Lilac Temptress by Elizabeth Davis Page B

There was nothing wrong with
being a virgin, but in this town, where the girls started liaisons
young, it was almost a cardinal sin to remain chaste.
    Still, Sierra’s morals ran strong. She
always tried hard to do the right thing. She could never sleep with
a man for money, but what about all her singing and dancing in the
bar? She wasn’t trying to lead men on, she was only trying to earn
enough money to leave town and break William’s hold on her. Was
that so wrong?
    All she did was sing and
dance from the time she was a little girl especially after her
mother was gone. She danced to ease the pain from the loss of her
parents. She would even pretend that her mother was dancing with
her instead of Adrienne. Why was she trying to justify her actions?
Why did this stranger make her feel self-conscious? Well, he is gone now, she
thought.
    “ But it does matter what he
thinks about me...” she whispered.
    At least I didn’t deliver,
despite what Adrienne said. I must have looked wretched by
comparison to all the sophisticated mistresses he’s probably
had—the women he’s made love to.
    She refused to linger on thoughts of
Drake’s erotic endeavors any longer. It was too late to want to
make love to him now. She yawned and lied back down on her bed, and
fell sound asleep after realizing that thoughts of Drake were
making her heart heavy.
     
     

Chapter
4
     
    Drake lie
awake in bed. He hadn’t slept at all last
night, unable to get Sierra out of his head, and now he heard the
heavy pounding of Girard’s fists outside the door. It can’t be dawn already? Drake groaned exhausted; he had just returned from Sierra’s
room not even an hour ago. Slowly lifting his head from his pillow,
he pulled himself upright—still wearing his trousers. He sluggishly
rose out of bed to open the door.
    “ So, ready to get going?”
Girard asked as he sauntered into the room, rather cheerfully. “I
met two gentlemen who are headed to New Iberia and they agreed with
me that it was best that we all travel together.”
    Drake knew Girard was referring to the
possible threat of natives attacking—it was something Girard was
always leery of.
    Girard took a closer look at his
friend. “You look like you didn’t sleep a wink last
night.”
    “ I think I can convince
Hunter.” Drake yawned and worked to rouse himself. He reached for
his shirt hanging over the back of the small wooden desk chair and
threw it over his shoulders.
    Girard glared at Drake with heavy
skepticism. “I know his type,” Girard insisted. “Hell, you know his
type. We’ve dealt with people like him before. Let William Hunter
remain a fool,” Girard said, trying to cajole his
friend.
    “ In a few months this will
all be a hunting ground for the Indians. Get your bags. We’re
leaving in twenty minutes, just giving us enough time to get a bite
from the kitchen. I’ll pack you up something,” Girard offered,
hoping the gesture would help jumpstart their departure, and then
he exited Drake’s room.
    After fully dressing, Drake
dragged himself down the hall toward a water closet. Good Lord, I should have gotten some
sleep. He splashed water against his
eyelids, and massaged his temples before going back to his room and
grabbing his saddlebag.
    When he did not find Girard outside
the inn, he started saddling his horse, and noticed two other
horses tied to a nearby post.
    Realizing they likely belonged to
their traveling companions. Drake stood not surprised when Girard
stepped outside with two men moments later carrying a brown paper
bag, presumably breakfast, which he tossed his
direction.
    Girard immediately launched into
introductions. “Drake, this is Jacob Gannon and Christopher
Jourdain,” Girard gestured toward the men.
    After exchanging greetings, the men
walked away to tend to their horses, and began saddling up to start
the eight-hour journey to New Iberia. They seemed decent enough,
Drake thought, before turning his gaze down the dirt road in