by Gina Danna
“Ada!” Her ears pounded as her blood raced, so much so that Will’s call fell on deaf ears. Who the hell was she?
Chapter 28
“It was amusing to see him—the Commander-in-Chief—whittling away with his knife upon the bark of a tree, pausing now and then to throw in a word or sentence in the conversation of those grouped about, and then going to work again with renewed vigor upon the incision of the pine.”
—Observer in Union General US Grant’s camp
Battle of the Wilderness 1864
Francois looked up in surprise. “Jaquita? Oh, mon dieu! Tres grand!”
He wrapped her in his arms and spun on his good heel with her giggling.
“Now, Francois, put me down!”
He set her down, letting his hands skim down her arms till they reached her hands. “It is so good to see you! I had no idea you were still here.”
“I live here, you fool.” She straightened her skirt.
He couldn’t contain how happy he was to see her. Eying her over, he stood back a step so he could take in all. She was just a few inches shorter than him. Her black hair was pulled back, braided and curled with pearl drops hanging from her earlobes. The yellow gown that draped her slim body was decorated with ecru lace and red roses. Her lovely blue-brown gaze sparkled with the same excitement he felt and her lips curled upward.
“So, do I pass inspection?”
“Yes, my dear, as always, you are pretty.”
“Hah! You tell Cerisa the same, no doubt.” She pouted.
That made him laugh. “What can I say? Shall we dance?”
He did his best to sway her on the dance floor. Subtly, he was aware of the stares, but he decided it was because of her beauty and not because a white man was dancing with an ebony lady.
There was a minor flurry near them. A vision of blue came into view right as he slowly turned Jaquita on a turn and had to stop because of it. Thankfully, they were near the edge of the dance floor, because the look on Ada’s face wasn’t happiness. The man behind her, that other surgeon, Dr. Leonard, if he recalled correctly, appeared slightly amused before he saw Francois shoot him a glare.
“Miss Lorrance, you constantly amaze me this evening,” he said since she was breathing too hard to speak right away about interrupting them. “What boldness for even a doctor at a social event from a lady who didn’t want to attend.”
“May I ask who is she?” Ada blurted out.
Francois’s eyes widened. She was jealous?
“This is Miss Jaquita Fontaine—”
“McHenry, my dear. Mrs. McHenry.”
“Oh, yes, indeed. You had not informed me, darling,” he replied back.
“I hadn’t had the chance…’
“Fontaine?” Ada narrowed her eyes. “A former slave?”
“Oh, dear, you didn’t tell her, I see,” Jaquita said softly. “I am his sister.”
Francois saw the color drain from the doctor’s face. “Ada?” He and Leonard both reached for her before she collapsed.
Sister? That black girl? Well, she wasn’t really all that black…
Ada’s thoughts whirled so fast in her head, she feared she’d faint. They escorted her to the side, to a small sitting area, away from the bulk of the crowd. Many of the southern slave-owners raped their slaves, Ada’d heard it from the runaways. But this lady, looking so elegant and graceful, with the most stunning bluish eyes, looked anything but a runaway or one fearing being sent back to the South enslaved. No, she held an air of importance, which Ada understood.
“Ada, here.”
Will handed her a glass, but she didn’t think champagne was needed. “No, I am fine.” She looked at the other two. “Would you care to explain?”
The woman laughed while Francois sighed. “Jaquita is my sister of the same father. She chose to move north.”
“Understandably,” she argued back. “You two look somewhat alike.”
Jaquita openly laughed. “Yes, Momma Fontaine didn’t take a likin’ to that too much, right Francois?”
He shook his head. “Not particularly. Look, our father made sure Jaquita has no worries—”
“I am familiar with who she is,” Ada snarled back. “She’s a major organizer for the Albany Abolitionists Society.”
Francois gave his sister a glance. She shrugged.
“Darling, are you all right?” Another man suddenly appeared. Instantly Ada recognized him too.
“Yes, my dear. Just discussing family business,” Jaquita murmured, looping her hand on the man’s coat sleeve. “Francois, may I introduce my husband, Senator Thomas McHenry III.”
“Tom,” McHenry corrected, extending his hand to Francois. “I have heard all about the Fontaines. Good to meet you. Surprised to see you up North, unless you’re like your brother Jack.”
Francois snorted. Jaquita’s husband was a politician as well as a big boned man, with Grecian-defined facial features, the sort that could take control easily and all would follow.
“No, I’m a good Louisiana boy, born and raised down there. Fighting to keep the Yanks from imposing their will on us.” And on that, he winked.
Ada’s heart was in her throat. Now was not the time for political debate! She cleared her throat. “I apologize for interrupting your dance. Just worried that Francois’s foot might be needing him to take a rest.”
The senator nodded, and she took that as he agreed with her on turning them away from a possible sectional discussion. “Yes, this is holiday time. Rather rude to discuss the situation when we’re here not to do so. Jaquita, darling, we should retire.”
With a slight hesitation, as if wanting not to leave, she gave her hand to his, but she did lean toward Francois. “Papa wrote. I hear Cerisa was here?”
“Yes, for a while apparently. With Abraham, too.”
“Wish she had contacted me.”
“Mrs. McHenry? We had no word of your marriage,” he nudged her with a brotherly familiarity that Ada was surprised over. “Plus she didn’t bother to inform us, either, of where she was.”
“Considering the circumstances Jack told me of, it’s not a surprise.”
“When did you talk to Jack?”
“Francois, I hear from him periodically.” She stood, pulled toward her husband. “All right,” she gave and turned to leave, adding over her shoulder, “We should talk later. Good night!”
He nodded toward her. As he watched her walk away, he realized how much he had missed her. Out of all the staff at his family’s estate, Jaquita had been part of the family. Her presence wasn’t a surprise throughout the South, he thought. Many mulattos, fathered by the white owners, were raised with the white family’s children, but his father acknowledged Jaquita as his, despite Francois’s mother’s dismay. Educated together, they all knew each other, so when Jaquita wanted to stay in New York that one summer, prior to the current unpleasantness, Pierre Fontaine did not deny her. So that’d make it six years and apparently, she’d done quite well, he decided.
It was then he heard the faint tapping next to him. Ada. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. He wasn’t ready to disclose his family’s secret to her, of all people. Slowly, he opened his eyes and gave her his attention. He wasn’t ready for the glare of the devil. Oh, bloody hell!
Ada stood, confused, angry and speechless. His sister was a mulatto? Jaquita McHenry? What else was he hiding?
“Ada, please, your mood will attract unwanted attention.” Will warned her. Nothing new on that, as he always seemed to be trying to protect her. It was annoyingly unattractive. She stopped tapping the floor.
“So Mrs. McHenry is your sister?” It still made her insides twist. The irony was overwhelming.
“Yes,” he muttered, leaning on the cane as he stood. “You can’t tell me you don’t see the resemblance.”
So did half the room, she reckoned. “That is beside the point. Do you know what she does?”
“She’s a wife to a politician,” he shrugged. “I do not
know him. Heavens above, I wasn’t aware she married!”
This was not a laughing matter. “She’s one of the main supporters for New York’s abolitionist movement.”
He raised his eyebrows and smiled broadly. “Yes, you did state that. No doubt she would be. Always was ready for the fight.” And he laughed again.
Ada fumed. He was making light on a serious matter! “How—”
“My, oh my,” Will interjected with a yawn. “I think it’s been one top rate night! I’m exhausted. Aren’t you?”
Francois didn’t break eye contact with her but replied, “Yes. As always, my injury reminds me it is here.”
“Good then. Let us bid our adieus and leave.” Will turned toward Ada. “Am I not right, doctor?”
She snarled. Whenever he used her title, it was useless to argue with him. “No, of course. Our patient needs his rest.”
But as they made their way to the hostess, Ada quelled the insane desire to slap them both.
The carriage ride home was a wall of silence. Francois shifted in the seat across from Ada, finding her anger gave her an intense look as she worked to appear indifferent, staring out the window into the darkness. But she still breathed heavily, the valley hinted at between the mounds at her chest, still heaved, stirring his passion in the most vexing way. She was mad, which floored him, that his half-sister was such an influential person. What were her grounds? He had no control over who his father sired. Was he to remain white trash in her eyes? Or given any credit to his background? And what had happened to that other surgeon? Dr. Leonard had disappeared after they bid farewell to Amelia, apologizing for having to leave.
It was obvious he was going to have to do something to appease this woman, or she could turn him over to the authorities as a rebel and a prisoner of war.
As the carriage pulled up to the house, she lit out of it as quickly as the coachman opened the door and offered her his hand to disembark. Even in her long gown, she was quicker than Francois could even attempt to be, in his debilitated state. As he hobbled up the stairs, cursing in his head at the pain riveting up his calf, he made it to the door and inside, scanning for where she was.
“She went to her room, sir.”
“Thank you, James.” This crafty servant seemed to not only appear without warning, he also read minds—a skill equal to Fanny back home, a trick he appreciated and despised at the same time. Gripping the railing, Francois nodded at the servant and stumbled up the stairs.
The door to Ada’s room appeared closed but when he went to tap on it, the door wasn’t latched and swung open for him. Inside, he found her sitting at the dressing table, Katie the maid, unraveling the pinned-up curls of her hair. Her gaze seemed locked on the looking glass in front of her, not even flinching when the door opened. Katie didn’t stop her work, though she did glance his way for a second.
“Ada,” he called softly, but at the sound of his voice, her shoulders tightened.
“It appears, sir, that protocol is lost on you. The door was shut and I seek no conversation with you.”
She was still mad, which confused him. How had their closeness evaporated that quickly? All due to his half sister Jaquita? That made no sense. He nodded to Katie, prodding her to leave. Without a word to her mistress, the maid put down the brush and scurried out of the room.
With half her mane falling down her shoulders and two locks remaining pinned high, Francois ambled up to finish the maid’s job.
“I can do that,” she stated flatly.
“I am well aware of that,” he replied, pulling one of the last pearled cap pins out. “But why not let me, since I am here?” He pulled the other curl loose.
She stiffened. “I’d prefer it if you did not.”
“Hmmmm…” He ran his fingers through her dark blonde locks, working the tangled curls free of the bonds in which they’d been held, twisted up for the cascading styling she’d worn. The strands felt like silk to his touch and he relished it in. Then, as he pulled it all back to drape down her back, he bent and kissed her bare neckline.
He felt her tremble. Pleased at that, he also knew a bolt of lightning shot through his veins, igniting a fire below that had been burning embers since their night together.
“Please stop.”
He ran the tip of his tongue down her neckline, to her shoulders and then back, taking a nip at her neck. “No.”
She melted at his touch, or so he chose to believe as the tenseness vacated those tight shoulders. He’d swore if he looked up, her eyes would be closed. Satisfied, he kissed back up her neck and when he reached her earlobe, he pulled back a tad and let his fingers free her ears of the dangling pearl earbobs. Again, she shuddered.
“I think you’ve done this before,” she mumbled.
“Hmmmm, what?” He untied the fiche lace bow in the back before he started on the bodice lacings.
“How to undress a lady.”
That made him smile. “I might know a thing or two.”
She leaned back, as if melding to his body. As he pushed the now unlaced bodice forward, to peel it from her body, she straightened, locking her arms in a way that stopped him.
“No, I can’t let you do this.”
Puzzled, he tried again. “Do what? Make love to you?”
“No.” She wrangled out of his reach, turning to face him while clutching the bodice to her form. “You made quite a scene tonight. And we left way too early. Tongues will wag.”
He inhaled, trying to keep control of his passion, which had started to spiral out of control. Even now every part of him turned uncomfortable as his member throbbed, hard and pulsing.
“I danced. You danced. All rules were followed. You coming out onto the dance floor to accuse me of some infraction can easily be interpreted otherwise, since you tell me Jaquita is so well known in the abolitionist world. You, no doubt, were dying to meet her.” He winked, hoping that’d curtail her withdrawal from him. “Plus, Dr. Leonard left with us. So, we are not the only ones.”
Her gaze flickered, her lips tightened and her breathing deepened. “I just don’t know, Francois.”
She’d called him by his name. That hit a chord in him, telling him she was slowly responding to him.
“You truly can’t be that mad at me,” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips feathering hers, then plunging down her neckline to her chest while his hands sneaked behind her back, taking the open flaps back into his hands and gently bringing them forward. “She’s my sister, after all, not another woman who’d take me from you.”
She moaned as the bodice fell from her body, exposing herself a little more, down to her corset and chemise. He’d won! But apparently, that was only for a moment.
“I can’t do this.” She cleared her throat, though he saw how she left her bodice off. “My affections go to another man.”
“Dr. Leonard?”
“Oh, heavens, no! No!” She smiled, a blush to her cheeks as she turned, pacing. “Another doctor, though. One in the field.”
“A husband?” Shocked she didn’t say something before.
“Oh, no, well, not yet.”
He paced, feeling slightly thwarted. But her tone suggested she wasn’t happy about this, so perhaps this man had jilted her in a way. Taking the initiative, he took her hand and squeezed it tight.
“He may not be here and may never be. The war could take him, or he may not be true to you. The warfront changes a man.” He paused. “I know I’ve changed. He could too. So be with me, here and now. We may not have tomorrow.”
And on that note, he pulled her to him and kissed her hard.
All the thoughts in her head jumbled when he kissed her. It was his touch that unnerved her so. She wanted him and despised him, all in the same breath. He was the enemy, fought for a life of sin, destroying people. He was a southerner, true in every way to their rebel ways, but when he touched her, when he murmured sweet nothings into her ear, she melted. She wanted his kiss, wanted to dance with him and curl up in his arms
. Oh, how she had turned so wicked!
On that thought, she gave in. When he wrapped his arms around her, she snaked hers around his neck, molding her body against his. Despite the metal stays of the corset, she adhered to him, relishing in the warmth of his body, the hardness of his chest, the rock-feeling of his torso and knew the bulge that pushed against her skirts was his desire for her. The excitement made her mewl in his mouth, despite their tongues dancing madly.
He growled, low and hungry sounding. Before she knew it, he had untied the corset strings and the skirt hooks. It took a tight squeeze around her waist to pop the busk on the corset, opening it all the way as the skirt and petticoats shimmied to the floor in a puddle around her feet. A cool breeze at being so exposed, despite the chemise, pantalets and stockings, her body was peeled of the shell she’d been covered in. Immediately, it fed her desires and she hunted for the buttons on his waistcoat and shirt beneath, after she’d pushed the frock coat off him, trying to never take her lips off his.
The frantic race to undress him matched him unclothing her. Thankfully, her bed wasn’t far from the dressing table and before she knew it, he’d pulled her down to the mattress, yanking the last of her undergarments off her. She thrilled as he shed the rest of his but he was suddenly stopped when she wrapped her hand around his hardened member. With a smile, she slowly stroked his manhood, watching his eyes turn dark blue to black with the need for her. And she knew the moment he touched her, she was soaking, her core begging for him.
No more words were said. They slowed down as he pushed her back to the mattress and placed himself between her thighs. He gave her a lopsided grin as he bent over and slid right into her. She swallowed hard, tipping her hips up to take him fully inside her, rocking to his every thrust.
All thoughts of anyone else fled her mind when her world shattered.
