Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  Zippora, on her early morning walk, was gathering roots and berries, while her grandson chased a bright!} colored butterfly. When she saw the boat, she cautiously moved closer and saw the unconscious man whose head and chest were covered with blood. Bending over him she touched his forehead to see if he was alive, and he cried out. "So much pain, so much pain."

  She called to her grandson, Reuben, and bade him help her remove the man from the boat. The rain continued to fall as they made their way slowly toward a nearby shelter Often the old woman and the young boy paused in their task to rest, for the unconscious man was very heavy From the looks of him, Zippora thought he would b< dead before morning.

  The room was small and had the musty smell of rotting vegetation. When Judah opened his eyes and stared through a rotted roof at a cloudy gray sky, he realized he was lying on the dirt floor of a tumbledown house. There was an air of dilapidation about the place. The windows were shuttered, and it was difficult to see with the light of a candle casting grotesque shadows against the crumbling walls.

  An old woman stepped out of the shadows. Around her head she wore a white tignon. Her gray gown was spotlessly clean, belying her filthy surroundings. Through half-closed eyes, she regarded him narrowly, her masklike face unreadable. When she spoke it was with a heavy French accent, but her voice had a strangely soothing effect on Judah's jumbled mind.

  "You have been injured, but are in good hands. My grandson and I will attempt to take you to my cabin so I can tend your wounds. Can you assist us in getting you into the boat?"

  Judah's mouth felt like he had swallowed cotton. "Where am I?"

  "You are in an old abandoned farmhouse. We had to bring you here until the rain stopped."

  "Who are you?"

  The old woman shook her head. "It is of no matter. You are in friendly hands. Come," she said, assisting him to his feet. "You have got to remain conscious long enough to help me get you away from here."

  Zippora saw the pain in Judah's eyes as he took a staggering step forward. He was in a bad way. Not only was there danger from his wounds; he had caught a chill from being so long in the rain. Each step Judah took brought on a jarring pain. He was too ill to think past the next step . . . and the next. Finally they reached a boat, and Judah fell forward, to be lost in a world of darkness.

  It was much later when Judah awoke to find the same woman at his side. His eyes vaguely followed her as she bent over the fireplace and lit a fire. Shadows played across her cinnamon-colored face, and there was dignity, almost hauteur, in those strange yellow eyes that held his glance.

  "Am I dead and in hell?" he mumbled.

  Her hand touched his fevered brow, and the last words he heard were a strange prediction. "You may wish many times that you were only in hell, Judah Slaughter."

  Judah did not know that he now lay upon the snowy-white bedcovers of Zippora's own bed. As the old woman cleansed his arm and removed the bullet that was still embedded close to his heart, Judah did not even regain consciousness. Zippora's sagacious eyes saw beneath the surface and into the cloudy future. She knew who this man was, having seen him from a distance several times. Judah Slaughter was important to Liberty, but he had much trouble coming to him. Zippora applied salve to the gash on his forehead, then bound it in a white cloth.

  She felt his forehead and discovered that his fever was now dangerously high. The next few hours would be critical. They would determine if this man would live or die. And something else would, too. She could feel this young man's unrest. She was experiencing his outrage at being betrayed. He was going to need more than she could give him if he was going to make it through the hours ahead. He needed someone to take his hand and pull him out of his torment.

  Zippora stood up, took her scarf, and wrapped it about her head. "Stay by his side, Reuben," she told her grandson. "I am going to bring Liberty to sit with this man whom she loves."

  The young boy nodded and plopped down on the floor beside the bed so he could watch over the strange white man.

  When Zippora stepped outside the cabin, the wind was so strong it almost whipped the door out of her hand. This is good, she thought. She could sneak onto Briar Oaks Plantation without being detected.

  Liberty stood at the open window, allowing the wind to cool her face. Having realized she was being drugged by her sister, she had pretended to take the liquid that had been spooned into her mouth earlier, but when her sister had departed, she had slid out of bed and staggered to the window. There she had spit out the bitter-tasting potion, and had tried to clear her mind.

  Her thoughts were in a turmoil; she kept trying to remember what was nagging at the back of her brain. Digging her fingers into the soft, gold velvet curtains at the window, she remembered that Judah was in trouble. He had been accused of a crime he had not committed. Dear, God, he had been hurt!

  Liberty knew she had to do something to help him. Her legs were shaky as she weaved her way across the room. She found her old gray gown and slipped into it, then pushed her feet into her boots. Grabbing her black cloak, she pulled it over her shoulders. It would be impossible to leave through her bedroom door, so she went to the window.

  Many times in the past years Liberty had used the magnolia tree as a means of escape from her room. She stepped out on the ledge and eased herself onto a branch. The ground looked a long way off as she climbed down to a lower limb. She took a deep breath, wishing her head would stop swimming.

  Moments passed as Liberty clung to the tree for support. Still shaken by the effects of the drug that had been administered to her, she felt her grip slipping and knew she was about to fall. She reached out her hand to grasp another branch, then sighed in relief when she secured it. A whimper escaped her lips as she fought down the churning nausea that assaulted her.

  Cautiously, she glanced around, making sure no one was about before she dropped to the ground. She leaned against the trunk of the tree for support, wondering if her trembling legs would hold her weight.

  A hand fell on Liberty's shoulder, and she whirled around, fearing she had been discovered. Relief washed over her when she saw Zippora standing there. The black woman raised a finger to her lips and motioned Liberty to follow her. "Come, I will take you to Judah Slaughter."

  Without question, Liberty followed Zippora. They clung to the shadows as they made their way down to the river. Once they were in Zippora's boat, and away from the house, the old woman spoke.

  "The white man is very ill. I have come for you, knowing you can do more for him than the medicine I have given him."

  Liberty grasped Zippora's hand. "Is he . . . going to die?"

  "It is not well with him."

  "How did you find him?"

  "That is not important."

  "He didn't do what Bandera accused him of, Zippora. Judah Slaughter is innocent."

  "I do not know about such things. But I will tell you this, I saw that there had been a fire at Bend of the River. I felt death in the air."

  Liberty leaned back against the splintered boat while her eyes searched the eastern skies for some sign of the fire. By the time they rounded the bend, she saw people milling about the site of the fire and she shivered. It seemed the second floor had received the heaviest damage. The first floor had somehow survived.

  Liberty's eyes sought Zippora's. "Do you know if anyone was hurt?"

  "This I do not know, but I will find out after I take you to the white man. The fire happened two nights ago."

  Liberty looked astonished. "How is it possible that my sister kept me drugged for two days?"

  Zippora applied the oars to the water, and the boat quickly skimmed over the surface. "We will talk of that later. Right now I want to get you to my cabin as quickly as possible."

  The journey downriver seemed endless. By now Liberty's head had cleared, and she was most anxious to see Judah. She did not know what had happened in the days she had been drugged, but as soon as she could, she intended to go to Judah's grandfather and tell him t
hat his grandson was innocent. Liberty didn't care if Bandera faced ruin and disgrace for her part in the deception; she only knew that Judah had to be cleared.

  Judah was dreaming of Bandera. He could feel her soft hand on his forehead, cooling his fevered brow. Her smile melted his heart as she took his hand and held it to her cheek. He could feel that her face was wet with tears. Was she crying for him? Surely he had only dreamed she had betrayed him. Bandera was too angelic—too honest—to lie. "Bandera," he muttered. "Bandera."

  Liberty held Judah's hand to her lips. Even after being betrayed by her sister, he still called out to Bandera. If it would make him feel better, she would pretend to be Bandera.

  She stared at his pale face, then she softly kissed his lips. "Sleep," she whispered. "Sleep, so you can heal, Judah. I will stay beside you until you wake."

  Judah's hand tightened on hers, and his chest rose and fell with a relieved sigh.

  Throughout the night his fever raged, and he called out to Bandera many times, but it was always Liberty who soothed his nightmares, and Liberty who spoke to him, imitating her sister's voice.

  10

  Judah was gripped in the thralls of a nightmare world. When he opened his eyes, he found dark, unfamiliar surroundings. His head was throbbing painfully, and he felt as if the bed beneath him was spinning. He clung to the headboard until his knuckles whitened, while trying to bring his eyes into focus. He squeezed his eyes together tightly, hoping the room would right itself and the sick feeling in his stomach would go away. How did I get here? he wondered, and where am I?

  Slowly, fragments of his memory fell into place, and his mind began to clear. It was as if he had stepped out of a thick fog into the light. He remembered the treachery that had brought him to his present circumstances—whatever those circumstances were. He now suffered all the cutting pain of betrayal. It did not matter to Judah that Sebastian had tricked him, but it tore at his heart that the beautiful Bandera had helped Sebastian.

  "No, not Bandera," he moaned, hoping his memory was at fault. Surely he had misunderstood what had happened in the barn. Bandera was too sweet to cause another person harm. "No, she would not betray me," he said aloud.

  "It is better not to talk." A soft voice came to him from out of the darkened room. "Close your eyes and try to sleep." He felt a cool hand on his brow, and it immediately soothed him. He thought he could hear little Liberty's voice, feel her cool hand touch his cheek.

  "Say you will stay with me. Swear it." He tried to focus his eyes so he could see in the dark, but all he could make out was a shadowy outline.

  Liberty felt tears drop from her lashes onto her cheeks and roll down them. In his fevered mind, he must have again mistaken her for Bandera. What harm would it do to bring him comfort by pretending to be her sister? The room was dark, and he couldn't see her face. All she had to do was imitate Bandera's voice.

  "I did not betray you, Judah. If I had, would I be here now?"

  His hand tightened on hers. "Say you love me," he demanded. "Say it!"

  A sob was building up in Liberty's throat, and she could hardly speak. "I love you with all my heart," she choked out.

  In the darkness, she could feel him groping for her face. His fingers outlined her mouth as he brought her head down to his. "Kiss me, sweet love. Let me once again feel your soft lips against mine."

  Liberty did not know what was expected of her, but she didn't see any harm in pretending to be Bandera if she just gave him one kiss. No one would ever know. His hot mouth settled on her trembling lips, causing Liberty's breath to catch in her throat and her whole body to be filled with an emotion she could not put a name to. She quickly drew away, fearing what these new feelings might evoke.

  Judah's voice broke through the stillness as his searching hands found and clamped on her arm. "No, do not leave me in my nightmare world. If you have any regard for me, stay for a while."

  "I . . . shouldn't."

  "I need you. Lie beside me."

  His plea was Liberty's undoing. She would do anything for Judah if he needed her. What did it matter that he thought she was someone else? She eased her weight onto the bed, fearing she might cause him pain. When he pulled her against his fever-hot body, she tried to hold herself rigid. She had never been this close to a man before. Since Judah's chest was bare, Liberty feared he might not be wearing clothing beneath the patchwork quilt.

  His hand moved softly from her shoulder to her breasts. Liberty's first instinct was to push him away, but she didn't. She decided that if she lay very still he would realize he was being far too bold and stop.

  At first Judah did not move the hand that rested against her tender young breast, and he was seemingly content to gently cup it in his palm. When his thumb slowly circled the taut nipple, however, Liberty felt waves of excitement awaken in every nerve-end of her body. Through the thin material of her linen gown, his finger circled around and around, softly, sensuously.

  Liberty caught his hand and moved it away. "You must not, Judah. This isn't right."

  "If I do no more than touch you, can there be harm in that?"

  "You know there is."

  "I need something to hold onto." He moistened his dry lips and Liberty saw that his eyes were glazed with fever.

  What if Judah where to die! she thought frantically.

  "Help me get through the pain," he pleaded, striking a cord of pity in Liberty's heart.

  She suddenly felt older than her fifteen years. The man she loved was in agony, and only she could help him. "Hush, hush, my darling. You are very ill. If you will but rest, everything will look brighter in the morning." She tried to soothe him, much as a mother would soothe a troubled child.

  "Stay with me," he begged, clasping her closely and burying his face against her soft breasts. Dear lord, he was burning up with fever. She could feel the heat of his body even through her gown. Liberty wished that Zippora would return because she would know how to help Judah.

  Tears wet her cheeks, and sobs built up from deep inside. The pain she felt was so intense that it ripped at her heart. "I will not leave you," she promised. "I will help you get through this night, my love."

  Taking Judah's face between her hands Liberty raised it up to her own. Softly, almost shyly she pressed her lips against his.

  A low sound tore from his throat, as he tasted the saltiness of her lips. "You do care," he breathed. "You do love me." In Judah's mind Bandera's face faded and Liberty's materialized. "I tried not to love you. You are too young and I would only hurt you. But I cannot help myself. I could sooner die than forget you."

  "Oui, I do love you, Judah."

  "Let me make love to you," he groaned, reaching for the fastenings on her gown. "If I be damned for it, I will die a happy man."

  For a moment, Liberty had forgotten Judah believed her to be her sister. The pain of being reminded did not discourage her from bringing him comfort. Let him think she was Bandera if it would bring him peace.

  Liberty stiffened as his burning lips settled on hers. She gasped at the tender feelings he put into the kiss. Surely it was the kiss of a man in love—a man who worshiped the woman whose lips he devoured. She parted her lips and his tongue slid into her mouth, tasting the sweetness.

  Everything was so new to Liberty. She battled with her ignorance of not knowing what was happening to her. Her young body reacted wildly to his every touch. As his tongue moved in and out of her mouth, building up a tempo, heat was building in her veins, and finally her body was trembling with thrill after thrill. Driven by a deep need she could not control she touched her tongue to his.

  Instantly Judah pulled her so tightly against him that she could scarcely breath, and his hammering heart beat a quick tempo against her breasts. His need had reached a fevered pitch. He craved the soft body that was driving him slowly out of his mind. The soft gentle fragrance he always associated with Liberty was weaving through his brain.

  "I love you," he whispered. "You belong to me."

>   Liberty was so carried away by the new feelings she was experiencing that she was only vaguely aware that Judah had slipped her gown off her shoulders. When his hands untied the laces on her chemise, she could only moan a weak protest that was quickly smothered beneath a searing kiss.

  His lips played with the tips of her silken lashes. Then, slowly, and with mind-destroying patience, his mouth moved across her lips, down her arched neck, to find bliss in her firm satiny breasts. His tongue circled, tasted, then circled again with featherlike softness.

  No longer did Judah feel the pain of his wounds. He was driven by stronger feelings —by a need to possess this female creature who was driving him out of his mind. He had never felt so alive.

  He realized that she was inexperienced, but he would be tender and loving with her. He would not complete the act, but would save her virginity for their wedding night. She was fever in his brain, fire in his blood. He would make this a night she would remember. Afterward, they would be married and he would take her away from this hell.

  When she raised her trembling fingers to touch the rough outline of his face, he kissed them one by one. Again his mind was becoming fuzzy, and he realized that fever was clouding his reasoning. Tomorrow would be time enough to worry about the future; tonight he would be in paradise.

  Liberty bit her lips as Judah's tongue moved across one breast, leaving a moist trail, to tease and torment the other. She groaned with pleasure and arched her body, wanting to be closer to the heat of his mouth. Clasping his arm, she felt muscles bulge against her fingers. She vaguely remembered her mother telling Bandera it was a woman's duty to please her husband. How could it be a duty to please a man when there was so much pleasure.

  As Judah's hand moved over Liberty's hips, the breath seemed trapped in her lungs —she couldn't breathe. She wanted to be a part of him and for him to be a part of her. Perhaps by using her body, she could burn Bandera out of his mind forever.