Authentic Storm: An American Civil War Novel (Hearts Touched By Fire Book 5)

by Gina Danna

  “How did your shopping go today?” He gave her a wink over the glass of wine.

  “I did very good. Amazing how a little bit of confidence plus the money to spend can change people’s minds.” She spent the early afternoon shopping for a few items. It amazed her he remembered she’d talked about this yesterday. Their discussion on legal items of note had been rather dull, so she figured when he asked her what she’d planned to do for today, it had been for taking her to dinner, nothing more. Most men, she had heard, hardly gave a whim to women’s leisure choices, unless it involved them and her shopping hadn’t.

  “See? I told you that you could get what you want.”

  “On everything?” She couldn’t help but ask. A voice in the back of her head whispered even if I want you?

  “Unfortunately, probably not.” He sighed. “Though I see you could gain great confidence and leadership if directed correctly.”

  “As in how?”

  He spooned a scoop of the berries and cream. “You could help the Anti-Slavery people. That would be worthy cause.”

  The hair on her neck bristled. “I’m hardly counted by those people. They talk of atrocities.”

  “Well, I’d bet you saw some while growing up.”

  She frowned. “Just because I’m from the South and grew up on a plantation with slaves doesn’t mean I saw anything along the lines they speak of. No mutilations, no brandings, no isolation boxes, nothing. Just positions and chores.”

  There was a wrinkle across his forehead, as if that didn’t sit right with him. She tossed that idea aside. Well, she was there. Her family, though white and a bit broken, were not abusers! Determined to correct his assumption, she looked back at him and found he gave her a half-grin with his glass of wine raised.

  “To the Fontaines!”

  Unsure of his meaning, she decided to just raise her stemware to meet his and as they clanged, she saw mischief in his eyes. Downing her sip, she asked, “Whatever is going on in that mischievous mind of yours?”

  “Dance with me.”

  “Dance? There’s no one dancing,” she glanced around and then frowned. “There’s no one here.” She turned back to him right as he stood, offering for her hand. “What did you do?”

  At that moment, as if on cue, a handful of men carrying string instruments walked in and set up on the side. She took his hand slowly, wondering what was happening.

  “They needed a place to practice,” he told her with a shrug. “The owner here took pity, considering, and let them in here.”

  “So they practice in dress clothes,” she noted as he spun her in front of him.

  “Yes, it is truly odd, I have to agree.”

  Taking his hand as they stood in position to dance, she gave him a sharp eye. His attempt to look innocent made her laugh. “You planned this.”

  “Perhaps.” The strings started and he stepped to the right. “I wanted to dance. And I was sure you would, too.”

  The music was lovely and she fully let herself go, following his lead, which was so easy. They danced the jig, and galloped for the trot and finally settled into a waltz. She had to admit, dancing with him was so easy and enjoyable, she let herself relax, realizing this was the first time since moving north that she had.

  “You appear to like this,” he whispered.

  “You, sir, are quite correct,” she replied. “Thank you.”

  He gazed into her eyes. He was a full head taller than her and, in his arms, she felt safe, an emotion she never truly felt. His blue eyes were dark, almost navy in color, and so intense. It was like a flame, one that spread through to her and her soul drank it in.

  In the now candlelit room, with the music floating, the scent of lilies in the air, all seemed perfect. His steps slowed and he pulled her closer. Jaquita’s mouth turned dry and she licked her lips right as her stomach flipped.

  He pulled his hand away from her lower back when they came to a stop. He tipped her chin up as he lowered his head and took her lips in a kiss. It was a light touch, almost like feathers across her yet she could taste the bourbon on his lips mixed with the cream from her strawberry. It was an alluring taste and she wanted more. She rose on her toes, trying to reach his height as he slowly pulled back. Separated by mere inches, he gazed at her with his dark eyes and a lazy grin.

  Irritated and hungry for more, she again stood and reached up to join him again in a kiss. This time, he didn’t pull back but met her half way. His mouth covered hers and he tried with his tongue to gain entrance inside, his masculine body becoming harder as he strained to kiss her deeply.

  Inside her head, a distance voice yelled for her to stop, that he was white and no good would ever come from this! Wasn’t her life ample proof mixing didn’t work? But she silenced that voice as her lips parted.

  With a growl, he devoured her, pulling her tighter into his embrace. As their tongues danced, she knew deep down inside everything had changed.

  Next Day

  * * *

  Thomas sat, listening to his friend Frederick Wilson continue his oratory about the future. His musings intrigued Thomas, so it took him a few minutes to realize what he was saying.

  “So you’ve been touting my worthiness to become a senator? I thought this was about you running.”

  Frederick rolled back on his heels and laughed loudly. “Me? Hardly. Merchants and scribes do not do well in politics. However, attorneys do very well.”

  Thomas stood and began to pace. “I have made comments about running, though for this election, it may be too soon to throw my hat into the ring.”

  “Good grief, it ain’t! Look, that scalawag McDougal just came from Ireland, barely here long enough to be understandable, let alone able to vote! And, you know as well as I do that the Irish want the darkies gone, lock, stock and barrel, back to Africa! Anything but up here, claiming they’ll be out of work for the freedmen who’d take scratchings to live, not that those papists aren’t at that level anyway.”

  He did have a point. In this district, the only man he’d oppose was an Irishman, James McDougal, though he’d been here in the states for years and an American citizen roughly a decade ago. But Frederick was right. The Irish didn’t want the possibility of more freedmen up in New York for fear they would be hired over the Irish. Rumors flew that the Irish were nothing more than papists and drunks and with a few who fit the bill for the latter, it was becoming harder and harder for them to find shelter and work. A job a senator could help with, along with freeing the slaves.

  “So, tell me then, how am I faring?”

  Frederick grinned. “Pretty good, I think. Your status of helping all is duly noted, your participation in the Anti-Slavery Society is popular and your engagement to Miss Lancaster is the frosting on your celebratory cake!”

  He stared out the window of his office, looking down at the markets below. Allison. His father still pushed the union. He did give it some thought, except Jaquita always interrupted those ideas. Last night flooded him mind. She was beautiful, the dusky hue of her skin made her like a goddess in his eyes. She danced so gracefully he became more enthralled with her. And that kiss…

  “So I figure you’re a shoo-in for the seat!”

  Thomas turned his attention back to now with a frown as he slunk back into his desk chair.

  “You will run, right? I’m not out there, just wasting mine and my team’s voices for a ghost?”

  The group of ten lads, really young gentlemen that Frederick had rounded up, had also begun to spread his name and worth. He drummed his fingertips across his desktop.

  “All right, all right. You won. I will put myself on the ballot.”

  “Huzzah!”

  He prayed that was the right choice.

  Chapter 10

  “If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of freemen, we must live through all time, or die by suicide.”

  —Abraham Lincoln, 1838

  Another day of shopping, but with his
money this time. It made Jaquita giggled. As the carriage rambled down the street, more bumpy than smooth, she did her best to hide her laughter and averted her gaze away from her companion. Unfortunately, that made it even worse, because she knew he was watching her.

  “What is so funny?” Thomas finally asked.

  “You. Us. Everything.” She couldn’t stop the laugh, even when not looking at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him fight not to grin.

  “I think we are quite lovely.”

  “Lovely? Do men think that way?” An intriguing thought, she tilted her head.

  “We think in all sorts of ways.”

  His words rolled out in a deep, dark tone that made her blood race. The memory of that kiss made her mouth water. Before she had time to think right, the words rolled out of her mouth, “You will stay for dinner?”

  He gave her a mischievous half-grin. The air between them thickened because she couldn’t move, nor take her gaze off him. She bit her bottom lip after what seemed like eternity, waiting, hoping when he finally answered, “I’d love to.”

  A breeze washed over her, one filled with relief and excitement and she grinned. “Excellent.”

  At the house, the driver opened the door and Thomas left first then spun to lift her out of the conveyance. His hands rested on her waist to guide her to the ground but the fire they left at the top of her hips nearly undid her. She muttered a thank you and quickly strode toward the front door, telling Clarence that Mr. McHenry was joining her for dinner. With those orders given, she left him with her cloak and bonnet and led Thomas back to the library.

  He walked into the room behind her but left the door open, for which she was thankful. Her heart was thudding wildly and the fact that she’d just issued orders like she was the grand mistress of the house scared and elated her all at once. Or was her forwardness due to him?

  “So do you have many guests?” he causally asked as he walked to the sideboard. Picking up the wine bottle, he tilted his head in questioning form.

  “Yes, that would be lovely.” Wine might slow her heart down, she hoped, but then it hit her how it sounded like she answered the first part. “And no, I don’t have guests to speak of.”

  He handed her a glass of the red wine. “I didn’t think so. You rattled off those commands like you are a practicing court lawyer or a politician.”

  “Oh, my, no! I apologize for being so rude!” Her cheeks heated instantly from embarrassment.

  He gestured for them to sit as she collected her thoughts—and her wits—and took a seat on the settee. He took the side chair. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “You are not rude, my dear. Perhaps a bit uncomfortable at the moment, but we will muddle through that and you will relax.” He raised his wineglass. “To a beautiful hostess, who will honor all of us in New York.”

  Again, her cheeks burned. “Truly, a nice gesture—”

  “For toasts, you simply raise your glass and then take a sip.” He looked on the verge of laughing.

  She closed her mouth and snorted. Blinking, she refocused on him, raised her glass in return to his and then sipped as he did. “Thank you.”

  As they put their glasses down, she noticed he sat at ease, even his face was light except for his eyes. They gave her an intent stare. What was going on in his mind?

  “Did you enjoy our day?”

  That wasn’t what she was expecting from those stern eyes and the reflection they gave, but the man did sound curious.

  “I did. Immensely. Thank you for that as well.”

  “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any other issues from the shop clerks.” His half-smile returned as he looked away for a moment. “They gave me a time, as it were.”

  “I wasn’t aware you had taken a turn to run for office.”

  He shrugged. “It seemed logical. Better to take the fight to Congress.”

  Jaquita frowned. “What fight?”

  “For emancipation, of course.” He took another drink of the wine.

  “Oh.” She wasn’t sure what to say. How did one congratulation or wish one well for a job she didn’t understand? It sounded unpleasant, or that was how she saw politicians, thanks to her father’s views.

  “Don’t you want your people free?”

  “My people? You mean, the slaves? Of course.” She squirmed a bit.

  “Then you’ll surely join the Anti-Slavery group. We could surely use your support.”

  She gulped.

  Clarence left the coat and wraps to another servant so he could head back to the kitchens, his mind filling with disturbing thoughts. With every step, the elder butler became more and more troubled by what he’d witnessed. But they could be too late.

  His mind still clouded with troubling thoughts, he turned the corner in the back hallway and walked straight into Aunt Lila’s kitchen. “Aunt Lila, we have a situation on our hands!”

  The cook looked up from the table she stood at, cutting bread. The waft of dinner wrapped around the room and made his mouth water with hunger but it was dinner that drove him here. She gave him a questioning glance before returning her attention to the cutting board.

  “Why? What has happened now?”

  “We have guests for dinner.”

  Aunt Lila chuckled. “And that is a problem?”

  “You’ll find it so when I tell you who.” He paused and grew irritated when she rolled her eyes and returned to her food preparation. “It’s that lawyer.”

  “Clarence, please. There are more lawyers than necessary in this town. Who?”

  “That white boy. Mr. McHenry.” He huffed loudly, a little miffed she didn’t even trifle at the announcement.

  “I see,” she answered, finishing putting the bread on a tray with the whipped butter. “Nothing wrong with that. He’s been helping Miss Jaquita settle in here.”

  “Oh, he’s helping her settle in just fine,” Clarence smirked. “I saw their eyes and how her cheeks be all red. Ain’t right to let her be alone with him.”

  Aunt Lila collected her vegetables from the pot, the steam raising off them, making her face glisten. “Did Mika set another set place at the table?”

  “Of course, he did! That ain’t the problem.”

  She sighed. “Clarence, let it be. I’m sure she was just being polite. He took her to the stores today, making sure they treated her right. He’s taking on taming New York for her, so—”

  “He’s doin’ more than that!” the butler blustered. “You know he runnin’ for office.”

  “So I hear.”

  “Well, he trying to get influence, toting a freewoman around, as if he cares about freeing us Blacks.”

  Aunt Lila snorted. “He does. He’s part of the Albany’s and New York City’s Anti-Slavery Societies. I heard from Mrs. Wainwright, he offers his counsel at a reduced rate.”

  “And what is he offering our Jaquita?”

  Aunt Lila stopped. Clarence was elderly and set in his ways, that everyone knows their place and should stay there. But rarely did she ever see him this upset.

  “Clarence,” she started, her voice low and sympathetic. “Miss Jaquita has had a rough time—”

  “Ha!” Clarence snorted, his face still contorted in muddled anger. “Rough, but with money. So hard!”

  “Yes, money she could not get to, and Mr. McHenry has been nothing but courteous and respectful in getting her access to it.” She rubbed her hands against her apron as she pulled herself upright. “He is also supposed to get her to join the Society and perhaps, be a contributor and maybe speak.”

  “Contributor of what? That money is her pappy’s. And speaker for what? Living on a big ole Southern plantation? ‘Cause you know, no one has ever whipped that girl, nor caused her harm. You’ve seen how they’ve treated her. Like kin!”

  “Yes, well, they have treated her well, for a mulatto child. Mr. Fontaine has a liking for her, that’s for sure, enough to send her here and on her own and it’s that wealth they’re h
oping she’ll share.”

  “Just don’t like this.”

  Aunt Lila patted his arm. “It will be all right. ‘Sides, I hear Mr. McHenry about to get engaged himself. Then he won’t be courtin’ Miss Jaquita like you think.”

  Jaquita laughed. “You can’t be serious! He wanted you to what?”

  Thomas chuckled. “Well, as long as Jonathan was alive and being raised to follow my father, what was I, the second son, to do?”

  “Head west? To where?” She frowned. “Chicago?”

  “Nah, that’s not ‘west’. Guessing the likes of Kansas.”

  Jaquita bit her tongue, realizing she had no idea really where Kansas was. Geography wasn’t something the tutors taught the Fontaine children, meaning she didn’t pick it up from them or trying to listen to the classes from afar. But she recalled a globe in the library that she’d go inspect later.

  “So what happened?”

  Thomas took a drink of his wine and gave her one of is half-smiles, the type she suddenly found very attractive. “Well, Jonathan couldn’t pass the class in law. My way of thinking is my brother didn’t want all the tedium a law office can bring but, the lure of the west, it grabbed his attention. All newspapers wrote tales of open land and little law, so he sprang for it.” He dabbled his lips with the napkin. “Took the maid with him too. An Irish lass named Kate.”

  Jaquita couldn’t help but laugh.

  “So my father was less than pleased. Formally disowned him, treated him as if dead, and took me under his wing to train to follow him.”

  “Is that what you wanted? To follow him as a lawyer?”

  Thomas shrugged. “I’d been helping Jonathan with his studies, so I basically had the training. Took me nothing to get through the classes and here I am.”

  “Hmmmmm,” she hummed, taking a bite of her cake. It melted in her mouth, just like her insides inflamed in his presence. The room was way too hot.

  “I wanted to ask you a question.”

  She looked up, barely able to swallow the second bite she had inhaled as a way to divert her attention off him.