Scandalous Lovers

by Diana Ballew

  Eden choked back a giggle. Lucy’s aunt was a character. There she sat, waving her flask as proudly as if it were the Confederate flag, her gray hair piled high on her head and her big blue eyes gleaming with joy.

  During her stay the past week, it had become obvious everyone knew Aunty swiggled at her flask on a regular basis. Her secret sips and minor topples into the furniture every so often were considered only small indiscretions by all who loved her, for the generous woman had a heart of gold.

  “You never know when one of those poor wounded soldiers of ours is going to ask for some spirits, and I want to be there for him.” She slid the flask back into her garter with a snap, just as Eliza entered with the sterling tea server.

  “You're so thoughtful, Aunty.” Lucy yawned and patted her aunt’s forearm. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’d like to go lie down a spell—mind?”

  “Don’t be silly, dear, of course we don’t mind. Do we Eden?...Eden?”

  This cousin of Lucy’s—rich and handsome. Just who is this man? Her thoughts trailed back to the attractive rascal she had met earlier at Mr. Johnson’s. What a cad. Perhaps she would have the chance to stroll with this good-looking cousin of Lucy’s in front of his arrogant face. Oh, how that would please her!

  Rayce tossed down the copy of the Richmond Daily Dispatch he had grabbed on the way back to the hotel room. He removed his coat and walked to the window. The general was late, which always gave him cause for concern.

  He pushed the thick drapes aside and saw a group of women dressed in black heading toward the church. The sight brought back the memory of the fiery blonde he had wanted to ravish earlier at Hiram’s shop. If more pressing issues had not been at hand, perhaps he just might have done so.

  There was something unique and fascinating about Eden Blair, making him want her more than the others—and want her, he most certainly did. The entire time he had met with the governor, his mind kept wandering back to the depths of her emerald eyes, the curve of her full lips, and...

  “Dammit!” He snapped the drapes closed with a firm flick of his wrists. The last thing he needed right now was a woman on his mind. Just enjoy ’em and get the hell out of there, he reminded himself.

  He paced the room, determined to keep focused on more important matters. He sat and picked up the newspaper.

  “McClellan Advances! Richmond Must Be Saved!” With the advancement of McClellan’s massive forces, there was no doubt the Confederate capital was in peril. President Davis and his advisors had been meeting behind closed doors the entire day. Barring any unanticipated delay, the general would soon bring him word of his involvement in the plans.

  Heavy footsteps hurried through the corridor, pausing at his door, followed by a quiet knock. He got up, tossed the paper aside, and opened the door.

  “Sorry to have kept you waiting, Rayce.” The general removed his hat and entered the room.

  Rayce shook his hand. “You’re becoming quite the gallant Southern hero these days. I trust you kept the ladies captivated with the cavalry drill?”

  General J. E. B. Stuart tossed his hat on the walnut end table and sat on the upholstered chair, his spurs spinning as he crossed his heavy cavalry boots at the ankles.

  “Well, my friend, we all must do our part. I’m sure you understand that.” The general fingered through a fruit bowl next to him and picked up a peach. “Where did you find a peach this time of year? Never mind.” He snickered. “Don’t answer that.” He held up the peach and inspected it as though he were staring down the barrel of a gun. “Good looking piece of fruit, mind?”

  Rayce raked his hands through is hair and sat on the settee across from the general. “Help yourself.”

  Judging by the suspicious look in Jeb’s eyes as he took a healthy bite of the fruit, Rayce suspected his own pensive disposition had not gone unnoticed. The situation would appeal to Jeb’s romantic nature, but now was certainly not the time to be discussing such matters.

  “Did you make the pickup at Hiram’s?”

  Rayce nodded. “I did.”

  “Does the contact think Pinkerton is suspicious?”

  “No. In fact, everything appears to be going according to plan.”

  “Good. I heard Pinkerton’s men never suspected who you were, and they left Richmond this afternoon empty handed. I was hoping you had the same impression.”

  “What about McClellan?” Rayce grabbed the newspaper and dropped it on the table in front of them. “Time seems to be of the essence more than ever. I know Johnston is rushing reinforcements from the Rappahannock, but if they don't arrive soon, the few men Magruder has holding Yorktown won't be enough. Lord help us all if McClellan finds out how vulnerable we really are.”

  “Ah.” The general smiled and set the half-eaten peach on a cloth napkin. “Thankfully, Magruder has a flair for theatrics. He‘s been doing a fine job deceiving the Yanks, but you’re right, we’re running out of time.”

  “What is it you want me to do?”

  General Stuart leaned forward. “We need you, Major, more than ever, and that’s what we need to discuss.”

  Rayce nodded. “Go on, I’m listening.”

  “General McClellan knows you’re out there. He also knows where your loyalties lie, and I’m sure he remembers all too well your abilities in these matters. After all, you saved his hide in Mexico a time or two, if I remember correctly.”

  Rayce smiled. “True, but what’s your point?”

  “You know the area better than any man I have. Lee and I, along with President Davis, have come up with a plan. Let me just begin by saying, the Ghost shall ride again.”

  Eliza took Eden and Lucy to Chimborazo Hospital in Aunt Martha’s buggy. The local hospitals had grown overcrowded these days, and there were never enough hands to help. Having worked by her father’s side as a nurse, Eden’s presence was especially welcome by the overworked staff. While Lucy spent the hours penning letters home for the wounded soldiers, she changed bandages, cleaned wounds, and assisted the fatigued surgeons.

  Exhausted after the full day, she pulled the pins from her hair and slid between the smooth sheets of the four-poster bed, tucking the goose-down quilt under her chin. While her body felt worn and tired, her mind raced in all directions.

  She rolled to her side and hugged a soft pillow. A gentle night wind stirred, drifting through her cracked window, carrying the earthy scent of the nearby James River. She watched as the thin lace curtains billowed lazily with each small gust...

  She stood near the banks of the river, dressed in her new satin gown. Her hair hung loose, cascading down her back, blowing in the temperate evening wind.

  Patrick slipped in behind her, wrapped his strong arms around her waist, and pulled her tightly against his chest. She tried to remember the last time she felt so warm and safe.

  She listened to the small boats gliding across the river, their paddles treading rhythmically through the water. He nudged her around and bent down to kiss her. She closed her eyes, arching into his embrace, welcoming his mouth upon her own.

  The kiss felt different; deeply passionate, demanding, arousing. He parted her lips with the tip of his tongue, searching their depths, invoking a fire in her never experienced before. Was it she who softly moaned as he pulled away and trailed his lips down the slender column of her throat?

  The feel of his coarse mustache grazing the skin of her bare neck ignited a flame, like the scratch of a match, deep within her core.

  He spoke in a hoarse whisper, warming her earlobe, “Eden, my sweet.”

  His invigorating, masculine scent filled her senses. She kissed him; savoring the taste of fine brandy on his lips and tongue. Her breath hitched, catching deep in her throat, as he kissed her passionately in return, his large hands roaming intimately over her bodice.

  Slowly, she pulled away, resting her head on his broad chest, while the spicy aroma of cigars stirred against his crisp shirt.

  Brandy...cigars?

  “Patrick?”
she whispered, pulling away to look in his eyes. A thick cloud veiled the moonlight, masking the lines on his face. “Patrick?”

  A rush of wind blew the cloud away in a single warm gust, and there he stood, smiling, his dark eyes boring down upon her. A chill traveled down the column of her back as he trailed a finger from the hollow of her neck to the tip of her bodice.

  “Remember me, Sweetness. Remember me.”

  She watched in silence as he slowly turned and walked away, enveloped by the light of the crescent moon.

  “Damn him!” Eden bolted up, flushed, and drenched in moisture. She folded her arms across her chest and sighed heavily.

  With restful sleep clearly eluding her and the disturbing dream invading her waking thoughts, she tossed back the blanket, lit the bedside candle, and shimmied out of bed. Clad in only a thin chemise and carrying the flickering candle, she paced the length of the room.

  The dream troubled her on many levels. Obviously, she must still feel something for the less than honorable Patrick, but the man who penetrated her dream was none other than the lout she had met at Mr. Johnson’s store.

  She walked to the window, pushing the lace curtains aside, and set the candle on the windowsill. She stood tall, absorbing the moonlit darkness, while the light wind cooled her flushed skin. She pulled her hair back to cool her neck and listened to the steady sound of an approaching train churning in the distance. The occasional clomping of iron-hoofed horses echoed as they passed down the nearly deserted streets. Suddenly, her eyes caught sight of a small amber glow radiating from across the street...

  Rayce leaned against the lamppost, his gaze narrowing, following her every move. He slowly rolled the lit cigar between his fingers.

  She moved toward the window and set the candle on the sill. A sliver of moonlight slanted through the glass, highlighting her sensually tossed hair.

  He inhaled the thin cheroot, allowing the spicy smoke to linger against his tongue before exhaling.

  He watched as she swept her hair away from her neck with an unhurried hand and pulled it back in a long golden rope. Slowly, she leaned in toward the window and fanned her face.

  “Now, what have we here?” he muttered, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out his flask and unscrewed the cap, his gaze fixed upon her image above. She leaned in further, and the candlelight illuminated her breasts barely concealed under the revealing white nightdress.

  “Damn.” He took a healthy swig of the amber liquid. Then another.

  When she first looked into his eyes at the shop, her emerald gaze had hit him like a solid physical blow; his gut curling into a tight knot, knocking the breath from his lungs. The conversation with her lively stepmother moments later only aggravated the discomfort. But when he neared the small storage room, the sweet scent of fragrant magnolia invaded his senses, drawing him in like a wayward ship into homeport. And when he stood in the small room studying her, taking in the delicate features of her face and listened to the tenor of her engaging voice, it was as though a haunting tune from long ago had been summoned from somewhere deep within his mind.

  Tonight felt no different.

  Perhaps he had been too harsh with her when she had haughtily accused him of being a coward; as though he had no regard for the soldiers, the war, or its outcome. Somehow, she had managed to hurl him off balance and compromise his ability to keep cool in the heat of the moment. When he firmly grabbed her chin in the flash of anger and forced her full lips to within a breath of his own, God, how he had wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, regardless of her tempered, accusatory charge.

  Christ almighty. This is dangerous territory. This woman has a way of getting inside of him.

  He sighed and stared at the window. The imported cheroot tasted fine; the expensive brandy, even better. As for the unexpected candlelit show appearing in the window above...Damn—was there anything better?

  He inhaled the cheroot and exhaled heavily. Wait. He frowned. But what the hell is she doing dressed so provocatively...and for anyone outside to see?

  A sudden blaze of heat gripped his torso at the sight of her shapely bottom and breasts silhouetted against the flickering candlelight. His heart missed a beat, and a surge of energy streamed through his limbs. Every muscle in his body tightened until it hurt.

  He took a swig of the brandy, his gaze focused on the seductress above. He slowly ran his finger along the rim of the flask, replaced the cap, and stuffed the sterling container into his coat pocket.

  In a world torn apart by war and destruction, nothing could be certain. Yet, as he gazed upon the woman standing at the window above, he knew with unwavering certainty, it would only be a matter of time before he claimed the lovely Miss Eden Blair.

  Eden snuffed the candle in a single panicked breath. “It’s him!” She twisted away from the window and slipped below the windowsill.

  Slowly, she peered up, her eyes just above the window ledge. There he stood, his tall, muscular form leaning casually against the lamppost; the burning glow of his cigar bathing his bronzed face in a soft amber hue. She watched as he extinguished the cigar and folded his arms across his chest, a smile etched upon his face.

  “What is he doing here?” she whispered in a strangled voice. She flushed, realizing he must have been standing there, staring up at her half-naked body, the entire time she tried to unravel her perplexing dream. “I know...I’m still dreaming!”

  She rubbed her eyes until stars danced before them and looked again. Clad in a dark overcoat, his wavy hair blew freely as he stood below, still staring up at her window.

  She slithered down the wall beneath the window, her teeth clenched in anger. “Why, that rotten, no good, arrogant cad. He’s been following me!”

  She shot to her feet, tossed the curtains wide, and threw open the cracked window full-force. “How dare you!” she yelled, her words echoing across the dark, barren night. “I’ve had enough—”

  She turned her head side to side; her words stopped short. Like a ghost in the night, he had disappeared without a trace.

  Chapter 4

  Eden gnawed on her bottom lip as she and Lucy stood huddled together under a small parasol awaiting the arrival of the next train. Large raindrops pelted the thin fabric of the umbrella, and a chilly breeze whirled like ribbons of ice up her pantalets, making her knees quiver. News from battlefields had been pouring into Richmond all morning with harrowing tales of battles won and lost. Disturbing images filled her mind of Isaac and Jimmy—even Patrick, lying wounded or dead on a bloodied battlefield, miles from home.

  “I hear a train. Please, Isaac, be on there,” she whispered, between chattering teeth.

  “He’ll be there. I know he will—I can feel it.” Lucy pulled a cotton handkerchief from her pocket and scrunched it so tight her fists turned white.

  The constant pressure of worrying about Isaac’s safety had made Lucy look pale and fragile. Hoping to ease her mind, Eden changed the subject. “Tell me more about this cousin of yours. You seem quite fond of him.”

  Lucy placed the handkerchief in her pocket and smiled. “That’s right. I can’t believe you haven’t met him yet. Why, most everyone has run into him except you and Ann.” She shrugged. “I think you’ll finally get the chance to meet the one and only Major Rayce Hampton, tomorrow.”

  Eden cocked her head. “He’s a major?”

  “Good heavens—yes!” Lucy sighed. “Silly me. I guess my mind’s as thick as custard these days. Aunty didn’t mention it, either?”

  Eden opened her mouth to respond, but without delay, Lucy continued enumerating her cousin’s glories.

  “Why, Aunty just rambles on and on about him to anyone who’ll listen. She once had her quilting bee on pins and needles describing his escapades as a young man during the war with Mexico. Oh, yes, and then there were those years in Texas in the wilds of the West, and with all those Indians...”

  Indians. This is the man she’d assumed would be an annoying bore?

 
“...Then there was that little incident with Preacher Leroy’s daughter. He almost had to marry the poor girl, but of course, we all knew he didn’t do it.”

  Eden smiled. It was good to see Lucy’s eyes sparkle under her chestnut hair and the rosy color rush to her cheeks.

  “And if all that wasn’t enough, he spent the last few years before the war down south in Charleston and New Orleans. Aunty told me he managed to capture the charms of many a Southern belle only to break their poor lil’ hearts soon thereafter.”

  “I think I hear a train,” a young private said to another, as they walked toward the depot.

  Lucy glanced down the tracks before leaning closer. “Personally, I think Rayce would make a wonderful husband if he found the right woman, even if he doesn’t know it yet. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes...he finally came back to Virginia when he inherited his grandfather’s estate, Hampton Manor. You’d think a man who has experienced so much would be older than his thirty-four years.”

  “Yes...yes, you would think so,” Eden murmured, after taking in everything Lucy had said.

  Lucy clutched Eden’s arm. “I’m such a ninny. I’m sorry to ramble on like I do. I just find him fascinating and charming, and every time I—”

  Eden turned when the loud train whistle blew. The wood-burning locomotive moved slowly toward the depot, belching dark clouds of thick, resinous smoke high in the moist air. The engine groaned and panted, the brakes grinding in exaggerated shrieks along the rails. Finally, the clank and clatter of the link pins silenced, and like honey bees leaving their hive, swarms of people emerged from the mud-spattered cars.

  The two women watched and waited. Finally, after the last person exited the train, the mountain of metal and dense smoke prepared to move on.

  “I hope he’s all right.” Eden spoke to allay her own fears, twisting her stomach into knots. “That brother of mine has always made me fret with worry.”