by Gina Danna
“You may kiss your bride.”
Emma heard the preacher’s words, meant for her and Billy. Had she really said the vows? Had he? Was she truly married? The thought caused her to shudder just as Billy’s lips touched hers.
Her mind was a whirlwind after the past couple of weeks. So much to do, and none of it seemed real. Ever since the attack on Fort Sumter and Virginia’s alliance with the Confederacy, war fever had gripped Rose Hill. Her father’s raising of a local militia gave him something to concentrate on, coaxing him out of his widower’s grief. It also meant that Billy was at the house daily, as he was the ranking captain of the group per John Henry’s appointment. Billy made sure to see Emma and whittled away her resistance until she had accepted his marriage proposal.
She wished Charles were home. He had left not long after Virginia’s secession—not long after Jack had left for the North. Charles’ military experience placed him within the new Confederate Army, and he had written her of his role drilling men. Her fingers had traced the lines of his writing, noticing the flourish and his excitement. What she wouldn’t have given for his presence now. Had she made the right choice regarding Billy?
Billy claimed he loved her. Of course, she told him she loved him, but did she? Did she love him anymore than as the childhood friend he had always been? Even now, as his mouth pressed against hers, did she feel any of the spark, any of the fireworks that Jack Fontaine had caused?
The clapping around her and Billy brought her mind back to the present. This was her wedding. Unlike her sister’s quick ceremony with only her, Charles and their father as guests, Emma’s included the neighbors, Billy’s parents and even the house slaves. They stood applauding the joyous occasion. Billy smiled at her. Their kiss had been a public display of her commitment to him. She only wished her heart felt as committed.
“Congratulations, my beautiful girl,” her father murmured as he bent and kissed her cheek. “And you, boy, you best take care of her.” He slapped Billy on the shoulder.
As the crowd surrounded them, Emma felt trapped, suffocated as everyone wished them the best. Many of the men nudged Billy. Oh yes, she noticed. Her gut twisted.
“My missy Emma, now all grown up,” Sally cried as she stood in front of her. The head house slave, the woman who was a second mother to her, could not embrace her. It wasn’t proper for her to hug Emma with all the others around. That particular rule of the peculiar institution of slavery made Emma sad. She so needed a hug, but not from her husband. That thought made her skin prickle with aversion.
“Thank you, Sally,” she muttered, finally finding her voice.
The black-skinned woman chuckled, her plump body quivering. “Now, don’t you be worried none. We’ll get this all cleaned for ya’.” She winked.
Billy slid his hand under her elbow. “Come, sweetheart. Everyone’s expecting us to go start eating so they can.” He pulled her chair out and seated her before taking his own seat.
The slaves served dinner, and she had to squelch a nauseous feeling upon seeing the abundance of food. As the new mistress of the Silvers home, she had spent the last two weeks figuring out the upcoming months, how much they could sell, how much they should keep to get them through the winter, and it was a stretch. Particularly with her father feeding his troops from her store of grain and greens. And now this. They had a selection of beef and three different fowl, multiple salads, breads and fruits. Plus cases of wine, opened and served freely throughout the meal. Her head hurt considering their dwindling supplies.
Better to brood over that instead of what lie ahead. The newlyweds had only tonight. Tomorrow, Billy and his unit were to report to Richmond. News was about of a Yankee invasion. War hawks circled the Confederate capital. The Yankee aggressors were coming.
She barely ate. During the speeches for future happiness, she sipped her wine but found it hard to swallow. Billy glanced at her often, smiling. He was happy. She wished she was. He should have been Jack, as she had hoped and desired. That was before Jack found her wanting and took her sister instead. Although the screaming in her sleep had stopped, her dreams, despite the exhaustion from running the house, still found Jack lurking there.
Billy embraced her as they danced on the parquet flooring, which had been moved outside for the occasion. His hold was strong and steady. She tried to smile. He was a good man, and she needed to thank God that Billy at least wanted her.
The party goers were in high spirits, fueled by the celebration and alcohol when, in the middle of a dance, Billy stopped. Emma’s thoughts, which had been working at maintaining an illusion of happiness, came to a halt when she heard him whisper in her ear, “Come, my beautiful wife.”
She gasped when he locked his arm under her knees and lifted her. The dwindling crowd clapped, hooted and hollered as he took her into the house. Embarrassment flooded her, and she buried her face in his shoulder.
“Sweetheart, they mean well,” he said softly as he stepped across the threshold and headed for the stairs.
With each step, Emma’s heart thudded. This was her wedding night. The night she was to become a woman. Anxiety snaked down her spine but not because of the act necessarily. No, it was because her husband was Billy and not Jack. Caroline had succumbed to Jack and he to her, and Emma’s heart broke as a result.
The scent of roses filtered through the air, filling Emma’s nose with their essence. She looked up. She and Billy were in the guest bedroom. Billy lowered her to her feet. “I wanted to make this special for you,” he said softly. Did she hear fear in his voice? Or was that only her?
Emma swallowed and gazed about the room. It held several vases of roses, on the dresser, nightstands, table, windowsills and along the floor. And bright red petals were sprinkled across the bed.
He came up behind her and encircled her waist with his arms. He kissed her neck as his hands reached back and untied her bodice lacings.
She bit her bottom lip, fighting the tears pooling in her eyes. He turned her to face him and covered her mouth with his. Her stomach clenched.
“Oh, my darling,” he murmured as he pulled down her bodice. With a flick of his fingers, her skirt came undone, and he reached underneath and pulled the strings to her petticoats and cage crinoline. As her gown and undergarments pooled around her feet, a small voice inside wondered at how quickly he was undressing her. Her corset came loose, and he unhooked its busk. It fell onto the heap at her feet. Considering she had never seen him with another girl besides Caroline, she was amazed he knew what he was doing.
Emma saw his eyes darken as he reached for the hem of her chemise and raised it over her head. Her nude body shivered as his eyes devoured her. He growled and picked her up to place her on the rose petal-covered mattress. He shrugged off his shirt and discarded his boots and pants to climb in next to her. “Oh, Emma,” he whispered against her mouth.
His kisses were warm. Not hot, but she could get used to them. Slowly, her hand circled his neck, bringing him a touch closer. She felt him hum in her mouth. With resignation, she breathed the rose-scented air deeply. Billy was her husband, and this was his right. And maybe he would help her forget Jack. She pressed her body against his.
Billy moaned as his arms encircled Emma tightly. Still kissing her, his tongue invaded her mouth as his hands lowered onto her buttocks, lifting them and pulling her closer. She felt the pressure of his arousal next to her pelvis. It was hot and hard, but the tip of it was smooth against her skin. When his hand reached between her legs, his fingers tracing the folds closer to the front, she trembled. Fear raced through her. Not from excitement as Jack’s touch had caused but from intimidation.
“Emma, relax,” he murmured as his lips trailed down her neck, down her chest and to a nipple. He brought the tip into his mouth and suckled. Tingles blossomed, sending a warmth through to her core. She felt the sensation flood her lower abdomen. And when his wandering fingers skimmed the slit between her legs, she felt the wetness there. Next, Billy slid one finger inside
her. She clenched at first, feeling invaded before her body welcomed it and released more of her juices.
“Oh, Emma,” he rasped, removing his hand, “open your legs.”
When she did, his member fell to her slit. He reached between them and placed the head of it at the opening where his finger had been. Fear swept over her as he kissed her neck. His member slid inside her as he murmured her name.
It was wrong. She cringed as he started to move inside her. It shouldn’t be him. She wanted to tell him to get out when she heard him moan and felt him thrust deep inside her. She gasped at the pain, biting her cheek to avoid screaming as he entered her, feeling herself stretch to accommodate him. He stopped moving, looking into her face.
“Oh, Emma, please don’t,” he said, his hand wiping the tears from her face. “It only hurts once.”
Her body opened to him, but she felt sick. He continued to move inside her, withdrawing and re-entering, and her body met his, answering his thrusts. She bit her bottom lip when he rose above her, moaning as his actions increased, her hips keeping time with his. Deep inside her now, Billy went faster, and her slick canal tightened around him, squeezing harder.
“Oh, Emma! Yes!” Billy roared at the last plunge, lifting her hips off the mattress as he filled her with his seed.
She turned her head, weeping, her heart torn. Jack.
#
As Jack got closer to the front door of his house, he couldn’t help but feel something was wrong. His insides clenched. Surely Caroline was home, although she was the last person he wanted to see. But he was tired and had nowhere else to go.
It had taken three days of hard riding back to Washington after the Union victory at Rich Mountain. The story about Pegram’s troops being turned away was repeated in every paper he saw on his return trip. The victory was credited to McClellan. Jack himself saw the small grin cross the officer’s face as he read the telegram from Washington, calling on him to lead the Union forces to even greater victories.
McClellan had taken a train to the capital, but Jack rode his horse. He needed the ride. What he had seen and heard on the battlefield haunted his dreams—the moaning of the wounded, the blood, the legs, arms and abdomens ripped to shreds by metal projectiles. Riding hard, wearing both himself and his horse out, brought exhaustion and much-needed sleep. Sleep where dreams had no place. Well, most of the time.
At the door, he stopped. He heard muffled noise from inside, as though Caroline had company. Great, he thought. The last thing he wanted was company. As he turned the knob, he wondered where George was. He walked in, the servant’s name upon his tongue when Caroline’s laughter rang out, followed by several male voices.
He frowned. Dropping his saddlebags at the door, he strode to the drawing room.
Caroline was entertaining four young men—two in dark suits, the other two in navy wool uniforms. Officers. Everyone was laughing and holding glasses of what Jack guessed to be his brandy.
No one had heard him come in.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he stated as coolly as he could, tamping down his rising anger. With a nod to Caroline, he added, “my dear.”
Her eyes widened, and he caught a flicker of something. Surprise, perhaps? She schooled her features and smiled as she stood. With a step, she was at his side, on her toes to kiss his cheek.
“Darling, I’m so glad you’re home,” she greeted. “You should have sent word.” She tried to kiss his mouth. When her lips touched his, he didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the men.
Her mouth twitched. “Let me introduce Senator Wilmington of Indiana, his aid, Mr. Cassidy and Lt. Wilcox and Capt. Carter.”
Carter grinned at him, like a child whose best friend had been caught stealing a toy. Jack bristled. What the hell was going on, he wanted to yell at her, but gritted his teeth instead.
“Gentlemen, to what do I owe this honor?” He managed to control his tone though it took all the strength he had.
Cassidy stood, his round body quivering as he laughed. “Came to see your lovely wife on an investigative tour,” he stated, his tone that of a politician’s. It grated on Jack’s nerves. “You have quite the lady here, Captain.”
He eyed them speculatively. “Yes, well, gentlemen, I’ve just returned from the West. If I could ask you all to leave.” It wasn’t a question but a command. He wanted the lechers out. Even Carter.
“Of course,” Cassidy replied. Turning to Caroline, he took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Thank you for your kind hospitality.”
She smiled. The others also thanked her and left.
With a vicious glare, she turned to him. “How dare you? Of all the rude…”
“What the hell are you doing entertaining men while I’m gone?” he demanded.
She looked at him with shock. “How vulgar war is making you,” she commented flatly. “As to those gentlemen, what else am I to do? I was bored waiting for your return.”
His temper flared still more. “You will not entertain any man in my absence, do you understand me?”
“What does it matter to you who I keep company with?”
“You are my wife. You will do what you are told,” he ordered. “You vowed to obey me. And to honor me. You will be respectful of me and your position here.”
“Position,” she scoffed.
He stormed out of the room but stopped and turned to her. “And you will sleep with no one but me. Am I making myself clear?”
She laughed. “You. Yes, just like before you left for war? You left me in our bed alone.”
He bristled. “And you lied to me, implying you were a virgin.”
Her head fell back in laughter. When she looked at him, her haughty spoiled-daughter face was in place. “I was. One past indiscretion, when I was taken advantage of, and you’ll hold it against me?”
His gaze narrowed. “Darlin’, I doubt anything has ever been taken from you without you asking for it.” He left the room, but instead of heading toward the bedroom, he went to the front door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she shrilly demanded.
“I’ve work to do.” He slammed the door behind him as she screamed his name.
#
Jack swallowed more of the smooth dark amber brandy, welcoming the scorch as it slid down his throat. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Damn, she was beautiful, he thought to himself.
She took the glass from his hand and reached up to kiss his lips. “Jack, let me help you forget,” her soft, seductive voice cooed. His body tightened at her suggestion.
“Leslie,” he replied. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
She laughed. “All you had to do was ask.”
After he left Caroline, he went to The Eagle saloon on First Street and found his long lost lover lounging at the bar, listening to some distraught politician rant about the new president. It took him but a second to suggest the man find another ear. She’d laughed at his arrival, claiming she came to Washington for new clients, and with the War, her income had grown.
He bought her for a week. He refused to go home. Instead, he put Leslie up in her own suite at the Carlton Hotel and made his home in her bed. Not that he needed her for sex, though that was obviously on the agenda. No, what he needed was her comfort. The very least he had thought Caroline could give him, but as far as he was concerned, she had betrayed him both in bed and in their marriage.
With Leslie, everything was simple. He paid for her company—no responsibility on his part after he bought her time. It was her duty to attend to his every need, every desire, even if it meant doing nothing. No marriage vows, no attachments. She was beautiful, alluring and for hire, not his legal obligation. After that night, so many years ago at home, he wanted no duty to family.
Despite all he had drunk, Jack’s member hardened and he rolled over onto her. When she giggled, he impaled her with it. Her lips and hands roved over him as he entered her. She murmured his name and moaned with insistence, but he heard none of
it. Instead, his mind transformed her ebony hair to auburn, her porcelain white face to a sun-kissed one, with freckles sprinkled across her nose.
“Jack,” the vision called. Emma’s voice.
With a groan of frustration, he withdrew and fell to Leslie’s side. “I’m sorry,” he muttered without looking at her.
He knew she’d say nothing. It wasn’t her place. As her hand stroked his hair, he succumbed to the blackness and freedom of sleep.
#
August 1861
Emma tried to thread her needle again. The late afternoon sun poured into the drawing room, making it terribly hot. No breeze came through the open windows. Sally had Mary’s son Titus fanning Emma with some tweed stretched across a square frame at the end of a long pole—a pole longer than the boy was tall. He hadn’t complained, actually didn’t speak even once, but she pitied him as she sweltered in the heat. Finally, in an act of Christianity, or maybe frustration as he almost dropped the device on her, she sent him away. But as perspiration ran down her neck, beneath her dress and past the chemise and corset lacings, she wished she’d kept him there.
When the white thread missed the needle’s eye on her third attempt, she threw it down, along with the cotton shirt she had been sewing. Her fingers ached from clutching the material so tightly, and her back ached. She had finished four shirts already for her father’s militia boys, the Charles City Knights. Sipping her lemonade, she glanced out the window at some noise. It sounded like a carriage and team.
She walked out the front door, straining to see through the cloud of dust in the lane, wondering who’d come calling.
A carriage pulled by four bay horses thundered into the drive and stopped at the porch. She watched warily as her slave opened the door and dropped the step from the vehicle. Inside, there was the sound of silk rustling. The passenger leaned out the door to take a step, and Emma’s mouth fell open in utter surprise.
Caroline.
Cautiously, Caroline stepped out of the carriage and onto the ground before she looked up at Emma. She smiled as only Caroline could, in a show of bravado at returning home. Emma waited, watching the carriage. Tilly emerged and began to arrange Caroline’s skirts. But no Jack.
