“She here, miss. The carriage just pulled up.”
Cameron looked up from her desk to see one of the servants, Addy, standing in the doorway of the west parlor Cameron had turned into an office. Cameron gave a small sound of delight and quickly tucked the letter she’d been writing into a leather folder. She’d been responding to an interested party’s bid for one of her prime Arabian studs, but that correspondence could wait until tomorrow. Even her beloved horses came second to the joy Cameron felt in welcoming her dear sister.
“Hurry, miss,” Addy said. “Miss Taye, she truly here.”
Cameron wiped her ink pen and tucked it safely into a drawer, then rose swiftly from her chair. “Oh, goodness. Taye, at last. I thought she’d never get here!”
Taye, who was six years younger, had been Cameron’s constant companion while they were growing up in Mississippi. She was the daughter of Elmwood plantation’s housekeeper. But Sukey, a freed slave, had been so much more than a housekeeper. After the death of Cameron’s mother when she was seven, Sukey had become Cameron’s surrogate mother. And it was not until four years ago, after the death of her father, that Cameron and Taye discovered they had been raised as sisters because they were sisters. Cameron’s father, Senator David Campbell, was also Taye’s father.
Cameron licked her fingertips and tried to smooth a wayward red curl. “Hopeless,” she muttered and then hurried off for the front hall.
“Cameron!” Taye burst in the door in a gay cloud of pink silk and taffeta. Taye was a picture of beauty, as she had always been. With rich, honey-colored skin, dark, silky hair and shocking pale blue eyes, she was a striking young woman.
Cameron threw out her arms and hugged her tightly. “I can’t believe you’re here at last,” Cameron cried. “Let me get a look at you.” She took Taye’s hand and spun her around as if she were her dance partner.
Taye turned gracefully on heeled slippers, tilting her head just so to show off her new straw-and-pink tulle traveling bonnet. As she spun on the black-and-white marble-tiled floor, she tapped her parasol.
“Heavens, you’re beautiful and you’ve traveled hundreds of miles.” Cameron smoothed her hair selfconsciously. “And look at me, a wreck, and I’ve not left the house today.”
Taye linked her arm through Cameron’s and leaned closer. “So is what you suspected true?”
Cameron nodded excitedly.
“Oh, Cam. I’m so happy for you and Jackson.” Her blue eyes danced with pleasure. “And how are you feeling?”
“Fit as a fiddle, of course.” She led Taye down the hall. “Addy, could you send someone to the garden with refreshments?”
“I will, Missy Cameron. I surely will. Cook’s made those raisin scones you like so well.”
The two women walked down the long hallway and out onto the rear summer porch of the mansion, then Cameron led Taye across the lawn to a small table in the shade of an ancient oak tree.
“This garden is lovely.” Taye smiled when she heard the soft splash of water. In the nearby fountain, twin marble cherubs holding pitchers poured an unending stream of water into a circular pool below them.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Cameron answered. “This garden is really the only thing I love about the house.”
“It is impressive and rather…” Taye searched for the right word. “Rather…”
“Overdone,” Cameron said. They both laughed. “You know me, I always was hopeless at Greek.”
Taye’s eyes sparkled with warmth. “And how is he? Handsome as ever?”
“He’s fine.” She made a face. “Though how I would know that, I’m not certain. He barely blows through here on his way from one business engagement to another.”
Cameron watched Taye remove her bonnet and gloves with graceful, ladylike movements. She couldn’t help noticing that her sister moved with a refined air of confidence she hadn’t shown in her younger years.
During the war years, Taye had lived with Campbell family friends in New York City. Because her mother had been a slave and Taye was considered a Negro, even though her father was white, it hadn’t been safe for her to live south of the Mason-Dixon line. Cameron had visited Taye regularly and certainly noticed small differences in her sister’s demeanor, but in her mind, Taye was still seventeen, doting on her, always in her shadow. Cameron had the suspicion that this elegant young woman before her would walk in no one’s shadow now.
“Jackson is just never home,” Cameron confessed. “We barely see each other except in bed, and then talk is the last thing that interests him.”
Taye giggled, but her cheeks didn’t color as they once would have at the mention of sexual relations. “And you’re complaining about that? Most wives would give their eye-teeth for such a handsome, attentive husband.” She softened. “Especially now, when so many good men have died.”
“No, of course I’m not complaining that he still desires me.” Cameron struggled to explain. “It’s just that so much time has passed since we married. I do love Jackson and he certainly loves me, but I somehow thought things would be—” She hesitated. “I don’t know…different.”
“Give him time.” Taye reached across the table to squeeze Cameron’s hand. “Give yourself time.”
A serving girl dressed from head to toe in white walked out into the grass carrying a tray of fresh lemonade, the promised scones and tiny iced sponge cakes.
“Thank you, Martha,” Cameron said. “I’ll serve. You can go back to what you were doing.”
Martha grinned, dipped a curtsy and retreated into the house.
Cameron stood to pour Taye’s lemonade.
“Oh, goodness,” Taye said, coming to her feet and taking the blown-glass pitcher out of her sister’s hands. “Sit down and let me do that.”
“I don’t need to be catered to.” Cameron sat down hard in her chair. “For heaven’s sake, it’s a baby I’m carrying, not a disease.”
“Of course.” Taye began to pour the lemonade. “It’s just that I want to do this for you, Cam. I know I can never repay you and Jackson for all you’ve done for me, but at least give me these small satisfactions.”
Cameron took a linen napkin from the silver tray and reached for one of the sweets on the plate. Though she was not even far enough along in her pregnancy to show, she found herself constantly hungry. At this rate, she’d be the size of a heifer before the child saw the light of day.
“Have you heard from Thomas?” Cameron licked white sugar icing from her fingertips.
Taye passed her a glass of lemonade and took her seat again. “Yes, I received a letter just before I left New York. He’ll be here within the week.”
Cameron slanted her eyes mischievously. “And how soon after he arrives will we be hearing wedding bells?”
Thomas Burl had been Senator Campbell’s attorney. He had been sweet on Taye in the months before the war fell upon the South, and before she escaped safely to New York, he had made his feelings known to her. They had promised to marry at the end of the war, if their feelings remained the same, and had kept in regular contact over the years. Though Thomas was quiet and reserved, he had a good heart and he loved Taye—and she loved him.
Taye’s lovely, sun-kissed skin pinkened in pleased embarrassment. “I’ve barely seen him in the last year. Perhaps his intentions have changed.”
Cameron sipped her lemonade and laughed. “And perhaps he’s grown hair on that balding head of his, too.” She glanced sideways at her sister. “Of course he intends to marry you. I have a feeling that’s precisely why he asked Jackson if he could come here to stay for a while. He wants to court you, but he has no relatives nearby to live with.”
“I’m thankful Jackson will have us.”
“You’re my sister, Taye. Of course he’ll have you. Or there will be hell to pay from me.” Cameron took another sip from her glass. “Anyway, I’m so glad to have you here. Jackson announced this morning that we’ll be having a ball for three hundred in less than two weeks.”
Taye’s bright blue eyes widened. “Three hundred? My goodness!”
“It’s a welcome home ball for Union officers. Apparently Jackson and Mr. Ulysses S. Grant are well acquainted.”
“Well then, I arrived just in time, didn’t I? Leave everything to me. Baltimore and our newly returned officers will have a ball the likes of which they have never seen before.” She cut her blue eyes to Cameron. “Mississippi style.”
“There you are, Jackson.” Marie LeLaurie rose from her chair in a cozy corner of the intimate restaurant and presented her cheek. She was dressed stylishly, as always, in a rich red silk gown that transformed her thick wealth of stunning black hair and creamy olive skin from merely lovely to exquisite.
“Marie.” Jackson glanced around to be sure he saw no one he knew before joining her. He kissed her smooth cheek that smelled of a French cologne he knew she had specially blended for her in Paris.
“You’re late,” she chastised. “I was afraid you weren’t coming.”
He took the seat across from her.
“Wine?”
He shook his head.
“But it’s an excellent burgundy.” She pursed her red-stained lips, lips he had once brushed his own against, and pouted. “I know you like burgundy. Should I order something else?”
“No. No, this will be fine.” He watched as she poured the wine. “Marie, I cannot stay long. My wife—”
“She will be jealous?” Marie teased, coquettishly.
“What I was going to say is that my wife is expecting our first child, and I would like to get back to Baltimore tonight, however late.”
“A papa!” She laughed and tipped her wine glass to his in toast. Her voice was as rich as the wine she drank. “Congratulations. You will be a good father, I think, Jackson.”
“Seward says you have information for me.” He glanced up from the table again.
In the restaurant, there was only one other couple dining and they were elderly; they paid no mind to the man and woman who could well have been on an assignation…or meeting to pass on secret information vital to the government. Marie had picked the perfect place to meet, and in truth, she made the perfect spy. She was beautiful and she was brilliant, yet always unthreatening. Men naturally trusted her, believing no woman so lovely could possibly betray them.
“Jackson, Jackson,” she chastised. “You are always all work and no play.” She made a clicking sound between her even white teeth. “You really should enjoy life more, as I do.” She tossed her head, and her long, dark hair sailed as if on a windswept beach. “Life is too short,” she whispered with those mesmerizing red lips.
He leaned back in his chair, mentally trying to distance himself from Marie. He had Cameron to think about. His child. He loved Cameron, loved her desperately. And he loved their unborn baby. He’d not let his attraction to Marie allow him to make a mistake that could cost him his marriage. He had already made that mistake once and vowed it would never happen again.
“I haven’t much time, Marie. Just tell me what you know.” He glanced at the elderly couple again. All he needed was for a gossiping dowager who knew Cameron from the Women’s League to see him here alone with Marie. “We really shouldn’t be seen in public together, anyway. I know too many people here in Washington and too many know me.”
She lifted the glass of ruby wine to her ruby lips. “Then the next time I will be sure we meet in a place that is more private,” she purred.
Several nights later, Jackson walked up behind Cameron where she was standing in front of the gilded mirror in their bedchamber. He placed his splayed hands on her hips, leaning over and grazing her bare shoulder with his lips. “You look tired,” he murmured. “Are you certain you’re up to this?”
Cameron trembled at his sensual caress. They’d begun making love before they were married, during the first days of the war when Cameron’s whole life was crumbling at her feet. Her father was dead; her despicable brother, Grant, was selling off the family plantation piece by piece and trying to marry her off. Physical lovemaking with Jackson had always been good, but since his return, it had been even better. His touch, his heated glances, set her aflame, so much so it troubled her that Jackson should have such control over her body. Over her emotions. All she had to do was bring up a subject he deemed unpleasant, and he immediately began to woo her with scorching kisses and damnable roguish charm. She knew what her husband was doing, and yet, he had only to stroke her with hard, lean fingers and whisper sweet, wicked words into her ear and she tumbled helplessly into his trap every time.
Cameron studied Jackson’s reflection in the mirror as he remained bent over her, watching her. He was as handsome as ever, as dashing as ever. While some men had returned from the war mere shadows of themselves, Jackson had thrived in the turmoil and danger of the last four years. If anything, despite the tiny lines on his forehead, he was even more devilishly attractive than he had been in his younger years. He was what any Southern woman would have considered a great catch—staggeringly wealthy and highly respected. Now there was even talk of him running for a political office. He was everything a woman could hope for in a man.
But was it all too good to be true? When they had first married and Cameron came to live in Baltimore, there had been whispers that their marriage would never last. That the handsome captain was not a man meant to be tied down to a single woman. Her gaze flickered to his as he waited for her reply.
Had they been right?
The very thought put her on edge, turning her nerves raw. “Roxy was down with colic,” she said.
The blooded Arabian mare had been a gift from her father for her twenty-second birthday. Her brother had sold the horse, but Jackson managed to locate the mare and have her shipped to Baltimore. “She’s better now, but it was a long day.” Cameron plucked at the hair that framed her face.
Taye had been in earlier to help her dress and create her elaborate coiffure for the evening. Tonight they were dining in celebration of Thomas Burl’s arrival.
“I thought you weren’t going to go to the barn every day.” Jackson kissed her neck, still watching her in the mirror.
She shrank at his touch, moving away from the mirror. “I never said I wasn’t going every day,” she protested. Walking to a rosewood table, she opened a black lacquered box from the Orient and removed a pair of pearl earrings. “You said that. I had to go today. Didn’t you hear me? Roxy was ill. She could have died.”
His gray eyes were instantly stormy. “Look, Cameron, I understand how important those damned horses were to you when I was gone. But I’m home now. You don’t need to spend every waking moment at that farm. It’s really not appropriate. Why have the herd at all? God knows we don’t need the money.”
“Why have the herd at all?” she challenged. “Maybe because it’s the only tangible thing I have left of my home. Of my father.”
He sighed. “All right, so keep the horses. But you’re really not needed at the farm every day. I want you here, in our home. You’re my wife and this is where you belong now.”
“So you can come and go as you please? And what would you have me do?” She pushed the second earring into her earlobe and whirled around to face him. “Sit around all day and wait for you to come home from the shipyards or one of your secret meetings in Washington? What about the day Taye arrived? I waited for you that night and you didn’t come home. Not until three in the morning.”
“I sent you a telegram. I ended up having to hire a coach. I explained—”
“You didn’t explain anything. You only said you would be late.”
He groaned impatiently. “I have a great deal of business to take care of. Four years is a long time to be gone, Cam. Even with Josiah to look after—”
“That night had nothing to do with your business,” she snapped. “So don’t tell me that it did. You were in Washington. Again.”
He paused, then spoke. “Just because the fighting is over, that doesn’t mean the war is over. The South is literally smoldering. I still have a duty to fulfill.”
She lowered her hands to her hips. “And exactly when will that duty be fulfilled? The soldiers who survived are home with their wives and children.” She stared at him pointedly. “When are you coming home, Jackson? When will the war be over for us?”
“When it’s over,” he answered stiffly. “When my service is no longer required by my country.”
“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Simply breed?”
“There are plenty of household matters for you to manage here.” He gestured. “The ball for instance. Surely there’s a great deal of preparation.”
“Surely there is, for a ball you planned without first asking me,” she snapped. “Just like the dinner parties you plan without asking me. The men you bring home for supper without warning. The household staff you hire and fire without so much as a glance my way.”
“Cameron—”
“And now that Taye is here, your little plan is complete. I’m of no use to anyone. Taye has come in and taken over planning the ball, with your blessing apparently. All I’ve had to do was choose the color of the table linens and point to which midnight buffet I prefer. Jackson, she even ordered a gown for me!”
“I’m sure she’s only trying to be helpful. Taye is a very capable young woman.”
“Of course she is. But so I am. I just don’t like being treated this way. By you or Taye. It’s as if everyone suddenly thinks I’m made of spun sugar with the brains of a mouse. What am I supposed to do all day if I can’t go see my horses, and Taye is running the household?”
He shrugged. “How should I know what gentlewomen occupy themselves with? Can’t you take up needlepoint or—”
“Don’t you dare talk to me about such nonsense. Don’t you dare!” Cameron found herself fighting tears of fury. “I despise sewing. I cannot bear being treated as if I were an ornament. Am I supposed to sit here in this museum of a house with nothing to do but walk from room to room and wish I was home?”
Jackson jerked his black frock coat off the back of a chair and scowled at her. “You are home now.”
“My home is in Mississippi,” she said softly, not knowing if she wanted to cry or break something over his head.
He paused as he slid his long arms into the sleeves of the new coat. When he spoke again, his tone had softened. “No, not anymore.”
Tears welled in her eyes. Why was she crying all the time? She had cried more since Jackson came home than she had the whole time he’d been gone. “You said we would talk about this.”
“And we will.” He draped his arm over her shoulder. “But not tonight. Our guests are waiting.”
Cameron glanced up at Jackson. She didn’t want to allow him to manipulate her like this, but she didn’t want to constantly fight with him, either. She wanted to have a nice evening with Taye and Thomas and the few close friends they had made over the last years who had been invited tonight.
She tipped her head back to allow Jackson to brush his sensual lips against her mouth. “I’ll bow to you this time, husband, but I’m warning you, I’m not about to take up needlepoint. And you’ve not heard the end of this. You can’t just sweet-talk me every time the conversation gets uncomfortable for you.”
“I can try.” He gave her that boyish grin of his, nodded and then opened their bedchamber door. “Mrs. Logan.”
She curtsied, thinking, God, I do love him, but will life with him always be this difficult?
And then they walked down the grand staircase arm and arm to greet their guests.
The simple eight-course evening meal, featuring roasted squab, lamb cutlets, pearled onion potatoes and fresh squash soufflé, served with three wines, was exquisite. After the small party of a dozen of Baltimore’s finest ladies and gentlemen had dined, they moved to the elegant parlor. Traditionally, the ladies and gentlemen would separate at this point, but Cameron told her guests that the war had divided her and her husband for four years and no walls would divide them now.
In the parlor, brandy and champagne were served beneath the watchful eye of a pantheon of plaster gods and goddesses, as Taye entertained them on the grand piano with a selection of classical music.
Cameron left her chair beside Mrs. Rhettish, where they had been discussing her mother’s gout, and moved to the darkened window where Thomas stood watching Taye as she played a charming piece from a young French composer, Jules Massenet. Last year on their trip to Paris, Cameron and Taye had heard the young man play, and Taye had become enamored of his sound and composition.
“Have you asked her yet?” Cameron whispered.
Thomas Burl’s face flushed. He was a tall, thin man with long gangly legs and arms that had once made Cameron think he looked like a stork. He had sandy blond hair that was thinning rapidly and he wore wire-frame glasses perched on the end of his thin nose. Her father had once actually considered Thomas a possible suitor for Cameron, but then Jackson had come into her life.
Even though Thomas was too sedate for her taste, she loved him like a brother. Thomas had worked closely with the senator for years, often in Mississippi and Washington, D.C.
“Mrs. Logan.” Thomas’s face was now beet red. “You embarrass me. I’ve barely been here twenty-four hours.”
“Since when am I Mrs. Logan? It’s Cameron, remember?” she chastised. “You’ve been here twenty-four hours and you’ve still not asked Taye to marry you? You’d better make haste.” She nodded to the elderly, bearded gentleman speaking with Jackson. “Mr. Gorman is mad for her. His third wife passed recently, and I understand he is looking for number four. He would be an excellent prospect for our dear Taye, but I’m quite certain you are her first choice.”
Thomas glowed with pleasure, glancing at Taye, then at his highly polished shoes. “You don’t think I would be forward to ask her tonight?”
“I think you should take her walking in the garden after our guests depart. I think you should ask her to marry you, and I think you should kiss her soundly—on the lips.”
“Oh, my,” he breathed, looking quickly to Taye. “I’m not certain I can—”
“Kiss?” Cameron demanded under her breath. She laughed and Taye looked their way, then back at the keyboard.
Cameron leaned in to her father’s friend. “Well, you’d best figure it out, Mr. Burl.” Realizing she had shocked him beyond words, she smiled. “Have no fear. She’ll like it.” She squeezed his arm. “And so will you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think Jackson is trying to catch my attention.” She dipped a polite curtsy.
Thomas bowed stiffly.
As Cameron glided past the piano toward Jackson, she winked at Taye.
“Did you enjoy yourself this evening?” Jackson asked as he loosened the strings of Cameron’s lace-and-satin stays. Jackson refused to allow Cameron’s personal maid into the bedchamber, insisting it was his job to dress and undress the mistress of the household now that he was home.
Cameron held on to the bedpost, exhaling with relief as he eased the constriction of the undergarment, wondering how much longer she’d be able to wear the boned stays before she would have to set them aside for her pregnancy. “It was very nice. I love Mrs. Rhettish. A woman after my own heart. Did you know that she ran her husband’s mercantile store on Broad Street while he was off in the war, and now that he’s returned, he’s working for her?”
Jackson laughed. “I have news for you, Cam. Knowing Violet Rhettish, she ran Carl’s business, and Carl, well before the war.” He handed her the stays. “It’s no wonder the man was disappointed when the war was over. He was actually forced to come home to her.”
She hit him across the stomach with the stays and he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto the bed. She fell back on the soft feather tick and he buried his face between her breasts.
“Jackson, I’m trying to undress.”
“And I’m merely trying to assist, madame.” He grinned, standing up to release her.
Cameron slid off the bed and padded barefoot to the window. She drew back the heavy velvet drape slightly and peered into the lantern-lit garden. “Do you think Thomas will get up the nerve to ask Taye to marry him?” Below, she could just make out the pair, sitting on a small stone bench beneath a rose arbor.
“I’m certain he will. He told me he’s already making plans to reopen his law office. He has only to decide in which city.”
Cameron watched Taye and Thomas, almost wishing she could hear what they were saying. “He should open his office in the North, of course, where Taye will be safe and accepted.”
Jackson removed his silk cravat and then his starched white shirt to bare his muscular chest. “Perhaps. But Mississippi is in desperate need of educated men like Thomas, and he does have his father’s offices in Jackson. There’s the family plantation, too, or what’s left of it.”
Still holding back the drape, Cameron lifted an eyebrow, turning to her husband. “Oh, so Taye should go home to Mississippi, and I shouldn’t?”
Jackson walked stark naked, and glorious in his manhood, across the wood floor and grabbed her by the hand. “Will you come away from that window, woman, and come to bed?”
She let the drapes fall.
“Give them a little privacy,” he said, wrapping her in one arm. “And us as well.”
He slid his hand beneath her chemise to cup her breast, and she let her eyes drift shut. The man infuriated her, and yet, when he touched her like this, she was all but melted sugar in his mouth.
“Again you change the subject,” she accused. “And you forget, I’m still angry with you from earlier.”
“Give me a moment and then tell me if you’re still angry.” He covered her mouth with his, thrusting his tongue, and when he drew away, she was limp in his arms.
“Cheater,” she managed to say finally.
“No.” He gazed into her face, capturing her as he always did with the breadth and depth of his gray eyes. “But this is cheating.”
Jackson rested his hands on her hips and slowly slid to his knees. Cameron gasped as he lifted the hem of her chemise and kissed the inside of her knee. It was just a tiny, fleeting kiss, little more than a brush of a butterfly’s wings, yet it set her flesh on fire.
Cameron swayed on her feet as his fingertips brushed the tender flesh of her inner thigh.
“Jackson…”
Lifting the linen skirt higher, he thrust his head beneath the fabric and pressed his warm mouth between her legs, finding her already hot and wet for him.
She couldn’t fight him. She couldn’t win.
“The bed…” she groaned as his tongue flicked out, delved. Cameron ran her fingers through his silky, dark hair as a ripple, a wave, of wicked pleasure washed over her. Then another and another as he stroked her with his tongue, plied her with his probing fingers.
“Jackson, please…” Cameron gripped Jackson’s shoulders to steady herself as she struggled to find her voice. To stop him. But the waves of pleasure were already building and she pressed her hands to his shoulders, gripping them to keep from tumbling to the floor. His fingers found the soft, moist folds of her flesh and she surrendered to him yet again.
“Are you certain this is what you want?” Taye asked softly, gazing into Thomas’s brown eyes.
He could barely hold her gaze. He kept looking away from her, his gaze flickering from her to objects in the dark garden. “Of course I’m certain. It’s what I’ve lived for all these years,” he said, his voice earnest.
Taye reached out and stroked Thomas’s shaven cheek. “You understand it would be difficult. My skin is pale, but we could not hide my heritage if anyone chose to condemn you for who I am, for who I was born.”
“Y-you were born a Campbell,” he stammered. “The daughter of David Campbell, one of the greatest senators of our time.”
“And the daughter of a house slave,” she reminded him. “Half of my family came from the Highlands of Scotland, but half came from the jungles of Africa.”
He stared hard at the pink roses that vined beyond her shoulder and then forced himself to look at her. “I want you to be my wife, Taye Campbell. W-will you do me the honor?”
She smiled. “As long as you understand that I would not hold you to anything we said in the heat of the moment, years ago. The war had just begun, we were all in a fret—”
He shook his head. “I…I love you, Taye. I have always loved you. And I want to marry you. I want you to have my children, God willing.”
Taye smiled. This was the moment she had been dreaming of since the war began. When Thomas had first declared his love for her on the back stair of Elmwood’s plantation house the night Fort Sumter was fired upon, she had been so frightened that she had denied her attraction to him. She had run from him. But Thomas had not given up on her; he had pursued her with a quiet determination that she couldn’t help but love. All through the war he had written to her and come to New York City to see her when he could. They had talked of marriage and a family, and now it would all come true.
She gazed into Thomas’s warm, dark eyes. “Then yes. I’ll marry you, Thomas Burl.”
“Th-thank you,” he stammered, his eyes wide.
Taye rested her hands on his shoulders and kissed him squarely on the lips.
“My. Oh, my,” Thomas muttered, flustered when she pulled away.
She laughed and took his hand. “You had better get used to that,” she teased. “If you’re going to marry me, Thomas, I want to be kissed. Often.”
“Would you care to go for a stroll in the garden before you retire?” He bobbed off the bench as if it had been set aflame.
She laughed, her voice light and musical on the night air. “I would love to go for a walk.” She stood and slipped her arm through his and then walked down the path into the darkness, and into her future with Thomas Burl, Esquire.