by Gina Danna
He watched, dreading the accusation in her eyes. “No, Emma…”
“You and this war, this awful war, killed my father!”
He shook his head. “Emma, he wasn’t right for a long time. You told me he had been hurt, an injury to his head. Between that and losing his home and most of his family, plus all the traveling and hardship, I reckon it was too much for him. His heart just gave out.”
Her eyes widened, making her look like a trapped animal. Afraid she’d hurt herself, or more likely run from him, he cupped the back of her head, a stupid attempt to keep her from fleeing. “He was right about some things I suppose. I am a traitor. A deserter. And I have killed. Spying–there was that is too.” He looked deep into her brown eyes, hoping. “But the truth is this. I’ve come back for you. Emma. For you.”
She began to shake her head. “No, no…” She broke away from him and stepped back, almost stumbled. Gathering her skirts, she yelled “no” again and ran to the house.
He stood, watching her, and glanced back at Nathan. The child sat on the blanket, no longer interested in the adults but playing with a set of wooden blocks.
As Jack swallowed, trying to gather his thoughts, he looked back at Emma. She was still going toward the house when she suddenly stopped. He watched in horror as she clutched her middle. Fear seized him and he ran to her as she fell to the ground.
“Emma!” He scooped her up in his arms.
Barrett, the house slave, opened the door for them and quickly moved aside as Jack walked past him and up the stairway.
“Tilly!” He yelled. For the love of God, he had no idea where Emma’s room was.
The slave peeked out a door halfway down the hall. He moved quickly, following her into the bedroom. He set Emma down and Tilly reached under her skirts to undo her crinoline, letting it fall to the floor. Jack lifted Emma again to gently lower her to the bed. Her breathing was shallow, her face still pale.
“Get a doctor,” he ordered Tilly. “And get Nathan.” He started unbuttoning her bodice. Swiftly, he unsnapped the busk of her corset. “Come on, Emma, breathe. Breathe!”
Free of the corset’s restraints, she inhaled deeply. Color washed back into her cheeks and he sighed. He reached into her glorious sable hair, freeing the strands of their pins. Slowly she opened her eyes.
“Sweetheart, how are you feeling?” He feared he’d almost lost her. Maybe he had.
She swallowed. “Jack, I don’t understand. They told me you were dead!”
“Easy, darling. I was only wounded. I’m fine.”
“But, but, they insisted,” she panted, disbelief and anger fighting within her. “The General claimed he witnessed you die. I was so upset over daddy, I should’ve checked myself—”
“Shush,” he soothed. “It’s okay. I’m here and very much alive. Tilly’s getting the doctor. Rest.” With his fingers threaded through her hair, he bent closer, his lips meeting hers. She didn’t protest. He ran his tongue across the seam of her lips, tasting lemonade and tears. She opened her mouth and he invaded it, tasting, stroking her tongue, inhaling her breath. She returned his fervor, tentatively at first, then with more passion.
He broke free, nibbling down her jaw, her neck, to her chest. She tasted like manna to a starving man. “Jack,” she sighed.
The sound of his name on her lips ignited his passion further. His hand went to her corseted breast. She felt fuller, firmer than before or was it his faulty memory? She gasped loudly.
“Jack, please,” she pleaded.
“Brother, what the hell are you doing to my fiancé?” A drawling male voice threatened.
Jack released her, slowly pulling away to stand. Her deep brown eyes shone with desire, but he had to face another challenge. His brother and their past.
It might be harder to win her than by just admitting you love her. She can be quite stubborn. If you’re willing to fight for her, make her yours truly…Charles’ words came back to him.
#
Francois stood there, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, hair askew, jaw set and his blue eyes glittering. He looked devastatingly handsome. Emma’s breath caught in her throat. But perhaps Emma was attracted to him more because he was so accepting of her and her unborn child, Jack’s child.
Jack’s caress of her overly sensitive nub had sent tingles throughout her body, unfurling desire. It was a sensation that Francois’ kisses had never caused. Of course, he’d never ventured beyond her mouth or neck because she refused his desire to do so. She knew all too well that only Jack could ease her longing. Even though she believed he was dead, the idea of any other man being intimate with her chilled her to the bone.
Staring at Jack, Emma saw he had changed during their time apart. He was lean and muscular, like a mountain lion. She’d felt his chest and arms hard against her as he carried her inside. His face was more angular, his skin bronze from the strong spring sun. His dark brown hair was windblown, as though he had forgotten his hat in his haste to get to her. At least, that was what she hoped, what she wished and prayed for.
But she was to marry Francois and should have stopped Jack from kissing her although she couldn’t. She craved him, missed him. Loved him. Her heart skipped. Oh God, no. Not that. He’d left her before. To admit she loved him would make her even more vulnerable were he to do it again. Like everyone else had. Her mother, her sister, Billy and her father. Oh please, dear Lord.
Jack planted himself between her and Francois.
“Brother.” His voice sounded cool.
Francois smirked. “Jacques; so ghosts do exist, non?”
“In more ways than one.” Jack forced a smile. “Where is our father?”
“Away,” Francois replied.
“Gentlemen,” Emma said, trying to straighten her bodice and sit up. She motioned to Tilly to help her.
“Did he frighten you, m’aime?”
Jack growled.
“I’m fine Fran, please,” she begged. “Jack what happened?”
“They missed, so to speak. Your brother helped me escape,” he told her without looking away from Francois. “I had to find you.”
“Well, we see that you have. Now, if you want to stay for the wedding—” Francois began boldly.
“Jack, you don’t understand.”
“You’d forget me that fast?” He turned to her. “And what of my son?”
At that, Emma moved, perhaps too quickly. The room spun. Tilly grabbed her elbow. Emma inhaled deeply before saying, “I hadn’t forgotten—”
“Darlin’, don’t. Let me handle this.” Francois stepped closer.
“You?” Jack spat. “You’ll stay out of this!”
“I think not,” Francois growled.
“Gentlemen!” Emma’s patience was wearing thin, and she was concerned that they’d kill each other if she didn’t stop them.
Behind Francois, a young slave boy appeared. “Dr. Spalding said he cain’t be here til later.”
Emma swallowed. “Tommy, that’s fine. I’m okay.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Tommy, come here lad.” The slave padded slowly to the white man he didn’t recognize. When Jack tipped his head up, the boy’s eyes were wide with fright.
“So you continued, I see,” Jack uttered disgusted. “Kinda easy, isn’t it?”
“You know better, Jacques.” Francois’ voice held menace and his hands fisted at his sides. “At least I haven’t killed any of them.”
“You bastard!”
Emma was confused. “What are you two arguing about? You need to get along because…” she trailed off.
Jack turned and scowled. “Why?”
She couldn’t tell him. Not if he was going to leave her again. Although he had returned, there still were no words of love, of him staying, nothing. It seemed all he wanted was to seduce her and kill the one man who said he’d be there for her. No, she wouldn’t tell him.
Francois nodded to her.
Jack’s rage nearly boiled over. “You haven’t
told her, have you?”
“There’s nothing to say,” his brother smugly replied.
“You are not worthy of her,” he spat. “Jesus, you are arrogant.”
“And you are?”
“Stop it! Stop it now!” Her voice rose. Jack ignored her and confronted Francois.
“Tell her. I’m sure she’s noticed. Do not drag her into this hell without her knowing,” he said, low, threateningly.
“Tell me what?” For all the years she’d known Jack, he never spoke of his home, never went there either that she knew of. All she knew was he felt his father had the money and power to protect her and Nathan from the war. What was so demonic about this place?
Jack brought Tommy around to face her. “Look at him, Emma. Look at him.”
She looked at the slave. “He’s a child, Jack. Maybe seven, eight?”
The boy nodded. Jack’s tight grasp made Tommy cower.
Jack glared at her. “Look closer,” he demanded.
She squinted. His skin was lighter brown, almost beige even. And he had stunning blue eyes. Her mouth dropped open with sudden realization. “He looks like, like—”
“Me,” Francois said, his voice cold. “Or our father.”
Her stomach flipped. Images of slaves crowded her mind. The memory of the blue and green eyes now meant something. What had seemed an odd occurrence became all too clear. “But there are so many.”
Jack snorted. “Welcome to Bellefountaine, or hell as I think of it.”
The month she’d been there, she’d seen lighter skinned slaves with blue eyes. And two with green.
“There are multiple ways to use slaves,” Jack stated. “Because importing slaves became illegal, what better way to increase their numbers than to encourage breeding them?”
Emma was stunned.
“As for those light-skinned slave girls,” he turned on Francois. “Why don’t you tell her what’s in their future?”
Francois pursed his lips, his blue eyes icy.
“They’re sold to the brothels in New O’leans for a high price.” Jack nodded in agreement.
“No,” she whispered, falling back to the mattress.
Jack went to her. “I won’t allow Nathan to be subject to this. Or you. Your intended would get you with child; he’s proven his ability to do so many times with the slaves.”
“Jack,” Francois threatened. “It’s not as though you’re a saint, as Fanny learned.”
Jack flew at his brother, knocking him to the floor. Francois leapt back up and returned the punch.
“Stop!” she cried.
They tumbled onto the ground, pounding each other. They rolled into a table holding a porcelain tea set and sent everything crashing to the floor. Emma yelled again as Jack pulled his brother up, preparing to hit him again. She saw the blood on them, the look of madness in their eyes.
Her ears started to buzz and the room became edged in blackness. She grabbed the bolster at the foot of the bed.
“Massa Jack,” she heard Tilly shrill as Emma clung to the post.
The slave’s yell finally reached the brawling men’s ears, interrupting their fight, and both panted as they rose from the floor. Emma struggled to stay upright.
Jack was at her side instantly. “Darlin’, you all right? You’re very white.”
Despite her lightheadedness, she glared at him just as Francois stated, “Brother, give her room to breathe.” He went to her as well, limping slightly.
Jack remained where he stood, his concern for her evident. Francois’ casual demeanor annoyed Emma. As her future husband, he should have been worried about her, too. If the room ever stopped spinning, she’d walk out on both of them.
“I came back for you Emma, for you. I can’t believe you are…” he twisted, eyeing his brother, “in love with that scoundrel and that I mean nothing after all we’ve been through.”
She wanted to scream but stood there in frustration, anger building. “After all we’ve been through? You act as though you considered us one, a couple, but how many times did you deny me? Hurt me? You even bedded Caroline! Married her, fathered a child with her, forsook my heart for her!” Tired of fighting Jack in her head, Emma’s tongue was finally loosed.
“Emma…”
“No, you will hear me. You betrayed your home, the South, absolved all ties to your family. Fran told me you haven’t inquired here in years.” She saw his jaw tense…and Francois fight a grin, which irritated her more. “You betrayed me for Caroline, then you stole me from my home, let my husband sacrifice everything so you could get me with child, and, with that act completed, you denied any feelings for me! I saved your life, and for what? You hurt me, Jack. Hurt me!” She was beyond caring about what she said but finally paused in her tirade. Jack looked like a wounded dog.
Emma asked, “So why wouldn’t I accept your brother’s proposal? At least he’s asked for my hand and has been a gentleman for the whole time I’ve known him, but you arrive and claim I’m yours? Ugh!” She spun and nearly lost her balance. From the corner of her eye, she saw Tilly dart out the room.
“Emma…” Jack stood.
“Non, mon frère,” Francois said smoothly, stepping closer. “As you have heard, I’m the better choice.”
#
Jack’s nerves were was on fire. Not only because of the fight with Francois, who had handled himself surprisingly well, but especially because of Emma’s outburst. Apparently she hated him. A hatred he himself had sown. He couldn’t deny any of her accusations. Now, he had to find a way to win her back or lose her forever.
“Emma,” Jack started again, ignoring his brother and no longer aware of the pain from the punches Francois had delivered. “I love you. I have loved you since the moment I met you, back on that creek at Rose Hill.”
She laughed scornfully. “I don’t believe you. I can’t. Not anymore, Jack…”
“It is the truth. I have fought heaven and hell to get here, to save you and my son from the nightmare of my family and to prove to you I love you. I want to marry you.”
“Ma chere, do not listen to him,” Francois said. Jack noticed he seemed to realize Emma might not wed him after all.
She stood there, wordless but shaking her head.
“Please, Emma…”
“No, Jack, no!” Tears sprang to her eyes and the color had drained from her face. Breathing heavily, she said, “You’ve hurt me too much.”
“I never meant to hurt you. I was trying to protect you from me. What future could I offer, being a soldier at war? But I found I can’t fight without knowing I’ve got you to live for.” He took her hand. It was cold as ice. In the warm spring heat, it shouldn’t have felt like that.
“And I have been here, consoling her wounded soul because of the damage you’ve done,” Francois interjected. “I will be here. Always. I also love her.” He now stood next to Jack. “Mon aime, it is all arranged–the priest, the guests, our future.”
#
Emma’s life had quickly become complicated. Francois had been at her side, willing to accept her and her baby as his, plus Nathan. He was sweet, suave, able to take care of her needs and wants, but he had a dark side. She’d known in her heart what his “business” had been in that slave shanty she’d seen him leave.
But now Jack was with her again. He was alive. He had finally said exactly what she wanted to hear for so long–he loved her, enough to go through hell and high water, or war, to be with her. But the past didn’t disappear just because she wanted it to. He had betrayed her, broken her heart. More than once. He claimed he couldn’t go on without her. She was torn. Her love for him remained strong despite everything else, and with his baby inside her…
Both men waited anxiously for her to decide. What should she do? She had promised herself to Francois, and he was right, the ceremony, the guests, everything was arranged for their marriage ceremony—but she didn’t love him. And the fact that he continued to do what he did “for the family” disgusted her.
> It would be so much simpler if she could just live on her own.
But Society would look down on her and make it impossible for her to live in peace, especially without means. And her unborn child would be considered a bastard.
Emma’s head throbbed and her heart ached. She thought she’d be sick, but then there was a slight flutter deep and low inside her. It was as though the baby wanted a say in what she would do.
Torn by emotion, she heard the buzzing in her ears again. She gripped the duvet as the room began spinning. When she heard footsteps in the hall and glanced up, Mrs. Fontaine was standing in the doorway with Dr. Spalding behind her. Tilly must have gone to her. Thank heavens.
#
Jack didn’t hear his mother arrive until she called out to them, “Francois, Jacques, get out of the way.”
The doctor passed them and went straight to Emma. Jack frowned. He knew Emma was upset, but why did she need a physician?
“Both of you boys come here,” his mother ordered.
He knew that tone. Had heard it since childhood—the voice of authority. Although he was an adult, it still caused a chill to go through him, making him feel like he’d been caught stealing a cookie. He’d bet Francois felt the same.
Dutifully, they left Emma and went to her.
“Jacques, I didn’t know you’d returned,” she stated coolly.
“Just got back, mama. I would’ve—”
“Tsk,” she waved at him to be silent. To his brother she said, “My dear Francois, you and I will take a walk and let them have some time alone.”
“No, mama, I can’t leave my—” Francois protested.
“Yes, you will,” his mother replied sternly. Looping her arm in the crux of Francois’ arm, she aimed him toward the door and glanced over her shoulder at Jack. “You and I will speak later. For now, settle your issues with Emma. She has a wedding.” Having issued her orders, she and his brother left the room, Francois still arguing futilely against it.
Jack knew he had only a short time to convince Emma not to marry his brother. With a brief plea to God and steeling himself, he turned to where she sat on the bed. The doctor was discussing something with her, but he couldn’t hear them. Was she sick? Fear gripped him. Tentatively, he walked to them, hoping she was well and forming his argument to persuade her to be his forever.