With an anguished scream, Julie tugged at the window once more. In desperation, she was about to smash the glass with her bare hands. But he was upon her, dragging her away, throwing her to the floor.
“I’ve lived for this moment,” he panted, ripping at her clothes, slapping her hands away as she tried to fight him. “I want you naked. I want to touch you all over. And you’re going to touch me. You’re going to do anything I tell you to do, because the day you displease me is the day I start cutting your face. Now spread your thighs to me and thrust those luscious breasts forward so my lips can drink their fill. Then I will empty myself into you till you scream for mercy…”
She lashed out hysterically, striking him on the side of his face. Enraged, he struck back with his fist. The blow was hard, stunning. She felt herself slipping away, powerless and helpless beneath him.
Quickly he ripped her dress away. His hands seemed to consume her body, probing, pinching, squeezing, and all the while he was screaming how she was his, how he had waited, and now she would pay for all she had done to him.
She felt the sharp stab as he entered her roughly. Again and again he plunged into her, making her bare buttocks grind against the floor. Bruised and battered, she could do nothing but lie there as he ravished her mercilessly.
When at last he was finished, the pain consumed her, and she drifted away. “I’m not through with you!” he screamed at her from the other side of that black void. “Do you hear me? Do what I taught you to do so well. Make me ready again. You’re going to wish you’d never been born…”
When she did not move, he grabbed her shoulders and began jerking her up and down, her head hitting the floor repeatedly. There was nothing left but emptiness, and she gave thanks that at last her prayer was answered, for she was truly dying.
But her prayer was not heard. Death did not take her away. Her eyes opened to the pale, faint twinges of dawn filtering through the dirty window. Beside her Virgil lay naked, sleeping, his arm across her possessively.
It all came flooding back, and she moved, trying to scramble to her feet and escape, but he was awake instantly, rolling over to pin her beneath him, laughing down at her in lascivious triumph. “Yes, it’s real, my pretty,” he taunted. “You and me, together, for as long as you please me and obey me. Now isn’t this a lovely way to start a new day?”
His hand darted between her legs, and she could not help gagging. The movement startled him momentarily, just long enough for her to react and bring her knee crashing up quickly into his groin. With a scream of agony, he clutched himself and rolled sideways, and she struggled to her feet and started running down the hall.
Cursing, he began to make his way behind her. “If you don’t stop, I’ll make you suffer the agonies of the damned!” he shouted. “I’m warning you, Julie—”
She reached the top step and started down, but in her haste she tripped and tumbled head over heels, finally lying helplessly at the bottom, her body aching painfully as Virgil descended behind her.
Jerking her to her feet, he slapped her once…twice…three times…until her ears were ringing wildly. “Now on your knees, wench!” he commanded. “I’m going to take you like the bitch you are, and when I’m done, I’m going to tie you up and gag you so I won’t have to worry about your sounding an alarm when Myles gets here. I’ll take care of him quickly enough.”
He threw her to her knees as she shrieked angrily, “Myles will kill you for this, you bastard! I wish I’d killed you myself—”
He beat at her backside, yelling for her to be still or he would only hurt her more.
“What in hell…”
Rainbow lights of hope flashed before Julie’s eyes as she looked up to see Myles standing in the doorway. His arms were loaded with packages which went flying in all directions as he sprang forward, eyes blood-red with fury. The snarl of an attacking, crazed beast came from his curled lips.
Virgil was caught off guard, helpless as Myles fell on top of him. Julie rolled to one side, terror wrapping itself about her as she watched her brother’s fingers close around Virgil’s throat, choking the life from the man who had caused her so much anguish and indignity.
It was over. Myles towered over him, his breath coming in painful, rasping wheezes. He stared down, flexing his fingers together as he cried: “I killed a man with my bare hands, but God forgive me, I’d do it again!”
Julie crawled toward him and wrapped her arms about his knees. He lifted her up and held her tightly against him. “It’s going to be all right,” he said, trying to soothe her. “I ran into an old friend in a waterfront bar, someone I could trust. He told me he’d seen Virgil, that he was still about. I got worried he might show up here, so I came back. And thank God I did.”
He kept talking, sensing that his voice was her only link for the moment with reality, for the look of stark terror in her eyes was frightening. He lifted her in his arms and carried her upstairs, found the shreds of her dress, and told her how they would buy her more clothes in town.
Slowly she came out of her stupor. “What…what do we do with his body?” she asked, a wave of nausea passing over her.
“We’ll bury him in the woods. No one will know or care. I doubt he’ll even be missed. Do you feel like helping me? Two of us can get it done quicker, and we can be on our way.”
She didn’t feel like helping, but knew time was important. Myles gave her some of the corn dodgers he’d brought, and she gulped them down quickly. Then together they went into the woods and Myles dug a grave with the pitchfork.
“It isn’t deep, but it will do,” he said finally. “No one will be coming here except Yankees, anyway.”
Returning to the house, the two struggled with Virgil’s body. Myles fastened his hands under his arms, while Julie lifted his feet. They carried him out to the grave and dumped him into it unceremoniously.
“How I wish we had done that long ago,” Myles said when the last clod of dirt was packed down. “We would all have been spared so much misery. Now the worms can have him.” He took her hand to lead her away, and she did not look back.
They had no problem locating the spot where the wagon train was forming when they reached Brunswick. The town was teeming with people almost hysterical in their frenzy to escape the advancing Yankees. And it did not matter to anyone that their coastal town was well to the south of Sherman’s eventual target of Savannah. They knew only that they’d had enough of war, the suffering and anguish. There was one common bond among all: head west, escape, make a new life.
In Brunswick, one day blended into the next, and Julie complained to Myles that she wanted to be on her way.
“We’re waiting for other families to arrive,” he explained. “We’ve a long way to go, and there is safety in numbers. When the time is right, we’ll leave. Just don’t you fret.”
Don’t fret, she reflected caustically. How could she just blot everything out of her mind? She still thought of Derek—for instance, when she stared at the smoldering black-red embers of a campfire, so like his eyes when he was angry. And then the fire’s glow changed to deep warmth, the way he gazed at her with hunger and desire.
She could not escape him in her dreams, when his face would appear to haunt her, the harshly handsome lines that could soften her to fresh-churned butter when he smiled.
What was he doing now? she wondered. Did he ever think about her, dream of what might have been?
If only there had been time to explain, perhaps he would have understood. But he had been too angry, and it was over, forever.
She wondered, too, what would have happened had she accepted his offer so long ago to become his mistress. Perhaps in time he would have found he did love her. But that was foolish. Derek loved no woman.
She tried to busy herself around the camp, which was growing, with more people arriving each day. It amused her when young Teresa Davis began to flirt with Myles. Then she realized he was flirting back, and appeared to be quite taken with the lovely, fair-ha
ired girl.
“I think romance might blossom on our trip west,” she teased him one night when he said he was taking Teresa for a walk. “Who knows? By the time we reach our destination, I may have a sister-in-law.”
“And I’ll probably have a brother-in-law,” he bantered right back. “I’ve seen the way all the eligible men look at you. If you’d warm to them, you’d have them swarming after you.”
A cold wave swept over her instantly, and her reply was sharper than she intended. “I don’t want them swarming. I don’t want any man around me…ever again.”
“Now you’re being silly,” he admonished her. “You’re still hurt and angry by all that’s happened, but you’ve got to make yourself forget, Julie, like I’m doing. Think about tomorrow and stop brooding about yesterday. Sometimes I think you’re only feeling sorry for yourself.”
“Sorry for myself?” she sputtered. “Myles, how can you say such a thing…” and her voice trailed off. She was ashamed as she saw the amused twinkle in his eyes. He was right. She was shrouding herself in self-pity, and it was wrong to do so. She had to open her heart, her eyes, to the new life, the new world.
“Just give me time, Myles,” she murmured. “I need time.”
He hugged her. “You’ll have lots of that. It’s a long journey ahead. All we’re waiting for now is for our wagon master to arrive, and then we’ll be heading out. And none too soon. We just heard that Sherman is on the move again, heading straight for Savannah and leaving a trail of destruction behind him.”
It was but a few days later that Myles excitedly announced, “We’re leaving at dawn. We’ve been told to get the wagons lined up and be ready to move out first thing in the morning. We’re leaving tomorrow, Julie! We’re going to our new home!”
There was much jubilation in the camp that night. The men played their fiddles and banjos and guitars. The women sang, and a few danced. The children played and screamed with delight, and everyone was overcome with the happy knowledge that for them, the war was truly over.
Julie looked about at the men. Some were amputees. There were others without eyes, or with part of their faces gone. She stared at the hollow-eyed women who tried to look happy over the new life they had been promised, their now-fatherless children gathered around them. These were the wives whose husbands would not be coming home, for they were buried in some far-off cemetery or left to rot on a distant battlefield.
They were not running from the war, Julie realized. Not any of them. They only thought they could leave it behind. It would be with each of them forever, a part of their lives they could never deny. And it would be handed down to their children, and their children’s children, and on through the generations and for years and years to come. That was the way it should be, she surmised. No one should ever forget the tragedy of the bloody, cruel war between the states.
They were up before dawn, the skies still blue-black as people began moving about, hitching horses to their wagons, brewing one last pot of coffee, eating one last bowl of gruel before starting the journey. The air was alive with the same thunder-charged emotion of a lightning-streaked rainstorm. Only there was no rain, just smiling faces and shining eyes.
Next the sky turned a pale pink, then a soft rose, and when the first golden sparkle of the sun touched the horizon, people screamed with jubilation. A new day. A new life. They would soon be on their way.
“He’s here!” someone cried. “The wagon master! He’s telling everyone to get ready to move out.”
“Julie, can you believe it?” Myles yelled happily as he leaped up to the wood-plank seat beside her, taking the horses’ reins in his gloved hands. “It’s really happening! We’re on our way!”
She felt happy for him, for everyone else, but could not help wondering if for her, the future would bring any joy.
Then came the sound of thundering hoofbeats, drowning out all other sounds. Someone shouted: “It’s him…the wagon master…he’s coming this way…we’ll be leaving soon…”
Julie folded her hands in her lap and stared down, wishing she could share the happiness that seemed to be igniting all about her. She hoped she would not dim the pleasure for Myles. Bless him, he had suffered terribly also, but he did seem to be coming out of it all, much better than she. But then, he had Teresa, and it was obvious romance was blossoming for them. And she was thankful, for both of them.
Beside her Myles sucked in his breath, gasping, but she was too absorbed in her own reverie of the moment to take notice…till she heard him gasp: “My God! I can’t believe it!”
Only then did she lift her eyes. Then she was gripping the edge of the plank seat, squeezing it and pressing down, as though to do so was to hold on tightly to her sanity.
Derek sat upon a golden Palomino, black eyes shining in the first mists of dawn as he gazed down at her. He held the leather reins loosely as he cocked his head to one side, a slight, mocking smile on his handsome face as he murmured quietly, “So we meet again, misty eyes.”
She could not speak. She could not believe it was real.
“Derek, you old son of a gun!” Myles was standing up, reaching across Julie to shake his hand. “What in hell is going on? How can you be here? I don’t understand—”
Derek continued to smile as he raised his right arm in a signal. Another horse came pounding forward from beyond the wagon in front of them. It was Thomas, laughing as he told them he was their “assistant” wagon master, and he and Myles embraced.
But Julie could only stare into Derek’s smoldering black eyes, a hundred questions bubbling in her heart. She could not speak. Her body began to tremble.
“I told you once,” Derek murmured softly, “that when I had mastered the winds and the tides, I would come for you and conquer your love. That time is now.”
He reached out to lift her in his arms and placed her on the saddle in front of him. Holding her tightly, he spurred his horse forward.
The sun made its final lunge from the horizon to kiss the watermelon sky of a new day and a new life, for all of them.
About the Author
Patricia Hagan might be the New York Times bestselling author of 38 novels and 2500 short stories, but she can also lay claim to being among the vanguard of women writers covering NASCAR stock-car racing. The first woman granted garage passes to major speedways, she has awards in TV commentary, newspaper and magazine articles, and for several years wrote and produced a twice-weekly racing program heard on 42 radio stations in the south.
Patricia’s books have been translated into many languages, and she has made promotional trips to Europe, including England, France, Italy, Norway, Greece, Turkey, Croatia, Spain and Ireland.
Hagan’s exciting eight-book Coltrane saga, which spans from the Civil War to the Russian Revolution, has appeared on every major bestseller list and is one of the most popular series published in France, never having been out-of-print in that country in nearly 30 years.
Born in Atlanta, Georgia, Patricia grew up all across the United States due to her father’s position as a federal attorney, finally settling in Alabama where she graduated from the University of Alabama with a major in English. She now resides with her husband in south Florida where she volunteers as a Court-appointed Guardian Ad Litem for abused children.
But of all her accolades and accomplishments, Patricia most of all loves to boast of being the proud mom of a Navy SEAL.
Look for these titles by Patricia Hagan
Now Available:
The Coltrane Saga
Love and War
The Raging Hearts
Love and Glory
Love and Fury
Love and Splendor
Love and Dreams
Love and Honor
Love and Triumph
Coming Soon:
This Savage Heart
Passion’s Fury
Golden Roses
The incredible final book in the Coltrane Saga journeys to revolution-torn Russia, where love and danger go
hand-in-hand.
Love and Triumph
© 2012 Patricia Hagan
Marilee Coltrane embarks on a long journey from Spain to Russia, determined to reclaim her heritage, both as a Coltrane and an adopted member of the imperial family. However, she finds herself in extreme danger when the centuries-old dynasty of the Czar begins to collapse, and revolutionaries take her prisoner, intending to hold her for ransom.
Unknown to Marilee, handsome, strong-willed Cord Brandt has secretly vowed that no harm will come to the woman he fell in love with on sight. But even after he confesses his true identity as a counterspy, Marilee doesn’t trust him, despite how he turns her blood to fire with just a touch.
In a Russia aflame with chaos and rebellion, Marilee summons the tenacious strength of her Coltrane blood for the will to survive bloodthirsty revolutionaries and the love of a determined man.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Love and Triumph:
When she could trust her rubbery legs to move, Marilee fled back to her room.
She didn’t belong and never had, but she was going to see this wedding through, and then, by God, the Coltranes would not be bothered with her again.
She rolled over onto her back, stared up at the lace canopy, taking deep breaths to try and quell the turmoil within. The more she thought about what she’d just overheard, the more depressed she became.
It bothered her that she had never in her whole life made a decision concerning her own welfare. It had not been necessary. Kitty had pampered her. Then she’d gone off to school, where teachers and counselors made the rules. So here she was, grown, educated, and everyone thought she was so weak and helpless that her only hope for survival was to get married and have a man take care of her and make all the decisions.
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