by Gina Danna
“Mathias, what is it?” His owner demanded.
The man stood, wide eyed, holding a folded scrap of paper in his hand. “A message, massa, from Massa Lawrence, sur.”
John Henry yanked the paper away from the boy and opened it. The room was so quiet, a pin drop would have been loud. The elder Silvers inhaled, closing his eyes. When he opened them, they sparkled and a grin spread across his face.
“Virginia’s done it. We’ve joined the Confederacy!”
The crowd burst into shouts of joy and began hugging each other. Jack stood still, his heart thudding wildly. Everything in his life had suddenly changed again. Charles jumped with excitement. Even Billy Lawrence got a slap on the back in congratulations for living in such a free-thinking state. Jack pasted a smile on his face. His leave would end and he’d have to report for duty.
Across the room, he saw Emma in Billy’s arms as he swung her around the room. He didn’t like it, not one bit. Why couldn’t that man go after Caroline? The thought brought him up short. Billy had released Emma, and she stood, laughing, but it didn’t reach her brown eyes. Her gaze found his. His heart skipped a beat. She was so pretty, always had been from the moment he first met her. Tonight, at this very second, she looked beautiful. Her rich brown hair, a dark sable, was falling from its pins because of Billy spinning her. Her buttercup gown glowed like honey, dripping in cream lace. Taller than her petite sister, she was stunning. Her breasts rose with every breath, appearing to almost spill out of her bodice. Her ivory skin was flushed with color. And those plump ruby lips. She licked them and his body tightened.
He wanted her. That kiss years ago continued to haunt him. Would she grant him another, before he left to betray their home, the South? His hands clenched. He should leave now, before succumbing to the temptation she represented.
#
“Huzzah!”
The word buzzed in Emma’s ears. She tried to regain her balance after Billy’s wild spin. This meant the War would affect her personally. All she had to do was look at each male face in the room and know she was doomed to lose her family and friends over a cause she didn’t understand or want to.
Caroline succumbed to the enthusiasm of the moment, even hugging her sister. But Emma wasn’t happy at all. Charles and Billy were already spouting about killing some Yankees. She turned and caught Jack watching her. He had such a strange look on his face. As though he could read her mind—he knew war meant tragedy and that it wasn’t something to be celebrated. The intensity of his stare burned into her. Would he depart without giving Emma another kiss to remember him by? Would she allow it? When he finished his drink and left the room, she went out another door.
She heard his boots stomping down the hallway, toward the back of the house.
“Jack!”
He didn’t stop.
“Jack, wait!”
He was too far ahead of her, and now, she couldn’t see him or hear his boots. She stopped, stifling a sob in her throat with her fist. He was gone.
She wanted to sink to the floor. But an arm circled her waist, pulling her into the dark drawing room. A gasp escaped her as she heard a sultry “shhh” in her ear.
“Jack?” she whispered.
He spun her around and brought her closer. “My sweet Emma,” his voice gravelly as he caressed her cheek with his knuckles.
Her heart pounded wildly. Heat radiated from him to her. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, his stomach against her stays.
“Kiss me, Emma,” he whispered as he tilted his head, his lips brushing hers, teasing her.
He was too tempting to resist. Her mouth met his as she raised her arms, encircling his neck. He growled as his tongue played against her lips, seeking entrance. When she parted them, he invaded her mouth, his tongue tangling with hers. It was a passionate assault, and she met it just as forcefully.
His hand cradled the back of her head, and the other held her waist in his embrace. She tasted the brandy on his tongue, inhaled the sandalwood, spice and musky smell of him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, feeling the softness of those dark locks.
There was a thud as her back hit the wall. She could barely breathe but wouldn’t let go of him. He broke the kiss, murmuring her name as he nibbled down her neck. He pressed into her, smashing her crinoline to the wall, flattening it. Through her petticoats and silk skirt, she felt the hardness of him against her lower abdomen. It excited and scared her, but she didn’t utter a sound except to gasp as he kissed her neck and moved back up to her mouth.
“Emma,” he said, pulling his head back, staring into her eyes. All she saw was the black depth of his. “Emma, you know this means war…”
“Yes.”
“You know I have to go.”
“No, please,” she begged. She didn’t care if she sounded pathetic.
A sad smile played at his lips. “You know I do.”
She fought the tears that threatened to form. “Kiss me, Jack. Kiss me. I’ve always wanted you to kiss me again.”
He groaned and recaptured her mouth. She played with his hair and around his neck, digging in under his collar to the bare flesh. She felt the vibration of his growl in her mouth.
He slid his hand up along her bodice and across her breast. His fingertips traced the lace fiche and dipped below it, skimming her skin. He looked into her eyes as his finger scraped her nipple. She felt it tingle and harden. He kissed her neck as he freed her breast and bent his head, taking the rosy nub into his mouth, suckling lightly. Desire uncoiled fast and hard inside her. She shifted her hips slightly and felt a dampness between her thighs.
He released the nipple and pulled her other breast free of the bodice, suckling on it as he squeezed the other. The pressure inside her was building. She groaned, perhaps too loudly because his mouth covered hers again. His hand fell to her waist, leaving her breasts exposed, the hardened nubs rubbing against his silk waistcoat, abraiding them.
“Oh, Emma,” he moaned. “I want you.” He cupped her rear, lifting her against him so she could feel his desire. His hardened member pushed against the spot between her legs, and she felt her petticoat stick to her wetness.
“Jack, please,” she begged before she knew what she was doing. She was on fire and needed him to put it out. Her skirts crushed under his grasp as he pulled them up and his hand went under them, skimming her thighs. With his other arm around Emma and her back to the wall, her hips flattened, causing her legs to spread apart. Her body was begging for some kind of release she didn’t recognize, but she instinctively knew Jack could provide it.
With the palm of his hand, Jack reached between Emma’s thighs and cupped her mound through the slit in her pantalets. She gasped. He stilled, breathing against her neck.
“Oh, God, Emma,” he muttered as he moved his fingers across her wetness.
Her mind reeled at first, but she moved her hips as her body dictated. She could hear the slick sound of wet flesh. Then his finger entered her, and she wanted to scream in ecstasy.
#
Every nerve of Jack’s pushed him further although he knew he should stop. She was a virgin, for the love of all that was holy! But he couldn’t stop himself. His shaft was so hard it throbbed with the need to be buried inside her. Her body had responded to his at every turn. He so longed to taste the nectar coating his fingers.
He pulled back abruptly, removing his hand from beneath her skirts. She was breathing hard. So was he. Fearing it might repulse her, he slowly licked her juices off his fingers.
They were alone. She was ready for him. Nothing was stopping him from taking her but himself. He closed his eyes, tried to steady his breath. When he opened them, he drank in her disheveled beauty and smiled.
He gently recovered her breasts, his breath hitching. “Emma, you know I love you. I want you.”
She let out a breath. “I want you, too.”
“I can’t take you here, not like this. You deserve to have the vows spoken first,” he said, looking into he
r eyes. “I’ll speak to your father before I leave.”
Emma smiled shakily. “If you leave now, he’ll think you’re no better than a damn Yankee.”
Jack’s face turned stony. “Emma, that is what I am.”
Her expression crumpled before she said, “Then it’s best I go.”
She didn’t denounce him, but she didn’t say yes, either. He wouldn’t push her. Not here, not now.
#
Caroline drank another glass of wine, squealing “Long live Virginia!” till she was almost hoarse. Looking for another bottle but finding none, she decided her sister, the maudlin “mistress of the house,” needed to rectify that. But Caroline discovered Emma was gone, as was Jack. The realization quickly sobered her, as a chill went down her spine.
She suddenly remembered that game of forfeit years ago and the kiss those two had shared. It had lasted too long for a parlor game and was too unseemly for public display. She had absolutely no doubt Emma had forced herself on Jack, and he, being a good Southern gentleman, didn’t say anything about it.
And now that they were missing from the soiree, Caroline became angrier with each step she took. It made her skin crawl to think her sister was off having a dalliance with her intended. Caroline quietly walked down the hall, listening at every door for sounds from them. She wanted to scream. But then the click of a door unlatching stopped her. It was just ahead. The hallway was dark. She quickly found a nook in which to hide. Tucking herself into it, she watched as Jack stepped through the doorway, looked up and down the corridor and motioned behind him. Caroline’s hand flew to her mouth as she saw Emma slip her hand into Jack’s. He bent and kissed her lips, muttered something that Caroline couldn’t hear and released her hand. Her sister went in the opposite direction down the hall.
Jack turned in Caroline’s direction, and she watched as he straightened his waistcoat and jacket, stifling her outrage over the implications of why he’d need to do that. Her mind raced as her anger flared. How dare that woman believe she could have him? Emma, sweet and demure Emma, who Caroline had feared her parents favored. She’d often seen her mother instruct Emma in how to be the mistress of the house, bypassing Caroline completely. And her father? He was always protecting darling little Emma. Well, that girl obviously didn’t need any protecting after disappearing into a room with a man and spending far too long alone with him.
Caroline composed herself, focusing on one thing—giving Emma another lesson. Obviously, she was too stupid to see that Caroline was determined to get what she wanted and deserved. Emma could have only what she didn’t want. Like responsibility for running the house. The perfect little job for Miss Obedient! As for Billy, well, she’d let Emma have him later...
Where Jack was concerned, Caroline thought she had taken care of everything when he first asked her and Emma to write him at school. She burned the letters Emma wrote to him, of course, and kept those from Jack to Emma. She was prevented from intervening the second time, after Jack had asked them to write again, and that angered her. But what she had just witnessed made her resolve to keep Emma from Jack once and for all.
Jack’s footsteps approached, and she had to act. Steeling herself, Caroline inhaled and pasted a dazzling smile on her face. Stepping out from where she had concealed herself, she ran right into him. She slipped on purpose so he would have to catch her.
“Caroline?”
“Oh, Jack,” she sighed sweetly. “You scared me.”
He stood her upright and frowned. “What are you doing away from the party?”
She gazed up at him, feigning innocence. “I was looking for Emma. We’re out of wine.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t think you’ll find her here in the dark.” He turned her back toward the front parlor.
“Perhaps, though I found you here, and I saw her walking the other way.”
He stopped. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“Oh, no,” she smiled, playing with one of her hanging curls. “But if you want help getting her, you’ll need my assistance. Daddy won’t take kindly to you Yankee types snooping around her skirts.”
“Caroline,” his voice sounded tense. She’d hit a nerve.
“Jack, I’m not stupid. I know you want to keep your pretty command in the Union. And you’ll be heading back North now that war’s begun. My father won’t support your cause without my help.” She winked at him. She saw the flicker in his eyes as he considered what she said, and she knew she’d won when he swallowed hard. Oh how she’d like him to swallow something else…she shivered with anticipation.
“All right, Caroline, I need your help then.”
I am tired and sick of war. Its glory is all moonshine. It is only those have neither
fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for
more blood, more vengeance, more desolation. War is Hell.
—William T. Sherman, 1879
Chapter Nine
The gleam in her eyes should have warned Jack. It was barely visible in the dark hall, but he caught it. His heart thudded madly from wanting to protect Emma and placate Caroline. As he led her back toward the others, his head was foggy from drinking and Emma’s scent, which still lingered. He blinked and tried to steady himself, only vaguely aware of Caroline’s chattering.
“…just follow my lead,” she whispered outside the door to the parlor.
Jack nodded.
“Jack, there you be,” Charles slurred, shoving a glass of amber liquid into his hand.
Jack smiled at his friend. This might be the last time he’d see him. He raised his glass to cheer for Virginia, feeling a tug of regret that his duty called him to the federal side. Those in this room, his family, his home and the South were his heritage. But when he thought of his father, the brandy curdled in his stomach.
Jean Baptiste and tradition. He’d heard about it throughout his childhood. The Fontaines had been here since the French and would remain so by blood. Even if that blood meant pain and torture for a young girl, “sacrificed” for the family. Jack felt anger rolling through him just as Billy smacked his shoulder with a laugh.
He turned.
“You lookin’ kinda quiet, there, Jack,” the young man said.
Jack scoffed and raised his empty glass. “Just noticin’ I’s be needing another,” he drawled.
“Here, let me,” the syrupy sweet voice cooed next to him.
He looked down and found Caroline pouring his glass full. She looked up at him, her gaze hooded as she bent her head and took a sip from his glass. What was she doing? But she flitted away before he could ask.
The rest of the night ebbed and flowed. He put his glass down only to have it thrust back into his hand as they raised another toast. He had a long ride ahead, but first, he must rest before speaking with John Henry about Emma. Emma. He closed his eyes, remembering her touch, and he swayed off balance, barely able to stop his fall. His thoughts were clouded by the whiskey. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind.
The world slowly began to spin. Stepping toward the side table, he set his glass down and vaguely heard it hit the floor as the room exploded with another roar for the South. He turned to bid everyone good night, but then everything went black.
#
Emma made it to her room, her chest heaving with each breath as she closed the door. She went to the window, grabbing the frame as she struggled to concentrate.
“Miss Emma…”
Emma’s heart leapt at the timid whisper of her slave, Issy. With her hand at her heart, she fought to breath evenly. “Issy,” she stammered. “Leave.”
Issy looked at her, the whites of her eyes showing in the moonlight pouring through the window. She nodded and scampered out of the room.
With her hand skimming over her neck and down, past her bosom to her waist, Emma’s eyes closed, remembering Jack’s touch. She touched her breasts, and a shiver racked her body as her nipples tightened. The pool between her legs re
turned at the memory of Jack’s kiss, his groan as his fingers slipped inside her. It was wicked, wanton behavior, but she couldn’t deny her longing for him.
Her legs buckled and she plopped onto her mattress, falling backward on the downy softness. Despite her wine-induced haze, she knew what had happened. Jack had compromised her thoroughly. And he had spoken of making her honorable by marriage. Yet, had he asked her to marry him? No, but his words hinted at it. She sighed, closing her eyes. Yes, she would be all right…
#
Click
Jack heard the sound. Metal, like a gun’s hammer locked into place, the chamber loaded. Naw, he was nowhere near any guns, not yet anyway. The pounding inside his head hurt terribly. His mind slipped back to the place he had been, hoping the pain would stop. He drifted, holding Emma, naked in his arms. She laughed when he pulled her closer so he could nibble at her neck again. That beautiful, elegant neck. He nuzzled her hair, burying his nose in it, kissing behind her ear and tracing her neck with his tongue.
She still wore that contraption of metal and lacing. He was puzzled. When did she put that back on?
“Jack.”
It was a male voice. Plus the smell of metal. And sulfur. He recalled one other time he had heard that metallic noise and smelled sulfur. It was from a gun. His eyes opened wide to find the muzzle of a rifle at his nose.
“What the hell are you doing, Jack?” It was Charles. But he wasn’t the one holding the gun. Jack looked up the gun barrel to its owner, John Henry. A very angry John Henry.
Underneath his arm, Jack felt a soft cotton-clad body move. He blinked, his mind sluggish. Releasing his hold on the woman near him, he focused on who he had been caught with in a compromising situation.
He suddenly knew before looking. Caroline. He jumped out of the bed, astonished when he saw her lying next to him, clad only in her undergarments, corset and petticoats. She was on top of the blanket, he underneath. What on God’s green Earth had happened?
