Midnight Rose

by Patricia Hagan

  “But if you go ahead and run away, could you find your way to her?”

  He gave a helpless shrug. “Don’t know. I’d find the first Free Soiler agent, and he’d send me to the next stop. I’d have no way of knowin’ where I was goin’. There ain’t nothin’ regular about none of it, we hear. They change the way all the time, sayin’ there’s less chance of bein’ followed after if they don’t stick to the same route. But that don’t matter. I’m gonna go as soon as I can, but there’s no tellin’ when that might be. When a slave runs away, the mastah, he keeps an awful close watch for a while.”

  “I wasn’t aware there were any slaves running away from here,” she admitted.

  Rosa was quick to inform her solemnly, “Miz Erin, all over the South, overseers are blowin’ their horns every mornin’ to rouse the slaves, and every time, they’re findin’ out the number reportin’ to the fields is dwindlin’. They’re runnin’, Miz Erin,” she said in a voice etched with bitterness and pain, “runnin’ from bein’ beaten and bein’ thought of lower than the dogs trained to hunt ’em. It’s gonna get worse, too, ’cause my people are gettin’ tired of it. They’d rather go to their maker than be slaves.”

  Erin, overwhelmed by everything she’d just learned, began to experience an emotional and spiritual kinship with the wretched souls of all slaves everywhere. “I’m going to do everything I can to help,” she vowed, there in the oppressive heat of the shabby slave cabin. “I promise.”

  “Then you might as well know somethin’ else.” Rosa looked to Ben for his consent that she tell all. He nodded, and choking on a sob, she hoarsely whispered, “Mastah Zachary, he been takin’ his pleasure with Letty. That’s why she was wantin’ to run away so bad.”

  Erin became dizzy with flashing rage. It was all she could do to keep from marching straight back to the house and trying to strangle the devil with her bare hands. Instead, she told herself to be calm, that there was much more to be accomplished in secret. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, barely able to speak beyond her fury. “You can tell your people that from this day forward, they can count on me to help them any way I can.”

  For now, she told herself fiercely as she left them, it’s time for me to make some wedding plans.

  Chapter Ten

  Ryan was at one of the stables, assisting with a difficult foaling. When one of the hands came rushing in to inform him a female rider was coming up the road, he frowned at the interruption. “Whoever it is, tell them I can’t see them right now. Damn! When will people learn they aren’t welcome here unless they’re invited?” He returned to the task at hand, dismissing the potential intruder.

  A few moments later, Erin walked into the stable. She surveyed the dramatic scene—Ryan with his sleeves rolled up, hands and arms smeared with blood, as he worked feverishly with what appeared to be a very anguished mare. The thought of just backing out didn’t occur to her. Instead, she watched in awe as he ultimately succeeded in delivering a shaky-legged colt into the world.

  “This one is going to be a fine stallion,” Ryan announced proudly to the Negroes hanging on the railings about the stall. “It was well worth the effort to save him.”

  He stood and began to wipe his hands on a towel someone had handed over. It was only then that he noticed how the onlookers were staring beyond him, to the open stall gate. As he turned to see what held their interest, he was immediately jolted by a flash of anger.

  Erin Sterling.

  The bitterness came rushing back over the conniving way she’d set out to trap him into marriage from the very beginning. Yet, as he continued merely to glare at her in icy silence, rankled by her presence, there was no denying she was truly a splendid sight to behold.

  She was wearing a pristine dress of pink cotton lace. Her long, thick, glossy hair was blue-black, like a moonless sky at midnight. Her skin, so soft, still reminded him of rich cream laced with warm coffee. He’d always thought her eyebrows so extraordinary, arched like raven’s wings above thick-lashed eyes of that strange color, cognac, with flame stars at their centers, like the fiery topaz jewel they simulated.

  Late this humid July afternoon, Erin wore her hair upswept, tied with a pink bow. Her dress fit tight across her bosom, emphasizing full, round breasts and tiny waist. Gracefully, her skirt draped to offer a glimpse of slender, shapely ankles.

  Disconcerted by her unexpected appearance, and also exhausted by having been at his task since before dawn, Ryan could only stand there and drink in the sight of her.

  Finally, with a saucy smile, she tilted her head back to tease, “Goodness, Mr. Youngblood, is this any way to receive a lady who’s come to accept your proposal of marriage?”

  He tossed the towel aside, stepped over the exhausted mare, and walked out of the straw-littered stall. He suppressed his amusement as he fired back, “That would be the last reason I’d guess you were here, after your mother’s visit of a few days ago.”

  She fell in step beside him as they left the stable. With a shrug of nonchalance, as though it were mere whimsy, Erin reminded him, “Well, as you know, I was insulted, justifiably so, I might add, by your previous offer—”

  “I never made any offer,” he corrected. “I only admitted to intent.”

  “Whatever,” she airily dismissed his statement. “I thought it over and decided perhaps it was to my advantage to accept. After all, servants talk and word gets out, and I can’t have my name sullied. So I finally gave in to my mother’s insistence that you owed it to me, after your disreputable behavior, to marry me and protect my virtuous reputation.”

  It was all he could to keep from bursting out laughing. She was quite the little schemer and played the role of indignant damsel to the hilt.

  They walked along in silence for a few moments, and, as they approached the rear of the house, he realized she had slowed. He looked at her to see how her eyes had grown wide at the sight of the massive structure, how she just stood there, gazing in awe.

  “I didn’t know it was so…so impressive,” she finally murmured. “How many rooms are there?”

  “I haven’t thought about it lately. Last time I counted, there were about twenty.”

  “My God!” She shook her head. “Unbelievable. What do you use them all for?”

  “First floor has a ballroom. Two dining rooms, one large for formal dinners, the other is small, for regular family meals. There are two parlors, again, one large for company, and the other one small, intimate. My mother uses it to receive her friends for tea or whatever. Then there’s a library. A sewing room. Sun porch. A couple of rooms for serving food brought in from the outside kitchen. Upstairs there’s a wing on each end, two bedrooms adjoined by a sitting room, and three bedrooms each side, hall down the middle.”

  He motioned for her to precede him up the back steps. “Would you like a grand tour?”

  So far, she’d been able to hide her nervousness. Being near him ignited memories of the way he had held her, kissed her. She didn’t want to chance being alone with him in one of those twenty rooms. “I don’t think so,” she said finally. “There’ll be time for that later.”

  Ryan was tired. He was also annoyed with her acting as if she was doing him a favor by her presence. “Is that the only reason you came?” he snapped. “To tell me you changed your mind? I figured you would, and you could have just written a note, or sent your mother. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got other things to do.” He took a step up.

  “No,” she cried, not liking his attitude. “I wanted to let you know that two weeks from Sunday will be fine. I’m afraid Mother was a bit anxious, but she agrees with me there’s no real rush. Now, I’ll talk to Parson Knight and make the arrangements for a simple service in his parsonage. You can send for my trunks the day before, and…” Her voice trailed off as she saw the astonished way he was looking at her, as though he were about to explode in anger. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “I think,” he said tightly, grasping her elbow firmly and abruptly ste
ering her up the steps toward the back porch, “you do need to come inside, Miss Sterling, because I think it’s time we got a few more things settled besides the wedding date.”

  “But—”

  “This way!” he thundered, giving her a gentle shove into the house.

  She saw they were in a small room, with cabinets on the wall filled with dishes of all sizes and quality. There were countertops below, a large table in the middle. It was, no doubt, the room where food was brought for serving.

  He guided her from there down a narrow, dark hallway, and she became angrier by the moment at the way he was acting. Opening a door at the end, she was greeted with late afternoon sun streaming in through floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a huge stone fireplace at one end, the walls covered in mounted heads of deer, bear, wild hogs, and other creatures of the wild. The air smelled of tobacco and leather. He pointed to a sofa. “Sit.” Moving to a mahogany cabinet, he brusquely asked, “What would you like? Wine? A brandy? I can have Ebner bring tea, if you prefer.”

  “Wine,” she told him, then rushed to protest, “I don’t know why you’re behaving like this, but I can’t see that we’ve anything else to discuss for the moment, and—”

  “No, we aren’t going to discuss anything,” he said, pouring her wine. He handed her the glass, then declared icily, “I am going to talk, and you are going to listen.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will.”

  He sat down behind his desk, leaned back, and propped his boots on the edge. He allowed his gaze to rake her once more, as though committing her beauty to memory while he concentrated on the task at hand, which was informing her of her future place in his life. He took a long swallow of whiskey, then began. “First of all, two weeks from Sunday is fine, but the wedding will take place here, at Jasmine Hill, in the formal gardens. My mother is still in Europe, but I’ve other relatives—uncles, aunts, and cousins—I’ll want to invite. Then there are neighbors, friends. I don’t want anyone thinking this marriage is anything I’m ashamed of, which is what it would look like if we just went to the parson and said our vows. I do not want any hint that I was, shall we say, coerced into this marriage? The story will be that we met at the Rose Ball and fell madly, hopelessly in love on sight. We refused to let anything stand in the way of our getting married as quickly as possible.”

  “But—” she tried to protest, but he shook his head and held up a hand for silence.

  “Never interrupt me when I’m speaking, Erin. You need to learn that I demand respect in this house, from all my servants, and—”

  “Now you wait a damn minute!” At that, Erin leaped to her feet, slinging the glass to the floor, neither noticing nor caring that wine splashed across the delicate pink skirt to stain. She was across the room in a flash, slamming her hands down on his desk, as she cried, “I am not going to be one of your servants, Ryan Youngblood. I am going to be your wife, which means I also demand respect. Furthermore, I don’t appreciate your sitting there like some kind of…of potentate, telling me you’ve made all the decisions about the wedding, who is to be invited, and the lies you plan to tell.”

  His eyes narrowed as he waited for her to finish her diatribe, then he continued calmly as though she hadn’t spoken at all. “You will be accorded the rights and privileges of my wife by my servants, but you will serve me as they do. You’ll give me pleasure, and you’ll bear my children.”

  “Oh, I’ll have your children,” she was quick to assure him, “because I want them, too, but as for your ‘pleasure,’ I suggest you find yourself the mistress you were looking for when you found out I wasn’t available!”

  “A mistress?” He raised an eyebrow mockingly. “My dear, I don’t think you understand at all what I’m saying. I won’t need a mistress. I’ll have you. You’ll just be serving a dual purpose, however, when you bear my children.”

  Erin exploded, “You are mad!”

  “No,” he corrected with a gloating smile, “I’m afraid you’re the one who’s crazy, Erin, if you thought for one minute you were going to move into this house and make any demands. Get this straight—” He stood and leaned across the desk, only inches from her face. “Do you really think the only reason I agreed to marry you is because of your mother’s threat to scream to the entire state of Virginia that I tried to seduce her virginal daughter? Are you that naive? The fact of the matter is, I don’t give a damn what she says, and when you come to know me better, you’ll find out I don’t give a damn what anybody says.

  “The reason I am marrying you,” he rushed on, nostrils flaring, enraged eyes locked with hers, “is because you drive me crazy wanting you, and marriage seems to be the only way I’ll have you, and believe me, my darling, I’ll have you any time I want you, anywhere, any place! And the sooner you understand that and accept it, the better off you’ll be.”

  She slapped him.

  Hard.

  The sound of flesh striking flesh resounded in the silent wake of his harsh avowal.

  For an instant, he merely maintained his position, not flinching or moving. Then, with a quick movement, he grabbed both her wrists and pulled her roughly across the desk. Papers, pens, books, everything went scattering to the floor as he dragged her, kicking and flailing, into his arms.

  “Bastard!” she screamed, kicking her legs wildly as he held her wrists tightly with one hand behind her back.

  Abruptly, he rolled her over to imprison her viselike with one arm, as his hand moved quickly between her thighs. He began to massage, lightly at first, in a circular motion. Feeling her legs become limber as delicious ecstasy began to needle, hearing the pleasured moan she could not hold back, he began to press harder with his fingertips, moving up and down.

  Erin was on fire. As much as she despised him at that moment, there was no way she could resist, or fight, the betrayal of her body as it yielded to arousal. Her head lay back upon the desk, and faintly she was thankful he still held her one arm, lest she experience the further humiliation of wrapping her own about his neck and clinging to him. Closing her eyes, her breath was hot and ragged, bosom heaving with the thunderous pounding of her heart.

  Ryan saw the way her nipples hardened, visibly straining against the thin fabric of her bodice. She wore no stays, no corset, unnecessary for a body so perfectly sculptured. He licked his lips in hungry anticipation.

  The exquisite torture he was inflicting upon her was almost more than he could bear. God, how he wanted her. It was only with the greatest of self-control that he was able to resist the temptation to heave her up onto the desk and take her then and there. Instead, he methodically continued the savage, heated torment, wanting her to learn, once and for all, that he was truly her master, and she no more than a love slave.

  She began to undulate her hips in complete surrender, all the while cursing and hating herself for being so weak.

  Again, mustering every shred of self-control he possessed, Ryan sucked in a ragged breath and abruptly set her on her feet. He gave her bottom a pat and declared with mock seriousness, “Hey, for a second there, I almost forgot we’ve got to preserve your precious virtue, Miss Sterling.

  “But don’t worry,” he goaded further, “I’ve got a good memory, in case you don’t. Should you be so unwise as to forget your place and lose that temper of yours again, I’ll remember what it takes to calm you down.”

  She whirled away, embarrassed, humiliated, hating him and wanting him all in one breath, one heartbeat. She smoothed her skirt, at the same time attempting to soothe her dignity by remaining silent. God, there was so much she wanted to vent at that moment—call him ugly names, make vile accusations, utter threats of violence. Yet she resisted as she managed to hold her head up and walk swiftly, silently toward the door.

  “Yes, I think it’s best you do take your leave now,” he called after her, amused at the way she was obviously struggling to keep from exploding all over again. “So, I’ll send Ebner to get your trunks, two weeks from Saturday,
and I’ll write your mother a note as to what time I’ll set the wedding. I’ll see you then, Erin…my dear.”

  She made her way out of the house, ignoring the opulent furnishings, the wide-eyed stares of several of the downstairs servants, and the butler, who discreetly glanced away as she passed.

  Outside, in the golden haze of sunset against the shadowed trees to the west, Erin broke into a run across the velvet green lawn. Reaching her horse, she waved away the obliging groom who had hurried to help her mount. She’d ridden bareback, as usual, and hurled herself up angrily on the horse’s back.

  Digging in her heels, she set the horse into a full gallop. Down the entrance road she charged, hair coming undone to whip wildly about her feverish face. Ahead, she saw the gate, a slave moving to open it to set her free to the curving road that would eventually take her from Jasmine Hill boundaries. Instead, feeling driven to escape Youngblood soil without delay, she took a shortcut, reining her horse to cross the wide span of lawn. Without hesitation, she urged him to jump the split-rail fence.

  Erin was so mad she gritted her teeth till her jaw ached. Damn him, she wished she could forget the whole thing but knew that wasn’t possible. She had to go through with it for her mother’s sake, as well as her new devotion to the Free Soilers. Those considerations were tantamount.

  Finally slowing the horse to a comfortable canter, she was struck by the realization that she hadn’t felt terror this time when Ryan touched her. Only anger. And, yes, pleasure, she had to admit. The memories of Zachary’s abuse had not returned to haunt her. As she thought about it, it became easy to understand how Ryan had only been salvaging his pride. What a blow it must have been to a man so strong-willed to be forced into a marriage he didn’t want. She also admitted to being partially responsible, even though her mother had done the actual “persuading.” After all, she and Letty had talked about how she should make him so crazy wanting her, he’d propose. Wasn’t that her motivation for meeting him when he’d asked her to?