by Diana Ballew
He inhaled the delicate scent of sweet magnolia in her hair; watched her long lashes cast small shadows on her cheeks when she blinked in the moonlight. He closed his eyes. A man could grow old and never tire of a woman like her. Not ever.
Lord. But now was not the time. Any distraction or diversion, no matter how lovely or tempting, could get him killed these days. With the relentless war and dangerous threats accumulating, he needed to stay alert and focused. Just as he’d expected, the war was heating up. God only knew where he’d be headed next. When he’d be back again.
If he’d make it back again.
He opened his eyes and gazed out across the water. “Fog is rolling in,” he whispered.
Eden turned around and laid her head against his chest. “I’m chilled. I wish I’d brought my shawl.”
She pressed against him, her firm breasts nudging his ribs, and wrapped her arms around his waist. The sound of her soft hands sliding slowly against the course fabric of his coat made him instantly harden.
God, he wanted her. Right now—right here; a good old-fashioned down and dirty romp right on the ground. Every muscle in his body felt on edge—alive—ready to pounce. What he wanted—no, what he needed—from her was to feel the swell of her warm chest against his, to run his hands along the delicate curves of her small waist, and to kiss her luscious mouth before he left again.
His instincts had managed to keep him safe all these years, and as he held her, felt her vibrant young body pressed against his, those same instincts poked and prodded at him, nagging him to stick to his guns as he drew her closer. Given the circumstances, it was too damn reckless to consider anything else with her.
No, what he wanted from Eden Blair involved pleasure—nothing more. Christ almighty, if he ever were to settle down, it sure as hell wouldn’t be with someone like her, given her damn temper. No way, he reasoned, he’d like a taste of her fiery spirit all right, but only in the bedroom where the energy could be savored.
“I hope my actions haven’t changed your mind about staying at Hampton Manor,” he said, looking out at the distance. “I want you to know you and your family are welcome as long as you wish.”
He stroked the silky mane draping down her back, wondering what it would feel like to grab a handful, wrap it around his fist, and ravish her right on the spot. The muscles in his torso tightened. Her flourishing femininity tortured his senses to the core, but experience told him Eden was innocent in matters of the flesh.
He scratched the evening stubble on his chin and sighed. Slow it down, ol’ boy. He closed his eyes tightly shut, forcing the lovely image out of his head. “I won’t ever push you into something you’re not ready for.”
When he opened his eyes, she was gazing up at him, smiling. “As long as you can keep your raging desire bridled, I think the living arrangement will be fine, Major.”
He frowned and slowly shook his head. “Lord, woman.” His voice barely rose above a hoarse whisper. “Don’t you understand? Some things are easier said than done.” He tilted her head back, exposing the flesh of her neck, and kissed the soft, slender column, his mouth trailing higher until he reached her mouth.
She pulled away from his lips and whispered against his cheek, “Oh, Rayce, tell me this is lunacy. Tell me, and we can stop this madness right now.” She kissed his neck. Once. Twice.
He inhaled jagged breaths, his fingertips curling deeper into the small of her back with each brush of her moist lips against his throat. Hell if he could explain what was happening between them—the strange force threatening to unravel his life.
Perhaps it was madness.
“I have no rational answer for you, my dear. Maybe it’s the world around us that’s gone mad.” He cupped her chin, tilting her face to his, and looked deeply into her eyes. “All I know is you’re sending me back to the depths of hell with a memory to warm my cold nights.” He bent low, his lips brushing hers. “Kiss me, Sweetness. Let me take this moment with me, and if I should be—”
The moment Rayce whispered against her lips, the sweet hint of brandy so close she could taste it, her walls of distrust crumbled. She rose on her toes and silenced him with her lips.
He instantly wrapped her in his arms, enveloping her until she felt like they disappeared from the rest of the world into a universe all their own. Her body warmed in his arms despite the chilled fog rolling in.
“Major? Major Hampton?” A man called from around the corner.
Rayce slowly pulled his lips from hers. He gripped her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Listen to me. I knew the first time I saw you, I wanted you, Eden. Promise me you’ll remember this night. Remember me...no matter what happens.”
Remember me. Where had she heard that before?
She had no time to answer before his mouth sought hers once again. His demanding kiss felt desperate, and she couldn’t help wonder if this kiss came from a man who desired her, or from a soldier who thought it might be his last.
His eyes remained fixed upon hers as he pulled away. “Over here!” Rayce called back.
A young soldier appeared, lowering his head when he realized he had intruded upon the major in an intimate moment.
“What is it, Lieutenant Severson?”
“Er...I'm sorry, sir—”
Rayce sighed. “That's quite all right, Jeffrey. What is it you need?”
“I have an urgent message from General Stuart, sir.” The lieutenant straightened his spine, extended the lantern, and handed his superior the folded piece of paper. Rayce paused a moment after reading it, then slid the note into his pocket. “Please tell the general I'm on my way. That will be all, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.” He scurried off.
Eden reached out to Rayce. To her surprise, he slid his hands into his pockets and turned away. He took a step back and shook his head as if flushing cobwebs from his thoughts.
“I have to go. I’ll escort you back.” He took off his coat and turned around to face her. “Wear this.”
She searched his face, only to find cool, dark eyes staring back. The time spent with him tonight had been an unforeseen pleasure, and she thought he felt the same way. Instead, she sensed his rejection—chilly, composed, and arrogant—as if he owned the world, as though she were nothing more than another one of his trite dalliances.
“That’s it?” she asked, her voice rising. “I had fun seducing you tonight, Eden. Now, here’s my coat?” She swatted at the garment he extended. “Keep it.”
The chilled fog crept over the bluff, weaving slowly between their legs like an eerie ghoul in search of prey. The major looked into her eyes, took a step forward, and stopped abruptly.
She slid her trembling hands in the folds of her gown and glared at him. “How dare you, Major. How dare you take advantage of me!” Before she had time to contemplate her actions, she swung at him.
Rayce grabbed her fist and trapped her body against his. “Eden, stop it now. You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand all right,” she sneered, wrangling with him. “I understand you’re a no-good, low down rat!”
“Whoa, now.” He held her firmly, taking hold of her flailing hands. With her anger clearly getting the better of her, she was more than capable of landing a serious blow. He gripped her wrists, holding them tight. “Now, calm down, Eden. I told you—”
“Let go of me, you cad!” she snapped between clenched teeth. “I said, let go of me!” She stomped on his thick, leather boot with the heel of her shoe.
He couldn’t help but smile at her temper. No doubt about it, he admired her vitality. He bent down and whispered in her ear. “What, no goodbye kiss?”
“A goodbye kick is what you deserve!” She frowned and narrowed her eyes. “I hope the Yankees get you, and I never have to see the likes of you ever again!” Her voice echoed across the tall bluff, sending sleeping birds fluttering from trees in all directions.
Her venomous words stung, and his body instantly went rigid. The moist fog mo
ved in around them, chilling everything in its lifeless path.
“Be careful what you wish for, my dear.” He released her arms, and they fell limply to her sides. “I really must go. Let me escort you back.”
“No, Major,” she said, her voice cracking and breathless. She cast her gaze toward the river. “I'm perfectly content to stay out here...alone. Goodbye.”
He stepped toward the path but paused and turned around. He reached out, his fingertips just inches from her slender back, then pulled away. He couldn't look into those beautiful eyes again, full of pain and confusion, without scooping her up and kissing her lovely face. No, he reasoned, he could not—he would not do this to her.
He slowly walked the path toward the hall. Regardless of what she thought of him, he spoke the truth. He would carry the memory of their heated kisses into battle, and the lovely image of them together would warm his dark nights while he sought shelter under the damp forest canopy in the dead of night. But the government needed him now more than ever. It was as simple as that. Endless danger and persistent threats would be his constant companions in the next weeks. Any other preoccupation could mean a death sentence for him and anyone he cared about, if he were not careful. His line of work was far too dangerous and unpredictable. No way in hell would he put her in harm’s way. Up until now, this had not been a problem. Up until now, he had not met Eden Blair.
He stopped to light a thin cheroot. He smiled, realizing he would never light another cigar without thinking of the fine woman who unwittingly charmed him to the point of distraction from her bedroom window.
He closed his eyes, inhaling the spicy, pungent smoke, and all he could see was Eden’s beautiful face, smell the delicate hint of magnolia in her hair. How her body responded to his roving hands; her innocence, eager and willing, tempting him with the promise of more. Even the damn petty arguing with her he enjoyed. As for her raw, sensual instinct to survive she exuded when her back was against the wall...Hell, that excited him to the core.
He exhaled with a long sigh. It wasn’t just her body he wanted—he wanted all of her.
Good Lord, get a hold of yourself!
With a heavy boot, he extinguished the cigar and continued on his way.
The sound of Rayce’s dying footsteps sent a spike straight through her heart with each retreating step.
How could I be so amazingly stupid?
If he had not intruded on her private walk, she would not have been so vulnerable to his wicked game of seduction. At just the right moment, everything in her life had come to an emotional peak, and she had offered herself to him perfectly ripe for his picking.
She had known the brazen man gave into his desires and his reputation tarnished, stained black, with previous scandals of passion, and, yet, she had been drawn to him just like the others.
She lowered her face in humiliating disbelief, recalling his hand roaming over her bodice and how she didn’t even try to stop him. Then a more terrifying thought crossed her mind.
She spun around and faced the empty wall of fog. I acted no better than a common harlot. I behaved like Ann!
Chapter 6
Hampton Manor,
Tidewater, Virginia
Eden awoke to a dark room, but the sliver of sun glinting between the velvet draperies hinted of a dazzling day. The thin slice of bright light danced off her perfume bottle on the tall mahogany bureau, casting whimsical rainbow spectrums fluttering across the decorated walls.
Eager to face the morning, she eased herself from the four poster-bed and opened the drapes. She pulled the ribbon from her braid, sank back in bed, and brushed her hair as she sat looking about the large room, now filled with the light spring day.
They had been at the manor more than a week, and she still viewed the place with awe. Lucy had told her the major lived in a splendid mansion. Still, the spectacular beauty and mystique surrounding the massive, well-kept plantation had come as a surprise. The manor and her grounds were reminiscent of an English lord’s paradise, and as much as she had adored Oak Hill, her former home simply paled in comparison.
Hampton Manor’s interior gleamed with rich heritage and fine craftsmanship, obviously dating back many years. The dark, paneled walls and carved woodwork held beautiful oil portraits of the Hampton clan, their faces revealing pride and prosperity.
Blending with the home’s beauty and elegance, a sense of mystery shrouded the old walls. She couldn’t help but wonder about the faces in the hanging portraits, as she imagined them walking the sprawling grounds and long dimly lit hallways.
Framed within the heart pine mantel, the last of the warm fire lay in small glowing embers, reflecting off the cream marbled flooring. With the coverlet held snugly against her chest, she sat up tall and peered out the window.
In the distance, she could see the sweeping lawn leading to the river below and the manor’s private wharf. After the rains of the last week, the weather had turned lovely again, and she looked forward to the tour of grounds.
The last days had been terribly hectic. As many had suspected, the nearby town of Yorktown was in desperate peril of invasion by General McClellan and his large Yankee army. Southerners were asked to help prepare sandbags to fortify the town. For three straight days and nights, through thick mud and rain, she, Lucy, and Ann worked alongside the servants until their hands were sore, scooping the gritty sand from the James River into thick canvas bags.
News about the war spread quickly along the river, and Eden took comfort in hearing the Rebels were doing a splendid job holding the enemy army at bay. Still, with Yorktown only a short distance away, and the Yankee army intent on seizing Richmond, a nagging uneasiness persisted. If the Yanks advanced, Hampton Manor would lay in the path of the huge army as it moved to seize the Confederate capital and all that lay in between.
Given the circumstances, she felt it wise to prepare an area in one of the outbuildings as a makeshift infirmary. The manor’s private doctor had joined in the war effort a year earlier, but a few of his supplies remained in his quarters, and she quickly seized the inventory.
She located bandages and soap, a tourniquet for hemorrhages, as well as oil of turpentine for dysentery and a small supply of quinine. Elsewhere, she found whiskey, extra blankets, lanterns, and matches, and she instructed Daniel to gather hay from the barn to have stacked for extra bedding. There would be plenty of water from the creek, root vegetables, bread, and extra ham and bacon from the smokehouse.
An abrupt knock at the door startled her, and she quickly yanked the coverlet up to her neck. Every time someone knocked on her door, she expected to see Rayce. Even if he were home, with his appalling lack of decency, she doubted he would bother to knock.
“Yes?” she called out. “Who is it?”
“’Tis me, Miss,” the servant said. “I’ve brought you hot tea and biscuits.”
Eden looked at the clock over the hearth, and her eyes met with those skillfully painted in oils with the name Captain Reginald Hampton at the bottom, etched in gold.
The painting gave her goosebumps. No doubt about it; not only did the dark, leering eyes follow her at every point in the room, they clearly resembled those of the new master of the manor, Major Rayce Hampton. The family resemblance was striking, and it made her skin crawl with the eerie familiarity cast by the portrait.
“Do come in, Trinidad.”
The tall black woman entered carrying a serving tray. The morning sun sparkled off the tasteful silver, and she noticed the large “H” within a crest, engraved into the sterling.
“I think to myself, you must be hungry, Miss. I know how hard you worked this week.”
Noting Trinidad’s accent, Eden questioned its origin—Cuba, West Indies, perhaps? A distinct rhythm, smooth as soft silk, accented her tone.
The mysterious woman had a way of watching others that made Eden uncomfortable. More often than not, she would spot Trinidad lurking in dim corners, tidying up, or dusting areas previously tended to. Generally, hous
e servants were visible; anticipating the many needs of the families and guests, but Trinidad appeared vague and elusive, rarely offering assistance. However, with Rayce as master of the manor and his atrocious manners, nothing should really surprise her.
“Miss Lucy feel in poor health this morning. A touch of dyspepsia, I told.” The servant set the tray next to the bedside. “She’s sleeping now.”
Eden reached for the extended teacup, wondering if perhaps Trinidad did not like her. The possibility bothered her. “I’ll check on Lucy later, then. Thank you.”
She sipped the tea, and while Trinidad spread honey on the biscuits, Eden examined her closely for the first time in the bright light.
The woman looked striking with her smooth ebony hair pulled tightly behind her head. Small golden strands weaved wildly throughout the well-formed bun, highlighting the wiry ringlets dangling from her temples. Only a few strands of gray gave away her age. What had Lucy said? She’s about forty.
Her flawless skin glowed and reminded Eden of a rich shade of creamy cocoa. Her high cheekbones looked as though they had been deliberately carved to perfection, and she had the most unusual shade of eyes—a light brown with gold sunbursts woven throughout. She was lovely and must have been a stunning beauty in her day.
“Is anyone else awake?”
“Everyone except you and Miss Lucy, Miss.”
“Hmm...where’s Ann?”
The servant’s full lips curved in a smile, and she cast her gaze downward. “She be in the parlor with a caller—a gentleman caller. She say she won’t be touring the grounds today.”
Eden cocked her head to the side. “A gentleman caller? Who?”
“The widower, Master Will Benton. He come calling to pay his respects. She was the only one awake. She downstairs with him now.”
As if on cue, Ann’s trumped-up laughter echoed through the large parlor below.
“Who’s the widower Benton?”
“He be an old friend of Ray—” Trinidad’s gaze shifted away.
“Just a friend of the major...down river.”