by Loves Wine
Gathering her wits about her, she went to the kitchen and asked one of the cooks to make a pot of very strong coffee, several cups of which she consumed heartily. She felt better afterward.
Never had the hours passed so slowly or more miserably. Damn Scott Colter, she cursed silently, and damn herself for caring so much about him. Damn everything! If this was love, she wanted nothing to do with it. The pain was too deep to be endured.
All evening, everywhere she went, Roger was there, offering champagne or wine. She declined most of the time. She desired only one thing, to be alone with her misery. To think about the only thing that mattered. Scott. He was gone. And he had left thinking she was angry.
Suddenly, she realized she had never felt more alone in her entire life.
Roger appeared toward the end of the party, seemingly out of nowhere, and cried, “Ah, there you are!” He was holding out yet another crystal glass filled with bubbling, sparkling champagne. “My God but you look exhausted. Here. You are going to drink this, Holly, and then you’re going to your room to rest. No one expects you to run around here and act like a hostess after all you’ve been through these past few days. Drink.” He thrust the glass at her and she took it and drank. He was right. She was weak, and tired of forcing a smile all the time. “Thank you,” she murmured, handing him the empty glass and brushing by him. “I am going to sleep, Roger. The guests can entertain themselves now. As far as I’m concerned, the party is over.”
He watched her glide gracefully up the stairs. No, he told her silently, the party was not over. It was only just beginning.
Roger dismissed the servants as soon as the last guest departed, loudly congratulating them on doing such a wonderful job. The clean-up tasks could wait until morning, he said. He even gave them a case of leftover champagne, sending them happily on their way, knowing that within a short while they’d all be drunk or sleeping.
At last, the house was empty. He extinguished the lights and candles, and went to his room, where he changed into silk pajamas and a maroon silk robe. He turned back the covers of his bed, and opened a bottle of chilled champagne, pouring into it the rest of the powder he’d given Holly earlier. He glanced in the mirror and smoothed back his hair, smiling. The house was empty and the night, by God, was his.
He hurried to Holly’s room and was pleased to find her lying across her bed, fast asleep, as he’d hoped he would. He carried her back to his room. She stirred only slightly as he laid her on his bed. He removed her clothing, cursing silently at all the stays and complicated fastenings. As more and more of her was exposed, his breath grew harsher, hotter, and he slowed his progress to savor every moment. Her breasts exposed, he kissed each nipple, delighting at the hardness he aroused. Berries, rich red berries. It was only with the greatest of self-control that he restrained from spreading her thighs and plunging deep inside. He commanded himself to take his time, enjoy every touch, every vision.
She stirred, moaned softly, and he reached for the glass of champagne and held it to her lips. She coughed, flung her head from side to side, and the liquid spilled down onto her breasts, but she did not awaken.
He chuckled. It would be nice to feel her response to his lovemaking, but there would be time for that in the future. His desire was getting the best of him. He would wait no longer.
Removing the last of her silky undergarments, his eyes raked over her naked flesh.
A voice called his name from outside the window and Roger cursed. He stomped angrily across the floor to the window. “What in the blue-blazed hell do you want?”
Barney jerked back, surprised. “I need to talk to you,” he called. Resentfully, he added, “You said if I was ever in doubt, to ask you, so don’t bite my head off just ’cause you got woke up. I don’t like being up all night either.”
“You ninny,” Roger growled. “I’m not alone up here. Understand? Whatever it is can wait till morning.”
Barney’s temper was rising, matching Roger’s. “It ain’t gonna wait till morning. It’s time we got things settled. There’ll be time for fuckin’ later,” he added insolently. “You come down now or I’m comin’ up.”
“Son of a bitch,” Roger hissed, infuriated. “I’ll be down.” He tightened the belt on his robe and hurried downstairs.
Jerking the back door open, he found Barney leaning against the house, nonchalantly picking his teeth and eyeing Roger coldly. “Well? What’s so important?” Roger snapped, a little wary.
Barney took a moment to answer.
“We had a talk tonight, all of us, and we don’t like your orders about takin’ the gold out a little bit at a time. The girl ain’t around to see us now, and we want to get it all now—and get the hell out of here. We’re tired of screwin’ around.”
Roger’s eyes narrowed with fury. “You fool! You know damn well I don’t want the men all paid off at one time. I told you to take care of the potential troublemakers, the most restless ones first, get them out of the way and take care of the others later. I don’t need a bunch of rich idiots running around blowing their money and causing talk. I told you that from the beginning.”
Barney Phillips did not wither before the angry challenge. He squared his shoulders and continued staring at Roger. “You ain’t listenin’. All the men are restless, including me. What’s stoppin’ us? The girl’s burned out. We ain’t got no spies, ’cause I slit that guy’s throat. Colter’s gone. Your daddy’s on his honeymoon. Them nosey niggers is dead. There ain’t no reason to wait. So”—he paused—“we ain’t goin’ to wait no more. I come to tell you that if you want to be there for the big dig, you better come on.”
“Damn you, Phillips! You’re pushing too far.” Roger wished he were not standing there in a silk robe, and he longed for the derringer he always kept inside his jacket. It made him feel secure. Now all he had was bluster. “There will be no dig tonight. That is my order, and I expect you to see it’s carried out.”
Barney laughed. “Sorry, boss, I’m on their side. Oh, you ain’t got to worry about gettin’ cheated. Nobody gets more’n what they’ve got coming to ’em, what was agreed on. You just tell me where you want your share put. You can trust us.”
Roger had known all along the men wouldn’t just take the gold and run. How could they, without his ship? Besides, they were scared of him. They knew he could find any of them.
He lunged for Barney, shoving him hard against the wall. “Goddamnit, leave mine where it is. If you can no longer control your greed, so be it. I’m probably better off without you. But nothing happens till tomorrow night, you hear me? I’ve got other plans. Tomorrow. Just one more day. Understand?” Roger released him and stood back, awed by his own bravery. Physical confrontations were not his forte, and he always hired someone else to do any dirty work that came along. Barney Phillips could crush him with one blow, and they both knew it. He’d surprised himself, but it was a good feeling.
Barney peered at Roger, pondering. He finally decided that one more night wouldn’t matter. “All right. I’ll tell everybody to hold off.”
Roger stepped back and nodded. “Good. You’ll all see that I’m right. We must be cautious. Tomorrow you can arrange a meeting for all of us, and we’ll set a time for the final dig.”
They parted, and as Roger stepped inside, he hesitated. He had depended on Barney for sometime. It wasn’t a good idea to suddenly have this hostility between them. He went quickly back outside and called to him.
In the shadows Barney turned and waited as his boss hurried toward him.
“There’s something I should say,” Roger began slowly, then allowed his words to spill out in a torrent. “I’m going to need a good man, a right-hand man—a bodyguard, I suppose you could say. I’d like you to be that man. I’m asking you not to go back to wherever you came from. I’ll pay you well. Will you think about it?”
Barney thought only fleetingly about the skinny, nagging wife he’d left in Pennsylvania. He did allow himself a full fifteen or twenty seconds of
guilt over the two sons and a daughter he’d be deserting. But what the hell? He was lucky to be alive after the goddamn war, and he deserved to live a little, not die slowly behind a plow. He reached out and grasped Roger Bonham’s hand, pumped it up and down. “You got yourself a man. You won’t be disappointed.”
“Good.” Roger nodded but didn’t permit himself a smile. It would take some doing to keep this big idiot in line. “Don’t say anything to the others. They would resent it. As soon as they’re paid off and everything is settled, you can move in here.”
Roger went back inside, furious over the interruption.
Holly was still fast asleep—and still nude. Gingerly, he touched her breasts. He preferred larger, but hers were beautifully molded and rounded. Her waist was tiny, and her hips and thighs tapered to long, gentle lines. Yes, she was a rare beauty. He would be the envy of every man, having such a lovely wife. After he had broken her spirit, taught her ways to please him, then she would truly delight him.
He shucked off his robe and stretched out beside her. Turning sideways, he gazed at her, marveling at her nearness, the warm, sweet scent of her. He was too enraptured to be alarmed when her eyes opened.
The sight of Roger Bonham’s face leering down at her, so close, lips parted, birthed a wave of terror and she screamed one long, reverberating scream.
“No, no, dearest,” he protested, pushing her back down on the bed firmly as she tried to rise. “You want me as much as I want you. You know you do. Don’t fight. Give, my sweet, give to me as I give to you.”
Holly came to life then, a driving desperation bringing her out of the drugged stupor. She twisted away, her nails raking painfully down his face. “Damn you!”
Her voice was thick, struggling through the great, swirling cloud of nepenthe. “Have you gone insane? Leave me alone.”
Roger was enjoying himself despite her indignant shrieks. He placed one hand over her face to stifle her, and twisted her arms behind her back. “Enjoy me, my sweet. You came to my bed, begging me to love you. Don’t play tricks on me now, Holly. You asked for me, and you shall have all of me.”
Her insides churned with revulsion. He had to be lying. Never would she have come to his bed, never. She opened her mouth to say so, to ask why she was naked, but he pressed his mouth against hers, stilling her.
After a long kiss, he placed his hand over her mouth. “You surprise me, Holly. I knew how I felt about you for a long time, but I was afraid you didn’t return my love. Now I know you do.” He kissed her forehead. “It’s wonderful. We’ll be married at once, of course. I had wanted to court you properly, give you a lovely wedding, but under the circumstances, I think it best that we forgo formalities.”
He removed his hand and she sat up, blood raging through her like the angry waters of a river. “You can go to hell. I’ll never marry you, Roger Bonham. I didn’t even like you before this, but now you’ve made me hate you.”
She started to move off the bed, but he grabbed her. “Holly, oh, dear Holly, listen to me. I know you’re upset. You’re a lady and you’re afraid I’ll think less of you now. You came to my bed, and now you’re feeling guilty, but you shouldn’t feel that way. I’m trying to explain that I wanted to marry you before this anyway. You see? I’m not proposing out of a sense of honor. If I didn’t love you, I’d just cast you aside. But I love you.”
He tried to kiss her, but she jerked her head away. And then suddenly, he abruptly released her and turned away from her. She stared at him. What in heaven’s name did he have to be angry about? Amazed, she watched him get up and reach for his robe. “Get out,” he said. “It sickens me to have my respect for you trampled. I thought you loved me. I didn’t know you were just seeking pleasure, like…like a trollop.” His eyes swept over her with a mixture of disgust and pain. “I can’t believe it. I placed you on a pedestal and look what you’ve done to me.”
Never in her entire life had she been so confused. Surely to God, he was lying, had to be. “I don’t…understand, Roger. You’re lying.”
“Lying?” He seemed terribly hurt. “Oh, my darling, I would never do anything to hurt you. Had I known you were so drunk, I never would have touched you. I thought you loved me, as I loved you.”
As she began to speak, they heard a man’s voice in the hallway, calling out.
“Where is everyone?” the voice boomed, and then the door opened.
Holly and Roger found themselves staring at the face of Jarvis, who paled at the realization of what he had intruded upon.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jarvis swayed, stricken with horror. His own son and his stepdaughter. Passing a trembling hand before his eyes, he turned toward the door, unable to face the abominable sight. His voice came out a croak. “Cover yourselves. I have to talk to you. Claudia is very ill.”
Holly cried out. “What’s happened? Where is she?”
He would not, could not, look at her. “Vicksburg. The hospital.” Then the words came tumbling forth in all his wretched despair. “Sometime after we sailed, she became very sick. She fainted, and I couldn’t awaken her, so of course we headed back to Vicksburg, the closest port. She’s there now, and I”—he shuddered—“Oh, Holly, how could you?”
“I want you to take me to her as soon as I get dressed,” Holly said, throwing the bed coverlet around herself and running from the room.
Jarvis slammed the door after her, anger replacing shock. Glaring at his son, his face pinched, tight-set, he felt quaking begin deep within. “How could you?” he asked in a raspy voice. “Damn you, Roger, don’t your harlots satisfy you? Did you have to pick an innocent young girl?”
Roger began to dress. “Don’t worry. I’m going to make an honest woman of her, for the sake of our family name,” he added with a sneer.
Jarvis was quick to say no. “I won’t have it. I know you, Roger, for the arrogant, cruel creature you are. You may be my son, but I pity any woman who marries you, and by God, it won’t be Holly.”
Roger barely spared him a glance. “I don’t give a damn what you think. I’m going to marry her. Now how about getting out of here and letting me dress so we can get to Vicksburg.”
Jarvis planted himself in front of Roger, his manner implacable. “I won’t allow you to marry her. It grieves me to have to say this, but if you do, you’ll never see any of my money again. We both know you worship wealth. So think hard, Roger. I mean what I say.”
Roger looked at him—a long, hard look. “I don’t need your money, you old goat,” he said finally, enjoying the hurt on Jarvis’s face. “I’ve got more money than you ever dreamed of having. I don’t need you for one damn thing. I can buy you and bury you if I choose.”
Jarvis felt a sharp, unfamiliar stab of pain deep in his chest. His heart hurt…ached to hear such abuse from his own son. “How…how can you speak to me this way? I’m your father.”
Roger buttoned his shirt, his eyes riveted on Jarvis. “My father? You are a fool. I suppose it’s time for the truth. I can’t stand to hear your sniveling.
“Are you really this stupid? You were as ineffectual with my mother as you’ve been in all your relationships. She couldn’t stand you any more than I can. She told me years ago who my real father is…was. He’s dead now,” he said coolly. “No matter. At least I am not the fruit of your worthless loins, I’m pleased to say.”
Jarvis clutched at his chest, swayed, and stumbled. Roger made no move to help him. “You…you’re making it up, Roger. How can you hurt me so much? Lies, Roger. Your mother. You lie about her. An honorable woman, and you besmirch her memory.”
“Besmirch!” Roger echoed contemptuously. “You are an old fool. She laughed behind your back as I laugh in your face. She stayed with you because of your money and your social position. My father wasn’t her only lover. There were many. She didn’t try to hide anything from me. We were close. I respected her for trying to find happiness despite you. She was what she is, as I am what I am, and I’m glad to at least be able to
tell you the truth.”
Jarvis forced himself to stand erect. Slowly, very slowly, anger was overcoming the pain. He regained his composure as he faced the son who had suddenly become an evil stranger. “You will remain here. I will take Holly to her mother. Then I’m coming back here and we are going to talk.”
Roger laughed. “I don’t dance to your tune any more, old man. I am wealthy now, on my own. I don’t have to kiss your pompous ass, Jarvis. God!” He rolled his eyes heavenward, sighing exaggeratedly. “How wonderful to be able to say ‘Jarvis,’ at last, and not the hypocritical name ‘Father.’”
“Shut your mouth,” Jarvis said furiously. “No more, do you hear? No damn more!” He lunged forward, catching Roger off-guard and hitting him across the face.
Roger reacted with forceful fury. “You don’t ever strike me, you pompous bastard!” Roger struck out with his fist as hard as he could, sending Jarvis sprawling backward against the bureau. Roger leaped on him, grabbing him by the collar and jerking him to his feet, then slapped him back and forth with his open palm until blood trickled from the corners of the older man’s mouth. “Never hit me again, Jarvis! Understand? I have the power now, not you, not any more. You will do as I say or I’ll have you killed. Do you believe me, or must I beat you senseless?”
Jarvis struggled to hold on to consciousness. The pain in his chest was terrible and getting worse, as though a giant fist was opening and closing around his heart. With the last shreds of his strength, he reached out gently and touched this stranger’s face. “Tell me…tell me you were drunk…didn’t mean it…anything,” he pleaded. “I swear to believe you, forgive you. I love you…”
His voice trailed off and his eyes suddenly became transfixed, unseeing. One last convulsion rippled through his chest and he went slack.
