The Thanksgiving Day Bride: Mail Order Bride Novels

by Sandee Keegan

  “Well, that is plenty for you to begin with. Make sure you have a pen and paper to practice on and you may chaperone the lesson and expand your learning while you do.” Izzy chewed her lip and fretted before replying.

  “I don’t think the missus will be too please with a slave asking for a pen and paper if it isn’t for work, miss.” Emma frowned. She considered it for a moment, then smirked.

  “It isn’t for you, Izzy, of course, it is for me. Should I give it to you to use once we are in there, surely she cannot blame you for following my orders.” Izzy dipped her head in acquiescence and left Emma to ready herself for the day.

  Before she knew it, her aunt was bursting in to hurry her up and take her into town, and between dress fittings for the parties that would accompany the Thanksgiving festival season, and introductions to the women of Charleston society, Emma completely forgot about her father, the poor escaped slaves, and even the dark-haired, dark-eyed professor. Only the dull ache of her mother’s death stayed with her at every minute, each new experience and friendly face was a reminder that she was now alone.

  She sat out on the veranda and composed a letter to her mother in her head while she sipped her tea and waited to be called for supper. Just as the houseman stepped out the front door to bid her come and eat. Mister Du Morney cantered up on his big bay stallion. He leapt down and strode up the stairs to meet Emmaline at the door.

  “My dear lady. It is my utmost pleasure to see you again.” He took her hand and smiled to himself as he heard her breath catch and hold. Turning his head so his eyes met hers, he lightly brushed his mouth across her skin and rubbed it with his thumb as he watched her eyes widen and her lips part.

  “Mister Du Morney, it is so good to have you. Please, come in, dinner is being served.” She stood watching him like a mouse watches a snake, waiting for his next move. Ever the gentleman, Stephen offered his arm with a smile.

  “My lady, let us not keep the master of the house waiting.” His thick French accent made him sound so exotic and worldly to Emma that she giggled a little despite herself and slipped her hand over the crook of his elbow. He felt warm and strong next to her, and her pulse jumped when he placed his free hand over hers and pressed her lightly into him.

  The others dining together had already gathered at the table and were making small talk over their wine as Emma and her tutor made their appearance. Stephen felt Emma stiffen at the sight of a rather unsavory looking character seated near her uncle, chatting amiably with the plantation owner. Emma pressed herself even closer to her companion as Edwin showed them to their respective seats across the table from each other. Stephen felt a flash of anger as the stranger at the table perused Emma from his perch at her uncle’s elbow. That burst of anger became a slow burn of jealousy as Emma returned his predatory smile with an innocent grin of pleasure.

  “Mister Taggert, you’ve returned. I’m so glad you are here so I can thank you properly for coming to my aid last evening. I apologize if my sudden retreat offended in any way.” Stephen glanced from his pretty student to her apparent hero.

  “Miss Emma, it was my duty to prevent harm from befalling Mister Auburn’s favorite niece, especially at the hands of one of his closest friends, over money.” He lifted his glass to her in a salute before drinking. Stephen quietly watched cooling his temper and accepting the wine that the houseman, Edwin, slipped into his hand

  “Oh, Stephen, umm, Mister Du Morney.” Emma began “We had a spark of excitement here last evening, between another client of Mister Taggert and my uncle. Mister Taggert came to my rescue, and that of my maid. I will admit, sir that I was quite taken aback by your imposing appearance when I first saw you. I am not so intimidated by you, now that I know you are a gentleman.” Emmaline’s humble confession made Taggert laugh out loud, and she and Stephen shared a look of confusion before he answered.

  “I am not nearly as scary as I make people think, miss. I am not paid to look genteel, but I was gifted with a mother and do know which hand to hold my knife in, if I am forced to behave myself.” Emma’s uncle gave a short bark of laughter and ordered the first course be served. Emma was taken aback by her uncle’s mood, but was too shy to ask, as she had been forbidden to speak up in front of her father when she had lived at home, even before the pneumonia had taken her mother from them.

  Through the course of dinner Emma learned that Taggert and the slave owner, Towers, had come to an acceptable agreement that for payment for his search for the slaves who had managed to run away, and would be staying on with Emma and her family as he began. He believed that with the influx of friends and family for the upcoming celebrations, that his first step to finding the renegades would be to question inbound travelers.

  “That reminds me, I have incredible news for you, Emma.” Her uncle boasted. “Your father has sent word that he is going to be here for our feast of Thanksgiving. You must be missing him terribly.” Emma’s eyes flew wide and she dropped her eyes as she recovered her composure.

  “That is wonderful news, Uncle,” she replied breathlessly when she realized he was still staring at her. I shall endeavor to make an exceptional showing on my examination, so that when he arrives, he may be pleased with my work.

  “Knowing your father, he’d prefer it if you were engaged to be married, over being an excellent student,” her uncle guffawed. Emma cringed and glanced furtively at Stephen, who was conversing with her aunt and apparently hadn’t heard, much to her relief. She felt so drawn to him, she did not want her father’s social agenda to muddy the water between them.

  Taggert proved to be amiable and generous, and Emma desperately wished to ask how he could hunt human beings and return them to bondage, especially under such dire circumstances as she knew Tower’s plantation, Camelot, had to be. Finally, her curiosity overwhelmed her and she blurted out over a question of swampland navigation from her tutor directed toward the roughneck tracker.

  “Is it very difficult to return slaves to bad owners?” She asked and immediately crimsoned and fell silent, appalled at her own audacity.

  “No, miss, it is not,” the burly man replied more gently than she was expecting. She looked up with anguish in her face. “You see, Miss Emma, it is not my place to decide who has a good life or a bad one. My only concern is to return them to their home in the best health possible. What happens after is between the slave, their master, and God. Emma sat straighter and thrust out her chin.

  “Well, it isn’t fair,” she chastised the older man. “They’re people, and they’re treated like belongings.” She glanced again at Stephen, who shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

  “I understand your point of view, Emma,” he agreed. “I have never been comfortable with the idea of owning a human being. However, I understand that this is a way of life that would take great effort to change.” Mister Taggert nodded.

  “It might surprise you to know I don’t have any slaves of my own miss, but I do not. I simply return fugitives, any people who are breaking the law, so they may face the consequences. Not everyone is a slave owner, my little Yankee sister.” Rebecca’s uncle and aunt exchanged a look and smiled benevolently on her as the two men gently courted her attention. Emma smiled at Stephen, emboldened by his views.

  Shortly after dessert was served, Edwin requested the gentlemen remove themselves to the study for brandy, and Emma showed Stephen back to the library for her lesson. Izzy awaited them with pen, ink, and a sheaf of paper, flushed and glowing at the opportunity to learn while her mistress did. Stephen heartily agreed to the extra student and chaperone, and the three set themselves to work.

  By the time her uncle Dennis came to check on them, Stephen had placed Emma as per her previous knowledge and education and she and Izzy were writing furiously as Stephen lectured them on the colonization of Africa and India by the British. He glanced down at Izzy, whose handwriting was almost as neat and clean as his niece’s.

  “Isn’t it wonderful, Uncle?” Emma gushed as he glanced down
at her own paper. Izzy is such a wonderful writer, she is taking some notes, and I am taking others, to help me study later, while professor Du Morney is able to cover more, and more easily.” Emma’s uncle saw a flush in her cheeks and sparkle in her eye that had been lacking since the day she had arrived.

  “Well, Isabella, you are brighter and more educated than I was led to believe. Emma has a good friend in you. Keep up the hard work.” Izzy glowed with pride and handed Emma the next full page of notes, which she blew across gently to dry the ink before setting them in a pile off to one side. She and Emma shared a quick, happy look, and her doting uncle puffed up in pride that he’d done so well for his brother-in-law’s child.

  The moment he left, Izzy slipped out the second door to the servants’ quarters, claiming a pain in her stomach, and promised to return shortly. Left alone, Emma became quiet. She stared down at the paper on the desk and tried to calm her quaking stomach. She was startled into looking up at her tutor when he placed a hand over hers on the table, making her heart crash against the waves of desire and fear that made her chest feel tight and her mouth dry.

  “Mademoiselle Emma, I must be honest about my intentions with your family,” Stephen murmured as he drew a chair close and sat, still touching her skin, warm and solid and strong, with such a gentle caress. She flushed and looked away, but left her hand under his as he spoke.

  “Perhaps we can extend our lessons to include the sciences that I might learn of the local flora and important crops of this part of the country. Even if that includes walking together in the fields and farmland nearby. Chaperoned, of course.” Emma added abruptly before meeting Stephen’s eyes.

  “I believe that the sciences are essential to your ability to complete your schooling, and I will return in two days’ time with that in mind, following your examination of the commerce of the Nile.” Emma nodded and smiled at him, a slow, sweet revelation that made him feel possessive and careful at once.

  “I will await your instruction, Mister Du Morney,” she bowed her head politely, still smiling. He stared for a moment before collecting himself.

  “Until then, Miss Govern.” Stephen kissed her hand, then turned it over so her palm was facing up, and placed another soft kiss there. Her gasp made his mouth water and his body tightened at the thought of moving those kisses to her lips, her throat, then down to the gentle swell of breast that floated above the deep neckline of her dress. The need to undress her and touch all of her grew as she smiled shyly at him, innocent of his craving for her body

  Emma heard a horse whinny seconds before Izzy returned to the room, breaking the spell between Tutor and student. Stephen smiled briefly at the two young women and began to gather up his papers into his satchel, as Izzy tidied up Emma’s notes and put away her pen and ink.

  “People are beginning to arrive, Miss. I have never been part of the Thanksgiving season here before. The other servants have been talking about it for days and I cannot wait to see you in the dresses your aunt purchased in town.” Emma blushed and smiled. The more Izzy talked, the more she was reminded of her dear Sukie. She sent Izzy to join the others and help carry in luggage for whoever had arrived.

  “Lovely mademoiselle, why do you look so sad?” Stephen looked aghast at the crestfallen girl as she wiped a stray tear from her cheek.

  “My mother brought me to the autumn festival when I was very young. It will be difficult to be here without her.” Emma knew Stephen had been told about her loss, as had every listening ear within miles of her aunt. She hadn’t realized how torn she would be once she was here. “I was determined to be angry and sad and have a terrible time to show I was a good daughter, but… I want to be happy. Is that very terrible of me?” She stared down into her lap and wrung her hands together.

  “Sweet Emmaline. I can think of nothing a loving mother would want more than to look down on her daughter and see that she has found happiness.” He took her hand in his and knelt before her. “There is nothing I would love more than to see you happy, for your mother’s sake.” She blushed, but didn’t pull her hand away, and he lifted it to his lips.

  “I want to learn.” She stammered. She licked her lips and tried again. “I was brought her to be married off, but I do not know how to please a man.” She crimsoned and dropped her eyes back to her lap. His hands massaged hers for a moment, then he abruptly let go and stood, pacing across the room.

  “What are you asking, Emmaline? I need to know what you want from me.” He strode across to her and tilted her chin so he could look her in the eyes.

  “I want to know how a woman should… how a woman should kiss a man.” Emmaline blurted. Stephen was torn between relief and disappointment. He already knew no matter what his young charge had asked of him, he would have given it gladly and shamelessly.

  “Then close your eyes for me, sweet Emmaline.” Her heart raced as she closed her eyes and waited. The first brush of his lips was like silk sliding over her mouth, and she gasped with the pleasure. Taking his cue from her, he deepened the kiss and gently parted her lips with his. He teased her with his tongue, slipping it between her lips and holding her against him when she pulled back in surprise. She clutched at his arms and mingling her tongue with his until he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth and sucked it until she moaned. When he finally pulled away she made a small sound of disappointment and he chuckled.

  “Did I make a mistake?” She whispered. Her lips felt thick and heavy as she spoke, and her thighs ached with a need she did not understand. He watched as she pushed her hand down toward her maidenhead and his body reacted with almost violent need.

  “Oh, sweet girl, I am not finished with you yet.” He growled, reveling as she shuddered. “You taste like the sunrise, sweet and new and untouched. I do not know how I can teach you what you wish, without teaching you that which you did not ask for.” The look in his eyes made Emmaline feel weak, and she ached to touch his skin and to be held as she’d seen men touch the wonton women when she had peeked out of her carriage traveling through the city.

  “I want to learn everything you will teach me.” She declared, breathless and resolute. “I have never felt anything like I do when you look at me, and when you touch me I cannot tell if I am more alive, or dying from need.” She stood and touched his face, gently stroking it with her soft hands, the hands of a privileged lady. “I came here wishing I had fallen into my mother’s grave, because no one else cared if I lived. I cannot imagine not meeting you, although I hardly know you at all.”

  “It is because of that, I am unwilling to teach you too much, Emmaline. You are a lady, and I will treat you as such, even though I am in agony keeping my distance.” He leaned into her hand and she moved his face to hers. Her kiss was as chaste and pure as she herself, but it still stoked the fire of desire in him until he yanked her against him and forced the kiss deeper. He held her throat and bruised her lips with the intensity of his need, nipping her lips and delving deep into her mouth with his tongue until he was forced to stop for air. She wavered on her feet and he held her steady, thrilling at her glassy gaze and swollen pout.

  She smiled at him and reached up for another kiss as his hand brushed her breast arousing her even through the fabric. She was speechless and nodded her assent and he leaned in to kiss her back as his hand slid around her small breast and his fingers slid under the neckline of her dress. She gasped and her eyes flew wide as he squeezed her breast in one hand and pulled her so tightly against him she could feel the thick hard heat of his arousal even through her voluminous skirts.

  He glanced around for a place to lay her down, to loosen her stays and free her from the cursed clothing that stood between him and his prize. He half dragged her to the settee in the corner as she laughed in delight and as he lay her down, the door burst open again with a bang and Izzy called out to an unseen person.

  “Oh, here you are miss, I was afraid you had wandered off for a promenade. Let me show you to the parlor!” Izzy’s voice was unnaturally loud and
cheerful, and belied the panicked look on her face. Immediately understanding the dire circumstance that he and Emma were now in, Stephen leapt away from the object of his desire and grabbed his satchel. Izzy pointed him toward the serving halls behind the library and he disappeared through the doorway with a quick grin and a wink to reassure Emma.

  “Tell her I will return for her.” He whispered to Izzy as he passed out of sight. She turned to her mistress, who was disheveled and confused on the settee.

  “Towers has returned and he is demanding to speak with you.” She whispered as she straightened the frightened girl’s hair and dress. Once she had returned Emma to a presentable state, she poured her a glass of brandy and cautioned her to sip it as she joined the others, holding the glass near her mouth until the puffy, just kissed look dissipated. Shocked and dismayed at her own lack of self-control, the contrite Emma did as she was asked without a word.

  She allowed Izzy to lead the way into the parlor, marveling at the slave’s bravery as she came face to face one more time with her cruel former master. Emma was terrified to meet him again, but took strength from her maid and held her head high as she entered, even giving Izzy her tumbler of brandy as she walked through the double doors. She saw her aunt and uncle almost cowering in a corner. Her aunt was tear-stained and sniffling into a handkerchief, and her uncle was pale and sweating, holding his arm as if he was in great pain.

  “There you are, you sneaky girl.” Towers stood from his seat and advanced, shaking a finger at her. “You’re a sympathizer, just like your highbrow Yankee mother. I demand to know where you took the property you stole from me!” His voice rose as he spoke, until he was shouting, and some of the spittle flying from his lips landed on Emma’s arm. She cringed back and stared at her aunt and uncle in frightened confusion.

  “I already told you, Harold,” her uncle shouted in exasperation, “my niece arrived a full day after your slaves escaped. Maybe if you weren’t such a goddamned sadist, you wouldn’t have to spend so much on new slaves and bounty hunters.” Mister Towers spun and took one angry stride toward her uncle and Emma made an involuntary noise of anger and fear.