Emily's Vow

by Betty Bolte

  Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close. His hand wound into her hair hanging free from its pins. The downward tug he gave raised her mouth more firmly against his and allowed him to explore where he had never ventured. Hot moisture formed between her legs, a wave of pleasure consuming her body. Frank's hand traced down her cheek to her throat, easing her lacy shawl down until it clung to the crook of her arms. The evening breeze caressed her heated flesh now exposed to the moonlight and Frank's attentions.

  "You're so lovely, Em," he breathed against her bare shoulder. "I've wanted to do this ever since I met you."

  His grip on her hair tightened, further easing her head back and exposing the sensitive flesh of her throat. Her eyes closed when his tongue tickled her collarbone before gliding across her shoulder and trailing down her upper arm. Her legs shook, and his grip around her waist tightened. Without his strength, she would have fallen under the onslaught of sensations enveloping her.

  "Frank, please," she whispered. What did she ask for? Her thoughts whirled away, uncatchable in the maelstrom battering her senses.

  "Yes, my dear," he breathed, kissing her shoulder, her neck, her chin, and finally her lips. "What do you wish?"

  She moaned when his tongue resumed exploring her mouth. She couldn't think with him kissing her thus, let alone respond, but she must tell him... What was it again? Down his tongue went, twining with hers, then back out to tease the very inside of her lips. Her legs gave out, and he caught her in his arms, gazing at her with intense eyes.

  Part of her longed for him to love her, but when her blood stopped singing in her veins, such a base feeling would pass. The thought calmed the tempest once more and allowed reason to return.

  "Frank, put me down." She pushed at his amazingly strong chest using both hands with little effect. "It's not proper. We can't do this."

  "If we're careful, we can." He surveyed the surroundings as though not recognizing where they stood.

  "You married my sister." Did she say that? Out loud? So be it.

  "I did." He pulled back to look at her. "You were there. What of it?"

  Grasping at wisps of logic, and grateful for the space he'd provided, she took the path of affront to keep some semblance of propriety between them. "Obviously you preferred her to me. I'll not be a consolation prize. Please, stop this sham of caring for me."

  "Sham?" He frowned at her even as his grip loosened.

  The piazza provided some measure of privacy but only because of the height of the three-story home. Sounds would be readily heard on a quiet evening such as this one. "Put me down. I'm serious."

  "As you wish, my lady."

  She noted the strain in his voice and the firm bulge in his pants as he eased her away from him and set her back on her feet, keeping one arm around her until she stayed steady.

  "I-I need to go." She searched his dark eyes for reproach or anger. Any reaction to help bolster her courage to push him away to a safe distance. Intense desire blazed instead, nearly weakening her newly revitalized resolve. She must go before they took this relationship to places she didn't fathom how to handle. Or at least places where her reactions to this man would spin out of control. Backing away, she bolted from the darkened porch into the glow of lamplight from the house. The sound of Frank's voice made her pause momentarily in the door.

  "Sleep well, Em. At least one of us should."

  Nobody would be sleeping this night, apparently.

  * * *

  The next afternoon Emily hurried through the market, quickly searching for the last of the ingredients needed to make a special dinner for her father. And Frank. She planned to return home before anyone noticed her absence, but she simply had to prepare a fitting meal for her protectors. She'd brought Solomon with her, and his presence at the edge of the square eased her guilt at hedging the restrictions placed upon her. Solomon was close enough to stand watch but far enough away that she could breathe. Few people still lingered among the produce and household items. Before long, the vendors would call it a day and pack up their goods and haul them to their homes. Seagulls hopped along, pecking at scraps on the ground. The day had started out dreary, but the sun burned off the morning fog and now warmed the air.

  She paused by the pumpkins, debating on which to select. Urgent to return home before either Frank or her father missed her, she skimmed the array of firm-fleshed gourds. Tommy grew heavier in her grasp the longer she stood still. She'd ventured out with him to give Mary and Jasmine a chance to finish the laundry without him underfoot. She shifted him to the other arm and smiled at his happy grin.

  "You like being outside, too, don't you? It always lifts my spirits. Ow!" She gently removed his tiny hand from grasping a long curl gracing her neck. "That hurt. Let's find a nice pumpkin for the soup, shall we?"

  Making her selection, she paid the vendor while Solomon carried the heavy gourd away. The remaining few items she purchased fit in the basket dangling on her arm.

  "Time to head home, Tommy." She hefted him higher on her hip. While it pleased her to spend time in the sunshine, her father would disapprove. "Let's hurry to catch up to Solomon, shall we?"

  She shied away from thinking of Frank's reaction as she started after Solomon. The chance to provide a delicious meal to the two men she cared for made her little adventure worthwhile though risky. After the way Frank had kissed her, although beyond decency, she could not discount the fact that she cared about him even if it never developed into more than an intimate friendship. But then again, she didn't want him to be more than a friend. Did she? Certainly, her father wouldn't object. She shook her head in annoyance at her own inconsistency toward the man. Why couldn't she make up her mind one way or the other?

  "Who do we have here?"

  The low voice rumbled behind her, sending spikes of dismay through her. Closing her eyes briefly, she faced John as he leered at her. Solomon had reached the far edge of the market square, heading home quickly with his burden as she'd directed. Perhaps that was an error. "Major Bradley."

  Ignoring the fact that she held Tommy, the turncoat stepped closer, a hand gripping her elbow. "I've missed you, Emily. We had some good times together."

  "A long time ago, before—"

  "Before what?" His hand caressed her arm, twining the long curl lying on her shoulder around one finger.

  When Tommy had done the same thing minutes ago, she had not experienced revulsion. She shuddered. Followed swiftly by fear at John's lecherous stare. She shouldn't have come after all. Her father had been right yet again. She put herself and Tommy in danger. What a fool. But she'd protect him now. She straightened her spine, not willing to show this man fear even as it filled her.

  "My father expects me home momentarily. If you'll excuse me." She turned to escape his hot breath on her cheek, but he grabbed her arm, sliding his hand down to hold hers. She stared at the muscular fingers gripping her wrist, pulling her toward him.

  "What's the hurry, my sweet?" He pressed his lips to the palm of her hand.

  A shudder scurried down her back at his presumption. And in a public place. She looked for help, but everyone seemed to have miraculously vanished. Interesting timing. Had he arranged for this encounter? Another kiss replaced the first one, and she glared at the top of the major's head. Tommy's weight multiplied as she tried to hold on to him and her basket on one arm, while the brute captured her free hand.

  "You should not presume so." She tried to joggle Tommy higher on her hip.

  Without warning, Tommy reached out and grabbed the major's disheveled wig as his head lowered to Emily's hand.

  The major yelped in embarrassment as it slid to one side, and he reared his head back like a snake about to strike. John snatched the child from Emily's arms. Crying in protest at the harsh treatment, the infant squirmed in the tight grip of the angry man.

  "Leave him be!" Emily grabbed for Tommy, and John snarled at her.

  "This brat won't ever do that again." He took hold of one of Tommy's
arms and squeezed until Tommy wailed.

  Seeing only a red haze of protective anger, Emily attacked. She swung her basket at him and clawed at his arm, but he shoved her away, tightening his hold on the boy. Grabbing hold of his steely arms, she tried to pry them off her charge. The pain threading through Tommy's cries pierced her soul. Her strength failed to stop the violent man from hurting her nephew. Despite the futility, she continued to pummel him with her fists. Dropping the boy onto the hard-packed sand of the marketplace, he turned on her in a rage.

  "You need to learn manners, my dear." Grabbing hold of both her arms, he hauled her to him before slapping her cheek with his full strength.

  She gasped at the pain blossoming across her face. Blackness threatened to overcome her senses, but she forced herself back to consciousness. Tommy sobbed at her feet. He needed her to protect him from this madman.

  She shook her head to clear the remnants of pain shrouding her mind. Glancing down, she saw Tommy on his back, half-hidden beneath the tables of fresh produce. She must reason with John, make him remember he once cared for her and hope he'd stop this crazy attack. "John, please!"

  Another blow to the cheek and she tasted blood. Tommy's cries grew faint as the world spun around her. Brutal hands caught her before she fell, hurting her more. But the fresh pain brought her back to her senses.

  She inhaled sharply when a fist suddenly aimed at John's head.

  She stumbled when the impact of Frank's apprentice, Sawyer, knocked John's grip loose from her arms. She sat down with a hard thwump on the ground and quickly scrambled to gather up Tommy before the two brawling men crushed him. Across the way, Solomon led several men at a run as they raced toward the skirmish, finally returning to help.

  Tommy was safe. Thank goodness! Frank's apprentice, Sawyer, knocked John unconscious with one blow.

  When Sawyer turned to her, tremors of remorse shook her. "He'll never let you forget that."

  "Miss Emily, you're safe now." The lad lifted Tommy then helped her up. "Let me get you home."

  "Miss Emily, you all right?" Solomon stopped beside her, panting. "That man hurt you?"

  "Take me home." Emily took the boy from Sawyer, refusing to cry in front of the men.

  She remained silent as he and the black man escorted her back to the imposing house, the pumpkin cradled in Solomon's capable arms, fully aware of the extent of the danger she'd put Tommy in. All for the whimsical desire to have pumpkin soup. She'd promised herself to never be selfish again but she'd broken that promise and look at the mess as a result. She would do better in future, knowing now that her father and Frank were right to fear for her safety.

  As they approached the front steps, Frank rose from a chair positioned to take advantage of the sunshine bathing the porch. Emily's heart sank.

  Chapter 14

  "You'll end up having to marry Frank yet, if you're not more careful than that," Amy chided a few days later. She had returned as planned, eager as ever to share in her exploits smuggling the goods through the sentry line.

  Emily shrugged and cut an apple in half, offering half to her cousin. She hadn't told anyone other than Frank, who dragged it from her and Sawyer, about the incident at the market. As far as everyone else was concerned, she had cut her cheek when she tripped in the house. What good would come from sharing what John had done? Obviously she should not venture out alone. She understood that now. Frank forbade her adventures, as he called them. He had reminded her of her promise to abide by her father's and his wishes. She'd been stupid to try to circumvent their rules. Telling others of her stupidity provided no benefit, to her mind.

  Amy took the apple and examined it before smiling at Emily. "I knew you would have problems with him while I was away. That's why I thought Samantha planned to visit you more often."

  Emily bit into the fruit and wiped the resulting juice from her chin. "You needn't worry. I'll be fine. Besides, she's been awfully busy trying to help people."

  And failing? She wondered if other instances of Samantha's failures had escaped her notice. Samantha had come home from Savannah suddenly, without explanation. Perhaps some incident had occurred there as well. Emily shook off her doubts. She wouldn't let Frank's worries impair her friendship.

  "I heard she's been requested by more and more folks over the past few weeks. I hope there isn't an illness spreading."

  "I don't believe so." Emily cut another slice of apple and popped it into her mouth. She needed to change the subject to divert Amy's poking into areas she didn't want to discuss. Sweet juices spurted against her teeth as she chewed. "Have you heard? Major Benjamin is back in town."

  The pinking of Amy's cheeks as she swallowed her bite of fruit made Emily chuckle.

  "So, what does that matter to me?" Amy struggled to appear nonchalant.

  "He asked about you." Emily winked at her cousin as she took another bite.

  "That is neither here nor there." Amy flicked a dismissive wave of her hand. "He is an unfeeling troll and an audacious flirt."

  "A flirt, eh?" Emily tilted her head, contemplating the concept. "I found him more egotistical than flirtatious. I guess we'll find out when he comes for the Allhallows Eve dinner."

  Amy's blush deepened, and her mouth opened like a daylily receiving the morning sunlight. "You didn't?"

  Emily nodded, aware of her cousin's discomfiture. "He said he'd be honored and hoped you'd attend as well."

  Amy put her head in her hands, covering her face completely for a moment before spreading delicate fingers to peek through them. "I suppose it would be rude to flee to the plantation and not face him, wouldn't it?"

  "Cowardly, too." Emily's suspicions regarding her feelings for Benjamin proved well-founded.

  The back door slammed shut, followed by heavy boots on the worn boards. "Emily, where are you?"

  Emily's stomach twisted at the heat in her father's tone. She shot a worried glance at Amy. "In the dining room."

  The thud of his steps grew louder as he stomped down the hallway and into the room. He nodded grimly at Amy before turning his full attention on Emily. "So, you defied my orders and went into town after all? I'll not have it, I tell you."

  "Father, I did—" Emily began, but he silenced her with a glare.

  "Frank told me of your little... what did he call it? Oh yes! Your little adventure. And of your meeting with that major." Anger vibrated his bass voice. Fists on hips, he faced her. "From now on you are expressly forbidden to leave this house. Not even a bloody stroll in the garden! No exceptions whatsoever until this bloody war is over. Is that clear?"

  Emily's mouth dropped open. Surely she'd misheard what her father said. "Excuse me?" She darted a look at Amy, who also sat shocked into silence.

  "I will protect you whether you want me to or not. You're my only daughter now. I will not risk you coming to harm because of my lack of foresight and your lack of discipline. Therefore you're to stay inside until further notice."

  "Uncle, you cannot do this," Amy ventured quietly. "It's unheard of."

  He turned to her with a glare, his face mottled red and purple. "It is necessary, and I'll thank you to mind your own affairs."

  Emily sagged against the table, the forgotten apple lying on the bench beside her where she'd dropped it. He'd finally done it. Made her a prisoner in her own home.

  Her soul recoiled. Not even a walk in the garden until the war ended. Who knew how long that might be? Months? If the treaty wasn't signed, how long then? Tears leaked from her closed eyes. Amy's gaze weighed on her but she did not move. She could not.

  "But Uncle, surely you jest," Amy pressed. "She must at least be able to work in the garden. You'll permit her that at least?"

  "It won't be her, especially after recent events," he replied sharply. He ran a hand down his smooth jaw and glared at the two women. "She will obey me in this. I know of what I speak."

  "Of course, sir, but please be reasonable. She has obligations to this town, the sewing circle and the ladies who
rely on her weaving the cloth for shirts for our men. Surely you'll agree she should continue to support the war effort."

  Emily peered at her father to gauge his response. He frowned at Amy. A sadness settled on her shoulders at his stubborn expression.

  "She's done her part. They'll have to manage from now on without her slaving for them."

  "I'm not their slave." Ire bubbled to the surface and forced itself from her. How dare he suggest such a thing? "I give of my time freely."

  "No more, you don't. Not after what Frank relayed to me." He crossed his arms over his massive chest and considered her. "I cannot bear to lose you, too. You will stay here. Understood?"

  Determination mingled with the underlying fear in his eyes. He'd lost his wife and his daughter, and nearly his grandson. She wiped at the drying trail of tears on her cheeks. She could not be the one to bring more loss, more grief to her father. Despite the difficulty before her—and she could only imagine how to rein in her rebellious nature for the duration—she must be strong for him, as he had been for her throughout her entire life. She had promised to do better and now she must. Sadness darkened her soul, but she would try.

  Slowly, she nodded.

  "Uncle Joshua, I must protest on Emily's behalf. She must go to church for her own spiritual growth. You must see that, don't you?"

  "Church she will attend with the entire family, so permissible. But nothing more."

  Amy stood and wiped her hands on the napkin before pacing to where her uncle stood, feet planted firmly as though bracing for a rolling ship's deck during stormy seas. "What if Frank and I both escort her to the sewing circle? Will that reassure you she will be protected?" Amy searched her uncle's dark expression. "Being confined in this house for months will only break her fine, loving spirit."