The Flame and the Flower

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  The breath caught in his throat as he saw her and his blood surged through his veins in a violent rush as his senses were filled with her presence. His eyes swept her body in one long passionate caress. Her hair fell freely about her shoulders as she lay half reclining on her side among the pillows with the covers drawn out of the way to the foot of the bed. The gown teased him with its cloud of sheer blue, leaving one lovely hip and leg bare as it fell open from her narrow waist to be caught coyly between her thighs. Her breasts pressed against its transparency and lured him with their eagerness to be out, causing his breathing to become labored and hard. She smiled softly and her eyes held a seductive promise as she raised an arm to him. Almost fearing that he was in a dream, he bent over the edge of the bed, and she slipped her hand behind his neck and drew him down to her. Her skin was warm and silky smooth against him, and her intoxicating fragrance encircled him as her arms did. His hands slid to the ribbons on her gown, and her breath whispered in his ear.

  “It took you long enough, my darling.”

  Brandon’s world reeled and he grasped her tightly to him, murmuring soft words as his lips sought the tempting flesh of her throat.

  “Heather . . . Oh, Heather,” he rasped. “I’ve wanted you for so long, hungered for you. I couldn’t bear it a moment longer.”

  His mouth eagerly took hers and their bodies strained together hungrily, Brandon’s nearly famished for the full draught of love, Heather’s just beginning to taste it. She moaned softly under his exploring, practiced hands, his fierce, fevered kisses and clung to him as she gave herself wholly to his passion, becoming so enmeshed in its intensity that she found herself returning it with a wild and free abandon that amazed herself as well as him. She felt his manhood against her, gently searching as he tried not to be rough in his eagerness, and reached down a hand to give assistance. When first she touched him, she almost recoiled with surprise at the warmth and passion he displayed, but at his hoarsely muttered encouragement led him on to his nest and felt that heat and pride press deep within her. Her eyes widened at the sensation inspired and in the soft light she saw her husband’s face above her, his features sharp and hardened with his excitement. He seemed to luxuriate in the moment, so intimate, so tender between them. To her he appeared as some splendid, godlike being. Murmuring her love to him, she slid her arms about his neck, pressing her soft breasts into the mat of hair that covered his chest, and pulled his head down to hers. Her kiss was full and inviting, without reserve, flaming under his lips as her small tongue penetrated between. Brandon trembled above her, holding her close, and began to move, gently at first, taking care, but the violence of their passion consumed them both and they forgot themselves in its mounting storm. A startled murmur broke from her lips as she at last found what awaited her.

  “Brandon!”

  And he gloried in his triumph as they were dissolved in a mutual fire which died slowly, leaving them cinders on the hearth of love.

  The candle flame flickered in the gentle breeze that stirred the curtains at the windows and bounced eerie shadows across the ceiling as it illuminated the figures within the bed. Heather lay back against the pillows, wrapped in Brandon’s arms, her limbs entwined with his, feeling strangely disembodied as if she floated on a cloud somewhere detached from the world around. Her eyes were closed and a dreamy, contented smile shaped her lips as Brandon lightly traced his finger over her face, caressing her mouth, her eyes and the slanted brows.

  “Always before I assumed a great degree of experience was needed for love’s play to be at its richest, and now I find in that too I was wrong. I have never tasted joy so sweet before.”

  “Oh, my darling, you are not alone,” she smiled, opening her eyes to gaze at him with love. “Had I known before what it was like I would have demanded my rights.” She laughed a little and looped her arms around his neck. “It’s a shame we wasted so much time to know each other.”

  His lips replaced his fingers and he murmured against her mouth as he pressed soft kisses upon it.

  “You hated me, remember?”

  “Hmm, in the very beginning perhaps I did,” she replied, returning his kisses. “Then perhaps I didn’t. I just know you frightened me more than I could stand.”

  He laughed and rolled over with her and sank his lips against the warm flesh of her throat, enjoying the feel of her unclad softness against him.

  “I frightened myself too. I was afraid I’d lose you completely.”

  She rose up on his chest and thrust out her bottom lip sullenly. “You were as mean as a rutting boar, Brandon Birmingham, and you know it.”

  He half smiled as he idly ran a finger from her shoulder downward across a breast and around the pink peak thrusting forward impudently.

  “Being forced into marriage went against my grain,” he murmured. “And having your aunt treat me like a boorish clod from the colonies did not help my disposition. Then having to spend my wedding night under the scrutiny of Lord Hampton tested my temper more. But when you said you hated me, my anger found full bloom and since you were the only one there I could lash out against, my anger sought you. Beware, my pretty. Revenge is not a double-edged sword at all. It is purely single-edged. I found myself astraddle the sharp edge and whenever you rocked it I felt the bite.”

  Her eyes grew innocently round. “Whatever did I do to injure you?”

  He dropped his head back against the pillow and putting his hand across his brow, closed his eyes and laughed with a sigh. “Oh, tell me what you didn’t do, my love. That would indeed be simpler. You played the woman as if you created the part, and I had to stand by, the helpless male, and watch you feast upon my heart. You bared your breasts before me and swung your full ripe cheeks to tease the very eyeballs from my head, and were so damned tempting I nearly took you by force at least a thousand different times.”

  She giggled and laid her cheek against his shoulder and ran her fingers idly through the hair on his chest as she fell into deep thought. “Do you know, Brandon, I almost feel sorry for Aunt Fanny. She never knew what it was to be loved or to even have a friend.”

  He smiled and opened his eyes. “Don’t feel too badly about her, pet. She’s probably living quite contentedly on the money I gave her.”

  Heather sprang up with a start and searched his face. “You gave Aunt Fanny money?”

  He nodded. “A handsome amount it was too. It went to pay a debt she said I owed her for taking care of you the two years you lived with them.”

  “And you paid her!” she cried indignantly. “Oh, Brandon, she was well paid in advance when she sold all my belongings. And besides, I worked for my living those two years. She had no right to claim that debt to you. I feel so ashamed. You must have thought we were all money grabbers.”

  He laughed with amusement, drawing her close again. “I gave it to her for more than that one reason, my love. She might have tried to make a claim upon you and my child, guessing that I had the wealth to care for her in a luxurious fashion, and I had no wish for her constant presence around me nor around you. It’s one thing to have a reluctant wife but quite another to have an offensive in-law complicating matters. The next time she would have laid a hand on you I probably would have killed the hag anyway. So not wishing to commit mayhem upon that bovine beast I gave her the money without an argument. In fact, I gave it to her so quickly I fear she was shocked.”

  “Oh, Brandon,” she laughed gaily. “You are so wonderfully impossible.”

  He chuckled as his hand swept her body. “Well, we are rid of her, aren’t we, sweet?”

  Heather’s smile faded swiftly as she suddenly remembered the lifeless form of William Court sprawled upon the floor, and she threw her arms about her husband and clung to him tightly.

  “I hope we are rid of her, Brandon. I hope we are.”

  Brandon smoothed her hair from her face, and when he spoke it was most gently. “Will you tell me why you are afraid, my love? Will you let me help you?”

  S
he rolled away and closed her eyes, frightened of what might happen to them if he found out that she had slain a man. She shook her head, managing a laugh.

  “It’s nothing, my darling. Truly, there’s nothing.”

  She opened her eyes to find him above her, waiting, his eyes searching, trying to see within her mind. Then he bent slowly toward her mouth, pressing her back into the pillows.

  “I love you, Heather. I love you more than my life, and my love is strong. Trust me, my darling.”

  His mouth moved over hers and again Heather melted within his arms. A long time later her breath was warm against his ear.

  “And I love you, Brandon, my very dearest husband.”

  * * *

  Brandon was aroused from sleep by Hatti’s voice in the hallway, and as her footsteps neared, he sat up in sudden realization of where he was. His movement roused Heather, and she rolled closer, her eyes unopened, a sleepy smile curving her lips. She reached out a hand to caress his lean, muscular ribs, and he lay back, reluctantly pulling the sheet over them as Hatti flung open the door. The old Negress stopped dead in mid stride as she saw the two of them together in the huge bed, then a broad grin made tiny wrinkles about her eyes and she bustled on into the room as if it were an everyday occurrence. Ignoring Brandon’s frown, she went to the windows, throwing aside the heavy drapes to let the brilliant sunlight fill the room. She stood with arms akimbo, chuckling to herself.

  “Yassah, it sure is a mighty fine day. Why, I don’t think I’ve seen so much sun in one day in the last twenty years, not since your mammy was in this house, Master Bran.”

  Heather fluffed the pillows and leaned back against them half sitting, drawing the sheet up over her bosom, and Brandon joined her there, dropping a hand over her thigh as he scowled from under his brows at the Negress. Heather’s eyes sparkled with suppressed merriment as she watched Hatti sweep about the room, throwing clothes over her arm and straightening things here and there.

  “I suppose you all be wanting your breakfast soon,” the old woman rambled on. “I ain’t never known you to be a late riser before, Master Bran. I suppose Master Jeff is eating his heart out wondering where you is. Hee-hee-hee.”

  She chuckled, unable to contain her happiness and then grew serious as she picked up Heather’s blue gown from the floor beside the bed and spread it carefully on a chair close at hand. She continued onto the wardrobe where she found a robe for her mistress and laid it beside the gown.

  “I suspect he’s gonna be up here soon. He was eating some time ago and said he wanted to see you.” The wide grin came again as she looked at the two in bed. “That Master Beau gonna be wanting to come in here pretty soon, too. I ain’t never known him to sleep this late before either. You sure got him trained, Miss Heather.”

  “He’s just better mannered than some people I know,” Brandon gruffly retorted, drawing a chuckle from the old woman.

  She shuffled to the door and opening it, turned to give Brandon a last wicked gaze before she left. “Yassah, it sure is a mighty fine day.”

  Before she could leave, Jeff’s voice sounded from the other room. “Where is he, the lazy dolt? Leaves the party early, forgets his guests and lies abed until midday.”

  His head poked through the doorway, and with a gasp Heather quickly slid down in bed, snatching the sheet up close under her chin. There was a moment’s silence as his gaze took in the scene.

  “Well, you’re not exactly decent, but I’ll come in anyway,” he grinned.

  He slipped past Hatti as the old woman left and entered the room, coming to stand at the foot of the bed where he regarded the two within. His lips twisted into a one-sided grin as his gaze rested mostly on his brother while that hearty squirmed under the thoughtful eye. Then he strolled to the window, eyeing Heather’s blue gown as he passed the chair. Resting one hand upon the sill and with the other drawing his jacket aside, he stared musingly out upon the sunlit grounds.

  “Yes, sir,” he murmured, deep in thought. “It’s going to be a right beautiful day.”

  With that he threw back his head and laughed heartily at some private joke. Brandon groaned and rolled his eyes upward, gritting his teeth.

  “Well, it’s a damned sorry day when a man’s own bedroom gets as public as a sale house on auction day. I’m going to have Ethan see about locks for these doors.”

  Jeff turned and with an amused smile, bowed. “Your pardon, sir. Had I been aware of your change of venue, I would have been more discreet. However, I would remind you, dear brother, that we have guests about and they grow worried about your absence. Shall I tell them you are ill?” At Brandon’s answering growl he laughed and continued. “Very well, I’ll simply tell them you’re lazy and will be down shortly.”

  He turned as if to go but faced them again. “I must remember to congratulate George. He’ll be happy to know he’s not a complete failure as a matchmaker.”

  He watched them in amused silence until the full impact of his words were brought home and they looked up almost in unison to stare at him in stunned surprise.

  “It’s quite all right. I’ve known the details for some time now, but don’t blame George too much. He was well into his cups and thought himself completely alone.” With another deep laugh he went to the door and there eyed Heather’s gown again and then grinned at Brandon. “You had a hell of a lot more willpower than I would have had, sweet brother.”

  He winked at Heather and chuckling to himself, turned and left, closing the door behind him.

  Brandon muttered something disagreeable about not being able to have any secrets or privacy and swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Heather laughed gaily and springing up, embraced him fiercely from behind.

  “Oh, it is a beautiful day, isn’t it, Brandon?”

  He smiled as he closed his eyes and rubbed his back against her bare breasts, delighting in the feel of them against him.

  “Indeed it is, sweet,” he breathed. “Indeed it is.”

  He got up suddenly and laughing, swung her off the bed and gave her a lustful pat on the naked buttocks.

  “If you don’t see about our son pretty soon, madam, he’ll have to wait just that much longer for his breakfast.”

  She giggled and came into his arms and stood up on her toes to kiss his lips, looping her arms about his neck.

  “Don’t go away. I plan to keep you within my sight most of the day.”

  He gave her a deep kiss, holding her tightly to him, and then sighed against her ear.

  “You’ll have trouble getting rid of me, m’lady.”

  Beau, seeming to sense his parent’s good spirits, was in the mood to play after his stomach had been adequately filled. He kicked his legs happily in his bath, splashing his mother, and chuckled merrily when his father spoke to him of his bad manners. When Heather carried him into the drawing room, he was more than content with the attention he received there from the guests who cooed and fussed over him.

  Mrs. Clark regarded the gleam in his father’s eyes and sat back, bracing her hand on her cane, and nodded slowly. “Well, Brandon, you look a great deal better tempered today than you did last night. Your night’s rest must indeed have done wonders for your disposition.”

  Jeff smothered a chuckle and received a warning glance from Brandon who turned and spoke to the woman in good humor.

  “Thank you, Abegail. It did. I do feel considerably better this morning.”

  He met Heather’s smiling eyes over his son’s head and his own were warm and bright.

  Daylight had almost flown when the last of the guests climbed into their carriages. A light repast had been served and hearty farewells made around. Most of the men had a last sample of Jeff’s whiskey warming their bellies, the women a last drink of cool water or a sip of chilled wine to shorten their trip some small whit.

  When the house was once more left to the Birminghams, they gathered in the drawing room to pass the evening leisurely. Heather sat with Beau on a quilt spread up
on the rug where he waved his arms excitedly and cooed and with bright eyes watched the dust motes that swam in a nearby shaft of sunlight. The babe drew chuckles from the men who sat nearby, Brandon on the settee within hands’ reach of his wife, and Jeff stretched out across from them in a comfortable chair, each sampling an evening libation of his choice.

  A rattle of a carriage and a thunder of hooves broke the quiet moment, and Louisa’s landau careened to a halt before the stoop. The woman stepped down with an eagerness and lightness of foot that belied the solemnity of her face. She bounced up the steps and flounced past Joseph to force her presence upon the small family without preamble. Before she spoke a word, she took the glass from Brandon’s hand and nearly drained it, abusing the fine brandy, then wrinkling her nose as if in distaste. He set the glass on the table when she handed it back, and Jeff smiled slightly at the subtle insult that went completely by her.

  “Well, Brandon,” she blurted out. “Once more you’ve given the gossips of Charleston something to talk about.”

  He raised an eyebrow in query at her statement and she explained breathlessly.

  “Sybil was found murdered this morning.” She half smiled at Heather’s gasp of surprise. “And you were seen with her yesterday on Meeting Street. In fact, you were apparently the last person to speak with her.”

  Something cold and dreadful began to grow deep inside Heather. She reached a hand to Brandon’s thigh and his slid over hers and gripped it reassuringly. A dead silence filled the room and everyone seemed to hold their breath. Louisa stiffened and almost frowned as she gazed at the clasped hands and then she continued on unchecked.

  “They found her in the woods outside the city with her neck broken. She was quite brutally abused. Poor girl, no one even missed her at the ball last night, did they? Her clothes were torn from her, and the surgeon says she was raped.” She raised a meaningful eyebrow to Heather then smiled at Brandon. “Of course I know you’d never treat a woman so, darling, but the sheriff has some doubts. In fact, he should be here soon. It seemed that Mrs. Scott had some definite ideas as to whom the beast might be.”