If it killed him, he silently swore, he was going to keep his distance from her. Until she had come to peace with Teddy’s death; until she had healed herself.
Until their child was born.
“You know, Ian, however you sit there blaming yourself, you didn’t cause this!”
Startled, he looked around. Julian had come out of Alaina’s room.
“She’s—”
“She’s doing well enough. But quit blaming yourself. God, Ian, if any of us could actually understand what causes these awful fevers, we could revolutionize medicine. Many doctors believe that fevers are carried on the air, and that the only defense against them is to cease breathing. Naturally, that’s a joke, since even we in medicine are aware that man must breathe to live.”
Ian shook his head with a weary sigh. “If I didn’t make her ill, I certainly contributed to the low spirits that made her so very vulnerable! There’s the matter of Teddy’s death, and now…”
“Now, Lincoln.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re disturbed because you’re not ready to resign your commission.”
Ian shook his head. “The most hot-blooded of my friends, fellow officers, and acquaintances are all treading carefully here. Virginia will lead the South, I think, and the talk in Virginia now is for moderation. But Florida—Florida hasn’t a moderate rock within the state! You know that as well as I do. When we left St. Augustine, your friend John, the state senator, was saying that some men were quietly going about beginning the preparations for a special legislative session to vote on the matter of secession just in case the elections came out badly!” He shook his head uneasily. “I keep telling myself that I don’t really know what I’ll do if Florida secedes. And yet, I can’t help it, Julian, I believe it is wrong for one person to own another, no matter what their differences in color, race or creed. No man should have the power to sell another’s wife—or child. And I do believe in the sanctity of the Union.”
“Your beliefs did not make your wife ill.”
“Mmm, but they won’t help her recover, either.”
“I’ve yet to see either of you cowed by any argument,” Julian pointed out. “Trust me, she’ll be ready to fight you again quite soon.”
Maybe. Ian rose, anguished by what he was about to say, yet certain that Alaina needed some time without him. “Julian, can you stay awhile longer?”
“Certainly. But—”
“I have to report back to duty, and Alaina can’t possibly accompany me now. I thought that perhaps in a month or so you and Jerome could bring her as far as St. Augustine, put her and Lilly aboard a steamer, and send her to Charleston. I’ll meet her there and we can spend a day with Brent and Sydney. A few days’ leave for me down to Charleston is far easier than getting extra time here. … I don’t want to take any more chances with her life, or that of the child.”
“As you wish. I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you, Julian. You’re quite an exceptional brother.”
Julian grinned wickedly. “Indeed I am. Thankfully, you didn’t beat me too mercilessly as a child.”
“I never beat you at all,” Ian protested.
“Well, there was that time you whacked me over the head in the yard with the oak branch.”
“You were two, I was three, and you had just bitten a chunk out of my calf! I still have the scar.”
Julian grimaced. “Well, all right, perhaps that’s a good point.” His grew serious once more. “When will you leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. Jerome plans on sailing his mother home; I’ll get a chance to say good-bye to her and Uncle James, since I don’t know when I’ll be back again.”
“Do you intend to at least say good-bye to your wife? By morning she should awake with a clear mind, rested at last.”
Ian nodded gravely. “Indeed, yes. I intend to say good-bye.”
Alaina came awake very slowly, aware of a bird singing from somewhere outside the house. She opened her eyes. To her amazement, they were no longer heavy, nor was it painful to open them. She blinked only briefly at the light that filtered in through her windows, spilling over the soft white cotton sheets on her bed and the embroidered gown she wore. She shifted her vision and saw a dark head bowed over a St. Augustine newspaper.
“Ian?” she mouthed.
“Alaina!”
The newspaper went down; the man stood. The eyes were the same—but he wasn’t Ian.
“Julian?” she murmured.
He sat by the bed, immediately feeling her forehead, her cheeks, her hands. He smiled with obvious pleasure. “Not a speck of fever left! Thank God my brother decided to trust me…. You have come around wonderfully.”
“What happened?” she asked him.
“You had an influenza. Exactly what it was, I haven’t the faintest idea—but please don’t go repeating that! What caused it, I cannot say; what aggravated it was your state of desolation and the fact that you hadn’t eaten much at all in the days preceding the onslaught of your illness. Then there was the babe….”
The way he said the words sent her heart into a quiver. She could scarcely believe the wave of anguish and regret that washed over her and she clutched his hand quickly. “Oh, dear God, I’ve killed it!”
He shook his head, squeezing her hand in turn. “No, no, Alaina. To the very best of my knowledge, your babe is coming along just fine. I felt movement just this morning.”
“You felt it… moving?”
He nodded. “Yes, of course. You’re halfway through now, Alaina. The young lad—or lass—is becoming quite strong. It’s fascinating, really, what we’re able to learn in medical school through deceased fetuses. Such a pity they are often in such abundance—”
He broke off, suddenly aware of the thoughtless direction of his chatter. “Sorry, Alaina, sorry. Naturally, of course, you were our primary concern. And now that you are beginning to look me directly in the eyes and make sense, I can tell you quite frankly that right up until last night, we had our doubts about your future! But you are a fighter, little sister-in-law. I’m quite grateful.”
“Apparently, Julian, I must be very grateful to you— and your family.”
“Ah, but it’s your family as well, isn’t it?” he queried her gently.
“A borrowed family,” she agreed.
“Not borrowed, for you are never to give us back,” he teased, smiling with good humor. “And you are carrying my blood relation inside you, Alaina, so therefore, at this moment—we are blood relations ourselves. How’s that?”
“Probably far kinder than I deserve, Julian,” she told him, trying to rise against the pillows. She was out of pain, but she felt she had no more strength than a newborn kitten. Julian saw her intent, though, and quickly rose to help her set up the pillow so that she could lean against it.
“Julian, how long have I been sick?” she asked him.
“Three days. Long enough to scare us all heartily.”
“Did anyone else become sick? Is … is Ian well?”
“Fit as a fiddle,” Julian assured her. He stood, pouring a glass of water from her bedside table. “Sip this slowly; we’ll work on Lilly’s island soup next—that will certainly give you your strength back.” She swallowed the cool, clear water and he took the glass back.
When Jen came in with a basin and washcloth and a hairbrush, Julian left the two women alone. Jen sat on the edge of the bed, eyes alight as she bent down to kiss Alaina on the forehead. “Good as new! You look wonderful.”
“Jen … I can’t possibly look good.”
“Ah, but you can. Alive is good,” Jen advised her gravely.
Alaina smiled. It did feel good to be alive and so well cared for. “Thank you so much—for everything,” she told Jen. “You were here through everything. You’re a wonderful nurse.”
“I had a great deal of help. I have a brother and a cousin who are doctors, and I grew up with Teela, who is all but an herb-goddess; however, she claims that she learned all a
bout the properties of plants from a good friend during the Seminole War. I’m still quite certain myself that half of what she accomplishes is magic from her soul.”
“There is magic in her soul—and in yours,” Alaina told her.
Jennifer gave her a fierce, quick hug. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Alaina. You are so very much Teddy’s daughter. And there was never a kinder man.”
There was a quick tap on the door, then it opened. Alaina was surprised to feel the way her heart quickened when she saw that it was Ian.
He was dressed in uniform. The blue of the United States army. The hesitant smile she had wanted to offer him failed. She remembered the rows and rows of soldiers in blue, coming toward her, rifles aimed.
Like the men who had killed Teddy.
She lowered her eyes quickly, trying to be rational herself before arguing with Ian. The entire army had not killed Teddy.
But Lincoln had been elected. Unless that was part of the terror of her nightmare as well.
“Alaina,” he murmured, coming to the bed and sitting on the opposite side from Jennifer. He seemed exceptionally striking to her that morning, so tall in the uniform and frock coat he wore so well, features cleanly shaven, very strong, dark hair still slightly damp as if he had just bathed and dressed in the last hour. He smelled pleasantly of soap, and of leather and good polish. His boots were shiny, his shoulders appeared incredibly broad, and she felt a strange tremor within her, a strange wanting…
And odd sense of jealousy, and of… possessiveness.
His eyes were sharp, searching, sweeping over Alaina, looking to Jennifer for confirmation that his wife was as well as she looked.
“She’s indeed out of the woods!” Jen said pleasantly, rising. “Well, I’ll leave you two.” She quietly walked out, closing the door behind her.
Ian reached out, touching Alaina’s cheek. There was something very gentle in the gesture—and something that made her uneasy as well.
“Ian.”
“You’re back with us,” he said quietly.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak for a minute. He had been with her constantly, she knew.
A tyrant. Making her take the steps to live.
“But now you’re leaving,” she whispered.
“I know that you want me to resign, but I’d rather not face a court-martial myself. When you’re in the military and instructed to report to duty by a certain date, you do so. I have to go back, Alaina, and you won’t be able to travel for some time; you have to regain your strength.”
She willed herself to look at him and do nothing more than nod, even though she hadn’t felt quite so bereft since she had first realized that her father had died. They had married, become lovers, and were expecting a child, and she knew that she would always be inextricably entwined in his life.
But he had removed himself somehow this morning. He had taken a step back and erected a wall between them, and she wondered if he had grown weary of her. Or if he pitied her, and simply determined that she had become so fragile that he didn’t dare touch her.
She looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a nuisance to Julian. He has a medical practice in St. Augustine.”
“Julian is glad enough for any opportunity to come south. He likes fishing off the coast, and he is exceptionally fond of hot water for swimming,” Ian said, his fingers closing over hers. “In another few weeks, you’ll be fine to travel. He’ll bring you to St. Augustine at the beginning of December and send you on a steamer northward.”
“Ah. Northward to…”
“I intend to meet you in Charleston.”
She felt almost ridiculously relieved. He hadn’t planned on abandoning her entirely.
“Well,” she murmured, determined that she wasn’t going to cling, “it will be wonderful to visit Charleston. And see Sydney.”
“I thought you’d enjoy that.”
“I do love Charleston; it was one of my father’s favorite cities. I’ve never been to Washington, though I’m not so sure this will be the time to visit.”
Ian was quiet a moment. “It will be some time before Lincoln is actually sworn in, Alaina. You’ll reach the Capital while Buchanan is still in the White House.”
“Does that mean we’ll be ready to leave by the time Lincoln is sworn in?” she asked softly.
“It means we’ll be in the city during a time of great upheaval—and excitement, I imagine.”
He rose, and she was alarmed, wishing that she had never spoken. She hadn’t wanted to fight.
But if she didn’t fight…
She lowered her lashes quickly. Ian just didn’t want to see the truth. His state was going to leave the Union. When his state actually did so, Ian would accept the fact that there was going to be a split. And he would resign then.
He was going to leave her. And she didn’t want him remembering her as harping like a shrew. She forced herself to smile. She stroked the back of his hand with her fingertips, eyes downcast. “Then I will be anxious to reach D.C., except that …”
“Yes?” he inquired.
“Ian, our child could be born then … in the North.”
“It will be born in the North.”
She shuddered slightly, and he laughed. “If two cats were to reproduce on the moon, my love, they’d still be cats. Our child will be a Floridian, no matter what.”
“Are you a Floridian no matter what, Ian?”
“Yes, my love, no matter what—and no matter what anyone thinks,” he added quietly. The last words seemed ominous.
She didn’t want to argue! she reminded herself. And still, she would have challenged him, except…
“Ian!”
“What?”
“Now, Ian, now. Oh, Ian, Julian is right! He—or she— is alive and… strong! Feel, Ian, feel!”
She drew his hand against her. To her delight, the child within her quite agreeably gave another mighty kick.
Ian held very still, his hand upon her. Then he jerked away quite suddenly, almost as if the babe’s movement had burned him.
“Ian—”
“Indeed,” he said huskily, “He—or she—lives.”
Tears of relief and happiness stung her eyes. She blinked quickly and furiously, hiding them.
Ian leaned over her then. She felt his warmth, breathed his scent, wished that he would hold her.
He kissed her chastely on the forehead. Then he straightened, touching the brim of his plumed slouch hat so that its angle shadowed his eyes. “Take care of our child—and yourself. Take care, my love,” he said.
And before she could reply, he turned and left her.
Chapter 17
“Ian!”
Through what seemed like a solid mass of humanity, Ian saw his cousin Brent. Thankfully, Brent was tall enough to stand above most of the chattering men and women who milled about. Ian waved in return to his cousin’s call and moved through the crowded public room of the Thayer Inn, an establishment directly across from the Charleston battery. He wondered now if he hadn’t been a fool to plan on meeting his cousins and his wife here. He’d never seen the city so crowded. The hotel itself was very old and most customarily a reserved place frequented by the same families throughout the generations. Today, it might as well have been the Fourth of July.
He made his way to Brent at last, who embraced him quickly and drew away, smiling wryly. “It’s madness here, isn’t it? Come on over, I’ve maneuvered a space at the bar—and we’ve already secured our rooms. The minute Sydney heard that they were bringing the legislative council meeting here from Columbia because of the fever there, she saw to our rooms. Naturally, we could have gone to the plantation, but with the excitement in the city, it seemed that we should stay. Did you hear what’s happening?”
Of course Ian had heard. South Carolina’s legislature had called a convention in the state’s capitol to form an ordinance of secession; smallpox, however, had caused the members to move the convention to Charleston.
>
The first meeting had taken place at Institute Hall on December 17. Now the Convention had been hammering out details for several days. Ian had learned all this on his way to Charleston. It was far too late to stop Alaina from coming here, and so there was nothing to do except hope that her ship had arrived without incident.
Not that he sensed any hostility at the moment. The mood in the streets was jubilant. People felt as if they were part of a second Declaration of Independence— which, in essence, they were. And it didn’t matter in the least that so many men were wearing the uniform of the United States army. Everyone waited. Timing was everything.
December 1860 had been a time when many had desperately sought compromise. The Congress of the United States had worked feverishly. The Virginia Legislature had called an unofficial “Peace Convention.”
Ian could have told them all, however, that very little would happen in Washington now. President Buchanan was a good enough man, but a man sitting on a fence. Biding his time until Lincoln should take over the presidency.
“I just heard on the docks that they’re expecting the convention to break today,” Ian said. “It seems there will be a meeting at Institute Hall with state and city officials.”
“And the bands will all play!” Brent agreed with a touch of sarcasm. Brent was against secession, Ian knew, but he was a Southerner, with deep convictions. Still, he hadn’t resided in South Carolina long enough for it to be his state. What Florida did in the next months would matter to his cousin, but no member of James McKenzie’s immediate family was ever going to wear the uniform of the United States army. At best, most of Ian’s own family would remain neutral.
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