Southern Legacy: Completed Version

by Jerri Hines

  “It was not my intent to keep Madeline from you,” Elizabeth explained. “I worried about her because she is so sensitive. Of course, I would never keep a child from her mother.”

  “As I do not want to keep you from my daughter,” Jo relented. The poor thing seemed quite upset. “Your care for her is evident.”

  The children loved being outdoors, but for the last two days, it had rained…and rained. The room had become their world. Pushing back errant strands of hair from her face, Jo began to pick up the toys.

  Stepping on one of Percival’s toy soldiers, she heard a crunch. She picked up her foot. To her dismay, she had crushed it soundly. Percival was going to be upset. He knew every piece he had.

  She wanted to cry. Already her son was distraught and it was all her fault. Why had she pressed him while he was playing with his soldiers…why? She should have made light of Percival’s play. How confusing the war must be on the young boy.

  It had not stopped her. When Madeline tried to grab one of her brother’s men, Percival grabbed it back. “No, Maddy, no. Momma, make Maddy put back my Rebel soldier!”

  “Can she not play with you?” Jo asked.

  Percival shook his head. “No, she doesn’t like to die. She cries.”

  “Percival! Don’t be mean to your sister.”

  “I’m playing Father,” he announced proudly and held one of the figures over his head. “He’s the greatest officer in all the war. I’m going to run over all of ’em Rebs!”

  Taken back for the moment, she wasn’t certain she had heard him correctly. “Your daddy was a brave and true soldier…a hero, Percival, but aren’t you forgetting he was a Confederate?”

  “No, Momma. Father was in the Navy. He says the war is almost over and the South is going to lose.”

  She knelt beside him and took one of the figures in her hand. She smiled at her son. “You are talking of your new father, but you should never forget your real daddy, Percival. He was courageous and…”

  “Father said he was.” Percival reached for the toy in his mother’s hand. “But Father is my real daddy. I know, for he told me.”

  Heaving a weighty sigh, she pressed, “You’re mistaken, Percival. You may want him to be, but your father died…”

  All her resolutions to maintain a positive approach when dealing with the different sides of the war dissipated. Her loyalty to the South…to Wade…had not faded. She realized the futility of arguing with an almost four-year-old. Moreover, she would be attempting to convince him the man who had just proclaimed himself to be his father…the man he worshiped…had lied to him.

  Ignoring her common sense, she endeavored into reasoning with a child too young to understand the concept. All he understood was his mother’s attempt to take away what he wanted most dearly—a father…his real father. The man who died years before held little meaning to him, only talk in the empty air.

  Soon, the argument spiraled out of control. Percival was adamant in his claim of who his real father was and Jo just as adamant as to who he was not. A senseless, meaningless quarrel. Another time, another place, she would have handled everything differently, but she, too, was a child clinging to a semblance of the past.

  Opening up the toy chest, Jo leaned over to take the figure out of Percival’s hand. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it isn’t fair to your daddy. Until you can…”

  The next instant he slapped her; the next, she slapped him back…not hard, but reactionary. He stared blankly at her—a look she would never forget. He cried and ran blindly out of the room.

  Jo had made no attempt to rush after her son. She was well aware where he had headed. She well imagined her mother-in-law would be up shortly to inform her of her shortcomings. She had sent Mary down to check on her son.

  Her maid had returned saying he was with Cullen. Her heart sank. He was safe, but the world she was so frantically trying to adhere to was slipping from her hands. She had no idea what she was going to do.

  “Josephine.”

  When she looked up, Jo saw Elizabeth enter the room. Outstretching her arms, Madeline ran over and hugged her tightly.

  “I hope you don’t mind, Josephine,” Elizabeth said in a nervous manner. “I have arranged a small surprise for you.”

  “Surprise?”

  Elizabeth lowered her gaze down to Madeline. “I wanted to do something nice for you. You have been through so much. Being thrown into prison…I could never have survived. I’m not that strong.”

  “If you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk of it.”

  “Of course.” Elizabeth smiled and looked back up. “I was hoping I could watch the children for you this evening…just for a little while so you can take a nice long bath.”

  “That sounds so wonderful, but…”

  “It is set. I had Mary draw you a bath,” Elizabeth went on. “If you don’t mind, I will take Madeline downstairs. Mother has missed her. Percival is already with Cullen. You can enjoy a little time to yourself.”

  Jo hesitated, but decided it would be for the best…if she could trust Elizabeth.

  * * * *

  In the bathing chamber across the hall from her room, Jo sank into the tepid water. A brief reprieve, she had time to think clearly. Admonishing herself greatly, she had let her emotions get the best of her.

  How had her life come to this point? How she missed Wade! Wade had taken care of her every need, loved her and cared for her. He had known of her weaknesses and accepted them. She wiped back the tears that escaped down her cheeks. She didn’t have time for self-pity.

  But…had she not done the same when she had lost Cullen? Cullen—who she had loved with the whole of her heart—had married another to save him. Dare she hope to rekindle that love?

  A long-buried longing had re-emerged with Cullen’s appearance. Along with this feeling came a sadness. The realization that time had changed his love for her and replaced it with a hatred toward her. He had become vengeful—intent only on making her pay for having a life with his cousin.

  Cullen had relented to let her have her children in her room, but she could not live this way for much longer. The question lay not of what she had to do, but how. For her own sanity, Jo knew she had to leave, but she was trapped.

  She had not asked, but it was apparent even while she lived at Magnolia Bluff that her fortune was lost. What little she had went toward Magnolia Bluff. Whatever happened to her, it must survive. Wade had left Magnolia Bluff to Percival in his will—the ultimate declaration that Percival was truly his son.

  Jo had never complained at Magnolia Bluff and missed it terribly. They didn’t have much over the last couple of years, but she was content with the children. They were happy. It was home. A home they couldn’t return to, not with Harry Lee out there somewhere.

  Here—here she was a foreigner—a hated foreigner—but whatever she had to endure, she would do so to keep her children and protect them at all cost. Silently, Jo swore one day her children would be able to return to Magnolia Bluff.

  Mary knocked softly and entered. She placed the contents of her arms down on the table in front of Jo. “Mrs. Smythe, I have some clean clothing I believe will suffice.”

  “Thank you,” Josephine said. “That will be all.”

  She exited her much-needed bath and toweled down. She caught sight of the lotions on the shelf. She rubbed the lotion into her freshly bathed skin and savored the sumptuousness of her bath.

  Looking at the nightdress Mary left, she wondered where she had obtained the apparel. They looked familiar: a white silk nightdress with a matching wrap and new soft and dainty undergarments. Slipping it over her head, she let it slither down her body, clinging to her curves in the most provocative manner.

  A slit up the side of the gown displayed her naked leg. She remembered…it had been part of her trousseau she had picked out when she thought she was to marry Cullen. He must have saved her trunks…which meant she might have more of her belongings.

  Jo dried her l
ong, raven hair until it was damp and then brushed it until it glistened in the candlelight. It fell well beyond her waist, so she left it down until she could have Mary braid it. Tying the wrap about her, she walked back into her room.

  With her hand on the handle, she told herself she would make it right with Percival. She wanted nothing more than to hug her son and simply put the incident behind them.

  She opened the door. Immediately, all the confidence she had garnered vanished. The room had been cleaned…moreover, it was immaculate. The floor was bare of toys and clutter. The crib had been moved—all evidence of her children had disappeared. She had been tricked!

  Seething, she turned back toward the door, but it was blocked. Much to her consternation, Cullen leaned casually against the doorframe.

  Indignant, she cried, “Get out of my way!”

  “I think not, my dear.” He walked into the room and shut the door. “It’s time we talk.”

  Venting her despair, she pressed, “Where are my children? What cruel trick have you played upon me?”

  “Josephine, truly, you couldn’t possibly think you could camp out in your room forever. Don’t blame Elizabeth about Madeline. I told her to do so. The small one is being quite well looked after. Several people have missed her terribly.”

  Jo whirled around to face him, but immediately she realized he had no intention of letting her leave the room. She caught her breath. He was too close. His unbuttoned shirt hung loose over his trousers, revealing his hard, muscular chest. She took a step back.

  “She is mine!”

  “Calm yourself, Josephine. No one is taking your children. I tried to give you time to realize that your children still hold you in their hearts. You can’t imagine that anyone could ever replace someone so dear.”

  Her eyes burned with the sting of tears. “Don’t do this to me, Cullen. I understand well how much you hate me. Now you have the power to inflict enormous pain. You have my children.”

  “I have no desire to cause you pain, Josephine.” He threw his hands in exasperation. “Can you not see that I have tried to give you time to come to grips with everything around you? Do you not realize I know how much you have lost?”

  “You are concerned about what I have lost?” she quipped sharply. “You who plotted to take my son from me? You who told him that you were his real father? How could you do such a thing?”

  “I talked to him before we married. He asked if I was to be a real father to him. I answered him truthfully. He is a child who can’t understand fully.”

  “No!” she said adamantly. “Do not skim on the surface of honesty. You have made it clear to everyone that Percival is your son!”

  “For your information, only a few trusted souls know the truth from me,” he said in a voice void of inflection. “Though I bear responsibility for your predicament, there is nothing I can say that will undo what has been done. I will not deny he has my look, but people can only speculate. Wade made certain of that.

  “He made it clear to everyone that Percival was his son. If you fear he will be labeled a bastard, it will never happen. Wade gave him his name and by leaving Percival Magnolia Bluff, he left no question.” He moved to her side. His fingertips cupped her chin and he turned her head so she faced him. “I won’t take that from Wade. I told Percival what a great man his daddy was, if you must know. I told him his daddy did what most would not and I owe him dearly.”

  Jo looked in his eyes. He reached back and ran his fingers through her hair. Immediately, she was aware of a warming sensation that surged through her body, spawned only by his simple touch. It was too much to bear.

  “Wade loved Percival, Cullen…”

  “I know,” he whispered, so close she felt his breath against her skin. “I realize he loved you, also, but what gnaws at my soul is you loved him in return.”

  Lowering her gaze, she couldn’t look at him. His words could not be denied. What did he want her to say—that Wade was a ghost that stood between them? She looked back up at him. “I loved him, Cullen, but—”

  He placed his finger over her lips. “Don’t say anything…not yet. I have something to show you.” He reached for her hand; they walked across the room. As he drew back the large curtain that hid a door, he asked, “Have you not wondered where this door led?”

  She would have been foolish not to realize it was connected to his room. Husband and wives having separate bedrooms were unheard of in the South. She had held the belief she had been placed beside Cullen for appearance’s sake.

  Opening it wide, he gestured for her to enter. It was a lovely room, rather large with a fire burning brightly in the hearth. A gold-plated mirror hung over the fireplace. The walls were a deeper, darker blue than her own. A finely carved writing table angled near the window.

  The aroma of a warm dinner hung in the air, hovering over a table set for two in the far corner. Close by was the huge four-post bed. It had been turned down.

  He came up behind her before she could utter her confusion. His arms wrapped around her waist, he pushed back her hair and kissed her neck.

  Startled, she turned in his arms. Confusion reflected in her eyes.

  “The children have been taken care of for the evening.” He reached over and caressed her face gently. “I wanted this night to be about us. I know you believe I have set to punish you for some unknown reason, but, in truth, I wanted to give you space to come to terms with what had happened to you. I was told it would take time for you to recover, but I don’t think there is any more time without losing you. I don’t want to lose you, Josephine.”

  “Cullen, I don’t know what to say,” she gasped. “I thought you hated me.”

  “Never. I have never stopped loving you,” he said in a ragged whisper. “You need to know everything that I have held within me. The torture I have endured first of losing you…and now with you so close. I wanted to tell you and then everything became so chaotic. I…Oh, Josephine.”

  Her stunned expression shattered into one of astonished surprise. They stared at each other for a suspended moment. Cullen lowered his mouth on hers. She abandoned all restraint and gave herself up to her long suppressed desire.

  Her breath caught as his kiss deepened. After so many years apart—all the protest to the contrary—emotions so long restrained, repelled for self-preservation—unbridled passion was unleashed in the night much like a tide that broke against a dam.

  Josephine was lost in his musky scent; his hard body pressed against her. Barely breathing, she looked at him. Reaching up, she touched his face to outline it with her fingers. He was real…it wasn’t a dream.

  He took her hand and kissed it. “Forgive me, my love. Pray, forgive me. I love you. I need you.”

  Her eyes locked with his, as if frozen in time. Both afraid to move, to breathe for fear all would vanish before their eyes. He cupped her face gently in his hands.

  “I have seen you every time I closed my eyes. Your face has haunted me. So beautiful, so lovely, laughing up at me. You so innocently trusting me. I would awaken with the realization that you lay beyond my grasp. I allowed jealousy to gnaw at me. I told myself all I wanted was to have you back in my arms just once.

  “Before every battle, I would dream of you. Your lips on mine, warm and eager. I have a thousand visions of you in my heart. I clung to them.

  “Now, God help me, I have tried to convince myself it is all for the boy—that part of me that has clung to you was dead—that same idiotic part that told me I could live without you the day you married Wade. I can’t. I’ve tried and find I’m only half a man. Forgive me, Josephine.”

  Josephine’s breath left her in a sudden gasp. She leaned up to him and whispered, “Love me, Cullen. Don’t let me go.”

  She kissed him fervently, caught in a fierce tide of passion. The result was inevitable. The kiss served as a bridge from yesterday to this moment. He swept her in his arms and laid her on his bed. All else was forgotten except their need for each other, a merger o
f man and wife, heart and soul together as the years melted away.

  The crackling fire burned. He stopped kissing her for a moment, long enough to soak in the sight of the woman who had haunted his dreams for so long. He took the hem of her nightdress and peeled it from her body.

  Her raven hair shimmered down in waves over her bare skin, enticing a tightening in his loins. He touched her, sliding his hand downward over her body and then sweeping it upward between her thighs, invading her most sensitive places.

  Her breath caught as her hand fluttered over his tautly muscled chest. She moved her hand slowly down to his hard shaft and closed her fingers ever so gently around it. His breath caught on her caress, driving him crazy with need.

  “Slow, my darling, slow. I want to savor every moment.”

  Leaning on his elbow, he touched her breasts; his fingers circled them, pulled at the tingling tips. He dipped down and his mouth claimed her nipple, intensifying the insatiable hunger deep within her.

  She encouraged his assault. He lowered his kisses, claiming her body as his domain. His lips burned with the flame of desire over her stomach and hips, her thighs and mound. Soon she rocked with an unbearable throb, writhing with a sweeping sensation that coursed through her body.

  She caught his shoulders and drew him up to her.

  “I want you, Josephine, only you,” he murmured huskily.

  The whole of her body burned with a desire that he had ignited. “Take me. Don’t torture me more. I need you…you…Cullen…please.”

  He answered her plea. His naked body covered her and she rose up against him. Their fevered kisses blended as their own bodies became one.

  He entered her; his harsh breathing rasped near her ear, while her own quickening gasps escaped involuntarily from her inner being. She felt his hardness press against her pulse and her senses reeled in ecstasy. He moved in a rhythm that she matched. She knew this and wanted it. Throwing her head back, she almost wept as his final thrust filled her. Waves of bliss suffused through her, but it was more than pleasure shared. He had reached into her very soul and reclaimed what had been lost from the years apart.