Efia wasn’t dumb enough to think that money was the only thing that could give a person happiness. She knew that the color of her skin would be a disadvantage the rest of her life. But Taye Campbell’s skin was almost the same color, and look how far she had gone.
Efia reminded herself once more of the blue bonnet perched on Taye’s head, then walked through the door of the jailhouse.
A blond soldier with a bushy mustache sat behind a big table, reading a newspaper. He didn’t even look up at her. “Help you?”
Efia glanced over her shoulder at the door, clutching her purse strings with every bit of strength she had. If she walked out now, nobody would be the wiser.
“I said, could I help you?” He glanced over the top of the paper, looking her up and down. Judging her.
“Yeah. I was wonderin’—”
“What’s that?” He lowered the paper to the table, giving Efia his full attention. “You’re goin’ to have to speak up.”
Efia pressed her lips together and met the young soldier’s gaze. “Do y’all pay for information?”
“What kind of information?”
“’Bout crimes. ’Bout crimes people do but don’t get caught.”
She had his attention now. He pressed the palms of his hands to the newspaper. “What kind of crimes?” He turned his head. “Captain Grey, could you come out here?” He looked back to Efia. “You can tell our captain.”
Efia shook her head. “Nope, I got to know how much yer payin’ first.”
“That depends on how serious an offense you’re talking about.” He hooked a thumb. “If you’re talking about stealing hens out of a neighbor’s henhouse, we’ve got no time for that. If you’re talking about real criminal offenses—” he leaned closer “—something can be arranged.”
“I’m talkin’ ’bout a serious crime,” she said, staring him down. “I’m talkin’ ’bout murder.”
At the house, Falcon let Jackson out at the pillared front, then he drove the wagon around to the back to unload the barrels Naomi would use to store the pickles she was making in the summer kitchen. Jackson walked up the steps to the veranda and in the front door. There was no one there, but the house buzzed like a beehive on a warm Sunday afternoon. Voices rose from everywhere, from the kitchen and the ballroom, from upstairs, and even through the open windows. Out on the side veranda, through the parlor, he could see a young boy he did not know sweeping grass clippings.
Jackson walked up the grand staircase, eyeing the place where that magnificent mirror had hung at the head of the stairs. Someone had replaced it with a large oil painting of horses grazing in an open field, but there was a faint fading of the wallpaper that revealed the outline where the mirror had once been. Passing the picture, he remembered the sound of the shattering glass and the feel of his breaking heart.
As Jackson walked down the hall, he squelched the impulse to call out to Cameron. What if she refused to come to him, or worse yet, hurled insults at him? He had no desire to share their problems with a staff the size that Falcon said Jackson was now supporting. At the bedchamber door, he halted. It was slightly ajar. When he listened, he heard movement inside.
“Cameron?” He pushed open the door in time to see the little imposter, Lacy, scramble off the bed. Clutching a schoolchild’s blackboard to her chest, she glared at him with startled eyes.
Jackson looked around, but Cameron wasn’t there. “Where is she?” he demanded.
At least the chit was dressed decently now in a light blue gown covered with yellow flowers. It even looked as if someone had attempted to tame that wild frizzy hair.
Lacy thrust out her lower lip and lifted one thin shoulder. “Don’t know.”
“Don’t tell me that,” Jackson snapped, his words coming out harsher than he intended.
Lacy took a step back.
He halted, realizing he was scaring her. He didn’t like her being here. He didn’t believe her story that she was a Campbell for a moment, but he didn’t want to scare her or harm her, either. She was just a child, a child who had obviously had a difficult life. “I know you know where she is.” He held up his hands to show he would make no move toward her. “Just tell me.”
“Elmwood” was the only word Lacy muttered.
Jackson strode out of the bedchamber. Elmwood. Of course. Where else would she be? How could he have been so foolish as to think she might have been here waiting for him when her precious Elmwood beckoned?
Jackson walked down the grand staircase.
“Jackson, it’s so good to have you home.” Taye smiled, meeting him at the bottom of the staircase. She kissed his cheek and he returned the gesture.
The moment she drew back, her gracefully arched brows furrowed. “Oh, dear, Cameron. I’m sorry. She’s not here. She wanted to be here when you returned, but she had to go out to Elmwood. There was—”
“Of course she did,” he interrupted dryly.
“Jackson, where are you going?” Taye stood at the staircase and watched him cross the front hall that echoed his footsteps.
He yanked open the front door, thinking this was not how he had envisioned his homecoming. “Where do you think?”
“You’re sure everyone is all right?” Cameron climbed over fallen timbers at the barn site, carrying a bucket of water she had drawn from the well to give the tired, dirty workers a drink. As she stepped over the freshly sawed boards, water sloshed up onto the bodice of her apple green gown. The water was cold and felt good, considering the heat.
“Everyone is fine, Miss Cameron.” Noah, shirtless, lifted several timbers that had fallen to the ground and began to stack them neatly. “Now stop worryin’ yerself. Jake, he got a broken leg, and Pouty done wrenched his neck. The rest of ’em got nothin’ but skinned knees and a year of their lifes scared out of ’em. Ain’t nothin’ Naomi can’t set right.”
Cameron halted and lowered the bucket to the ground. The workmen had been putting up the south wall when a piece of timber had apparently snapped. The entire frame of the wall had come tumbling down on top of them. When one of the young boys had arrived at Atkins’ Way to tell her what had happened, no one had known how seriously anyone had been injured. Noah had simply sent for his mistress immediately.
“Look, here, jest like I said.” Noah carried a six-foot-long board to her. “Broke off right at the knot. Them boys shoulda looked over these here boards better before they nailed ’em in.”
Cameron sighed in relief as she watched the last of the workers settle into the wagon Noah would drive them home in. Naomi sat on the tailgate, washing a man’s bloody knee.
Cameron dipped her hand into the bucket and drew it across the back of her neck, savoring the feel of the cold water trickling down her sweaty back. She had ridden here at breakneck speed, the first time she’d been back in the saddle since her miscarriage.
The sound of a horse galloping up the drive made them both turn to see who was approaching.
“Oh, no,” Cameron groaned, recognizing the rider. She smoothed her hair that had tumbled hopelessly from her chignon. “It’s Captain Logan. I completely forgot in all the confusion. His train must have arrived.”
Watching Jackson ride across the barnyard, straight for the new stable, Cameron’s mouth went dry, and she felt tingles of excitement skitter down her spine.
“Good afternoon to ya, Capt’n,” Noah said, lifting his hat as he walked to the wagon to load his toolbox.
“’Bout time you come home,” Naomi muttered.
“You hush, woman,” Noah hissed, waving his hat at her. “Stop yer sassin’.”
Jackson shook his head as he dismounted, then ground-tied his mount. “I understand you’re both doing a fine job keeping everyone in line for me.”
Noah grinned as he walked around the wagon. “Jest doin’ my job, Capt’n. You ready, Naomi?”
“I’m ready. Let’s get these boys home.”
Cameron stood a hundred feet away watching Jackson as the wagon turned and headed
down the drive, leaving them alone. She wanted to lift her skirts and run toward him, wanted to fling herself into his arms and tell her how sorry she was for everything. But her feet wouldn’t move.
It took longer than an eternity for Jackson to finally turn toward her.
Slowly they moved closer.
“You…you’re home,” Cameron stammered.
“Falcon picked me up at the train station.” He lifted one hand and let it fall, halting before he reached her.
She nodded. “I…I wanted to be at the house when you arrived, but—”
“I’m sure you did,” he said sarcastically.
Cameron’s half smile fell and her hackles went up instinctively. “I did!” She looked at him, amber eyes blazing. “You know, I’ve had a lot of responsibility here while you were gone, traipsing all over Tennessee and Alabama and God knows where—” she flung up one hand “—doing God knows what.”
He blinked and looked down, twisting his mouth into a frown. “I could say that I wouldn’t have been in any of those places and you wouldn’t have been here if you hadn’t left Baltimore in the first place.” He paused. “But I won’t say that.”
Cameron wanted to pick up the water bucket and fling it at him. She wanted to grab one of the broken timbers and hit him across his thick head. Instead, she just stood there and stared at him.
Cameron heard Jackson curse under his breath. Cursing her?
“Cameron—”
He held her gaze. His eyes were stormy, but there was something there….
“Jackson…” she whispered.
He pulled her roughly into his arms and she didn’t fight him. “Cameron, Cameron, what are we doing? Is this really the way we want things to be between us?” he groaned. “Is this how we will let it end?”
She couldn’t answer.
Then, God bless him, Jackson lifted her chin and covered her mouth with his.
26
Jackson caught Cameron around her waist and pulled her against him. The pressure of her mouth, the scent of her skin, was so intoxicating that he felt dizzy, as if he had consumed glass after glass of scotch.
“Jackson,” she murmured as she parted her sweet lips.
He wanted to say he was sorry for what he had done, for how he had acted, but the words wouldn’t come. He could only murmur her name. “Cameron. I’ve missed this.”
Missed her, or missed her in his arms? Cameron wondered. She knew they were two different things. She would have asked, but Jackson thrust his hot tongue into her mouth and she closed her eyes, relishing the taste of him. Right now, she would take him any way she could get him.
As Jackson kissed Cameron, his hand spanned her hip and then closed around her tiny waist. It was hard for him to believe that she had carried his child. Did he dare hope she could do so again?
Cameron leaned into him, encouraging him, and he slid his hand upward to cup her breast.
She moaned.
In so many ways, Jackson did not understand this woman who was his wife, but he understood her body. He understood her needs, perhaps because they were so like his own. He massaged her breast through the layers of her gown and underclothing and she thrust one long, lean leg between his thighs.
It was Jackson who moaned this time as she rubbed her knee against the bulge in his breeches that grew with every passing second. “Do you want to go into the house?” he panted, knowing he wouldn’t be able to wait until they returned home to consummate this passion.
“We don’t have to. No one is here but us.” She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth down to hers again. “Love me, Jackson,” she whispered.
There was a desperation in her voice that brought a tightness to his chest. “Always,” he muttered, dragging his mouth over her chin, down the length of her neck to the damp, hot valley between her breasts.
Somehow, it seemed right to Jackson to make love here at Elmwood, in the place where the stable would be rebuilt. This was who his Cameron had been, who she would always be, no matter where she went or what she did.
Her gown was wet with water, and it felt cool alongside his cheek, against the heat of her bare skin as he pulled at the bodice of the thin summer fabric.
Cameron reached around to the back of her gown and tugged at the buttons, her breath heavy in his ear. She loosened her bodice to offer him better access to her breasts, and he stroked her creamy flesh greedily.
She cradled his head as he nuzzled, and he was rewarded with a tip of rosy flesh. He laved her nipple and she moaned in encouragement, thrusting her hips against him.
Cameron grasped the lapels of his coat and pushed it off, dropping it carelessly to the grass. She tugged at his starched shirt until she pulled it from the rear of his cambric trousers. Then she slipped her hands beneath the linen shirt. Her fingertips found the small of his back and sent tiny pulses of pleasure rippling over his bare skin.
She swayed in his arms. “We’re going to fall,” she said.
“We won’t.” He opened his eyes to find her laughing.
Still encircling him in her arms, she sank to her knees in a puddle of green lawn and crisp white petticoats, pulling him down with her.
The sun was setting in the east over the lines of swaying elm and oak trees, but the grass was still warm from its radiance and its heat seemed to seep into his very bones.
Jackson lowered his head over hers and drew in her amber eyes. One at a time, he pulled the bone pins from her hair and let them fall to the soft grass around them. He ran his fingers through her thick, glossy tresses until it was a curtain of red tumbling over her shoulders.
She rested her forehead against his chin and slid her hand over his thigh, taking her time. He groaned as her fingertips brushed the swell of his loins.
“You said you missed me,” she breathed, tipping her head back to look up at him. “Is this what you’ve missed?”
“Yes…”
“And this?” She slid her practiced hand lower and brought it up to cup his soft flesh, making him tremble all over.
It suddenly occurred to Jackson that if he was not careful, he would end this encounter long before Cameron’s needs were met. He forced himself to brush her hand aside, and he lay on his back on his coat, pulling her down with him.
Cameron stretched out over his chest and pressed her hipbones to his, grinding against him.
“Tease,” he grunted as, in one motion, he flipped her over and changed places with her.
She flung her hands back over her head and stretched like a cat, gazing up at him with heavy-lidded amber eyes. Grabbing handfuls of bright grass, she threw them at him and they were both showered in green clippings. A piece fell in his hair and she caught it between her fingers, laughing.
“Like this,” he told her quietly, “with your hair down, and this mischievous smile on your lips—” he traced her pouting mouth with his forefinger “—you look seventeen again.”
“But I know so much more than I did when I was seventeen,” she purred. She took his fingertip into her mouth and sucked on it, then bit down playfully.
With a growl of desire, Jackson grasped her arms and pressed them into the soft grass over her head. Holding her down, with one hand on both her wrists, he pushed her bodice off her shoulder and took one hardened nipple between his teeth. He tugged gently and then teased its very tip with the point of his tongue.
Hot, tingling desire pulsed through Cameron’s veins as she pulled her arms from Jackson’s grasp to run her fingers through his thick dark hair and guide his mouth to her other breast.
Cradling her in one arm, he rolled onto his side, taking her with him so that they faced each other. Jackson’s mouth twisted hungrily against hers and she drew a finger downward from his chest, over his belly to the waistband of his trousers, where his shirt had been pulled free. The tip of her finger traced the narrow line of dark hair that disappeared beneath the cambric.
“Touch me, Cam,” he encouraged and then he glanced up. H
e found her smiling at him, a tenderness in her eyes that he desperately needed. Still holding his gaze, she unfastened his trousers and slid her hand beneath the straining fabric. He shuddered as she grasped him firmly, her hand hot and sure, and he let his eyelids close.
Cameron stroked Jackson rhythmically, slowing when his breath came too quickly, then increasing the speed of her caress again when he had settled. She teased his senses until her own soared, until she thought she could not bear another moment without feeling him deep inside her.
“Jackson,” she whispered.
He knew what she wanted. He gently pushed her hand aside and grasped the hem of her gown. His fingers trailed her pale inner thigh and she felt herself melting into the warm grass. She held her breath, her skin tingling in anticipation, as he slid his hand closer to the place that now throbbed, damp with desire for him.
At last he cupped the bed of bright red curls with the palm of his hand and she raised her hips to meet that caress. “Come to me,” she begged, parting her legs, her voice strained and throaty.
Jackson covered her body with his again and the force of his hardened member against her bare leg made her moan aloud. He took her in one motion. A shudder went through her and she cried out, tightening her fingers on his shoulders. One stroke, just one, and she was already tumbling in bright peaks of pleasure.
Jackson stilled for a moment, allowing her to catch her breath and acclimate herself. Then he began to move again, knowing just how she liked to be stroked. He varied his rhythm and the length of his caress, teasing her, taunting her, until she writhed beneath him.
He arched his back and caught the hard, erect peak of her breast in his mouth. She cried out again, this climax even harder. She felt every muscle in her body tighten, then relax, then tighten again as pulses of pleasure surged through every fiber of her being.
Jackson lowered his head over Cameron’s and kissed her tear-stained cheeks. He brushed a ringlet of hair off her forehead and kissed the spot where it had been.
Cameron opened her heavy-lidded eyes and drank in his smile. Then she raised her hips to his and he began to move again. Staring up into his dark-pooled gray eyes, she lifted her hips again and again, feeling how close he was to fulfillment, hearing it in his breath. Suddenly she felt herself balance on the edge once more. She tried to hold back, but she couldn’t. She wrapped her arms around Jackson’s neck and pulled him hard against her…deeper.
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