Scandalous Lovers

by Diana Ballew

  “What?”

  ”’Tis true, Miss. Daniel told him no doctors here at Hampton Manor anymore. Then the man said he would shoot Daniel dead if he don’t find help. Daniel told him he has a wife and children and please not to shoot, but the man said maybe he just shoot Daniel, anyway. Then Daniel told him we have a nurse, and he sent me to get you.”

  “I have to help this Yankee? What's wrong with him?”

  Trinidad lowered her gaze. “I do not know, Miss.”

  With a shake of her head, Eden forced the distracting nudge for more sleep from her mind. “Where is Daniel now?”

  “He be on the portico...with the Yank.”

  “All right.” She sighed. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”

  Eden dressed as fast as she could and made her way down the staircase. Her pulse beat wildly in the hollow of her throat at the thought of helping the Yankee enemy. How she wished Rayce were here!

  “Hello there, pretty lady,” said the drunken sergeant, “I got me a sick soldier, and this old negro here says you're a nurse who can help him.”

  Tears pooled in the corners of Daniel's round eyes. “I'm sorry, Miss—”

  The Yankee spun his head and faced Daniel. “Who told you to talk, old man?”

  “Enough!” The last thing Eden wanted was trouble. She inhaled deeply and glared at the soldier. “Leave him alone, and I’ll help you.”

  The sergeant cocked his head and slowly turned on his boot toward Eden. His top lip curled up at one corner. “Well, that’s more like it.” He holstered his pistol. “Come with me.”

  Eden stood firm. No way in hell would she walk alone with this man back to their campsite. “Daniel comes, too. He assists me.”

  The Yank eyeballed Daniel up and down. “Fine.”

  The sergeant led the way with Eden following. Daniel ambled behind them, carrying a lantern, while a bright moon in a cloudless sky helped light their way.

  They entered the area where the Yanks had set up camp around one of the empty outbuildings. Taking note of the smells emanating from the campfire, Eden realized the men had helped themselves to a couple of loose chickens and a slab of bacon.

  She took the lantern Daniel extended, and the three entered the small outbuilding, while the other two Yanks remained outside, tending their confiscated meal on the fire.

  The ailing Yankee soldier was lying on his side, crumpled in half. Eden held the lantern out, suspending it above, and the man moaned as the light neared him. His long, sandy-blonde hair and beard glistened with grimy sweat. Judging by the look of his lean, slender build, he appeared to be a young man.

  She hiked up her skirt a few inches and crouched low. She touched the back of her hand to his forehead and neck. Sweltering hot. “Daniel, go fetch cool water and some cloths.”

  Daniel hesitated. “No disresptin', Miss, but you sure you wanna be left alone with...” He flashed the sergeant a menacing glance.

  She patted Daniel’s arm. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Yes’m.” Daniel nodded and left.

  “So, what’s wrong with him?” asked the sergeant.

  Eden opened a few buttons of the ailing soldier’s shirt at the neck and chest, looking for a rash or swollen glands. “I don’t know yet. It could be a number of things. First, I want to see if we can cool him down. These fevers have to break on their own most of the time. Tomorrow morning, first thing, I want you and your men to move him to another area where I can better assist him.”

  The sergeant nodded. “We can do that.”

  “Tonight, after I leave, I want you to keep an eye on him. Watch for any changes. Perhaps other symptoms will show up by morning. Then I'll have a better idea.” She cast her gaze toward the ill Yank. “How long has he been like this?”

  The sergeant rubbed his whiskered chin and looked at the ceiling, contemplating the question. “We’ve been skirmishing the last few days nearby, and we left yesterday...” His gaze shifted downward, “Uh, with new orders, and such. He’d been talking of feeling poorly this morning. Then, when we were a few miles downriver, it seemed the more we rode, the worse he felt, so we fixed here on your place before it got dark.”

  Daniel entered with a bucket of fresh water and cloths.

  The Yank grabbed his canteen and took a swig. Light amber liquor dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it with his dirt-dusted sleeve. “Then, not long ago, he just started saying he was feeling tired and dizzy and couldn’t eat nothin’. Now he’s hotter than a musket shootin’ uphill.”

  Eden dipped two cloths in the water several times and wrung them out. “He’s very hot, indeed.”

  She bent low and placed a cool cloth on his forehead and one on his neck. He flinched as if he’d been burned and rolled to his back. Suddenly, his eyelids flew open.

  Eden bolted up—staring. Her heart stopped dead, resuming seconds later with a massive thud against her chest, nearly knocking her to the ground. She groped for the bare wooden wall to keep herself from falling to the ground.

  Her hands trembled. “You two leave.”

  “Wha—?” Both Daniel and the Yankee protested.

  “Don’t argue with me—go now!” she snarled, startling them both.

  The two men shuffled out the door as though their britches had caught fire.

  She stared down at the Yankee man whose steel blue eyes gazed back, fixed steadily upon her own.

  “Eden,” he whispered with a weak smile. His fingers reached up and gently clutched a strand of her long hair hanging to her waist. “I knew...it was you.”

  She sighed. “Hello, Patrick.”

  Chapter 11

  The merciless weeks of focusing on the missions had been on his mind night and day, but once Rayce hitched the horse and trudged up the portico steps of Hampton Manor, he knew he could leave it all behind for a night or two.

  He reached for the entry door, taking note of the lingering scrape on his wrist from the damn Yankee straggler. He’d planned on taking his horse back and simply letting the Yank go, but when the fool whipped out the Bowie knife, it sure made shootin' him all the easier. Too bad the bastard nicked him good before he fell dead on the ground. When the wound got infected, completing the mission with the searing pain and fever had only made the long hours of riding more exhausting than usual. Thank God, the worst of it managed to pass on its own. These days most soldiers weren’t as lucky.

  Ah, well, he smiled. If he remembered correctly, a certain little nurse would be just down the hallway, should any of his physical needs require proper attention.

  He entered the darkened house and removed his filthy boots at the entry. Finding his way across the moonlit floor, he lit a lamp and went straight to the sideboard in the parlor to pour a brandy before heading to bed. At nearly four in the morning, it was roughly an hour before the roosters started crowing. Best he didn't wake anyone.

  With every footstep up the long stairway, the warmth of his comfortable bed seemed to beckon in a hushed whisper along the smooth banister. Finally reaching his bedroom, he washed up quietly, undressed, and climbed into bed with a long sigh. His head no sooner hit the pillow, when he heard the sound of soft snoring followed by stirring near his feet. He reached down, fingering the foot of the bed.

  Fur.

  Beau. Damn dog...finds the best place in the house to sleep.

  Too tired to shoo the mutt out, he lay back against the pillow. He shut his eyes, and something moved under the covers next to him.

  “What the devil?”

  Slowly, he reached across to investigate. Slender arm, petite waist, and the unmistakable long mane.

  Now, what have we here?

  She was lying on her side, facing the wall. He inched in closer, molding his body against hers, and slid his arm around the curve of her waist. A soft, sleepy sigh escaped her lips, and she curled against him. He breathed in the sweet magnolia fragrance in her hair, pressed against his chin; the scent that called to him each and every lonely night the last weeks.

&nb
sp; “Eden,” he whispered.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Are you awake?” He gently slid her hair to the side and kissed the delicate nape of her neck. Christ. He was already growing hard.

  “Rayce?”

  The sound of her dreamy voice calling his name sent a jolt of heated desire straight to his core. He moved his hips closer and pressed against her warm back. “It's me, Sweetness. As you can tell...I've missed you.”

  This isn’t a dream?

  She uncurled her body and stretched her toes. Instantly, her bare leg met with a wall of curly hair as he draped his calf over hers. Part of her wanted to feign sleep and wish him away while she gathered her thoughts. The other part responded to the heated touch of his leg upon hers, the bristly strokes of his mustache grazing the nape of her neck with each soft kiss.

  After the madness of yesterday, it seemed as though her world had been turned upside down. Seeing Patrick again jarred memories foreword; memories of the good old days before he left her for the war, before her father died, before Oak Hill burned to ruins. Hearing his soft southern drawl calling her name, his fevered hands on hers, needing her again; no wonder her resolve had softened to churned butter.

  She had missed Rayce, but the images of him embracing his tearful servant, smoothing her curly hair with gentle, unhurried hands, would not go away no matter how hard she tried.

  With her emotions whirling like a top, she had needed to feel close to him again, to inhale his unique blend of masculine scents, and try to get a grasp of her feelings for each man.

  Earlier, with the house quiet and everyone asleep, she had come up with a brilliant plan. She tiptoed down the long, dark hallway at the end of the wing and poked her head inside his bedroom. Immediately, a swift stab of guilt pierced her belly. But once she set a foot inside, she knew it was something she wanted to do. No, something she needed to do.

  She had quietly closed the door behind her and fumbled around his bedside table until she found a candle. Once she struck the match, his presence surrounded her like a balmy breeze blowing clear through her soul, enveloping and protecting her.

  One of his unlaundered shirts had been lying across a chair. She picked it up and breathed in his scent upon the sleeves, the back, the collar. She shimmied out of her silk chemise, letting it drop to the floor in a puddle, and slipped into the cotton shirt. She rolled up the long sleeves to her elbows and slid between his bedcovers, sinking deep into the soft, down feather mattress.

  Now, as if her thoughts had traveled through the whispering spring breeze, Rayce had come home again.

  She spooned her backside against his warm, naked body. “I've missed you, too.” She rolled over to face him.

  He whispered, “You don’t know how often I thought of you. Of touching you again.”

  “Me, too.” She reached down, and with a finger as light as a plume, she stroked the tip of his manhood, surprising herself at her boldness. He inhaled sharply, and his body quivered, piquing her interest further.

  “Lord, woman...I want you.” He inched in closer and drew her head against his neck.

  The feel of him, the masculine scent, Lord above, she wanted him, too. She gently took hold of him and moved her hand slowly, rhythmically. He pressed forward, positioning himself deeper, and a husky moan of pleasure escaped his lips.

  Having Rayce in her hand, she sensed the power she had over him at that moment, emboldening her further. She bent low and kissed his broad chest, then his neck, trailing her lips up to his welcoming mouth.

  The small amount of moonlight left in the waning night sky embraced his silhouette. She pulled the remaining covers from her waist and moved above him, straddling her legs on each side of his hips. Before her, his shaft stood full and erect, and she used both hands to stimulate him. His breath caught, hitching deep in his throat, and the hard muscles in his legs tensed.

  He tugged at the shirt she wore. “Pardon me, darlin’, but this has got to go.”

  She bent low and whispered in his ear, “Then take it off, Major.”

  The power of seducing him felt nothing less than intoxicating. She increased the pace of her movements, and he moaned and groped, trying to unbutton the absurdly tiny buttons on the shirt.

  “Forget the damn thing!” He reached under the shirt and gently kneaded a breast in each hand.

  Her nipples instantly grew rigid as he caressed her and thumbed the stiff peaks. She grew warmer, wetter, as she moved her hips with the rhythm of her hands stimulating him, arousing him, seducing him.

  Rayce grasped her gently rolling hips, guiding her so she rubbed directly against him, without entering her. By God, she felt unbelievably slick and warm as she slowly slid along the length of his shaft. The muscles in his legs and torso tightened, feeling as though they could snap without warning, like the string on an old fiddle.

  She paused, and his breath caught in his lungs. He watched in the pale, predawn light as she slowly pulled the shirt over her head and let it slide from her delicate fingertips to the marbled flooring. At the sight of her naked body perched upon his, and her warm, silken treasure pressed against him, he thought he would explode right then and there. He focused on her hair, her breathing, her lovely face.

  Her velvety lashes lowered, resting against the top of her cheeks. Captivated, he watched as she slowly leaned down and pressed her breasts against his chest.

  She kissed his neck and whispered, “Rayce, I want you inside me.”

  Dear God. He froze, letting his head clear. As much as he wanted to roll her over and give it to her like there was no tomorrow, a little patience was in order. No doubt, Eden was still an innocent woman.

  He kissed her lips gently, tenderly. “I assure you, Sweetness, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

  He eased her over so she lay underneath him. Flickers of rising sunlight poked through the curtains illuminating her golden hair, fanned out in a wide arc across his sheets. Her lithe, ivory legs were sprawled wide beneath him, and the tips of her firm nipples scorched his chest.

  “Tell me you're sure, Eden. I refuse to force myself on you.”

  She gasped the moment his hand moved lower and parted her soft downy hair. Gently, he slid a solitary finger inside of her, taking his time, readying her. “Tell me,” he repeated. He slowly withdrew and slid the moistened finger in gentle circles around her small bud.

  “Yes,” she whispered in jagged breaths, “I'm sure.”

  His lips lingered against her throat. “There's no turning back after this.”

  It had been ages since he had been with a virgin, but she was more than ready. Thank God, he probably couldn't have waited any longer, anyway. Having such a lovely creature, lying ripe as a sweet peach beneath him, felt like nothing less than torture.

  “Sweetness...If you’re ready, I'm going to take you now,” he whispered against her neck. He trapped her small, quivering bud between his fingers, waiting for her reply.

  Her breath hitched for a split second. “Oh, Rayce,” she said, her words soft and breathless against his ear. “I’m ready.”

  He entered the opening of her slick sweetness. Instinctively, he felt driven to thrust hard and deep inside her with a single selfish plunge, but he knew better and inched his way in, stopping when he felt her thighs tighten. As soon as she loosened them again, he would ease himself in further.

  “Rayce, take me,” she said against his earlobe, “Take me now.”

  He felt the precise moment he took her innocence. She gasped in a flash of pain, digging her fingertips into his back, her thighs gripping his hips. He paused, staying perfectly still, until her discomfort passed.

  “The worst is over now,” he whispered, rising up on his hands. His heart stopped dead in his chest, resuming seconds later after seeing her emerald eyes gazing back at him, burning with desire.

  He inched in further, and her thighs suddenly released their firm grip. And like a ripening bloom unveiling its petals for the first time, her lissome legs opened
wide for him.

  “Eden,” he whispered.

  This was madness, but she didn’t care. “Rayce,” she breathed.

  His mouth descended down upon hers, his tongue coaxing her lips apart. She slid her hands up his back and over his broad shoulders. Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed him with all she had to offer.

  Her heart.

  The heat of his breath felt scorching hot upon her neck as he moved in and out, deeper, faster. His lips trailed across her throat, his coarse mustache scratching her skin, hurting her, arousing her, all at the same time. Her insides swelled, gripping the length of him, enveloping him with each powerful thrust.

  She trailed her fingernails down the length of his back, digging into his firm buttocks. “Oh, Rayce,” she whispered.

  “Go with it darlin',” he said, his voice low and husky. He reached down, pulling her bottom up with his hand. He thrust deeper, and she raised her knees higher, meeting his demands.

  A low-throated groan of pleasure escaped his lips, sending fiery shivers rushing across her naked skin. He moved inside of her, filling every inch. An energy inside began to rise, her insides shuddering with a desire so deep, her nipples went rock hard with each unyielding plunge.

  Suddenly, the room spun and everything around her went white. She cried out as waves of passion seized her body. She writhed beneath him, welcoming his moans of pleasure, and felt the sizzling heat of his desire rain within her.

  Their tangled bodies lay framed by the amber sun pouring through the cracks in the curtains. The sounds of songbirds in the high trees outside filled the room as they held each other, welcoming a new morning.

  Eden woke to the voices of Rayce and Ann talking below on the first floor. Fast as a shot, she sat up and listened.

  “Major, please calm down,” Ann pleaded. “Daniel says one of the boys needed medical attention.”

  “Let me get this straight. You're telling me there are Yankee stragglers camped on these grounds? Am I hearing you correctly, Mrs. Blair?”