Return to Me

by Rosemary Rogers

  “Hurry, miss,” Addy said. “Miss Taye, she truly here.”

  Cameron wiped her ink pen and tucked it safely into a drawer, then rose swiftly from her chair. “Oh, goodness. Taye, at last. I thought she’d never get here!”

  Taye, who was six years younger, had been Cameron’s constant companion while they were growing up in Mississippi. She was the daughter of Elmwood plantation’s housekeeper. But Sukey, a freed slave, had been so much more than a housekeeper. After the death of Cameron’s mother when she was seven, Sukey had become Cameron’s surrogate mother. And it was not until four years ago, after the death of her father, that Cameron and Taye discovered they had been raised as sisters because they were sisters. Cameron’s father, Senator David Campbell, was also Taye’s father.

  Cameron licked her fingertips and tried to smooth a wayward red curl. “Hopeless,” she muttered and then hurried off for the front hall.

  “Cameron!” Taye burst in the door in a gay cloud of pink silk and taffeta. Taye was a picture of beauty, as she had always been. With rich, honey-colored skin, dark, silky hair and shocking pale blue eyes, she was a striking young woman.

  Cameron threw out her arms and hugged her tightly. “I can’t believe you’re here at last,” Cameron cried. “Let me get a look at you.” She took Taye’s hand and spun her around as if she were her dance partner.

  Taye turned gracefully on heeled slippers, tilting her head just so to show off her new straw-and-pink tulle traveling bonnet. As she spun on the black-and-white marble-tiled floor, she tapped her parasol.

  “Heavens, you’re beautiful and you’ve traveled hundreds of miles.” Cameron smoothed her hair selfconsciously. “And look at me, a wreck, and I’ve not left the house today.”

  Taye linked her arm through Cameron’s and leaned closer. “So is what you suspected true?”

  Cameron nodded excitedly.

  “Oh, Cam. I’m so happy for you and Jackson.” Her blue eyes danced with pleasure. “And how are you feeling?”

  “Fit as a fiddle, of course.” She led Taye down the hall. “Addy, could you send someone to the garden with refreshments?”

  “I will, Missy Cameron. I surely will. Cook’s made those raisin scones you like so well.”

  The two women walked down the long hallway and out onto the rear summer porch of the mansion, then Cameron led Taye across the lawn to a small table in the shade of an ancient oak tree.

  “This garden is lovely.” Taye smiled when she heard the soft splash of water. In the nearby fountain, twin marble cherubs holding pitchers poured an unending stream of water into a circular pool below them.

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Cameron answered. “This garden is really the only thing I love about the house.”

  “It is impressive and rather…” Taye searched for the right word. “Rather…”

  “Overdone,” Cameron said. They both laughed. “You know me, I always was hopeless at Greek.”

  Taye’s eyes sparkled with warmth. “And how is he? Handsome as ever?”

  “He’s fine.” She made a face. “Though how I would know that, I’m not certain. He barely blows through here on his way from one business engagement to another.”

  Cameron watched Taye remove her bonnet and gloves with graceful, ladylike movements. She couldn’t help noticing that her sister moved with a refined air of confidence she hadn’t shown in her younger years.

  During the war years, Taye had lived with Campbell family friends in New York City. Because her mother had been a slave and Taye was considered a Negro, even though her father was white, it hadn’t been safe for her to live south of the Mason-Dixon line. Cameron had visited Taye regularly and certainly noticed small differences in her sister’s demeanor, but in her mind, Taye was still seventeen, doting on her, always in her shadow. Cameron had the suspicion that this elegant young woman before her would walk in no one’s shadow now.

  “Jackson is just never home,” Cameron confessed. “We barely see each other except in bed, and then talk is the last thing that interests him.”

  Taye giggled, but her cheeks didn’t color as they once would have at the mention of sexual relations. “And you’re complaining about that? Most wives would give their eye-teeth for such a handsome, attentive husband.” She softened. “Especially now, when so many good men have died.”

  “No, of course I’m not complaining that he still desires me.” Cameron struggled to explain. “It’s just that so much time has passed since we married. I do love Jackson and he certainly loves me, but I somehow thought things would be—” She hesitated. “I don’t know…different.”

  “Give him time.” Taye reached across the table to squeeze Cameron’s hand. “Give yourself time.”

  A serving girl dressed from head to toe in white walked out into the grass carrying a tray of fresh lemonade, the promised scones and tiny iced sponge cakes.

  “Thank you, Martha,” Cameron said. “I’ll serve. You can go back to what you were doing.”

  Martha grinned, dipped a curtsy and retreated into the house.

  Cameron stood to pour Taye’s lemonade.

  “Oh, goodness,” Taye said, coming to her feet and taking the blown-glass pitcher out of her sister’s hands. “Sit down and let me do that.”

  “I don’t need to be catered to.” Cameron sat down hard in her chair. “For heaven’s sake, it’s a baby I’m carrying, not a disease.”

  “Of course.” Taye began to pour the lemonade. “It’s just that I want to do this for you, Cam. I know I can never repay you and Jackson for all you’ve done for me, but at least give me these small satisfactions.”

  Cameron took a linen napkin from the silver tray and reached for one of the sweets on the plate. Though she was not even far enough along in her pregnancy to show, she found herself constantly hungry. At this rate, she’d be the size of a heifer before the child saw the light of day.

  “Have you heard from Thomas?” Cameron licked white sugar icing from her fingertips.

  Taye passed her a glass of lemonade and took her seat again. “Yes, I received a letter just before I left New York. He’ll be here within the week.”

  Cameron slanted her eyes mischievously. “And how soon after he arrives will we be hearing wedding bells?”

  Thomas Burl had been Senator Campbell’s attorney. He had been sweet on Taye in the months before the war fell upon the South, and before she escaped safely to New York, he had made his feelings known to her. They had promised to marry at the end of the war, if their feelings remained the same, and had kept in regular contact over the years. Though Thomas was quiet and reserved, he had a good heart and he loved Taye—and she loved him.

  Taye’s lovely, sun-kissed skin pinkened in pleased embarrassment. “I’ve barely seen him in the last year. Perhaps his intentions have changed.”

  Cameron sipped her lemonade and laughed. “And perhaps he’s grown hair on that balding head of his, too.” She glanced sideways at her sister. “Of course he intends to marry you. I have a feeling that’s precisely why he asked Jackson if he could come here to stay for a while. He wants to court you, but he has no relatives nearby to live with.”

  “I’m thankful Jackson will have us.”

  “You’re my sister, Taye. Of course he’ll have you. Or there will be hell to pay from me.” Cameron took another sip from her glass. “Anyway, I’m so glad to have you here. Jackson announced this morning that we’ll be having a ball for three hundred in less than two weeks.”

  Taye’s bright blue eyes widened. “Three hundred? My goodness!”

  “It’s a welcome home ball for Union officers. Apparently Jackson and Mr. Ulysses S. Grant are well acquainted.”

  “Well then, I arrived just in time, didn’t I? Leave everything to me. Baltimore and our newly returned officers will have a ball the likes of which they have never seen before.” She cut her blue eyes to Cameron. “Mississippi style.”

  “There you are, Jackson.” Marie LeLaurie rose from her chair in a cozy corn
er of the intimate restaurant and presented her cheek. She was dressed stylishly, as always, in a rich red silk gown that transformed her thick wealth of stunning black hair and creamy olive skin from merely lovely to exquisite.

  “Marie.” Jackson glanced around to be sure he saw no one he knew before joining her. He kissed her smooth cheek that smelled of a French cologne he knew she had specially blended for her in Paris.

  “You’re late,” she chastised. “I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

  He took the seat across from her.

  “Wine?”

  He shook his head.

  “But it’s an excellent burgundy.” She pursed her red-stained lips, lips he had once brushed his own against, and pouted. “I know you like burgundy. Should I order something else?”

  “No. No, this will be fine.” He watched as she poured the wine. “Marie, I cannot stay long. My wife—”

  “She will be jealous?” Marie teased, coquettishly.

  “What I was going to say is that my wife is expecting our first child, and I would like to get back to Baltimore tonight, however late.”

  “A papa!” She laughed and tipped her wine glass to his in toast. Her voice was as rich as the wine she drank. “Congratulations. You will be a good father, I think, Jackson.”

  “Seward says you have information for me.” He glanced up from the table again.

  In the restaurant, there was only one other couple dining and they were elderly; they paid no mind to the man and woman who could well have been on an assignation…or meeting to pass on secret information vital to the government. Marie had picked the perfect place to meet, and in truth, she made the perfect spy. She was beautiful and she was brilliant, yet always unthreatening. Men naturally trusted her, believing no woman so lovely could possibly betray them.

  “Jackson, Jackson,” she chastised. “You are always all work and no play.” She made a clicking sound between her even white teeth. “You really should enjoy life more, as I do.” She tossed her head, and her long, dark hair sailed as if on a windswept beach. “Life is too short,” she whispered with those mesmerizing red lips.

  He leaned back in his chair, mentally trying to distance himself from Marie. He had Cameron to think about. His child. He loved Cameron, loved her desperately. And he loved their unborn baby. He’d not let his attraction to Marie allow him to make a mistake that could cost him his marriage. He had already made that mistake once and vowed it would never happen again.

  “I haven’t much time, Marie. Just tell me what you know.” He glanced at the elderly couple again. All he needed was for a gossiping dowager who knew Cameron from the Women’s League to see him here alone with Marie. “We really shouldn’t be seen in public together, anyway. I know too many people here in Washington and too many know me.”

  She lifted the glass of ruby wine to her ruby lips. “Then the next time I will be sure we meet in a place that is more private,” she purred.

  Several nights later, Jackson walked up behind Cameron where she was standing in front of the gilded mirror in their bedchamber. He placed his splayed hands on her hips, leaning over and grazing her bare shoulder with his lips. “You look tired,” he murmured. “Are you certain you’re up to this?”

  Cameron trembled at his sensual caress. They’d begun making love before they were married, during the first days of the war when Cameron’s whole life was crumbling at her feet. Her father was dead; her despicable brother, Grant, was selling off the family plantation piece by piece and trying to marry her off. Physical lovemaking with Jackson had always been good, but since his return, it had been even better. His touch, his heated glances, set her aflame, so much so it troubled her that Jackson should have such control over her body. Over her emotions. All she had to do was bring up a subject he deemed unpleasant, and he immediately began to woo her with scorching kisses and damnable roguish charm. She knew what her husband was doing, and yet, he had only to stroke her with hard, lean fingers and whisper sweet, wicked words into her ear and she tumbled helplessly into his trap every time.

  Cameron studied Jackson’s reflection in the mirror as he remained bent over her, watching her. He was as handsome as ever, as dashing as ever. While some men had returned from the war mere shadows of themselves, Jackson had thrived in the turmoil and danger of the last four years. If anything, despite the tiny lines on his forehead, he was even more devilishly attractive than he had been in his younger years. He was what any Southern woman would have considered a great catch—staggeringly wealthy and highly respected. Now there was even talk of him running for a political office. He was everything a woman could hope for in a man.

  But was it all too good to be true? When they had first married and Cameron came to live in Baltimore, there had been whispers that their marriage would never last. That the handsome captain was not a man meant to be tied down to a single woman. Her gaze flickered to his as he waited for her reply.

  Had they been right?

  The very thought put her on edge, turning her nerves raw. “Roxy was down with colic,” she said.

  The blooded Arabian mare had been a gift from her father for her twenty-second birthday. Her brother had sold the horse, but Jackson managed to locate the mare and have her shipped to Baltimore. “She’s better now, but it was a long day.” Cameron plucked at the hair that framed her face.

  Taye had been in earlier to help her dress and create her elaborate coiffure for the evening. Tonight they were dining in celebration of Thomas Burl’s arrival.

  “I thought you weren’t going to go to the barn every day.” Jackson kissed her neck, still watching her in the mirror.

  She shrank at his touch, moving away from the mirror. “I never said I wasn’t going every day,” she protested. Walking to a rosewood table, she opened a black lacquered box from the Orient and removed a pair of pearl earrings. “You said that. I had to go today. Didn’t you hear me? Roxy was ill. She could have died.”

  His gray eyes were instantly stormy. “Look, Cameron, I understand how important those damned horses were to you when I was gone. But I’m home now. You don’t need to spend every waking moment at that farm. It’s really not appropriate. Why have the herd at all? God knows we don’t need the money.”

  “Why have the herd at all?” she challenged. “Maybe because it’s the only tangible thing I have left of my home. Of my father.”

  He sighed. “All right, so keep the horses. But you’re really not needed at the farm every day. I want you here, in our home. You’re my wife and this is where you belong now.”

  “So you can come and go as you please? And what would you have me do?” She pushed the second earring into her earlobe and whirled around to face him. “Sit around all day and wait for you to come home from the shipyards or one of your secret meetings in Washington? What about the day Taye arrived? I waited for you that night and you didn’t come home. Not until three in the morning.”

  “I sent you a telegram. I ended up having to hire a coach. I explained—”

  “You didn’t explain anything. You only said you would be late.”

  He groaned impatiently. “I have a great deal of business to take care of. Four years is a long time to be gone, Cam. Even with Josiah to look after—”

  “That night had nothing to do with your business,” she snapped. “So don’t tell me that it did. You were in Washington. Again.”

  He paused, then spoke. “Just because the fighting is over, that doesn’t mean the war is over. The South is literally smoldering. I still have a duty to fulfill.”

  She lowered her hands to her hips. “And exactly when will that duty be fulfilled? The soldiers who survived are home with their wives and children.” She stared at him pointedly. “When are you coming home, Jackson? When will the war be over for us?”

  “When it’s over,” he answered stiffly. “When my service is no longer required by my country.”

  “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Simply breed?”

  “There
are plenty of household matters for you to manage here.” He gestured. “The ball for instance. Surely there’s a great deal of preparation.”

  “Surely there is, for a ball you planned without first asking me,” she snapped. “Just like the dinner parties you plan without asking me. The men you bring home for supper without warning. The household staff you hire and fire without so much as a glance my way.”

  “Cameron—”

  “And now that Taye is here, your little plan is complete. I’m of no use to anyone. Taye has come in and taken over planning the ball, with your blessing apparently. All I’ve had to do was choose the color of the table linens and point to which midnight buffet I prefer. Jackson, she even ordered a gown for me!”

  “I’m sure she’s only trying to be helpful. Taye is a very capable young woman.”

  “Of course she is. But so I am. I just don’t like being treated this way. By you or Taye. It’s as if everyone suddenly thinks I’m made of spun sugar with the brains of a mouse. What am I supposed to do all day if I can’t go see my horses, and Taye is running the household?”

  He shrugged. “How should I know what gentlewomen occupy themselves with? Can’t you take up needlepoint or—”

  “Don’t you dare talk to me about such nonsense. Don’t you dare!” Cameron found herself fighting tears of fury. “I despise sewing. I cannot bear being treated as if I were an ornament. Am I supposed to sit here in this museum of a house with nothing to do but walk from room to room and wish I was home?”

  Jackson jerked his black frock coat off the back of a chair and scowled at her. “You are home now.”

  “My home is in Mississippi,” she said softly, not knowing if she wanted to cry or break something over his head.

  He paused as he slid his long arms into the sleeves of the new coat. When he spoke again, his tone had softened. “No, not anymore.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. Why was she crying all the time? She had cried more since Jackson came home than she had the whole time he’d been gone. “You said we would talk about this.”

  “And we will.” He draped his arm over her shoulder. “But not tonight. Our guests are waiting.”