“You like danger, Major.” She spoke it as fact, not a question.
“Sometimes. Sometimes for the fun of it, other times because it is necessary.”
“Into which category does tonight fall?”
“Both. I wouldn’t intentionally expose you to danger, but I wanted us to have some privacy. Do you approve?”
“Yes, I think I do.”
He dismounted and held out his hands. He gently grasped her by the waist, then slowly, very slowly, brought her to the ground. She drew in a shaky breath as the heat of their bodies mingled. Attempting to draw a steady breath became even more difficult as he traced his finger across her cheek.
“Come,” he whispeed.
Sable placed her hand in his, and feeling recklessness return, let him usher her inside.
He guided her on a torchlit journey through the debris-strewn house and up an iron staircase to the second floor. One of the inner rooms was ablaze with additional torches. The wavering light illuminated a central table covered with a beautiful white cloth. Sable stared amazed at the gleaming crystal and the shining porcelain plates. Sparkling silver serving dishes lay covered and waiting. Sable didn’t know what to say. For the past week she’d waded in blood and watched men die. Before coming to the camp, she’d had to work from sunup to sundown just to survive. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d experienced beauty of any kind.
“It’s lovely,” she whispered.
He raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed the tips of her fingers. “You deserve a bit of beauty in your life.”
Tucking her hand back into his own, he guided her to the table and politely helped her with her seat while cautioning, “One leg of the chair is shorter than the other, so be careful.”
Sable sat gingerly until she was certain the chair would support her weight. He sat opposite her on a chair with no back.
“Who do I have to thank for this lovely table besides you?”
“Our precious cook, and the ever resourceful Renaud.”
“Please do thank them for me.”
“I will.”
Raimond looked across the table at his companion and wished he were home in Louisiana so he could entertain her royally. Broken chairs and a room with no roof were far below his usual standard. Were they back home, she would be draped in a beautiful gown, her skin perfumed, her neck adorned with jewels. They would leisurely sample the most succulent dishes his cook had to offer, and he would feed them to her one by one. He—
“You’re staring again, Major.”
He shook himself. “It’s begun to be habit, I’m thinking. My apologies.”
“None needed. It doesn’t really bother me. It’s simply hard to know what you’re thinking, and I wonder if I have said or done something to offend you.”
“Never. It’s my own preoccupation with you.”
“More flattery?”
“More truth.”
“Truth or not, it’s good to hear.”
“Shall we dine?”
“As long as there’s no skillygalee or lobcourse beneath the covers.”
Skillygalee was a Union specialty made from hardtack soaked in water and fried in pork grease. In the mornings the crackling scent of it filled the camp’s air.
Raimond smiled. “It’s a wonder our soldiers have the strength to fight at all, considering what they’re forced to eat. No, there’ll be no skillygalee or lobcourse tonight.”
“Bless you.”
Under the covered dishes were savory potatoes and a sweet, well-prepared fish. Accompanying them were more of the wonderful biscuits and slices of pound cake.
To Sable, who’d been subjected to the camp’s spare diet, all the offerings tasted heavenly. “Is it wrong to wish to eat this well all the time?”
“When the war ends I will treat you to the most fabulous meals you can imagine.”
“With or without desecrated vegetables?”
He grinned. “Without, certainly.”
“Then I shall hold you to that promise too, even if it takes me a decade to find you again.”
“It shouldn’t be that hard. Especially if you will agree to what I have planned.”
“Which is?”
“To send you home to my mother in Louisiana until the Rebs surrender.”
Sable struggled to hide her consternation. “Why?”
“So you will be safe.”
She looked around the torchlit room. “Do you come here often?”
“Only occasionally. This is where I retreat when I need a respite from the camp. You aren’t going to answer me?”
“The house must have been lovely at one time.”
“I’m sure it was. The iron staircase reminds me of my mother’s house. Sable?”
“Do you think the South will ever be restored?”
“You can’t put off answering forever.”
She supposed he was right, so she looked across the candles and into his waiting eyes and replied, “Major, I am flattered by your offer, but no.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t impose on your mother that way. Whatever would she think of me, arriving on her doorstep like a foundling?”
“She would welcome you and care for you until my return.”
“And then?”
“I will set you up in rooms so that I may visit you whenever I wish. We’d have to agree that you would see me exclusively.”
“Uh huh.” She studied him before asking with amusement, “You simply assume I would say yes to being your mistress?”
“Why, of course.”
She shook her head. “Major, Major, Major. Having so many women at your disposal for so many years has definitely been unhealthy for you. I have no desire to be your mistress or anyone else’s.”
“Why not?”
Sable pretended to think deeply. “Well, let’s see. I’ve been a slave for thirty years, subject to the whims of whoever owned me. Why in heaven would I trade my newly found freedom for a different kind of enslavement?”
Her reply seemed to surprise him. “I never viewed it that way,” Raimond confessed grudgingly.
“I know. The females in your life must spoil you terribly.”
He chuckled as he drained his cup. “You’re a hard woman, my queen.”
“And you are a very tempting man, Sir Knight. Too tempting, I think.”
He lowered his cup and offered sincerely, “Good, then maybe there is hope for me yet.”
The air surrounding them seemed to have warmed. She found her attention settling on his full lips. The memory of the kisses they’d shared reawakened her senses. “I do enjoy your kisses though.”
“Do you?” he asked in a voice as soft as the star-studded night.
“Yes, I do.”
“Then come here. Let’s see if you like this one…”
The invitation touched her like heat. Her heart began a quick cadence as she set aside her silverware and napkin. She stood on trembling legs and took the few steps necessary to place her at his side. She only wished she could stop shaking.
Still seated, Raimond reached out and lightly traced her mouth, filling her with a sweet need. The first kiss was soft, gentle. His warm, knowing lips seemed to be learning her all over again, exploring her, tempting her to join him in a kiss that promised more. Tiny licks of his tongue sparked against the corners of her mouth, and her lips parted like African blooms.
“I enjoy your kisses too…” he breathed. Placing a possessive hand at the small of her back, he brought her closer, deepening the kiss. He held her like a lover, his manhood pulsing in response to her passionate sweetness. Her mouth, as potent as Spanish wine, wove a spell that bound them together. Virgin or not, she must be his here, now.
He eased her down into his lap, his mouth continuing to seek, moving to the shell of her ear and to the curling hair at her temple. His hand began to trace circles over her back, and he felt her trembling response against his palm. “I would never enslave you, bijou. Neve
r.”
Sable knew the whispered French word bijou meant “jewel.” And that was how she felt seated atop his thighs, like a finely treasured jewel. She guessed he employed this potent mix of words and kisses all the time, and she now understood why females adored him so. The idea that she was probably only one of hundreds of women he’d had just this way cooled some of her ardor and made her slowly break the kiss so she could catch her breath.
Raimond assumed he had overwhelmed her, so he contented himself with tracing the skin over her jaw while waiting for her to gather herself. He’d thought he would be content with just touching her, but now knew it would not be enough. Fueled by the need for her, he pressed fleeting kisses against her jaw, brow, and temple, silently pleasuring her in this leisurely way.
“I can’t think clearly,” she confessed in a hush.
“It is only fair, bien-aimé. I’ve been unable to think clearly since the day we met…”
He slowly recaptured her lips; this kiss pulsed with power. Lacking defenses against him, Sable willingly surrendered once again.
When he finally drew away, she swore the room was spinning. Her nostrils were flared, her lips parted, and he was smiling down at her like the proverbial satisfied tiger.
Looking up into his handsome face, she confessed without shame, “I see why the women throw themselves in your path.”
He responded with a chuckle. “Finally you give me the proper respect. I should kiss you more often.”
In fact, he did just that, making the room spin even more, then eased his lips slowly and reluctantly from hers. “Now you can go finish your cake.”
A bedazzled Sable returned to her seat and ate her pound cake under the close scrutiny of his glowing tiger’s eyes. Every time their gazes locked, her newly awakened passion pulsed unashamedly. Being here with him made her think about Bridget and all the wild and scandalous talks they’d had about men and how to be a sorceress of unimaginable delights. She could tell by his kisses that LeVeq was a man of experience. He could undoubtedly teach her much about the passion that Bridget called a necessary element in the lives of men and women—were Sable of a mind to be taught. She thought she might be. She doubted she would ever find a man to court her as heatedly as the major, regardless of his intentions, and she knew without being told that a woman’s memories of a passionate encounter with a man like him would last a lifetime. After she’d faced the harsh realities of survival these past few years, a part of her welcomed such a memory.
She finished the dessert, left him at the table, and walked over to the edge of the room. The outer wall stood no longer, enabling her to look out over the black surroundings. She decided she needed to tell him the story of Mahti’s death before the evening advanced any further. He’d expressed an interest in hearing the story behind Morse’s charges, and now seemed as good a time as any. Looking back over her shoulder at him still seated at the table, she asked, “Will you come sit with me? I’ve a story to tell.”
He nodded and moved to her side.
She sat down and let her legs dangle over the floor’s edge. He followed suit, pleased that she apparently had no fear of her precarious perch.
“It began a long time ago…”
She told him the story of the Old Queen and the circumstances surrounding her death. Next came the tale of her mother, Azelia, and her tragic ending. Sable then chronicled her own story, telling him how she’d been slated to be sold and of Mahti’s demise. “She walked into the fire and never looked back…”
“Carson Fontaine was the only person still in the house?”
“Yes.”
Pain and grief rose within Sable as fresh as if Mahti’s death had happened yesterday. She wondered if the ache would ever heal. “Morse has wanted to own me for a long time. I was about fourteen summers when he first tried to buy me. Back then he was the son of a dirt-poor hog farmer, and Carson Fontaine laughed at the offer. But Henry Morse has grown very wealthy scavenging off the war, and the respectable families now invite him into their homes. He cornered me in the kitchen at Sally Ann’s last New Year’s party in ’62 when he was so drunk, he could hardly stand. He kept spouting foul and crude suggestions about how I might help him usher in the new year and then he attempted to show me how. If Otis the houseman hadn’t happened in and threatened him with a buggy whip, I believe he would have done me harm.”
Raimond wanted Morse dead, on the spot, but kept his thoughts to himself.
“You loved Mahti very much, it seems.”
“Yes, I did. Even though Carson took me into the house, Mahti raised me. She even named me, she said. Named me Sable, hoping my skin would darken up.”
Raimond smiled.
Sable smiled too. “Of course it didn’t. Now, with Rhine gone, I’ve no one left.”
The night breeze teased the candles, making them flicker.
“Have you accepted your brother’s decision?”
“I’m handling it a bit better now than I did initially. I finally realized that there isn’t anything I can do. I’ll always wonder about him and I’ll always love him, but he’s chosen his path.”
Raimond heard the sadness in her tone. As always, he wanted to give her comfort.
She added softly, “I learned this morning that Avery and his family are leaving also. They’re being sponsored by a church in Rhode Island. I’d hoped to know them longer.”
“People will always ebb and flow through your life.”
“I know, but life seemed so much more settled before the war. Folks had friends, acquaintances—now nothing seems permanent anymore. I keep telling myself it’s a good thing, slavery is dying after all, but I must admit, I don’t know if I can bear to lose someone else I care about.”
He draped his arm across her shoulders and coaxed her closer. Smiling at his understanding, she placed her head on his comforting chest and savored being held. “Being with the men at the hospital gives me other things to think about besides my own misery. I can’t very well feel sorry for myself after witnessing their sufferings. My broken heart seems such a small thing in comparison to men who’ll have to live out their lives with one leg or no arms.”
Talking about the men sent her thoughts back to this morning’s altercation. “Major Borden was not real pleased with you today.”
“Good, because I’m not real pleased with him either.”
“Why in the world would he be assigned to Black troops?”
“Because his past record makes him unfit to command anywhere else.”
She drew back. “What do you mean?”
“He’s fouled up every White command he’s ever been involved in, according to the reports Andre received. There are also whispers that he embezzled unit funds.”
“Then why hasn’t he been discharged?”
“Because his father is a very influential politician in Washington. Rather than send him home in disgrace, and embarrass his powerful family, army command reassigned him to the United States Colored Troops. They seem to feel he can’t foul up an assignment that only involves rebuilding railroads.”
“He has little respect for the race.”
“You’re being far too kind, Sable. The man’s as bigoted as a Reb. Mrs. Tubman told me about the disrespectful way he spoke to her.”
“He was very rude, but you set him right.” She looked up into his eyes and added seriously, “We made an enemy today. I could see it in his face.”
“I agree.”
“Do you believe he will make trouble?”
“I’d be very surprised if he didn’t. That’s another reason why I want to send you to my mother. If you aren’t here, you won’t have to worry about him.”
She placed her hand against his bearded cheek. “Once again, the answer is no. But thank you.”
“You’re very stubborn, Your Majesty.”
“Most queens are.”
He turned her palm to his lips and pressed a soft kiss there. “I won’t bring the subject up again.”
�
�Bless you.”
The stars were now out in full force. Sable looked up at them overhead and said, “If I were your mistress, do you know the very first thing I’d want you to teach me?”
Raimond could not believe she’d asked such a question. “What?”
“The names of all the stars and how to be guided by them when I’m sailing the world.”
“Oh.”
She looked his way. “Is something wrong?”
He started to lie, then decided not to. “Not really. I just assumed you meant something different.”
“Something a bit more carnal, I’m guessing?”
He chuckled.
“Men,” she declared sagely. “What is your ship named?”
“Are you sure there’s not something else you need my tutoring in?”
“No, you handsome devil. What’s the name of your ship?”
He leaned over and kissed her soundly. In the hazy aftermath, Sable heard him whisper the name Andromeda.
Somehow she managed to ask, “After the constellation?”
“Yes, and because Andromeda was an Ethiopian princess.”
Sable straightened. “Really?”
“Really. She and Perseus became lovers after he rescued her. She bore his children, but I don’t believe he ever married her.”
“I’ve read that myth many times. I never knew she was an African.”
“The name Andromeda means captive princess.”
“I’m impressed by your knowledge, Sir Knight.”
“And here you thought I knew only about women.”
“I never said that. But it is apparent that you are very learned in that area.”
“No one has ever complained.”
“And I will not be the first,” she tossed back saucily.
“I could kiss you until dawn and still not be satisfied.”
Sable blinked at his blunt speech, even as the heat of his words made her senses simmer. “And I’m of a mind to let you have your way.”
“You banter well for such an innocent,” he whispered, tracing her beautiful full mouth with a long dark finger.
“Blame it on Bridget,” Sable replied, trembling under the intensity in his gaze. “She’s taken it upon herself to lecture me on all I’ll need to know to be a real woman…”
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