The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2

by Patricia Hagan

  Damn, he cursed, slipping into the water. He wished they would hurry up and get that woman out. When he went in to see Kitty, he did not want that infernal shrieking in the background. Giving birth was a joyful experience for a woman, he supposed, no matter what the circumstances, and she would naturally feel a fondness for the person who visited her first and told her about her newborn. He also reasoned that she was going to be extremely grateful to him for saving her life by bringing her here. It was a step toward his goal.

  But there would be no nursing of the infant, he thought with disgust as he lathered his body with the fragrant soap. No, he would not see another man’s child suckling upon the breast of the woman he intended to marry. Besides, the sucking might cause her breasts to sag. He wasn’t too sure about such things, and he wasn’t going to worry about it. He just wasn’t going to allow it. The milk would dry up. A wet nurse would be found. Everything would turn out all right, and it would be his lips that devoured her nipples hungrily, not some illegitimate brat sired by a man who had known what he had yet to know. No, he just wouldn’t have it.

  Hugo returned in time to wrap his master in a thick towel and pat him dry. A devoted servant, he was paid well and was eager to remain in favor. He said that he had given Dulcie the instructions, and she would leave the tray for him to take in to Miss Wright. She was sure a wet nurse could be found. Corey was also relieved to hear that Nancy Stoner had been removed from the mansion—still screaming, half-dressed, her belongings piled messily in the back of the carriage. Thank God, she was on her way to town and out of his life.

  He dressed carefully, wanting to look casual, to create the right atmosphere for his meeting with Kitty. He wore dark trousers and decided on a pale blue muslin shirt, left open at the throat so that the hairs on his chest would show. Let her see that he had a good body. Let her see him as a real man. Splashing just a hint of cologne about his neck, he decided that he gave the appearance of a warm, friendly neighbor seeking only to rescue a damsel in distress.

  “You look real nice, sir,” Hugo commented, not used to seeing his master dressed so informally, even about the house. He always wore silk shirts and frock coats, obviously enjoying his station in life.

  “Yes, I think so,” Corey agreed as he looked at himself. “We must not overwhelm Miss Wright, Hugo. Like all females, she loves the finer things of life. However, if they are flaunted before her, she lets her pride build a wall about her. We must be very subtle.”

  His servant looked confused. “I don’t think I understand, sir. Miss Wright, she going to be here just a little while, till she gets well. So why you talking like you are?”

  Corey whirled around angrily. “And why are you talking as you are, you fool? I spent a great deal of money bringing in tutors to teach you how to talk, so people would know that Corey McRae would not stand for an ignorant nigra to be his manservant. ‘Miss Wright, she’,” he mimicked. “What kind of grammar is that? You know better, Hugo. Don’t let me hear you make such a blunder again.”

  Hugo hung his head. “Yes sir. I’m sorry, sir.” He spoke very clearly, trying not to drawl. He knew Mr. McRae hated the accent he had been unable to lose completely.

  Corey turned back to the mirror, decided to unbutton his shirt one more buttonhole. “As for how long Miss Wright stays, I will let you in on a little secret, Hugo. I hope she remains forever. I would like to marry her. That is why I wanted Mrs. Stoner out of the house. The two do not get along, and Miss Wright would feel uncomfortable in her presence. We want to make her feel secure here. Since her home was burned down, she has nowhere to go. I want you to make sure that all of the servants give her every consideration and courtesy. Is that clear?”

  “Oh, yes sir, yes sir,” he said quickly, bowing in his anxiousness to please. “We’ll all take very good care of her. You can be sure of that. As for Mrs. Stoner, if you will forgive me for saying so, sir, I’m happy she’s gone. That was one woman that just couldn’t be satisfied. She was always complaining about something or yelling at somebody. We are all glad to see her leave. But I think I should tell you, when the carriage was driving off, she turned around and screamed out to tell you that she would get even with you if it was the last thing she ever did. She said you’d pay for hu…hu…” He shook his head, embarrassed. He had studied so hard, wanting to please his master, but there were still words he couldn’t always remember.

  “Humiliate,” Corey laughed scornfully. “That’s the word, Hugo. Mrs. Stoner thinks I have humiliated her by forcing her to leave my home. I’m not worried about her threats. She should be thankful I allowed her to stay here and enjoy my hospitality as long as I did. She served her purpose well while she was about, but I was tiring of her. It’s just as well that circumstances changed. Now I have the woman I really want.”

  “You really think she’ll stay?”

  Corey pursed his lips as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was attractive, rich and powerful. Kitty Wright was beautiful, poor and helpless. The only thing he had to overcome was that infernal stubbornness of hers. Perhaps the baby was the answer. She would have to realize that Travis Coltrane was not coming back, and she was left with a child to raise alone. She was extremely vulnerable. That was very much in his favor. “Yes, Hugo,” he said with a little smile. “I think she will stay.”

  They left the bedroom together, stepping out into the wide hallway that ran down the center of the second floor. Corey slept on the third floor in a special room when he was with a woman, and it remained locked when not in use. The servants had explicit orders that they were not to go into that room, ever, for any reason. He would keep it up himself, he had told them. And, of course, there were whispers and speculation about the “secret” room.

  The polished mahogany floor smelled of lemon oil, and the crystal chandeliers along the way displayed the lavender-and-pink floral wallpaper attractively. There were marble statues along the sides, imported from Italy. Corey found that they impressed guests. He was relieved that no one asked him who the statue was supposed to be or who the sculptor was. Either they already knew or did not want to expose their ignorance by asking. He had no idea, himself.

  “Which room is the baby in?’ Corey whispered as they moved toward the end of the hall and the room where Kitty had been placed.

  Hugo stopped before the door just opposite their guest’s. “In here.” He turned the knob, and walked in to find a Negro woman sitting in a maple rocker by the window. Her dress was open to the waist, and one large breast hung out, her fingertips holding the nipple to the sucking lips of the infant she held in her arms.

  “I’ll take the baby now,” Corey said, turning his eyes away from the scene he found so disgusting.

  Women’s breasts were so lovely, some of them, and he could find a much better use for them than feeding babies. He never liked such a spectacle and knew he could never have endured seeing Kitty’s breasts bared for any lips other than his own.

  “He ain’t through suckin’,” the wet nurse protested.

  “You heard Mr. McRae,” Hugo snapped, and she immediately pulled her nipple back and handed the infant to Hugo. All the servants on the estate knew that, next to Mr. McRae himself, Hugo was the highest authority. He had the power to fire a servant at will or order one punished should he or she choose the lash rather than be discharged.

  The baby smacked its lips a few times, pursing them as though ready to cry. Instead, the eyelids fluttered a few times, then closed in sleep. Hugo breathed a sigh of relief. He knew how much this moment meant to his master, carrying the baby in to Miss Wright for her to see it for the first time. It wouldn’t do for the child to be crying with hunger. He turned to his master and held out the baby.

  Corey looked down, eyes flashing with resentment. Another man had sired this child, a man who had tasted the sweetness he had yet to savor. He would forever have to be on guard to hide the revulsion he felt for the infant.

  “Get the tray from Dulcie,” he said to Hugo as he walked acr
oss the hall. Bring it up in about ten minutes. I’m going to take the baby in to her myself. Open the door for me.”

  Hugo twisted the knob, then turned on his heel and hurried away. Corey stepped inside the room, smiling at the lovely creature lying asleep on the huge, canopied bed. No one had ever used this room before. Perhaps he had subconsciously intended it for Kitty all along. The wallpaper was patterned in white and yellow roses, the furniture was of mellowed pecan, and a soft, pale blue carpet covered the floor. The spread and canopy were a deeper shade of blue, and the curtains that hung upon the doors to the front balcony were designed of the finest imported satin and velvet, the color matching the bed coverings.

  He leaned over to stare at the beautiful creature before whispering, “Kitty…wake up, my dear. Kitty…”

  Her long lashes fluttered, her head moving slightly. He spoke her name again, and this time her eyes opened, frightened, bewildered. She could only stare at him silently as she tried to remember where she was, what had brought her to this place. Then her gaze went to the bundle Corey McRae held in his arms. “My baby,” she cried, holding out her arms. “My baby…oh, dear God, is it all right?”

  “Yes, yes, he’s fine,” Corey chuckled, amused at her delight. He handed the infant to her, and she moved to her side, opening the blanket to examine fingers and toes.

  “It’s a boy.” He forced pride into his voice, proud of the way he was carrying the moment “A fine, healthy boy. The doctors says he probably weighs seven pounds, at least. And all his fingers and toes are there. I counted them.”

  Kitty looked up, bewildered. “You did? You mean you were here when he was born?”

  “Well, not in the room,” he laughed. “But I brought you here and summoned a doctor, and when the baby was born I was right outside the door, pacing the floor. As soon as he was cleaned up, they handed him to me, and I had to check him over and be sure myself that he was all right. He’s perfect, Kitty, just perfect, and quite beautiful.”

  He was surprised he hadn’t choked on his own lies. He had waited out the birth downstairs in his parlor, sipping brandy and hoping the baby died. He hadn’t laid eyes on him till a few moments before. For all he knew, it had six toes on each foot. But Kitty was looking at him appreciatively.

  “My son,” she breathed in wonder, kissing the baby’s forehead. “Oh, I can’t believe it, Corey. I can’t believe he’s really here in my arms.”

  “Well, he is.” He pulled up a chair and sat down to cross his legs and watch the happy new mother fondling her newborn son.

  “Do you suppose he’s hungry? He keeps smacking his lips. I suppose I should try to nurse him…”

  “Oh, no.” He spoke too quickly. Her head jerked up to look at him quizzically. He cleared his throat self-consciously. “The doctor says you are much too weak, Kitty. You had a hard time delivering. He does not think you should try to nurse the baby, that it wouldn’t be good for you or him. I have already found a wet nurse.”

  She protested, “But I want to nurse him myself. I’m his mother.”

  “Don’t you want to do what is best for him? And what about yourself? Don’t you want to recuperate quickly so you can care for him?”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she sighed. “But it is disappointing.”

  She closed her eyes, and the horror of the night before came flooding back. Gideon shot. Her home and barn burned, the livestock and chickens slaughtered. Why? A tear slipped down her cheek, and Corey saw and reached to brush it away.

  “I know you’re remembering what happened, Kitty,” he whispered, “but you have to try and forget. It’s over now. I only wish I could have gotten there sooner. Jacob came here. He knew it was closer than riding into town. I got there as fast as I could get my men together. I was afraid something like that would happen because I heard that Gabriel was slipping in to see his mother.”

  “Nolie!” Kitty’s eyes flashed open. “What about Nolie?” She looked at him beseechingly, saw the truth in his face, and then shook her head from side to side as the tears came.

  “I’m sorry. She died there on the spot. I had her brought back here, and the doctor checked her and said she probably died of a heart attack. It was a terrible thing for her to witness seeing her son gunned down. Jacob took it pretty hard. I’ve housed him in one of the servants’ cabins, and he’s resting. I have instructed Dulcie to take care of the funeral. She’s holding up quite well.”

  “Why?” Kitty whispered bitterly. “Why did any of it have to happen? And why did they burn me out? Now I have nothing…nothing at all. Oh, if only Travis would hurry and come back. I have to find him, somehow, if I have to go to General Sherman myself. Travis should know he has a son…”

  Corey gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain silent. He reached over and patted her shoulder and said, “Kitty, everything is going to be all right. I will look after you and the baby. Don’t worry. Just concentrate on getting your strength back because your son needs you. I won’t let you suffer anymore.”

  Her violet eyes flashed. “Why should you feel an obligation to help me, Corey? I have always detested you and you know it. You took my workers away from me behind my back, sending your man over to lure them away until I had no one left but Jacob and Nolie. You were trying to break me. So why do you pretend to want to help me now?”

  He leaned forward, hoping his expression looked sincere. “I regret that we started off our relationship the way we did, Kitty. I was wrong. I admit it. When I saw what those…those animals did, destroying what you had worked so hard to build, something just snapped. I wanted your land and was willing to do anything to get it, and now I wish I had just left you alone. If I hadn’t hired away your help, maybe those men would have thought twice before riding in the way they did. You would have had some protection. I am truly sorry, and I hope you will forgive me. I hope you will let me make it up to you, Kitty, by helping you and your son.”

  He forced himself to reach out and touch the downy fuzz on the baby’s head, a move he hoped looked tender and adoring. “I guess I feel as though the little tyke is partly mine now, since I helped bring him into the world. If we hadn’t gone back there and found you, you would probably have both died. So, since I helped get him here, it is only fitting and proper that I help provide for him until his real father comes back.” He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “That is, if you will let me, Kitty.”

  “Of…of course,” she stammered. “I’m very grateful to you, Corey. We would have died out there in the cold. But s soon as I’m able, I will be on my way.”

  “On your way? Where will you go? You’re burned out, my dear. You have no roof over your head. No, you must stay here for a while at least. There is no other way.”

  She was confused, her body sore and weak. There had to be another way. She could not live here in the house with Corey McRae. Travis would not like it. It took all the strength she could muster to make her tone sound fierce and determined. “I appreciate your kind offer, Corey, but as soon as I’m able, I’ll find a way to take care of my son by myself.”

  He suppressed a smile. He saw the way her chin stubbornly jutted upward. The girl had spirit, and how he was going to enjoy it in his bed. “Whatever you wish, Kitty,” he murmured. “But please remember this is your home for as long as you desire.”

  Hugo’s soft rap upon the door could not have come at a better time. Corey told him to enter, which he did, carrying a tray of food, with Dulcie behind him. Reluctantly, Kitty handed over the baby. She told the Negro girl that she was sorry about her mother.

  Dulcie blinked back the tears. “Yes’m, I knows you did a lot fo’ her. She’s at rest now. Gone to join the angels with Gideon. He weren’t all bad, no matter what folks thought.”

  “Take care of my son.” Kitty patted the precious bundle one more time. “I’m going to name him John Travis Wright—John after his grandfather, and Travis for his father, and he’ll bear my family name until his father returns to give him his rightful name.”
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  “Oh, yo’ daddy would like that, Miss Kitty. Pity he ain’t here to see his grandson. He’d of loved him just like you do. And when his daddy come home, he gonna be so proud—”

  “Hugo, set the tray up for Miss Wright,” Corey interrupted, unable to listen to the conversation any longer. “She needs to start getting her strength back.”

  “Yes, I have more responsibility than ever now,” she said, removing the cover of the tray to look down at the hot buttered grits and the slab of juicy fried ham. There were lard biscuits and homemade apple jelly, and a glass of milk. Her stomach rumbled. It had been quite a while since she’d had fare such as this. She looked at Corey appreciatively. “I do thank you. I want you to know that. And I won’t burden you any longer than necessary.”

  “My dear, you will never be a burden.” He got to his feet, motioning to Dulcie and Hugo to take their leave. “If you want anything, anything at all, you have only to ask. My servants are at your command. My home is your home.”

  He was almost to the door when she called out to him, almost reluctantly. He turned to meet the violet eyes. “Corey, what about Nancy? How does she feel about me being here? It’s none of my business, of course.” Her voice trailed off.

  “My dear, Nancy no longer remains in this house. You need not to be worried about her ever again. I don’t intend to concern myself with her, so neither should you.”

  He went out and closed the door behind him. Kitty ate ravenously, then lay back upon the pillows and stared up at the blue canopy over her head. She had never thought she would see the day she would be in Corey McRae’s house, but then she had not counted on being burned out of her own. She knew Jerome Danton was responsible, but how could she prove it? Who would believe her, despised as she was in this county?

  “Oh, Travis, where are you?” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. If only he would return. Together, they would rebuild, and Danton and his hooded cowards would not dare ride against them. Travis would stand up to him or anyone else who tried to intimidate them. And when he did return, he would take vengeance on all who had hurt her.