The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2

by Patricia Hagan

  There was more gunfire, and Jerome laughed. “No, that old nigger is probably miles from here by now, running as hard as he can to get as far away as possible. That’s your livestock my men are shooting, my dear, and your chickens, and anything else that breathes. They will destroy everything. We had planned to burn you out tonight before you attempted to intervene. It was all part of the plan, as punishment for harboring that outlaw.”

  “Oh, dear God,” she murmured, her heart constricting with pain as she watched the house explode in a final shower of sparks and hungry licking flames. Covering her face with her hands, she could watch no longer. Everything was gone now. There was nothing left. Here, in the dead of winter, her home was burned to the ground, the livestock dead. Nothing left. It was over.

  “Danton…” One of his men came charging back down the path, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Riders coming down the road fast. That nigger must’ve found help. We gotta get outa here, fast. We dropped the body. No time for that now. Gotta cut through the swamps…”

  The others were scattering. Jerome was swinging himself up behind the man, upon the horse’s rump. They were one mount short due to the one Jacob had taken. In the illumination of the smoldering house, the flames still licking against the night sky, the two retreating forms were a perfect target. Kitty moved fast, despite the pain racking her body.

  Her hands closed on the gun that had been knocked from her earlier. There was not much time to take aim, for they were moving toward the woods and the swamps beyond at a rapid pace. But she was an accurate shot, and she bore down and squeezed the trigger, and one more shot exploded in the night. A scream pierced the air. The horse kept moving. They disappeared into the forest…but one was injured. She hoped it was Jerome Danton. She prayed he was dead, his black soul on the way to burn forever in hell.

  “Nolie…” Kitty gasped as another pain bore down upon her. The baby was coming. Dear Lord, the baby was about to be born. “Nolie, you’ve got to help me. Please…” She groped her way along the frozen ground, moving slowly on her hands and knees. Reaching the old Negro woman, she looked down at the face illuminated by the glow of the raging fire beyond.

  Nolie did not move, even when Kitty reached out to slap her face gently. What could she do, here, alone, with her baby about to be born? And it was cold. Oh, precious God, it was so cold. She and the baby would both freeze to death. Where was Jacob? And why couldn’t she rouse Nolie? She prayed for strength to crawl into one of the shacks. There, at least, she would have shelter for the night, and she could only hope to endure the agony of labor and stay conscious to bring the baby into the world herself.

  Suddenly voices pierced the air above the sound of horses’ hooves crunching into the frozen earth. “The shot came from back here. Hey, over there. I see bodies.”

  Kitty wrapped her arms protectively around her swollen, contracting stomach as she rolled over onto her back. The pain was swooping down like an eagle in pursuit of its prey. “Help me,” she cried feebly. “My baby…help my baby…”

  Someone was bending over her, smoothing her hair back from her brow. “It’s going to be all right, Kitty. I’ll take care of you. Trust me, please…”

  Her eyes fluttered open. Everything was blurry, there in the strange red glow of night. Sweet oblivion begged to take her away from the nightmare, the pain.

  She struggled to focus her eyes. The man’s face glowed orange in the light from the burning house and barn. For one precious moment, she saw eyes the color of steel. Her heart raced. Travis. He had returned, just as she always knew he would. But then, painfully, the gray faded, and she saw two fiery black eyes staring down at her beneath thick brows.

  She saw the cleft in his chin, the neatly clipped moustache.

  And she allowed oblivion to engulf her. For it was Corey McRae who scooped her gently into his arms and carried her to his horse.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Corey McRae stood before the marble fireplace, his hands folded behind his back as he gazed into the crackling flames. Above the mantel hung the portrait of himself that he had commissioned a Pennsylvania artist to paint. The expression in the oil-stroked face was much like the one Corey wore at the moment—pensive, cold. A look of power and confidence shone in the piercing black eyes.

  The first rays of dawn streaked across the imported Persian rug, casting a bluish-purple hue upon the vivid scarlets and golds and yellows. The room smelled of lemon oil. His servants knew that every piece of the fine mahogany furniture was to be hand-rubbed and polished to a glossy sheen every day. He would tolerate no disarray in his house or in his life.

  His gaze moved from the red flames to survey the beauty of this, his personal parlor. He loved the thick velvet drapes, a rich purple. He felt it gave him an air of royalty. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and the white brocade sofas accented the splendor of the decor.

  Beautiful, he thought, and smiled. This room, the whole mansion, the entire plantation, his hundreds and hundreds of acres of land, all splendid and beautiful. He had come a long way!

  He was a happy man—except for two things.

  He turned his gaze back to the fire, eyes glittering with anger and impatience. Jethro and Carl had not returned since he had sent them to kill Coltrane. That was months ago. There had been no word. He had sent out other men to find out what had happened, but they had returned dumbfounded, unable to learn anything. Coltrane had not returned either. That was a good sign. Perhaps there had been a gun battle with everyone killed. Fine. Then he did not risk being implicated in the killing.

  He stared upward. His other goal lay in a bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He wanted Kitty Wright for his wife. But he did have his pride. He was not going to beg her. He wanted her totally submissive. There were many things he wanted to do to that spirited flesh. When he took her to bed, he wanted her docile, ready to grant his every wish, no matter how strange it might be.

  But he also wanted her to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with him. He thought of the little trunk he kept hidden in the back of his bedroom closet, the devices that could bring pain and pleasure simultaneously. He would spread-eagle her upon his bed, tying her legs apart as far as possible, and then he would do the things to her body he had dreamed of doing. He would turn her on her knees, and lift her buttocks to him, and his organ would penetrate her from the rear, like an animal, and she would love it and beg him to do it again and again.

  The throbbing between his legs was becoming unbearable. As much as he hated to satiate himself upon Nancy, he had to have relief. Stepping to a bell cord, he rang for a servant. Within seconds, the door to the parlor opened. Without turning around, he snapped, “Bring Mrs. Stoner to me at once.”

  “Uhhh, Miz Stoner, she say she gonna stay in her room till Miz Wright out of the house.” The Negro servant spoke fearfully. “She say—”

  “I don’t give a damn what Mrs. Stoner said,” Corey’s voice cracked like a whip. “I want her brought to me immediately, even if you have to carry her. And you can tell her she will regret it if she does not comply at once.”

  “Yassuh.” The door closed with a quiet click.

  He began removing his clothes, tossing them carelessly upon one of the sofas. Nancy was a despicable bitch, and he was anxious for the day when he could turn her out of the mansion for good. She did, however, have a nicely shaped body, and she did give in to his every whim, wanting only to satisfy his lust. But she was quite blunt about her intentions. She was not content to be his mistress. She wanted to be Mrs. Corey McRae, and he had no intention of marrying her.

  The door opened, and he turned to see Nancy standing there, her face an angry mask, eyes glittering. She was fully clothed. Damn, he thought in exasperation, she should have known what he wanted. He summoned her only when he wanted sex. She should have put on her dressing gown. “Take your clothes off,” he snarled impatiently, his eyes flicking over her. “And be quick about it.”

  Nancy’s smile was mocking. “What’s the
matter, Corey? Have you become aroused over the mere thought of having that bitch upstairs? Do you actually think you are going to take out your passion on me? I have pride, you know, and I will not tolerate—”

  He was across the room almost before Nancy realized he was moving. With one quick jerk of his powerful hands, her gown was ripped to her waist. He continued tearing until she stood before him naked, and then he threw her roughly to the floor.

  “How dare you…” she cried indignantly, wrestling against his caresses as he squeezed her breasts painfully.

  “I won’t have it, Corey. I won’t let you take me this way.”

  He slapped her hard. Stunned, she could only lie there as he grasped her knees and yanked them apart, plunging into her roughly. He wanted only satisfaction, as quickly as possible. Kitty’s breasts were the ones he wanted to kiss and suckle. Kitty’s lips should be melding against his. Now he wanted only to empty himself of the gnawing desire.

  Kitty…Kitty…Kitty…his brain screamed as he thrust his hips to and fro, pummeling his organ into the woman lying on the floor, helpless. It was not long in coming, the sudden rush from his loins that exploded to leave him spent. He opened his eyes to look down at Nancy’s cold, angry face, and he wished with all his being that Kitty were lying beneath him, staring back with love.

  He got up and began dressing hurriedly, mumbling to Nancy that she could go.

  “Oh, I can, can I?” She leaped to her feet indignantly. “You call me in here like a…a servant, and then you rip my clothes off and throw me on the floor and rape me.”

  “Rape you?” he snorted contemptuously. “No man ever had to rape you, Nancy. You were merely angry and wanted to play games, that’s all. Now go. I want to be alone.”

  “I will not leave until I have had my say. I want that woman out of this house. I may be just your mistress and not your wife, Corey, but I am due some respect. Everyone knows what she is. How dare you bring shame upon this house by allowing her to give birth to her bastard here? How could you do it?”

  “I don’t owe you any explanation for what I do, Nancy.”

  “I refuse to remain here as long as she is here.”

  They faced each other, both incensed to the point of trembling. “I want you out of my house,” Corey said in a harsh whisper. “I want you out within an hour. Kitty has had a rough time of it, and she is very weak and will need much time to regain her strength. Having you about can only cause tension.”

  “Because I make no secret of the fact that I despise her?” Nancy gave her long hair a defiant toss. “I have my reasons.”

  “Yes, yes, I have heard your reasons,” Corey said wearily. “Now will you just go?”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You are serious? You are actually telling me to leave this house after I have been your mistress all these months? How dare you, Corey McRae, to treat me so shabbily? I demand respect…”

  “Nancy, I never promised you anything. I did not even invite you to come here and live with me. It just happened. You kept staying and staying, and the next thing I knew, you’d had your things moved in and become a permanent fixture, or so you thought. I never had any intentions of having you stay here forever. The time has come for you to leave. It’s that simple.”

  “Simple?” she screeched, her face contorting with rage. “You call it simple to just kick me out because that bitch lies upstairs, making herself at home? What will my friends think? How can I face people when they learn that I was tossed aside for Kitty Wright? She has caused me scorn for the last time. I won’t stand for it, Corey. I swear to you I won’t.”

  She began to pace up and down the room, unconcerned that she was still naked. “First she took Nathan from me, even though he loved me. He was only a man, young and anxious to sow his seed. Kitty gave him favors that no decent young lady would think of bestowing outside of matrimony. She drove him crazy, as only a trollop knows how to do to a man.”

  He walked over to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy. Tossing it down unceremoniously, he whirled about to face the wide-eyed, staring woman who stood before him naked.

  “I’ll tell you what I believe, Nancy. I believe that Nathan Collins never loved you, that it was Kitty he wanted, and with good reason. Not only is she beautiful, but she is a lady. High-spirited, I will be the first to admit, but she has a quality you wouldn’t understand. I’ve heard other stories, too, from Rebel soldiers who were at Bentonville, and they say that Nathan was actually deserting his men, kidnapping Kitty to head for Virginia where he thought he could escape the rest of the war. I have heard, also, that he shot Kitty’s father in the back. Captain Coltrane just happened along at the right time, and he took revenge for a man he admired greatly. I believe Nathan was a coward, Nancy.

  “And”—he paused to smile—”who are you to condemn Kitty for giving herself to a man outside of marriage when you do the same thing yourself? I have also heard that your husband is not really dead, as you would have everyone believe. That makes you an adulteress, my dear, which is much worse than what you condemn Kitty for having done. She did not betray a husband.”

  Nancy paled. “David is dead,” she spoke in a barely audible whisper. “I don’t know who has been telling you lies, but he is dead.”

  “Did you ever receive official notice from the Confederate Army?”

  “Many men are missing in action. No one knows what happened to them. David is dead. I know he is.”

  “Have you bothered to inquire? I think not. You see, my sweet, I heard that he returned home an amputee, and you were repulsed. The fool loved you, and he was heartbroken when you rejected him. So he returned to the war. It’s said that he is living in the mountains with an old couple who lost their son in the war and adopted David.”

  “I don’t know where David is,” she said flatly. “Nor do I care. As far as I am concerned, he is dead.”

  He poured himself another glass of brandy, sipping it slowly as his eyes raked over her body. She was not unattractive, but she had a vicious, ugly way about her. He found her quite unbearable at times. “Would you please go?” he said quietly. “I wish to bathe and dress and go in to see Kitty. She will rest more comfortably when she learns that you are out of the house.”

  Suddenly Nancy’s face contorted with pain, and tears sprang to her eyes. She threw herself on her knees before him, wrapping her arms about his legs, and cried, “Please, Corey, don’t send me away. I love you. I love you more than my life. I want to marry you and be with you always. I’ll do anything you want, anything you say, but please don’t send me away. I can’t live without you.”

  He felt no pity. She had known her position in his life, and he had never promised her anything. True, she tried in every way to satisfy his sexual desires, no matter how painful or vicious they might be at times. Never had she complained. It was her possessiveness that he found so difficult, that and her fanatical hatred of the woman he adored.

  He set down his brandy glass, then pushed her aside and walked over to pull the ball cord. She was sobbing, beating her fists on the floor hysterically. “I won’t leave you, Corey. I won’t let her take advantage of you. I have to stay to protect you. You’ll see I’m right…”

  “Yassuh?” The Negro servant, dressed neatly in the red coat and white pants that Corey required, looked at his master and not at the screaming, naked woman writhing on the floor. He deliberately kept his eyes averted.

  “Get some of the women servants to pack Mrs. Stoner’s belongings,” Corey’s voice boomed as he walked past the Negro and out of the parlor. “Have one of my carriages take her to the hotel in town and pay the bill for a week. After that, she is on her own.”

  “I’m not leaving!” Nancy screamed, reaching to grab the bottle of brandy from the sideboard and send it crashing into the fireplace. Glass exploded, and the servant looked to Corey helplessly.

  “Drag her out of here if she keeps acting like a madwoman,” he snarled. “Leave her on the main road, naked, if she con
tinues this tirade. I want her out of this house in fifteen minutes. Is that clear?”

  “Yassuh.” The Negro shook his head, eyes wide with fear.

  Corey hurried up the stairs, anxious to remove himself from Nancy. God, why had he allowed himself to become so involved with her? He should have seen what it was all leading up to. It would have been far better to bring in a prostitute from town.

  Hugo, his personal manservant, was waiting with a tub of hot water and fresh clothing. “How is Miss Wright?” Corey demanded at once. “Has she awakened yet?”

  “Sir, I spoke with Dulcie in the kitchen a short while ago.” Hugo spoke with the distinct “white” pronunciation that Corey had ordered him to master, though the tone was still slurred with the Negro accent. “She said Miss Wright was stirring a bit but still asleep from the laudanum the doctor gave her. She said she was going to fix her something to eat and take it into her and try to get her to wake up. She said the doctor said it was important that Miss Wright eat and get her strength back, ’specially with the baby to be nursed.”

  Corey had stripped off his clothes and was about to sink down into the deliciously warm water, but he stopped to glare at Hugo and snap, “She will not nurse that baby.”

  “But, sir—”

  “Don’t argue with me, man. You go to Dulcie at once and tell her that baby is not to be put to Miss Wright’s breast. Find a wet nurse. I’m sure there are plenty of women about with nursing infants. I will tell the good doctor myself that I do not want Miss Wright nursing her baby. Now do as I say.”

  Hugo nodded and turned to leave, but Corey called out once again, “And the baby is not to be taken in to her until I have seen her. Tell Dulcie I will personally take the tray in myself. Do you understand?”

  “Yes sir.” Hugo nodded and hurried out, closing the door behind him, but not before Corey heard Nancy, still screaming.