Day Dreamer by Jill Marie Landis

gently kissed her cheek, then laid her head on his shoulder. “I have left enough money with your
grand-mère
for both of you to be well taken care of. If you need anything at all, write to me and see that the letter is sent aboard a ship bound for the island of St. Stephen.”
    “Papa always said you would take care of us, Uncle Cord.” A single, pitiful tear slid down Liliane’s cheek, a testament to her grief. She slipped her arms around Cord and buried her face against his neck.
    “Your papa was like a brother to me, and so you are like my own.”
    Like my own
. Celine had an instant vision of Persa and felt tears well up again. She turned away, pulled the cloak close around her and walked over to the window, where she saw the Moreau driver and carriage waiting in the street. Behind her, Cord continued to hold tight to the children as they clung to him.
    “I don’t want you to go, Uncle Cord,” Alan told him.
    “I would be happy to take you both with me, but your
grand-mère
needs you.”
    “They are all I have,
monsieur
,” Madam Latrobe said softly.
    Celine heard the thread of fear laced through the woman’s tone and then heard Cordero tell the children, “I don’t want to leave you, but I have to. When you’re older, you can come to visit me. I’ll show you the island and teach you to swim. Would you like that?”
    Alan shook his head no. “I want you to stay.”
    “I’m afraid that’s impossible now.”
    Celine waited until he bid his niece and nephew farewell one last time and kissed them both. He asked them to be good and to take care of their grandmother. When Celine turned around, he was standing by the door waiting for her, his eyes shining suspiciously again as he watched little Alan climb upon his grandmother’s lap and turn away.
    Celine hurried to Cordero’s side, raised the hood of her cloak and then preceded him out of the house. She looked neither right nor left, but kept her eyes on the open door of the carriage, praying that they would reach the levee without notice.
    She glanced over at Cordero. He was preoccupied as they pulled away from the house on
rue de Rampart
. He was staring out the window, his thoughts far away. The gentle, caring man she had seen in the Latrobe house was not the hardened cynic who had stood beside her in his grandfather’s library. What manner of man had she married after all?
    “Alex loved them so much,” he whispered.
    She knew he had been thinking aloud when he turned around to see if she had heard.
    “And yet he would have gone through with the arranged marriage,” she said.
    Cordero frowned. “He always did what he perceived to be the honorable thing. For him, there was nothing wrong with following the Creole tradition of fathering children with both his mistress and his wife.”
    “And for you?”
    “I have no mistress, if that’s what you’re asking. No children that I know of, either.”
    “Perhaps you should have made arrangements to bring the children to St. Stephen.”
    The look he shot her could have melted iron. “Are you mad? What would a reprobate like me do with two children? They’re better off here with their grandmother.”
    “As you were with your grandfather? They might fare better with you.”
    “It’s out of the question.”
    “You claim to be a drunk and a wastrel, but I have yet to see you take a drink today. Besides, the man I saw back there was not a heartless sot. He was a loving, caring uncle.”
    He smiled slowly, crossed his arms and leaned back against the seat.
    “We’ve been in each other’s company less than a full day. Don’t even begin to think you know me, wife.”
    When she didn’t rise to the bait, he dangled more.
    “I doubt you will be around long enough to know me at all. Wait until you find yourself living in dire straits on the island. You will be more than ready to run back to your rich papa and the luxuries to which you are no doubt accustomed.”
    She met his gaze and tried to mirror