Scarlet Leaves

by Sonya Birmingham

  He was hers, hers forever, she thought, a tear of joy sliding down her cheek.

  Chapter Seven

  Three days later Taggart and Silky paused on a ridge overlooking a snowy mountain valley. ''Well, there she isthere's Charlottesville," Silky exclaimed, shifting in the saddle as she pointed at the clustered buildings that, from their elevated position, looked like children's building blocks placed in a Christmas setting.

  With a feeling of deep relief, Taggart surveyed the town, whose church spires glinted in the setting sun. After boarding up Jake's cabin, he and Silky had ridden on to spend a night at Snyder's Tavern. A night camped on the trail in another half-faced camp and a day of riding had put them here. The weather had been unpredictable, the snow periodically whiffing down in fits and flurries, but Silky kept them on the right track. They'd made it to civilization in time for him to send his message to the Union with one day to spare, and he owed it all to her, he thought with warm admiration.

  "Look," she remarked, the edge of her poncho fluttering in the icy wind. "I see rising smoke, and smoke means fire, something that's been pretty scarce for the last few days."

  "I agree, Fancy Pants. We never did get that deer. What would you say to the biggest steak in Charlottesville, eaten in the finest hotel?"

  He watched a slow grin spread over her surprised face. "I'd say, throw it on the fire."

  Taggart snapped his reins. "Let's go, then."

  The hill was steep and pocked with boulders and brush, but they negotiated their mounts down to the bottom, churning up flying snow behind them. At the foot of the slope, they raced across a field of white, then turned onto the thoroughfare leading into the town that, due to the efforts of Colonel John Singleton Mosby and his Partisan Rangers, was still in Confederate hands. The stinging wind at their faces, they hurried toward their first taste of civilization, thinking of a soft bed and a steaming bath to go along with the sizzling steaks.

  While Charlottesville itself boasted many brick structures, its outlying buildings were ramshackle and flimsy, consisting of log cabins and shacks, some abandoned and others collapsing of decay. But it was here they were greeted with the first sounds of life: ringing hammers, barking dogs, and creaking carriage wheels.

  Once in the town proper, they passed through nice residential districts, drawing the stares of homeward-bound businessmen, who eyed their heavily packed mounts and mountain garb. Taggart studied the feisty girl who'd guided him through some of the roughest country he'd ever seen and had done it with a smile on her face. Now sitting proudly astride her mount, her hair up under one of Jake's caps and a poncho concealing her feminine curves, she looked like a slim boythe antithesis of what she was, he thought, his loins stirring at the memory of their blazing night of love in the trapper's cabin.

  Even now his mind wrestled with what had happened and he realized the lovemaking had touched him more deeply than any encounter he'd ever had. Part of him rejoiced that they'd made love, while another part knew it had been a mistake, a mistake he'd failed to prevent. Whether she knew it or not, their lives were going in completely opposite directions. For now, he thought philosophically, all he could do was live his life one day at a time while he tried to sort out his tangled emotions.

  In the heart of town, lights shone from a melange of businesses, so one might pass a fancy dress shop and a livery, jowl to jowl. A more consistent pattern of building emerged where the businesses were larger, but even the brick courthouse on the square and the false-fronted hotels had a raw atmosphere of newness, as if their planners had built them in haste.

  At the Excelsior Hotel, a three-story establishment with brass lamps flanking the wide front doors, the pair dismounted and threw their saddlebags over their arms. Taggart, intending to walk to the livery stable later, pitched a gold coin to a waiting boy and asked him to take their mounts on ahead. When they entered the hotel, there was soft carpeting underfoot, and a wonderful warmth rushed over them, mingled with the sounds of clicking silverware and muffled conversation that drifted from the adjoining dining room.

  "Lordamercy, I've never been in such a fine place," Silky marveled, casting her gaze at the red-striped settees and velvet draperies.

  The clerk, a middle-aged man with an amiable face, glanced at Taggart, then opened his registration book and shoved it across the counter. "Yes, sir. How can I help you and your son?"

  Taggart laughed to himself and, not taking the time to correct the mistake, scribbled his name in the book. "My son and I need a room for the night. Your best."

  "Yes, sir," the man replied in a nervous tone, "but our best is the bridal suite, and I'm afraid it's quite expensive."

  Taggart pulled a wad of Confederate notes from his saddlebag and slapped them on the counter. "That won't be a problem."

  The man picked up the currency, his eyes widening in surprise. "Y-Yes, very well, sir," he stammered, fanning out the big bills.

  While the clerk made change, Taggart scanned the diners, some of whom were craning their necks to get a better look at Silky and himself. "Have dinner sent to our room," he ordered. "Two of your finest steaks with all the trimmings." He started to walk away, then paused and looked back at the bewildered man. "Send up a bottle of wine, too."

  The clerk came from behind the counter and handed him a large brass key on which the number 14 was inscribed. "Wine? I'm not sure we have any, but I'll check. The suite is on the third floor," he mumbled, nodding, at the carpeted stairs. "The first room to your right."

  A thrill of anticipation ran through Silky as they went up the stairs. When she and Daniel had visited Charlottesville to sell furs they'd stayed in a run-down boardinghouse on the edge of town. Never had she been in such a fine establishment.

  As they entered the spacious room, she placed her burdens aside, delighted with what she saw. Furnished with an old-fashioned curtained bed flanked with marble-topped tables, the slightly chilly suite also boasted overstuffed chairs and a large wardrobe. When she lit the china lamps, light spilled over the chamber, revealing a symphony of delicate color. Rose chintz curtained the windows while a like-colored sofa and mahogany tea table stood in front of the fireplace, whose mantel was decorated with china bric-a-brac.

  With a cry of joy, Silky tossed off her poncho, spread out her arms, and sank onto the bed, testing its softness. "Why, it's like resting on a cloud!" she exclaimed, running her hands over the slippery taffeta counterpane. Excitedly, she rose to inspect the dressing room, and discovered a vanity and chair, a cheval glass, and, on a bureau, a basin with scented soap and soft damask towels. She glanced at Taggart, who was lighting kindling he had placed over the neatly laid logs. "This place is as pretty as sunup," she murmured like a pleased child.

  She was lightly tracing her fingertips over the bureau, when on the wall above it she saw a painting of a centaur chasing a maiden though the spring woods. She'd never even heard of the mythical creature, but the lascivious gleam in his eyes told her all she needed to know. She motioned at Taggart, and, amusement lighting his expression, he strode to her. "Take a look at this horse-critter," she breathed, pointing at the picture. "What kind of place are we staying in, anyway?"

  "Don't forget," he reminded her, laying a hand on her shoulder, "we are sleeping in the honeymoon suite, I imagine the painting is for inspiration."

  "Inspiration? Looking at something like that could warp a person for the rest of their natural life."

  Ignoring his laughter, she was off again, inspecting the rest of the bedroom. When she spied a chamber pot peeking from beneath the hem of the counterpane, she gingerly pulled out the receptacle, finding it decorated with a cherub wreathed in roses.

  "Lordamercy, look at this thing with the fat baby on it. Is it supposed to be a chamber pot? It's too nice to use. I'm surprised someone hasn't planted flowers in it." She turned it over and found an inscription on the bottom reading Made in France. "Imagine that," she whispered, so awed she could scarcely speak. She sank to the bed and gazed at Taggart a
s he removed his jacket, his face breaking into a smile. "This must be the finest room in all of Virginny. Why this place is so fancy, they send all the way to France just for their chamber pots!"

  She'd just finished washing her face and hands and combing her hair, when a waiter knocked on the door, carrying a tray that held their dinner and a chilled bottle of wine. Taggatt received the food at the threshold, then carried it to the tea table so they could eat in front of the cozy fire that had already warmed the room up nicely. Silky thought the savory steaks, buttery potatoes, and tender vegetables would almost melt in her mouth, and when she took her first bite of jelly roll, she leaned against the sofa with a sigh, saying, "Why, that's the best thing I ever ate."

  "What do you think of the wine?" Taggart asked with dancing eyes, as he refilled her glass.

  She took another taste of the light wine, comparing it to the applejack she distilled herself, and the moonshine she was so well acquainted with. "Not bad," she replied, not wanting to hurt his feelings. "It kind of reminds me of sour plum juice." Noticing the beginning of another smile on his lips, she decided she should really let him know her true feelings. "But if you paid two whole dollars for this bottle like you said, you got skinned good. Uncle Newby back in Bear Wallow makes a 'shine that's so powerful it'll take the hair off a cat, and he only charges a dollar for a half-gallon jug."

  After they'd finished eating, Taggart announced he was going to the livery stable, and a few moments later bundled up and left. When the waiter came to get the dishes, he gaped at Silky's long hair and curvaceous body, and she smiled to herself, knowing he'd tell the clerk that during the course of dinner, Mr. Taggart's son had turned into a woman. Warm and satisfied, and slightly mellow from the wine, Silky ordered a hot bath, thinking that city life was certainly fine. After a tin bathtub and five tall cans of hot water had been brought to the room, she told the boy to put it on the bill, as she'd heard Taggart say when the food had arrived.

  Once she was alone, she stripped off her clothing, pinned up her hair, and looked at herself in the tall cheval glass. It was the first time she'd ever seen all of her body, and she marveled at the wonderful looking glass that was so big it could reflect a person from head to toe all at once. A blush rode her cheeks as she considered her face and figure, wondering if she was as pretty as the city women Taggart had known before her, and for a moment a poignant sadness seeped through the wine's glow.

  Surrendering her virginity to him had been a reckless thing to do, she thought, a little frightened at the step she'd taken, but even now she couldn't gainsay her decision, for she knew she loved him with all her heart. Never had she wanted anything more than to have him make love to her, and to deny that fact would be like denying the very life God had put in her body.

  She dreaded tomorrow, for he'd already told her he would get his new assignment and be ordered to another part of the South, or even back to the North. She'd felt strangely timid about bringing up the subject of being handfasted, for she didn't want him to feel trapped. No doubt before he left, he'd broach the matter of their future himselfthen she could talk about it, she thought, hope rippling through her like a sweet mountain melody.

  They might be separated for a while, but one day he'd return to Sweet Gum Hollow with a ring and they'd be married. Then nothing could ever come between them againeven another war.

  Silky had been relaxing in the warm, sudsy water for half an hour when she heard approaching footsteps and a key turning in the lock. With a great splashing sound, she sat up and crossed her hands over her slick breasts. A moment later Taggart entered, closed the door, and leaned against it, his eyes shining with wicked amusement.

  "I didn't know you were coming back so soon," she exclaimed nervously. "I thought you were still at the livery stable. II" Like a locomotive running out of steam, she ran out of words, knowing she was in trouble for the time she'd ambushed him at old man Johnson's pond.

  After taking off his hat and jacket, he knelt by the tub and gently brushed back a lock of her damp hair. "One thing I've noticed in life is that what goes around, comes around," he remarked, an amused smile hovering on his lips. "Have you ever noticed that?"

  Silky swallowed hard, realizing how vulnerable she was. "Y-Yeah ... I suppose I have." Lordamercy, if the expression on his facewhich resembled that of the horse-critter on the wallwas a reflection of what was going on in his head, she was in more trouble than she could shake a stick at.

  He caressed the back of her neck, working his fingers in wonderful little circles. "Yes, sir, it isn't every day of the week that a man runs across a beautiful lady in the bathtub." With his other hand, he tilted her face to his. She couldn't miss the seductive gleam in his eyes as he lowered his head and rasped, "When he does, he just naturally feels challenged to do something about it."

  His mouth, which tasted of wine, covered hers in a shivery kiss that sent her passion skyrocketing like sparkling fireworks. Gently he removed her crossed hands from her breasts, and as his fingers teased her wet nipples, a delicious sensation darted down her spine. Automatically she put her arms about his shoulders, yielding to his masterful touch. At last his lips moved away from hers, leaving them tingling with warmth. She looked into those smoky eyes that beckoned her to satisfy the sweet agony possessing her. "I think it's time to get out of the tub," she whispered, now tightening her arms about his neck.

  A smile twitched the corner of his mouth. "Anything to help a lady," he replied, lightly kissing her forehead, her nose, her lips. "Here, stand up and I'll dry you off."

  His playful manner and the intimacy in his voice made him almost irresistible. Oh, he was a master at the game of love, she thought, his masculinity overpowering her as he rose, bringing her to a standing position. "How many other helpless females have you ambushed while they were taking a bath?" she murmured, her body already aching for his touch.

  Humor shining in his eyes, he peeled a towel from a chair and began drying her as gently as a nursemaid. "Actually this is a new experience for me"he flashed a broad grin"but if it works out well, I may begin haunting hotels, looking for other opportunities."

  She smiled. Then, as he dropped the damp towel and took her in his arms, she laid her head against the hollow of his neck. "Make love to me again," she whispered. "This may be our last night together for a long while." She looked into his eyes, which gleamed with sharp longing. "Who knows when you'll return. I want this night to be special ... something I can hold in my heart forever."

  For an instant his eyes darkened and he sighed deeply.

  "What's wrong?" she asked. "Did I"

  "No," he murmured, "don't talk." He slid an appreciative gaze over her. "Did you know you're the most desirable woman I've ever known? You're completely, absolutely irresistible," he admitted, his tone rough with a passion that fired her own.

  Taggart looked down at Silky's delicate face, noticing her seductive eyes and soft lips. Lord, what a predicament she was putting him in, asking him to make love to her again. If only he could take her home with him after the war, he thought. But that was utterly impossible. Ohio was the home of antislavery newspapers, the Underground Railroad, and fiery abolitionists; Ohio was solidly Union, the belt buckle of federal feeling and sympathy, a state that had answered Lincoln's call for volunteers with 30,000 soldiers.

  Silky was as Southern as Carolina jasmine and moonlight on the Mississippia fiery Reb, who hated Yankee buzzards worse than poison, as she often said. If she found out his true identity, she would loathe and despise him, and, if possible, put a bullet in his heart. If there was ever a star-crossed relationship it was theirsyet she was the most delectable, enticing woman he'd ever met, and at this particular moment, he simply couldn't resist her.

  Silky, scarcely knowing what she was doing, unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his broad, thickly haired chest. She boldly ran her fingers over his corded neck and muscled shoulders, finding the experience strangely exciting. She noticed a pulse in his throat as she stripped off his sh
irt, then unbuttoned his breeches. When she finished and he stood nude before her, a dizzying current of excitement tingled through her.

  He took the pins from her hair, and it fell cool and soft about her shoulders. With warm eyes, he drew her close and his gaze melted over her, as tender as a benediction. She draped her arms about his neck, and he hungrily kissed her mouth before lowering his fingers and rolling her nipple between his fingertips. His palm slid over her rib cage to her stomach; then his hand leathered over her sensitive inner thigh, making her tremble. When his fingers invaded her damp curls and flicked over the flower of her femininity, a wild yearning flared up within her, and her desire spilled forth like water rushing over a high fall.

  She traced her fingers over his back, aching for their union, but yearning for more than the feel of his hands upon her flesh. How she hungered to be one with him, not only in body, but it spirit and purpose, heart and soul. Soon the craving exploded into a fire that would not be denied.

  Taggart swung her feet from the carpet and carried her to the bed, where soft light gleamed over the taffeta counterpane. The fire had died down a little and its gentle glow pooled over the room and flickered against the walls. He cradled her against him and with one hand pulled back the covers, then placed her on the cool sheet. Silky felt his warmth as he lay down beside her and gathered her into his arms.

  She relaxed against his hard chest, noticing the rhythm of his beating heart. Tenderness welled within her as he reclaimed her lips and caressed her, seeking out the places that would bring her the most pleasure. Seemingly insatiable, he devoured her mouth, at the same time lavishing attention on her most intimate flesh until a languorous heat consumed her body like silken flames.

  When his searching fingers slipped into her femininity again, passion jolted through her like sheet lightning. The emotions were so sweet, so sharp, she thought as pleasure pulsed between her thighs. With a moan, she dug her fingers into his back, feeling as if she were reliving every wonderful thing that had ever happened to her all at the same time.