by Gina Danna
The slave led them through a copse of trees. On the other side was another gangly sight of one downed horse and two slumped bodies. The stench was underlying, as the slow decay started. Francois continued scanning the area. One saddled horse but two riders didn’t make sense. Then he heard the shallow moan and Francois shot a glance in the direction it came from. It was to the right, far away. There lay another body, only this one moved. Francois started that way but Ada over reached him, getting there first.
It was a dark-skinned man, wearing a Yankee uniform. Blood ran from his mouth. His eyes had a terrified look and his shirt and waistcoat was in disarray. Francois saw why. He was gut shot and his reaction was similar to many who ripped their clothes to shred, trying to find their wound, fearful it was fatal. Ada shook her head, confirming he was dying as she saw the wound.
“Soldier, Francois Fontaine at your service. What happened?” He opted out of telling the poor soul the secesh were here again, especially since his first rapport with them was fatal.
“Carrying dispatch,” he grinded, before he started to cough up blood. “For…” His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he was gone.
Ada moved the boy’s hat over his eyes and bowed her head to pray. Francois inhaled and waited a minute before he took the boy’s dispatch bag.
“What are you doing?”
He snorted, flipping the opening flap back. “Looking to see what’s in here, of course.” He rummaged through the pages. “To General Schofield, Army of the Ohio.” He raised his brows. “There’s also letters here.” One caught his eye and he pulled it out. It was labeled to Jack.
“Brig Gen Fontaine?” Ada queried. He didn’t realize she was off to his side, veering over his back.
“Yes. My brother.”
“Your brother is in the Union Army?”
“Yes,” he snapped. What the hell was a letter going to Jack out here? Army of the Ohio? The return on the post was his sister’s writing. He’d recognize that curve on their surname anywhere. But why was she writing him and not Emma? The letter was marked three days prior. Finally, curiosity took control of him and he ripped the seal and scanned the letter.
“That isn’t your property to open!” Ada cried but he ignored her.
“…Jack, it’s been worse since you left. Emma hasn’t been herself and then the spring rains have brought on a dire case of the fever. Please, if you can, send us a doctor. With your promotion, surely you can do that, right? The babies are in trouble if it gets to them. And Mama looks like she’s a touch unwell. In my condition, I’m in no state to care for her and the rest. Please help! With love and affection, Cerisa”
A rock fell into his stomach. Yellow fever. Rarely did they get hit with it at Bellefontaine. What had happened?
“What’s wrong?”
He refolded the letter, a scowl on his face. “Illness. That’s my family. My mama is apparently sick. Fever. And my sister writes that most the physicians are at war, meaning only a small handful left. Our family doctor has fallen ill as well, and he isn’t a young man.” Jabbing the walking stick into the ground, he stood, still clutching the bag.
“You can’t take that!”
“Why the hell not? You all up North have no problem taken our what’s ours.”
She gasped. Francois shook his head in disgust. He’d been nursing a wounded heart for too long. First Emma and now this vixen, who had his heart but acted as if it were nothing more than a patient, feeding it when needed but nothing more. To hell with them!
But that silent feud in his head over his heart brought a reality to light. Ada was a physician. She could help.
“You need to return it!”
He frowned at her words. “To who? A dead dispatcher?”
“No, of course not.” She huffed. “I could take it to the Union.”
“On what? Rose can’t be ridden at the moment.”
She growled. That made him want to laugh. But reality was, he needed her help and she deemed the Union more important to get dispatches. He toiled over the idea in his head before he blurted out the solution.
“Look. Edward could, in theory, take these to the nearest authorities – Union or Rebel depends on who he sees first. However, I need help for my mother. Will you help?”
She stopped mid-pace and stared at him. His fiery abolitionist looked perplexed. He’d be taking her into the heart of slavedom on a mercy mission to save his mother’s life. Would she?
How dare he! First, he claimed to love her, then ignored her and now, after illegally opening mail not meant for him, he was begging her to help his slave-owning family! She wanted to scream, but her medical side jumped into the fray.
“You get him to take it to the North, I’ll go help.” Of course, she would, regardless of the mail’s ultimate drop-off. She gulped. She’d argued against the world she was riding into, could she stay quiet enough to help the woman before they drove her out of town on a rail?
Francois took her hands, kissing the back of them. “Merci.”
She wanted more than her hands kissed but she held back the retort and started to look for the mounts these soldiers had. “Where are their horses?”
“I see only one downed horse, so I’d reckon whoever shot them, stole them. But let us see if we can find them.”
As he turned, using a limp to step, which made her insides clench, Edward appeared and in his hands were the ribbons leading back to the two saddled horses behind him. He wore a grin, like a Cheshire cat she imagined, finding the rides.
“Sergeant, for you and the missy. You head on back, get your folk well.” The black man jammed the hat back on his head and grabbed the dispatch bag. To Ada, he said, “Don’t you be worrying about this. I’ll make sure this gets through.”
Francois growled but the tall slave stopped him. “Its what’s to be, sir. You’d never know about your folk if it weren’t for this, but as Miss Ada says, I am free, to the Yankees, so me appearing with news be fine, plus I see about pay.” He winked. “Remember, I’ll be back. Got my wife and young’uns still here.”
“Where are they, so I can check on them too?” Ada asked. If fever was sweeping through Louisiana, no one was safe.
Francois snorted. “Edward lives in my parish, if I gather right?”
“Yes, sir! When I heard you are a Fontaine, figured as much.”
“You know him by his last name?” Ada’s father was the doctor of her town, but she doubted anyone would act as Edward was, like he lived just down the street.
The black man smiled big. The sun gleamed off his baldhead, making him look very jovial. “Everyone in Louisiana knows the Fontaines.”
Chapter 40
“I am to watch over you as a parent over his children; and you know that your general loves you from the depths of his heart.”
—US General George McClellan to his army, March 17, 1862 prior to the Peninsular Campaign
Francois shifted in the saddle again. It’d been an uncomfortable afternoon, after Edward left, laughing his merry way to the northeast while he and Ada had headed further south. He knew she wanted to know about his family, though she hadn’t asked formally—yet. It was coming, but he wouldn’t answer it yet until the tension between them cooled.
He swung around to find her several feet back. “Ada, is something wrong?”
She shook her head. “No, nothing.”
But the yawn she stifled brought the trip closer to home. He’d pushed them for the first two hours, then for a fast click on the last one. At a walk now, the rhythm must have been calm enough for her to ride halfway asleep. Add they hadn’t eaten, thanks to the growl in his stomach, he pulled on the reins making the horse halt with hers not far behind.
She rode up next to him, a frown on her face. “Are you all right? In pain?”
“I’m well, stiff but more from being in the saddle, not my foot.” He laughed and swung out of the saddle, making sure he landed on his better foot though a wince still escaped from his mouth despite him cla
mping it shut. Biting back the curse word, he limped to her and lifted her off the saddle.
“I can get down myself,” she stated, straightening her skirts.
“I am a gentleman, and it is my honor and duty to assist you.” He grinned at her with a wink.
She laughed. “Next time, perhaps you’ll save your strength. Sounds like we are heading into a nightmare.”
“Fever comes yearly,” he mumbled, tying the horses. “But to reach the outer planters means it’s pretty fierce. My mother has had a lot to contend with, so I worry about her. And my sister, Cerisa. If I recall correctly, she was with child.” He pulled the saddles off and tossed her the blankets. “Let me see if I can scare up anything for dinner. Doubtful anything is still in these woods but I’ll double check.” He tipped his hat at her after he checked that the LaMott was still in his leather belt.
For once, she looked strong yet vulnerable, a delicacy all wrapped into a beautiful body, clad in a ragged dark wool dress. His hunger for her was growing stronger while she fretted over a scoundrel that wasn’t worth a pot to piss in. Anger mixed with his desires and so he turned, determined to find a rabbit or something, and prayed his frayed nerves would cool along with his desires.
The fire crackled and added warmth to a night that had chilled, leaving her close to shivering. Perhaps it was exhaustion catching up to her. The remains of the roasting rabbit, the skinny, pathetic creature he’d bagged on his hunt, sat on the bayonet, propped between two sturdy sticks. She chewed the cornbread he’d made, still trying to decide if it was horrible or good.
“You be taking quite a while to tell me if you like tonight’s cooking.”
She giggled. “It certainly is a different fare than I’m used to, that is for sure. Army food is not great but…” she looked at him above her tin cup. “Roasted rabbit and this is certainly unique.”
He laughed. It was a genuine laugh and very invitingly warm. It sparked tingles that spread to her groin and into her breasts, surprising her enough, she was sure she blushed.
“I figured it was worth it to try. You put up with Edward’s cookin’ just fine, though it wasn’t much more.”
“No, but I was used to salted pork fat and hard crackers.” And it was awful, but she’d not tell him that.
“Well, we’re about done with the hardtack, probably need it to chew in the morning. Salt pork be done. In the field, with minimum supplies, you make do,” he replied. “Cornmeal, a little fat and smidgen of water, can make something fine to go with roasted hare.”
“I’ll remember that, next time I find myself in that position.” She looked at him and found him staring at her with dark blue eyes. A heated gaze, one that again set off a flash of lightning through her nerves. Made her bite her bottom lip as she shifted on the stump she sat on, though she couldn’t peel her gaze off him, that was until he put his tin plate down and put dirt on the fire, killing half the flames.
“Can’t leave it burning too long,” he told her. “If either army is nearby, it’ll be a beacon. We don’t want to draw that type of attention.”
She could feel the cold seeping through her clothes already but nodded. “How much farther do we have to go?”
He frowned. “Another day’s ride. We’re in Mississippi, if I figured right. On our descent, we’ll need to skirt around Vicksburg, since it’s now occupied by the Yankees.”
She bit her lip from making a comment on that. With her, she could pass them as Federals—maybe. She cupped her tin cup, trying to trap the warmth the metal had picked up from the dampened fire.
“We’d better get some sleep,” he gritted out, beating his saddle blanket pillow rather fiercely, as if the stiff wool soften any.
Ada still sat her knees bent up under her skirts. She tried to hug them without letting go of her cup. She was saddle sore but her exhaustion couldn’t calm her restless spirit that seemed to scream at full volume. How dare he think he could just upset her entire life, truth or not, and exclaim he loved her yet ignore her like she wasn’t even there! Maybe he heard her heart yelling because he tossed and turned. Good, she snidely thought.
Finally, he turned back to her. “Ada, it’s time to sleep.”
Now, she got angry. Her brows shot up as she quipped, “I see. Now you’re ordering me like I was a slave or worse.”
In a flash, he squinted his eyes as he tossed the blanket aside forcibly, as if he was mad at it, and leaped to his feet in a stance to stomp the three steps to her, even if it was awkward. He reached down, scooped her up and kissed her hard.
Shocked and surprised, she opened her mouth as if to protest, yet wasn’t this what she had wanted?
Francois had had enough. She’d badgered, berated and accused him for way too long on the slavery issue. His gratitude for her saving his life, for re-awakening his heart, for coming with him to save his family and his covering her life with his wasn’t enough for this hell-bound abolitionist who had enough troubles on her own for being involved with a scoundrel and trying to practice medicine in a world that rejected women’s aid. Damn it, she even had him rethinking his home and it was run with slaves and if that was the only. He wanted to growl, especial when his growing desire for her, a need that ate at him, had finally reached the pinnacle of being denied. He’d shut up her whining with a need to groan! So he kissed her and kissed her hard.
Her lips were surprisingly pliant, even opened for him slightly and he took full advantage, delving into her mouth. She tasted too sweet for him to only kiss her once and sit back down. Their meal had been anything but desirable, but she was an ambrosia he couldn’t stay away from. Like a starving man, he devoured her, wrapping his arms around her, with one of his hands inching up to steady her neck and head as he bent her backward in his seduction.
Her body responded to his advances, as her arms snaked around his shoulders, her fingers knocking his hat off, allowing her to comb though his hair. She returned his kisses with equal frenzy, as if her hunger matched his. He tightened his embrace, squashing her breasts between her corset and herself and that he needed to correct. He released her lips long enough to trace down her neckline with his teeth skimming her skin while his fingers pulled all the hair pins he could find out, tossing them the ground as his remaining hand held her steady. When her mane plummeted down her back, the silky strands danced across his skin and he groaned with hunger.
His manhood strained against the fabric that tried to contain it, but the beast inside craved to be freed and to take her. Quickly, he undid the hooks on her bodice closure, instantly thrilled that medical staff didn’t have all the damn buttons that he’d rip off now to get to her. He squeezed in her waist to undo that busk at once, opening the dress down the front. With a gentle tug, he got the bodice peeled back, her arms freed of the sleeves and a gentle but firm yank at the tie at her waist under the dress loosened the petticoats. All it took was to lift her by the waist and all fell to a pool at her feet. He grinned.
She stood before him, looking angelic in a way, clad in a worn white chemise, with her pantalets underneath. With her hair loose, she looked wild and so seductive, his cock throbbed madly.
“You are beautiful,” he murmured. He moved a step closer. It was like Christmas and he wanted his present now!
Ada hadn’t expected his advance, so her senses were at first overwhelmed by him. This tall, dark and ruggedly handsome Creole had scooped her up and kissed her with such intensity, she should’ve been shocked but instead, she nearly melted in his arms. She’d been craving his attention, his affection so badly that she nearly was breathless, yet all she’d gotten was his guarded company. What had happened to change that, she did not care to ask, because the heat he stirred in her was begging for more.
She dug her fingers into his long hair, relishing in the luxury of it as his tongue played with hers. When his lips left hers, to descend down her cheek to her jawline and then down her neck with his teeth skating lightly along the path, sending tingles of excitement racing through her, sh
e nearly came undone. Quickly, she discovered he must have read her mind as his fingers nimbly undid her bodice closure and in one gentle push, weaved through her dress to the ties of her petticoats and unlaced them. Before she knew it, her gown and undergarments shimmied down her hips to puddled on the ground.
“You are beautiful.”
A flush of heat covered her body, her cheeks the hottest of them all. Despite her past with him, even with Rich, at that moment, she could feel the true admiration he had for her. The tent at the apex of his thighs was the other indicator. His voice had seemed gritted, as if he was strained and, in an effort to help him, she stepped out of her fallen fabric straight to him and started to unbutton his waistcoat.
He gave her a wicked smile. “Take care, love.”
Her hips nudged against his cock when she reached up to push his jacket and waistcoat aside. “Oh!”
He winked. She stared into his eyes, hoping he didn’t mean for her to stop and at the color of those sapphire blue orbs, now deep blue like the Union blue, and hooded, she realized he begged her for more. Now, she applied the skills her doctoring had taught her and unfastened his trousers in a blink of an eye, shoving the suspenders out of her way to free his hardness. The silken stiff cock sprang free and into her palm.
Now she gave him a wicked grin. “Perhaps he needs an inspection.”
Francois snorted but didn’t move. That thrilled her, because she knew he didn’t know what she meant. So without giving him another moment, she sank to her knees and licked his swollen head.
He nearly jumped. “Ada…”
But she cut him off by wrapping her lips around the crown and laving his head with her tongue. Her hand closed gently around the rod and slowly she started to rub it up and down. She could hear him gulp as his hips moved with her strokes. With every thrust, she began to lower her lips, taking more and more of him inside her mouth. His skin was as soft as satin but his erection was as hard as metal, pushing deeper and deeper. Before she knew it, he was hitting the back of her throat and her hand had fallen to his scrotum, giving the balls there a slight squeeze when he entered her. He moaned loudly, his hands on her head, fingers through her loosened locks as he took her by the mouth.
