by Gina Danna
Sally shook her head. It bothered Emma that the woman felt sympathy for the poor rich white girl who was in love with her sister’s husband. The thought twisted her stomach, and she put the biscuit down.
“Honey,” Sally said, caressing Emma’s cheek. “I’m sorry for ya’, but it’s time to be getting this place ready for the summer. You’ve a whole lotta folk dependin’ on ya’. And a daddy that’s besides himself worryin’ about ya’ too. Be thinkin’ about that.”
Emma gave her a small nod and a wan smile. Inhaling, she straightened her shoulders and stood tall.
“Emma?”
She turned at the deep male voice behind her and saw Billy standing there, holding the reins to Angel and his horse. He smiled, raising his hand with the leather straps, asking her to come for a ride.
With a smile, she gazed at him. He’d been coming every day, trying to coax her out, even if it was only to the porch to talk to her. In his hands usually was the newspaper, and they’d read it together. She appreciated that he was trying to get her to laugh again. But the hole in her heart was too big. She now felt nothing. A mere void was safer. She could live with that as long as the memories stayed away.
What could it hurt to ride Angel again? Maybe a change of scenery would help. Besides, she doubted Sally’d let her do anything more in the cook house.
But she wasn’t dressed for company. Her floured and greasy work dress and aprons made her look poor. Yes, but the poor had their mates. She blew a hair out of her face and resolved to join Billy.
“Billy, I’ll go with you but need time to dress appropriately.”
He gave her an exaggerated bow as she left to change. Halfway to her room, she glanced over her shoulder and found him smiling at her. He, too, hadn’t smiled much since Caroline had left. Why, Emma had no clue but figured it wasn’t her place to ask. They were friends, and that was all she needed now. She hoped.
#
Jack heard Caroline’s shrill tongue before he reached the door. Then came the crash of glass. He breathed deeply and had to stop himself from doing an about face to head back to command and request a change in assignment, closer to the enemy. His personal enemy was here in the form of his wife.
Wife.
It was time to atone for his misdeed, he solemnly thought. As he got to the door, it swung open.
“Sir,” the black servant greeted him. Jack smothered a chuckle at the man’s lined, tense face. “Glad to see you’re home.”
More noise came from the back of the house. The sound of a table falling.
Jack raised his eyebrows. He turned to his servant, “George?”
George gave a short shake to his head. “You didn’t send word you’d be bringing a wife home, sir.”
Jack actually laughed. He slapped George on the shoulder. “Didn’t mean to pick one up.” He shrugged.
George glared at him. The man had been Jack’s slave throughout his life. He’d left George and most of his belongings back in Louisiana, but his mother had sent George here with strict instructions to obey his master and report to her anything out of the ordinary. That last command got Jack’s attention. “George, we’ll just keep this piece of news to ourselves, you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
Jack walked back to the bedroom and found Caroline and Tilly unpacking.
“Finding everything you need?” he asked.
With her scowl turning into a smile, accompanied by softening eyes, Caroline cried “Jack! Oh Jack, I’m ever so glad you are here.” She looped her arm through his arm and stretched up to kiss his lips, but he turned his head, leaving her access only to his cheek.
“I need you to help me and Tilly unpack. That house slave of yours is worthless, I might add.”
“George is my servant and he’s fine. I just arrived, and I’m tired and hungry. We’ll discuss your things later.”
She frowned at him but didn’t hold it long. “All right. It’s been a long trip for both of us. So we’ll eat and get some sleep.”
He grimaced at her reference to sleeping. In the days it had taken him to get here, he couldn’t remember having bedded her that fateful night. Holding her when the gun barrel was shoved at him, yes, he remembered that. But nothing else.
She led him to the dining table which was set with a linen tablecloth, candles, china and dinner—steak, potatoes, bread, wine and cheese. A meal fit for a king. Tucking Caroline’s chair in under the table, he sat down himself and poured their wine.
Caroline smiled at him. The silence between them hung heavy. He hated being with her. He tried to recall why he used to think she was so pretty and dainty. Looking at her, he could see she still was. But it didn’t matter either way because she was his wife now.
She prattled on about her voyage, but he barely listened. He wanted to drink her away. When George came to remove the plates, Jack ordered a bath for Caroline.
“A bath?” she asked.
“I thought you might want one after your journey.”
She smiled. “Of course.”
“Good,” he stood, picking up the bottle and his glass. “I’ll be in shortly.” He strode to the front parlor and dropped into the stuffed wing-back chair near the window. Pouring more wine, he downed the glass in one swallow. Tomorrow, he was off to war. Off to Ohio or wherever McClellan was. He didn’t care, just as long as it was away from here. His eyes closed, and he felt himself drifting to sleep.
“Sir.”
A nudge at his shoulder awakened Jack to find George staring at him. Jack blinked heavily, feeling sluggish, lethargic.
“Massa,” the servant said again.
“What, George?” He tried sitting up straight and cursed. He had dropped the wine glass, and the floor reeked of alcohol.
“She’s been calling for you.”
“Who?” His brain was foggy. Thankfully, he had not slept deeply enough to dream. He was tired of bad dreams, especially about the woman he couldn’t have.
“Your wife, sir,” the elder black man answered.
Jack stood, pulling his waistcoat down. “Night, George.” And walked toward the bedroom.
Inside the door, he stopped. Caroline sat on their bed, a sheet pulled across her lap. She wore a sheer, voluminous gown, giving him a hint of her body beneath it. Her long blonde hair hung loosely around her shoulders. She looked edible. And she was his. He had to remember that.
She patted the space next to her.
With a frown, he unbuttoned his waistcoat. “Caroline, tell me the truth. Did we actually…” He needed to know.
She blushed. He wondered whether she could do that at will. No, of course not.
Grinning, she responded, “We were together and drink overtook us.”
He sat next to her and caressed her cheek with his hand. “Well, I still seemed the culprit in compromising you.” He touched her hair, which was soft and silky. “Perhaps, this time, we’ll get it right, huh?”
She smiled shyly.
He bent closer and kissed her. His tongue played at the corner of her mouth, trying to get her to part her lips. She did and his tongue plowed into her mouth, exploring, playing, tasting. It was nice. But not the same. Oh, his body responded as expected. He tightened, his scrotum contracted and his member hardened. He leaned her back on the mattress.
She responded to his kiss, playing with his tongue, tracing the inside of his mouth. When he caressed Caroline, he felt her body beneath the sheer fabric. He cupped her breast, and his thumb rubbed her nipple, making it harden. He sucked in his breath. His mouth left hers and traveled down her neck, his tongue leaving a wet path as he kissed where her neck and shoulder met.
“Caroline,” he whispered against her skin and was pleased when she shivered beneath him. His hand lowered to pull the gown up over her head and bare her body. Her nipples were tight coral nubs and he suckled them. She mewled with pleasure.
She yanked his shirt out of his trousers and lifted it. He released her and threw off his shirt. He unbuttoned his f
ly and the drawers beneath. Free of clothing, his shaft sprung forth. Caroline’s hand closed around it, stroking it. He groaned. For a virgin, she held him just right, exerting enough pressure to increase his desire.
He put his hand between her legs, running his fingers along the folds of her flesh. Her nether lips were swollen and wet. As he inserted one finger, it was doused in her juices, and he heard her groan. Another finger joined the first and pumped into her. She was wet and writhing under his hand. She was ready for him.
He rose above her, placing his manhood at her opening, but before he entered, he looked into her eyes. She was panting.
“It’ll hurt,” he warned her. “But only once, then I’ll make the pain go away.”
She nodded impatiently. He felt her opening wider for him. He slowly entered her, being careful. He’d taken only one virgin in his life, and it had been a disastrous affair. He remembered her screams and the painful entry because she hadn’t been ready—wasn’t allowed to be. But Caroline was ready and more than willing.
A small warning went off in his head, but he ignored it.
She grasped his hips. He entered further. She was velvet soft inside. Before he pushed again, her hands reached back to his buttocks and pulled him to her. His erection went in to the hilt. She moaned, arching her back as he thrust into her.
Another warning, a voice in the back of his head, but again, he refused to acknowledge it.
He moved rhythmically in and out of her slick canal. She moaned loudly, almost screaming. It drove him over the edge—the sounds she made, the way her hips rose to meet him, her hands grabbing onto his buttocks. Faster and faster he thrusted, deeper and deeper, her body accommodating every move. He lost control, and when he felt her tighten around his shaft, shattering beneath him, he spilled his seed against her womb and collapsed on top of her.
It took a moment before his mind began working again and his breathing slowed. Something seemed wrong. He pushed up from Caroline and found her smiling at him, looking thoroughly sated. Would a virgin feel that way?
Getting off her, he went to the washstand and threw the water from the basin onto his face. He didn’t like how he was feeling. His skin prickled. Looking into the mirror, he caught her staring at the sheets with a cup in her hand. A cup?
He spun around. “What are you doing?
She froze. He went back to the bed as she tried to place the cup on the nightstand. His arm shot out and he grabbed the cup.
“Jack,” she started. She sounded scared.
He glanced into the cup. Red liquid that looked thicker than wine. Jack dipped his finger into it. It was thicker than wine. When he withdrew his finger, he realized it was coated with blood.
“Caroline,” his voice hardened dangerously. “You were a virgin, weren’t you?”
“Darlin’, please,” she wheedled.
He threw the cup and it shattered on the floor.
“You were going to put that on the sheets to prove to me you were.” She flinched before his accusation, and his anger flared. “I thought I compromised you and did the honorable thing. But I’m not the guilty party, am I?”
“Jack, be reasonable.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Madame, I do believe I’m being very reasonable.” Christ, he had lost everything, and now she was no longer a virgin. He was overcome with heartache. Anger followed. Deep, penetrating, settling on him.
“You know, I may just divorce you.”
He saw her panic as she scrambled to sit up. “Jack.”
He laughed. “For the love of God, we may not even be married. Confederacy laws probably aren’t even recognized legally, not even for weddings.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”
Jack ran his fingers through his hair, his mind racing. He picked up his clothes, grabbed a pillow and blanket and headed to the door, where he stopped.
“I won’t divorce you, not now.” He didn’t wait for her response. Instead, he walked out the door to the couch.
Falling onto the cushions, he beat the pillow. “Dammit!”
Vaguely, he heard her sniffling, but it did not soften him. Tomorrow he’d leave to go fight. And he could hardly wait.
#
Virginia
Emma sat at the desk, staring blankly at the pages before her—the accounts for the estate. Her father had been acting strange lately. He had been avoiding her since Caroline’s departure. Perhaps he felt he had acted rashly because she knew he missed her sister. And he would be missing Charles soon enough.
She dropped the quill and sat back in the chair, resting her head against it. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Everyone was leaving her. Soon she’d be all alone. On this big estate, full of slaves. How would she control them? She didn’t know. Her father did, but unless he started to participate in life again, it’d be up to her.
“Knock, knock.”
She glanced up and smiled. Billy leaned in the doorway, dressed in his militia grays.
“Don’t you look dapper?” she commented.
He gave her a crooked grin. “I was wonderin’ if I could get you to go on a walk with me.”
Standing up, she walked around the desk. “Yes, I think that’d be marvelous.” Looping her arm in the crook of his, she followed him outside.
Billy had finally broken through her screaming fits, her rage and remorse. He comforted her without saying anything; he just hugged her and listened to her rants. It had been soothing at a time when she needed the support.
But this was the first time he had appeared in uniform. And she felt him tense under her hand.
“Billy, what’s the matter?” she asked as they rounded the side of the house and went toward one of the rose bushes the estate was named for.
“You know, the militia’s been trainin’.”
She laughed. “Yes.”
He cleared his throat. “There’s been a call to gather forces in Petersburg. They think there’s a fight coming.”
“But it shouldn’t be much,” she argued. “I’ve seen the reports in the newspapers. Both us and the Yankees sayin’ it’ll be over by Christmas.”
Billy stopped and turned to face her. “Hopefully.” His bare hand rubbed the inside of her arm languidly. It mesmerized her. “Emma, I’m leaving to go defend our right to live as we want, against any Yankee invaders.”
She nodded. She didn’t like the sound of this.
“And there was something I wanted to ask you.”
“Anything, Billy.”
He held her hand as his other hand went behind his back and he knelt. “Emma Silvers, I want to have a reason to look forward to coming home. I want to come home to you. So, I’m askin’ you—will you do me the favor of marrying me?”
Emma’s mouth dropped open. Marriage?
It is called the Army of the Potomac but it is only
McClellan’s bodyguard…If McClellan is not using the Army, I should like to borrow it for a while.
—Abraham Lincoln, 1862
Chapter Eleven
Rich Mountain, Virginia
July 11, 1861
Cannons and gunfire roared not far away while Jack sat on Goliath, waiting with Major General William S. Rosecrans and other officers as the ground before them erupted between the two opposing forces. Rosecrans sat atop his mount, aiming his looking glass toward the troops.
“Where the hell are my reinforcements?” Rosecrans snapped, closing the telescope.
No one uttered a word. Union troops had forced Confederates into battle in western Randolph County, Virginia at Rich Mountain. Jack knew if he could see through the sulfurous smoke, he’d find the enemy’s commander, Lieutenant Colonel John Pegram, standing with his officers, assessing the damage or victory, as determined by the men still alive on the field. But visibility was difficult at the moment.
The sound of a horse, ridden hard and fast, came barreling toward them, the horse skidding to a stop behind Jack’s group. Jack heard the creak of leather as the rider leap
t off the animal to get to Rosecrans.
“Sir,” the rider said, reaching the commander’s side. Rosecrans bent in his saddle, lowering his head to better see the man. He snatched the note offered and unfolded it. “Hell and damnation, I tell you!”
“What does the general say, sir?” Jack asked.
Rosecrans wadded the note. “That pompous Ohioan’s holding his troops in case the numbers against us increase. So he’ll have fresh troops while mine are slaughtered.” He spat. His bitterness sounded louder than the guns below.
Jack shifted in the saddle. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard of McClellan’s maneuverings. The man organized the Army in Ohio well, recruiting and training first the Ohio militia, then expanding into the armed forces of the West after he re-entered federal service. It had been quite a jump in rank for the West Point graduate when he made major general due to the influence of Treasury Secretary and former Ohio governor and senator, Salmon Chase. He outranked everyone except Lieutenant General Winfield Scott, head of the Army and an old veteran of the War of 1812. Perhaps it was too big a jump for the railroad president. One thing was for certain, Jack felt the same as many officers—the man’s ambition rankled all of them.
McClellan’s drive reminded him of his wife’s. Caroline’s machinations to make herself his wife were well done. Jack blotted out the obvious setup he’d allowed himself to get caught in. Caroline’s plan had worked, and he was stuck with her. After reciting their vows and consummating their marriage, and after his anger about being betrayed had subsided, he packed his bags and left for the Army again. The long trip west gave him time to see clearly how she’d coerced him into marriage. A marriage made in hell.
A cannon exploded near Rosecrans’ entourage, momentarily dispelling Jack’s self-loathing and forcing him to focus on the battlefield. As the smoke cleared, he heard his commander and several others scream “Huzzah!” as Pegram’s forces retreated.
Jack wished he could get Caroline to retreat as well.
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