He ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t imagine all those years without Emma. He’d die in prison overworked and unloved.
His head pounded as if he had been struck with a sledgehammer. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Thinking negative thoughts wasn’t going to help him one bit.
His mind snapped back to thinking about Emma. She was a bright spot in his life, a candle burning in a snowstorm. She was so unlike the other clients he had serviced. She didn’t order him around, didn’t put on airs, and act superior. She had made him a peach pie for God sakes.
She did more than treat him kindly, she did more than treat him with respect…she treated him like an equal. He warmed at the thought. Would he ever feel her arms around him again? He imagined her touch, recalled the scent of her hair. It would get him through the night.
Hopefully his situation wouldn’t look so dire when the sun rose. He couldn’t believe it. Emma held the key to his heart and the key to unlocking his cell.
She would soon discover he had been taken to jail. If an officer didn’t talk to her in the morning, she’d eventually wonder why he didn’t meet her that night as they had planned. Would she care he was locked up?
Yes, deep down he knew she would care. Not only because she missed his attention, but she wouldn’t want him wrongly accused and imprisoned.
She was tender and innocent. She still believed in right and wrong. It was a breath of fresh air to be with a woman not jaded or corrupted by society.
She was his only hope at freedom. The courts only put stock in what white people claimed. Would the testimony of the woman he loved be enough to save him? Sometimes it took more than words. Sometimes it took money. If circumstances were different and she had the means to pay the necessary people, perhaps she could secure his release.
He hated to put all that pressure on her. She was still fragile, barely out of mourning. She needed to keep her savings to support herself. Would she try to find a way to set him free?
Could she save him?
Chapter 11
Emma heated the leftover coffee from last night and poured herself a cup. Sitting at the table, she cut herself a small piece of peach pie. It wasn’t a nutritious breakfast, but it was delicious. The flaky crust and sugary peaches made her mouth rejoice.
How many simple pleasures had she missed over the years? She was alone. No one was going to criticize her diet. She cut herself another small piece.
A knock at the door startled her. She didn’t get many visitors and certainly not at this early hour. She patted her hair it was probably a mess.
She opened the door. A police officer stood on her porch. Her heart tilted and her whole world felt off balance. Her vision grew fuzzy. She grabbed the door frame. Nails slid down the wood and she crumpled to the floor.
“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you all right?”
Emma blinked. The officer kneeled beside her, fanning her face. “Do I need to get the doctor?”
“No,” Emma said weakly. She sat up and the officer put a hand on her back. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see a police officer. The last time the police visited me they told me my husband had been killed.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t have dire news.” He helped her to her feet. “I just have a couple questions for you.”
Emma nodded. She had no idea what the questions would be concerning. After all, she had practically hid herself from society for a year and half.
The officer helped her to her feet. “Do you know a big colored man named Frederick?”
Why was he asking her that? Was Frederick in trouble? An image of his beautiful body swinging from a rope came to mind and she pushed it away.
“Yes, sir. But not very well.” She swirled her tongue in her mouth to generate saliva.
“He said he worked for you last night.”
“He fixed my barn roof. I held the lantern for him.”
“I see. Would you come to the police station with me and write a statement?”
“A statement? What is going on?”
“Did you hear about the fire over on Nelson Street last night?”
“No. But I did smell smoke when I went to bed.”
“A barn burned down. Mr. Hawthorne swears he saw this Frederick light the fire.”
“That is not true!”
The officer’s expression remained cold and indifferent. “Well, it will be his word against yours for the time being, ma’am. We are investigating.”
“Do you want to see the roof?” Emma asked, her voice louder than she intended.
“No need. I glanced at it before knocking. Please come down to the station with me, Mrs. Bennett. We are going to need your statement.”
“Yes, certainly. But…” She paused trying to find the right word. She couldn’t go with him immediately. “I have an errand to run, and then I’ll be right there.” Emma felt her anger rise at the caviler attitude of the policeman toward Frederick’s freedom. She had a feeling he wouldn’t care if Frederick was in jail forever.
The officer nodded. “That’s fine, ma’am. No rush. The man’s in a cell. I am sorry I startled you.” Emma forced herself to stay still as she watched the policeman leave. Then she sprang into action.
Emma’s mind raced. She changed into a more fashionable dress, repinned her hair, and hurried out the door. But she wasn’t going to the police station. She needed to talk to Mrs. Dimshire first. She arrived at Mrs. Dimshire’s elegant residence in record time and was shown into the parlor.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she waited. The poor woman was probably in the middle of her breakfast. She had explained to the maid that this was urgent.
Mrs. Dimshire strode into the room with quick but dignified steps. The woman never seemed flustered. “What is it, Mrs. Bennett? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She sounded concerned and not at all annoyed by the interruption.
Emma took a deep breath. She glanced around making sure none of the servants were nearby. “It is Frederick,” she whispered.
“Oh? That’s a fine name.” The lady leaned back a little and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Not what you expected?”
“No. Nothing like that. He was arrested last night. Falsely accused of starting a fire.”
“Oh my. Well, we can’t have our lover locked away for several years now, can we?”
Our lover. Emma’s stomach knotted. She wanted Frederick all to herself.
Mrs. Dimshire smiled. “I will get my coat. This should only take a few minutes.” Confidence, power, grace, and feminine wiles accompanied her everywhere like a shadow. Emma didn’t doubt Mrs. Dimshire could persuade the police to release Frederick.
But could she talk some sense into Mr. Hawthorne? Had the man purposely accused Frederick or had it been random? Did he know more than he let on?
“Mr. Hawthorne was the one who claimed Frederick started the fire,” Emma explained on their way to the police station. “I’m afraid he knows about…”
Mrs. Dimshire’s eyebrows floated for a second before falling back in place. She patted Emma’s hand. “We will handle one crisis at a time.”
Emma walked into the police station and her heart froze, a thousand icy needles jabbing into her chest. Mr. Hawthorne sat at the small table in the office, legs crossed. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I just finished my statement,” he said. “We don’t want any more fires now, do we? You’re lucky he didn’t burn your house down. He has a history of reckless nighttime activities.” The look in his eyes carried more threat than his words.
She balled a hand in the folds of her dress. How could he say that with a straight face? Mrs. Dimshire stiffened, her mouth slightly parted. For once the old lady was shaken.
“I am here to write my statement,” Emma said, directing her speech to the officer. Ignoring Mr. Hawthorne seemed the best course of action. He was dangerous and she did not want to provoke him.
“Yes, ma’am,” the officer sa
id. The officer walked from around his desk and over to Mr. Hawthorne. “I will take that paper if you are done, sir,” he said.
Mr. Hawthorne handed it to him. “I’m just doing my civic duty,” he said, grabbing his hat and heading for the door. “I’d watch what I decided to swear to if I were you, Mrs. Bennett.”
Her blood, already stewing, reached boiling point. The lid blew off the pot and she let her anger spill out, shredding every ounce of self-control. “Watch what I swear to! You wrote nothing but lies!” She breathed rapidly, her pulse working overtime to keep up.
Mr. Hawthorne didn’t even flinch. He acted completely unaffected as if he had gone temporarily deaf and hadn’t heard her. She seethed. Hank would have been flabbergasted and soundly chastised her. She wanted Mr. Hawthorne to yell. Her hackles were up ready for a fight. He walked out the door, hat in his hand, not even offering another word.
“The gall of that man,” she said in a huff. He’d probably set the fire himself.
Mrs. Dimshire rubbed her back. “Relax, my dear. Sit down and think about your statement.” Her voice was kind, but it carried the tinge of authority. Emma obeyed.
The officer handed Emma a piece of paper and a pen. “Thank you,” she whispered.
The officer nodded. He flicked an uneasy glance at Mrs. Dimshire. “How can I help you, ma’am?”
“You can tell me what evidence you have against Frederick,” she said, strong, demanding, and almost accusatory.
The officer rubbed the side of his chin. “Well, we really don’t have any evidence. At least not at the moment.”
“I see. So it is just Mr. Hawthorne’s word against Mrs. Bennett’s. How do you expect to build a case based on that? I know Frederick personally, and I will vouch for his character.”
The officer’s cheeks turned pink.
“I know the judge,” Mrs. Dimshire continued. “I’m sure he will not be pleased you are wasting his time.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the officer said sheepishly. “But I can’t just dismiss Mr. Hawthorne’s account.”
Emma stood and thrust her statement in the officer’s face. “Here! Read mine. And I have evidence. You’ve seen my roof. What more proof do you want?”
The officer swallowed hard. “He could have worked on your roof earlier. There was plenty of time for him to work for you and set the fire. After all the barn was just around the corner.”
Mrs. Dimshire walked over to the officer and smiled. “You do not have to call Mr. Hawthorne a liar. It was dark; maybe he believes he really saw Frederick. I know there are many men who would match his description. Just go down to the docks.” Her voice had softened to a smooth, conciliatory tone. She was trying a different approach. “Just kindly inform Mr. Hawthorne you did not have enough evidence to put Frederick on trial and release him.”
The officer rubbed his eyebrow. The three people looked at each other, waiting for something to happen. If the officer didn’t release Frederick, Mrs. Dimshire would convince the judge to drop the case—hopefully. Emma tapped her fingers on her chest. The longer Frederick was in jail the longer they were apart and her body was already ravenous for his touch.
They couldn’t give Mr. Hawthorne the satisfaction of a trial. Oh Lord. Was that his plan? Was Mr. Hawthorne going to tell the whole courtroom that she and Frederick…?
“All right,” the officer said at last. Emma let out a heavy sigh.
Thank God.
The two women waited and when Frederick walked into the office his eyes widened, but he did not say a word. His hands were thrust in the pockets of his coat and he rested his weight on his right foot.
“You’re free to go, boy,” the officer said. “But I will be keeping an eye on you.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Frederick said.
Emma opened the door, and Frederick bolted outside as if he was afraid the officer was going to change his mind.
Mrs. Dimshire strolled outside with her usual confidence and grace. The shine in her eyes told Emma she was proud of her persuasive prowess. “Frederick,” Mrs. Dimshire called sweetly.
Frederick turned around, politely averting his eyes. “Yes, ma’am?”
“They treat you well in jail?”
Frederick glanced down at his clothes and pulled on the bottom of his coat to straighten it. “Yes and the coffee was tolerable.” He laughed as if he was trying to cheer himself up. “Thank you for securing my release. I hope it didn’t cost you too much.”
Mrs. Dimshire tilted her head and gave him a flirtatious smile. “Nothing at all. Of course I would have greased some palms if need be.”
Frederick blushed and bowed his head. “Thank you, ma’am.” His voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper.
“I heard the Comet will be docked for a few days. If you are looking for work, I’m sure I can find something for you to do.”
Emma’s stomach rolled into a tight ball. Jealousy ripped through her. She didn’t want Frederick sleeping with Mrs. Dimshire.
“I’m afraid I haven’t finished helping Mrs. Bennett.”
“Ah, another time then.” She nodded to Emma with a sparkle in her eye. “Good day.”
Emma wanted to reach out and grab Frederick’s hand and pull her to him, but she couldn’t do that in public. It was shocking; Mrs. Dimshire had acted so brazenly. People might have seen. Of course if they did, they probably wouldn’t have the gumption to say anything. Mrs. Dimshire was a formidable woman.
“Ma’am,” Frederick said, drawing her attention. “May I go to the Comet for a little while before coming to work? I’d like to see my brother. I’m sure he’s worried about me.”
“Yes, that will be fine. I’ll be waiting for you.” Her thighs clenched in anticipation. By the time the sun went down she’d be wild with desire.
Before her thoughts dissipated under his skilled touch she needed to rehearse her speech for turning their tryst into something more serious, more permanent. Delivering those words in a convincing manner would be a performance of a lifetime. Would Frederick believe her?
* * * *
Emma opened the back door, grabbed Frederick’s hand, and pulled him inside. “No playing around,” she said. “We’re going to the bedroom.”
Frederick beamed. “Yes, ma’am.” He stepped on the heels of his shoes walking out of them.
She helped him wrest the corset and dress from her body, leaving them in a violet puddle on the floor. “Faster,” she breathed. She couldn’t wait to feel his muscled chest against her body.
Frederick lifted her into his arms as if she didn’t weigh more than a daisy and carried her to the bed. A little disgruntled, she realized she was still clad in her thin silk camisole and drawers. Emma tugged at the buttons on his vest, tugged at the collar of his coat, and tugged at his trousers. He leaned over her and captured her mouth as he shed his coat, vest, and then his shirt.
Heart pounding, Emma struggled to unfasten his trousers and then she pushed them down, freeing his arousal.
“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” Frederick said huskily.
His breath tickled her ear. “You promised me you’d come back.” She ravished his lips.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked when she came up for air.
Emma stared at his nakedness and then at her undergarments. “We can’t do anything until I’m undressed.”
Frederick laughed and helped her out of her camisole and drawers. Pausing, he quickly put on his rubber condom. She reached up and pulled him to her, guiding him on top of her. His cock brushed against her entrance and he groaned.
Her hands explored his arms and back. “Let my hair down,” she panted.
“But it’s so lovely.” Despite his compliment, he obeyed, running his fingers through her hair undoing all the pins she had so carefully placed.
She arched into his touch rubbing against him. “You promised me a new position,” she said with brazen glee.
“Yes, I did.” He held onto her and rolled so s
he was on top. “Sit on top of me.” She rose up, looking into his gorgeous eyes. He gently parted her legs until her thighs lay on either side of his hips. He reached forward and cupped her lower cheeks with his large hands, guiding her up. He held his erection upright, the head pressed against her entrance. “Farther down.”
At first, she took him in just a little and experimented with lifting up and down at this new angle. It felt different…but good, as her body stretched around him, welcoming his cock inside. From the pained look of concentration on Frederick’s face, he wished she’d quit dillydallying. He kept his body still underneath her but arched his back, tossing his dark head back into her pillow. “Emma, you’re killing me. Please. More.”
The shock of it—of being filled by him in this way—almost overrode the thrill of being the one in charge. For the first time in Emma’s life, she was giddy during love play. She began to ride him deeper, faster, each raising and lowering of her hips making his eyes burn darker with passion. Passion she wanted him to feel only for her. At last, she had to have his full length inside her. She slid all the way down and moaned overcome with pleasure. Now she understood the reason for his urgency. The sensation was heavenly!
She rocked her hips forward, wet silk sliding over hot steel. Even though she sat atop him, his weight inside her felt heavy, complete. There was no part of her he did not reach. He lifted his hips slightly and changed the angle and she wanted to roar. Instead she leaned her hands on his chest and mewled. They set a comfortable rhythm. The longer they rocked, the deeper their connection. They hadn’t spoken a word but she felt his heat—his rough and tender touch. That was a language of its own.
One of his hands left her hip and brushed across her breasts. “Oh, more.” He played with her nipple. Her pleasure steadily built. She rocked faster, opening herself so his thrusts went deeper. The pressure built until she wanted to scream. Legs trembling, she bit her lip to hold the scream back and rode him into a fervent bliss. Her release shook her so hard she doubled over gasping Frederick’s name.
His long, low moan made her soul rejoice. He went stiff, his brown chest taut and coated with a fine sheen of sweat. She watched the ecstasy swell over him, and reveled in the knowledge she had given him that. And he had again given her the attention she craved, satisfying her body.
Midnight Caller (Moonlight Romance) Page 6