“Something more to eat?” Falcon asked Taye across the tiny courtyard table at a hotel in New Orleans. Candles glimmered on the tables and in the trees, and three dark-skinned men played rich, soulful Creole music from a gallery above them.
“Something more to eat?” Taye gazed at Falcon and laughed. “Tonight you have stuffed me with jambalaya—” she ticked off on her fingers “—quail stuffed with oysters, and shrimp, and now you want to feed me more? I think not.” She reached for the glass of wine a beautiful quadroon woman had just brought her. “Merci,” she murmured. She met the woman’s dark-eyed gaze, so much like her own. “Vous avez les yeux très beaux.”
The proud young woman dipped her head and murmured beneath her breath, “Pas assez que les votres, madame.”
Taye felt her cheeks color at the compliment. “Qu’estce que c¸’est quoi votre nom?”
“Josette.”
“Merci de vos mots aimables, Josette,” Taye said.
The woman smiled, then slipped away.
“I did not know you spoke the language of the Creole,” Falcon remarked, watching Taye intently in the flickering candlelight.
She turned her glass, watching the crimson wine slide up the side. “I speak four languages.” She glanced at him over the rim. “Cameron’s French is barely passable, but our tutor always said I had a gift for languages.”
His sensuous mouth turned at one corner. “Is one of those languages, by chance, the tongue of my mother?”
“Cherokee?” She laughed and shook her head. “I’m afraid not. But I do speak the language of your father. Spanish.”
“Then if you came to California with me, you could talk about me behind my back to my padre. I do not speak my father’s tongue.”
“Why not?”
He lifted one broad, muscular shoulder in a shrug. “I grew up among the Cherokee. My mother’s father was my father. It was not our way.”
“So you did not know him as a boy?”
Falcon shook his head. “I was a young man before I ever laid eyes upon him.”
She sipped from her glass, deep in thought. “Then, in a way, you and I are very alike. I, too, grew up without a father. Only he was right there, and I never knew it.”
“Does this anger you?”
She thought before she answered. “Anger me? No. It could not be helped. It was not our way.” She smiled good-humoredly. “But I long for what I know now that I missed.”
Falcon nodded in the direction of the quadroon who had served them. She was now cleaning up another table. “I only speak a little of the Creole French tongue. What did she say?”
“I told her that she had beautiful eyes. She thought I did, too,” she finished shyly.
“She is right.” He continued to watch her. “You seem very comfortable here. I thought that you would be.”
Falcon was right. It seemed odd to her that she could feel so at home in a place so far from home. But here in New Orleans, there were so many men and women of mixed race that, for once, she did not feel out of place. He had noticed the same when he had visited New Orleans with Jackson during the war. Falcon said that that was one of the reasons he had brought her here, to show her that life could be different for her.
She sipped the sweet, fruity wine and set down the glass. Falcon slid his hand across the table to cover hers. “Would you like to dance with me?”
A sweet, mournful song of love found and then lost echoed in the moss-tangled tree overhead, and couples rose to dance arm in arm. It was not a waltz or any other dance Taye recognized; men and women seemed to simply sway to the music, wrapped in each other’s arms. It seemed quite risqué to her, and terribly alluring.
“You dance?” she asked, delighted by each new facet of Falcon’s personality that she discovered.
He clasped her hand and led her to the bricked patio to join the other couples. “I usually place a war bonnet upon my head and dance around the campfire, but tonight it is too warm for a fire.”
She clasped one of his hands and rested her other on his shoulder as she laughed. Under the moonlight, amidst the twinkling stars of candlelight in the trees, Taye could almost forget that she was here in New Orleans because she was running away. Running for her life.
Falcon drew her closer and she rested her cheek on his shoulder. “Do you know what I wish?” she whispered.
“Wishes are not to be shared,” he murmured in her ear. “Not with anything but the sky, not with anyone but the mother earth.”
“Well, this is one wish I want to share with you.” She tipped back her head so that she could look into his ebony eyes. “I wish that I could dance in your arms like this forever.”
Falcon brushed his mouth against hers. “Come west with me and we will dance every night under the stars.”
She shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about this all night, Falcon. I don’t know that I can do that. I don’t know that I can leave my sister. Not without even saying goodbye.” And Thomas, she thought. How can I just abandon him without releasing him from his promise?
Taye wished now that she had gone to Thomas the night the soldiers had come for her. At least then, there could have been some sense of conclusiveness in her life. Right now, everything was left undone. She felt as if she could not step forward and could not move back.
The song ended and a banjo began to strum a faster beat. Hand in hand, Taye and Falcon walked back to their table, but there, Taye only picked up her reticule. “Let’s go back to the room,” she said softly.
Falcon turned his head to meet her gaze and seemed to read some meaning in her words, a meaning she didn’t even quite understand.
In the week since they had arrived in New Orleans, Falcon had shown her the sights of the town. They had picnicked in Jackson Square and walked along the waterfront off Decatur. She had seen the ladies of the evening hanging off the galleries on Bourbon Street and strolled through the Vieux Carré where Marie LaVeau, the voodoo queen, was sometimes seen at twilight. Taye and Falcon watched the Creole dance to their native music. The two of them ate their fill of the delights Louisiana had to offer and played at gambling tables until late in the evening.
Each night they returned to their hotel on Royal Street where they shared a room. Falcon had said it would be safer if they traveled as man and wife; Taye had allowed him to make that decision. But each night when they retired, she slept alone in the great bed, covered by mosquito netting, and he slept on the floor by the door.
Tonight it would be different. Gazing into Falcon’s eyes, she knew she had to return to Mississippi and face her accusers. She knew that she could hang for what she had done, but that didn’t matter. She would do it all over again if it meant saving her beloved Cameron.
But without putting an end to the life she had left behind, she had no hope of exploring the possibility of a life with Falcon. Until she made peace with Grant and with Thomas, she would find no true happiness in Falcon’s arms.
Falcon took her arm in silence, sensing her need to be alone with her thoughts. Within minutes they entered their lavish suite in the Three Sisters Hotel. He locked the door behind them and tossed his top hat on a chair.
They had both purchased clothing once they had arrived in New Orleans. Taye was wearing a lacy orange Basque habit she had chosen on a whim. Falcon had chosen black trousers to wear with his red coat and had added a black tall hat which made him appear even larger and more imposing.
She laid her gloves on the chair beside his hat and turned to face him. He seemed to be reading her mind, as if she were one of the books from Jackson’s library. He reached his hands to her and took hers. They were warm and reassuring.
“Taye,” he said softly. “I will take you as my wife here and now, but you must come to me willingly, without regret. You know I could take you far from here, where you would never be found.”
She shook her head. “I have to go back, Falcon.” She lowered her head and then lifted it to look at him. “I know you don’t understand, but I must release Thomas from his vow to marry me. And I must answer my accusers in court.”
He frowned. “I understand the importance of a promise made, but to allow yourself to be arrested…” He shook his head. “I fear you will not see fairness in the Englishman’s court. I fear that you will be judged by the color of your skin and not your deeds, as I have been many times in the past. As I know you have been.”
She pressed her lips together, feeling the burn of tears behind her eyelids. She was afraid he would be angry with her, but she didn’t care. She knew what she had to do. “I still have to go back.”
Then, to her surprise, he smiled. “You are a very brave woman, Taye Campbell, brave enough to be a Cherokee maiden.” He pulled her into his arms and she tipped her chin upward to meet his lips.
They had kissed many times since the night they fled Atkins’ Way, but there was something different in this kiss. Something Taye sensed inside herself.
She remembered the nights she had touched herself, dreaming of Falcon. Now she would live those fantasies in the flesh.
She might have her day in court, she might be found guilty and hang for killing Grant Campbell, but she would have this night, she decided. She would have this perfect night with the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
Taye slipped her arms around Falcon’s neck and pulled him tight against her. She felt her pulse quicken as she thrust her tongue into his mouth and tasted the hot, dark cavern. There was something about his woodsy scent, the taste of him, something half wild, something that excited her in a way she had never experienced before.
Falcon rested one hand on her rib cage and she covered his hand with her own. Slowly, but intrepidly, she guided it upward until it rested on the swell of her breast.
She sighed as the heat of his warm hand seeped through the filmy fabric of her gown and underclothing. It was so hot and steamy here in New Orleans that no woman wore any more clothing than was absolutely necessary for decorum.
He tugged on her lower lip with his teeth and brushed his thumb over her nipple. Again she sighed, only this time it came out as more of a moan.
Taye was caught between the timidity she had grown up with concerning sexuality, and the compelling feelings blossoming inside her. She wanted so badly not just to be touched, but also to touch. She was not a complete innocent; she had been raised on a plantation. She knew what a man’s genitalia looked like, but she wanted to touch Falcon, to see what a man’s flesh felt like in her hand.
Perhaps she should have been ashamed, but she was not.
Taye tipped back her head so that Falcon could press his mouth to the hollow of her throat. At the same time, she dared to lay her hand on his thigh and then slide it upward.
“Taye,” Falcon groaned, deep in his throat.
The sound of his voice, husky, needy, made her bolder. She slid her hand over until she touched the swell in his trousers and was rewarded by another guttural groan of pleasure.
She slid her hand downward and then upward, stroking him, fascinated by the way he seemed to harden at once beneath her fingertips, despite her lack of experience.
“Taye.” Falcon drew his mouth over the swell of her breasts above the bodice of her gown. At the same time, he caught her wrist and halted her caress.
Her eyelids flickered open, and for a moment, she feared she had made a mistake in judgment. Perhaps he did not want to make love with her.
“Taye, I am sorry. I thank you for the gift you offer me, but I cannot take that which is meant for the man you will spend the rest of your life with.”
Her breath came so ragged that it took a minute for her to respond. She was relieved that she had not misunderstood and that he did, indeed, want her. “Falcon, I know what I’m doing. I know what I want. No matter what happens to me, I know you are meant to have my virginity,” she whispered.
He smiled, a kind smile that seemed sad at the same time. He lifted her hand to his chest, where she could feel his heart pounding. “Your words touch my heart, but I must say no. Not when you still hold your promise to Thomas binding.”
Her lower lip trembled. She ached so badly for him at this moment that she knew one brush of his fingertips on her sex would make her explode with pleasure beyond her experiences alone. But she could not force herself upon him if he did not want her.
She lowered her chin, her face growing hot with a mixture of disappointment and embarrassment. She could feel the heat of the humid night prickly and damp on the back of her neck. “You do not want to make love with me, when I am willing?”
He clasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted it until she was forced to gaze into his eyes. “I did not say I would not make love with you, only that I would not take your virginity until you can give it freely.”
When she at last absorbed his meaning, her face brightened in an impish smile. “I had not thought of that,” she murmured. It made sense, of course. If she could please herself, why could he not pleasure her in the same ways? Why could she not please him and still remain a virgin?
Taye raised both hands and Falcon pressed his to hers. Their fingers entwined and he drew closer. He caught her lower lip between his teeth and bit down gently. She parted her lips and teased his tongue with hers. Only then did Falcon cover her mouth with a suffocating kiss.
She laughed deep in her throat as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the big bed that they had yet to share. Setting her down gently, he stood and slowly began to remove his clothing. His boots. His stockings. His red coat and then the white shirt and cravat.
Taye watched in fascination, the heat building first in her cheeks, then outward, as he stripped down to bare skin. The pit of her stomach tightened; her pulse seemed to pound in her ears. She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue as his fingers brushed the waistband of his trousers.
He hesitated.
Taye lowered her eyelids until her eyes were half closed. “I will see all of you, Falcon. I should inspect the goods,” she purred, “before I make any promises.”
His low rich laughter was the best balm there could be for her nerves. She watched, unabashed, as he pushed the black trousers over his narrow, sun-bronzed hips.
Her breath caught ragged in her throat as she saw the dark patch of hair. Then he sprang forth, larger than she expected and not nearly so foreign. She smiled and reached out to him with one hand. “It’s so warm in here,” she whispered, half sitting up. “Help me with this tiresome gown.”
Never taking his gaze from hers, he slipped off her shoes and then her silk stockings. As he undressed her, he lingered, drawing his warm fingertips over her skin, sending ripples of gooseflesh up her legs. Then he sat on the bed, facing her, and drew her up by her shoulders. He brushed his lips against hers in brief, fleeting butterfly kisses as his fingers found the buttons down the back of her gown.
“For a man, you are well versed in ladies’ clothing,” she teased huskily as he drew the yards of gown over her head, taking care with the delicate fabric. He took the time to walk to the far chair and drape the gown over the back.
She watched as he walked toward her, stiff and erect in his maleness. Taye had always known that she would do this with someone, but she had always thought of it as a woman’s duty to her husband. It had never occurred to her until she met Falcon that she would really desire to touch a man, to feel him inside her.
Falcon sat on the edge of the bed again and helped her out of her corset and shift. Only once she was utterly naked did he stretch out beside her in the big bed and draw down the mosquito netting so that they were enclosed in a magical web.
“You are more beautiful than I had dreamed,” he breathed in her ear. As he spoke, he dragged one finger between her breasts, over her stomach and upward again in a lazy circle.
Taye sighed and, without thinking, lifted her hips as his hand drew lower once more. “You dreamed of me?”
He leaned to press a kiss to the peak of her small, firm breast. “Every night since I found you in the garden. A gift sent to me from the heavens.”
Her breath caught in her throat as he drew his hand lower on her belly, then, at the last possible moment, upward again.
Taye rolled toward him and lifted up to catch his mouth with hers. She was trembling from head to toe, aching. She brushed her palm across his cheek and took his mouth hungrily. At the same time, she slid her hand down his leg and, without hesitation, took his hard, hot flesh in her hand.
Falcon groaned and their kiss deepened.
Taye was fascinated by his sex, by its shape, by its responsiveness, by the soft texture of his skin. She had always thought a woman’s body was beautiful, a gift of creation by God, but she had never known how glorious a man’s body could be.
Falcon rolled on top of her and she gave a little cry of protest, not yet ready to release him.
He drank in her dark eyes as he slid down her body, dragging his hot, wet tongue in a path, lower and lower. He teased her navel with the tip of his tongue and then rested his cheek on her belly.
Taye could barely catch her breath. Everything was spinning. The room, the bed, her thoughts.
Falcon grazed the bed of dark curls between her thighs with his skilled fingertips and a cry of relief escaped her lips.
“Shh,” he murmured. “Slowly. We have all night.”
She laughed and closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath as she attempted to slow her pounding heart. He waited a moment and then began to touch her again with light strokes.
Taye raised her hips to meet his hand. Just once he brushed against the swell of pink flesh and she cried aloud with pleasure. He rested his cheek against her belly again, cupping her sex, letting the sweet ripples of pleasure wash over her, drown her.
When her breath came more regularly for a second time, he began to touch her. He stroked her soft, damp flesh with a gentle hand. He wanted to know what pleased her and that thought made her heart swell with love.
Love. She did love him. She knew that now. She not only loved Falcon, but she was in love with him. And that was something very different from what she had experienced with Thomas.
Gradually, Falcon slid down in the bed, kissing a path from her belly downward. The moment she realized what he intended to do, she thought to stop him. But she couldn’t. She simply could not stop the need that now seemed to be instinctive.
Taye threaded her fingers through Falcon’s thick, black hair, thinking she would permit just one kiss down there. But the moment his tongue brushed the dampness at the apex of her thighs, she was lost in sensation. Just one stroke of his tongue—two—and she was moaning aloud again, writhing beneath him.
Again he lay still, giving her time to catch her breath. When she could speak, she reached for him. “Falcon—”
“Shh,” he hushed. “I have waited a long time to touch you, to taste you. Do not stop me now.” And as he spoke, he had already begun to stroke her, exploring in knowing ways she had not explored herself.
Twice more Taye cried out with satisfaction. At last, when she so tired she could not lift her lashes, Falcon stretched out beside her. He blew out the lamp beside the bed and enveloped her in his arms.
“I love you, my Taye,” Falcon whispered in her ear. “Tell me that you love me and I will wait for you until the end of my days.”
“I love you,” she whispered, her eyes closed. “I want to be with you. Always.”
“Then tomorrow I will send word to Jackson. He will tell us what we must do so that we can be together always.”
Taye opened her eyes one last time to see Falcon looking down at her and then she drifted off to sleep, content that no matter what happened, she could die a happy woman.