But she hadn’t known then what waited. Innocent, she had begged for more of the pleasure he offered; his tender tutoring found her a most willing pupil. And in one blazing night of glory, she had discovered that sharing emotions only enhanced the physical joy they gave to each other.
She wanted to share that glory again.
There was an added intoxication of knowing…of anticipating.
“Colter…I want you, I…” She stopped, chafing against the restriction of their clothing as their bodies began to rock together. It was a delicious dance of seduction whose beat held a gentle rage of privation.
His lips fell upon hers with a bruising intensity. She elicited a raw passion in him that overwhelmed thought and clouded his mind. Elizabeth came alive with a thirsting pleasure beneath his hands. Her ragged cry drove him wild as she dug her fingers into the straining muscles of his arms.
Colter suddenly gentled his assault on her mouth. He rimmed her lips with his tongue, grazed her cheek and captured the soft lobe of her ear with a suckling motion.
“Need, love,” he whispered, tracing the delicate whorls of her ear, eliciting another, deeper tremble of her body. “I need you so badly it’s tearing me up.” His lips wandered to her throat and the heat and scent of her aroused skin sent his blood pumping hotly through him. “And I’ll please you, little fox,” he promised, his voice scorched with passion.
He lowered her to the ground, the thick carpet of leaves crushing beneath the twist of their bodies as he followed her down. His caress of her hip, her rib cage and belly held none of the courting finesse he once used. There was an urgency to his touch that he couldn’t still, desperate to release the buttons on her bodice so his lips could taste the silken flesh it concealed.
Elizabeth pushed at his shirt, tearing a button free to slide her hand inside. His chest was hot, the hair soft, and she tossed her head wildly to feel the pounding of his heart. Need. She needed water and air, needed her daughter, but Colter…his need became hers. Life. Love. Fire…Her back arched in invitation, the chill air only a momentary distraction, for Colter’s lips soon spread heat and moisture across her exposed collarbone. She guided his head down and his mouth teased the swell of her breast.
So long. It had been years since she had come alive for him, every nerve singing with passion. And James had stolen the years with his lies. So long…She knew he shared the wildness that raged inside her.
“Be gentle, Colter…please, love,” she cried out, losing her voice as his mouth closed over her and he began suckling. Her fingers clutched his head, holding him, her body racked with tremors that stoked a flame into fire. Again and again she cried out for tenderness, even as pleasure so intense surged forth to dissipate fear.
But Colter heard her cry at last and eased his mouth from the berry-hard tip covered by the wet, sheer lawn of her camisole. “Sweet blessed heaven, Elizabeth,” he whispered, dazed and raw. Hurting from the ravenous hunger that seared like wildfire in his blood, he tensed with an agony he couldn’t hide and shifted his weight from her.
“Colter?”
He shook his head, unable to look at her. “I’ve never lost control like this, never! I almost took you here like a camp whore…” His hoarse, stunned voice trailed away. He rolled to his side, one arm flung out, clawing the earth, the other covering his eyes.
“Get back to the house.” He fought to drag air into his lungs, welcoming the sharp chill of it, hoping it would quickly cool his body. When he sensed that she remained as he left her, his rage against himself snapped. “Get the hell away from me!” he lashed out with a savageness that could leave her no choice but to obey. “Move, Elizabeth. Damn you, go, or the love I claim is a lie.” The touch of her hand made him jerk away. “What devils you?”
She found her voice at last. “You knew? You knew what names Alma called me?” She staggered to her feet, uncaring that her bodice gaped open. Pressing her hands to her mouth, she stifled the scream inside. Elizabeth did not cry, but slowly backed away from his prone body, shamed.
The mention of Alma’s name and what followed slammed into his gut like a fist. “I didn’t know!” He came to his feet. “How can I know what you won’t tell me?”
To her ears, his tone condemned her. “She was right.” With her stomach churning, she turned, ignoring his plea to listen to him. Alma was right. She hadn’t cared where they were, her need demanded that Colter ease the torment of her body. Again and again, Colter called her name, but she was running. Running not from Colter, but from herself.
With impotent fury Colter watched her disappear. His body still fought a battle with his mind. Emotions ran riot with need.
But there was no choice. From the moment he had found Elizabeth again, there never had been. At a run, he went after her.
Chapter Nine
Elizabeth lay where she had tripped and fallen. She heard Colter whispering her name, shivered and huddled her body so he couldn’t find her. But minutes later, he lifted her up into his arms, and without a word, carried her into the house.
With his foot he dragged a bench closer to the kitchen fire, then he set her down gently. She sat while he added kindling and small logs to the banked coals. She lost track of time as he left and returned, offering her a glass of brandy.
“Drink it down, Elizabeth, and then we’ll talk.” Colter tossed off his own drink, refilled his glass from the bottle he brought with him and sat beside her.
Sipping gingerly at the liquor, Elizabeth watched the flames greedily lick at the wood. With the glass clasped between his hands, Colter drew her gaze as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his spread knees. The growing light flickered shadows over his face, and she welcomed the burning swallow of brandy she took to help still the clamor of her body.
She still wanted him.
He saw the tremble of her hand and set his glass down to remove his coat. She was shaking by the time he draped it over her shoulders. For a moment he stood behind her, wanting to touch, to bring cessation to the seething emotions he sensed in her. He didn’t trust himself to be gentle. Picking up his glass, he sat staring at the fire.
Impatient to begin, he looked at her glass and realized that Elizabeth, given any more time, would build a solid wall he couldn’t hope to break down. He was a soldier, he reminded himself, good at his job. He knew how to find a weakness in an enemy’s fortification.
“I apologize,” he stated abruptly, “for what I said. I was angry with myself for losing control, not you.”
“Forgiveness? Acquittal? Whatever it is that you want, Colter, you have it. But, please, if you have any mercy, leave the matter be.”
In a very controlled, soft voice he asked, “Have you already twisted what I said? Do you believe that I called you ‘whore’?” His fingers clenched the glass until his knuckles whitened. “Have you, Elizabeth?” he repeated without looking at her. He didn’t dare glance her way. His control was shredding. “You asked me for mercy, madam. If you have any of your own, you will answer me.” Every breath he drew was released slowly. He was trying. He was!
“Damn you! I did not call you a whore!” Shattered glass punctuated his caustic cry. The flames leaped out at them, fueled by the splash of brandy.
Devastated by his explosion, Elizabeth dropped her own glass.
“Why the hell don’t you run now?”
“I can’t, Colter,” she whispered, knowing it was the truth. “I told you last night, there is nowhere left to go.”
The utter defeat of her voice defused his rage. He was stunned by how quickly she had unwound him. Colter looked at her and saw in her eyes pain and acceptance.
“What have I done to you?” he asked, almost of himself. His hand shook as he reached out to touch her cheek. Soft. So soft. But her skin was cold. “I thought to bring you my protection against whatever might harm you. Instead, I find that you most need protection from me.”
His voice was tormented. His eyes reflected the agony in his soul. Elizabeth wanted to clo
se her eyes, seal her heart and deny him the comfort he needed from her. But her hand rose, not to push his away, but to cover it, pressing its warmth to her cheek.
“I would not have you leave without peace between us. I have no right to the protection you offer, but I will accept it for Nicole.” She saw the storm gathering in his eyes before she felt the tension in his hand. “You must listen and accept what I say. I will not try to stop you from seeing her whenever you can, nor will I deny Emily and the others what you can do to ease their lot. But I am to blame for what happened out there tonight—me, Colter, not you. I have forgotten that I am James’s wife—”
“No! I will not—”
“Colter.” Just this once she let the love she felt shine in her eyes. “Until I know what has happened to him, I am his wife. Until the war is over, you’re not free. If there even is a freedom to be had.”
“Your terms of compromise are harsh, Elizabeth. Perhaps I should have sought a position with the secretary of war for you.”
“But you will accept them?” she pleaded, knowing that if he did not…no, it was cruel to think of not seeing him again. With gentle persuasion she urged his hand to her lips and kissed his palm.
“I will find out what happened to James,” he proclaimed in a strident voice.
“I pray you do.”
Her sigh fluttered her breath across his palm and no more was said. But Colter had never been one to accept defeat meekly. He didn’t intend to begin now.
Like a child, Elizabeth wanted to hold back time, greedy over every moment that slipped away until it was time for Colter to leave. Her thought from the night before that she was a thief willing to steal what she could was grounded in fact. She had stolen Colter’s shirt, guiltily hiding it beneath her pillow. It turned out to be a needless act. Acting on faith that she would keep her word and allow him to return, Colter left behind whatever belongings he had brought with him.
Mister Josh led Colter’s horse to the front door, where they all waited. “Take care of this here horse, Colonel,” Josh said by way of parting, and handed over the reins.
Rutha gave him a tied napkin bundle. “’Pears I’s givin’ back your own, Colonel. Jus’ ham an’ biscuits to keep you until I get to feed you again.”
“You keep that fire going and make a little extra come supper, Rutha. I’ll be back,” he promised, tucking the bundle into his saddlebag.
“My prayers go with you, Colter,” Emily said when he turned to walk back. She blushed as prettily as a maid when he kissed her cheek and whispered something to her. Then he kneeled down and opened his arms to Nicole.
“A soldier can’t go off to fight unless his princess gives him a token.” Expecting her hug, Colter received more. Kisses. As many as she could place wherever she could reach. He used untold strength to control his own hug of her small body. Colter blessed and cursed the war that had brought him his daughter only to tear him away from her again. “Nicole,” he whispered, “you take good care of everyone for me. Especially yourself.”
She solemnly nodded. “An’ you promise—”
“I’ll remember my promise.” Reluctantly he released her and forced himself to stand. He saw Elizabeth look askance and hurried to explain, unaware that he absently rubbed his daughter’s head and held her by his side.
“Each night at five o’clock I’ve promised to look at my pocket watch and remember that Nicole will be listening to the chimes in her castle while she prays for me.”
“As I will. As we all will pray for your safety.” With a pleading look, Elizabeth found support from Emily and Rutha. Between them they managed to get Nicole to return to the house. Now Elizabeth and Colter stood alone and she didn’t know what to say. Admonishments for him to take care, keep warm and stay out of harm’s way all seemed foolish to whisper, yet those were the words that welled up. As did tears.
Bareheaded, Colter closed the distance between them. He lifted her chin and with his lips drank each tear.
“You are the only truth I have ever known. I love you, Elizabeth, and maybe…” His voice faltered, and he had to swallow before he could finish. “Maybe that is all I need to know.” His lips caressed her mouth with a tender but fleeting touch.
She closed her eyes, knowing by the creak of leather that he had mounted. When she was sure he had gone, she whispered, “Come home to me, Colter. I love you.”
Elizabeth thought she had heard the last of Colter for some time to come, but as they sat down for supper that night, a private arrived with a message from him. Rutha fed the young man and sent him on his way before Elizabeth read Colter’s missive.
Her name was scrawled in bold masculine script across the top of the parchment. With one finger she traced the letters, feeling the power of Colter’s hand, joyful that whatever its content, he had been thinking of her. But as she began to read, she chided herself for even harboring the thought that he had sent a declaration of his feelings.
I beg you, Elizabeth, to make the acquaintance of Mrs. Hugh Morgan, arrived this day in Richmond. Her husband, you will recall, is known to you and is a man I respect and count as my friend. As of this writing, her residence is uncertain. A position is being secured for her at the Treasury, likely in the note department. She is alone in our city, Elizabeth, so whatever comfort you offer to improve her lot will place me in your debt.
Colter Wade Saxton
Colonel Confederate Army
Pressing the note to her breast, she wondered what Colter would be thinking of to ask her to befriend a stranger. But no matter its content, she would treasure this first written missive from him.
Emily grew concerned at her continued silence and asked if the news could be shared. Elizabeth read her the note and then explained her own fears.
“I do not mean to make light of them, Elizabeth, but, my dear, Colter would not put you or Nicole at risk. Remember,” she stated, and then went on in a softer voice, “I may be a foolish old woman—”
“No. Never foolish, Emily.”
“Well, I believe this is his way of asking for your trust. The time he spent here has already determined your course.” Holding out her hand in both a gesture of comfort and to stop Elizabeth from speaking, Emily gently squeezed the younger woman’s fingers. “The way is a difficult one, with hard choices. You know you have my support. And what possible harm could come from doing as he asked and making this woman’s acquaintance? You need say no more than you wish if you find she is not to your liking.”
“You’re right.” Freeing her hand, Elizabeth folded her letter and smoothed it on her lap. “But Emily, I did meet Hugh Morgan and he knows I’m married. If this—”
“Do you believe Colter would leave you exposed to a lie?”
“I don’t know. But if his wife asks, if anyone overheard her reveal who I am…I know you’ve told me that Alma couldn’t find us here, but there is a feeling I can’t explain that warns me to caution.”
“Then you must heed it,” Emily returned in her practical manner, knowing if she gave way to the fear and pain that Elizabeth expressed, the young woman would falter. “Wait until you attend work in the morning. She may not be there, and if she is, you will simply deal with the matter. If you continue this fretting, you’ll find yourself fearful and as useless to yourself and your child as a man attempting to saw sawdust. Now, I am going to retire. I suggest you do the same.”
Elizabeth nodded, indicating her agreement, but inside, the warning to be cautious flared brighter.
“The colonel say I take you,” Mister Josh insisted when Elizabeth refused his intent to drive her into the city.
“The colonel isn’t here, I am. And I will walk.”
“Now, Miz Elizabeth, the colonel warned me. He says, ‘Mister Josh, you take her an’ handle her like the mules. Ain’t much to tellin’ them ’part ’ceptin’ their ears.’”
Elizabeth glared at him, her hand still on the crochet-covered button that secured her lace collar. “You and the colonel are more like mules
than I’ll ever be.” But her protest signaled the end of her argument, and she climbed up onto the wooden seat.
It was a crisp, clear morning, the sun strengthening as they rode along at a brisk pace. Elizabeth was nervous about starting her job and all of Secretary Memminger’s warnings and expectations drove other thoughts from her mind.
They approached the city and, to distract herself, Elizabeth began to admire the gracious homes set close to the street. More than a few were elegant houses of brick, built in a style touted as Greek revival. Two stories high, they had their own stables, quarters and kitchens in the yards behind, and were ornamented by well-tended gardens. She could almost imagine the scent of roses from the vines that clung to house walls. In spring, the jessamine, azaleas and japonicas, shrub and vine would all provide a glory of color and fragrance to intoxicate the senses and make one doubt there was a war going on.
But as Mister Josh directed the team closer to the location of the Note Bureau, Elizabeth saw wounded men, and women and children with dazed faces that brought back the reality of war.
Elizabeth straightened her bonnet when Mister Josh brought the wagon to a stop in front of the building. One of two soldiers on guard duty sprang forward to help her down. She thought about telling Josh that she would walk home but dismissed the idea, unwilling to argue with him again.
“Three o’clock, Josh.”
“I’ll be waitin’.”
Feminine voices of every pitch sang a chaotic opera inside the hall and Elizabeth, bemused, stared at their comings and goings. A portly matron of considerable years, a widow by her dress, finally noticed her and asked her business. When Elizabeth explained, she was told to follow. They ascended the stairs, the widow introducing herself as Mrs. Marstand. She proceeded to inform Elizabeth that the company of the women was pleasant, the work itself was not strenuous and the atmosphere many thought more suitable to a tea party than an office.
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