Rebel

by Beverly Jenkins

  Blanche Renay’s blue eyes were saucer-wide.

  Val’s eyes grazed Drake’s before she turned to Oya and said, politely, “Miss Marie, would you show me some blouses, please?”

  Blanche Renay stood, beet red.

  “It would be my pleasure, Miss Lacy,” Oya replied. “This way, please.”

  Blanche stormed out.

  In the end, Val’s first foray into shopping was a good one. Oya had only a few ready-made selections in her size but invited Val into her back room, where she quickly took some measurements and promised to have the additional blouses and skirts made and ready in a week to ten days. Next came the choosing of fabrics and Val impressed the shop owner with her knowledge and sensible choices.

  The purchases were summed up. Val tried not to show her embarrassment when Drake added a large assortment of stockings, shifts, and nightgowns he’d picked out to the list.

  Oya said to him, “You’ve chosen well.”

  He smiled at Val.

  An elderly woman leaning on a cane walked over and said, “Miss Lacy, I’m Millicent Candy.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Candy.”

  Drake said, “Hello, Aunt Millie.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on her pale papery cheek.

  “Miss Lacy, I’ve known your intended since he built his first tree house. In fact, he’s my godson.”

  Val eyed them both with surprise.

  Millicent continued, “You may have heard me laughing when you gave Blanche that outstanding set-down a short while ago.”

  She remembered the cackling. “I did.”

  “I want to thank you for making my day. No one has ever dared challenge her. The way you turned her to stone you might be part Medusa.”

  Val snorted. “I don’t think so, ma’am.”

  “Where’s your home?”

  “New York.”

  “Welcome to New Orleans. Drake, bring her by the house when you can so I can get to know her better.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She smiled at Val. “Nice meeting you, young lady.”

  “Nice meeting you, too.”

  “Goodbye, Oya,” Mrs. Candy said, raising her cane to wave.

  “Bye, Mrs. Candy.”

  As Drake and Val prepared to leave, Val thanked Oya, who replied, “You made my day as well. Your garments will be delivered as soon as they are completed.”

  Thanking her again, they departed.

  After stopping at another shop where she purchased more clothing along with bath salts and hair oils, they placed the wealth of items into the carriage’s back seat and headed home.

  That evening after dinner, they retired to the gazebo to celebrate their love with kisses and caresses that left Val pulsing and breathless and Drake certain he’d never walk again if the wedding night didn’t arrive soon. He wanted her fully, nude and twisting on his bed while he worshipped her, devoured her, and made her climax screaming his name. Until then he was content to have her on his lap with her legs wide, her buttons undone, and her soft sighs rising against the night while he licked and sucked, teased and touched, and hardened further watching her wantonly ride his hand under the pale moonlight.

  “I owe you an apology,” he whispered after she’d come back to earth from the first orgasm of the night. He moved a finger over a bared nipple still hard and damp from his loving. “Sit on the table for me.”

  He saw her confusion. Instead of explaining, he lifted her easily and set her gently down on the tabletop in front of him. Leaning forward, he kissed her and slid his hands beneath her skirt to savor the satin length of her legs and the heated place so wet and warm hidden between them. He raised the skirt to her waist and said softly, “Lie back, cheri.”

  Val had no idea what this was leading up to, but his talented fingers were reigniting her senses and she wanted to know, so she lowered herself to the surface of the table, her hips rising, legs parting in response to his circling invitation.

  He reached up and spread the open halves of her blouse wider, moved a damp finger to a nipple until it pleaded and she uttered a choked groan.

  “Do you like this?” He leaned up and took the bud into his mouth and bit it gently. She replied with a whispered, shaky, “Yes.”

  “You’ll like this even better.”

  He placed a worshipping kiss against the inside of each spread thigh and as the kisses fervently climbed, she shuddered with the heat that hit her like lightning.

  “I should be on my knees for this but you’re at a perfect height. . . .”

  When he licked the bud at the entrance to her core, a strangled scream escaped, and she slapped a hand over her mouth and sat straight up. “What are you doing?”

  He chuckled softly. “You were the one with all the questions about a man being on his knees to make his apology, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, but?” She viewed him in the moonlight with wide eyes.

  “Do you want my apology or not? Lie back and let me pay my penance.”

  Still studying him wondrously, she thought about all the pleasure her lusty pirate had treated her to and that he knew more about her body than she, so she complied.

  For the next few bliss-filled moments, he paid his penance so wickedly and languidly well, the powerful orgasm broke her quickly and she screamed his name loud and long into her hand.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Monday morning, Val greeted Melinda, Eb, and five adults who couldn’t make the classes set for Tuesdays and Thursday evenings, along with ten of the twenty-five children who’d registered initially, and ten parents. Melinda asked to take on the children, so that left Val to teach the adults. Inside the classroom she was telling the students about herself when a young man arrived carrying an elderly woman. Val guessed him to be in his mid-twenties. He set the thin gray-haired lady gently down on the end of the bench and said, “Sorry for being late. My name is Micah Green, and this is my granny, Miss Delia.”

  “No need to apologize,” Val said kindly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  The old woman stared with wet unfocused eyes and Val realized she was blind. Miss Delia said in a strong voice, “What’s your name, young woman?”

  The full voice was such a contrast to her frail body, Val was caught off guard for a moment. “Valinda Lacy.”

  “You don’t mind me being here, do you?”

  “No, but I’m not trained to teach someone with your condition.”

  “That’s okay. Not here to learn. I’m just here because I can be. Spent all my life wanting to read. Figured it must hold power if the masters didn’t want us to learn how. When my grandson told me there was a school being taught by a pretty little Colored lady, I told him I wanted to come. So, don’t mind me, Miss Lacy. You teach. I’ll sit here and listen to you, and enjoy the other folks getting to learn.”

  Wiping at the tears stinging her eyes, Val began the first day of class.

  It was a long week filled with laughing children guided by Melinda and sometimes-frustrated adults in Val’s class who found the introduction to the letters and the sounds difficult. Miss Delia came every day. According to her grandson, Micah, she was well into her eighties, had been enslaved since birth on a plantation west of the city, and had vowed to live long enough to walk free. Val found her to be the most inspiring individual she’d ever met. Drake was impressed by her as well. When Val learned that Micah was carrying his grandmother a mile and a half each day on his back, Drake immediately purchased the young man a wagon and a team to make it easier for them to get around.

  By Friday evening, Val was exhausted but happy that her dream of teaching had finally taken root. She had a full roster of students, an assistant teacher, and, tomorrow afternoon, she’d be marrying the man she loved.

  Dressed in a formal black suit, Drake waited at the bottom of the stairs for his bride. He’d never imagined his wedding day, and certainly never imagined playing groom in a situation that began as a ruse. The ceremony would be witnessed by the family only. Later,
Julianna would throw open the doors to the people she’d invited. Never one for large social events, he prayed it didn’t include everyone in the state.

  And then, there she was, beautiful as a sunrise. Sable was behind her, but Drake barely registered her presence. Valinda’s sweeping gold gown with its low-cut décolletage accented by a thin line of a paler silk tastefully showed off the sensual lines of her bodice and throat. Her hair was up, face accented by a touch of paint, and he had difficulty breathing.

  Beside him, Rai said, “Breathe, brother. If I’m captivated by her, I know you must be inches from keeling over.”

  He was right. As she seemed to float down the stairs, eyes locked with his, he was glad they were no longer pretending to be love-matched. Their match was true, and all he wanted to do was sweep her up into his arms and retire to someplace private, to hell with the guests.

  She stopped before him and she was all he could see. “You look very beautiful, cheri.”

  “Thank you,” she replied with what sounded like a touch of nervousness.

  “I have something for you.” Unable to take his eyes from her, he reached into the pocket of his coat and removed the thin black box.

  She gave him a curious look.

  “Turn around, please.”

  She did, and he draped the ornate gold necklace around her neck and hooked the clasp. She fingered it and walked over to the large mirror above the mantel. Her eyes showed her shock. “Where did you get this?”

  The necklace with its alternating stylized leaves and delicate posts that supported tiny beautifully formed rosettes had been in the family for some time. “Mama has a trove of family jewelry, and each son gets to pick a piece for our bride on our wedding day. I chose that.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “It pales in comparison to the woman wearing it.” He walked over and stood behind her. Her eyes held his in the mirror. He placed a soft kiss on the lovely curve of her bare shoulder and felt the delicate tremor that rippled over her in response. “The others are waiting for us at the gazebo. Shall we go get married?”

  She nodded.

  He gallantly offered his arm and escorted her out.

  While Henri’s nephew read the words of the ceremony Val stood beside Drake. She couldn’t stop shaking. Still reeling from the ornate necklace, the expensive gown, and the gold-and-diamond-accented studs Julianna had given her earlier, it was as if she’d awakened this morning and stepped into some other woman’s life. Surely this couldn’t be her own. It was, however, and as she and Drake were pronounced man and wife, the kiss he placed on her lips left her reeling as well. He drew back but not before whispering, “There’ll be more to come, later.”

  Her body caught fire.

  And it stayed lit for the rest of the afternoon, and as the reception guests arrived, into the evening. Each time his eyes met hers, she felt stroked by his hand. Her nipples tightened, her thighs grew warm. It didn’t matter if he was across the room or standing next to her while Julianna introduced them to people whose names she’d never remember, thoughts of the pleasure toyed with her lustfully. She longed for the festivities to end because she wanted Drake LeVeq—the sooner the better.

  As the evening finally wound down, guests offered the newlyweds their congratulations and departed. Soon, only family remained. Drake, standing beside her, asked, “Are you ready to go up?”

  She didn’t lie. “I am.”

  He slid a knuckle over her cheek. “Anything in particular you’d like to do once we get there?”

  “Bed games?” she asked.

  He gave her his pirate grin.

  After the reception, Julianna and Henri would be leaving for a ten-day trip to Cuba to visit relatives, so Drake and Val could have the house to themselves. Because Val’s school had just begun, there’d be no honeymoon for the newlyweds but they planned to enjoy their time together as man and wife.

  They shared hugs and goodbyes with their family members then climbed the stairs to Drake’s suite of rooms. He wished he had a house to take his bride home to but knowing he would eventually left him content.

  Upstairs, the quiet inside his room was a balm to the noise and commotion they’d dealt with all day and Val slumped tiredly into one of the chairs. Reba had left them a small buffet of food both savory and sweet, proving herself the blessing the House of LeVeq considered her to be. Drake removed his suit coat and tie and rolled up his sleeves. He walked to the terrace doors, opened them wide, and let in the cooling air of the evening. That done he settled himself on the arm of Val’s chair, leaned down, and kissed her softly. “Thanks for agreeing to be my wife.”

  “Thank you for agreeing to be my husband.”

  That kiss led to another and another, and with each one that followed, passion burned bright. Soon, her dress was gone and gently set aside, and she was standing in the center of the room wearing only one of her new shifts, stockings, jewel-encrusted garters, and fancy heeled shoes. Drake asked in a voice tinged with confusion, “Where are your drawers?”

  “In the armoire,” she replied, showing him a sultry smile.

  “You been walking around all day bare beneath your gown?”

  “Pirate wives are allowed to do that.”

  “Get on the bed, Mrs. Pirate, so I can teach you a lesson about withholding secrets . . .”

  She made an equally sultry stroll over to the bed, that hardened him instantly while he removed his shirt before joining her there.

  And he taught her well, especially once she was slowly stripped nude. Dazzled by her beauty under the light of the lone lamp beside the bed, he took in the small high breasts with their gem-hard mahogany tips, the beckoning curve of her shoulders, the tempting flat plane of her torso, and the sweep of her lovely legs he could barely wait to feel wrapped around him for the first time. However, he had to make certain she was ready. He was a big man, she was a small chocolate drop of a woman. He needed to go about this final lesson with care because he didn’t want her carnal introduction to be filled with pain.

  So he began again, worshipping her tenderly. He loved the way her nipples responded to the flirting wickedness of his mouth and tongue, the way she crooned as he turned his attention to the scented skin below, and how seductively she arched when his fingers plied the responsive little bud at the apex of her thighs. Unable to resist, he lazily flicked his tongue against it, then gently sucked it in. Her cries of pleasure filled him like an expensive French aphrodisiac and he knew if he didn’t have her soon, he’d explode. So, he left his harshly breathing, slowly twisting wife to rid himself of his trousers, short drawers, and socks.

  Val never knew a nude man could be so beautiful, the ebony sculpted shoulders and arms, the muscled chest dusted with furred hair. She took in the button-flat nipples, his trim waist. Her eyes lowered, then fled to the more calming opened terrace doors. She moved them back but settled them high on the wry smile curving his lips.

  “Men and women are just constructed differently, cheri.”

  He climbed back onto the bed and settled himself above her and looked down into her uncertain eyes. “We’ll go slowly. Promise.”

  She gave him a quick tight nod, all the while wondering how in the world he’d fit, but she was soon distracted as he began making love to her and she had her first opportunity to relish how wonderfully warm his nude and powerful arms and chest felt under her exploring hands.

  He entered her then, slowly, carefully, stopping along the way to let her body stretch and adjust. He coaxed and teased, kept her nipples hard with kisses and tugs, all the while advancing forward. “You can take all of me,” he reassured her, gently. “There’s no rush.”

  When he finally pushed past the barrier, the discomfort became acute, but he stilled as if to let her accustom herself to his size and girth. Only then did the lazy stroking begin. The pain soon dissipated and the bright pleasure that had flowed so lavishly before returned, but not from his hands and lips, but from the radiant bliss between her thighs.
Catching fire from his rhythm her hips rose to greet him. Holding his considerable weight above her, he invited her to join him in love’s version of call and response. The pace increased, she wrapped her legs around his body and heard his pleased growl.

  Drake didn’t know how much longer he could wait. She was so hot, so tight. He fought to remember her small stature, that this was her first time, but she was matching him stroke for stroke and his orgasm was rising. A few strokes later, she came, calling his name. He broke in her wake, giving her his heart and soul until he was spent. Not wanting to crush her, he gently turned her over and held her atop him until he could breathe and see normally again.

  He ran a loving hand down the perspiration dewing her spine. “How was that?” he asked.

  She raised up and smiled. “Can we do it again?”

  He laughed, squeezed her hip lovingly, and said, “You really are a pirate’s wife.”

  So, they made love a few more times and her body grew better at welcoming and sheltering him. When they were finally done, he carried her into the bathing room so they could wash and soak. The soiled sheets were stripped from the bed and replaced by fresh clean ones. Sated finally, they slept for the first time as man and wife.

  After last night’s loving, Val was a bit sore but not enough to miss settling into the gazebo for a nice leisurely Sunday morning breakfast with Drake. While his plate held enough to feed everyone at her school, hers showed the small stack of flapjacks Reba had prepared. They were partially through the meal when she reappeared. Behind her was Val’s father, and Val was so caught by surprise, she dropped her fork. Not surprising however was the anger clouding his face. “Hello, Father.”

  He took in Drake and asked sharply, “Who’s this?”

  “My husband, Drake LeVeq. Drake, my father, Harrison Lacy.”

  “Get your things, you’re coming with me.”

  Val saw a coolness settle over Drake’s demeanor.

  Her father snapped. “Now, Valinda.”

  “Have you eaten?” she asked, hoping to deflate the situation.

  “Don’t be flippant with me. Get your belongings or you’ll leave without them.”