Scarlet Leaves

by Sonya Birmingham

  He placed his hat on the bureau and divested himself of his jacket and tie. A roguish smile playing at the corner of his mouth, he gathered her into his arms and traced his hand over her back in sensuous circles. "I think you already have a good grasp of this material"his eyes danced with merriment"but every good teacher knows the importance of reviews."

  She felt the warmth of his hands through her gown, and as his lips met hers, she trembled with emotion. Yes, there it was againa sweet, sumptuous feeling, rushing through her blood, delicious and overpowering. She looped her arms about his neck, returning the kiss, and shivered with excitement as he pulled the pins from her upswept hair and let it fall about her shoulders.

  He deepened the kiss while his hand worked at the small buttons down the back of her dress, at last freeing them from their fabric loops. He pushed the gown over her shoulders, down to her waist, then gave it a firm tug so it slid over her puffed crinoline to pool at her feet. Slowly he raised his head and, his eyes gleaming like fiery jewels, helped her step from the gown and led her to the side of the bed. His nimble fingers removed more of her clothing until she stood in her corset and pantalets, the cool air bathing her skin.

  "You should be ashamed of yourself," she teased throatily, excitement already streaking through her.

  "I'm never ashamed of myself."

  "I know," she whispered in amusement. "That's one of the things I like best about you."

  He laughed and untied the drawstring on her ribboned pantalets, then slid his hands into the top of the garment and kneaded her bare hips. Moments later he brushed the pantalets down and they fell to the floor. At last she was nude except for her corset, silk stockings, and high-button shoes. Hungrily taking her mouth once more, he unlaced her corset halfway down the front, then turned its top down, so that her breasts spilled forth.

  She moaned as he explored her mouth with his tongue and feathered his finger over her aching nipple, sending her blood pounding through her veins. With an exquisite touch, he rolled the sensitive crest between his fingers until she thought she would faint with pleasure. His lips never leaving hers, he unlaced the rest of the corset and tossed it aside. She sank to the bed with a deep sigh and relaxed into the mattress, wild sensations flaring within her.

  After removing her shoes, he lay down beside her. His fingers lingered over the creamy flesh of her inner thighs before he stripped off her stockings, which made a whispery sound as they slid from her feet. Now he gathered her close and bent his head to draw on a taut nipple with loving lips. She clasped his shoulders, pulling him to her, and when his tongue flicked back and forth over her swollen crest in little butterfly strokes, a sweet, liquid fire surged through her, leaving her weak.

  He stood, and she watched him undressing, the streaky light from the louvers playing over his huge frame. How much it would hurt her if she ever lost him, she thought, trembling at the possibility. Then the thought surfaced in her mind that until the war was over their time together was brief and unsure at best. At this precarious point in time, it seemed as if the future lay on a dim and distant horizon, covered with dark thunderclouds.

  She was somewhat surprised that Taggart hadn't spoken to her about their future together himself, but she firmly shoved the fact aside, refusing to dwell on it. And how many times had she considered bringing up the subject of being handfasted? In her heart she promised herself she wouldjust as soon as her courage was high enough and she was absolutely sure of his love.

  He sank down beside her, inching a thoughtful gaze over her. "I'll vow, Fancy Pants, I can hear wheels clicking in your pretty head. What are you thinking about?"

  She traced her fingertips over his high cheekbones and the lines that fanned from his eyes. "I was thinking about the futureabout what's going to happen to us," she answered, now smoothing her hands over his shoulders and clutching his corded arms. "When you get to thinking about it, life is so short, isn't it?"

  He regarded her for a quiet moment; then a tender smile raced over his bronzed face. "Yes, life is short," he whispered huskily, his eyes dazzling her with passion that threatened to blaze out of control. "So let's start living it."

  Pulling her to him, he reclaimed her mouth while his hand glided to the softness of her inner thigh, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. As his skilled fingers grazed over her intimate flesh, bringing her to sensuous heights of pleasure, she wondered how much longer she could endure the sweet torture. Quivering with need, she relinquished the last of her inhibitions as he stroked and teased her womanhood with delicate, erotic strokes.

  She gasped as his lips left hers to trail to her breast. There he gently suckled and nibbled, lavishing moist attention on the sensitive crest until she ached to know the complete fulfillment of his lovemaking. With a tremulous sigh, she surrendered to the warm sensations clamoring within her, her heart hammering against her ribs.

  Taggart continued his tender ministrations, making Silky light-headed with passion. He was driving her to distraction with the fiery kisses he fluttered over every inch of her skin, and a tremor of pleasure sailed down her spine, making her moan his name. At last a wild, budding ache asserted itself between her thighs, and she clutched his arms, whispering, "Love me, Taggart, love me as if there was no tomorrow."

  His hungry lips descended on hers, and he covered the length of her with his muscled body. Her flesh ached with need, and as his hands flowed over her, bringing her to the point of reckless frenzy, she sighed with pent-up desire. Gently he parted her thighs, then slipped his hard manhood into her welcoming warmth. He moved within her, slowly at first, then faster, plunging so possessively she could scarcely catch her breath.

  She arched to meet him, matching his rhythm as maddening desire spread through her veins like wildfire. Their breath intermingling, they moved in perfect harmony toward the pinnacle of ecstasy, and Silky accepted his driving thrusts with eagerness. Joy exploded within her like the sun as it rose over the mountains, bathing their peaks in fiery color. Then as she reached her crest, one trembling wave of pleasure after another crashed over her, consuming her with rapturous sensation.

  As their bodies and spirits merged as one, Silky experienced a feeling of fulfillment that even her dreams had not been able to capture. Lost in a glorious realm that defied description, all the longing she felt for Taggart rushed forth, filling her with such intense emotion she thought her heart might burst with love.

  After a long, breathless moment, she slowly drifted back to reality, nestled in his strong arms. Tenderly he trailed his fingers over her stomach and breasts and, lifting her hand, nuzzled his mouth over each of her fingertips. Content beneath his masterful touch, she felt as if she were floating on a fluffy cloud somewhere high above the world and all its troublesome problems.

  He kissed her eyelids and the throbbing pulse in her neck, then sighed contentedly and relaxed against his pillow. "We'll have to schedule another lesson soon," he murmured sleepily. His voice was thick and dreamy and threaded with longing. "It seems I can never get enough of you." Murmuring words of love, he rolled toward her and cuddled her back against his chest, resting a protective arm over her waist.

  Silky heaved a tremulous sigh, scarcely believing her present existence was not some fantastic dream. She could never remember feeling this happy, this wonderful, this contented. As she heard his regular breathing, she relaxed and her body melted into the soft mattress.

  Yes, life was short, and who knew what lay on that dark horizon? she thought with a prickle of dread, not knowing when she and Taggart might be separated. But he'd escorted her to Richmond to see Daniel and always treated her like a princess. They would talk about handfasting soonshe just knew they would. Telling herself she'd deal with the future as it materialized, she decided to bide her time and be patient.

  Taggart would never let her downnot a fine Southern gentleman like him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Delcie gave Silky's petticoat tapes a last tug, then tied them in a bow and turned her abo
ut in front of the cheval glass. "Them you goes, missy," she announced, her large brown eyes dancing with life. "I'll be bringin' over your gown now, and afore you knows it you'll be ready for dinner."

  Silky watched with awe as Delcie carried the gorgeous pink silk dress, trimmed with frothy lace, across the room. Delcie had been to the Spotswood several times now and Silky liked her more every time she saw her. This evening a red calico dress, frayed about the cuffs and flimsy from many washings, clung to Delcie's slight form. With her thick, curly eyelashes, delicately sculpted face, and ready smile, she was lovely indeed.

  The girl had talked incessantly since she'd arrived, but Silky didn't care, for she was beginning her lady lessons tonight, and the chatter diverted her nervousness. After Delcie carefully lowered the billowing gown over Silky's head, she maneuvered her arms into the sleeves, feeling the cool silk against her skin. "Lawsy," Delcie said with a sigh, "you is sure lucky to have lots of money and fine clothes, and plenty of good food to eat. Mighty lucky indeed."

  When the gown had settled over Silky's body, she surveyed Delcie, noticing how slim she was. "You don't get enough to eat, do you?" she asked softly, her natural compassion stirred by the innocent remark.

  The girl turned her about and started working on the tiny buttons on the back of the gown. "Well, sometimes I does, and sometimes I don't," she answered thoughtfully. "There's a passel of us tree blacks livin' in a shantytown here in Richmond and we all share our victuals. Sometimes we gets a little chicken, but us ain't had any beef in a coon's age. Fact of bein', us just about lives on field peas and sweet 'taters. Sometimes Jim brings in some fish or a coon from the country; then us eats fine for a while."

  "Jim?" Silky echoed, looking over her shoulder. "Is he your brother?"

  Delcie burst out with a high-pitched giggle. "No, Jim's my man, missy! A few years back us was both slaves of old Master Talbet, who lived out on the Petersburg Road. He was a good master, but took no foolishness and worked us right smart." The girl smoothed the gown's waistline and, her tone as lilting as a melody, added, "I was Miz Talbet's maid. 'Sides that I do other things for her like feedin' her cats. I always feeds them out on the back porch of the big house, and Jim, he was always messin' around that porch while I's feedin' them cats."

  Realizing Delcie had finished with the buttons, Silky turned and watched her animated face.

  "One day I ask Jim if he be in love with one of them cats or he be in love with me." Delcie gave a crooked smile. "Jim don't say nothin' but just grin like a possum; then I knows he's in love with me."

  Silky laughed in amusement.

  Delcie's face softened with memories. "Right after that, the old master died and Miz Talbet be left all alone with all them cats. When her eyes started gettin' real bad, she teached me to read 'cause she don't have no children or anybody else to read to her. I caught on to that readin' business real quick like. Miz Talbet always have me read her letters, and newspapers, and such like."

  Suddenly a worried look tightened her countenance. "Now don't be tellin' anybody that, missy," she softly advised, searching her new mistress's face. "Nobody's supposed to teach us blacks how to read, but sometimes they does when it suits them."

  Shock rippled through Silky, for this was the first she'd heard of such a law, and it angered her that anyone should be forbidden to read.

  The girl picked up some clothes from the bed. "Afore Miz Talbet went to her reward," she added, her gaze drifting over her shoulder as she hung the garments in a wardrobe, "she gave her other slaves to her sister, but she freed me and Jim. She give us writ-out papers to carry with us, so if the patrollers stopped us they'd know us was free."

  She closed the creaking wardrobe door, then sauntered back to Silky. "But all me and Jim got for our freedom was a hungry belly. Us had no land, no mule, no cabin, no nothin' to set up housekeepin'. For a while us just simmered in our misery and scoured the woods for nuts and seined the river for fish. Then I thought of comin' up to Richmond for work. But us ain't found much. These be hard times, missy. And gettin' food seems to be the biggest problem for folks like us." She wagged her head. "Sometimes I gets real hungry for a little meat."

  Silky sat down and raised her skirts so she could put on her shoes. "I can understand how you feel," she remarked, remembering the fine meat she'd hung in her smokehouse. "I'm partial to a good ham myself."

  "Umm-umm," Delcie exclaimed, sinking down on the carpet and slipping shoes on Silky's feet. "I'd shore like a bite of ham now. All us folks in the shantytown are waitin' for spring so us can find a little wild greens and plant a garden. I reckon the folks in big houses will be plantin' gardens, too, food bein' as scarce as it is.

  "You knows," the gift remarked thoughtfully, working on the buttons running up the side of the shoes, "I hears there's big warehouses of food right here in Richmond, filled with weevilly meal and lots of canned meat and such." She looked at Silky with soft brown eyes. "Story is some highup gentlemens is savin' that food back. They's savin' it to sell to the white folks this spring when everybody will be hungry enough to eat one of old Miz Talbet's cats."

  Silky felt a prick of surprise. "Is that so?" she asked after a moment's hesitation. "How did you find out about that?"

  Delcie winked at her. "Livin' where I does I hears plenty of big secrets," she answered in a conspiratorial tone. "Most of the time the white gentlemens forget us black folks has eyes and ears, and us learns a lot by just watchin' and listenin'."

  The dusky girl stood, her slender hands on her hips. "Jim and me are wantin' to get married, but things bein' what they is, we can't be rightly hitched like white folks," she explained, meandering to the vanity to straighten up the brushes and combs. She turned about, her face taking on a dreamy look. "Soon as the money comes in, us will go north and get married proper like."

  Silky rose and walked toward her, compassion swelling in her heart. There were almost no slaves in the high Blue Ridge, and this conversation with Delcie had removed a veil from her eyes. Until this evening she had known little of the personal indignities and legal restrictions the blacks endured.

  "Now don't be lookin' sad. missy," Delcie piped up. "Me and Jim will make it up north all right." She widened her dark eyes. "I'll do a little dab of work here, and he'll do a little dab of work there, and afore you knows it, us will be across that Mason-Dixon line, war or no war."

  Silky opened the vanity drawer and took out a few Confederate bills given to her by Taggart as pin money. When she placed the bills in Delcie's hand, the girl quickly gave them back. "Oh, no, missy. Lieutenant Taggart already pays me for comin' hereten whole dollars a week."

  Silky stuffed the money in the girl's apron pocket. "Tonight when I'm eating dinner with him," she remarked with a smile, "I want to picture you and Jim eating something good, too. I think it would make the food go down better."

  Delcie's eyes sparkled. "Why, thank you kindly, missy," she offered cheerfully, her voice brimming with gratitude. "This will be enough to buy a chicken and 'taters and such, and we'll cook us up the biggest, thickest pot of stew in Richmond."

  A lump rose in Silky's throat. Once again she pondered all the things she'd been taught, and began to realize how isolated her life had been in the Blue Ridge. With a sense of growing awareness, she reconsidered slavery, realizing that perhaps it wasn't the innocent, protective institution she'd been told it was.

  Later that evening Silky clung to Taggart's hard-muscled arm as he escorted her into the dining room of the Spotswood. All about them elegant people conversed politely as they ate their meals. She'd been here before, but was still impressed with the room's peach-pink, silk-covered walls, and its mahogany tables set with china and silver that gleamed in the light of sparkling chandeliers.

  Once seated, she listened to Taggart order dinner over the murmur of soft conversation and the tinkle and scrape of crystal and expensive flatware. A smile played over his face, and as always he looked magnificent, tonight wearing a blue jacket, an embroidered v
est, and a white satin cravat that brought out his smooth tan.

  The old waiter who was serving them looked at Taggart, a respectful expression in his dark eyes. "Will you be needin' anythin' else, sir?"

  "If you have a white wine, serve it with the meal, will you?"

  The old man ran a veined hand over his peppery grayblack hair. "I'll see what I has, sir."

  They ate a wonderful meal of soup, roast chicken, buttery vegetables, and flaky rolls, with Taggart telling her which spoon and fork to use for each course. The waiter had found a bottle of white wine, and as he poured it, Taggart informed her about wines, spirits, and after-dinner liqueurs, making her wonder what he'd thought of the raw but powerful applejack she'd once served him in the Blue Ridge.

  As she consumed the savory food, she scanned the sumptuous room, still amazed that a place like this even existed and that she was here. She also thought of Delcie and Jim eating their chicken stew by a campfire in their shantytown and all the meals she'd cooked over a grate in her own hearth. It seemed, she thought dryly, that where you ate your chicken all depended on who you knew and what color your skin was.

  Enthusiastically, Silky helped herself to another roll and a third serving of chicken, cutting into it with relish. Taggart cast her a sidelong glance. ''What's wrong?" she inquired softly. "Did I use the wrong fork?"

  "Southern ladies eat only one helping of food, and usually not all of that."

  "Now that really doesn't make sense at all," she answered, wondering if she wanted to be a lady alter all. "Being cinched in a corset all day is one thing, but starving yourself just for manners' sake is something else all over again," she asserted as she looked at Taggart and finished every bit of her chicken.

  When the waiter served creamy rice pudding for dessert, he brought out something Taggart called demitasse cups of what now passed for coffee in Virginia, then laid a small spoon beside each cup.