"Fine," he said with obvious disgust and maneuvered her past the dancers toward the exit.
"Hold a moment, North." It was the brawny soldier outfitted like an odd borderlander. A wicked scar ran from his temple to the corner of his lips.
"I suspect this is the true reason my arguments have had little effect," he said, looking at Jensen. He smiled, causing the scar on his cheek to pucker.
"Captain Rogers, this is my wife, Jensen."
"Aha," he said, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking on his heels. He continued smiling benevolently down on Jensen. "Of course, you need your man down on the plantation. With his talent for farming . . . ."
Still fuming, Jensen had no wish to compliment her husband in any way. "His brother is quite capable of overseeing the crops."
"Is he now?" Rogers's eyes lit up expectantly. "Then you won't mind if I borrow him for a month or two. A little reconnaissance work, nothing dangerous." Jensen was not deceived, the man exuded danger.
"You know, Jensen, you're right. Matthias is perfectly capable of running Moss Rose. Besides, things are getting a bit dull around here for me anyway." He shot Jensen a harsh, accusing look that broke her heart. He extended his hand to Roger, sealing his decision.
"That's settled then. We'll send word."
Levi did not even look in her direction as he accepted Rogers's overture. Of course, what had she expected, she'd nearly handed him to Rogers on a silver platter.
Lord, what had she done? Sent him off to war, she realized in a panic.
***
"Jensen, I'm sorry." Levi leaned forward to take hold of her hands, but before he could reach them, she slid herself to the far corner of the carriage and stared out the window.
Upon their arrival home, she walked up to her room, slamming the door behind her.
Her eyes widened in shock at the sound of the connecting door cracking against the wall.
She stared at him a moment. His glossy-black hair had come undone from its neat queue. She could see his pulse beating heavily at the base of his throat. A dark shadow covered his jaw. She was amazed at how quickly the elegant veneer of the evening had dissolved. It was like the danger in him, the wildness, could never be completely contained.
He stretched out on the bed, crossing his ankles and stacking his hands beneath his head, giving the distinct impression he would be staying awhile.
"I'm getting ready for bed."
"Don't let me stop you."
With trembling fingers, she unclasped the hooks on her bodice and tossed it over a chair. She stepped out of her skirt, followed by a lacy petticoat, and then another and another, and lastly she dropped the pannier to the ground with a chink of metal against wood.
She stood before him clad only in her corset, silk stockings, and dancing slippers. His hungry gaze traveled over her body to the triangle of curls at the junction of her thighs.
"Come here," he said roughly. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up as she moved toward him.
His hands cupped her naked bottom, pulling her between his thighs. She gasped as he rubbed his unshaven chin along the swell of her breast. "Why don't you show me some of the things you learned at Rosy's."
His breath grew ragged as she lifted his hand to her mouth and traced the lines of his palm with the tip of her tongue. Through lash veiled eyes, she watched as Levi's sulky lips softened in anticipation. With delicious slowness, she slipped his finger into her mouth and began to suckle it. As she looked into his eyes, now dark with passion, she gently folded her wedding band into his hand. Backing away, she viewed him through a blur of tears.
"You think of me as a liar, a whore, and now a traitor. I have no wish to continue this farce."
He shut his eyes for a long moment, his fist wrapped tight around the ring before walking slowly out of the room.
The instant the door closed behind him, she threw herself across the bed and broke down into loud, gut-wrenching sobs that she was certain could be heard by him and everyone else on the plantation. She cried until she was nearly sick from it, until she succumbed to a deep, dark, dreamless sleep.
Jensen woke to the cheery sound of birds, feeling far from cheery herself. The binding of her corset pinched her tender flesh as she unfurled her exhausted limbs under the warm quilt. Strangely, she didn't remember covering herself.
Suddenly sensing his nearness, she turned to find Levi sitting beside the bed, studying her, his eyes hooded like those of a hawk. His knee-high boots shone like glass. He wore his captain's uniform. His hair was tied back in a neat tail. Only his face showed the strain of a sleepless night.
"How long have you been sitting there?" she said, finding his scrutiny unnerving.
He sat motionless. "A couple of hours." He rested his head against the back of the chair and regarded her through his lowered lids. "Do you know that you smile in your sleep?"
"I can't imagine what I had to smile about last night," she said, stifling a yawn.
"You're not going off to fight today, are you?"
"Some officers are meeting in Williamsburg to discuss strategy."
Leaning forward, he bowed his head, resting his arms on his thighs, his hands clasped together.
"Levi, about last night, I want to . . . ." Jensen found her words silenced by a wave of his hand.
"Since you are so bent on leaving . . . ." He sighed heavily and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Hell, you've always been bent on leaving me." He gave a short, harsh laugh. "Tomorrow, I'm meeting with my solicitor. I will ask him to find out the most painless way to get out of this marriage. It might take some time to arrange. In the meanwhile, I would ask for your assurance that you will stay on at Moss Rose until the loose ends are tied up."
He removed a thin cigar from his vest pocket and lit it. His expressionless eyes fixed on her face. "I assume you're going to head back to your brother in England once this is finished. I'm sure you'll agree, there is no sense involving others in our business, so we will keep this between you and me."
He took a few long draws on his cigar, studying her through the haze of smoke before snuffing it out on the heel of his boot and tossing it into the hearth. He strode toward her and took a handful of her hair which had come unpinned. Letting it sift through his fingers, he smiled wistfully as the last strand slid from his hand.
"You can breathe now, sweeting. You got what you wanted," he said, and then he was gone.
Chapter 27
After his visit to Williamsburg, Levi took to working endless hours in the fields. They often held dinner for him, but there were times when he was so fatigued, he would doze off between bites. He began neglecting his appearance. He stopped shaving and rarely took the time to comb his hair. Regina chided him that he was beginning to resemble a mountain man, to which he replied with an indifferent shrug. The workers were walking a wide berth around him. Jensen would overhear them talking about his fierce temper, and someone would inevitably slide her an accusing glance, as though she were the cause. His usual nightcap had become a half-pint of whiskey, chugged straight from the bottle as he sat in his study, Ginger his only companion.
Jensen wished she could ease his troubles, but it seemed that she was the last person he wanted to talk to.
***
From the parlor, Jensen watched Levi's men drag themselves in from the fields, sweat drenched and bone weary, as she waited anxiously for a glimpse of her husband. The sweltering night air seemed to seep through the leaded glass panes. Mosquitoes swarmed in vibrating clusters, drawn by the torchlights bordering the manor.
Matthias joined her at the window. He, along with every able-bodied man on the plantation, had been working in the blazing heat, helping to dig new irrigation trenches. He removed his straw hat and scrubbed his sweat plastered hair with his fingers
"Whew, I don't know why we're bothering to reroute the river. Why, we've all worked up enough sweat these last few days, it seems we could just wring our clothes out over the crops."
Jensen was so intent on watching the courtyard, she could barely work up a weak smile for her charming brother-in-law.
"Why does he drive himself to the point of exhaustion every day?" she asked with a frown when Levi did not trail in with his workers.
"He's working to save the acreage that borders the Trent's property. This savage heat is taking its toll on the crops, and he's working against time to reroute the water line. If that acreage doesn't get irrigated soon, we'll stand to lose half our tobacco yield."
"Why is there suddenly no water? Did this horrid heat dry it up?"
Matthias startled her with a wry laugh. "It dried up alright, but the weather's not to blame. It seems that my father's oldest and dearest friend, Jacob Trent, believes Moss Rose has benefited from his generosity long enough. Although nature dictates that his stream runs downhill to our land, old Mr. Trent has seen fit to play God. A few weeks ago, he had his men wall up the water at his end."
"Jacob Trent is Andrea's father?"
Matthias nodded. "The instant Trent heard about Levi's new bride, he had his men erect the dam."
Jensen could see from the reflection in the blackened window that Matthias's face had become suddenly serious.
"Jensen, my brother is in a bad way, but I'm convinced it has very little to do with the plantation. He's dealt with setbacks in the past and always found his way clear without resorting to the bottle. This sudden change in his behavior," Matthias shook his head and frowned, "it's just not like him." He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Jensen, I would ask a favor of you." She turned her face to him and saw the concern etched in his handsome features. His hand kneaded her shoulder. "Show him a little tenderness."
"If I showed him tenderness, he'd laugh in my face. The only thing he wants from me is to stay well clear of him."
Matthias slapped his thigh with his hat and cursed under his breath. "That's where you're wrong, Jensen." His tone grew harsh and desperate. "Bend a little, Jensen, or be prepared to lose him. 'Cause with nothing to keep him happy here," his eyes lifted to the master bedroom upstairs, "he's bound to sign on with the militia permanently."
Hoping to hide her tears from Matthias, she held her hands up to the sides of her face, pressed them to the glass, and squinted out at the emptiness. She stayed there, glued to the window, until she heard his footsteps retreat, and then snatched up a book before taking up her vigil on the settee.
After reading the same line for what seemed the hundredth time, she slammed the book shut just as she heard Thomas's worried voice call out her husband's name.
Jensen raced toward the window, gasping as she saw Levi's faltering gait. He collapsed to his knees before reaching the marble steps. She shouted for Matthias before flinging the door open, nearly skidding across the slick surface of the veranda in her haste.
Samuel, who had been cooling himself at the water pump, ran to aid Thomas. Levi pushed their hands away and managed to heave himself to his feet.
"Good God, brother," Matthias gasped at the sight of his brother struggling to keep erect. Brooking no argument, he draped Levi's heavy arm around his shoulders.
Unprepared, Matthias's knees nearly buckled as Levi sagged against him. Matthias motioned to Thomas who rushed to take up his other arm. Levi, now too weak to protest, acquiesced and allowed both men, grunting under the strain of his weight, to haul him up to his bedchamber.
"Matt, you make certain my wife doesn't take it into her head to leave while I'm off my feet," Levi said just before sprawling across his bed.
Matthias shot Jensen an I-told-you-so look as she pushed past him to sit on the mattress beside her husband.
"You'll not be getting rid of me that easily," she said, her words uttered so softly, like a whisper of a breath across his cheek, that she doubted he even heard them.
Through the light fabric of her dress, she could feel the heat pouring off of him and touched the back of her hand to his cheek. "He's burning up," she nearly screamed, her heart started hammering in her chest like a soldier's battle drum.
"The stubborn bastard's gone and done it now," Matthias muttered, worriedly dragging his hand through his hair. "I'll fetch Maggie."
The following day, Dr. Trimble came to bleed him, leaving behind complicated instructions and pungent smelling ointments which Maggie scoffed at and quickly disposed of, saying they were useless potions prescribed by a know-nothing fool. The cooling sponge baths that she recommended, though, did little to stop the raging fever.
As Jensen attempted to dribble some warm willow bark tea into Levi's mouth, he knocked the cup from her hands, upending the contents onto the bedding. She stood up and swiped at the spreading stain. She nearly jumped when his fingers took hold of her apron and tugged with surprising strength.
"I need you, Duff," he said, his voice parched and hoarse. His lids flickered, but his eyes never opened.
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, his beard brushing against her chin. Straightening up, she fingered the ring he'd strung on a thin leather strip around his neck, her wedding band, nestled in the indentation of his chest.
With a moist cloth, she gently wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow before resuming her bedside seat.
It was afternoon, and she was near to dozing when he spoke again. "Duff, come warm me," he pleaded, and she could almost sense the chill he was feeling.
Setting aside her sewing, Jensen stripped to her chemise and slipped in beside him. Immediately, he flung a heavy arm over her shoulders. She lifted her head and peered at his face. His lids parted a slit, revealing eyes that were oddly bleached, like a lightning flash against a storm-gray day.
Once she was settled against him, his eyes slid closed. She told herself he had called to her from a feverish dream and was probably not even aware of her presence. But when she shifted her weight to move away from him, he effectively trapped her with his leg. His fingers tangled in her hair.
His intoxicating nearness seemed to induce her into a similar state of delirium. She rubbed her forehead against his soft beard before snuggling against his smooth, hard chest and falling asleep.
***
Levi gingerly lifted his aching lids. He swallowed hard, his throat felt as dry and itchy as wool. Suddenly aware that someone was perched on the edge of his bed, he turned his heavy head to the side. Unfortunately, his reactions were dulled, and his fingers merely grazed the satiny skin of his wife's thigh as she moved out of reach.
Standing at the foot of the bed now, she asked a little too brightly, "Feeling better?" She looked unbelievably appealing with her sleep-mussed hair, her pale eyes glowing.
He lifted himself to his elbows. "I think I may need to spend the day in bed," he said, hoping his invitation was obvious.
"Well advised. You need your rest. Can I do something for you?" She was at the door.
Feeling his aching need, he almost wondered if she had chosen those particular words just to torment him. "No. Nothing." He swung his legs off the bed, making certain to keep the sheet draped over his lower half, concealing the potent effect she had on him.
"I thought you were staying abed."
"Changed my mind."
"I know how bull-headed you can be, so I won't even bother trying to dissuade you." The slightest smile curled her pink lips.
He groaned as the door shut on her sweet form.
What the hell had happened to him, he wondered, as he moved his leaden legs toward the ewer stand and proceeded to douse his head with the cool water. He shook the water from his hair and beard, spraying it everywhere like a wet dog. He thought how exactly right she had looked in his bed. Catching sight of his image in the looking glass, he was surprised he hadn't frightened her to death, with his hair hanging in tangles, his eyes ringed with dark shadows, and his heavy beard smothering near half his face.
As he shaved, he told himself it would be just a matter of time before his wife became a permanent fixture in his bed. Yanking on his buckskins, it suddenly dawned on him that he'd been a
ttempting to drown his need for her with whiskey, a damned ineffective remedy at that. He had been patient with her for far too long. Hell, patient. He'd been a candidate for sainthood.
As he trotted Archer between the tobacco rows, he rubbed his fingers on his leather breeches. They still tingled with the memory of her silken skin. Yes, he thought with steely determination, she would definitely be warming his bed tonight.
"Hell's fire, brother, it seems you're not useless after all," Levi exclaimed when he saw Matthias hunkering down, fingering the moist soil of the recently arid field.
"The way I see it, Levi, I'm a damned miracle worker." Matthias straightened up and grinned at his brother. "We put torchlights out and worked through the night. It cost you a couple of kegs of hard cider, but you can't argue with the results." He swept his arm in a wide arc over the field. "Yes indeed, a damned miracle worker," he said with a laugh. "And you, you lazy bastard, finally decided to drag your sorry bones out of bed, did you?"
"The last thing I remember is struggling up the stairs to my room."
"Sickest I've ever seen you. Your skin was hot enough to fire up a branding iron."
Matthias strode toward Levi's horse and shaded his eyes to peer up into his brother's face. "You look like something Ginger dragged in from the woods."
"That's pretty much what I'm feeling like at the moment."
"I see you finally found your razor blade," Matthias said, rubbing fingers along either side of his own jaw as if he had just finished shaving himself. "Almost forgot what you looked like under all that hair." Matthias shook his golden head, a smile threatening at the corners of his lips. "It's truly a shame though, dear brother, that only one of us got the looks."
Levi laughed and spurred his horse into a fast trot, splattering dirt on Matthias's boots. Although the leaves still drooped from their dehydrated stalks, he knew it would only be a short time before they'd respond to the water. Many of the rows had already flowered under the relentless sun and would need to be topped before the week's end.
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