Return to Me

by Rosemary Rogers

  Seward cleared his throat and tamped down the tobacco. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Jackson? I’m sorry to hear about your wife’s ill health.”

  Jackson shook his head, hoping he hadn’t made too much of an ass of himself. “I leave for Chattanooga within a day or two.” He took a step back, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you for seeing me, sir.”

  “I’ll contact Mrs. LeLaurie and make her aware of the change in plans.”

  “No,” Jackson said. “I…I need to speak with her myself. If it’s all right with you, of course, Mr. Secretary. I’ll tell her of the change of assignment and let her know that she can see you for the details of her new mission.”

  “Take care of yourself,” Seward offered as Jackson backed out of the library. “And take care of that wife of yours. I only had the pleasure of meeting her once, but I knew her father and I know what mettle the Campbells are made of. She is a beautiful woman, and intelligent. A man would be fortunate to have such a woman at his side.”

  “Thank you, sir. I agree with you. I am very fortunate to have her. Good night.” Jackson closed the door behind him. Now that this was done, he was anxious to see Marie and put an end to whatever it was they’d had. Perhaps then he could go back to Cameron and make amends.

  If it was still possible.

  “Jackson, love.” Marie swept into his private study on the first floor of his Baltimore mansion.

  She was as stunning as always, dressed to attend the opera in a pale gold silk gown that bared her shoulders and most of her lovely breasts. A headdress of tiny feathers and golden beads adorned her ebony hair. She was a goddess from an ancient civilization, come to walk the earth for a single night. “I came as quickly as I could when I received your message.”

  Jackson looked beyond Marie to Addy, who had shown his guest in and was now standing in the doorway scowling, her loyalty to her mistress plain on her face. It was obvious to Jackson that Cameron had earned the devotion of his staff in his absence. Cameron had told him that this house wasn’t her home. Hell, apparently it wasn’t his anymore, either.

  “You may go, Addy,” Jackson said.

  She backed up, pulling the brass doorknob.

  “But leave the door open,” he called.

  Addy made a point of pushing the door fully open again, all the time scowling at Marie.

  “Heavens,” she huffed. “These negroes have certainly gotten on their high horses since this Thirteenth Amendment was introduced in Congress, haven’t they? The next thing you know, they’ll be saying it gives them the right to vote!”

  Jackson rose from behind his desk, studying Marie’s beautiful face. Looking at her now, he saw a hardness he had not seen before. Had it always been there?

  “I’m sorry to disturb your evening. I know you’re bound for the opera,” he said stiffly.

  “For you, Jackson,” she purred, “I would walk through the dry desert. Climb the steepest—”

  “Marie,” he interrupted, not in the mood for her manipulations. “This won’t take but a moment.” He did not come around the desk to greet her as would have been proper. He didn’t know if it was because he feared he might still find her willing body tempting, or because suddenly she disgusted him.

  How could he have been so foolish as to think that she had ever loved him? During the war, when she had been proclaiming her love for him on those lonely nights when they had hidden in abandoned homes and barn lofts, she had been telling other men precisely the same thing. How could he have been such an idiot? Hadn’t he left her years ago because she had shared her affections with another man while still proclaiming her devotion to him?

  “Has there been word of Thompson?” she asked, watching him carefully. She seemed surprised by his tone, unsure of what to make of him. “I can be ready within two hours.”

  “Marie, you’ve been assigned elsewhere.” He glanced at the paperwork spread across the mahogany desk that had been his father’s before him.

  “Reassigned?” She pursed her red lips in a seductive pout. “Whatever do you mean, Jackson?”

  “My words seem self-explanatory. I will continue to investigate Thompson’s Raiders. Secretary of State Seward has a new assignment for you.”

  “He can’t reassign me.” She started to walk around the desk to him. “I’ll simply tell Mr. Secretary that—”

  “Marie. This wasn’t Seward’s idea. It was mine.”

  She halted, her dark eyes widening. “What?”

  “I told Seward I didn’t want to work with you any more.”

  “Oh, heavens, Jackson, don’t tell me your wife—”

  “Leave my wife out of this,” he snapped, anger building in the pit of his stomach. “I don’t want to work with you any longer because I find I cannot stand the sight of you.”

  She drew back, a flicker of pain in her dark eyes, but then her face hardened. “You cannot do this,” she whispered under her breath. “Men do not cast aside Marie LeLaurie.”

  “No? Then, consider this a first, Marie. I’m leaving Baltimore tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” He glanced around the book-lined study. “I don’t know that I’ll be returning at all.”

  “Now wait one moment, Captain Jackson Logan,” Marie snapped. “I will not stand for this kind of treatment from you.” She grabbed the pressed black lapels of his evening coat. “We’re not done until I say we’re done, and if you don’t come to your senses, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” he demanded icily as he closed his hands over hers and forcibly removed them from his coat.

  “I’ll tell your wife,” she threatened.

  Jackson had known when he called Marie here tonight that she might say that. But surely she wouldn’t travel all the way to Mississippi to speak to Cameron. From what Seward had said, Jackson gathered Marie had other married men to pursue.

  “You’d better not,” Jackson cautioned, meeting her gaze.

  “Or what?” she challenged in a shriek. “What will you do?”

  He walked away from her, headed for the door. “It’s not me you have to fear,” he said, strolling out of the study. “It’s Cameron Campbell. Addy,” he called. “Please show Mrs. LeLaurie out.”

  23

  “We saw Efia in town today,” Cameron told Taye.

  Taye looked up from the book of Longfellow poems she was reading. She had reread the same page three times. “Did you?”

  “She asked about you.” Cameron sat on a chair with Lacy in front of her on a footstool. She was attempting to brush the months of tangles from the girl’s wild red-blond tresses.

  “That was kind of her.” Taye smiled, only half listening to Cameron.

  Thomas had sent a message late in the afternoon that he would be unable to return in time to join the women for supper. A pressing business matter, he explained, before apologizing profusely. What truly upset Taye was that she was not terribly disappointed. Guilt had set her nerves on edge. She didn’t want to be unkind or ungrateful. She truly wanted to be the person her mother had raised her to be, but inside she was fighting to become her true self. She just wasn’t sure yet who that was.

  To add to her discomfort, while Thomas had been unable to attend supper, Falcon had been pleased to join them. He came wearing a red flannel suit coat with shiny silver buttons that would have looked ridiculous on any other man, and yet on him, was strikingly handsome.

  After behaving like the Southern gentleman Taye knew he was not, escorting the women to the dining room and pulling out their chairs for them, he had entertained Cameron and Lacy with tales of the West where he had ridden with herds of buffalo and climbed cliff walls of ancient dwelling homes built by Indians long gone.

  Falcon was confident, self-assured and, she realized, actually amusing when he so chose. He seemed to feel passionately about the adventures he related and his enthusiasm was contagious. No matter how hard Taye tried to ignore the man, when he spoke, she could not help but be rive
ted to every syllable. When he described them, she could not help but feel the dry desert sand beneath her bare feet or hear the pounding of the buffalo herds’ hooves as they rounded the crest of a hill.

  And when his dark-eyed gaze met hers across the table, she could not smother the fire that he kindled inside her. Just a glance, a word from him, and Taye’s insides crackled with an unidentifiable energy. She could barely sit still, fidgeting more than Lacy did. She could barely eat. All she could think about were the kisses she and Falcon had shared and the feel of his hand on hers in the carriage today. He had been understanding and comforting without being judgmental and she couldn’t help but appreciate the kindness he had offered.

  Taye dragged her thoughts away from Falcon to focus on what Cameron was saying. She was chattering on happily, and Taye was glad to see that with each passing day, she was becoming more herself again. “It was really rather odd,” Cameron was saying. “Efia asked about Thomas, when you would be marrying and where you would be living.”

  “I’m sure she was just curious.” Taye forced a smile. “Would you like me to try a hand at Lacy’s hair?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “No!” Lacy rose off the stool with the comb caught in her hair, her hazel eyes suddenly round and wild. “Cameron will do it.”

  “All right.” Taye lifted her hands, speaking softly. “It’s all right, Lacy. I was just offering to help, that’s all. Cameron can do it and I’ll watch.”

  “Sit down,” Cameron gently told Lacy, pressing her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Else I’ll rip the hair right out of your head.”

  Lacy eyed Taye cautiously, but eased down onto the stool again.

  Lacy did not seem to be any more fearful of Taye than any of the other women in the household, but she definitely felt an affinity with Cameron. The men in the house, however, were a different story. It was obvious that she greatly distrusted men. When Jackson had attempted to help her down from their carriage upon their arrival at Atkins’ Way, she’d tried to bite him. It had taken Cameron, Naomi and Taye and a stick of hard candy to get the girl out from under the carriage seat where she’d retreated when Jackson set her free.

  Taye recognized immediately that the young girl, whoever she was, had probably been abused by men, and she was not upset by Lacy’s distrust of her. It was only natural that Lacy would attach herself to Cameron because she had found her. And Taye couldn’t help feeling that that was just what Cameron needed right now.

  “I think I’m going to bed, Longfellow and I.” Taye closed the book and rose. “See you in the morning.” She looked to Lacy. “And young lady, you and I will meet after breakfast to begin your first lesson in reading.”

  Lacy’s opened her mouth to protest.

  “Now, now,” Taye said kindly, but firmly. “We can sit at a table right in the study while Cameron works. You’ll be able to reach out and touch her. But schooling you need—” she waggled a finger “—and schooling you will have.” She smiled. “And let me tell you, you would prefer my methods to hers.” She hooked a thumb in Cameron’s direction. “She has no patience whatsoever. She’s a terrible teacher.”

  Cameron laughed, pulling the comb through a single smooth lock of the girl’s clean hair. “She’s right about that, Lacy.”

  Lacy offered a tentative smile. “Thank you. Good night…Aunt Taye.”

  “Good night, sweetheart.” Taye blew Cameron a kiss, and with her book tucked under her arm, she walked upstairs.

  Taye had nearly reached her room when she felt a hand touch her shoulder from behind.

  She nearly jumped out of her skin. “Oh,” she cried, half fearing it was one of Naomi’s lost souls haunting the hall. She clutched Longfellow to her breast. “Falcon, you scared me half to death.” She could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

  “I am sorry.”

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” she chastised, hugging her book.

  “I did not sneak up. I only wanted to ask you how you were feeling.” He stood in front of her, studying her, not allowing her to break eye contact, no matter how badly she wanted to. “He did not come home.”

  “It’s all right. I understand. He—” She felt herself tremble. She didn’t know if it was the emotion of the day, or just having Falcon so near. She was so confused. Confused by her feelings for Thomas and her feelings for this man she barely knew, whom she dreamed of at night.

  He took her hand in his warm one and she immediately calmed. She watched, mesmerized, as he lifted it to his mouth and kissed the pad of each finger. With each kiss, a spark of pleasure rushed through her hand, up her arm, to her torso. By the third finger, he had lit a fire in the pit of her belly.

  Taye trembled. She didn’t understand. How could a man make her feel this way with a mere touch of his lips to a finger?

  Falcon finished with her thumb and then brought her hand to his face. Lost in the depths of his ebony eyes, she found herself stroking his shaven cheek, reveling in the feel of his warmth at her touch.

  He guided her fingers across his cheek to his chin and up to his sensuous lips. She found herself brushing his lips with her fingertips, recalling the feel of them on her own mouth.

  It seemed only natural that he would lean into her, that she would tilt her head, lift her chin, so that his lips could brush hers. She stroked his chin as his kiss deepened and a tiny sigh escaped from her parted lips.

  Taye felt her body tense in sweet anticipation as Falcon encircled her in his arms, cradled her in his warmth and strength. When she felt his hand on her waist, she didn’t pull away. Nothing mattered but the taste of him. She couldn’t get enough. Then, before she could think, before she could stop him, he brought his hand up beneath her breast.

  A sound caught in her throat. It was meant to be a protest, but it came out as something else. A sigh…a moan.

  Even through the fabric of her gown and underclothes she could feel the warmth of his hand on her breast. She felt her nipple harden, and suddenly the soft silk of her chemise felt like rough old wool against her bare flesh.

  He only cupped her breast, stroked it through her gown for a moment before releasing her.

  But she wanted more.

  Taye dropped her chin, feeling the heat of embarrassment cross her cheeks. Or was it something else, this molten fire pulsing through her?

  She didn’t know what to say. All she knew was that if she didn’t get away from Falcon this very moment, she’d follow him into his room. And then she didn’t know what she might do, caught in his spell as she was now.

  “Taye,” he whispered, and somehow her name sounded like something exotic. Something beloved.

  She raised her hand to stop him. “Please. Don’t say anything,” she whispered. “Not tonight.” Then, still clutching her book, she slipped into her room and closed the door behind her, throwing the lock.

  For several minutes Taye stood with her back pressed to the door, her eyes closed as she waited for her heartbeat to slow. She listened to the sound of Falcon’s steady breathing on the other side of the door. Then she heard his footsteps.

  Only once they had died away did she allow herself to open her eyes. “Oh, heavens,” she breathed. “What am I doing?”

  She flung her book on a side table and walked to the far side of the room where she poured herself a glass of cool water, left in a pitcher by Patsy. It was almost dark outside now, the room heavy with shadows. And it was so hot, hotter than it had been earlier.

  Taye finished the glass of water and kicked off her shoes. She stripped off her stockings and then unbuttoned the front of her day gown. She dropped the dress and the constricting corset to the floor in a pile. It was unlike her to make such a mess, but she still couldn’t catch her breath. The heat, of course. She needed to be rid of the heavy clothing.

  At last, in nothing but her thin, silk shift, she lay out on her bed, on top of the coverlet. The house was quiet. Outside she could hear frogs croaking and the faint call of a night bi
rd.

  Taye squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the taste of Falcon’s mouth on hers. The feel of his hands.

  Without realizing what she was doing, she slid her own hand over her breast, imagining it was his. She was shocked to discover that her nipple was still hard from his touch. She brushed her fingertips over the soft flesh and was surprised by the ripple of pleasure that immediately stirred inside her.

  She had never felt this way before. Never touched herself before. What had the Cherokee awakened in her?

  Taye caressed her other breast gently, then with more purpose. Little ripples of warmth washed over her. Realizing that the source of the pleasure seemed to come from her nipple, she touched it, apprehensively at first, then again. She brushed the hard tip with the pad of her thumb in fascination.

  Another ripple of pleasure. Stronger.

  Taye closed her eyes and parted her lips, breathing deeply. Her pulse had quickened. Her heart was beating faster, though she lay perfectly still in the darkness.

  She lifted her other hand and touched both breasts at the same time. More ripples, ripples that seemed to radiate downward.

  Taye’s breath became shallow as she slid her hands over her flat stomach with nothing between flesh and flesh but the silk chemise that now clung to her damp, perspiring skin.

  Something told her she should stop. She knew she shouldn’t awake these feelings, yet she couldn’t help herself.

  Taye felt her hand, almost of its own accord, glide lower. She gasped as she brushed the apex of her thighs. She had never realized such feelings could come from there.

  Using one finger, she boldly outlined the soft flesh of her sex beneath her chemise. With every brush of her fingertip, her pleasure amplified. Her breathing increased.

  Suddenly Taye felt as if she were on a mission. She didn’t quite know what she was seeking, or how she would reach it, but it was there, just a step or two away.