Nate let her slip from his arms as he turned away to gain control and Constance took in deep breaths as she patted her hair into place and made sure her gown was properly arranged.
"Constance..." He caught hold of her arm and turned her to face him once more, wanting to say something, anything to tell her how much he admired and desired her. Maybe he even loved her.
She pulled away and shook her head, placing a finger to her lips, a signal for him to shush.
The maid finally left the room and Constance slipped inside. She located the papers she'd been searching for when she'd almost been discovered and handed them to Nate. "Give these to Sir Kenward, please. Tell him I'm going home to Teague Oaks for a while. I... I need a long rest."
She had walked out of the room that night and gone straight to retrieve her things at the townhouse. She'd left without seeing him again, too embarrassed to face him after what she allowed to happen between them.
Constance never replied when Nate sent a letter out to the plantation. She had not needed to return to Charleston as the Union army seized the city the next week, and soon after General Lee surrendered. Thankfully, finally, the War and her job had been over.
* * * * *
Charleston, 1867
The cab returned from the docks and stopped at her door. Constance paid the driver, adding a large tip as promised. Tiredly, she made her way inside and climbed the stairs to bed. She would need her rest as it all started again, tomorrow.
Chapter Four
Nate watched the red-haired beauty in the pink-flowered gown enter the foyer. If possible, she looked more beautiful than she did the night they avoided capture by the Colonel and the maid. He'd ached to get her into bed, or on a haystack, or anywhere else ever since. Other women had not satisfied his need for her, though heaven knew he'd tried. Watching her walk across to the host and hostess made him so uncomfortable he would soon have to stand behind something or embarrass himself. He felt like a callow youth. And this is definitely a strange coincidence...if one believed in coincidence.
He wondered at her suddenly showing up, just as things were heating up with his assignment. He considered if Kenward could be behind her return. No, he doubted it, as she'd told them both a final good-bye the same night. Whatever brought her here, it couldn't have anything to do with his special project.
* * * * *
Constance greeted Mr. and Mrs. Dalton and inquired about their children. She caught a glimpse of Nate from the corner of her eye, but ignored him as best she could. He would find her eventually. She needed to have her story firmly in place and believable by then.
Mingling, while trying not to think how handsome he looked in the dark coat cut in the newest style, she carefully spread her tale of being tired of living alone at what was left of Teague Oaks. The chore proved easier than she'd thought possible. Most ladies knew of a widower or a late bloomer who was on the market and they began inviting her to all manner of parties and balls. Delighted, she accepted several invitations, danced with several eligible men, and even agreed to a walk in the park the following afternoon.
So, the Lady has decided it is time to marry again. Well, good luck to her and whoever she ensnares. If he had time, Nate would have her bedded, out of his system, and forgotten, and they could both get on with their lives. But there would be no chance for his own pursuits. If he was to finish this, he must set things in motion, and quickly. He watched her twirl around the floor, laughing whilst having a wonderful time. He'd have one dance with her first, just to remind her what she was missing.
Tapping a younger gentleman on the shoulder, Nathaniel stepped into place and swung Constance about the ballroom floor before she could refuse.
When her startled blue eyes met his deep, dark gaze, he smiled. "Hello, Lady Constance. What a pleasure to find you've rejoined polite society." He pulled her closer with each twirl and allowed his hand to drift a bit lower on her back.
Instead of pulling away as a lady should, Constance smiled in return. "Why, Nathaniel. How nice to see you again. I've decided 'tis past time. One can only spend so much time tending roses and reading. Teague Oaks practically runs itself with Mr. Barr as manager and less land to tend. Now, whatever have you been up to?"
Yes, the little cat is definitely up to something. "Not much, love. A few parties and I've purchased a ship or two to keep me occupied." He actually owned a fleet of the new steam ships and they were doing quite well with runs to France and Spain carrying both passengers and cargo. He would be content to oversee their success once this last little thing was accomplished.
"Ships? I never quite pictured you as a sea-faring man." She laughed deep in her throat.
Nate's body tightened at the sensual sound as he pictured her laughing like that against his bare chest. His reactions would soon become obvious if he didn't put some distance between himself and Constance. But he didn't... He waited to see what she would do.
Even through layers of petticoats and her gown, Constance felt his desire as he held her closer than was proper. She should move away, or protest, or run and hide... But something about this man and her yearning to learn things, intimate secrets, kept her glued to the front of him. Warmth flooded her and she felt color rising on her cheeks. In for a penny, in for a pound, Constance decided, and pressed nearer as she stroked his left shoulder with the tips of her fingers.
Nate closed his eyes and swallowed hard. She'd definitely met
his challenge and upped the ante. He wanted her more than any woman he'd ever met. He leaned his mouth near her ear and growled, "Come with me..." He insistently took her arm and urged her toward the staircase.
Constance hesitated, but only for a moment. Her orders were to get close to Nathaniel Weston. She had a feeling she was about to do just that and enjoy it immensely along the way. No telling what secrets she would learn.
But they might not have a thing to do with President Johnson.
Chapter Five
Nate hustled her along the second floor hallway of the mansion looking for a suitable bedroom, a private parlor, even an uninhabited nook. Everywhere he turned more people wandered the halls. Several young ladies giggled and shrieked as he shoved open one door then hastily withdrew.
At last, he drew her into a corner room, a small empty sitting room containing a rocker and a sewing basket alongside a settee. He cursed beneath his breath as he found there was no latch on the door. "Well, hell," he muttered and turned her so her back pressed against the solid wood.
Before she could think, much less protest, his head swooped down and his lips took hers. Took being the truth, as he devoured her lips like a thirsty man gulping water. Constance gasped at the heated pressure trying to draw her very soul from her mouth. His tongue surged against hers in a way she'd never experienced. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck and her tongue dueled with his. Stroke after stroke delved inside, driving her nearly mad as he emulated the act of mating within her mouth.
Constance thought she might faint from lack of oxygen before he broke the kiss and moved to her neck with his taunting, nibbling lips and teeth. His hands worked at the fasteners of her gown and chemise then he rolled the neckline down beneath her breasts. She heard him groan as he both offered and demanded pleasure. Her knees weakened and only the pressure of his strong body kept her upright.
Nate wanted more of her. He felt her shudder every time he touched her. He could feast on her for hours if not for the yearning, burning pressure building within, a need that began years ago, which he intended to satisfy here, now.
Sliding one hand from his neck, Constance raked it across the taut fabric of his shirt. His waistcoat hindered her efforts to touch his chest and she hastily jerked it down his arms. Then she had no patience for all the buttons on his shirt keeping her from the hairy firmness of his chest. With a strong tug, buttons pinged in all directions and she reached her goal.
"Constance, love... I've missed you," he whispered with a deep groan and kissed her again.
His busy hands began drawing the skirt of her gown up around her waist. Nate grumbled again as he encountered layers of petticoats. How many of the accursed things does she have on? After tearing two ribbons and some lace, they finally dropped to pool around her feet.
Cool air against her body and the feel of wood against her buttocks made Constance aware her bloomers were also lost in the pile somewhere. A tiny complaint began in her throat, but turned into a moan of pleasure as his fingers worked such magic. Her hand stroked his abdomen in return.
His mouth brought a frenzy of need within her and she almost growled as she dragged her nails across his sides, trying to draw him closer still. He needed no more encouragement. Nate grasped her left leg, lifting it to his waist as he stepped closer at the same time he reclaimed her mouth.
Constance whined in her throat as his tongue entered her mouth at the same time he became a part of her. A shiver and another whine escaped her.
She'd not had a man in a long time. He needed to remember that and not hurt her. But his every urge was to take her hard and fast. If he gave in, he would be lost in her. So he held back, forcing himself to wait, to take her slowly.
He pushed his tongue against hers once more and cautiously moved. She quivered continuously now and mewled like a kitten around his tongue. Her hand knotted in his hair.
She opened herself to the newly awakened passions pouring through her body. A strangled scream erupted from her throat as pleasure, joy, and a release such as she'd never known tore through her body.
When Nate buried his mouth in her neck, her head lolled back to expose her tender throat, completely at his mercy. His completion came upon him and he groaned as he tightened his grip on her and almost crushed her against the door.
Her limbs went limp and refused to cooperate as she trembled and panted.
Nate could only lean her against the door and gasp for air. He'd never had a woman like her and at thirty-three, he'd had his share. His forehead dropped to her neck and he wanted nothing more than to hold her close and sleep for hours before re-staking his claim to her body.
Constance turned her lips to caress Nate's jaw as his head rested against her. Her husband had loved her, but he'd never given her anything near this exquisite pleasure. She wondered if that would have changed had he survived the War. Her mind began working again and she shifted, her present position growing uncomfortable. "Nate... I must..."
"I know. In a moment," he breathed into her ear. He finally eased back a step to withdraw from her as he let her legs slide down his thighs so her feet could touch the floor. Keeping his hands at her waist, he held her until she steadied. "A redhead all over, aren't you, love?" He teased as his eyes feasted on the beautiful unclothed flesh before him.
"Enough of that." Heat consumed her, as if she blushed all over.
Nate grinned as he handed her a folded handkerchief. Then he turned away to adjust his breeches and repair his shirt as best he could while offering her a moment of privacy. He walked over to stare out the window at the guests strolling on the grounds along lantern lit paths. He felt her presence as she walked up behind him.
"What are you up to, Constance?"
Stunned at his question, she wasn't sure how to answer. After a moment, she asked him the same. "What are you up to, Nate? I'm here to find out if I want to marry again, perhaps to end a loneliness I find especially distasteful of late." She sighed, then admitted, "I want children, before I'm too old to enjoy them. But why are you back here, instead of off captaining your ships or having an adventure somewhere?"
"Maybe I'm also tired of being alone." He let a long, deep breath escape then went on, "But we both know we're lying to each other, love. I won't have you interfering in my plans, if that's why you're here." Nate turned to stare down into the eyes of the woman he'd enjoyed only minutes before.
She met his dark, intense gaze without flinching. "And just what are those plans, Nate? What have you become involved in? I owe you my life several times over. I still trust you. Whatever you are doing, you have a good reason. Explain it to me," she requested as she placed her hand on his arm and tried to ignore the chest revealed by the gaping of his buttonless shirt. "Please..."
He smiled. "You're good... Very good. Kenward was right to send you. And he did send you, didn't he? He knew I wouldn't be able to resist you. Now I've had you, I'm still not satisfied. I could take you again, right now. You are definitely a distraction, which I'm sure was his intent. But I can't let myself be distracted, Constance. This is too important. I'm sorry, love." With that said, he clipped her on the chin with his fist and caught her as she fell.
Chapter Six
Head throbbing, her mouth dry, and feeling a bit disoriented, Constance pushed herself to a sitting position on the bed. Where am I? What in the name of glory happened?
An oil sconce cast a soft glow about the unfamiliar room. She fingered her achy chin and tried to remember, but drew a blank. Struggling to stand, she realized her legs were also tender and she felt sore and ill-used. She smiled to herself as she thought of how that happened, at least. Nate. Locating a pitcher and bowl, she poured water, rinsed her mouth, and washed her face. Her mind cleared a bit.
The snake! He hit me.
Constance found the door to the small bedroom locked. This definitely was not the sewing room where she'd been with Nate earlier. She rattled the doorknob and pounded, then called out until she was hoarse, but no one answered. A tiny window, too high for her to reach and covered with soot and dust, fit into the wall across from the door. Pacing, she took stock of her surroundings.
A chamber pot with a lid sat in one corner beneath a cane-bottomed straight chair, the pitcher and bowl resided on a small ramshackle table, a narrow bed almost filled one wall – the complete furnishings, she discovered. Alternately walking around the small space and sitting on the bed, Constance worried away the hours. She didn't even know if it was daylight or dark, the window too dirty to reveal anything.
She must have dozed off, she decided, as she woke to hear sounds outside the door. She jumped up, rushing to the door where she pounded and screamed.
"Back away from the door, Lady. I'll feed ya, but you gotta back away," a male voice called to her from the other side.
"All right. Just please don't leave," Constance pleaded. She backed away from the door and heard a key rattling in the lock.
An older man, stocky and gray-bearded, warily entered carrying a basket. "Now you stay right back, Lady. I've me orders to follow and I don't want to hurt you none."
"Of... Of course not. I'll do as you ask. But please, tell me where I am. Where's Nathaniel Weston? He did bring me here, didn't he?"
"Mr. Nate, he ain't here jest now, but he'll be back. Said I was to see to your food and water, empty the necessary when needed, and keep oil in the lamp 'til he comes back." The old man set the basket on the table, moved the pitcher and bowl to the floor, and positioned the chair. "Here ya are, Lady. Come eat your meal whilst I do me other chores."
Constance moved to the chair and gingerly sat down. She uncovered the basket to find sliced ham, biscuits, and a hunk of cheese. Pushing the food away, she followed her jailor with her eyes. "Where am I?" she asked again.
"We be down by the docks, at the storehouse. Mr. Nate, he sleeps here oft times when he's expecting a ship in. Cozy, ain't it?"
So still in Charleston, Constance was glad to hear. Hopefully, she could find a way out and reach Thaddeus. As much as it pained her to admit, it seemed he might be right about Nate and his plans. "What's your name? Do you work for Mr. Nate all the time?" She hoped the more she learned the better chance she'd have of escaping.
"I be called Calvin, Lady. And I work reg'lar for Mr. Nate. Now, you ought to eat that food. No matter how nice ya are to me, I'll not let you out. Not 'til Mr. Nate says so."
"Why does Nate want to keep me here? What could I do?" Constance reached for a biscuit and nibbled to please the old man.
Calvin chuc
kled. "He warned me you be a wily one. He said you's apt to get yourself and him hurt, so I'll jest be doing as I was told. I's got to get the lamp oil. If'n you don't want to set in the dark, ya'd best stay put and let me get it."
"I would definitely like the lamp refilled, please. I'll stay in my chair until you get the oil," Constance promised. But she didn't promise what she'd do after he returned.
* * * * *
The oil container must have been sitting not far outside the door as Calvin quickly returned with it. He nodded his approval to find her still in one spot, nibbling at the food he'd brought.
Constance waited until he turned his back to fill the wall lamp, stealthily lifted the unused chamber pot, and swung at his head. He went down as if dead. She did hope she hadn't hurt him too badly. He was just following orders, after all. Grabbing the ring of keys from his belt, Constance lifted his money from his pocket. She'd need to hire a carriage. Then she locked Calvin in the small room and fled.
Creeping along carefully, she avoided the men working at moving crates and bundles inside the storehouse as she made her way to a large open door. She slipped outside to find the sun already up and decided it to be not long after dawn. The docks teemed with men and a few women going about their work.
Her wrinkled gown with the pink roses and green satin was woefully out of place among the drab, simple work clothes around her, Constance saw. But it couldn't be helped. She hurried along, hoping to reach Broad Street and find a Hansom cab before anyone discovered she'd escaped.
"Lady... Miss? Is you a'right?" A woman of color with a strong French accent, a Geechee, approached her with concern.
"I... I need a carriage, please. A man... he abandoned me here last night. I..."
"Why, you poor honey-lamb. I'll take you to the cabstand my own self. You just come on with Mama Rosa. Men – beasts, the whole lot a' them," she sympathized. The woman patted Constance on the shoulder and led her through the workmen and chaos.
Finding Love the Hard Way Page 11
