Page 32 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter
“Don’t you dare touch me,” I hissed, pulling myself back. No one was close enough to hear my plight.
Tall laughed. “Hear that, boys? This colored tail thinks she’s not for the likes of me!”
Skinny smirked. “Might have to disabuse her of that notion.”
Tall reached out lightning quick and yanked me toward him. The other two crowded me in, blocking my view of the street.
“Let me go, or I’ll scream.” I yanked my arm back and pushed at him.
“Scream, and I’ll knock you silly. Now, be quiet. It’s only a bit of fun,” the tall one said, one hand ripping off my cloak and hood, then fondling me roughly before tugging at my skirts.
“Stop it!” I clawed him, my nails doing no damage through my gloves. He smacked my hands and grabbed me by the throat. One yanked the fichu from around my neck, ripping the embroidered scarf in two.
“Now, Claude, you’re being a bit rough, aren’t you?” Big One said.
“Push off, Clemons,” Tall snarled. “I’m not done with my celebrating yet. You can have your turn.”
My breath caught in my throat. Black-and-white splotches marred my eyesight. My head lightened and my muscles turned weak.
“You there! Let her go!” William’s voice rang out behind them.
Tall had just turned when a board smacked him across the face. His grip loosened, and I fell to the ground. Another blow hit Tall, sending him spinning, and he landed like a lump in the dirt.
Skinny jumped out next, snicking a blade open. He stabbed at William with three quick jabs, but they weren’t fast enough, for he, too, received a blow to the head and a swift kick to the chest, sending him flying.
“Clemons! Let’s go!” Skinny called out, lip bleeding, eyes low and murderous.
Big One hadn’t engaged in the fight at all. He scrambled at Skinny’s words and tugged at his tall friend, rousing him.
“We’ll be back for you!” Skinny called, spitting blood and pulling at Tall’s shirtsleeve. “You’re a dead man!”
The three bumbled off into the night as William dropped the board, then pulled me up to my feet. His hands wrapped around me, holding me tight to his chest, absorbing my shivers of fear. His heart hammered in his chest, matching mine. “You’re all right,” he whispered into my tignon, the care in his voice finding its way deep down into me. “You’re all right.”
He lifted my chin, his eyes searching mine as if he could find the pain inside me and erase it. “I heard a commotion. I was so worried.” He kissed my forehead, the warmth of his mouth sending a tingling flush to mix with the fear rushing through my blood.
“Silas?” I said, the realization of why we were here in the first place crashing back.
He handed me the slip of paper. My brother’s full name, written in his hand, was unmistakable on the other side.
“He’s gone to fetch the master. I’ve left him your address. The others say that if his master approves, he will come to you tomorrow.” The pad of his thumb gently traced my collarbone, landing on my heart-shaped birthmark.
“You found him. You really ...” I pressed my lips to his, and we held each other among the lingering Mardi Gras crowd.
Nine
Jacques woke up the next morning none the wiser. He stretched and used the chamber pot, humming as he dressed, the day proceeding as planned. I donned a cream dress embroidered with deep-red flowers and emerald leaves, but I wanted only to block out the memory of what had transpired and wait for Silas to come. I gathered a thick fichu around my neck, fanning and pinning it to hide the bruises.
As we had breakfast, I stared outside to where William trimmed the hedgerow. Jacques laid out the plans for Paris as my mind drifted, tugged in two directions. I longed for Jacques to be gone so I could wait with William for Silas. After I kissed Jacques goodbye, I slipped into the garden. William still battled with the hedges, a bulky canvas bandage covering his right arm.
“Youwerehurt! Why didn’t you say something?”
“It’s a scratch.” He shrugged as he clipped, the sound sharp.
“Such a large and reddened bandage cannot be for a simple scratch. Let me get you fresh bandages and salve.”
“Please, don’t trouble yourself.”
“It’s no trouble. It ... it was my fault. Please,” I said, holding my ground.
