Cameron fully intended to tease him beyond the point of return, but just when she knew he was close again, Jackson grasped her shoulders firmly and lifted her to her feet. “Cam, stop,” he groaned. “You’ll be the death of me.”
“Death wasn’t what I had in mind,” she murmured, smiling against his lips. She lowered her hand to his burgeoning shaft again. “It would be all right if—”
“No, no, it wouldn’t be all right,” he argued, understanding what she was about to say. He grasped her hand, pulling it away and pushed her back against the railing.
It was dark on the deck, but in the moonlight she could still see him gazing into her eyes. The gray orbs were too cloudy with desire to tell what he was thinking, but she sensed a softening in him. He really did still care for her the way she knew he once had.
Jackson began to raise her gown and layers of petticoats and her crinoline. Not breaking eye contact, she took the bunches of fabric from his hands and leaned back on the rail, tilting her hips upward.
His hand found the damp, soft folds of her flesh and she bit down on her lower lip to stifle her own cry of pleasure. “Jackson,” she moaned.
Holding her in his arms against the rail, he slipped inside her. She caught her lower lip between her teeth yet again and dropped her skirting so the yards of fabric surrounded them.
Jackson encircled her in his arms and rocked against her. Cameron held tightly to his shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut as great waves of pleasure struck her like ocean water on the shore. Jackson’s breath in her ear, warm and panting, only increased her ardor. He moved faster, nearing the brink and Cameron opened her thighs farther, taking him as deeply as she could.
She opened her mouth in a sudden cry of fulfillment and he pressed his lips to hers so that barely a sound escaped. With one last moan, Jackson grew still.
Cameron suddenly felt as if she could not stand. Her legs were weak and her head spun. Her breath was still coming too quickly, her heart pounding.
Jackson withdrew, pushing her gown skirting down, and quickly closed his trousers. Then he opened his arms and she went to him. They traded places at the rail so that he could lean on the sturdy bar and she could lean against him.
Cameron rested her cheek on his chest and listened as his pounding heart slowed to a steady pace. When he kissed her forehead and pushed a lock of damp hair from her cheek, she could smell the scent of their lovemaking on his fingertips and that perfume sent a trill of happiness through her.
Lifting her lashes to look into his eyes, Cameron slid her hand up to Jackson’s shoulder. For once, she had nothing to say. He brushed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss and she was content.
“I’d like a room,” Jackson said to the man standing behind the large, ornately carved front desk of the Three Sisters Hotel on Royal Street in New Orleans.
Cameron gazed at the elegant lobby and the winding mahogany staircase that led upward. Through arched doorways , she saw a lovely courtyard where guests were being served lemonade and sweets. It was sunset, and the fragrant, tangled magnolia trees had taken on a lovely air of grace in the fading light.
“How long will you and the lady be staying?” the man asked, with a thick Creole accent.
“I don’t know. Two or three nights.”
Cameron glanced at Jackson. Last night they had huddled on the deck of the paddle wheeler and talked for hours after making love. Jackson had told her his plan to save Taye. It was an impossible feat. Outrageous. But right now, they had to find Taye and get her home to Mississippi to set the events in motion.
“Certainly, sir,” the clerk said.
Jackson leaned on the desk. “Could you tell me if you have a guest here by the name of Falcon Cortés?”
“I’m sorry. We do not.” The clerk smiled. “Could I have your name, sir, for our records?”
Jackson frowned. “It’s Captain Jackson Logan. And Mrs.”
The Creole’s broad forehead creased. “I am sorry, sir, what did you say your name was?”
“Captain Jackson Logan.”
“How odd,” the man remarked. “We already have a Captain Logan staying with us. A tall man with a petite, pretty wife. A relative?”
“Looks like we found them.” Cameron smiled.
Jackson and Cameron halted at the hotel room door just down from their own. She knocked. Behind the door, they heard sounds. She recognized Taye’s voice, though she couldn’t hear what was being said. Falcon’s voice was a low rumble.
After a long moment, the door opened a crack.
Falcon took one look at Jackson, at Cameron, and opened it to let them in.
“For a Cherokee brave, you don’t hide well, friend.” Jackson brushed past him.
“You know me too well,” Falcon answered, stepping back to let Cameron pass.
Inside the room was a small trunk, obviously being packed. Jackson looked to Taye. “Going somewhere, Sister?”
Seeing Cameron, Taye took quick, light steps and threw herself into her sister’s arms. “How did you get here so quickly? We only sent the telegram yesterday morning.”
Cameron hugged Taye tightly, then drew back to look at her. “We didn’t get your message, but we’ve come for you. Taye, there’s been a reward offered for your return to Jackson, Mississippi, dead or alive.” Taye paled visibly as Cameron continued. “But don’t worry. Jackson has a plan.” She glanced at Falcon, still unsure how she felt about him. But now knowing about Thomas’s illness, she was glad there was someone else in Taye’s life.
“Jackson and Thomas believe they can fix this whole terrible mess, but you have to come back to Jackson. Now.” Cameron glanced at Falcon. “And you need to go into hiding, until this is over. After that—” She looked to Taye again. “I suppose that’s up to the two of you.”
“What Taye speaks is the truth,” Falcon said. “We sent word to you yesterday that she would be returning to Jackson to face her accusers.” He spoke slowly in the odd cadence Cameron almost found appealing after the months of hearing it. “Tell me about this plan.”
Taye clutched Cameron’s arms, tears filling her blue eyes as she met her sister’s gaze again. “No, we can’t talk about me. Not yet.”
Taye suddenly looked as if she were going to dissolve in Cameron’s arms. Cameron took Taye’s hand and led her toward the bed. “Taye, please don’t be upset. I really think Jackson’s plan will—”
“No, please. You have to listen to me.” Tears ran down her lovely cheeks. “I…I need to tell you—” She hung her head. “How sorry I am for what I did. For killing Grant,” she whispered.
Jackson cleared his throat. “Falcon, I’ve need of a cigar, perhaps some refreshment. Shall we go downstairs and leave the ladies with some privacy?”
“Just one minute, puss,” Cameron said gently, giving Taye’s hand a squeeze. She followed Jackson to the door and touched his sleeve. “Thank you,” she whispered, her gaze searching his. “I think with a little time alone she’ll be all right.”
“I just want you to be happy,” Jackson murmured. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
There was something in the sincerity in his voice that brought up a lump in Cameron’s throat, and all at once tears filled her amber eyes.
Jackson pressed a kiss to the top of her head and then followed Falcon out of the room, closing the door behind them.
Cameron returned to the bed and sat down beside her sister. She took Taye’s hand in hers and rubbed it. Despite the warmth of the evening, her skin was cool and clammy. “Do you want some water?”
Taye shook her head. “No. I…I just want to tell you that I’m sorry. It wasn’t out of vengeance for what Grant did to me or Mama.” A sob escaped her lips. “I only pulled the trigger because he would have killed you.”
Her lower lip trembled and Cameron knew that in Taye’s mind’s eyes, she was seeing Grant again, standing on their father’s balcony, waving the pistol. Grant had raved in madness from that veranda. He had accused Taye and Cameron
of ruining his life. He had accused them of stealing their father’s love from him. Then he had pulled the trigger. Grant had missed Cameron by inches and had steadied the gun to fire again. Only then had Taye appeared out of the darkness and pulled the trigger.
“Oh, Taye,” Cameron cried, wrapping her arms around her sister. “Never for a minute have I blamed you. He killed our father. He killed your mama as sure as if he had pulled that trigger, and he would have killed you and then me.” Cameron smiled through her own tears and wiped Taye’s wet cheek with her palm in a sister’s loving caress. “Now I don’t ever want to hear another word of this. I never blamed you. Never.” She fumbled in her sleeve for her scented linen handkerchief and pressed it into Taye’s hand. “Dry your tears. I’m going to run back to our room, but I’ll only be a minute. I want you to hear something.”
Cameron gave her hand one last reassuring squeeze and then hurried from the room. Minutes later, she returned with their father’s diary.
“I told you, that is private,” Taye said, sniffing as she touched the balled-up white lace handkerchief to her puffy red eyes.
“I don’t care. I want you to hear this.” She set down the book. “But first I’m going help you undress and we’re going to climb into this bed. You look like you haven’t slept in nights.”
For once, Taye allowed Cameron to care for her. She stood like a child in the center of the room and let Cameron strip her down until she stood in bare feet, wearing only a thin shift.
Removing her own clothing, Cameron climbed into the lovely antique bed beside her sister and drew the mosquito netting around them. She then turned up the lamplight beside the bed and opened the diary on her lap. “Listen to this….”
Taye lay back on a pillow and folded her hands neatly across her stomach.
“Today Sukey gave birth to a girl,” Cameron read aloud, “and I cannot cease crying like an old, foolish woman. All I can do is hold her in my arms in the tiny slave cabin and touch her perfect toes, her perfect fingers. I always knew that I would have children and that I would love them. I certainly love my Grant and my Cameron. But this baby, this daughter of my flesh, was born out of love. And for this gift, I thank God Almighty. I only hope that she will grow up to experience half of the joy she has given me this night.
“Sukey and I will call her Taye.”
When Cameron looked up from the diary, tears were running down Taye’s cheeks again, but these were tears of happiness.
Cameron set down the diary and blew out the light. She rolled onto her side and wrapped her arm around her sister, the way she had in the days when they were little girls at Elmwood and shared the same bed. “Go to sleep now, puss, and in the morning, everything will look brighter.”
Taye’s eyes drifted shut. “Don’t leave me.”
Cameron kissed Taye’s bare shoulder. “I won’t. I promise. Not tonight, and not when we return to Jackson. You’re going to get through this and then you’re going to live a happy life.” She laid her head on the pillow, closing her eyes. “I just know it.”
32
“I can’t do this,” Taye whispered. Her hands trembled as she slipped them into a pair of buff-colored gloves.
“Of course you can.” Cameron adjusted her sister’s new leghorn straw bonnet. She smoothed the pale blue grosgrain ribbon that perfectly matched the silk beneath her muslin Canezou and skirt. It also matched Taye’s eyes, making her appear all the more lovely, which was exactly what Cameron had been hoping when she picked the ensemble in the first place.
Taye shook her head, worrying her lip. “I’m no actress. They’ll see right through me.”
“So speak as much French as possible.” Cameron held her sister’s flushed cheeks between her palms and gazed into her eyes. “I doubt Captain Grey speaks much French. He’s from New Jersey.”
Two days earlier they had arrived in Meridian, Mississippi, from New Orleans. The train and carriage rides were exhausting, but Jackson had insisted they were necessary to set up the ruse they were about to unfold. No one could know Taye had returned to Mississippi until their plan was set in motion.
Last night, Mr. Gallier had arrived in Meridian and secretly met with Cameron and Jackson. This morning, Taye and Gallier would take the noon train to Jackson. Cameron and Jackson would return home from their trip to New Orleans by hired carriage, approaching from a different direction.
Once Taye and Gallier arrived in Jackson, they’d proceed to The Magnolia Hotel, which was being renovated, thanks to an “unknown” benefactor, where they would be the first guests since the war. Mrs. Pierre had not even blinked when Jackson requested she open her doors prior to her originally planned date. And, thankfully, she had not asked any questions.
“Now you must be certain to behave as if you have never seen the town,” Cameron lectured Taye. “You do not recognize anyone, not even me.”
“I know. I know.” Taye grabbed her sister’s hands. “I know the plan. I pray that someone will see us get off the train and this charade will begin. Mr. Gallier and I know exactly what we’re to say. What we’re to do.”
“Good.”
Cameron tried to pull away, but Taye held fast. “Cameron, listen to me. I want you to know that if this doesn’t work—” Her voice broke and she pressed her rosy lips together. “If this doesn’t work,” she repeated firmly, “I want you to know it’s all right. It’s not your fault.”
Cameron raised Taye’s slender hands and kissed them before pulling away. “Don’t be silly. This will work.”
“Cameron.” Jackson opened the door a crack and called in. “We have to go. We should not have stayed this long.”
Cameron planted a quick kiss on her sister’s cheek. “You do this and you’ll have a career on the New York stage.” She hurried for the door. “See you soon, puss.”
Cameron forced herself to walk slowly out the door, giving the impression of utter confidence in the plan that had been devised. Only her pounding heart indicated otherwise.
Taye smiled sweetly, her arm settled in the crook of Mr. Gallier’s arm as they strolled down the street toward The Magnolia Hotel. As she walked, she tried to think of herself not as Taye Campbell, but as a young woman who lay on the floor of the Atlantic Ocean.
She and Mr. Gallier had arrived on time, had paid enterprising young men money to deliver their trunks to The Magnolia and then had left the train station on foot. Outside the station, Gallier had had to turn down two offers for hired carriages, explaining loudly, for anyone to hear, that he and his niece needed a little fresh air after their long journey. Jackson had stressed the importance of as many people as possible seeing them upon their arrival to town.
“Il fait chaud, oncle,” Taye said, attempting to alter her voice slightly as Cameron had coached earlier in the week.
Mr. Gallier smiled pleasantly and patted her arm. “Il fait plus chaud que Baton Rouge, si c’est possible.”
“Excuse me.” An army officer in a blue coat crossed the street toward them.
Taye’s breath caught in her throat and she had to force herself to remain calm. She was certain that the man was Captain Grey. She had never seen him—she’d been too afraid to peer down the staircase the night he’d come to arrest her—but Jackson and Cameron had described him.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Gallier said, his French Creole accent seeming heavier to Taye than it had been before.
Two young privates followed the captain across the street, three steps behind him.
Grey halted in front of Taye and Gallier. “Are you Taye Campbell?” he demanded.
She drew back as if startled and stared at the army officer. “Non. I am Minette Dubois.” She carefully accented her English words.
“This is ma nièce, my niece.” Gallier’s wide forehead crinkled. “May we help you, sir?” he asked in a self-aggrandizing way.
“You’re not Taye Campbell? Sister to Cameron Campbell?” Grey asked, looking obviously confused.
Taye shook her head pressing
her gloved hand to her ruffled bodice. “Non. I have…hmm.” She looked to Gallier. “How do you say, accompagné—”
“Accompanied,” Gallier offered.
“Accompanied,” Taye repeated like the dutiful student, looking back to Grey, “mon oncle… my uncle on his business to this town.”
The officer studied her for another moment, then glanced back in the direction of the jailhouse, visible from where they stood. The two privates stood back waiting instruction. “Cabot,” the captain barked.
“Sir?”
“Go back to the jailhouse. Bring that woman here.”
“What woman, sir?”
Captain Grey made a sound of derision beneath his breath. “The woman who just walked into the jailhouse a moment ago and asked us why we hadn’t arrested Miss Campbell when she was walking down the main street of town with a man in a black fedora and a dark handlebar mustache. The woman who said this was Taye Campbell.” He motioned.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m sorry.” Grey offered a half smile, but still blocked Taye and Gallier’s way on the street. “My name is Captain Grey of the United States Army. I’ve been posted here in Jackson at the jailhouse. I believe we may have a case of mistaken identity. We’re looking for a woman who matches your description. If you could just wait a moment longer, I’m sure we can clear this up.”
Taye looked to Gallier. It wasn’t hard to appear uncomfortable. She was shaking in her new heeled slippers. “Oncle, je ne comprends pas. Que veulent-ils?”
“English,” the officer said tersely. “I would prefer you spoke English, ma’am, as I do not speak French.”
Taye had to resist a smile. They were hoping Captain Grey would not speak French. “Je pense qu’il marche.”
“Minette, dear,” Gallier said. “The gentleman asks that we speak English and not French.”
“Oui, yes,” Taye said, batting her lashes at Grey. “Of course, sir. I am sorry for my rudeness.”
“My niece has only recently come from France, you see,” Gallier explained as scripted by Jackson the previous night. “She was tutored in English, of course, but did not have as many opportunities to practice as she would have liked before joining my wife and I here in the States, in New Orleans.”
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