Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  With that thought in mind, she decided to forget about maidenly shyness. Tonight would give Judah everything she had to give.

  "I must stop now," he groaned. "I should never have allowed it to go this far, but I want you with every beat of my heart."

  Liberty could feel him moving away from her. She couldn't let him go. She would lose him if he stopped now. She had to give him something to remember her by—something she could hold on to after he went away. Boldly, her hand moved across his broad chest to circle his stomach. In her innocence, she wanted to please him. When she heard his breath come out in a hiss, she knew she had succeeded.

  "No," he groaned. "You don't know what you are doing."

  "I do not want to you to stop," she whispered, feeling the muscles in his stomach go taut beneath her fingers.

  "I must. I do not want you to suffer the consequences of this night."

  "I will pay any price to make you happy," she declared softly.

  Liberty discovered that Judah wore nothing beneath the blanket when her hand brushed against his swollen, throbbing, hardness. She quickly drew back, but he grabbed her hand, clasping it in a firm grip. "You must not touch me," he whispered, trying to control his desire. "You must not . . . you . . . shouldn’t...”

  Liberty extracted her hand and placed it against his stomach, unable to venture further down. When Judah gasped, she gloried in the power she had over him. No one had ever told her that a woman could control a man with the touch of her hand. In the next moment Liberty realized her mistake. She was no longer in control. She had pushed him too far.

  Judah gathered her to him, pressing her into the soft mattress. "I cannot help myself. I cannot stop, now." Liberty didn't know if it was a plea or an apology, but it did not matter. All that mattered was the hot hand that was moving across her abdomen, spreading her legs apart —the finger that circled her moist opening, teasing, then slowly, softly moving into the entrance.

  At first Liberty tried to pull away. She hadn't meant things to go this far, had she? His hot breath touched her cheek as his hand moved nearer to paradise. "No," she moaned, feeling as if she would die if he stopped.

  A sob escaped Liberty's throat as she moved her body against his hand. He teased her with gentle massaging motions. Suddenly Liberty could stand it no more. She begged him to go deeper, to put out the fire, to soothe the ache he had built up inside her.

  "Easy," he whispered hotly in her ear. "I do not want to cause you undue pain." Softly, his finger moved forward, finding the barrier of her maidenhead. Momentarily, he paused. Even in his fevered condition, he realized she had never been with a man. "I have no right to — "

  "You have a perfect right," she whispered in his ear. "I will never allow anyone to touch me but you."

  "My dearest, sweet love," he groaned. "I will die happy if I can have one moment of paradise with you."

  Liberty wanted to protest when he withdrew his hand, and when he positioned himself between her legs, she was puzzled as to what would happen next. She thought she would faint from pleasure as his swollen member entered her body slowly at first, until it broke through the barrier of skin, then deeper, until an all-consuming passion shook her to the very core.

  Judah pulled her close to him, kissing her lips, murmuring an apology for any pain he might have caused her. Liberty clung to him as his rhythmic movements set up a tempo that echoed in her brain. The tempo became wilder, and wilder, as he penetrated her further.

  Liberty's pleasure grew with each forward thrust he made. Whimpering, she tried to draw him deeper into her, wanting and needing to make him part of her. She wanted to give so much of herself that he would never forget this night. Her skin was dewy with perspiration as she welcomed his forward thrusts, and her pleasure was building to a fevered pitch. Joy sang in her heart. All at once, she drew in her breath, as a shock wave shivered through her, alerting Judah that he was about to introduce her to a new and far more pleasurable tide of feelings.

  Need and want fired her. Magic, beauty, everlasting joy burst forth from their bodies. Judah had never known such pleasure. This was the woman who had been created to receive his lovemaking. This was his perfect love—the other half of himself that made him a whole man. Never had he felt this oneness with a woman, never had he felt so vulnerable. A shuddering release rocked both their bodies, and Judah clasped her to him tightly while he sprinkled burning kisses over her face. His mind was playing tricks on him again, because he almost called out Liberty's name.

  "From this day forward, I will love no other woman. You have given me joy beyond belief. I worship you—I adore you," he murmured.

  Liberty's heart took wing as he ran a soothing hand over her tangled hair, brushing it from her face and then kissing her swollen lips.

  "I am a woman," she whispered. "Your woman."

  His hand gently cupped her face. "Yes, you belong to me alone. No other man will ever touch you as I have."

  Liberty felt her heart shatter into thousands of fragments. Judah didn't love her, she had almost forgotten that he thought she was Bandera! He had taken her body, believing her to be Bandera.

  Tears ran down her cheeks, as she eased herself off the bed. She had no one to blame but herself. She had left herself open to this hurt. It was she alone who was to blame.

  "Stay with me," he pleaded, reaching out to her. "I never want you to leave me." He could see no more than a vague outline, but he could tell she was slipping into her gown.

  "I must go. It would not go well if they came searching for me and found you."

  Already Judah was becoming drowsy. In his fevered state, he had been drained. "Will you come again?"

  "I do not know. You must sleep now."

  Judah's eyes fluttered shut, and Liberty bent to pull the bedcovers over him. Placing a kiss on his cheek, she discovered that he was still feverish.

  With a heavy heart, she left the cabin and headed for the boat. Her life had changed dramatically in the last two days. Liberty doubted she would ever be the silly naive girl who had believed she could make Judah love her.

  Liberty was now caught up in the middle of a whirlwind, with no way out. Her feet were set upon a path from which there was no return. She would always love Judah. Tonight she had given herself to him, while he thought he was taking Bandera. Everything was in a turmoil, and she had a feeling that in the days ahead, Judah would need her more than ever. She hoped he would soon be well enough so she would no longer have to pretend to be her sister.

  Zippora waited until Liberty was out of sight before entering the cabin. She had come too late to prevent the inevitable from happening. She saw that the flame in the fireplace had gone out, and she bent to relight it. Then she moved to the bed and felt her patient's brow, discovering that he was still feverish.

  A scrap of brightly colored material caught her eye, and she reached to the floor to pick it up. It was Liberty's pink satin ribbon. Zippora shook her head sadly. She had seen the tears in the young girl's eyes when she had run off into the night. Liberty was hurting, and there was nothing she could do about it, because she knew what had taken place in this room. Oui, she had come home too late to keep it from happening.

  Zippora's shrewd old eyes took in the condition of the bed, and a sadness touched her. In his sleep, Judah reached out his hand. "Little one," he murmured. "You smell so sweet. Your lips are like honey. After tonight, you are a part of my body, Bandera."

  "Be silent," Zippora snapped. "I do not want to hear this from you. You can't even decide which sister you want. You do not deserve Liberty." She was quiet for a moment. "But you do not deserve the black spider that is in her sister either. I should have seen this coming, but I did not. You have taken Liberty and used her for your needs. It is my fault."

  "I love you," Judah muttered in his delirium.

  Zippora seated herself beside the bed, and stared into the flickering fire. "I must fix this. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I do not want Liberty to be hurt."

/>   "Bandera," Judah rambled on in his sleep, until Zippora clamped a hand on his arm.

  "You are most fortunate that you did not bed that hellion, M'sieu, but you do not know it yet. Soon enough you will remember that it was your precious Bandera who betrayed you." She chuckled. "Already you do not want to admit that you love Liberty. Your mind will not let you accept that you love one so young. You call for Bandera, but you desire Liberty."

  Zippora knew Judah couldn't hear or understand her. Her eyes glowed yellow in the firelight, and a smile parted her lips. Reaching into the leather bag she wore at her waist, she removed a powder and sprinkled it over Judah's face.

  "You will remember this night you lay with Liberty. No matter where you go, you will remember everything that happened here tonight. No woman will satisfy you. No woman will ease the hunger and need that will burn within your body like a slow fire. You will know no easing of that need until you again lie with your one true love."

  With a crackling laugh, she rose and padded across the floor. "That should give you many sleepless nights, M'sieu. I'll teach you to hurt the little one."

  But as she turned back to Judah, Zippora's face softened with pity for the man who had been so ill used. "You will travel a long way before you finally find that which you seek. May God in his mercy give you a helping hand, for I will be unable to smooth your pathway."

  Liberty climbed up the magnolia tree and slipped in through her bedroom window just as the sun was rising over the Mississippi like a giant ball of fire. She removed her wrinkled gown and quickly slipped into her nightgown. She hastily ran a brush through her tangled hair and glanced in the mirror. Whose was the face that stared back at her? With the soft flush on her cheeks she was almost pretty. Her lips were still swollen from Judah's kisses, and she touched them, remembering those burning kisses.

  Inhaling deeply, Liberty crossed the room and stepped out into the hallway. The time for playing games was over. It was time she did something to help Judah. She entered Bandera's bedroom without knocking. She had to find out what had caused the fire.

  Liberty found Bandera's room empty and went downstairs, walking across the threadbare rug in the hallway and into the dining room. She let her breath out slowly when she found Bandera alone at the table.

  "Liberty, are you feeling better? I know you have been ill. I would have looked in on you, but I didn't want to disturb your sleep."

  "Spare me your concern, Bandera. I know you tried to keep me drugged." Liberty seated herself across the table from her sister so she could watch her eyes. "And I know why you drugged me. You wanted to keep me from talking."

  Bandera smiled. "No one will believe that. Are you not even the least bit curious as to what has happened in the two days you have been . . . ill."

  "Suppose you tell me."

  "So much sadness. Poor Sebastian is beside himself with grief."

  Liberty felt as if something was dreadfully wrong and Bandera was merely playing with her. "What sadness? Do you mean the house at Bend of the River burning, or the fact that Judah Slaughter-?"

  "Do not speak his name in this house. He is the devil come to earth in human form. I hope they catch him and hang him or throw him into quicksand and let the alligators wrestle for his remains."

  Liberty grabbed Bandera's hand. "You do not have to pretend with me, sister dear. I know you and Sebastian lied about Judah, and I intend to prove it."

  Bandera looked into her sister's eyes for the first time. "You couldn't know what that man has done. You were too ill." She dabbed at her eyes. "Prepare yourself for a shock. That madman—that American —set fire to the house at Bend of the River. It is believed that his grandfather and his mother were killed in the blaze!"

  Liberty came quickly to her feet. "Dear God, no! How can that be?" Grief tugged at her heart. "Surely there is some mistake. Judah doesn't even know about it."

  Bandera's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How would you know? You have been in your room. Has he come to your bedroom?"

  Liberty realized her mistake. In her grief, she had almost given herself away. "Of course not. You should know —I am sure you have had me watched."

  Bandera studied her face with a long and hard look. "You are always against me, Liberty. It is my hope that you will stand by me in my hour of need. Maman isn't here, and I need your support. I have sent word asking Maman and Papa to come home at once. Let us hope they will be more understanding than you are."

  Liberty hardly heard her sister's words. She was thinking about Judah and the grief he would feel when he learned about the fire at Bend of the River, and the death of his gentle mother and his grandfather. The web of treachery was closing in on Judah, and he was too ill to defend himself.

  She knew that Sebastian was behind all the trouble. Couldn't everyone see that Sebastian had made it look as though Judah were guilty, when all along it was he who was the guilty one. Liberty wondered how deeply her sister was involved in the plot. Would she go so far as to sanction the burning of Bend of the River to get what she wanted?

  "You said it was believed that Judah's mother and grandfather were killed. Is there any doubt that they are dead, Bandera?"

  "They have not yet found their bodies, but it is doubtful that they could have survived. Most of the second floor was gutted. If they were alive, they would have come forward by now."

  Liberty ran quickly from the room and into the garden. She leaned her head against a magnolia tree and closed her eyes against the tears that spilled down her cheeks. She prayed with all her heart that the lovely Gabrielle, who had been so kind to her, had somehow escaped the fire, and she found it hard to believe that Monsieur Gustave could be killed by anything so insignificant as a fire. He had been too alive—too vital.

  "Oh, Judah," she cried out. "How ill you have been treated since coming to Bend of the River. I cannot bear the pain you will feel when you learn about your mother and grandfather!"

  11

  Judah leaned his head against the cypress headboard and glanced about the small bedroom. The floor was polished, and the yellow and gray rug added color to the otherwise drab appearance of the room. Now that his wound was healing and the weakness that had sapped his strength was passing, he had begun to question many things. Had he only dreamed that Bandera had come to him? Had he taken her to him, or had it all been just hallucination brought on by his high fever?

  One thing was certain, he had to get out of this bed and make his way back to Bend of the River Plantation. He wanted to confront Sebastian. His cousin had much to answer for. Judah realized Sebastian had tried to discredit him in the hope of turning his grandfather away from him. If only Sebastian had known that he did not want any part of Bend of the River, Sebastian could have saved himself a lot of trouble.

  Judah heard movement outside the bedroom door, and he guessed it would be the old black woman who had been administering to his needs. Who in the hell was she? he wondered. And what was he doing in her cabin? So many things were foggy in his mind. Somewhere in the back of his head, he seemed to remember Liberty's voice, soothing and encouraging. But how could that be?

  In irritation, he unwound the white bandage that had been wrapped around his head, and tossed it aside. Slowly, he began to ease himself toward the edge of the bed. He had to get going, for he had no way of knowing how long he had been ill. Surely the Winged Victory had anchored at New Orleans by now. Judah wanted only to collect his mother and get out of this place where mystery and intrigue seemed a part of everyday life.

  But before his feet touched the floor, his head started to swim and he fell back against the pillows. He swore under his breath, realizing he was still too weak to get up. For a long moment he stared at the ceiling, trying to stop the room from spinning. Suddenly, the door was pushed open, and he watched the old black woman enter, carrying a tray of food.

  Zippora stood over her patient, noting how pale he looked. "M'sieu, it is not wise to try to get up until you have had something to eat," she cautioned. />
  Despite his dizziness, Judah managed to rise to a sitting position. "Who are you?" he asked, looking at the woman suspiciously. "If you are working with Sebastian, I warn you, it will take more than you to keep me confined to this bed."

  Crackling laughter rolled off Zippora's lips. "Mon dieu," she said, with a shake of her head. "I have no more love for your cousin than you do, M'sieu. You are not a prisoner here. You are free to leave as soon as your health permits."

  "How did I get here?" He was still not convinced of her good faith.

  Humor lines fanned out around her eyes. "I found you in the swamps, where an alligator was showing a great deal of interest in you. I should have left you there, but I took pity on you." Zippora balanced the tray in one hand while she reached into her pocket and withdrew a bullet and dropped it into Judah's hand. "I kept this for you as a souvenir after I took it out of your chest. You had been shot in the arm as well, but the bullet passed through without harm."

  Judah stared at the offending object. "It seems I owe you an apology. You probably saved my life."

  "Most probably I did, but I had help," Zippora admitted, placing the tray across Judah's lap. "Eat as much as you can so your strength will return."

  "Liberty was here, wasn't she?" he asked, eying the thin broth and crusty bread with distaste.

  Zippora's eyes veiled. "Yes, she was here, M'sieu."

  "How about her sister? Was Bandera here?"

  Zippora's eyes snapped. "That one would not be welcome in my house."

  "I must have dreamed—" He broke off, knowing he could not tell the old woman about the strange dream that had haunted him. He dipped the spoon into the broth and raised it to his lips. The taste was not at all unpleasant.

  "After you have eaten, we must talk, Judah Slaughter. There are some bad things that have happened, and it falls to me to tell you about them."