“No. Listen, and she repeated it the way she had heard it the last time he said it. “Lorsque la lune remplit l’étang/Offrez-argent/Et marcher sur les faisceaux de lumière/à un autre moment.”
There was something about the moon and silver and time. Even as she translated it in her head, he was several steps ahead of her. “When the moon fills the pond/Offer it silver/And walk on the beams of light/to another time.” He looked at her, eyes wide. “It’s not a magic spell. It’s instructions!”
“When the moon fills the pond,” she said. “It must mean a full moon, and the moon has to be reflected in the water. It was like that the night I came.”
“And silver,” he said. “You were right about that.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. There was a way for her to get home. But not until the next full moon. That was almost a month away.
Sam must have been thinking along the same lines, because suddenly he grabbed her hand. “Would it be wrong to marry you and have you as my wife for the next month?” The words came out as hardly more than a whisper, but this time she knew she had heard him correctly.
“No.” The answer came automatically, but she’d only known him a few days. Did she want to marry someone who she barely knew and who she would be then separated from forever after? How was that really any better than hooking up with someone you met at a bar for a one-night stand? When she got married she wanted it to be real, and to be forever. But her heart ached to be with Sam. Forever. Why couldn’t they have that? Why was life so unfair? “I don’t know.” She choked on the words, not wanting to admit any hesitation.
Sam bent his head over her hands. “It would be wrong.” The words sounded strangled, as if it pained him to admit it. “But yet, I want you so badly.”
She leaned over his head and whispered in his ear. “Then come upstairs with me.”
His head jerked up so quickly, she was lucky they didn’t collide. “You don’t mean it.”
Did she? She’d never done anything like this before, but she’d never been in a situation like this before, where it really felt as if there was no time. There’d always been time before to get to know someone, to develop a relationship, but not now. At the most they had until the next full moon. Maybe less if Sam had to leave with his unit. Why waste time?
He kissed her hands. “I do want you, but it wouldn’t be right.”
“Forget what’s right. Can’t we do what we want?” She couldn’t believe she was suggesting it. This wasn’t her at all, but maybe that was the problem, she’d never really gone after something she wanted before.
There was a small chuckle from Sam. “So very tempting, but I have not yet broken my engagement to Dinah, and I won’t come to your bed unless I am free to be there.”
She wanted to say ‘Forget Dinah,’ but the more rational part of her brain kicked in. She was not the kind of person who slept with another girl’s boyfriend or fiancé. Okay, quite frankly, she was not the kind of person to sleep with anyone. No relationship ever got to the point where that felt right. Why was this different? Was it really right or was she caught up in the moment? How could a person make sure?
“Perhaps we should finish the brandy.” He let go of her hands so he could stand up, retrieve the glasses, and hand her one. He sat down next to her, so close their thighs touched.
“So, am I allowed to accept your marriage proposal?” She smiled at him over the top of her glass.
His eyes opened wider in surprise. “Would you?”
“You don’t think I would offer to go to bed with someone I wouldn’t marry?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Emily smiled at him, feeling her heart expand with love for him. “Sam, I want to be with you more than anything.”
“But we can’t. I’m going to war.”
“Not yet.” She held onto that thought like a talisman. “Not yet.”
“Soon. And if I don’t come back… You know I won’t, don’t you?”
She couldn’t lie to the man she was offering to sleep with.
“The wedding I was at, before I fell though time, was here, at this house, only it was an inn and your portrait—the one in the hall—still is there and I saw it and thought how adorable you are and the woman who runs the place said ‘That’s Samuel Marshal. This used to be his house. He died in the Civil War.’ ”
Next to her a shiver run through Sam’s body. “That’s that then.”
“Maybe not.” She wanted more than anything for it to not be true. “Perhaps the lady was wrong. I mean, maybe that’s the story that got handed down, but it didn’t really happen.”
“There’s no way to know.” His voice was thick, and she hated that she’d ever let him know what she’d heard. Maybe it would have been better to let him have hope. But hope didn’t have to be completely gone.
“There’s no way to know if anyone going into battle is going to survive. But you might. It could happen.” How many times were lists wrong or bodies not properly identified? Anything was possible. They couldn’t give up hope.
Sam shook his head and there was a certain finality to the set of his jaw. “I will not have you wait here for me on the very small possibility that I might survive. I’ll be able to rest easier if I know you are safely back in your own time where you belong.”
The thing was she had no objection to going to her own time, she just didn’t want to leave Sam, but he was leaving her soon regardless. She took a sip of her brandy. He wrapped one arm around her and she relaxed into him.
“You know.” There was hope in his voice, as if he’d reached a conclusion he liked. “It might be for the best if we do get married.”
“Really?” She craned her neck so she could look into his face and he smiled at her.
“If you can’t get home again, which is a possibility we have to consider, and you were married to me you’d have the protection of the plantation and my family. It would keep you safe.”
As safe as anyone could be in a war zone, Emily thought. As much as she didn’t want to think of the possibility of not being able to get home, he was right.
“Would you do that? Marry me to keep me safe?” She snuggled close, feeling so loved and protected it was almost scary.
“Not only that. I want to spend forever with you, and if forever is only a month, well then, we’ll spend a month together.”
“A month won’t be nearly enough.” When she thought of forever, she always thought of it lasting more than a few short weeks.
“If it’s all we have, then it’s plenty.” There was confidence and cheer in his voice again. They would find a way to make this work. “Tomorrow I’ll get things sorted with Dinah, and write to my parents, they’ll want to be here of course.”
“For what?” she asked and took another sip of brandy.
“The wedding of course.”
“Wedding.”
Now why when they talked about being married had she not considered a wedding? She rather imagined that they would go out in a forest glade, perhaps by the waterfall and take each other’s hands and promise themselves to each other, after all they didn’t have time to plan a wedding. But, of course if it were to be official and help her should she need it there would have to be things done properly. And of course his parents would be there. A small pang pierced her heart. Her parents wouldn’t be here. Or Dayna. How could she get married and not have Dayna by her side? How could she not have her father walk her down the aisle?
“What’s wrong?” He peered into her eyes, his forehead wrinkled in concern.
“My family. They can’t be at the wedding. I always thought they would be with me when I got married.”
He hugged her tighter. “There’s really not much we can do about that, but if you’d rather not get married…” he let the words trail off.
“I want to,” she insisted. “I do. I guess I have to adjust my expectations.” Then she remembered that he had lost one fiancée to sickness and would soon h
ave to go fight in a war that he didn’t want. Hers were not the only expectations that needed to be adjusted.
She was taking a crazy leap here, but it didn’t feel crazy at all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sam
Tobias brought him a cup of coffee along with the shaving things in the morning.
“No time.” Sam was already pulling his pants on and adjusting the braces over his shoulders. “I’ve got to get Wilkins to town before anything happens.” He grabbed the cup and took a few quick gulps. That would have to do him for now. “Have Moses hitch up the wagon,” he instructed and headed out the door.
The sun was barely over the horizon as he stepped outside into the cool morning air. The grass was wet with dew and the air smelled fresh and full of promise. Once he got Wilkins to town he could relax and think about the other tasks he needed to accomplish today. Not that the other tasks were much more pleasant. He rather wished he hadn’t promised to enlist with George, and Dinah was not going to be happy at all to have him break the engagement.
Today was really a day better spent in bed, despite the promising glow of the early morning.
The one good thing he had to look forward to was spending time with Emily. How she had managed to steal his heart in such a short time he might never know, but he did know that he hadn’t felt like this about someone since Anna. That had to mean something.
He approached the smokehouse, and there was no one standing guard. His shoulders tensed, and he clenched his fists. Perhaps there was a perfectly logical explanation. Most likely the slaves had to get out to the fields. They all started their day early. That had to be it. And besides, the smokehouse was locked tight, and Wilkins was tied up. What difference could it really make if someone stood outside the door or not?
He slid back the bolt on the door and peered inside. He didn’t see much before a punch to the jaw laid him flat on his back. Wilkins leaped over him and ran. Sam jumped up to chase him, but his head swam and his vision was full of spots. He closed his eyes momentarily to settle the spinning in his head. When he opened them, Wilkins was already out of sight, and Sam couldn’t be sure which direction he had gone.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Marcus and some of the other slaves came running toward him.
“Where was the guard?” Sam sputtered. “Which way did he go? Did you see?”
“Into the woods.” Marcus pointed to where leaves still rustled in the wake of the fleeing man. “Want me to chase him down?”
Sam tried to make his mind work logically. Of course it would be nice to have someone else chase Wilkins down, but that wasn’t likely to end well. Besides, he’d made Marcus the overseer, which meant he had a job to do this morning.
“No. Run up to the stable and tell Moses to saddle Echo. I’ll stand a better chance of catching him on horseback.”
Within minutes he was seated on his horse and heading in the direction he hoped Wilkins had gone. He spurred his horse to go faster and faster, ignoring brambles and branches that smacked him in the face and arms as he careened down the path. After fifteen minutes of hard riding, he had to admit that he would have caught up with him had Wilkins actually gone this way.
He pulled his panting horse to a halt. There was little to no way to find him, wandering blindly around the woods, especially when there was no guarantee he’d even gone this way to start with. But he needed to protect Emily from him. Right now, Wilkins might be back at the house causing problems. That thought alone was enough to make him turn Echo toward home and gallop back nearly as quickly as they had left.
Moses met him by the stable.
“Did he come back here?” Sam demanded, gulping for breath.
“No sign of him, Mister Sam.”
That was good. His heartbeat started to come back to normal; it became easier to breathe. Wilkins wasn’t here, but he didn’t know where he was, and until he did, he could not rest easy. “I’m going in to town to alert the sheriff. You get Tobias to keep an eye on Miss Parks. I don’t want her left alone.”
Sam turned once more, urging his indefatigable horse into town. He scanned the roadside as he rode, hoping to catch a glimpse of Wilkins, but he saw nothing before getting to town. He dismounted in front of the large brick building that served as courthouse and jail and tied Echo to the hitching post.
He took the marble steps two at a time and once inside strode quickly to Sheriff Fallow’s office.
The sheriff, a friend of his father, who had spent many evening at Bonne Terra, looked up when he walked in. The older man smiled. “What can I do for you, Sam? I trust your father is well.”
“My father is fine, thank you,” Sam answered, eager to be done with the pleasantries and get to business. “But I have a problem.” As succinctly as he could, he laid out the situation for the sheriff, not even bothering to drop into the seat that sat empty opposite the sheriff’s desk.
Sheriff Fallow listened carefully, steepling his fingers as he took in the information.
“Do you have proof of his stealing?” He sat back in his chair and idly picked up a paper knife.
“I do,” Sam answered. “At least I have proof that the numbers in the ledgers don’t add up, but that what he was hiding under tarps in his cabin goes a long way to making up the numbers. Seems fairly conclusive.”
“Perhaps,” Fallow said, tapping the knife on the table. “But you don’t have proof he put it there, do you? Could have been one of the slaves.”
Sam said nothing. He supposed that Wilkins could say that in his defense, and what proof would Sam have that he was lying? None.
“There’s more.” He hadn’t wanted to bring up the assault on Emily. He preferred to leave her out of this, but if he wanted Fallow to take the situation seriously, he would have to tell him everything.
Fallow’s frown deepened while Sam told his story.
“Very serious allegations.” Fallow still fiddled with the knife.
“They are.” Sam wanted to snatch the knife from his hands, to make him understand how urgent this matter was.
“Hard to prove.” Fallow used the knife to scratch the back of his neck.
Sam wanted to scream at him. What would Fallow consider proof? If he’d seen it for himself. He gripped the back of the chair in front of him and fought to keep his voice calm. “There’s a witness.”
“A slave child.” Fallow raised one eyebrow to show what he thought of that witness. “You know full well that no judge is going to admit the evidence of either a slave or a child. Or a woman,” he added softly.
Sam tapped his foot in frustration. “I need to make sure he stays away from Miss Parks.”
“Certainly you can keep her safe.” The sheriff finally put down the knife.
“I’ve agreed to enlist. I don’t know how long I’ll be around.” Even saying the words were difficult. This would all be hard enough without the damn war.
“But this Miss Parks, certainly she won’t be around here much longer, she’ll be returning to her family.”
“I’m going to marry her,” Sam blurted out, surprised at how good it felt to share his secret.
Fallow’s eyebrows jumped up. “But Miss Johnson…”
Sam dropped into the chair. “It’s a long story,” he said. “The thing is that I don’t know if I’ll be around to protect her.”
“Sam,” Fallow said, his tone paternal, “let me give you some advice. Send Miss Parks home. Don’t marry Miss Johnson if you don’t feel so inclined, but send Miss Parks home. When this war is over, which God-willing won’t last long, you can sort out what you want to do. But Miss Parks needs to be with her people. They will protect her from Wilkins.”
If only it were that simple.
“You may be right.” It was easier to agree than to explain why he was so very wrong. “But what about Wilkins?”
“I’ll keep an eye out for him. I’ll bring him in if I see him, but I want you to be prepared that the charges may not stick.”
Sam
rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the stubble on his chin because he’d not shaved this morning. His stomach rumbled, because he’d forgone breakfast. And all for what? Nothing. Wilkins had gotten away and might never have to pay for what he’d done.
He sighed and stood. “I thank you for your time.”
“Sam, I don’t mean to discourage you. I’m being realistic. If we find him, we will do everything we can to make sure justice is done.”
“Of course.” Sam wasn’t entirely certain he believed that. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He walked back outside, unsatisfied with how the morning had gone. He untied his horse. He should go home and get cleaned up and eat something, and then he could see Dinah and explain to her that they were not meant to be. He should do that, but he was already most of the way to the Johnson place now, and really, why put off the inevitable? Perhaps the news that he was breaking their engagement would be easier for her to take if he wasn’t well-groomed when he did it.
He mounted Echo and headed toward his next unpleasant task.
Even as he stood on the front porch waiting to be given entry to the house, he had no idea what to say. Dinah was a sweet girl, really she was. She deserved someone who could truly love her. Maybe that was the best way to bring the subject up. He was shown into the parlor, and he paced the room, staring at objects and paintings he’d seen dozens of times, but not really seeing them this time, as he waited for Dinah to appear.
“Sam! What a pleasant surprise,” she trilled from the doorway.
He turned to her and wanted to smile but found he couldn’t. She was beautiful, that much was true, and her dress was stylish and fit perfectly, but she wasn’t Emily and never could be.
“I’ve been so busy making plans for the wedding. Do you think our ballroom is better suited to the dance, or should we have it at Bonne Terra? Papa would be sad if he thought he could not send me off in style, but it wouldn’t do to squash the guests.”
Sam shook his head, momentarily voiceless.
“What’s the matter?” Dinah came forward and took his hand. “Has something happened? You look positively morbid! Is it your parents, or Elizabeth?”
Emily's Song Page 20
