They took the stairs at a frantic pace, Mindy in Saul’s arms, and Alaina being pushed ahead of Cole who held their daughter in a firm grasp. The child was crying and frightened, but there was no time to console her. There was a thunderous crash far below them, and a shower of sparks spiraled up toward them, bringing the uncomfortable heat with it.
“The door’s been blown open,” Cole roared. “We’ve got to get out of here, or be roasted alive!”
Alaina was winded, and her side ached. Still, she kept forcing her trembling legs to climb. It was much harder going up the stairs, than it had been going down, and Cole pushed her ever onward, his hand on her buttock as he ascended the steps close behind her. Then smoke began to billow up, choking them and stinging their eyes.
The mirror door was closed. Alaina took the baby from her husband and pointed to the timber on the landing below. Cole leaped down and twisted the latch as she directed, but nothing happened. Then, as they watched, the cables slowly slipped out of the guides and hung free and useless. The ends had been neatly snipped through.
“Tamara!” Cole roared the name like a curse. He should have known that she had left the cave and escaped up the stairs.
“We’re trapped!” Alaina gasped.
Saul stood Mindy beside Alaina, then stepped back and thrust a heavy foot at the portal until the recalcitrant door opened for them. They burst into Roberta’s room, gasping for air, but in another moment they were sounding an alarm throughout the house.
As they led the way across the front porch, Olie, Braegar, and Peter, and the sheriff were just bringing around a wagonload of trussed-up river pirates and the victorious field hands.
Olie ran forward as soon as he caught sight of Cole and worriedly explained his tardiness. “When I come behind Saul, I knew it weren’t no good in tryin’ to get through dat way, so I sent Peter to fetch the sheriff and Doctor Darvey, then went by the river to see if I could find the entrance to the cave. By the time I got ’round the cliff, dere was a whole bargeload of men on the river, and I had me a fine tussle with them ‘til the sheriff come.”
“It’s all right, Olie,” Cole assured the man. “We’re safe now, and the pirates are caught, thanks to you.”
As they watched, great gouts of. flame began shooting up from the cliff face and far above it, announcing the conflagration to all who could see for miles around. A shrill whistle pierced the roar of the flames and grew lower in pitch as a small flame sprouted from the roof of the western tower and, widening, sent the lesser roof crashing in a shower of sparks down the side of the house. Unhampered, the flames shot high and howled as if in greedy delight. The windows of the house glowed red, then white. The panes shattered outward, sending a leaping spurt of fire up the bricks to lap hungrily at the eaves.
The flames lit the roof, and Braegar caught Cole’s arm, pointing upward. High above them on the narrow widow’s walk that capped the roof, a strange figure pranced about in a grotesque dance. Her long, black hair swirled about her head as the wind whipped it wildly about. She wore a blood-red dress, and several of the onlookers murmured Roberta’s name in stunned awe. The three who had survived the cave ordeal knew the face, and it was not Roberta’s. Tamara waved her arms as if supplicating the heavens as she shrieked into the night sky. Then turning, she saw the mass of white upturned faces below her and flung out an arm accusingly. Her high-pitched scream could be heard over the roar of the flames.
“Latimer House is mine forever! You can’t take it from me! None of you will have it now!”
“She’s out of her mind!” The comment came from beside them, and Cole turned to find Martin Holvag at his side. Then, Cole’s gaze passed on to find that Rebel had joined them. Standing beside Braegar, she was twisting her hands and mewling fretfully.
“I know it’s in there! I found Roberta’s diary, and she said she had hidden a treasure. It has to be in the house, but now it’s burning up!”
“You took Roberta’s diary?” Alaina questioned sharply in surprise.
“Well, it was just lying there, waiting to be taken,” Rebel whined.
“In my bedroom!” Alaina snapped.
“How’d I know it was yours? So many rooms in that blasted house, it made me confused!”
“That’s the reason you came into our room that night?” Cole demanded angrily. “Looking for money that wasn’t yours?”
Rebel’s face crumpled, and she wrung her hands in distress as she looked plaintively up at Braegar who was suddenly looking very disgusted. He turned his back and walked away, leaving her choking on whimpering sobs.
A new flood of fire gushed through the house. Whiter! Hotter! The roof seemed to heave upward, as if it were some living thing caught in roweling agony, then suddenly it crashed downward into the house, accompanied by a strange paean of wild laughter that could only have been formed by their imagination, yet the eerie sound rode the wind into the night.
The night grew still once more as the Latimers retired to the cottage’s master bedroom. Only a red glow in the sky beyond the treetops could be seen from the second story room. It concerned them not, for it was here that Cole enjoyed the pleasure of watching his daughter playing, as babies do, with her toes, and it was here that Alaina, almost shyly, set a roll of bank notes onto the bed beside him.
Cole glanced up in surprise as she did so. “What’s this?”
Alaina’s cheeks pinkened. “You remember the two thousand you wanted me to take from you in New Orleans?”
Slowly he nodded.
“Well, Mrs. Hawthorne gave the rest of it to me while she was here. She said she had kept it for me.”
“The rest?”
“There’s not two thousand here now,” Alaina explained. “I fear she used part of it to help purchase the gowns I wore when I came up here. You see, they were not used gowns, at all, but new, purchased with your money.”
Cole laughed incredulously. “You mean, all that time you were refusing to wear the clothes I purchased for you, you were wearing others that my money had bought?”
Alaina nodded gingerly. “I didn’t know it, Cole. Will you forgive me for being so blind and so proud?”
“My darling,” he chuckled, pulling her down beside him on the bed. “You have added spice to my life that I would have found with no one else. How can I be angry with you for anything? I can only count myself fortunate that you share my life and will continue to do so until we’re both old and gray.”
“It is my plan, milord Yankee,” she whispered against his lips, “and my most heartfelt wish.”
Epilogue
IT was late in the evening nearly a month later that Cole found himself alone in the parlor of the cottage. Alaina was upstairs with their daughter, and the house was quiet except for an occasional sound of laughter drifting down the stairs.
Cole paused by a window and stared in some wonder. By the lane in front of the cottage stood the lone figure of a man. He was thin and ragged, and a worn, gray hat sagged upon his head. He perused the house carefully, then consulted a small piece of paper in his hand, but his manner was one of reluctance, as if he resisted approaching the door. In the settling dusk, his face was indistinct but Cole was sure he had never met the man. His curiosity got the better of him, and he went to the door and stepped out to accost the stranger.
As Cole approached him, the man straightened and thrust his hands into the pockets of his shabby coat.
“Do you have business here, sir? Or wish to see a doctor?” Cole asked.
The man was young, perhaps less than thirty, and his gray eyes seemed to challenge Cole before he replied. “Perhaps I have business here, suh.” A hint of anger was evident in his voice. “Then again, maybe I don’t. I was looking for a Doctor Latimer, and I was given directions to this place.”
“You are speaking to him,” Cole informed him, studying the man carefully. “You are a Southerner I take it, and though I see no horse or carriage, I must assume you’ve come a good distance to see me, yet I cannot
fathom why. You are obviously not ill.”
“I walked here.” The statement was terse.
“I can see that you were a Confederate officer.” Cole gestured to the man’s once gray coat with its faded gold braid and the hat. “And you must realize that I fought for the Union. Could it be that you’re looking for some kin of yours perhaps?”
“No, damn you!” The stranger’s lips grew white, and his voice was taut with rage. “I have no kin, thanks to you Yankees. I have no home either. When I went back there, I found it burned to the ground. Some Yankee had bought it for a pittance of what it was worth.”
“I am sorry you have lost your home and family, and even sorrier that you seem to blame me.” Cole shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands in a gesture of innocence, then as the gray eyes flared their hatred, Cole stopped. He tipped his head to one side, and a strange light grew in his own eyes as he carefully studied the man. “Yet I seem to find a hint of your purpose. Could the house you refer to be called Briar Hill?”
“Yes!” The word came almost as an explosion from the man’s chest, and he could no longer meet Cole’s gaze. He turned away angrily.
“And your name would be MacGaren then?” Cole pressed.
The man only nodded.
“You say you have no family?”
Now he faced Cole with a pained glare. “My father and brother were killed in the war. My mother died of heartbreak. My sister has disappeared. You bluebellies said she was a spy and hunted her. I can only guess her fate in some stinking Yankee prison.”
“You seem to have considerable cause to hate,” Cole observed. “Could it be that you’re Jason MacGaren?”
Again the stiff nod.
“Well, you are right!” Cole went on.casually. “I did purchase Briar Hill for the overdue taxes and have kept them well paid since. I assure you it was all very legal.”
“Legal!” Jason MacGaren shouted. “Maybe legal, but not right. I have come to get the place back!”
Cole shrugged. “I’m afraid you may have some difficulty there, Captain MacGaren. You see, I bought the plantation for my wife and had the title placed in her name.”
“You shame me, suh!” Jason gritted through clenched teeth. He shook himself and fought for a new grip on his emotions. “But then, I have known much shame of late. If beg I must, then beg I will.” He crumpled the piece of paper in his hand and hunched his shoulders against the cool breeze. He stared into the distant haze as he continued. “The house is ashes. The outbuildings empty and rotting. The fields are gone to weeds and need tilling. Will you not at least let me sharecrop it and rebuild it?”
Cole considered the man who waited an answer with angry hope unquenched in his eyes. A long moment passed before he reached out a hand and rested it on the other’s arm.
“Captain MacGaren, you will have to discuss this with my wife.” He stepped aside and motioned for the man to proceed. “Come in. Have a bite to eat with us. She may agree to what you suggest.” He glimpsed the man’s reluctance and laughed softly. “At least, come in and have a brandy. It’s a precious long walk back to town, and I’m sure my wife will be pleased to meet you.”
A sour smile twisted Jason’s lips, and he gave a shallow shrug before he yielded and walked up the path to the front porch. Cole led him into the parlor and apologized as he poured a liberal brace of brandies.
“My wife is upstairs. It won’t take a moment to fetch her. Excuse me.”
When he was out of sight, Cole took the stairs three at a time, but he paused before their bedroom door and laid a tight rein on his broad grin. He was calm and off-handedly casual when he entered.
“Alaina, we have an unexpected guest who wishes to discuss a matter or two with you.” He lifted Glynis from her lap, and forestalled his wife’s questions with a shrug. “Just go down and talk to him. I’ll bring Glynis.”
“But, Cole—” she protested, smoothing her hair. “Who is he? What does he want with me?”
“He’ll tell you that himself. Now hurry, before he decides to leave.”
Cole descended the stairs behind his wife, watching her with a grin flitting uncontrollably across his lips. As Alaina entered the parlor, he leaned against the doorway waiting. Jason sat hunched on a small stool, staring at the snifter cupped in his hands. When he heard the swish of petticoats, he came to his feet, yanking off his hat, then he turned—and gaped.
“Jason!” Alaina’s cry was a whole chorus of joyful notes. “Oh, Jason!”
Brother and sister were in each other’s arms before the universe had spent another second. The man closed his eyes and hid his face against her hair as his arms fairly squeezed the breath from her. When he raised his eyes to meet Cole’s smile, tears streamed from them unheeded.
“You’re a damned Yankee, Cole Latimer.” His voice was hoarse and choked. “I don’t know if I can stand you for a brother-in-law.”
Alaina leaned back against Jason’s arm and smiled through her own tears of joy as she caressed his stubbled jaw softly with her hand. “You have no choice in the matter, Jason MacGaren.” Her voice was low and trembling with happiness. “No choice at all.”
Lament
Oh, my home!
Your wisdom exceeded far
My meager understanding.
I have won!
I am thrice blessed!
You were with me all along, and only slept,
Awaiting this rich soil to spread your roots and
grow.
You have taught me this.
And I no more shall fear
The scent of change,
The loss of Yesterday.
Upon its charred remains,
I will build today!
And lay the foundation of tomorrow!
And nevermore regret,
The smell of ashes in the wind.
About the Author
Kathleen E. Woodiwiss wrote the very first historical romance novel in 1972 —The Flame and the Flower created a genre and made Ms. Woodiwiss one of the world’s most popular writers, with 36 million books in print. In celebration of Ms. Woodiwiss’s new novel, The Reluctant Suitor (2003), PerfectBound is publishing Ms. Woodiwiss’s classic backlist, including the complete Birmingham Family Saga: The Flame and the Flower; The Elusive Flame; A Season Beyond a Kiss. Also available are Ms. Woodiwiss’s Ashes in the Wind; Come Love a Stranger; Forever in Your Embrace; Petals on the River; A Rose in Winter; Shanna; So Worthy My Love; The Wolf and the Dove.
NEW YORK TIMES
BESTSELLING AUTHOR
KATHLEEN E. WOODIWISS
“A LEGEND . . . THE QUEEN OF
HISTORICAL ROMANCE.”
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
“A PHENOMENON”
The New York Times
“WOODIWISS REIGNS!”
Life
“THE FIRST LADY OF THE GENRE.”
Publishers Weekly
“LIVE AND BREATHE THE WORLD
KATHLEEN E. WOODIWISS CREATES.”
Houston Chronicle
Works by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss
The Birmingham Family Saga:
The Flame and the Flower
The Elusive Flame
A Season Beyond a Kiss
And also:
Ashes in the Wind
Come Love a Stranger
Forever in Your Embrace
Petals on the River
A Rose in Winter
Shanna
So Worthy My Love
The Wolf and the Dove
The Reluctant Suitor
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ASHES IN THE WIND. Copyright © 1979 by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees,
you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of PerfectBound™.
PerfectBound™ and the PerfectBound™ logo are trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
MS Reader edition v 1. March 2003 ISBN 0-06-053184-3
First Avon Books printing: April 1981
First Avon Book trade printing: September 1979
40 39 38 37 36 35 34 33 32 31
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