The Flame and the Flower

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “Beauregard—Beauregard Grant,” he answered readily.

  She tested the name on her tongue, then nodded her head. “It’s a nice name. I like it. Beauregard Grant Birmingham is what he shall be called.”

  Freeing his finger from his son’s grip, Brandon opened a drawer in the bedside commode and removed a long box which he presented to her.

  “With gratitude, madam, for giving me a son.”

  He lifted the lid for her and she stared at the necklace within. Two long strands of large, carefully matched pearls were clasped together by a generous ruby set in gold filagree.

  “Oh, Brandon, it’s lovely,” she breathed.

  His eyes fell to her throat and bosom and his voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Somehow I thought pearls would compliment the beauty of your skin better than diamonds.”

  She could almost feel his stare caressing her. A warm feeling again swept her, and her pulse throbbed in her throat, then he glanced away.

  “I’ll get dressed,” he said huskily as he rose from the bed. “I imagine Abegail is anxious to see the baby.”

  He selected clothes from his wardrobe and turning again, gave her a long appraisal before he went into the sitting room to dress.

  Some time later, Abegail came in with Jeff to view the baby who now lay asleep on the bed beside his mother. She lifted a lorgnette and peered at the new born, then raised an eyebrow as she smiled at Brandon.

  “Well, I see there’ll be another generation of girls set upon by a Birmingham. But I do hope you plan to have enough to make a lot of those frilly-skirted things happy. They shan’t like it if there’s only himself there.”

  Jeff smiled slowly. “They’ll probably have at least a dozen, but I doubt if their children will be all boys.”

  The old woman looked in obvious glee to Brandon. “Well, now that would be justice indeed, to have one of you two defending a maiden’s honor.” She chuckled merrily at the thought. “It would stir your blood more than a mite if you had to force a gay bachelor to wed your daughter.”

  Heather cast a quick glance to Brandon and was amazed to see for the first time a dark blush on his face. Jeff smiled to himself, seeing his brother’s discomfort, but Mrs. Clark was gazing again at the babe and missed the exchange, having no idea how close she had brought everything home to him.

  “You have given the world a most magnificent child, my dear,” she commented to Heather. “You must be quite proud of him.”

  Heather smiled at the woman and raised warm eyes to her husband. “Thank you, Mrs. Clark. I am.”

  With the birth of his son past, Brandon once more devoted his time and energies to readying the mill for operation. Heather remained in the large bedroom and had set her mind to the fact that she would stay there. It would take physical force to move her out again, and each day her presence was more firmly established. Brandon first noticed her brush and comb upon the dressing table, then her powder and perfumes resided there. More and more of her clothes hung beside his in the wardrobe as her lingerie found its way into the bureau with his items of apparel. It became so he had to search through her soft and lacy chemises and nightgowns to locate his stockings and stocks, and more than once pulled out one of her dainty handkerchiefs when he thought he had one of his.

  In deference to her tender condition, he had taken up what he hoped was a temporary residence in the sitting room, but many a longing glance he cast at the huge bed, for the small one in the sitting room was not made for a tall frame. Either he banged his head or his feet stuck out, and he cursed the damned thing often and heartily. Yet he could never quite find the right moment to tactfully assert his rights and take a place there in his bed beside his wife, and watching her slow movements about the house, he knew it would be some time yet before he could find relief for his baser needs with her, though he found her newly regained slimness most distracting. But she made no offer either to move out of his bed nor for him to join her. So with many a long sigh, he doubled up his knees and made the best of the small comfort he had.

  Though most of his time was consumed at the mill what spare moments he had he spent with his wife and son. He rose early in the mornings, yet found Heather up and tending the babe, either bathing him or giving him his morning nourishment. Enjoying both sights it became part of the rote for him to join her there before his day’s work began. A new, stronger yet unspoken bond began to build between them in those quite morning moments they spent together with their son.

  Chapter 9

  The month of May brought the summer in earnest and after the rain ceased each day seemed hotter than the one before. Cotton had been planted and the spring’s work done. The mill was now operating at nearly full capacity and the lumber yard was beginning to fill. As soon as the newly sawed boards and timber had seasoned for a few weeks in the sun the first shipments would be made. Orders had already been placed for several month’s worth of the mill’s products. Mr. Webster’s able talents had proven themselves and he kept the saws humming and the pond full of ready timber. All indications were that this first season would turn a handsome profit, and Brandon was well pleased with the progress.

  Now as the long, hot days bore heavy on the minds the gay life of the planters began. The first party of the summer’s social whirl was set at Harthaven the weekend following. A great deal of Heather’s attention was directed toward the preparations for this gay event. Invitations were sent out, champagne purchased, foods planned. She conversed with Hatti about new uniforms for the house staff and the mansion’s overall appearance while the gardeners strove to meet her approval by manicuring the grounds to perfection.

  While Heather’s time was taken up planning the party and tending Beau, Brandon found himself more and more the extra man at the mill. He now had time to spend with his wife and son and set into motion his own strategy of winning a place beside her in the huge bed. So it was with considerable malice aforethought that he chose this day to gently bribe her. He had purchased earlier in the week a small, fine chestnut mare with flashing white stockings aforefoot and a startling blaze across her face. She was a spirited but gentle filly and one he thought his wife could easily take to. He smiled to himself as he put the sidesaddle astride the animal and caressed the leather where his wife would sit, thinking what the gift might lead to. He would be most gentle with her as he taught her how to handle the beast, and he might even gain a soft kiss or two this very day.

  Smiling at his thoughts, he led Leopold and the mare to the front of the house and tying them there, mounted the steps to the porch. Heather was in the drawing room, carefully stitching a shirt for him, and she was so intent upon her task that she failed to notice his entry into the house. He leaned against the door sill and watched her for a long moment as she sat unaware of his presence. Their son indulged in an afternoon nap in a wicker crib near her, having been fed just a short time earlier, and that too worked to his advantage. He smiled as her brows drew together over a difficult stitch.

  “Don’t frown so, my love,” he teased. “Or you’ll be looking like that prune-faced Mrs. Scott.”

  Heather jumped at his first word. “Brandon, you gave me a fright!”

  He grinned in a roguish way. “Did I now?” he questioned softly. “Well, I’m sorry, sweet. I didn’t mean to.”

  Heather laughed and put her sewing aside as he came forward, more handsome than any man she had ever seen. The sun had darkened his skin to a deep tan and his green eyes seemed to shine that much brighter. He looked quite manly and masculine in casual riding attire, and her heart beat a little faster with his presence.

  He stopped before her and reaching out for her hand, pulled her to her feet, noticing as he did so the soft, sweet scent of her perfume. As he led her into the hall he told Joseph to fetch Mary to sit with the baby, then turned again to his wife who looked up at him quite perplexed.

  “Where are we going?” she inquired.

  He smiled as he put his hand behind her back and urged her forward.
r />   “Just outside,” he replied, noncommittal.

  Heather walked out onto the porch and glanced around to see the two horses tied to the hitching post, both awaiting riders and the smaller one bearing a sidesaddle. She lifted a questioning gaze to her husband and he flashed her a grin.

  “Don’t you like her? I never asked if you were fond of horses or could ride, but it will be an easy matter for me to teach you—your health permitting, madam.”

  She laughed brightly as she hurried down the steps to the mare. “I’m in perfect health,” she said over her shoulder.

  Brandon’s grin broadened and he quickly followed.

  Quite taken with the trim and shapely filly, Heather caressed the silky nose and smoothed the chestnut mane and could not contain her excitement.

  “Oh, Brandon, she’s lovely. What’s her name?”

  “Lady Fair,” he replied.

  “Oh, it’s most fitting. She is a fair lady.” She whirled to him and smiled. “Will you lift me up?”

  He raised an eyebrow and pointedly gazed at the light and low cut summer dress she wore.

  “Don’t you think you’d better change, my sweet? That dress is not the most . . .”

  “No,” she interrupted, thrusting out a lower lip in a feigned pout. “I want to ride her now and it would take too long to change.” Her mouth curved in a cajoling smile as she ran a finger down the buttons of his waistcoat. “Please, Brandon. Please.”

  He chuckled at her coquettish pleading and could do nothing but give in to her. He bent and clasped his hand to receive her dainty foot, then raised her up. After seating herself and placing a knee about the horn, Heather bent low to set her foot firmly in the stirrup. The low cut gown she wore fell away from her bosom and presented to Brandon every detail of those lovely, round breasts it sought to cover. He stood frozen, his hands holding the reins, his eyes fastened on her display. He swallowed with difficulty and a sound much like a groan escaped him. Heather lifted her eyes to his face and her lips curved softly upward as she met his gaze in warm communication. Brandon’s heart thudded heavily within his chest, and his hand was half raised to her when she straightened, leaving him somewhat bewildered. But one could hardly fondle his wife on the front steps of his home. Regretfully he handed her up the reins.

  Heather took them in a practiced grip, much to his surprise, and wheeling the mare away from him, with well-placed heel, she sent the horse dashing down the lane to the fields. Brandon leaped astride Leopold and with great concern riding his mind, sent the huge black thundering after her. A race ensued and Heather, with lighthearted abandon, turned the mare from the lane and sent her dodging through the trees. Leopold’s huge hooves sent clods of earth flying as he strove to follow the twisting path, but was forced to slow his pace much to Brandon’s consternation. Thus the mare held her lead until they reached an open field and the laboring black could stretch his mighty tendons to their advantage. He rapidly overtook Lady Fair, and Heather pulled her horse back to a walk as Brandon drew up beside and laughed at the worried frown upon his face.

  “You laid me false, madam,” he finally chuckled when he could see the humor of her play. “But your skill is exceeded only by your lack of common sense.”

  “Ha!” she returned impertinently. “I’ve ridden to the hounds, and given a deeper grove you’d still be panting at my heels.”

  She laughed again and urged her mount into an easy lope across the fields. Leopold, warmed by the sprint and sensing the mare, lifted his feet high in a jolting prance, fought the reins and continually sidled close upon her heels. The ride continued until they topped a grassy, windswept knoll, and Heather stopped to let Lady Fair blow and cool in the gentle breeze.

  Giving Leopold a damning glare as he finished tying the reins to a bush, Brandon came around to lift Heather down. Reaching up he gently grasped her beneath the bosom, and she laughed gaily as she dropped her hands upon his broad shoulders, having thoroughly enjoyed his gift and the ride. He stood close beside the horse, and as she slid to the ground her thigh brushed hard against his loin, the contact catching them both unaware. Heather moved quickly away, her leg burning with the touch. Behind her Brandon put his hand on the mare and closed his eyes, intense desire for his wife torturing him and making him tremble. The unexpected contact had made him acutely conscious of the celibate life he had led since first he caressed and wooed that sweet, young body months before. His flesh betrayed his need, rising up against his will. He was hungry for her and could hardly restrain himself from gathering her up into his arms and finding the softest, sweetest grass on which to lay her. He imagined his haste to free her from her garments, possibly even tearing them if they resisted his fingers, and he thought of the eyebrows that would raise. He cursed the lack of privacy they had, recalling the many frustrating times he had been interrupted just when he thought he was gaining ground. But he was not planning for just one roll in the grass, rather a lifetime of pleasure-filled moments. He must think first of his goal and of gently courting her and not of fulfilling his momentary desires.

  He struggled for control, finding it with an effort, and finally moved to stand behind her and to gaze out over the hazy, wooded hills. He slid his arms around her, folding them before her as she leaned back against him and touched his lips to her hair, breathing in the sweet fragrance that was a part of her. As they stood bathing in this new found togetherness and each other’s nearness, Heather turned soft blue eyes up to him and smiled slowly, her lips moist and parted. Brandon needed no other invitation to taste their honey sweetness. He lowered his head and his mouth moved over hers hungrily, and seemingly by magic Heather turned in his arms and melted more closely to him, slipping her hands behind his back. His arm tightened about her waist and his other encircled her shoulders, crushing her to him, and she clung to him, wanting the moment to go on forever. His kiss filled her with desire, leaving every muscle in her body weak and pliable. She felt his thighs hard pressed against her own and realized his passion matched hers. Her lips parted under his mounting fervor and she rose on her toes to fit herself more intimately with his body.

  With a gust, the wind changed and whipped the grass about their feet, and the first large drops of a summer thunderstorm struck their heads. They drew apart and looked up to see that the storm was upon them. Brandon then knew frustration so thorough he almost raised a fist toward the blackened sky, but Heather was already running toward the horses. He followed and swung her up on Lady Fair and quickly mounted his own steed. The gale struck in full force, and long before they reached the shelter of Harthaven they were drenched to the skin and their clothes and hair lay plastered to them. From the edge of the pine forest they raced across the lawn to the porch with Leopold arriving several lengths ahead. In the drenching downpour Brandon lifted Heather from the saddle and carried her to the porch and then ran back to tie the horses. As he did Heather gazed downward to find her garments only a transparent film over her body, clinging closely to every curve. With the chill of the wet clothes her nipples rose taut and stood in small peaks against her bodice. She picked at the fabric, pulling it away from her skin, not wanting to face Jeff or Joseph in this condition. Brandon hurried up the steps out of the downpour and seeing her, understood her predicament. He quickly shed his waistcoat and wrapped it around her, then hugged her close as he whispered in her ear.

  “I wouldn’t want to fight anyone over you today.”

  She giggled and they staggered together into the house, laughing in carefree glee. Their mirth ended as they came face to face with Hatti’s disgruntled frown. She stood with hands on hips and shook her head at them and pursed her mouth at her master.

  “Master Bran, I swear sometimes I think you ain’t got a lick of sense. What you wanna take that child out riding in the rain for and her just barely over having Master Beau. Lordy me, she’s gonna catch her death of the ague.” She grunted disapprovingly. “Now, Miss Heather, you get yourself right upstairs and out of them wet clothes.”

>   She grasped Heather’s elbow and gave her no choice in the matter, and Brandon chuckled as his wife was towed up the stairs like a child by the worried old Negress. At the landing, Hatti turned and shook her finger at him.

  “You just stand there and laugh and you gonna have Master Beau without his mammy one of these days.”

  She turned and stomped angrily toward the bedroom, dragging her much bemused mistress in her wake. Heather smiled over her shoulder at her husband and blew him a kiss before she was pulled out of sight. Brandon stared upward for a moment, reflecting upon her parting gesture. He smiled to himself, feeling quite satisfied with the day after all. He shucked his boots then ran in stocking feet up the stairs to the sitting room where he found dry clothes and a towel laid out for him upon the bed. He stripped and was toweling himself dry when he heard a splash of water from the next room and the door close and Hatti’s footsteps going down the stairs. He moved quietly to the door between the rooms and eased it carefully open to find Heather sitting in the tub with her back to him. As he watched she leaned back and raised a water-laden sponge above her and squeezed it, letting a streaming torrent gush down her arms and full, ripe breasts. She began to hum a vaguely familiar air and soon the words broke from her lips.

  Black is the color of my true love’s hair

  His looks are something wondrous fair

  The purest eyes and the firmest hands

  I love the ground on where he stands.

  He stood and watched her lather her silken skin, lifting a slender leg to soap it well, then the other as he listened to the happy, lilting sound of her voice. After a few moments the strain upon him began to tell and he gently eased the door shut. Turning, he leaned his back against the sill and mentally rubbed his hands together, overjoyed at the unfounded success of his plans.

  He remembered with clarity the sultry smiles, the startling display of her breasts, the fiery kiss and the moment just before the storm broke when she had molded her body to his in the most provocative way.