Jade Star - Catherine Coulter [68]
Saint sighed. “That’s right, Tony. But please, I feel more comfortable with ‘Saint.’ ”
“It fits so well,” Del said.
Dan Brewer, Del’s partner, who had been told of Jules’s experiences, said quite gently, “You’re a fortunate lady, Mrs. Morris. We hope you will be happy here. The weather, I’m certain, isn’t as Edenish as Maui, but nonetheless, I think you’ll find it pleasant most of the time.”
“Edenish?” Tony repeated, a brow arched. “I’m the writer at the table, Dan. Please confine yourself to simple words and lending out money.”
There was general laughter, and Jules relaxed. So did Saint. He would speak to Tony later. In fact, he thought, he’d been a fool not to realize that something like this was likely to happen. He caught Tony’s eye and gave him a simple nod.
Saint found himself looking again and again at his wife’s lovely throat and shoulders. He said suddenly to Jules, “You need a necklace—emeralds, I think. Del,” he continued, “tell me where I can find some jewelry for my wife.”
“Oh no,” Jules said, aghast at the thought of the cost. “I don’t want . . . that is, I don’t need—”
“Certainly,” said Del Saxton. “Emeralds, with perhaps some sapphires, would look lovely on you, Jules, particularly with that gown.”
“I agree,” Chauncey said. “Diamonds are too harsh, I think. Yes, emeralds and sapphires. Vibrant and warm.”
“It’s settled, then,” Saint said, reaching under the table to squeeze his wife’s hand. “I’ll come see you in the morning, Del.”
Agatha said to the table at large, “It’s nearly September. Do you think Brent and Byrony will be home soon?”
“The Hammonds,” Saint said to Jules. “Brent owns the Wild Star and he and his wife went to Mississippi to take care of the plantation he inherited.”
“Brent is a handsome devil, and usually quite charming,” Agatha said. “I have a feeling, though, that Byrony has him well in hand by this time.”
“He was out of hand?” Jules asked. “I thought you said he was quite charming.”
“Let’s just say, love,” Saint said, “that Brent Hammond was like a fish wriggling on the line, and Byrony . . . well, she’s got spirit, that girl.”
“And grit,” added Horace.
The talk continued for a while about the Hammonds, and Jules chewed thoughtfully on her baked chicken. She was very aware of her husband, the way he used his hands when he spoke, his long, blunt fingers, the deep, full laugh. She remembered Wilkes talking of Michael and all the women he’d slept with. It wasn’t true, she knew it wasn’t.
You should tell him about meeting Wilkes. She shook her head at her own thought, and felt miserable.
After dinner, Chauncey brought Alexandra downstairs to be admired. Jules held the baby, such a beautiful child, and her eyes met Michael’s.
“I love babies,” she said softly.
Saint felt his guts twist. He watched her as she spoke soft, meaningless words to the baby, watched her eyes light up with pleasure when Alex grabbed her finger and held it tightly. And he laughed when Jules blinked and said, “I think I’m wet, Chauncey.”
“Oh dear, indeed you are. Come with me and we’ll make sure your gown isn’t ruined. Del, do take Alex up to Mary for repairs.”
When Jules followed Chauncey from the room, Saint joined Tony Dawson. “I should have told you, but I forgot. It isn’t for publication, of course.”
When he finished, Tony Dawson whistled softly. “Jesus, Saint, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass her.”
“You didn’t know. Forget it, Tony.”
“That poor girl. Thank God you were here, Saint, and put a stop to it.”
Del joined them shortly thereafter, laughing a bit. “The joys of fatherhood,” he said. “Ah, I see you’ve told Tony. There is something else, Saint. Wilkes is entrenching himself quite thoroughly here. One sees him everywhere. Are you worried that he will try to make things difficult for you and Jules?”
Saint said without thinking, “If he knew she was still a vir—” He broke off, appalled. “I think I’ll have some of your whiskey, Del. Excuse me.”
Tony started to say something to Del, but Del shook his head and