Her saving grace might be her age. She was past the age society considered marriageable and if he wanted to find someone to replace Cole, it might be so difficult he’d leave her be. She didn’t mind being labeled a spinster if she had to walk through life alone. There were undoubtedly worse things than being an unmarried woman in charge of her own life, free to come and go as she pleased, free to explore pleasure.
She thought back on her most recent night with Drake and blushed. Well-raised women knew very little about their bodies, but well-raised pirates apparently knew quite a great deal. Which made her wonder if his blood was indeed contagious because bantering with him in the buggy the way she had wasn’t anything she’d planned. The words seemed to spring from a place inside she never knew existed. After making her melt the way he had, he’d deserved a heat-inducing taste of his own medicine. In hindsight, she’d enjoyed her boldness and how powerful it made her feel. She guessed a woman wasn’t supposed to acknowledge such things but being in New Orleans seemed to be remaking her in exciting new ways. It also seemed to encourage the suppressed parts of herself to rise and walk freely. She looked forward to the future, but not one chosen by her father. With that in mind she picked up her pen and began her letter.
But last night and Drake were on her mind, too. When he told her the supremacists were coming for him, she’d never been so afraid for another person in her life. The mad dash through the woods with Little Reba had been harrowing but paled in comparison to her fear for his safety. Waking up that morning, and not knowing whether her pirate was dead or alive had filled her with dread, but upon seeing him, the dread was replaced by a joy that radiated inside like the warmth of the sun.
Did it mean she was in love? How did a woman who’d had no experience with the word know? Admittedly, she enjoyed their passionate moments, but last night, the reality that she might never see him alive again, hear his voice or see his smile again, had left her heartsick. She thought back on Cole’s description of love and decided she probably was.
After finishing her letter and preparing it for the post, she was just sitting down to dinner when Drake came in. He was covered with ash, dirt, and reeking of smoke. “How are you?” she asked softly.
“I’ve been better.” He gave her plate a cursory glance. “I need to get cleaned up.”
“I’ll wait and eat with you if you’d like.”
Some of the tension he’d entered with seemed to melt away. “I would.”
“Reba said you’d be starving, so there’s enough food in the kitchen to feed all the diners at the Christophe.”
“Good. I’ll be back shortly.”
When he left, she went into the kitchen to alert Reba that he was home, then retook her spot at the dining-room table. Seeing his burned-out house this morning had filled her with such sorrow she’d wanted to weep. He’d taken such pride in showing off the place to her yesterday, letting her know the construction had been a labor of love. And now? The barely masked anguish she’d seen in his eyes after arriving with Sable and Reba had made her want to scrap lunch with Cole and stay with him, hoping her company would lift his spirits. But he’d wanted to begin clearing away the debris, and she didn’t want to be in the way. At lunch with Cole and Lenny, she’d debated whether to tell them about last night’s incident but decided to go ahead. Both men had been shocked by the story, and again voiced concerns over her decision to stay. She’d explained that turning tail and running away did nothing to help the situation. After all, the residents of New Orleans weren’t going to just pack up and leave. They had lives, families, friends, jobs. They’d stay and do the best they could to help things change, and she would do the same.
A short while later, clean and wearing a simple white shirt and dark trousers, Drake entered carrying a tray that had to be groaning under the weight of the mountain of food piled on the plates. Fried chicken, red beans and rice, yams, a plate of steamed shrimp, and a litany of other gastronomical delights, including a large piece of pie. Seeing her jaw drop, he smiled wryly and took a seat.
Digging in, he asked, “So, what did you do today?”
“Archer was nice enough to send Mr. Doolittle to drive me to the Quarter so I could have lunch with Cole and Lenny. I told them I’m going to stay in New Orleans.”
He paused. “And their reaction?”
“They took it well. Since I’m not going with them they’re going to leave on the morning train. Do you think we can take them to the train station?”
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks. I also told them about last night. They’re worried about me staying, but I told them running away won’t change anything.”
“No, it won’t.”
“How’s the cleanup going?”
He sighed. “As well as could be expected I suppose.”
“Are you going to rebuild right away?”
“No, I’ll wait until the fall when the weather cools off. In the meantime, I’ll take on some paying jobs so I can afford to rebuild. There is some good news though. Your boxcars are fine.”
“That is good news.”
“Fixing them up will help take my mind off last night.”
She saw the shadows cross his face. “I’m sorry, Drake.”
He shrugged. “It’s the price you pay for demanding justice, I suppose. I’m just glad it was my place and not this one.” He took a slow look around the dining room, and said wistfully, “This house holds so many memories: parties, christenings, arguments, laughter. The family would’ve been heartbroken had something happened to it, especially Mama. My place had none, other than the ones I had from building it. Hopefully the replacement will stand as long as this one and be filled with just as many good memories.”
Moved by that, she wondered what it might be like to share a lifetime of memories with him. “That’s a wonderful way of looking at it.”
“It’s all I have.” Then, as if needing to change the subject, he said, “Tell me what you plan to teach once the boxcars are ready?”
She mulled the question over for a moment and replied with a request of her own. “When you begin rebuilding, do you think you’d have time to teach some of the students your skills?”
He forked up some gumbo. “Such as?”
“How to use hammers and saws. Lay bricks. Those sorts of thing?”
“I don’t see why not. How often?”
“A day or two a week to start. Teaching them to be employable will be just as important as learning to read and write, don’t you think?”
“I do.”
“Do you think I can convince one of your brothers to teach navigation? Back home, it was one of the subjects the boys got to study along with astronomy.”
“I can’t speak for them, but you can certainly ask.”
“I’d let the girls study the subjects, too, if they wanted. Unlike Mrs. Brown I don’t think it would be a waste.”
“Who’s she?”
“The woman who headed up the school I attended.”
“Is that what you were told? That studying such subjects was a waste?”
“Yes. In her words a woman’s role was to maintain the household, raise children, and support her husband’s endeavors,” Val snarled and his smile made her show him hers. “When I refused to learn to knit, she made me sit outside in the snow as punishment.”
“Sounds like you and Mrs. Brown crossed swords often.”
“There were some days I wished for a sword. I’m not sure who was worse, her or my father.”
“What did your mother have to say about all the ruckus you were causing?”
“To stop being such a troublemaker and do what I was told. My grandmother Rose was the only person who took my side. She said I needed to be more respectful though, and she was correct, because sometimes my sassiness was a bit much.”
“An example?”
“Mrs. Brown once told us that we women should be content letting men make our decisions, and I told her that if my grandmothe
r had believed that, she’d have spent her life as a slave instead of running away from her owner.”
“You had a good point.”
“She didn’t appreciate it. Made me write ‘I will not sass my betters’ one hundred times.”
“Did you learn your lesson?”
“Yes, I learned that Mrs. Brown was a horse’s ass, but I kept it to myself.”
“How old were you?”
“Nine? Maybe ten. In truth, my being such a troublemaker was my grandmother’s fault. She and my grandfather were staunch abolitionists, and when I was a little girl, she would take me to rallies with her. When my father learned of it, he was furious and forbade it, so to get around him, she’d say she was taking me and my sister to the docks to pick up fabric shipments, or to the market. Because of her I heard speeches by Mrs. Frances Watkins Harper, Philadelphia’s Mr. William Still, and the great Mr. Douglass himself. My grandparents also hid runaways in the cellar until they could be passed on to Canada now and then.”
“So, you got your troublemaking ways honestly?”
“I suppose I did. When I crossed swords with Mrs. Brown, my grandmother would remind me that I didn’t have to grow up and be who my teacher or my father wanted me to be. I could be who Valinda wanted to be.”
“Sounds like a wise woman.”
“She is.”
She paused a moment and thought about how much she missed her grandmother Rose and made a pledge to write her in the next few days. “I wrote my parents about Cole and I breaking it off. They needed to know.”
“Maybe your father will surprise you and accept your decision to stay.”
She shook her head. “Only if someone has worked a spell and turned him into someone else, but we’ll see.”
Studying her face, Drake noted the sadness beneath the quip, and it made him want to fix this somehow. He didn’t like knowing she had things weighing on her that caused her worry. He brought the subject back to one she could embrace. “What other things would you like to do for your students?”
“When Cole and I were children, a teacher at his school had a glass box in his classroom called the Mysterious Objects and Other Curiosities Case.”
“And what was in it?”
“Seashells, rocks from faraway places, interesting, preserved things like lizards, insects, and birds’ eggs.”
“And you’d like to have one of these boxes.”
“Yes. Your brothers sail all over the world. If I ask nicely, do you think they might start bringing me back those kinds of objects?”
“That’s an interesting idea, cheri. I’m sure they’d be eager to help. In fact, Phillipe already has a collection of rocks from far-flung places. He’d probably lend you some.”
Her eagerness was plain. “That would be lovely. I’ll ask him.”
Drake decided he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life making her happy.
She said, “The children I’ll be teaching will be very much like me as a child, in that they’ve never ventured beyond a few miles of home. I’d never been outside of New York before traveling here.”
That surprised him. “Really?”
She nodded.
“Then traveling alone was very brave of you.”
“It was either be brave or stay at home and endure my father chiseling away at my dreams.” She went silent for a moment as if thinking that over. “You’ve probably seen the world, haven’t you?”
“A good portion of it, yes. The next time I go, would you like to join me?”
“Where to?”
“Cuba? Spain? Mama has relatives there. We could see the Moorish castles. Or go to France where the LeVeqs are from. Or visit Brazil where Little Reba’s people once lived. You pick a place and Rai’s ships will take us.”
“I’d like that.”
He would, too. Were she his, he’d lay the world at her feet. “What else would you like to do that you’ve never done?”
He watched her think for a moment then responded wistfully, “Stick my bare toes in the ocean. See mountains up close instead of from a tiny window on a train.”
Drake never knew listening to a woman’s dreams could open his heart this way. “Anything else?”
“When I was young my mother would let me take a blanket outside at night so I could lie in the grass and look up at the stars. But only for a short while, and only while my father was off doing whatever he did away from home with his friends. I’d lie there and look up, and wonder why the stars and moon were there, and what they meant.” She brought her eyes to him. “I’d like to do that but be able to lie there for as long as I want. You probably think that’s childish and foolish.”
“Never, cheri.” He pictured his land in his mind and searched for the perfect spot for her and her stargazing blanket.
“I want to thank you again for the train cars. I meant it when I said no one had ever given me a more precious gift.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I never knew a pirate could be so generous.”
“And I never knew a schoolteacher could be so tempting.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“I know. Pirates can be single-minded sometimes.” In truth though, he didn’t need her physically, at least not tonight. Their meal and conversation had helped drain some of his rage and anguish. She’d been the balm his spirit had been craving seeing that red sky.
They finished the meal and he asked, “Will you come sit in the gazebo with me?” He wasn’t ready to end their time together. “Being with you has helped make a terrible day bearable.”
She whispered, “Yes.”
So, they sat side by side, and as the moon rose they talked about everything and nothing: favorite books, the dates of their birthdays, the dog the LeVeq boys once had that kept eating Julianna’s shoes. They purposefully avoided talking about last night’s violence and the fire, and that pleased them both. Val was telling him the story of her sister’s first attempt at making an apple pie, and how Caro used salt instead of sugar to sweeten the apples, when snoring sounded. Looking over she found him asleep. After the night he’d had coupled with moving debris most of the day, she was surprised he’d stayed awake as long as he had. It took her giving him a few spirited shakes to wake him up.
“I’m sorry, cheri. Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
“It’s okay. Come on. Let’s go inside.”
He ran his hands down his face, got to his feet, and walked with her back to the house. Reba had left a few lamps lit before retiring to her suite off the kitchen, so they doused them and climbed the stairs by the moonlight streaming through the windows. At the top of the staircase, he looked down at her and said softly, “Thank you for the company. I needed it and . . . you.” In the silence he drew a slow finger down her cheek, then leaned down and kissed her gently for a long lingering moment. And what was intended to be a parting instead ignited the embers lingering from their last passionate encounter and the kiss deepened. Drake hadn’t intended for this to happen but something about her nearness, her scent, the heat of her satin-like lips and skin, rose inside, bringing with it an unrelenting desire to do more than let her go to her room. She was like a balm to the hate that destroyed his dreams, and the lure in her seemed to banish it. He healed himself on her lush mouth then bent low to brush his lips over the sweet curve of her jawline while his hand began to explore her small frame. He mapped her spine, lean torso, and skirt-shrouded hips. He dropped his head to treat himself to an already berried nipple through the thin fabric of her blouse, and her soft gasps hardened him further. Buttons were undone, her shift lowered, and his hot mouth claimed her. He licked and dallied, making her arch for more, and he obliged soundlessly. He worshipped a finger over the skin above her breasts, then fed wickedly on first one and then the other, while boldly moving her skirt up her legs, exposing the plain, knee-length drawers.
Val had lost all sense of time and place. Her entire being was focused on his pleasuring. When he whispe
red boldly, “Hold your skirt for me, cheri,” she grasped fabric rucked up around her hips, and wantonly widened her stance to allow him to sensually explore the warm damp vent hidden between her thighs through the slit in her drawers.
“So wet for me,” he growled softly. When his finger slid inside her flesh, she welcomed it with a growl of her own and her hips responded to the languid enticing rhythm that began. They rose, sought, and a featherlight croon slipped from between her lips. A second finger joined the first, increasing the heat, and she rode both scandalously. Her orgasm gathered and spread, tempting her to succumb, but that would end the brilliant pleasure he was gifting her with, and she was too greedy for that. He withdrew, circled dewed, masterful fingers over the stiffened pulsing bud that made her woman, before reintroducing with a sweet force that made her shatter and cry out soundlessly against his hard chest to keep from being heard. He eased her back to herself with soft kisses against her lips and gentle strokes between her now-boneless thighs. In the quiet that followed, she opened her eyes. Filled with all he felt for her and still resonating with what he’d made her feel, she leaned up and cupped his bearded jaw. “Thank you for the pleasure.”
He turned her hand and placed a kiss in the center of her palm. “Good night, cheri.”
“Good night, Drake. Sleep well.”
The following morning, Val’s mood was somber as she and Drake stood with Cole and Lenny at the bustling New Orleans train station. Their leaving felt like a chapter closing on her life. Although this next chapter brimmed with unlimited possibilities, she was going to miss Cole, very much.
“I’m only a train ride away,” he reminded her. “Conductor said barring any issues, we should be there in a month or so.”
She hugged him tightly. “Godspeed.”
She repeated the hug with Lenny.
When she stepped back, Cole told her, “Try and stay out of trouble.”
She smiled through her unshed tears. “I’ll do my best.”
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