The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2 (22 page)

“Oh, no, missy, we ain’t through yet.” The man who had first held her laughed in the night wind. “I’m going to throw my torch on the roof of the Wright house one more time and see you burned out. You’re gonna learn, once and for all, that we don’t want your kind around here.”

He spurred his horse, charging into the night, and Kitty watched as he approached her little house, flinging his torch upon the roof. Two of the other laughing riders followed suit. The others, one of them carrying Gideon’s body on the back of his horse, moved slowly up the path.

The house leaped into flames, a brilliant orange and red splash against the blackness of the night. Jerome Danton hung back, staring down at Kitty, who watched the house burning, a frozen look of horror on her face. “I know what you are thinking,” he said quietly. “You are thinking how you will tell the sheriff that you can identify me as being a part of all this, but let me assure you I have an alibi ready for my defense. A charming young lady in Goldsboro will say that I have been with her all evening, so I will not be implicated in what has taken place here tonight. Don’t waste your breath making any charges against me. And be thankful I did not turn my men loose on you, for it would not have mattered to them in the least that you are very much pregnant. They would have taken you like an animal, for they hold only contempt for you. So you have that to thank me for.”

He paused. “And I can give you more for which to be grateful. Come to see me in a day or two, and I will offer you a fair price for your land, even though your house will be gone. You see, I am not altogether the unscrupulous scalawag you think I am.”

Her cold, stiff hands opened and closed slowly. How she longed to rake her nails down his face. Had it not been covered with that ridiculous hood, she would probably have given in to the temptation, no matter what the consequences. She was about to tell him just how contemptible he was when the sound of gunfire once again split the night air. “What…what is that…” she whispered in fearful anguish. “Jacob…they shot Jacob…”

There was more gunfire, and Jerome laughed. “No, that old nigger is probably miles from here by now, running as hard as he can to get as far away as possible. That’s your livestock my men are shooting, my dear, and your chickens, and anything else that breathes. They will destroy everything. We had planned to burn you out tonight before you attempted to intervene. It was all part of the plan, as punishment for harboring that outlaw.”

“Oh, dear God,” she murmured, her heart constricting with pain as she watched the house explode in a final shower of sparks and hungry licking flames. Covering her face with her hands, she could watch no longer. Everything was gone now. There was nothing left. Here, in the dead of winter, her home was burned to the ground, the livestock dead. Nothing left. It was over.

“Danton…” One of his men came charging back down the path, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Riders coming down the road fast. That nigger must’ve found help. We gotta get outa here, fast. We dropped the body. No time for that now. Gotta cut through the swamps…”

The others were scattering. Jerome was swinging himself up behind the man, upon the horse’s rump. They were one mount short due to the one Jacob had taken. In the illumination of the smoldering house, the flames still licking against the night sky, the two retreating forms were a perfect target. Kitty moved fast, despite the pain racking her body.

Her hands closed on the gun that had been knocked from her earlier. There was not much time to take aim, for they were moving toward the woods and the swamps beyond at a rapid pace. But she was an accurate shot, and she bore down and squeezed the trigger, and one more shot exploded in the night. A scream pierced the air. The horse kept moving. They disappeared into the forest…but one was injured. She hoped it was Jerome Danton. She prayed he was dead, his black soul on the way to burn forever in hell.

“Nolie…” Kitty gasped as another pain bore down upon her. The baby was coming. Dear Lord, the baby was about to be born. “Nolie, you’ve got to help me. Please…” She groped her way along the frozen ground, moving slowly on her hands and knees. Reaching the old Negro woman, she looked down at the face illuminated by the glow of the raging fire beyond.

Nolie did not move, even when Kitty reached out to slap her face gently. What could she do, here, alone, with her baby about to be born? And it was cold. Oh, precious God, it was so cold. She and the baby would both freeze to death. Where was Jacob? And why couldn’t she rouse Nolie? She prayed for strength to crawl into one of the shacks. There, at least, she would have shelter for the night, and she could only hope to endure the agony of labor and stay conscious to bring the baby into the world herself.

Suddenly voices pierced the air above the sound of horses’ hooves crunching into the frozen earth. “The shot came from back here. Hey, over there. I see bodies.”

Kitty wrapped her arms protectively around her swollen, contracting stomach as she rolled over onto her back. The pain was swooping down like an eagle in pursuit of its prey. “Help me,” she cried feebly. “My baby…help my baby…”

Someone was bending over her, smoothing her hair back from her brow. “It’s going to be all right, Kitty. I’ll take care of you. Trust me, please…”

Her eyes fluttered open. Everything was blurry, there in the strange red glow of night. Sweet oblivion begged to take her away from the nightmare, the pain.

She struggled to focus her eyes. The man’s face glowed orange in the light from the burning house and barn. For one precious moment, she saw eyes the color of steel. Her heart raced.
Travis.
He had returned, just as she always knew he would. But then, painfully, the gray faded, and she saw two fiery black eyes staring down at her beneath thick brows.

She saw the cleft in his chin, the neatly clipped moustache.

And she allowed oblivion to engulf her. For it was Corey McRae who scooped her gently into his arms and carried her to his horse.

Chapter Fifteen

Corey McRae stood before the marble fireplace, his hands folded behind his back as he gazed into the crackling flames. Above the mantel hung the portrait of himself that he had commissioned a Pennsylvania artist to paint. The expression in the oil-stroked face was much like the one Corey wore at the moment—pensive, cold. A look of power and confidence shone in the piercing black eyes.

The first rays of dawn streaked across the imported Persian rug, casting a bluish-purple hue upon the vivid scarlets and golds and yellows. The room smelled of lemon oil. His servants knew that every piece of the fine mahogany furniture was to be hand-rubbed and polished to a glossy sheen every day. He would tolerate no disarray in his house or in his life.

His gaze moved from the red flames to survey the beauty of this, his personal parlor. He loved the thick velvet drapes, a rich purple. He felt it gave him an air of royalty. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, and the white brocade sofas accented the splendor of the decor.

Beautiful, he thought, and smiled. This room, the whole mansion, the entire plantation, his hundreds and hundreds of acres of land, all splendid and beautiful. He had come a long way!

He was a happy man—except for two things.

He turned his gaze back to the fire, eyes glittering with anger and impatience. Jethro and Carl had not returned since he had sent them to kill Coltrane. That was months ago. There had been no word. He had sent out other men to find out what had happened, but they had returned dumbfounded, unable to learn anything. Coltrane had not returned either. That was a good sign. Perhaps there had been a gun battle with everyone killed. Fine. Then he did not risk being implicated in the killing.

He stared upward. His other goal lay in a bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He wanted Kitty Wright for his wife. But he did have his pride. He was not going to beg her. He wanted her totally submissive. There were many things he wanted to do to that spirited flesh. When he took her to bed, he wanted her docile, ready to grant his every wish, no matter how strange it might be.

But he also wanted her to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with him. He thought of the little trunk he kept hidden in the back of his bedroom closet, the devices that could bring pain and pleasure simultaneously. He would spread-eagle her upon his bed, tying her legs apart as far as possible, and then he would do the things to her body he had dreamed of doing. He would turn her on her knees, and lift her buttocks to him, and his organ would penetrate her from the rear, like an animal, and she would love it and beg him to do it again and again.

The throbbing between his legs was becoming unbearable. As much as he hated to satiate himself upon Nancy, he had to have relief. Stepping to a bell cord, he rang for a servant. Within seconds, the door to the parlor opened. Without turning around, he snapped, “Bring Mrs. Stoner to me at once.”

“Uhhh, Miz Stoner, she say she gonna stay in her room till Miz Wright out of the house.” The Negro servant spoke fearfully. “She say—”

“I don’t give a damn what Mrs. Stoner said,” Corey’s voice cracked like a whip. “I want her brought to me immediately, even if you have to carry her. And you can tell her she will regret it if she does not comply at once.”

“Yassuh.” The door closed with a quiet click.

He began removing his clothes, tossing them carelessly upon one of the sofas. Nancy was a despicable bitch, and he was anxious for the day when he could turn her out of the mansion for good. She did, however, have a nicely shaped body, and she did give in to his every whim, wanting only to satisfy his lust. But she was quite blunt about her intentions. She was not content to be his mistress. She wanted to be Mrs. Corey McRae, and he had no intention of marrying her.

The door opened, and he turned to see Nancy standing there, her face an angry mask, eyes glittering. She was fully clothed. Damn, he thought in exasperation, she should have known what he wanted. He summoned her only when he wanted sex. She should have put on her dressing gown. “Take your clothes off,” he snarled impatiently, his eyes flicking over her. “And be quick about it.”

Nancy’s smile was mocking. “What’s the matter, Corey? Have you become aroused over the mere thought of having that bitch upstairs? Do you actually think you are going to take out your passion on me? I have pride, you know, and I will not tolerate—”

He was across the room almost before Nancy realized he was moving. With one quick jerk of his powerful hands, her gown was ripped to her waist. He continued tearing until she stood before him naked, and then he threw her roughly to the floor.

“How dare you…” she cried indignantly, wrestling against his caresses as he squeezed her breasts painfully.

“I won’t have it, Corey. I won’t let you take me this way.”

He slapped her hard. Stunned, she could only lie there as he grasped her knees and yanked them apart, plunging into her roughly. He wanted only satisfaction, as quickly as possible. Kitty’s breasts were the ones he wanted to kiss and suckle. Kitty’s lips should be melding against his. Now he wanted only to empty himself of the gnawing desire.

Kitty…Kitty…Kitty…his brain screamed as he thrust his hips to and fro, pummeling his organ into the woman lying on the floor, helpless. It was not long in coming, the sudden rush from his loins that exploded to leave him spent. He opened his eyes to look down at Nancy’s cold, angry face, and he wished with all his being that Kitty were lying beneath him, staring back with love.

He got up and began dressing hurriedly, mumbling to Nancy that she could go.

“Oh, I can, can I?” She leaped to her feet indignantly. “You call me in here like a…a servant, and then you rip my clothes off and throw me on the floor and rape me.”

“Rape you?” he snorted contemptuously. “No man ever had to rape you, Nancy. You were merely angry and wanted to play games, that’s all. Now go. I want to be alone.”

“I will not leave until I have had my say. I want that woman out of this house. I may be just your mistress and not your wife, Corey, but I am due some respect. Everyone knows what she is. How dare you bring shame upon this house by allowing her to give birth to her bastard here? How could you do it?”

“I don’t owe you any explanation for what I do, Nancy.”

“I refuse to remain here as long as she is here.”

They faced each other, both incensed to the point of trembling. “I want you out of my house,” Corey said in a harsh whisper. “I want you out within an hour. Kitty has had a rough time of it, and she is very weak and will need much time to regain her strength. Having you about can only cause tension.”

“Because I make no secret of the fact that I despise her?” Nancy gave her long hair a defiant toss. “I have my reasons.”

“Yes, yes, I have heard your reasons,” Corey said wearily. “Now will you just go?”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You are serious? You are actually telling me to leave this house after I have been your mistress all these months? How dare you, Corey McRae, to treat me so shabbily? I demand respect…”

“Nancy, I never promised you anything. I did not even invite you to come here and live with me. It just happened. You kept staying and staying, and the next thing I knew, you’d had your things moved in and become a permanent fixture, or so you thought. I never had any intentions of having you stay here forever. The time has come for you to leave. It’s that simple.”

“Simple?” she screeched, her face contorting with rage. “You call it simple to just kick me out because that bitch lies upstairs, making herself at home? What will my friends think? How can I face people when they learn that I was tossed aside for Kitty Wright? She has caused me scorn for the last time. I won’t stand for it, Corey. I swear to you I won’t.”