An Extraordinary Union

by Alyssa Cole

  Malcolm laughed.

  “What season makes you happiest?” He withheld the groan that sought escape as the heels of her feet pressed into the bed on either side him, anchoring herself as she sank onto him.

  “Autumn,” she said on a gasp as her core clenched around him. She pushed him so that he lay flat on his back and she could control the pace of their lovemaking. “Up North where I live, the forest looks like a sea of flames when the leaves change.”

  “Your favorite song,” he said, circling his hips as he pushed into her, savoring how perfectly they fit.

  She closed her eyes briefly in her pleasure and then gave a little laugh. “ ‘Hallelujah,’ ” she breathed as she rolled her hips, taking him in even more deeply. “That is, Handel’s Messiah.”

  “Book,” he gritted out as he lifted his hips. Her hands were splayed on his chest now, providing her with support as she rode him. They were working at a steady rhythm now—him gliding into her hot, slick core and her bearing down to meet him thrust for thrust.

  “Too many to name,” she snapped, annoyance clear in her tone, and Malcolm laughed and moaned at the same time. She swiveled her hips during her downward motion, adding a new and wonderfully delicious friction to their joining.

  “I’ll know them all one day,” he gritted out. “I’ll learn everything there is to know about you and it still won’t—”

  “Shut up and kiss me,” she commanded, and Malcolm leaned up and did just that. This was the real Elle now, beautiful and unafraid as she pressed her lips to his and rode him with abandon. This was who she was when she was allowed to be free from fear.

  He rolled her beneath him, his knees chafing against the mattress as he thrust into her. Their kisses were wild and erratic, matching the henceforth unknown pleasure that held his body in thrall. Malcolm felt a new sort of rapture as they held each other, fused by their passion. He knew that she was giving him something even more dear than her body; the trust in him that allowed her to let go and enjoy their lovemaking.

  Their intimate sounds filled the air, and her hushed cries egged him on toward climax. Her core spasmed around his member, and he slid his hands down to cup her by the ass, holding her in place as he drove into her with a last furious barrage.

  He was so close, was amazed that he hadn’t spent himself yet, when she clamped around his cock, squeezing him with rapid muscular undulations as her back arched beneath him with enough force to lift his hips clean off the bed with her.

  Her passionate wail echoed in his mouth, entering his body like a spirit that possessed him. He cried out then, too, as his body stiffened and sensation spread from the soles of his feet to his belly. He quickly withdrew, giving himself a last stroke with his own hand as his seed surged forth, spurting onto her stomach as she trembled beneath him.

  There was silence in the aftermath, nothing but their ragged breath and the pounding of Malcolm’s heart in his ears. She looked up at him with eyes that were drowsy with pleasure, but hesitant as well, as if unsure what to say.

  When he was sure he had his bearings, he rolled away from her and retrieved the soapy cloth. He lay beside her, cleaning his expenditure from her stomach, sliding the cloth between her legs and over her thighs. He couldn’t speak just yet, so he simply kissed her as he worked, following a trail from the shell of her ear to her lips. Then he put the cloth aside and held her close to him in the cool Southern night.

  “We’re in trouble now, aren’t we?” she asked, running her fingers over his chest in a motion that brought him ever closer to slumber.

  Before that night, his definition of trouble had included the possibility of capture, torture, and death. But now he knew there was something much more terrifying a man could face: love.

  “That we are, my sweet Elle.” He ran his knuckles over her jawline.

  “Sweet? I should have killed you when I had the chance,” she said. She snuggled closer to him.

  Trouble, indeed.

  CHAPTER 14

  Elle stood in front of her trunk naked, searching for the items she would need for the day’s journey. It was dark, but she remembered exactly where she had packed each piece of clothing. She focused all of her thoughts on the act of retrieval, trying to ignore Malcolm’s soft snoring behind her. He was curled up in the center of the bed, having grabbed her balled-up sheet when she slipped out from his arms.

  Glad to see I’m so easily replaceable, she thought tartly, although she knew it wasn’t the truth. She’d never felt so cherished in her life as when he’d held her close. But part of her missed the reassuring doubt that had marked their previous relationship.

  What had occurred between them opened up an entire world of possibility that should have been unthinkable. She’d been relying on his lack of seriousness to save her from her own desire. But she’d been mistaken to think that Malcolm was the type of man who would act on a whim when it came to matters of the heart. Now they were both plummeting without a safety net, and Lord knew where they would land.

  She sighed and tried to focus on the task in front of her. It frightened her, this deviation from her mission, but her instinct told her that chancing this trip to follow Dix would be worth the risk. LaValle wouldn’t mind if she had something to show for it, and if she turned up nothing, he wouldn’t need to know about the trip at all. She was in the business of gathering information, and that info didn’t always arrive on one’s doorstep. She was glad that the fever going around gave her an excuse for not showing at the Caffreys’, but she would still pay dearly for it, even if she pleaded she was too sick to move. She’d take whatever punishment they doled out, although the possibilities frightened her. Anything for the Cause.

  She lit a candle—they would have to set out soon, and Malcolm needed to wake up and prepare—then slid on her drawers and trousers, and the soft leather boots one of her students back home had outgrown. Staring into her cloudy shard of mirror, she stuffed her hair into her rough wool cap and pulled it down over her ears, securing it with pins so it wouldn’t fly off at an inopportune moment. She pulled out a length of fabric and was about to begin the awkward task of binding her chest when Malcolm’s eyes blinked open and his hand patted the bed beside him, searching. Then his gaze focused on her from across the room and a slow smile spread across his face.

  “Good morning, young fellow, have you seen a pretty little thing about yea high?” he said in a voice still cloaked with sleep. He hovered his hand just over the mattress.

  “I’m not that short,” she said, lashing the fabric at him. He caught the edge of it and pulled her down onto the bed with him, sliding an arm around her so her breasts were pushed up against the coarse hairs of his chest.

  “Now you are,” he whispered in a gravelly voice before pressing his mouth over hers. He kissed her long and slow and deep, making her go soft with need. Elle despised the rock-hard excuse for a mattress, but having Malcolm there made her consider the possibility of never leaving it. There, in her shabby little room, there was no one to look down on her for the way Malcolm made her heart beat quickly and her knees go weak.

  Feels like home, she thought as she caressed his stubbled chin, then chastised herself for allowing such an absurdity to cross her mind.

  “It’s nice to hold you like this, to let all the madness of the world swirl around us as we sit comfortably in the eye of the storm,” he said. “It makes me think of one of those Scott poems I had to memorize, one that I thought quite innocuous until this very moment. I know you’re not an ardent admirer of his work, but it seems fitting. ‘One hour with thee! When sun is set, oh, what can teach me to forget, the thankless labors of the day.’”

  He recited the lines in a voice that had dropped an octave with desire and ached with need. His Gaelic burr accentuated each syllable, giving sensuous twists that loaned the words new and erotic undertones. Perhaps she would have had more affection for Scott if she always heard his poetry in this way.

  He paused and smiled at her expectantly. A n
ew desire bloomed within Elle, in addition to the fluttering in her belly. She wanted to join in his recitation. Not to one-up him or to prove anything, but for a reason that was new to her: for the enjoyment of it.

  “ ‘The hopes, the wishes, flung away,’” she continued where he left off, the knowledge shared between them deepening their connection as much as the warmth of his arms banded about her. “ ‘The increasing wants and lessening gains, the master’s pride, who scorns my pains?’”

  “ ‘One hour with thee,’” Malcolm finished the verse on a rasp, his eyes dark with feeling.

  The words hung between them, leaving Elle feeling exposed. They were as intimate as any declaration of ardor, and maybe more so. She’d performed poetry for audiences before, but she’d always done so without feeling. She’d shared her body and her heart with another before, but never her mind. She’d thought those things must be kept separate.

  Until now.

  “We have work to do,” she said. It was a statement of fact and a reminder of purpose, both. “Get dressed.”

  “I’ll add this to my list of reasons to destroy the Confederacy,” he muttered. He snuck in a kiss and then rolled away from her to pull on his clothing. When he’d buttoned and buckled and arranged everything just so, Elle handed him the binding fabric and raised her hands above her head.

  “For this particular mission, it won’t do to be jiggling about as we ride. Can you bind my chest?” she asked. She wished his hands could be on her for another reason, but their task superseded any physical desires.

  “Anything for the Union,” he said with exaggerated sadness as he cinched the stretchy fabric tightly around her chest. His fingers skimmed her bare skin, sending little jolts through her that distracted her from the unpleasant sensation of being bound. It’d been weeks since she’d worn a proper corset, and although she’d felt uncomfortably underdressed at first, her breasts had apparently adjusted to their freedom.

  “There you go,” he said as he pinned the last of the fabric in place. “The most attractive mummy to walk the streets of Richmond.”

  She smiled as she slipped on her homespun shirt and oversized jacket and handed him his hat.

  “Time to go,” she said, heading for the door. She had the feeling she was forgetting something, then ran back and rummaged under the mattress to pull out her gun and ammunition, placing it in the satchel she’d slung over her shoulder.

  “That was under the bed the whole time?” Malcolm asked, shaking his head. “I knew I nearly died last night, but I thought from pleasure.”

  Elle laughed and stepped up to him, grabbing his collar and pulling him down to her height for one last kiss. The movement surprised both of them; perhaps because it had happened so naturally, as if it was out of habit. Disappointment descended upon her then, because she knew that once they stepped through that door, the fantasy they’d woven the previous night would be destroyed. She could show no outward attachment to this man beyond those allowed by the strictures of society.

  “From this point out, I’m Earl,” she said. “If anyone asks, I’m your boy. But don’t—”

  She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. She knew that at some point in their charade he might have to do something that would upset her. She could deal with it, and as a black woman in a country that saw her as nothing more than chattel, she’d had to be strong enough to deal with a heavy load. But everything had changed between her and Malcolm. She couldn’t bear to have him treat her badly if they could avoid it.

  “I know,” he said, squeezing her hand. “But we need to acknowledge now that if a situation arises where I have to treat you like a slave, then I’ll have to do it. I’ll go out of my way to avoid it, but you know that if there’s the slightest suspicion that I’m for the North, we could be killed. I’ve had some very close calls for far less innocuous things. In Tennessee, I was chased by a mob because they thought I walked like a Yank. I’ve talked my way out of a fair few bad turns, but I can’t risk having something happen to you because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  He was right. Elle knew he was right, and still the prospect of him treating her harshly made her stomach churn. She nodded and made to move away from him, but he gently tugged at her sleeve, holding on until she looked back at him.

  “I’m aware that I have the upper hand in every way save one, but don’t think mistreating you would be easy for me,” he said, his voice rough. “Don’t think it doesn’t chip away at my soul every time I have to say and do terrible things to gain the enemy’s trust. I’ve done a lot of acting, and I’m good at it, but no amount of patriotism will make having to disrespect you easy for me. Understand?”

  She saw the trepidation in his eyes; he was an expert at schooling his emotions, but he didn’t hide anything from her in that moment.

  “What is the one way you don’t have the upper hand, pray tell?” she asked. The skepticism in her tone was purposeful, a sharp and thorny prod that would push him away from her, even if just for a moment. The danger of what she’d gotten herself into made itself more apparent each time she glanced at him and longed for something that could never be.

  He didn’t answer her, simply looked at her in a way that made her feel as if the flames of Charleston themselves could not have burned more strongly than he did for her.

  She shouldn’t have asked.

  “Let us go,” she whispered. “We need to get to the stables to rent horses,” she said. “It’s getting closer to dawn and we need to be ready to make chase. And I need to send a message to Timothy telling him to spread the word I’ve got that fever that’s going around. That should make them glad of my absence.”

  “Whatever you think is best, Earl,” Malcolm said archly as they stepped out into the still darkness.

  A cool breeze made Elle shiver. On mornings like this it was hard to believe that Richmond would be hot as a tar pit in a few months. The thought of summer warmth made Elle feel cold inside. Where would she be then? Where would Malcolm? More importantly, would the country be united by then or would it still be embroiled in this macabre battle?

  At the stables, they took out two older but seemingly sturdy horses. All the fastest and freshest horses were being used in the war effort, so they didn’t exactly have the pick of the litter, but they were lucky they hadn’t ended up with a couple of old nags.

  Elle’s message was slipped to the stable boy with explicit delivery instructions. They gave him a few coins for his trouble and then they were off.

  “The Lancelot Inn is located just off of the main road,” Elle said in a low tone as they rode along, her horse staggered just a bit behind his for appearance sake. “There are some horse trails that lead out the back and toward the back roads, but they have a coach, so they have to leave the stables via the main exit. You stay around this corner here with the horses and I’ll hide in this empty trough. That way I can see which way they’re going.”

  Malcolm grinned at her, apparently impressed with her summary.

  “Good thinking, Earl,” he said, reaching over as she handed him the reins. She dismounted, looked around just in case anyone else was up extra early heading toward a day of labor, and then hopped into the trough. She had only been half-right about it being empty, unfortunately. Icy water sloshed about her shoes and soaked the hem of her pants. The trough smelled of horse spittle, but the view was perfect.

  She crouched there for a long time. Long enough that her knees began to ache and she could no longer feel her toes, and she began to wonder if they had missed Dix heading out after all. She was just about to risk stretching her aching back when the coach rolled out with Ben seated in the driver’s seat. Two Rebel soldiers bought up the rear as outriders, indicating that the meeting was, indeed, important.

  She clambered out and jogged over to Malcolm. When she was seated on her mount, she told him what she had seen.

  “We can follow somewhat closely now,” she said. “When the sun starts to rise, then we’ll have t
o fall back.”

  Malcolm nodded, and they were off. It was a quiet ride, with one of them occasionally trotting up ahead to be sure they hadn’t lost their quarry. Elle took in the beauty of the morning, the fading pinpricks of the stars above and the morning call of birds as sunrise drew near.

  Their horses picked quietly among the twigs and leaves in the road. She patted her animal’s flank as it rode onward, feeling a heightened sense of kinship with the beast, and with the man beside her. She knew that they weren’t out for a morning jaunt—it was dangerous business they were about. But there was a peace within her right alongside the nervous excitement. She and Malcolm had agreed to undertake this mission together, and even though their relationship had changed since that decision had been made, he sought no dominion over her and, in fact, followed her willingly.

  They chatted as they traveled, ever alert but using the time to learn more about each other. Malcolm regaled her with stories of his family: his ginger-topped brother, Ewan, who had always been quiet and serious to the point of causing worry, and their younger sister, Donella, who thought herself just one of the boys and smarted that she wasn’t afforded their freedoms. Elle wondered what it would have been like to have had siblings to share her life with. Her mother had not wanted to risk having another child, fearing the master would see Elle as expendable and sell her off. After they made it North, she hadn’t been able to.

  As sunlight started to filter through the trees, Elle began to get a better idea of where they were heading. She pictured the map of Virginia she’d memorized, figured in their approximate direction and speed and Dix’s possible intent.

  “I believe that we’re heading toward the York River, or perhaps the bay,” she observed quietly.

  “That would make sense given what we suspect,” he said. “I wonder if the ship will be there.”