Adam was whistling as he made his way across the yard toward where the buggy awaited to carry him out to the fields. He had to go carefully, since the ground was still muddy and his cane tended to slip, but nothing could mar his mood this morning. After the most pleasant breakfast he had enjoyed in years, Lori had invited him to kiss her again “the third way,” and the taste of her still lingered enticingly on his lips. Maybe he’d come back at noon anyway, no matter how much work there was to do.
“Massa!”
Sudie’s urgent cry startled him, and he turned to find her picking her way gingerly around the puddles as she hurried to catch him up.
“Is something wrong?” he asked in alarm, thinking of Lori and wondering what could have possibly happened in the few minutes since he’d left her.
But Sudie grinned at him. “Not if what I saw this mornin’ mean what I think it mean,” she said.
Adam managed not to grin back. “And what do you think it means?”
“I think it mean you and Miss Lori warmin’ up to each other.”
“She is my wife,” Adam reminded her.
Sudie nodded and slowly her grin faded. “Yessir, Massa, she is, an’ you been mighty patient with her.”
He had indeed. He had practically qualified for sainthood.
“I just wanna warn you to keep goin’ slow so’s you don’t scare her,” Sudie continued. “After what happen to her an’ all, she still be mighty skittish, even if she think she over it.”
Adam stared at her in surprise. He couldn’t believe Lori had confided her deepest shame to Sudie, especially not after the way his slave had treated Lori in the beginning. He’d known the two women had made peace but... “She told you?” he asked incredulously.
Sudie nodded again. “I don’t reckon she could keep what that devil done to her a secret much longer.”
This was impossible! Sudie couldn’t be condemning Eric, not after she’d forgiven every other evil he’d ever committed in his entire life. “She told you who did this to her?” he demanded.
“Oh, no, sir,” Sudie hastily assured him. “She really don’t know who it was. If you was thinkin’ she just kept it a secret from you... Well, she didn’t know him. Said she never saw him before or since.”
Oh, of course, now it all made perfect sense. Sudie had no idea that Eric was the one responsible for all of this. And Adam wasn’t going to tell her, either. “I see,” he said.
“An’ I knows ’bout the baby,” she added, answering his other unspoken question. He’d been wondering when she would figure out why he had married Lori in such haste. “Which is why you gots to be extra careful with her. A lady in her condition, well, that make her skittish, too.”
Wonderful, just what he wanted to hear. And he didn’t want to think about the child at all, not until he absolutely had to. “Thank you for your very considered advice, Sudie,” he said, dismissing her. He planted his cane very deliberately as he began to turn away.
“Massa Adam?”
Reluctantly, he stopped and waited for whatever additional wisdom she wanted to impart.
“A baby an easy thing to love, no matter if it yours or not.”
Sudie had certainly proven that with her blind devotion to Eric all these years. For his own part, Adam would simply take her word. Not trusting himself to reply, he started toward the buggy again, his pleasant mood ruined.
***
“Thank you, Missy,” the old woman said with a weak smile as Lori finished placing the warm onion poultice on her chest. Lori and Sudie were doing their rounds of the slave quarters, tending to the sick and injured. This woman had the grippe and a terrible cough that the recent wet weather had only aggravated.
“This is what my stepmother always did for me when I had a cough,” Lori replied, returning her smile. “I hope it eases you some.”
The old woman only nodded, afraid to talk for fear of starting her cough again. Her dark face was sheened with sweat, and Lori was very much afraid she was going to fail in her duty as mistress to save this woman’s life. She glanced helplessly at the basket of remedies she and Sudie always carried with them on these calls, and longed to see some miracle there. She didn’t.
Sudie touched her arm. “We best go now so Pammy can get some rest,” she said softly.
“I’ll come back this afternoon to check on you,” Lori promised, picking up her basket and turning toward the door. Outside on the beaten path that wound through the slave quarter cabins, she could hear the happy cries of the slave children who played nearby under the watchful eye of the elderly slaves who had grown too old to work in the fields. Pammy had been one of them until illness had felled her. Reluctantly, Lori remembered what Adam had said about how some masters put their old slaves out to starve.
“She’s going to die, isn’t she?” Lori asked when they were safely away from the cabin and couldn’t be overheard.
“Everybody dies, sooner or later,” Sudie reminded her. “Look there.” She pointed at where two small children were playing in the wet grass. A little while ago, Lori had dosed them with tonic for summer complaint and now they were frolicking as if nothing was ever wrong with them. “You done some good today. And don’t forget Henry’s foot. You saw how much better it looked this mornin’.”
Henry had stepped on a thorn and the cut had festered. Fortunately, a tobacco poultice had drawn off the poison, and he would probably be back at work in a few days, as good as new.
Still, she saw the way they looked at her, suspicion in their eyes. She might be Adam’s wife, but she had not yet taken her place in their eyes as their mistress. She was beginning to wonder if she ever would.
“You an’ Massa Adam seem a lot happier this mornin’,” Sudie observed, reminding her that at least one area of her life was improving. It was as close as Sudie would come to inquiring outright into the private business of her master and mistress.
Lori simply smiled politely, not certain exactly how much she should confide in a slave, even one of Sudie’s exalted rank.
“How you been feelin’ lately?” Sudie went on. “Any more sickness?”
“No, none at all. That seems to have passed,” Lori reported with some surprise. She hadn’t been thinking about it at all.
Sudie nodded. “Usually does, sooner or later. You feel the baby move yet?”
Lori glanced at her warily. “No,” she said and then added, “or at least I don’t think so. What does it feel like?”
“Not much at first, just a little flutter, like when you hold a butterfly in your hands.”
Instinctively, Lori’s hand went to her stomach. “I’ve felt that! I didn’t... That’s it? That’s the baby?”
Sudie nodded, and Lori felt almost faint for a moment as the reality of it swept over her. The thing inside of her was alive! She’d tried not to think about it, tried to pretend it wasn’t there, and except for a new tightness in her clothes, she’d managed to ignore the whole subject.
She’d stopped on the path back to the house, and Sudie stopped, too. “You all right, Missy?” she asked with a worried frown.
Was she? She didn’t really know, nor was she sure how she felt exactly. Certainly not as disgusted as she had expected to feel at knowing the child lived within her. And as she stood there trying to decide, she felt the tiny flutter deep in her belly again and with it came a sense of wonder so profound that her breath caught in her chest and tears came to her eyes.
“Missy?” Sudie was alarmed now. “Maybe you oughta sit down.”
“No, I’m fine, really!” Lori insisted. “I just... I felt it move again! Oh, Sudie, I didn’t expect to be excited!"
“ ’Course you is! It’s one ah God’s miracles, the way he takes even the worst thing in the world and makes it right again.”
Things were far from right, of course, but Lori wanted to believe her. She wanted to believe that the child she carried really was innocent and that she might be able to forget someday how she had come to bear it and perhaps even love it the way a mother should. And even, if miracles did happen, that Adam would come to love it, too. But that was too much to hope for right now. For the moment she would be content to know that the hot ball of anger and hate that she had carried for so long was beginning to dissolve. And that today she had known true happiness, if only for a few fleeting moments at a time.
“Now let’s get you back to the house,” Sudie said, taking Lori’s arm to assist her. “Watch that mud there. Can’t have you fallin’, not in your condition.”
***
As he had expected, Adam didn’t return to the house until after dark that evening. Lori had been sitting in the back parlor, listening for him, and when she heard the rattle of the buggy, she jumped up and ran out onto the porch to meet him.
The buggy and horse were splattered with mud, and when Adam climbed down, she saw he was, too. His boots were caked and his pant legs and coattails were covered. His face was creased with fatigue, too, and he was limping more noticeably than usual, even with his cane, but he was smiling as he made his way across the yard toward her.
“How do the crops look?” she asked, hardly able to keep from bouncing up and down on her toes from the excitement of seeing him again after a long, lonely day without him.
“The vegetables are doing fine, and so is the corn. Some of the cotton was washed away, but we can replant. It’s still early enough.” He had a streak of mud across his face, and when he pulled off his broad-brimmed hat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve, his hair was wet and matted to his head. She thought he had never looked more handsome, and she had an almost irresistible urge to throw her arms around him.
It must have shown in her face, too, because he held up his hands as if to ward her off. “If you have any orders for me, Mrs. Ross, they’d better wait until I get cleaned up a little. Wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty dress.”
Her hand went self-consciously to her throat. “Do you really think it’s pretty?” It was one of the simple wrappers that one of the slave girls had made for her. She and Sudie had chosen the style because it would adapt to her growing figure.
“Yes,” he said, letting his gaze drift lazily over her from head to feet, “but then maybe that’s just because of the lady who’s wearing it.”
Lori had never received a compliment like that before, and she felt herself flushing with pleasure. If she hadn’t already loved Adam Ross, she would have begun loving him in that moment.
“I’ll have Oscar take some hot water to your room so you can get cleaned up,” she said quickly to get the conversation back on more familiar ground. She stepped aside so he could begin to use the boot scraper to clean off his boots.
He gave the process only half of his attention though, because he kept looking back up at Lori, as if he couldn’t bear to go without seeing her for too long at a stretch. For her own part, Lori didn’t want to take her eyes off him at all, even though she knew she should be going to find Oscar.
Fortunately, Oscar found them a few minutes later.
“Better get them boots off ’fore you set foot in the house, Massa,” he warned. “Sudie have my hide if you get mud on her clean floors!”
“I’d already thought of that,” Adam said as he moved to put his heel in the boot jack.
“Don’t use that ol’ thing,” Oscar protested. “That ruin them boots for sure!”
“I don’t want you getting all dirty pulling these off,” Adam protested right back, and Lori had to admit, it would be a filthy job.
“I can wash my hands easy enough,” Oscar pointed out, “but where you gonna get another pair a boots like that with the Yankees makin’ sure we don’t get nothin’ in or out of Texas?”
Without another word, Oscar turned his back and bent over to remove Adam’s first boot. He was right, of course, and for the first time in days, Lori remembered the terrible war that raged ever closer to them. How easy it was to forget, except for the inconvenience of getting goods they’d once taken for granted. But of course life at Elmhurst was easier than it had been for her and Bessie because here they had the means to make many of the things that were no longer available.
The skills to do so had almost been forgotten in recent years. Since Texas had grown more populous, ships had begun making regular stops at her ports to deliver the things that Texans had done without or made themselves during the early years. But the war had necessitated a return to self-sufficiency.
“Don’t worry about the Yankees, Oscar,” Adam was saying. “My brother’ll make short work of them, and then we’ll be able to get whatever we want, just like in the old days.”
At the mention of Eric, Lori felt the blood rushing from her head, and she knew she couldn’t stay where she was for another moment. “I’ll get some... some hot water,” she murmured and fled into the house.
She heard Adam calling her name and knew he must realize what he had done, reminding her of Eric when he was the last person on earth she ever wanted to think of again. He’d want to apologize and make it right, but she didn’t want to hear that. She didn’t want to hear any more about it at all. She found one of the maids in the hall and told her to fetch some hot water to Massa Adam’s room right away. Then she hurried off to the kitchen to make sure his supper would be kept warm while he washed.
By the time he returned, washed and wearing fresh clothes with his damp hair combed neatly, Lori had completely recovered herself.
Hearing his step in the hallway as he approached the dining room, she went to meet him. He was walking with his cane, something he rarely did in the house, and she realized his leg must be bothering him.
“Are you in pain?” she asked, but he shook his head.
“Lori, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”
“That’s all right,” she said with forced brightness, determined not to let any ugliness spoil their evening. “Please, let’s not talk about it anymore. Your supper is waiting.”
She took his free arm and hugged it tightly, silently telling him she bore him no ill will for his slip of the tongue. He smiled down at her, although his eyes were full of questions. “You look very lovely tonight,” he told her, obviously willing to play along with her.
“And you, sir, look much better than you did a few minutes ago,” she replied.
“Not much of a compliment,” he allowed, smiling for real this time, “but I’ll take it.”
He allowed her to lead him into the dining room, and he made short work of the simple meal that Esther served to him. For her own part, Lori only picked at her food. She was more interested in watching Adam and studying his every move and every expression. The way his long-fingered hands gripped his fork. The way his lips closed around his food. The way they curved when he smiled and flattened when he frowned. The way his golden hair curled slightly on his neck as it dried. The way the tips of his eyelashes were so light—they were almost invisible. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the way they shone when he looked at her. And what did he see when he did?
Not the ragged girl who had lived in the shack at the edge of his property, at least. She might not be the kind of fine lady he deserved to have as his wife, but at least she wasn’t trash anymore. She had shoes on her feet and decent clothes, and if her manners weren’t perfect yet, she was making progress. His slaves might not completely respect her, but they did obey her now. And while many of the tasks she would have to master were still a mystery, she had learned most of the important ones. Slowly but surely, she was earning her place in his life, and when she did, when she was the kind of woman he should have married in the first place, perhaps then he would love her the way she loved him.
Adam used his bread to soak up the last of the gravy or his plate and popped it into his mouth. His hunger satisfied, at least for the moment, he settled back into his chair to sip the remainder of his coffee and to look at his wife.
God, he missed that ragged girl he’d known for so many years. How long had it been since he’d first noticed that she had made the critical transition from girl to woman? When she’d first pinned up her hair and let down her skirts to cover her slender ankles? When her dress no longer hung on her bony frame but clung to newly-rounded feminine curves?
For a second he pictured how she had looked the day he’d gone to see her in that hovel where she lived. Her hair had hung loose, her enticing body had moved freely, unencumbered by corsets or petticoats, and her tiny, perfect feet had been bare. His blood quickened at the memory, even as he stared at the more proper version of the very same woman.
Would he ever possess that girl, the one he had imagined would be the wanton fulfillment of all his fantasies? Even if he stripped away these restrictive clothes and pulled her hair down loose around her naked shoulders, would she become that girl again? Or was she lost forever along with Lori’s innocence?
Or perhaps she had never existed at all except in his heated imagination.
Shaking off the disturbing thought, he said, “Shall we retire to the parlor?”
As if she had been anticipating the invitation, she was on her feet in a moment. Adam took slightly longer to get up. His thigh felt like it was on fire, and he had to be careful not to stumble.
He followed her out of the room, distracting himself from the pain in his leg by admiring the curve of her back and the gentle sway of her hips as she walked. As usual, she matched her step to his when she fell in beside him in the hall, apparently taking no notice of how slowly he was moving tonight. It seemed to take forever to get to the other side of the house, but at last they reached the parlor door.
Hating his weakness—and the fact that he couldn’t hide it from her—he sank down into one of the wingbacked chairs with a weary sigh. Before he knew what she was doing, Lori had brought over a footstool and set it in front of him. Then, when he began to lift his foot onto it, she knelt and helped, taking the weight of his heel in her cupped hands and positioning it gently on the stool.
He felt the heat of humiliation burning in his cheeks, but when she looked up, he saw no trace of disgust on her lovely face. “Can I get you anything?” she asked.
He wanted to say no. He wanted to be the one getting something—anything—for her. But he said, “Some brandy, please,” because he needed it desperately.
He’d half-expected her to ask where it was, but she went directly to the cabinet and opened it. She even pulled out the right kind of glass, the globe-shaped one, and filled it from the correct bottle. Sudie must have been educating her on more than just how to plan the meals.
She carried the glass back to him, cradling it with her hands as if she understood the liquor should be warmed with body heat before it could be properly enjoyed. Perhaps, he couldn’t help thinking, there were some advantages to having her become more sophisticated.
“Thank you,” he said, making sure to touch her fingers as he took the glass from her. They felt cool and soft, and he imagined they trembled slightly.
“Would you like me to rub your leg for you?” she asked, when he had taken a sip of the brandy.
He was glad she’d waited until he had swallowed. Otherwise, he might have choked. He almost did anyway, although why he should have been surprised, he didn’t know. He’d shown her how to perform this service for him the very first day they were married.
“I’d like that very much,” he replied. “I’m afraid I was a little foolish today and did a bit more walking than I should have.”
Wincing inwardly at his understatement—he’d acted like a bloody fool, tramping around in the mud all day like a man with two good legs even when he’d known there’d be hell to pay for it later—he watched as she sank to her knees beside him in a puddle of skirts.
He braced himself for her touch, but he still wasn’t pre-pared for the sensation of her gentle fingers kneading the sensitive skin of his thigh. The pain vibrated through him, quivering like a living thing, while at the same time, pleasure seared him, settling in his groin in a hot pool of desire.
How odd. She was doing exactly the same thing Sudie had always done, kneeling beside him and massaging out the soreness. Why had he never felt these sensations before? This desperate longing? This raging need?
He downed the brandy in long gulps in a futile effort to quench the fire burning inside of him and only succeeded in dulling the distracting agony of his leg. Every other sensation remained unaffected and perhaps it had actually grown more acute.
“Would you like some more?” she asked when she saw his glass was empty.
He did, but he also knew the danger of drinking too much. A man could lose control of himself, and Adam needed some control at least. “No, thank you,” he said, setting the glass on the table beside him. “What I do need, however, is for you to come up here.”
Her fingers froze on his leg. Plainly, she didn’t understand.
“Up here,” he clarified, patting his right thigh. “So I can hold you. If you will,” he added, realizing he had broken their agreement already. What if she refused him? What if...?
But she didn’t refuse him. She said, “Of course I will,” and rose to her feet and came to him.
He was aware of so many things at once that he could hardly assimilate them. Her scent. Her heat. Her softness. The way her round little bottom settled against his leg. How slender her waist was within the curve of his arm. How fine her skin looked so close up and how her eyes weren’t solid blue at all but a dozen different shades of it all blended together.
He could hardly catch his breath for a moment and wondered if perhaps he had drunk too much brandy, after all.
Then she slipped her slender left arm around his neck and all rational thought fled completely.
“I think,” she said quite solemnly, “that I would like a kiss.”
“You can kiss me, if you want to. You don’t even have to ask,” he heard the brandy saying.
“I don’t?” she asked in surprise, and he smiled because she was the most delightful creature he had ever known.
“Of course you don’t. I would never refuse you anything.”
It was a rash promise, but he felt no guilt in making it because he honestly believed it to be true.
She seemed to be considering this, or at least she was considering something. Her eyes narrowed and her lips quivered slightly, and then she lifted her right hand and caressed his cheek.
“You’ll scratch yourself,” he warned, but she only smiled.
“Your beard is soft. I’ll bet it’s beautiful, too…You should let it grow.”
“To hide my ugly face?” he guessed.
“You’re not ugly!” she insisted, as he’d hoped she would. “And don’t pretend you don’t know it! You’ve got a mirror.”
He couldn’t seem to stop smiling at her. “How long are you going to make me wait until you kiss me?”
Lori stared into his eyes and saw things there she’d never allowed herself to imagine he might feel for her. Once again, she felt that heady rush of feminine power, and it gave her the courage she needed to lower her face to Adam’s and touch her mouth to his.
His lips were warm and soft and yielding, and he tasted of brandy and himself. She had expected him to take over the kiss once she’d started it, but he simply sat, passive, while she sampled his mouth. Emboldened by his submission, she ended the kiss and indulged herself by pressing her lips to his cheek so she could experience the rest of the face she had loved for so very long.
Hesitantly at first, she kissed only his cheeks, but when he did not protest—and indeed, closed his eyes and leaned his head back as if to grant her better access—she continued her tender exploration. His chin, his jaw, his temples, his forehead, even the delicate curve of his eyelids. His breath was coming more quickly when she moved on to his ear where she tasted the fleshy softness of his earlobe, and she could see his pulse racing in his throat.
“Lori?” he said in a strangled voice.
“Yes?” she replied uncertainly, afraid she might have done something wrong.
“I want to touch you.”
What did he mean? He was already touching her. His arm was around her and she was sitting in his lap, for heavens’ sake. “Where?” she asked stupidly.
“Everywhere,” he replied, his voice still rough, but this time with amusement. “But how about if I just start someplace and you tell me when to stop?”
“I... all right,” she agreed unevenly. Her own pulse was racing now, but whether from excitement or fear, she took no time to decide as she waited for his first move.
As if sensing her wariness, he took his time, settling his arm around her more securely while he brought his other hand up to caress her cheek. His fingers explored her face the way Lori’s lips had explored his, delicately and thoroughly, tracing every line and curve and finding sensitive spots she hadn’t even dreamed were there. Along her throat and behind her ear and finally her lips themselves. He traced them with his fingertip until they literally tingled with the need to be kissed.
But only when she whispered his name in entreaty did he end her torment by covering her mouth with his. This time she clung to him with more boldness than she’d ever dared display before, wrapping her arms around his neck to make sure he didn’t pull away before she was ready to let him go.
He made no move to go, however. He merely deepened the kiss, coaxing her lips apart with the tip of his tongue until she opened to his gentle invasion. Vaguely, she recalled that she had been frightened the last time he’d tried this, but she wasn’t frightened now. She was simply entranced, as if the feel of his mouth on hers had mesmerized her.
His hands were moving on her now, stroking her back and her shoulders and down her arms. Soothing her, gentling her, petting her, until her bones seemed to soften in response. She buried her fingers in the thickness of his hair, holding his face to hers so the kiss would never end, so this pleasure would never end.
His tongue teased hers, daring it to play, and an answering heat swirled inside of her, delicious and dangerous but not frightening—oh, no, because she was still in control, in perfect control. And then his hand closed over her breast.
Her breath caught in surprise and alarm, but he was whispering something against her lips, something to calm her, something about it being all right. It wasn’t all right, of course. It was very much not all right, but before she could say so, his thumb found her nipple through the layers of her clothing and began to coax it to life.
She gasped again, this time with shock as the most unexpected sensations sizzled over her. She hated it. She loved it. She didn’t know what she felt at all, and she felt so many things all at once, she couldn’t begin to figure it out.
She’d had no idea that a man’s touch could be so magical, not when experience had taught her otherwise. But Adam’s hands weren’t a violation. Oh, no, they were something else entirely. She wasn’t sure she should even be allowing this, but she was so swamped with sensation that she couldn’t think how to stop it, either.
Before she knew what he was about, he’d scooped up her legs and draped them over the arm of the chair and leaned her farther back so she was even more helpless. His lips left a trail of fire down her throat and the next thing she knew, his mouth had replaced his fingers at her nipple.
Without Adam’s kisses to drug her, Lori’s head cleared in a moment, and when she realized what he was doing to her, that she had completely lost control, she cried out in protest. Adam froze at the sound, his mouth still hot on her breast, and in that instant, Lori realized the rasping sound she heard was her own breath, as she struggled to draw it, and the pounding in her head was the labored beating of her own heart.
For a second, neither of them moved, and then Adam lifted his head. His face was flushed, his hair mussed from her hands, and his breath came fast, as if he’d been running, but it was the expression in his eyes that startled her most. The wild, lost look that reminded her so much of him that for a second...
And then it was gone. With a groan, he lowered his head again, but only to rest it against her breasts, as if he really were as winded as he sounded. She lay perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe for fear she might somehow start him up again and that this time Adam wouldn’t be able to stop, just like he hadn’t been able to stop.
But Adam was merely catching his breath, and when he had, he lifted his head again and smiled at her. It was a naughty, wicked, unrepentant smile that told her he knew what he had done to her and how he’d made her feel, at least for a few moments, and was glad of it.
“That was very nice,” he said, making her blink in surprise. “Didn’t you think so?” he asked when she didn’t reply.
She did, of course, most of it anyway, but she wasn’t sure it would be ladylike to admit it. “I was afraid... I mean, I didn’t think you’d be able to stop,” she corrected herself as she struggled to sit upright.
“I didn’t want to,” he admitted, helping her put her feet back on the floor again so she could sit upright on his knee again.
She looked at him in surprise, not quite sure she believed him. He had said he couldn’t stop, that no man could, that it was her fault for leading him on. Except that she hadn’t, not really. So maybe the rest of it had been a lie, too.
“Don’t you believe me?” Adam asked. He seemed amused. “Well, let me assure you, Lori, there is nothing in this world I’d rather do right now than finish what we just started. Why do you find that hard to believe?”
“I don’t! I mean, I...” She stammered to a halt when his amusement only increased.
“Oh, then you do realize how desirable you are.”
“No!” she insisted, blushing furiously in an agony of embarrassment. “I mean, am I? Do you really think so?”
“Of course I think so. I thought I made that pretty clear just now, but if you’d like me to try again...” he added suggestively.
“Oh, no, thank you, that’s all right,” she said hastily, jumping to her feet and out of his arms at last.
She’d expected to feel at least a trace of relief to be free, but instead she felt bereft. And cold. As if all the warmth had suddenly gone out of her life. Then she looked into his eyes again and saw the heat was still there, waiting for her to claim it again.
Part of her wanted to, desperately, a part of her she’d never even suspected existed. But the rest of her was still afraid of what that might mean and the loss of control it would require. So she took a step back to put some distance between herself and temptation.
She cast about for something neutral to say and settled for, “Is your, uh, leg feeling better?”
He grinned, as if he knew exactly what she was doing. “I forgot it was even there,” he claimed. “Now other parts of me are aching, but I don’t think you’ll want to rub them, at least not tonight.”
She had no idea what he was talking about and decided she would be wise not to ask. As gracefully as she could, she sat down in the opposite chair and began to fumble in the knitting basket for something to occupy her hands.
“Lori?”
She looked up warily, ready, she hoped for anything.
“What is that short for? Your name, I mean. Is it Laura?”
She managed not to wince. “No,” she said, as embarrassed as she always was to admit the truth. “It’s Lorelei.”
She braced herself for his expression of surprise, the re-action she usually got, unless she received outright laughter at such a ridiculous name. Instead, Adam merely nodded his head, as if he had expected as much. “I should have known. The siren from the sea who lures men to their doom.”
“What?”
“Your name. Didn’t you know that’s what it means?”
She shook her head. She’d always been too humiliated to even consider the possibility it might have a meaning, too.
“The Lorelei was a mythical creature, a beautiful young woman who sat on the rocks by the sea and sang lovely songs. Sailors who hadn’t seen a woman in months would be lured by those songs, and their ships would wreck on the rocks.”
“How awful!” she cried, more mortified than ever over her parents’ fanciful choice of a name for her.
“Perhaps not,” Adam disagreed. “I can think of many less pleasant ways to die. And to live, too.” His crystal blue eyes darkened, and Lori instantly felt the urge to lighten them again.
“What do you mean?”
For a moment, she was afraid he wouldn’t reply, and then he smiled sadly. “I mean it might be worse to hear the Lorelei’s song and not even be able to try to reach her because something holds you back.”
She couldn’t imagine what he was talking about, until she noticed he was rubbing his thigh again. Surely, he didn’t think... But of course he did. He was so proud. He would hate anything that held him back, even if it was only in his imagination.
She should tell him she didn’t care, that it didn’t matter if his leg was whole or not, that even still he was ten times the man of anyone else she knew. She should tell him that she loved him, that she’d always loved him, and that part of the reason she did was because of his courage.
But while she was trying to find the words, she saw him lean his head back against the chair again and close his eyes and sigh wearily. And after a moment, his hand stilled from rubbing his thigh, and she knew he was asleep. She would tell him, but not tonight. Not when he was so tired. But soon. She would have to tell him soon. And when she did, perhaps she would also find the courage to do what he really wanted and finish what they’d started tonight.
***
Eric muttered a curse as he rode along, wiping the sweat out of his eyes with his sleeve. Every time he thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. First, there was the choking dust, then drowning rain for days and days, and now the whole world had turned into a simmering swamp. The heat was suffocating, the air thick enough to cut, and not even shade could provide a respite from the miasma.
Not that there even was any shade, either, at least not as far as Eric could see, unless you wanted to crawl under some sticker bush. This road seemed to go on forever with nothing in sight. How in the hell they were supposed to scavenge for food when there was nothing out here but...
Then he saw it, a solitary cabin sitting in the middle of nowhere. Smoke curled from the chimney, and a few scraps of laundry hung drying on some scrubby bushes.
“Look there, Lieutenant,” Billy called, pointing.
“Seems we’re in luck, boys,” Eric informed his troops. He’d only brought a few of them with him. If they found anything really good, he didn’t want to have to share it with everyone.
One of them coughed, and as if that was a cue, several others echoed the sound. It sent Eric’s teeth on edge. If there was one thing he hated, it was sickness, and the rain seemed to have made half of Rip Ford’s army sick. How anybody could have a cold when it was hot enough to roast meat without lighting a fire, Eric sure as hell didn’t know.
“I hope they got a pig,” Billy said. He was one of the few who wasn’t sick yet. “I sure could use a big plate of pork chops.”
“You let me do the talking,” Eric warned them. “Your job is to back me in case there’s trouble, but there shouldn’t be any. The Captain gave me plenty of script to pay for whatever we take.”
One of the other boys snorted derisively. “They won’t want no script. Everybody knows it’s worthless.”
That was true, of course, which was why Eric needed armed troops with him. If a farmer wasn’t eager to donate his provender to the Confederate cause, they would have to take it by force. In fact, Eric was kind of hoping they would. After the Yankees had fled ffom Rio Grande City, they’d been stranded for weeks again, waiting for supplies that never came. All this waiting was making him restless again, and he knew just what he needed to calm him down again.
“I wonder do they got any girls at this place,” Billy said, inspiring some snickers from the other boys.
Eric grinned. “And what if they do?”
Billy grinned back. “Reckon we could have us a little fun then, like we did the other night.”
“Place that small won’t have no slaves,” another boy said.
“Ain’t no rule says she got to be colored, is there?” Billy challenged. “Me, I like white meat better, anyways.”
This outrageous remark earned him hoots from the other boys, and one of them said, “Better look out. You go sniffin’ ’round a white girl, you’ll likely get yourself shot, Billy.” Billy glared defiantly at the other boys who murmured their agreement, then he looked at Eric. “You said white girls is even better,” he reminded him.
Enjoying his role as elder statesman—nobody at Elmhurst had ever sought his opinion about anything—Eric frowned the way his old man had always frowned at him whenever he’d considered Eric a fool, which had been most of the time. “They are,” Eric agreed, speaking from his vast experience, “but the boys are right, you’ve got to be careful. No woman’s worth a load of buckshot in your backside.”
The boys hooted at Billy’s embarrassment, and Eric smiled benignly, still savoring the power of his position. These boys would do whatever he told them, whether it be kill a man or hold down a slave girl while they each took a turn with her.
That had been some night, the most fun he’d had since he’d joined up with this godforsaken army. Just enough whiskey to loosen him up and then the girl.
They’d found her sleeping in a shack on the edge of town. Plainly, she belonged to the family in the big house nearby, but Eric didn’t think they’d mind too much. It wasn’t like they were going to hurt her or anything. She’d screamed at first, until they got a rag stuffed in her mouth, and she’d tried to fight, at least in the beginning. That had been fine with Eric, who had by privilege of rank gone first. But she didn’t have much fight in her, so by the time the second or third boy was done with her, she was just laying there crying. Stupid whore. Stupid, stinking whore. What did she have to cry about? Hell, nobody even lifted a hand to her.
And after that, the boys had looked at him differently. They knew he was more than a veteran soldier now. He’d taught them the ways of the world. He’d shown them what life was all about. He was their leader.
The cabin was closed up tight with the shutters drawn when they arrived, although it was obvious somebody was home. Smoke still curled from the stick and daub chimney, and Eric could actually feel the gaze of the residents, whoever they might be. As they approached, Eric heard a dog’s frantic barking from inside, but it stopped abruptly as someone hushed the animal.
“They got pigs,” Billy pointed out unnecessarily. The stench would have told them, even if they hadn’t been able to see the wallow, plain as day. Two fat sows lay in the mud, not even acknowledging their arrival with so much as a flick of an eyelash. This would be a profitable trip.
“Hello, the house!” Eric called. The place was pathetic, practically falling down for want of repair. The shirts drying on the bushes were hardly more than rags.
“What you want?” a voice called from inside. Eric couldn’t tell if it belonged to a man or a woman, although if it was a man, Eric was sure he would be too old to be of any danger to them. No other kind of men were left in Texas, and precious few of them now that so many had joined Ford’s army.
“We want to buy your pigs,” Eric reported.
“They ain’t for sale. Now git before I start shootin’!”
That was a danger, of course. Even a helpless old man could kill you with a gun. But they had guns, too, and more of them.
“I’ve got government script,” Eric said in a last effort to be conciliatory. “And I’m prepared to be more than generous.”
“Don’t make me waste a bullet on you, boy!” the voice called. “I been savin’ ’em for the Yanks!”
Eric was studying the situation. The cabin had only one window and that faced the front. The pigs were in the back.
“All right!” Eric said. “You win. We’re leaving.”
“Lieutenant!” Billy protested, but Eric silenced him with a look.
“Follow me,” he commanded his puzzled troops.
“It’s just one man,” Billy muttered as they turned their horses. “We could take him easy.”
“While he picks us off one by one,” Eric pointed out.
He led them back down the road until he judged they were out of the line of fire from the window, then he yelled, “Come on!” and kicked his horse into a run and circled back around the house to where the pigs waited.
The boys needed only a second to figure out his intention, and they were right behind him as he charged into the yard.
“You two,” Eric yelled, pointing at two of the boys, “set the pigs loose and run them to the road! The rest of you, stand guard!” He pulled his pistol and the others drew whatever weapons they had as their mounts danced excitedly.
The two boys Eric had designated threw open the gate to the wallow and rousted the pigs who began to squeal in panic. Eric fought to control his horse as he kept his gaze fixed on the house, ready to fire at the first sign of trouble. It came from an unlikely source.
“No!” someone behind him screamed, and he glanced over his shoulder to see a small figure darting from the ramshackle barn. “You leave them pigs alone!”
The figure was moving so fast, racing across the yard to head off the escaping pigs, that Eric needed a second to identify it.
“It’s a girl!” Billy cried in the same instant Eric himself realized the truth.
A very young girl, to be sure, but a girl, nonetheless. Barefoot and wearing a threadbare gown that hung in tatters around her naked legs, her long black hair streaming out behind her. Recognition sent a pang of longing throbbing through him in the moment before his brain could acknowledge that she wasn’t really Lori, but he still yelled, “Catch her!”
Billy needed no further urging, and he kicked his sway-backed mule into a lope and went after her. The other boys shouted their encouragement as Billy gallumped along and the girl deftly zigged and zagged, simultaneously avoiding Billy and herding the pigs toward the thorny underbrush where no horse or mule would follow.
They were all screaming encouragement to the boy who finally managed to capture a handful of black hair and drag the girl to a halt. She was screaming and yelling and calling down every curse heaven could offer as he turned the mule and started walking it back while the girl stumbled and dragged along beside him, still screaming.
“We’ll have us some fun now!” Billy shouted triumphantly over her screams. “I get her first, too!”
The boys who had rousted the pigs were running toward him while the other boys were jumping down from their horses, ready for the fun Billy was promising them. Eric had already opened his mouth to shout at them to wait—he was still in charge here—when Billy’s head exploded.
Before their eyes could even register the horror of it, they heard the roar of the rifle behind them and then the shouted warning, “Run, Sharon! Run, girl!”
For what seemed like forever, nobody moved. Billy still sat his mule, even with most of his head blown away, and he still held the girl fast by the hair. But in the next second she tore free, leaving a fist full of black hair still clutched tightly in Billy’s frozen hand, and she raced for the brush.
Finally, Eric turned to find an old man with one leg, supported by a crude wooden crutch and still aiming the huge, old blunderbuss. “Run, Sharon, run!” he was still shouting, too, and not paying the least bit of attention to any of the men, but only watching to make sure the girl was escaping.
The old bastard! Look what he’d done! In a rage, Eric lifted his pistol and fired. A hole appeared in the old man’s forehead, and after another second he crumpled lifeless to the ground.
Satisfied, Eric jerked his horse around again, looking for other enemies, someone else to kill. The girl? Where was she? He didn’t want to kill her of course, but he’d need her later, after it was all over.
Except that she was gone. Disappeared along with the pigs into the impenetrable thicket of thorns and spines and cactus. “Where’s the girl?” he shouted furiously. “Go after her! Find her!”
But the boys weren’t paying the slightest attention to him. They were all still staring at Billy, watching in horrified fascination as his mule continued to walk and Billy’s half-headed body continued to ride, swaying now, back and forth, growing ever more unsteady until finally, slowly, it slid over to one side and toppled to the ground with a thump.
“Jesus,” one of the boys said, and it sounded more like £ prayer than a curse.
What the hell was wrong with them? Were they just going to let the girl get away like that?
Eric kicked his horse into a run and raced past where the mule had lumbered to a stop and past where Billy’s body lay in a bloody heap and on to the edge of the clearing
“Come out of there, girl!” he shouted furiously, then caught himself. Use your head! he told himself, echoing his father’s words to him. How many times had the old bastard warned him about going off half-cocked? “Hey, girl!” he tried more calmly. What the hell was her name? Oh, yeah. “Hey, Sharon, come out here! The old man needs you! He’s hurt real bad!”
He waited, listening. At first, all he heard was the thundering of his own heart and the roaring of his own blood in his ears.
“Sharon!” he tried again and was rewarded by a rustle it the undergrowth.
She was coming out! His heart thundered even louder as he waited, tracing the noise of a body scraping against the tearing thorns, holding his breath with anticipation. She was a scrawny little thing, but Billy had been right, white girls were always better. Maybe he’d even keep this one, take her with him. She could do their laundry and be the company whore. She’d be a hell of a lot better off than she was here, too, especially with the old man dead.
The movement was getting closer. She was almost here. He jammed his pistol back in its holster and kicked his horse into motion as he hurried to the spot where she would appear, then caught a glimpse of movement, and then she broke free of the brush. Except it wasn’t the girl at all, it was one of the pigs. Running free again. Damn it!
“Sharon!” he screamed, trying desperately to peer into the thick undergrowth but seeing nothing. He glanced around frantically and saw the other boys were still standing where they’d been when Billy had toppled over. The frantic pig raced by them unnoticed.
“At least catch the damn pig!” he cried, but none of them gave any indication he had even heard. Kicking the horse again, he rode over to them. “Wake up!” he shouted, leaning from his saddle to cuff first one and then another. “What’s the matter, you never seen a dead man before!”
They turned horror-filled eyes on him as they dodged and ducked to avoid his crazed assault.
“You worthless sons of bitches!” he condemned them all, but they didn’t seem to even hear the insult. They just kept staring with those huge, blank eyes. “Isn’t anybody interested in that piece of tail that got away? Isn’t anybody going after her?”
“Billy’s dead!” one of the boys shouted back, as if that explained everything.
“You’ve seen men die before,” he reminded them furiously, but they only kept staring at him. Worthless sons of bitches. “All right, mount up,” he said in disgust. “There’s nothing left for us here.”
“What about Billy?” another of the boys asked. “What about that old man?”
“Leave them. They’re dead, aren’t they?”
“We can’t leave Billy!” several protested.
“Then pack him up and bring him along,” Eric said impatiently. “I’ll see you sissies back in camp.” He put the spurs to his horse again and took off down the road, damning every last one of them to hell.