The Curse at Rose Hill

by Camille Oster

  "You don't tend these fields anymore," she said.

  "I tended these fields long enough," he said darkly. With another smile, he brought his hand up to trace a tress of hair framing her face. "Then you came. So completely innocent of all this—this stain. You came and I felt hope. It hurts, you know, hope.

  "But we are to suffer now, to pay for what we have done. Our crops are worth nothing. Most here think that will change, that the price of sugar will rise again, but it will not. The emancipation bill will pass, as it should, and then it will be the death knell for our efforts here. The Caribbean cannot run without its slaves. The hypocrisy has carried on for too long, and we will all lose what we have built. This island belongs to them now and we have no place here. They have truly bought and paid for it. Most don't see that yet. The landowners fight this new future tooth and nail, refusing to believe that this could all be taken away. But it was never ours, whatever lies we told ourselves. Now we are trapped in our delusions. So you see, I have nothing to offer you. I actually have nothing but a name. Nothing here belongs to me—this house, these fields; it's all illusion. The marriage I offer you comes only with illusion."

  "You are not an illusion."

  "I am a man who has spent the last few years at the bottom of a bottle. I have done endless debased things, have lived in such a fashion. They may be the only skills I truly have. Are you sure you want to hitch your wagon to this train?" He walked away from the window and from her. "You should go. I am being selfish bringing you here. I offer you nothing worth having."

  "Then we have nothing. I have nothing either way. I either leave here alone and head off to a future unknown, or I stay with you, but if there is nothing here, then why stay at all? There is no reason to. What stops us from leaving this land to the people who deserve it and simply sail away? What is here for either of us?"

  "Staying would buy some time," he said.

  "Time for what?"

  A chuckle escaped his lips. "Time to hide you away in my lair and forget everything outside."

  Emmeline walked toward him. "We don't need to hide."

  He grew serious again. For each moment of joy, sadness chased not far behind. "I have considered at length some way out of this. There is nothing for me back in England. Penniless lords have few welcomes."

  "Then we will be two tramps heading out into the world, like thousands of others. We'll find something, or we'll find nothing, but we'll have each other. In all the time I spent at the orphanage having nothing, it wasn't fine things I craved. A home isn't walls and a roof. The most pitiful family had more than I did. Their togetherness was the treasure and that is something we can claim so easily. We simply do it."

  A shuddering breath left him and he drew her to him. The length of his body was firm and warm to hers. This was all she had ever wanted. "I have everything I want," she said, reaching her lips up to his. These kisses were all she had ever prayed for. There was a tinge of smoke mixed in, but at that moment, she didn't care. Same as Rose Hill was burning down, so were the vestiges of their pasts.

  A renewed urgency deepened the kiss. His hands shook as they sought the edge of her nightgown, pulling the material clear of her shoulder. Warm kisses traced along the skin and her body sang with luscious sensation.

  "Lady Cresswell," he said quietly. It sounded strange, but it would be a title she would carry with pride.

  "Husband."

  With a firm kiss, he lifted her up and carried her to the bed. Hot breath teased down the skin of her neck and lower. Hands tugged the nightgown down her and his warm mouth closed around her nipple. Emmeline arched into the pleasure of it, aching for more. This was so much headier than the dreams she'd had. There was no comparison. Her insides burned, ached for more.

  Roughly, she knew the mechanics, but not the specifics, and she couldn't wait to know, to experience all there was. This man was hers. She wasn't alone anymore.

  Lips traced lower across her belly, his hand skimming across her hip. Heat settled low in her belly, melting and yearning, while her hands sought the dark curls of his hair. He was hers and she was his. How had she been so lucky? All she had gone through here had led her to him, and for that, she would never regret a single moment.

  Shifting lower, his mouth moved along her thigh, placing kisses as he moved upwards. A deep, aching pulse inside her yearned for him, yearned for more. Already, this was more than she had ever expected, even if she had felt traces of it. Instinctively, she had known this was what she needed. She had felt it the moment his dark eyes had settled on her.

  His mouth closed around her most intimate part and sharp sensations speared through her. She gasped. How could this be? His firm tongue teased, creating impossible heat and tension. He groaned with pleasure, while Emmeline couldn't breathe at all. Her lungs burned, her body quivered and her heart ached. The tension was unbearable. "Please," she begged, but she didn't want him to stop. She needed more.

  The pressure of his tongue returned, kneading until she couldn't do anything but pant, caught in this vortex of pleasure and aching tension. Her thighs drew up around him and she arched, sensation exploding inside her. A rush of pleasure washed over her in powerful waves, robbing her of breath and awareness of anything other than the intense surges. Echoes of them washed over her still as he roamed up her body, seeking her lips again in a deep kiss.

  Her body was languid and the weight of him on her was glorious. She felt safe; she felt loved. His eyes sought hers and she smiled as he kissed her again. Would she ever be able to live without these kisses again? She didn't want to.

  He settled between her thighs, in a closeness she hadn't known before. Hardness pressed to her and she licked her lips, understanding what was to come. It was a closeness she wanted, even if she feared the unknown a little. She trusted him implicitly and wanted this. It could very well result in a child, a family. It hurt to imagine.

  Leaning back, he pulled his shirt off him and bared himself. Her nightgown was gone and soon they were both entirely naked. "It will hurt a little," he said and she nodded. "But only the first time."

  Adjusting his body, she felt pressure to her core, then stinging pain. It hurt, but it wasn't devastating. She truly was his now, had given herself over to him, and they were joined. Carefully, he moved, sinking deeper inside her. It was a curious tightness, and lovely sensations teased.

  Pulling back, he stroked into her with firmness. There was ache, but also the tension she had felt before. It grew with each stroke. There was something very provocative and potent seeing him strain above her, his concentration complete and an ardent expression on his face. His breath was heavy with deep, rhythmic exhales.

  Lowering himself down to her, he wrapped his arms around her. The pleasure of his strokes deepened and Emmeline felt the tension culminate again. Was she hurtling to another explosion like she had felt before? It seemed that way. She hoped so. It had been lovely.

  The strokes became shorter and more erratic, until he ground to her, frozen in intent. Her body drew together around him and the sharp waves of pleasure returned. Fierce breaths rushed out of her lungs, she held him as tightly as she could through this storm. They were together in this, and any storm they would face. Emmeline smiled. This was wonderful; this was her man, her husband. She had never dared hope for him.

  Chapter 33

  Everything out the window seemed peaceful, belying the shocking events of the day before. Rose Hill was no longer there, reduced to a pile of charred debris. Old wounds had come back and torn the family apart. How responsible the Thorntons were for a less than honorable acquisition of Rose Hill, Emmeline didn't dare guess. It didn't justify a murderous campaign.

  To think this man had been there for years, nursing an old grudge and plotting against the family. It made Emmeline shudder. He had hid his evil so well.

  A warm hand ran up her arm and she felt Cresswell's body behind her. Closing her eyes, she leaned back into his embrace as his arm wrapped around her. He kissed her
behind her ear and they simply lay there. "No regrets?" he asked.

  "No," she said. "Except the harm that Hart caused."

  "They will deal with him swiftly. He more or less confessed. I would be surprised if he denies it now. Won't do him much good if he did. Before noon, likely the whole island will know and will be waiting for the governor to act."

  "Did you know him and his family?"

  "No, I must have been very young when he was here. So must he have been. I think I knew about you, though. I suspected who you were."

  Surprised, Emmeline turned around to face him. "You did? When did you realize?"

  "Almost immediately. Mrs. Thornton isn't the kind to have a young and beautiful companion, so it was curious she engaged you. It didn't quite occur to me immediately, but I knew something wasn't right. I knew of you. Harold told me, but then I never saw or heard of you again. I'm sorry to say, but I didn't really think about it further. I was young. Such things didn't register with me."

  "You knew Harold." Emmeline remembered the portrait of the arrogant young man, so pleased with himself and his place in the world. She could well imagine him goading Mr. Hart, the heir to what that man saw as his stolen estate.

  "I knew him well. More than I ever did Percy. We were friends, I suppose. And it turns out that bastard killed him." The tension in Cresswell's body was clear. Emmeline hadn’t realized that he had suffered as well with the Thorntons’ losses.

  "It is awful. To think people could act so despicably."

  Leaning forward, he kissed her and she welcomed it. They lay still in silence for a while. "Were you serious last night? Should we simply just sail away?"

  Turning her head slightly, she kissed his bare arm. "Is there any reason to stay?"

  He didn't answer for a moment. "I suppose I had planned to gracefully go down with the ship. Well, ungracefully in a drunken stupor, perhaps."

  "If you want to stay, I will stay."

  "No, I simply had no reason to leave before. Not sure it occurred to me that I could leave. For some reason, I assumed I was just trapped here—a ghost like so many others. So let's sail."

  "I was considering New York."

  Cresswell was quiet for a moment, then pulled her into a tight embrace. "Shall we be Americans, then?"

  "I always thought I was," she said with a bitter smile. "All my assumptions about myself have been wrong, it seems." How she had yearned to know the truth. Now she knew it all, and it was laced with deception and tragedy. The only thing she didn't know was if there had been any affection between her mother and father. In truth, she wasn't sure if she wanted to know. Either way, there had been betrayal.

  "Then we will leave. I'll go to town and book passage." He rose from the bed and pulled a shirt on.

  Emmeline rose up on her elbow. "I have to return to Rose Hill one last time." It occurred to her that none of her things would be there. They would all have burned, including the book she’d been reading, which was aggreviously annoying as she would now never know how it ended. She chuckled slightly at the superficial concern. Poor Percy and Mrs. Thornton. They had lost all. As had she, but she hadn't really had much to start with, and what she had gained was far more valuable.

  He tugged on her hand. "Then we have much to do, but for all that, how can I possibly leave when you look so lusciously naked." Returning to her on the bed, he kissed her, his weight pressing down on her. Heat ignited inside her again, feeling her body respond against his. This yearning for him didn't seem to wane. Would she want him like this for the rest of her life? She suspected so. This was theirs, no matter what they had.

  Fingers traced down the skin of her back, making her skin contract under his touch. Parting her legs, she brought him closer. She wanted that heat again, that wanton desire, the act where nothing stood between them—where they were joined into one being.

  *

  The remains of Rose Hill house looked monstrous—charred black almost like gnashing, rotted teeth. A smell pervaded from the moment she emerged from the jungle. Funnily, she hadn't feared the jungle this morning. The monsters she had met didn't dwell in the jungle.

  Percy was there, trying to salvage things from the house. He roamed around, picking up blackened objects.

  "I'm sorry," she told him when he looked over to see her.

  He nodded slightly and then returned to the ashes of his family's possession. The worst was that he'd lost the portraits of his father and brothers. That was a particular cruelty inflicted by lighting this fire.

  Percy seemed lost in his own thoughts and grieving. It was understandable. So much of their lives had unraveled last night. No doubt, Mrs. Thornton had taken to bed somewhere. Emmeline recalled the neighbor had offered to take them in.

  "We will rebuild, of course," Percy said after a while. Joseph appeared from behind a charred wall, he nodded to Emmeline.

  If everything Cresswell believed was true, rebuilding would be a bad idea, a fruitless endeavor. Percy was definitely one who refused to believe that this abolition bill would amount to anything. He had said so at supper one evening, so he did know it was there. Emmeline couldn't wish him correct, however. The abolition bill needed to get passed. It would destroy this island, but she agreed with Cresswell, this was all built on a faulty foundation, on values and morals that didn't become them. They deserved to lose it all.

  It wasn't exactly that she was wishing ill on them. It was more like the world needed to right itself from this malfeasanse. No one deserved to prosper from cruelty and injustice. And if they refused to see that, then perhaps they deserved the storm that was to come.

  Technically, this man was her brother—half-brother, but he didn't know it. Undoubtedly, Mrs. Thornton would never tell him, never admit what she'd done. In truth, the Thornton's had enough consequences poured on them for Emmeline to feel the need to add more. If she informed him, he probably wouldn't thank her for revealing his father's activities and the embarrassing consequences. Any injury or resentment she felt had dissipated anyway. There was no consolation for the heart lying in that direction. Mr. Hart more than proved that. All that bitterness building into murderous rage, which destroyed him in the end. What a waste of life all around.

  Walking toward the sugar mill, she again wondered at the fear she'd felt living here. Too afraid to leave the house, fear of stepping out of line. Most of that fear she had absorbed from the people around her. It had been their fear and it had spread like infection. That was perhaps also a consequence of the injustice; a guilty heart bred its own punishment.

  The slave cottages were mostly empty, except for the children and the old. The children stared at her with curiosity, the others throwing wary looks her way. Emmeline continued to the graveyard. The graves were marked with stones or wooden crosses. Searching through the names, she finally found the one for her mother. 'Undine' was carved into a cross that was half rotten away.

  This was her mother's grave. It was sad to admit, but she felt no connection with this woman. She knew not what she looked like, her voice or what she had said. Emmeline knew nothing but her name. But this woman had been heartbroken when she had been sent away and for that she was sorry. It hurt to know that she was responsible for such pain.

  "I am well," she said. "I am in love."

  If she expected a reply, she didn't get one. Nothing but the quiet and the warm tropical breeze. Looking back at the village, she saw the cottages. She had been born in one of those cottages, as had probably her mother. If she'd been allowed to stay, she would have grown up with love, but no free will. A harsh trade to consider. In truth, she would never really know what that meant, could probably never understand. At no point had she ever questioned that her life was her own.

  "I'm sorry you suffered." Emmeline stood there for a while. "And I'm sorry, but I won't be coming back here again."

  Was that a betrayal? She couldn't tell, but she did feel guilty for not feeling a stronger connection with her mother. Twenty years she had been gone. She had lived
here, but had no memories of this place or the woman who had loved her.

  Feeling heaviness in her chest, she left the graveyard, again walking past the cottages. It pleased her to know these people would all be free soon. It was only a matter of time. They simply had to wait, although that was probably easier said than done. She walked past Percy and Joseph, waving to them. Absently, they waved back as they continued tackling their momentous task, unaware she wouldn't come again.

  Chapter 34

  The sea air was brisk and fresh. The salt of the ocean deep in her lungs, Emmeline felt the excitement of the future ahead. Her love stood by her and she leaned into him as he supported them, his hand on the rigging. They were sailing north and both the skies and water were turning more gray every day. She would miss the bright colors in the Caribbean, but their future didn't lie there. In fact, she had no idea what their future would be, but they would be together.

  Technically, they weren't married as his divorce hadn't yet been finalized, wouldn’t be until they received the letter of resolution from the court in the Bahamas, but he referred to her as Lady Cresswell all the same. The title was strange, and didn't suit her at all, but she was more than proud of her husband. He was the most wonderful man she had ever met, and she spent hours pleasurably drowning in his eyes, and the sensations he wrought in her every night.

  She had a trunk of dresses that didn't belong to her, including a ballgown, which she was sure she would never use. But who was she to say what the life of a pauper lady would be like? She didn't care—not a whit—as long as they were together.

  They'd had to wait four days for a ship that sailed to New York. It hadn't been a long wait; they had hardly left the bedchamber. And truth be told, they barely left their cabin even now.