by Londyn Skye
When James regained his strength, he raised up and smiled down at his wife. “Happy anniversary,” he said, caressing her cheek.
“Happy anniversary to you too,” Lily replied, her smile illuminating as well.
James kissed her forehead and then abruptly rolled off her.
“Hey, where you goin’ so soon?” Lily asked playfully.
James reached underneath the bed. “To get this,” he replied, pulling out a gift-wrapped box that he had hidden there.
Lily’s eyes widened with excitement when he handed it to her. “Someone’s been keepin’ secrets,” she smiled.
“Hopefully, one you won’t punish me for.”
“Oh, this most certainly warrants a punishment … but one you’ll thoroughly enjoy,” she sensually teased.
Her words elicited a low growl from James, making him want to toss the gift aside and receive his erotic punishment instead. “I’ll be eagerly awaitin’ that damn punishment,” he said, blowing out a breath to release the sudden heat in his body.
Lily seductively smiled at his response. “Well, before then, I’d like to see what this little treasure is,” she said, tearing off the wrapper and tossing it aside. The name Piers LeRoux artfully embossed on the decorative wooden box beneath the wrapping paper quickly hinted to what lie inside. She took the lid off, but very quickly found it difficult to make out the painstaking details of Piers’s beautiful artwork with a mist of tears suddenly blurring her vision.
“You like it?” James whispered.
“I love it,” Lily whispered back, wiping away a tear before it landed on the revised version of her and James dancing together in the Manhattan art gallery ballroom. Piers had duplicated the original charcoal sketch as a full color, eleven by fourteen, oil painting and placed it inside of a decorative frame. “I’ve always felt as though this moment beautifully captures how much we mean to each otha’.”
“That’s precisely what I was thinkin’ when I asked Piers to do this. I wanted him to capture in vivid colors a moment in my life when I was thinkin’ about how much I love you.”
“Our minds were certainly in sync,” Lily tearfully replied, feeling a rush of warmth flow through her body. James’s words had instantly infused far more sentimental value into the portrait that she could not stop gazing at.
“And I certainly rememba’ feelin’ your love while I’s holdin’ you that night,” James commented as he gazed at the portrait along with her. “In fact, I so clearly rememba’ every thought goin’ through my head in that moment,” he said, as the glorious memories flooded his mind. “Includin’ how badly I wanted to marry you. And now…”
“It’s our beautiful reality,” Lily finished with a smile.
James nodded. “And I don’t think I can eva’ adequately express how truly grateful I am for that fact.” He took hold of Lily’s ring bearing hand and gently kissed it. “It’s been an honor to have you as my wife for these last three years.”
His sincere words finally made Lily pull her eyes away from the beautiful portrait and turn toward the incredible man pictured in it. She gently placed her ring bearing hand on his face and tenderly caressed his lips with hers. “Thank you for this gift. I’ll cherish it,” she whispered. “Just as much as I cherish havin’ you as my husband.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Lily,” he replied, his body equally igniting with warmth after absorbing her words and her passionate kiss.
Lily smiled at the portrait again. “We have to find the perfect place to hang this lata’,” she said, carefully laying it back in the case and placing it on the nightstand. She then turned around and curled up in James’s arms. “Three years,” she said, kissing his chest. “I can’t believe it’s been that long since our little midnight weddin’ unda’ the stars. Time flies, as they say.”
“Sure does,” James replied as he gathered his arms around Lily. “Won’t be long before we’ve collected seventy more years’ worth of unforgettable memories and priceless treasures that’ll make every anniversary deservin’ of a grand celebration.”
“You gonna start off every grand anniversary celebration spoilin’ me with slow love makin’ like you did today?” Lily asked, nibbling at James’s ear.
“You betta’ damn believe it,” James growled.
“Even when you’re ninety?” Lily joked.
“I don’t give a damn if I have two bad knees and a bad back, I’ll find a way to please my queen!”
“Is that a promise?” Lily laughed.
“Ironclad!”
“Okay, I’m gonna hold you to that. Don’t wanna hear no excuses eitha’!”
“Excuses?! I’ll be too outta’ breath from chasin’ you down with my walkin’ cane for that!”
Lily burst out laughing again.
“Once I catch ya’, I’ll probably fracture both ‘a my hips tryna satisfy you,” James replied, biting her neck.
“Well, ya’ just might fracture more than that, ’cause I’ma need some ‘a your lovin’ more than just once ya’ know?” she said through her laughter.
“Really now?”
“Mm-hmm,” Lily replied, a hint of lust quickly returning to her tone. “Just like I need you again now,” she confessed, suckling gently on his neck.
James lowered his eyes and let out another low growl as his erection hardened against her thigh again. Lily smiled, still enjoying the effect that she had over her man after three magnificent years. She let James have his way earlier that night. But now, she straddled him, eager to dominate him once again. James glided his hands down the sides of Lily’s illustrious frame and smiled up at her as he happily let her take hold of the erotic reins and ride him in whatever way she so desired this time.
Hours after Lily exhausted James a second time, he woke up when he heard the familiar sound of youthful giggling and little feet scampering on the other side of the bedroom door. The familiar noise happened every morning like clockwork. The sound roused Lily from her sleep as well. Still wrapped in James’s arms, she turned toward him and smiled at the way his face always lit up over what had become a morning ritual.
“You betta’ move fast,” Lily said, her voice groggy. “You know she always outruns ya’.”
“Not this mornin’, she won’t,” James bragged.
“Mm-hmm, you say that every mornin’,” she playfully teased.
James kissed Lily on the cheek, scurried out of bed, and threw on some clothes. Lily laid on her side, smiling and shaking her head, knowing he did not stand a chance of conquering his morning mission.
“Hey you, come here!” James said as he flung open the bedroom door. He dashed into the hallway and the morning chase officially commenced.
With her smile still in place, Lily got out of bed, put on her clothes, and went to watch her husband fail like he did every morning. She indeed stepped out of the bedroom to find James in pursuit of their three-year-old. As usual, the toddler had an ample lead on her father, all the while giggling at the playful chase she had initiated. The youngster made her way out the front door and toddled down the porch steps with James still trailing her. Lily stepped out on the porch and leaned on the railing, smiling as she continued to watch. Their swift little daughter still had a commanding lead on her father as she made her way toward a massive treehouse. James finally closed in on her, eager to scoop his daughter up and give her a kiss. When he was just inches away from touching her, though, he suddenly could no longer move … just like every morning. Standing there as stiff as a statue, James could do nothing but watch the back of his daughter as she ran further and further away.
No different than every day preceding this one, James instantly panicked. “ROSE!” he cried out. But, like always, little Rose never bothered to turn around. At shrill levels, James repeatedly screamed her name, but she never even reacted to the sound. Despite all his efforts, he remained frozen and little Rose continued to run away from her father’s loving arms.
Still unable to move his feet, James looked over his
shoulder toward the porch to find that Lily was gone too … just like always. He suddenly shouted Lily’s name. His voice was once again at shrill levels as he sat up in his cot, sweating and breathing hard after being torn from his sleep by the frustrating dream. His head darted quickly from left to right as he tried to decipher reality from the lifelike visions he saw in his head as he slept. Once the sleepy fog cleared, he realized it was yet another one of his recurring dreams, one that always brought him temporary joy, yet simultaneously tortured him.
Thoroughly aggravated, James exhaled sharply and buried his face in his hands. He wondered why nightmares were the way his mind seemed to enjoy punishing him. His current recurring dreams had now replaced the nightmares that he had dealt with as a teenager after being dragged to his father’s torture camp. Now, on a regular basis, he was jarred awake by sweet dreams of Lily that always ended bizarrely as he chased Rose toward the treehouse he had envisioned building her. Over the three years since Rose’s death, James’s dreams had evolved. Rose had even grown in size, no different than she would have in real life. In every dream, though, two facts remained the same: Lily disappearing and Rose eluding his grasp. He had never even gotten so much as a peek at her little face. Those facts always tore James from his sleep while screaming at shrill levels.
Despite how loud James’s shrieking was on this morning, the unkempt man lying in the cot next to him barely roused from his sleep. He, and all the other filthy men lying nearby, had long since gotten used to James hollering the names of flowers in the middle of the night. Their ears had no choice but to adapt to his deafening shrills; they were all stuck there with him indefinitely. Some of them would even die there. After so many months trapped together, those unkempt men were now aware of the significance of the names James yelled, as well as the tragedies in his life that had led him to be stuck where they all were now. Every man there even knew to steer clear of James altogether in two days: the anniversary of Rose’s death. On that night, they were used to seeing him pacing, fighting all urges to fall asleep so as not to take the chance of being tortured by his nightmares. The impact of not being able to hug Rose or to even see the color of her eyes in his dreams seemed a million times worse on the anniversary of such a heart-shattering day. Sleep was, therefore, not an option on any April seventeenth. For those entire twenty-four hours, the men lying nearby knew that James Adams would be mourning the loss of his daughter all over again.
And today, on this fifteenth of April 1863, the men surrounding James understood why his sorrows were nearly as heavy as they would be in two days. James’s misery was already evident by the way he sat on the edge of his cot, in a place he may very well die. He had his face buried in his hands, fighting back tears as he tried to deal with the fact that the only people present during his wedding anniversary were a bunch of filthy men. On such a special day, he ached over the fact that the only way to give his wife a sentimental gift was in his dreams. There was no other way to hold her, kiss her, make love to her, or tell her how much he loved her. Because, just like little Rose, James had lost Lily three excruciatingly painful years ago too.
Chapter One
Wednesday, April 18, 1860
Early A.M. hours after escaping with Lily
from Adams Plantation
“Wake up!” Jesse snarled, smacking James hard in the face.
An unconscious James was tied to the base of a tree with a gag in his mouth and a tourniquet around his wounded right leg. Duke had left him that way while he rode back to the Ghost Rider rally point looking for Jesse. After searching for hours, Duke had finally rallied several of his Ghost Rider brethren, including Jesse, J.R., and Jacob. He then proudly led them to the temporary prison of his ailing victim, one that Jesse continued to inflict more pain on.
“Get up goddamn it!” Jesse yelled, smacking James again. Jesse showed no concern whatsoever over the sight of his son’s limp, bruised body. Instead, he dumped a canteen of water on his head and continually nudged him with his heavy boot trying to rouse him. James groaned and his head fell from one side to the other. “I said, wake up damn it!” Jesse suddenly kicked him hard in frustration.
The blow finally jarred James from his pistol whip-induced slumber. He was immediately hit with the severe pain of a migraine and intense throbbing in his right thigh. Being pounded repeatedly in the head with Duke’s revolver hours earlier had left him black and blue and severely concussed. James was fortunate that Duke’s bullet only grazed his thigh bone on its way in and missed a major artery on the way out. Despite it, the excruciating pain and loss of blood had crippled him too much to stand or defend himself against his father.
Jesse turned his attention to Duke after seeing the shape that James was in. “Why the hell’d you shoot ‘em, ya’ hunchbacked sack ‘a shit?! I told ya’ to bring ‘em to me! I ain’t say shit about puttin’ a bullet in his ass!”
“He killed three of our brethren and he tried to shoot me! Y’ur lucky I didn’t blow that little pussy’s head off!”
“I don’t give a shit what he did!” Jesse grabbed Duke by the shirt collar with his unbroken hand. “I said to leave ‘em to me to handle! That was a fuckin’ orda’!”
“I ain’t takin’ no more goddamn orda’s from you!” Duke pulled out his revolver and aimed it at James. “Now, take y’ur fuckin’ hands off ’a me! I oughta get justice right now, since you ain’t gonna do shit but slap this little pussy on the wrist and kiss his pretty little cheek to make ‘em feel betta’ afta’wards!”
“You got two seconds to put that pistol down or you’ll be pickin’ y’ur rotten teeth up off the goddamn ground,” Jesse threatened. Duke actually found the courage to keep the pistol pointed at James, but not for long. True to his word, Jesse bashed him in the mouth with a lightning quick jab. He watched Duke crumple to the ground and then turned his attention back to James. “Where the hell is my property, boy?!” he yelled, snatching the gag out of James’s mouth.
Still slipping in and out of consciousness, his father’s words sounded distorted in James’s aching head. Even if he could make sense of what he was saying, he would not have had the strength to answer.
“Where the fuck is she?!” Jesse demanded to know, suddenly kicking James hard in the side again, fracturing his rib this time.
Every ounce of oxygen suddenly exited James’s body and the world temporarily went black again. He fought hard to inhale, gasping desperately for air. When he was finally able to fill his lungs, he managed the strength to slightly lift his head toward his father. “I … ain’t … tellin’ … you … shit,” he murmured, fighting for every breath in between his words.
Jesse kicked him hard in the gut again. As James desperately fought to fill his lungs, Jesse squatted down and grabbed his son by the hair, forcing his wobbly head to look toward him. As soon as James steadied his head, he spit a mouthful of blood into his father’s face.
“YOU NIGGA’ LOVIN’ SON OF A BITCH!” His blatant disrespect sent Jesse into an instantaneous rage. He pulled his pocketknife off his hip with lightning speed. Just as he flicked open the blade, a gunshot suddenly went off behind him, startling the whole group. Jesse quickly let go of James. His wobbly head fell back onto his chest, and he faded back into unconsciousness. Jesse turned around to find a sheriff, two deputies, and two civilians on their horses approaching in the distance.
All five men rode closer to the group with the angry eyes of Ghost Riders glaring at them the whole way.
“Y’all mind explainin’ to me what in tarnation’s goin’ on here?” the sheriff asked once he was close enough for everybody to hear him.
The entire Ghost Rider posse just stared at him in silence.
Now that he had a closer look, the sheriff realized he knew every face in the group … a group he did not like. He climbed down off his horse, pulled a rifle from a holster on his horse’s saddle, threw the barrel over his shoulder, and marched toward the group with a relaxed confidence in his strut. “Well, well, well, if it
ain’t Fayetteville’s most model citizen,” he said sarcastically, looking right at Jesse. The sheriff had once worked as a deputy in Fayetteville and was now a sheriff in a neighboring town.
All of the Ghost Riders recognized him too. “Sheriff Clemens,” Jesse greeted with a nod of his head.
Clemens turned his head and glared at Duke who had just gotten to his feet and was wiping the blood off his mouth. “Yet anotha’ one of Fayetteville’s upstandin’ citizens is here too, I see,” he said, still staring at Duke. Clemens then turned in a circle. “Well now, what the hell do I owe the honor of bein’ surrounded by all ‘a Fayetteville’s finest?” he joked.
Silence.
Clemens suddenly peered over Jesse’s shoulder. “Jesse, you wanna explain to me why y’ur son’s tied to a goddamn tree?” he asked, finally sounding serious.
Jesse turned and glanced briefly at James and then turned back to look at the sheriff without saying a word.
Clemens glared back at him with lowered eyes. Clemens never much cared for Jesse. When he was just a deputy in Fayetteville, he refused to believe that Elizabeth’s death was a tragic accident. All along, he was inwardly convinced that Jesse was responsible for taking his wife’s life. But with the coroner finding her injuries consistent with a horse trampling, he was unable to press charges against Jesse the way he had hoped. Despite being forced to close the investigation, it was a case that always haunted him. Clemens never forgot about how frightened young James was when he was questioned about the details leading up to his mother’s death. He could tell that Jesse had instilled that fear in James and had also force-fed him the well-rehearsed story that James kept regurgitating during the questioning. Clemens now hoped that this debacle in the woods would finally give him a way to put Jesse behind bars where he felt he belonged years ago.