Velvet Chains (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  "I am looking for a man called Winston," she said, glancing back toward the river.

  "I'm Winston." A mountain of a man stepped forward, a frown on his face.

  "Winston, I want you to send someone to the house at once, to tell my maid, Molly, to go immediately to the overseer's cottage. Mr. Walls is very ill, the doctor must also be summoned."

  "Does you want me to go get the doctor?" the big black man asked.

  "No. We have a grave problem with the river, and I am going to need your help."

  The big man smiled, displaying pearly white teeth. "All you gotta do is tell ol' Winston what to do and I'll do it, ma'am."

  "As I told you, Mr. Walls is ill, so I am putting you in charge."

  Winston looked shocked for a moment and then he raised his head proudly. He turned to the boy standing next to him and instructed him to go to the big house to do as the mistress had ordered and then to bring the doctor to Mr. Walls. That done he turned back to Season.

  "I guess you'll be worrying 'bout the flood waters, ma'am? It's gotten mighty dangerous."

  "Yes, the banks of the river will surely overflow and we could lose the crops as well as your homes. Tell me what you think we should do, Winston?"

  "Well, I don't rightly know, ma'am," Winston replied, scratching his head. No one had ever asked his opinion before and he was taken by surprise. He looked at his mistress, pride in his dark eyes. He felt good that she had asked his advice and was determined not to let her down.

  "I guess we could sandbag the banks, ma'am. That's what we always does, but we ain't got a lot of time."

  "Tend to that Winston; I'm placing the full responsibility in your hands. Also, I believe if we dig several deep trenches leading toward the woods where the hill slopes, we can divert some of the water in the other direction. The floodwaters will do very little damage to the wooded area. Make sure all the livestock are penned up."

  "Ma'am, we ain't never done that before," Winston said, visualizing the whole thing in his mind.

  "Well, Winston, I suggest we try it. Set some of your men to making sandbags and give others shovels to dig the trenches."

  He smiled brightly. "Yes, ma'am, it just might work. I'll do that right away."

  "Good. I am going up to the house to change my clothing and I'll meet you at the river as soon as I can. Make haste, Winston, we don't have much time. It looks as if it might start raining again at any moment."

  "Yes, ma'am," the big man replied quickly. "Winston won't let you down."

  Season smiled. She mounted her horse and set off for the house at a gallop. She knew time and the weather were both against them.

  She found Molly gathering up a basket of supplies to take to the sick Mr. Walls. "Has the doctor been sent for, Molly?" Season asked, stripping off her gloves and running toward the stairs.

  "Yes, my lady. I was told that the river might flood. Is that the truth?"

  "Yes, and we don't have much time. I am going up to the attic to see if I can find some trousers to wear. I cannot very well work in a gown."

  Molly raced after her mistress and caught up with her at the attic door. "You can't go parading around in men's attire! It's just not respectable! Your father wouldn't approve of such actions."

  "My father would approve a lot less if I stood by while lives were lost and crops were ruined. What would you have me do, Molly?" Season asked, exasperated.

  "My lady, you aren't thinking about putting yourself in danger?" Molly queried suspiciously. "I will not allow it!"

  "I will not be in danger. You take yourself off to the Walls's cottage and do what you can to help them."

  Molly grumbled to herself, but did as she was told. Gathering up her medicine basket, she made her way to the Walls's. The maid couldn't help thinking she would be gald when Mr. Carrington returned so he could curb Lady Season's impulsive nature.

  The afternoon seemed endless as Season labored alongside the slaves to save Rosemont Plantation. Every man and woman, and every child old enough to help had been pressed into service. No one commented on the fact that the mistress wore men's breeches and labored as hard as everyone else.

  Season saw a woman who was heavy with child struggling with a heavy sandbag and she ran over to her. "You shouldn't be helping. Go up to the house and tell Drucilla to prepare food for everyone. Then you get cleaned up and lie down to rest. We don't want anything to happen to you and your baby."

  The woman looked at the mistress gratefully and hurried off to do as she had been told.

  As Season pushed a strand of golden hair off her forehead with a muddy hand she scanned the countryside. Looking toward the distant hills, she noticed it had already started raining there. It was only a matter of time before the rain reached them.

  Several wagons were returning from the nearby beach, loaded with sand. Season thankfully watched them return. Perhaps they could just manage to beat the floodwaters.

  A sense of urgency drove her as she held one gunnysack after another for the men to fill with sand. The sacks were placed along the swollen banks while a dozen workers dug long trenches that led away from the fields and cabins in the hope of diverting the water down the hill and into the woods.

  As Season felt the first drops of rain hit her face, she knew they must work desperately, but suddenly her feet slipped out from under her and she landed in the mud. Winston, who was standing nearby, offered her his hand and helped her up.

  "This ain't no place for you, ma'am. Why don't you just go on back up to the house? Mr. Carrington wouldn't like it if he knowed you was laboring like a field hand," Winston told her.

  "No, we need every available hand if we are going to lick this, Winston. Mr. Carrington would be a lot more upset if you lost your homes and he lost the cotton. What do you think our chances are of succeeding, Winston?"

  He scratched his head. "I'd say our chances are between slim and none."

  It was after five when their task had been completed. The part of the river which threatened the fields and cabins had been sandbagged.

  Season stood beside Winston in the heavy downpour and he seemed to read her mind. "Them sandbags ain't gonna hold, ma'am."

  "No, they won't, Winston," Season answered as she watched the angry river splash over the sides of the banks past the sandbags. "I believe we must now see if the trenches will do their job."

  Winston nodded grimly and walked over to the place where the trenches had been dug. Heavy lumber had been stacked up against the banks to help hold the water back while the ditches were being dug. Winston motioned for several men to help him remove the makeshift dam.

  Season stood tensely, her hands clasped together, hoping with all her heart that the trenches would take care of the floodwaters. All those who had just stopped working held their breath as the first water ran down the ditches.

  Tense moments passed while the ditches filled with the muddy water. After a while a loud cheer went up from everyone as the river began to recede!

  "We did it, ma'am! We did it!" Winston shouted happily. "I didn't think we could, but it ain't gonna flood the cabins and fields."

  Season laughed hysterically as her tears mixed with the rain. "You were all wonderful." She shouted so she could be heard above the rushing water. "On behalf of Mr. Carrington and myself, I want to thank each and every one of you for what you did here today. You are all to go home and get into dry clothing. I have ordered food to be prepared for everyone. We have a lot to be thankful for tonight."

  As Season walked to her horse she didn't see all the adoring glances that followed her. No one looked at her more adoringly than the giant Winston. The mistress had treated him as an equal and had made him feel important. He knew he would always remember Mrs. Carrington had put her trust in him, and he felt proud that he hadn't let her down.

  As Season rode back to the house she didn't know when she had ever been so tired. She was wet and muddy and her body seemed to ache all over, but never had she felt so good about an accomplishme
nt.

  She dismounted at the Walls's cottage and inquired if the doctor had come. Molly gave her a disapproving glare and Mrs. Walls stared at her in astonishment.

  "Like as not, you'll catch your death, my lady," Molly declared in a clear voice.

  Season smiled. "That may very well be, but we are saved from the flood."

  The doctor came out of the bedroom and was thunderstruck at the sight of Mrs. Carrington in muddied men's trousers. He was too polite to voice his surprise so he told her that Mr. Walls should be up and about in two more weeks.

  The doctor grinned at Season when she explained how they had diverted the floodwaters. "You may not be aware of it, Mrs. Carrington, but in diverting the river, you not only saved Rosemont, but several other plantations that lay in the river's path. Many of your neighbors will be calling to thank you when they learn what you have done here today."

  Season smiled and excused herself.

  When she reached the house she ordered all the food to be carried out to the veranda, and she sent a young boy to tell everyone to come to the big house to eat.

  When Season finally reached her bedroom she found Molly waiting there for her, preparing a hot bath and looking very put out.

  "Such goings-on," the maid grumbled as she poured bath salts into the water. "I never thought I'd live to see the day when you would dress like a man and be laboring like a common slave. I don't know what Mr. Carrington would say, or your father either for that matter," Molly stated in a disapproving voice.

  Season smiled as she stripped off her muddy clothing and climbed into the sweet-scented water. "I don't know what Lucas would say, Molly, but I believe my father would be proud of me."

  "What should I say?" her husband's voice suddenly filled the room.

  Season sank down into the water, while Molly stared blankly at the master of the house. The maid cast Season a glance that plainly told her her husband would deal with her unladylike behavior. Then she gathered up the muddy garments and sailed out of the room.

  Lucas walked casually over to Season, and she crossed her arms over her breasts trying to cover the upper half of her body from his view.

  "I have heard it said that you have taken to wearing men's clothing, my lady wife," he said, smiling at her while his golden eyes ran over her creamy shoulders.

  Season couldn't find her voice at first. She had gone for months without hearing a word from Lucas, and suddenly here he was acting as if he had never left her.

  She watched in disbelief as he slowly began removing his wet shirt. She pressed her back against the tub when he slipped off his muddy boots. "You aren't going to do what I think you are!" she cried, thinking it was his intention to get into the bath with her. How dare he just walk in as if nothing is wrong between us! Season thought angrily.

  He smiled and his brilliant golden eyes rested on Season's creamy white breasts which were plainly visible in the clear water. "I would like nothing better than to bathe with you, my dear, but alas, the tub isn't large enough to accommodate the both of us." Lucas dropped down beside her and raised her chin. "Have you no greeting for your husband after all this time, Season?"

  "Season's face became flushed when she saw the gleam in his eyes. "Lucas, I'm warning you to leave me alone!" she said, pushing his hand away.

  He chuckled and ran his finger down her breast. "Now isn't this pleasant? I come home to find my wife pining away for me. I understand you are restraining yourself from falling into my arms."

  "How dare you, Lucas! I haven't seen you in months. You didn't bother to tell me you were leaving and I haven't received one letter from you. You suddenly appear without warning, and you expect me to throw myself into your arms as if nothing had ever happened."

  His golden eyes caressed Season's face lovingly, causing her blood to pound. Feeling the pull of Lucas' magnetism, she armed herself against him. She didn't want to forgive his neglect so readily.

  "Have you any notion how beautiful you are…even with mud on your face?" His voice was low and the sound of it seemed to vibrate in her ears.

  She reached for a cloth and dabbed at her face until Lucas took it from her hand and tenderly washed the mud away. Season watched, mesmerized, as he took the cake of soap and began lathering his hands. She almost groaned with pleasure as he began to run his lathered hands across her shoulders and back. Hot waves of passion surged through her body as his hands moved slowly around to encircle her breasts and caress their satiny peaks sensuously.

  Lucas' eyes held hers, and her body began to relax beneath his gentle stroking hands. Suddenly he broke the spell with his laughter.

  "You have mud in your hair. What did you do— tumble in a mud puddle somewhere?" He gathered up a handful of muddy curls and began lathering them vigorously.

  "I have been helping sandbag the river. You weren't home to see to it. If I hadn't taken charge Rosemont would have been flooded and you would have lost your crops."

  His hands stopped. "You what? Are you telling me that Walls allowed you to take part in such a dangerous operation? I will send him packing for this!"

  "Mr. Walls has been very ill and had nothing to do with it," Season said, looking at him with an angry frown on her face.

  "You could have asked Robert for help, Season," he suggested ironically.

  "No, I couldn't. Robert and Rebecca have gone to Philadelphia. There was no one to take control but me."

  Lucas' hands were rough as he pulled her head up and forced her to look at him. "Are you telling me that you helped sandbag and dig the trenches I saw when I rode up?"

  "Well, obviously not all by myself. Everyone helped. You would have been proud of Winston, Lucas. He took charge and the others followed his lead."

  "Winston!" Lucas said in an astounded voice. "That slave has caused me nothing but trouble for the last three years. Mrs. Walls has urged me to sell him for fear that he might one day harm her husband."

  Season looked stricken for a moment. "It was Mrs. Walls who recommended Winston to me in the first place. Why would she do such a thing if she didn't trust Winston?"

  Lucas clamped his jaw tightly together. "She is a bitter old woman, but I have put up with her for years because I value Walls. I think it's time I had a talk with her."

  "Let it be, Lucas. Everything worked out satisfactorily. As for selling Winston, I won't ever allow it. I do not approve of buying and selling human beings as if they were cattle. Besides, he was wonderful today. We could never have saved Rosemont without his help."

  Lucas' shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Lord, you oppose me at every turn, Season. First, you turn patriot on me, and now you want to free all my slaves. You have me at your mercy, wondering what you will do next."

  "Why did you come back, Lucas?" she asked pointedly. "Why didn't you just stay with your friends in New York? I have been told that you have a friend there by the name of Lady Southerland. Why didn't you stay with her?"

  Lucas' hand tightened on Season's shoulder. "Where did you hear that?"

  "Edmund told me the day he came to Rosemont. Do you deny that he spoke the truth?"

  "I will neither confirm nor deny the charge. If you have no faith in me, there is nothing I can say that will make you believe me."

  "I have thought many things about you, Lucas, but I have never questioned your honesty. If you say Edmund wasn't telling the truth, I will believe you."

  "If that is the case, I will tell you there is nothing going on between myself and Lady Southerland," he said as his golden eyes flashed.

  Season lowered her lashes. "I will believe you then, but that still doesn't excuse you, Lucas."

  He stood up and smiled slightly. "Am I to take it you are not overjoyed to see me?"

  Season dunked her head in the water and washed the soap from her hair. She saw that the towel was hanging over the back of a chair, and knew she would have to expose herself to reach it. Anger overruled her modesty, and she climbed out of the tub and padded across the room, dripping water o
n the floor.

  Lucas' eyes followed her and their golden depths seemed to burn into her. He noticed her long silky legs and her softly curved hips.

  Wrapping the towel about her she turned to face him. "What did you expect, Lucas? Did you think I would welcome you back with open arms?"

  "I had hoped so," he replied, smiling.

  Season's damp hair clung to her face and her green eyes sparkled defiantly. "Perhaps the other women in your life are content to go for months without seeing or hearing from you. I have no doubt they would fall willingly into your arms, glad that you noticed them at all. If you expect that from me you will be sadly disappointed."

  In two long strides Lucas crossed the room and grabbed Season, crushing her in his arms. "Dare I hope that you are jealous, Season?"

  She felt Lucas tug at the towel that was wound about her, and suddenly she was naked against his body. Season had no time to react as he lifted her into his arms and placed her on the bed.

  "You can put your mind at rest, Season," he said, moving his hand along her stomach and up to her breasts. "I have been with no other woman since I took you as my wife. How could I, when my thoughts are of you day and night?"

  She swallowed the lump in her throat, wanting to believe him. "Why did you stay away so long? Couldn't you have written me just once?"

  He could hear the pain in her voice and he dropped down beside her. "I can assure you, Season, nothing short of duty would have kept me from you," he whispered, his eyes roving over her face as if he wanted to reacquaint himself with every beautiful detail.

  Season turned her face away from him, not yet ready to forgive his neglect.

  He reached for her and made her face him. His eyes were soft and Season thought she saw sadness in their golden depths. "Do not turn away from me, my love. I have needed you for so long."

  A sob escaped her lips and she held out her arms to him. No, she wouldn't turn away from him. Until that moment she hadn't realized how much she had missed him. It didn't matter that he had neglected her—all that mattered now was that he was here, and he really did need her.