Atlanta

by Sara Orwig

  “Yes, sir.”

  Claire watched her carry the box upstairs, amazed at the help Fortune had hired: Penthea as a nanny for Michael, Della to cook, Robena to clean, and Badru as butler, driver, and guard. Yet she knew with the large house, she was going to need help to keep it running smoothly.

  The back parlor was filled with more rosewood furniture, a leather settee, and a carved desk, where she knew Fortune planned to work.

  They moved from room to room, and she was dazed as she entered an octagonal dining room with leaded glass windows and a crystal chandelier above a long, hand-carved English oak Louis XV table that gleamed with polish. The fourteen chairs around it were covered in Aubusson tapestry. A punkah hung over the table to fan the room.

  The kitchen was at the back of the house, and it had a new stove and piped-in water. A short dark-skinned woman was working on dinner, and she turned to smile at them. “Mr. O’Brien, Mrs. O’Brien,” she said in greeting.

  “Hello, Della,” Claire said, having met her shortly after Fortune hired her.

  “I’m glad you folks are finally here. Mistah Michael has already been in here and had a bit of melon.”

  “I’ll tell him to stay out of your way.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. He’s so quiet and polite.”

  At the back of the house off the kitchen were two servants’ bedrooms, rooms now occupied by Della and Penthea.

  They went upstairs and inspected Michael’s room, which was furnished in deep wine colors and rosewood furniture with the oak floor gleaming with polish.

  Walking with her hand in Fortune’s, they went through the upstairs sitting room, her sewing room, the extra bedroom with high, carved rosewood beds. And finally they entered their bedroom, which ran the length of the front of the house. She looked at the fancy carved walnut bed, walnut tables topped with rose marble, the rose damask drapes and lace curtains, the fireplace and empty mantel. A large bathroom adjoined their room, and she felt as if she had never seen anything as luxurious in her life.

  “This is as elegant as your brother’s house.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” Fortune said, grinning. He crossed the room to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I hope it’s good for us here, Claire.”

  “How could it be anything else in such a beautiful place?”

  “That doesn’t stop trouble from coming. Alaric will be over tonight to look at the house and celebrate.”

  “How nice!”

  Fortune gave her a pleasant smile, leaning forward to kiss her lightly. He no longer shared the bed with her at the hotel, coming in late, sometimes sleeping on the sofa, sometimes in a chair, and she wondered what he would do here.

  “You take this room. I’ll take the one next to it.”

  Studying him, she started to ask him about a baby, but he turned away.

  “We better start telling them where to put the boxes,” he said briskly, and she felt the moment had slipped away. She would wait until that night, when things had quieted and the servants were gone.

  They were busy the rest of the afternoon. Finally that night she bathed in the new bathroom, marveling at everything in it. Feeling an undercurrent of excitement, rehearsing what she would say to Fortune and then rejecting each speech in turn, she dressed with care for dinner, finally selecting a deep blue silk with lace and rosebuds trimming the skirt and bodice, and a rose sash. She fastened her hair on the sides of her head and let it hang down in back, staring at her reflection, her gaze going to the bed.

  She went downstairs, her skirts rustling. She stopped in the kitchen to check on the cooking and then headed toward the front parlor. Both men turned toward her when she entered. Dressed in a new gray coat and black trousers, his shirt front frothy with ruffles, Fortune stood with his elbow against the mantel while Alaric stood in the center of the room.

  “Claire,” Alaric said warmly, setting down his drink and coming forward to take her hand, his eyes filled with pleasure, a broad smile on his face. For a moment she wished it were Fortune greeting her with such enthusiasm as Alaric brushed her cheek with a kiss. “It isn’t fair that he has this marvelous house and the most beautiful wife in Atlanta.”

  “If you keep talking like that, you’ll find yourself flying out the door with a swift shove,” Fortune said good-naturedly.

  “Thank you, Alaric. The house is beautiful.”

  “Indeed it is.”

  “Alaric brought a bottle of champagne to celebrate, and there is a present for both of us—or for the house actually. I was waiting for you to open it. First the champagne,” Fortune said, turning to pop the cork.

  She watched her handsome husband pour champagne into glasses, his dark head bent over as pale liquid splashed and bubbled. Fortune passed out the crystal flutes, his fingers brushing hers, his compelling gaze holding hers. “You look beautiful,” he said softly. Before she could answer, he turned as Alaric raised his glass.

  “Here’s to many long, wonderful years in this house,” Alaric said cheerfully, watching her.

  They drank solemnly and she looked over the rim of her glass into Fortune’s gaze.

  “Now you can open his present.”

  She sat down to undo a large box tied in a green satin bow. She untied it and gasped as she lifted out matching silver candelabra.

  “Alaric, how magnificent!” Fortune exclaimed.

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you, Alaric.”

  “You’re very welcome. Where’s Michael?”

  “He’s eating in the kitchen now, and he’ll be in to say hello if he can calm down long enough to talk to you. He is so excited about the house.”

  “I can’t blame him.”

  “I’m trying to get Alaric to get out of the army and go to work for me at the mill,” Fortune said. “I could use him.”

  She looked at Alaric questioningly, and he shrugged. “I’m giving it consideration. Now, it’s time to show me the house.”

  Fortune smiled and placed his arm across Claire’s shoulders to lead the way, opening the doors to the ballroom. Light still shone through the windows.

  “Ah, a gorgeous room,” Alaric said. He took Claire’s hand, turning her to face him. “Claire, I must have one dance. C’mon. We’ll get Fortune to sing.”

  “The hell you will,” he said.

  “Then I’ll sing and you’ll wish you had,” Alaric said, sweeping her into his arms and beginning to sing in German.

  She laughed, following him, looking at his feet for a few steps and then feeling comfortable without looking down. “I just learned to dance with Fortune. And I didn’t know you knew German.”

  “I’m incredibly versatile.” He swept her around the room, and when she glanced back to Fortune, he was watching her solemnly.

  She drew a deep breath, looking up at Alaric, who squeezed her waist. “Let the devil wonder,” he said under his breath, singing the words softly, and she smiled up at him, shaking her head.

  As he came back around, Fortune stepped forward. “Shall we continue the tour and you give me back my wife?”

  “Of course. If you could sing, you could dance with her.”

  Fortune grinned and placed his arm across her shoulders again. He not only led her to the back parlor, but she was conscious that he stayed by her side the whole time they showed Alaric through the house. As they descended the stairs to the parlor again, Alaric glanced at Fortune. “You’ll win over all of Atlanta.”

  “Who knows? As long as Michael is accepted—”

  Alaric laughed. “Don’t be absurd. Michael could get accepted on his own. With you and this house, he’ll have no problem.”

  She glance at Alaric, thinking he was right. Michael didn’t need all of his father’s social prowess. Michael was a bright, friendly child, and would be accepted for himself.

  When Badru announced dinner was ready, Alaric took her arm. Through a dinner of roasted quail, potatoes, steaming yellow squash, she barely tasted anything. A running current of excitement distur
bed her while she sat at one end of the table and faced Fortune.

  All evening she tried to keep her mind on the conversation, to relax, but words of her speeches kept running through her mind. She couldn’t help wondering if she would lose her courage. And what if he objected to fathering a child?

  After dinner she left them to let them smoke and drink brandy, and as she sat in the front parlor, Michael appeared. “I have to go to bed soon, but I wanted to see Uncle Alaric.”

  “He’s with your father in the dining room. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.”

  Michael left and in minutes all three of them returned with Alaric telling Michael a story about the army.

  In another half hour Fortune stood up and placed his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Time to tell them good night.”

  “Night, Uncle Alaric.”

  “Good night, Michael. I like your new home.”

  “So do I!” He ran to Claire to hug her and kiss her cheek, and she gave him a squeeze. As she did, she glanced at Fortune. “I can go upstairs with him.”

  “And deprive me of your company? No,” Alaric said, smiling at her. Fortune grinned and left with Michael.

  “The home is beautiful, Claire, and I’m thankful you have it.”

  “I don’t know when I’ll get accustomed to it. I feel as if I’m intruding and should leave.”

  He rose from the settee and crossed the room to sit in a wing chair closer to her. “It’s yours and it’s magnificent, and I hope you’re happy. He’s so damned blind to everything. If I were Fortune, I—”

  “You’re not,” she said gently, wanting to stop him from whatever he was about to say.

  “He doesn’t deserve you, not when he is so damned cold and indifferent.”

  “Alaric, let’s talk about something else. Next time you come, you’ll have to bring Priscilla. It was wonderful to meet her. I’ll invite her over soon and tell her to bring Edwin.”

  Alaric watched her, his blue eyes steady. “He’s my friend, and I would risk my life for him because he’s risked his for me, but he doesn’t deserve you, Claire.”

  She smiled and moved away. “You’re nice, Alaric, and you’re his best friend. And I’m happy with the arrangement I have.” She sat down on the settee. “Now tell me about this ball we’re attending. I need to start trying to learn names.”

  Fortune strode through the door, glancing at Alaric and then at her. She looked into his eyes and longed to be alone with him, wondering if her courage would fail her when she was. He sat in a wing chair and stretched out his legs, and she wished he had sat on the settee beside her. As she gazed at him, he seemed remote, shut away behind invisible walls where she couldn’t reach him.

  Finally Alaric told them good night, pausing at the door to kiss her cheek. As they closed the door and turned back into the hall, Fortune looked down at her. “He likes you damned well.”

  “Your friend is very nice.”

  “Yes, he is. And intelligent in spite of the way he acts sometimes. I wish he would go to work with me. I need him.”

  “He sounds as if he’s considering it.”

  They walked up the stairs, and at the top Fortune started ahead. “I’ll look at Michael.”

  “Fortune, after you look at Michael, may I see you? I want to talk to you.”

  “Yes. I’ll be there in just a minute.” He marched down the hall, shedding his coat as he went, opening the door noiselessly to Michael’s room.

  She went to the darkened master bedroom that Fortune said would be hers. She left the lamps off, wanting the room dark when she talked to Fortune because she knew she would blush. Nervous, she locked her fingers together and moved toward the window to wait for him.

  The door opened and he entered. “Claire?”

  “I’m in here,” she answered as he closed the door. He had left his coat in Michael’s room and had shed his cravat.

  “Did you want to talk to me?” he asked, and she could hear the curiosity in his voice. He came closer to the window and moonlight spilled across him.

  Her heart drummed and she kept her fingers locked together. All her courage seemed to leave her, yet she wanted him and she wanted a baby.

  “Is something wrong?” he finally asked as the silence stretched between them.

  “No, nothing is wrong. It’s a little difficult to talk to you because we haven’t been together as much lately,” she said, looking down, trying for a moment to avoid his probing gaze. Another gap of silence stretched between them. He moved closer, placing his hands on her shoulders gently.

  She looked up at him and took a deep breath. “Fortune, when you proposed to me, you offered several things.” Her hands began to tremble. “I love Michael so terribly much.” There was a moment’s silence, and she realized he was waiting and giving her time. She wondered if he could hear her heart thudding. “You said we could have the physical side of marriage if I want,” she said, the words rushing out in a whisper. “I would like a baby.”

  Chapter 17

  Fortune studied her, moving closer to her to tilt her chin up and gaze down at her.

  “You said you would be willing if I wanted a physical relationship—” she repeated, her cheeks flushed a deep pink. Her large, luminous eyes were wide with uncertainty.

  “I still love Marilee,” he said quietly.

  “I know you do, but you’re a wonderful father to Michael. I’m strong and healthy, and I would like another child.”

  Just then Fortune’s pulse jumped at the thought of bedding her. He knew she had given thought to her decision before she asked him, and he knew that she was certain what she wanted.

  “Claire, I like and respect you. I wish I could change how I feel, but I can’t and there will be times you’ll know it.”

  “I understand that, but I want more than we have now. And I want another baby badly. We have so much love to give a baby, Fortune. I watch you with Michael, and you’re patient with him. He’s blossomed since we’ve been with you.”

  He thought over what she was saying. She was a virgin and completely innocent about men. She deserved some kind of courtship before being carried off to bed.

  He drew her to him, sliding his arms carefully around her waist as he bent his head to kiss her. “If that’s what you want, I told you I was willing. Lord knows, Claire, I’ve wanted you in my arms for a long time.”

  She slid her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe while he kissed her. The words weren’t declarations of love, but she was happy with what he had said. And maybe someday Fortune would come to love her too.

  His hands ran along her sides and her heart beat wildly. She had wanted him to kiss her for so long now, wanted to be held in his arms.

  “Fortune,” she said, pulling away to look at him. It was on the tip of her tongue to admit to him that she loved him, but as he looked at her, she thought she would hold back that one last little part of herself. Now it would only stir guilt in him. She pulled his head back down until his lips covered hers and he kissed her.

  His hands slid over her back, twisting free buttons to push away the silk dress. It fell in a rustle and she felt cool air on her shoulders. Her heart drummed with ecstasy; if this was all she ever had of him, she would learn to accept it, but maybe she could melt the ice around his heart and reach him and let him get over his grieving.

  “Claire, you deserve more than this,” he whispered roughly.

  “I understand, Fortune, I understand …” Her voice trailed away as he kissed her throat. His hands rubbed lightly across her breasts, the nipples swelling against his touch.

  Watching her with a hungry, smoldering look that made her tremble with eagerness, he stepped back. His hands moved with deliberation, stroking her, grasping the thin chemise and sliding it slowly over her head while his gaze drifted down to her breasts. Fortune cupped them in his big hands, squeezing lightly, bending his head to take a nipple in his mouth and flick his tongue over it. The silky wet touch made her gasp, and she slid
her hands across his shoulders, tugging at his shirt, wanting him to take it off.

  “Fortune—” she whispered, wondering if he thought she was brazen for pulling at his shirt. “Fortune, I don’t know what you want and what you don’t want me to do,” she whispered.

  He raised his head, looking at her with lowered lids, a gaze so heated her heart seemed to thump against her rib cage. “Thank the Lord you don’t know. And whatever you do will please me, Claire.” He leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth, then kiss her ear, his voice husky and his breath warm. “You can do anything that pleases you. I’ll like anything.”

  “I don’t even know what to do.”

  “You will, love,” he whispered, trailing kisses from her throat down over her breasts as he fondled her.

  She gasped and clung to him, his words as stunning as his touches. “… love …” She knew he had meant it only in the most casual manner, but how she yearned for him to say that to her!

  He straightened and pulled away his shirt. Her gaze went over his chest and she touched him, letting her fingers move across the mat of curls, touching a flat nipple.

  “Oh, Fortune—”

  With a groan his arms banded her and he bent over her, pulling her up against him as he kissed her passionately. She felt his hard erection press against her. She clung to him, lost to sensation, filled with hot desire and wanting him, her hips moving against him.

  With another groan he released her and stepped away, picking up his shirt. “For the next few nights I should sleep down the hall.”

  She stared at him, suddenly feeling cold. “You’ve changed your mind?”

  He paused, turning back to her and moving close again to slide his arm around her waist. Her breasts pressed against him. “Claire,” he said, his voice warm and husky, “I haven’t changed my mind. You deserve to be made love to long and slowly,” he said, kissing her throat. He looked down at her, his eyes filled with desire. “You didn’t have a courtship, and you deserve more than my carrying you off to bed tonight. You know I’m ready and want you, but I want you to be as ready and want me as badly.”