The Black Swan

by Day Taylor

  Fight so? Adam walked away from the Raymer house. Was he fighting? He didn't think he was. All he wanted was to give her a free choice for once: Come to him or remain away. Neither of them had ever had that choice, it seemed. Always they had been thrown together, acting out of the heat of a moment, first loving in forbidden, out-of-the-way places, then marrying as they fled his pursuers, living in the midst of a war that made everything urgent and impermanent.

  His feet took him unknowingly toward the Hudson River. As he had come to do so often the last weeks, he stood on the bank of the Hudson, staring sightlessly across its expanse. The bustling sounds of the dock intruded not at all on him. They were the pleasant background noises of "home," sounds that were less intrusive than the soft scratch of Daniels's pen across his papers.

  April came and fled with no word from Dulcie. It was long past the time Adam had promised himself he would set her free if she did not wish to see him again. Still, he waited, wading methodically through the days in Rod's office, gaining skill and expertise but no feel for the work. He seemed to have come to a complete stop, unable to be at peace where he was and unwilling to take the final step that would take him away from Dulcie for good. He temporized, promising that if tomorrow didn't bring what today denied, he would give up and return to his ship and the dying cause of the South. With everything that was in him, he knew that was where he belonged. Yet he continued in New York, waiting and hoping, for what he didn't know. Mad told him Dulcie was stronger, even able to be out of the house when she chose. But never had she mentioned Adam's name, never asked for him.

  One evening, the end of a warm, singular April day when the blossoms on the trees showed tender green against the weak sun-filled sky, Adam walked home. He had given

  up using a carriage, needing both the exercise and the feel of wind in his face. Hannah opened the door, her face in a perpetually hopeful pout as she hung up his coat. "There's a visitor for ya."

  "Where is he?"

  She brushed the coat with the greatest care. "It*s not a he, it's a she—some brazen she-goat that hasn't—"

  For a moment Adam's heart rose, then he pushed the feeling down. "Who is it?"

  "How should I know? She'd not give me her name. I told her neither you nor Mr. Courtland tended business in the home. But did she listen? No, she did not! Sashayed into the study and sits herself down like the queen. Shall I be tellin' her you'll not have the time to see her?"

  Adam was tempted. He was tired from a long day of clients whose voices droned on monotonously about their endless investments. But he said, "I'll see her. Tell cook Mr. and Mrs. Courtland won't be in for supper but to prepare a collation for six after the theater."

  "Miz Zoe di'n't say nothin' to me. This is my night off."

  "That is why she sent the message home with me. Now you will be needed tonight," he said with irritable deliberation.

  Hannah flounced toward the kitchen, defiance in each jolting switch of her hips.

  Adam stepped inside the shadowy study, lit only by the light of a single lamp that stood on Rod's desk. Deep in the shadow of the leather armchair he could see the shape of the woman. He walked purposefully toward another lamp. "Hannah could have spared you enough light to see. My apologies, Madame." He turned, the match still burning, to see Dulcie's pinched, uncertain face.

  Drawing in his breath sharply as the flame touched his fingers, Adam shook it out, his eyes never leaving her. Taking some command of himself, he walked toward her. It had been almost two months since he had seen her. Weeks since she had been well enough to see him had she wanted to. Now he would not allow himself to hope. "You're the last person I expected to be sitting here. Hannah prepared me to do business with a lady dragon."

  Dulcie smiled. "Hannah took an instant dislike to me."

  He had nothing to reply. The silence in the room became awkward. Restlessly he got up. "Rod must have some cordial."

  "I don*t care for anythin', thank you, Adam. It was you I came to see.

  Unreasonably he didn't want to hear the reason for her visit. He didn't want to hear her speak the final words that would end it between them. He had promised her he'd give her her freedom when the time came. He didn't want to hear her ask for a divorce, which he would be bound to grant. "You're looking well, Dulcie. Nothing seems to alter you. You look beautiful no matter what."

  "I can't stay much longer. Mama and Aunt Mad will worry if I'm not home soon. It is already dark. I told Aunt Mad where I was goin', but Mama and Daddy don't know. They still look after me as though I might break."

  He poured her the unwanted cordial. He handed her the glass, his hand drawing back hastily as his fingers touched hers, as though he had done something wrong.

  Again the awkward, heavy silence fell, blanketing them, smothering their ability to say the common words because their feelings rose and choked them. Finally Dulcie shook her head, her eyes misty. "Oh, Adam, this is so awful! I shouldn't have come. I knew I shouldn't." She struggled trying to rid herself of the glass and draw on her gloves.

  He was out of his chair and at her side in a moment. "Why did you come?"

  She rose, her gloves on her hands again, her suit smoothed. "Aunt Mad said you had stayed in the city. She said you are workin' with—with your father. I'm so glad you found him, Adam. I—I'm happy for you."

  He stood close to her, so close the smell of his tobacco and shaving lotion filled her nostrils, his arm so near she could feel the heat of his body. She suddenly looked up at him. "Oh, Adam, why did you do it? Why did you stay? You don't belong here. Your ship—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I keep gettin' tangled in the past. The doctor said I might for a while. I keep thinkin' of things and people as they were, not what they have become. I couldn't imagine you in that office with Mr. Daniels bustlin' in and out, and you with all that smell of ink and paper and no—no sea."

  His voice shook. "Dulcie, why did you come here tonight?"

  Dulcie's head buzzed with the weakness and pounding of her blood. She shivered, trembling as she had with the fever. "I love you, Adam. I tried not to—I did! I tried

  and tried to forget. Oh, Adam, hold me, just for a little while. I won't ask for anythin* else. Just hold me."

  His arms enveloped her, and he held her close against him, rocking gently with her. After a few minutes Dulcie drew back. He pressed her to him, his voice soft and blurred with emotion. "Don't move away from me, my love. Stay near, stay near." His words were lost as his lips touched her hair, her neck.

  Dulcie's hands ran the length of his back, feeling again the long, lean hardness of him, her fingers seeking the well-remembered curves of the muscles of his sides and chest. There was no part of him that she didn't want to touch, to remember, to see as she once had.

  She began to cry and laugh with joy. "You want me with you? Do you truly Want me, Adam?'*

  "Yes, I want you, want you always." He kissed her again for all the nights and days they had been apart. His hunger grew as he held her in his arms. "Don't ever leave me, Dulcie. I love you. I love you. I need you. Stay with me. Don't go back to your parents. Stay here with me."

  BQs breath caught, and his mouth was on hers again, his tongue tasting, seeking.

  Dulcie stirred in his arms, feeling the male hardness of him, allowing the words of his love to wash over her, healing, forgiving, possessing. "Love me, Adam. Hold me closer .. . closer."

  They moved to the sofa. Dulcie, her lips parted, looked up into his eyes dark with wanting. Her fingers worked at the buttons of his waistcoat. "I won't break, Adam. I'm well. You won't hurt me."

  He undressed her with care, his hands touching her with a leisurely, attentive loving he had never expressed, perhaps never even felt, before. His lips moved delicately over her, caressing her forehead, kissing the soft, tender flesh at the comer of her eyes and mouth, learning again the delicious hollows of her neck, feeling her warm, erect nipples rise to his mouth.

  Though one part of him was eager to join his flesh to
hers, in aU the rest of him he wanted to prolong the love-making, to express his desire for her with every passionately tender gesture. He drank in the scent of her hair and skin. He saw and felt the fineness of its texture. His eyes strayed over her with new awareness. As never before, he was

  alive to the most subtle nuances of her yielding. His love for her welled up almost like tears within him.

  Dulcie's hands roved over Adam's body in a glad dream, her fingers remembering the curling hair on his neck better than she could recall her own face. She heard his heartbeat and knew herself sheltered there. Her senses roused to an almost mystical awareness, she felt the strength of love flow from her fingers, from her breath, from every pore of her skin, into Adam, and Adam's love flow thus into herself.

  Her fingertips brushed lightly down his arm to the back of his hand, pressing his hand more tightly to her, and running on to caress his lean belly. She began to stroke the inside of his thighs, with gentle fluttering motions that grew more insistent until Adam placed her hand on his thick, throbbing penis. Dulcie felt it surge between her fingers and palm, felt to the very core of her being the depth and urgency of his desire for her.

  She shifted her body, raising one knee to make herself vulnerable to him. His palm moved across her groin in slow strokes, his fingers flattened and outspread, moving downward, seeking the hot moistness of her, caressing, teasing her to burning hunger for him. She yielded under his hand, her breath coming in little moans of pleasure.

  Then when neither could wait any longer, he entered her, sheathing his length in the warmth of her. As one, they broke the bonds of earth, winging to the heights of rapture, sustained, exalted.

  The sensation was so profound that they slept, still joined, breath mingling with breath, hearts beating together. When they awoke, Dulcie murmured, "I have never loved you so much ... or felt so loved."

  Adam looked at her, the sleepy contentment still in his eyes. "Will you marry me, Dulcie?'*

  She laughed. "We're already married."

  "I know, but would you marry me—tonight? Will you stay with me? Live with me, Dulcie. Never go back, never leave again.*'

  She turned in his arms on the narrow space of the sofa so that she faced him. "I've wanted to hear that for so long, to know that we'd be together, like this always. I love you, only you."

  Later, under Hannah's disapproving pout, they mounted

  the stairs to Adam's bedroom. "We'll take supper upstairs," Adam said. "And Hannah, when Mr. and Mrs. Courtland return from the theater, tell them that Mrs. Tremain will be staying here."

  In his room were all the trappings Dulcie had missed about him. He had brought his logbook, charts, and small instruments and placed them where they would be convenient to use. His uniform hung, neatly pressed, at the end of the wardrobe. Everything was familiar, everything spoke to her of Adam.

  "Now I'm home! This is you, this is really youl"

  His smile was graver than hers. "Yes."

  "Even a picture of the sea."

  "Rod had it hung up here for me."

  "Why did you leave the ship? You've always needed it so. And the sea. Being on the sea was so important to you, not having a dry paintin' of it on a wall. Why are you workin' in the city?"

  "Because you are in the city. Because of all the things I need, I need you the most."

  Her eyes sparkled with happy tears. "Oh, my dear, my dear. And I need you." Her arms went around him; her face, shining with gladness, looked up at his. Their mouths met, open, seeking. The flame swept them again, making them blush and shiver with wanting each other.

  Adam's fingers were at her blouse, Dulcie's hands at his waistcoat. They caught each other's eyes and laughed, kissed, and stopped laughing. Fingers flew with remembered expertise, her clothing lay in a careless heap with his. Then naked, Adam picked up his wife and carried her to bed. He stood over her, his eyes knowing every inch of her, his heart yearning for her as though this were to be their first time together.

  He said softly, "Have I told you that I love you?"

  Softly she replied, "Come lie with me, and let us tell each other."

  She held up her arms, and he went into them easily, murmuring secret things into her ear and against her breast, hearing her voice, neither of them needing the words, only needing each other.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Zoe was awake before the birds. Just down the hall, one door away, slept her son and his wife. Dulcie was herel Dulcie, whom Zoe had never met. She shivered happily, snuggling closer to Rod's warmth. What would she say when she met Dulcie? Would she like her? Would Dulcie seem as lovable to her as she did to Adam? And how would Adam look? Would the lines of strain be eased in his face? Most important of all, would Dulcie like her?

  By six o'clock Zoe was on her way to the kitchen to oversee the preparation of breakfast. She would never get used to these Irish girls, who in no way had the understanding of running a household as Mammy did. Zoe had been gamely trying to get along without Mammy, but it hadn't been easy. Everyday of her life she had had Mammy to turn to and depend on. She missed the old woman's stolid good sense and her reassuring bulk. She wished Mammy could be here to see Adam and Dulcie.

  But Mammy had refused to come North with them. "Ah's too or, Miz Zoe, chil'. W'en dese bones is laid to res', dey gwine be laid in Ca'lina earf."

  Zoe had thrust aside a sudden clutching of her heart. Mammy couldn't die! She said brightly, "Oh, that'll be a long time yet, Mammy. Besides, I need you to help me get Master Rod's household organized."

  "Yes, it's been a bachelor establishment for so long, it needs a good firm hand," Rod admitted. "Better come along with us, Mammy. There's a big job for you North, and nobody can do it better."

  "Ah thanks you, Mas' Rod." Mammy's eyes twinkled. "You tries to git 'roun' Mammy jes' like Mas' Adam, an' Ah like dat. But Ah ain't gwine be got 'roun' dis time."

  "Mammy, please!" Zoe cried, putting her hand on the old woman's shoulder. For the first time she noticed that Mammy was no longer heavy. Extreme old age was stealing her substantialness away.

  Mammy's arms encircled Zoe as they had so many times. "You doan need yo' Mammy no mo', chil. Mas' Rod, he

  gwine look offer you. Mammy need to be heah. Mah boy might come back an' need Mammy. Whut he gwine do effen Ah ain't heah to do fo' him? Now, you go on to Noo Yawk, an' leaves Mammy to do what mus' be did. An' Miz Zoe, you prays he doan evah gots to come back heah. He needin' his woman jes' like you needin' Mas' Rod. Time you boff movin' on. But yo' Mammy be heah, waitin' 'effen you needs to come home."

  Zoe, on this happiest of mornings, blinked away tears, and sighed once more as she thought of what love and devotion had been lost when the South was torn apart. There had been great evils, true, but there had been good as well. Zoe's own mother had died so young she scarcely remembered any mother but Mammy. And this day, given a choice of parentage, Zoe would have chosen the woman who had mothered her throughout her life.

  She awakened a reluctant Hannah, crisply gave her orders, and waited until the lazy girl had gotten up.

  Zoe was straightening the table settings, lining up napkins and cups in precise order, when she heard a happy giggle and Adam's low voice reply. Zoe sucked in her breath, holding back tears, laughter, anticipation, until Adam and Dulcie came into the kitchen.

  She was reminded of the day Adam had come home after receiving *his master's papers. She hadn't seen him for four years; he had been a stranger to her. She had nearly gone out of her mind with pride that day. And he had been so pleased and full of his accomplishment.

  He looked much like that today. The vivid sparkle was in his eyes. He walked with the broad-shouldered, straight-backed pride that personified him. Quick, lithe animal grace was in all his movements.

  At his side was a jewel of a girl. Zoe couldn't think of her as a woman, for Dulcie's face shone with the dewy luminousness of a flower opening to the sun. Her riotous auburn curls were vivid against the dark masculinity of Adam, her delicacy
complementing his ruggedness. Together they were complete. Zoe was left misty-eyed and speechless when Adam said, "Mother, may I present my wife? This is Dulcie."

  Laughing, she hugged Dulcie. "Oh, my dear, dear child!" she whispered. Holding fast to Dulcie's hand, she hugged Adam. "And you too!" As Rod came sleepily into

  the room, she flew to him, throwing her arms around his neck, laughing-crying as she buried her face against him.

  Rod bhnked, then grinned at Adam. "Getting to know your mother again is quite an experience." He hugged her, raising her feet off the floor. "I take it she just met Dulcie?"

  Adam's face glowed as he gazed on his wife. "She has a way of affecting people like that. Rod."

  They all laughed, teased, and chattered as Zoe struggled to recover from her emotion and embarrassment. Breakfast was all but forgotten. Hannah stood at the serving board as instructed, her face pained and sullen. Then in spite of herself Hannah, too, was smiling, chattering, and scolding them as she served. "Sure none of ye'll eat a bite, if I don't bring it to you myself."

  By the time she and Adam were ready to go to Oliver's to see her parents, Dulcie was nearly in a trance. "She likes me, Adam! She honestly likes me!"

  Bemused, he said, "Of course she likes you. Did you expect otherwise?"

  Old feelings of guilt assailed her. "I think I would have acted differently had I been she. She loves you so, and I ... I have not been a good wife to you. How can she forgive me so easily?"

  Adam's big hands swallowed up her shoulders. "There's nothing to forgive, Dulcie. There's nothing to talk about. My mother loves you, and"—he pulled her against him— *T love you. No more questions and no more doubts."

  There was more jubilation and merry making at the Raymers'. Mad looked like a demented Cupid with her perpetual grin as she offered them too much to eat and drink. Patricia was her usual light-hearted, accepting self, once she was convinced Adam was sane and therefore worthy of Dulcie. Jem alone wore a downcast face. He took Dulcie alone into Oliver's study.