After Morse’s departure, Major Borden turned to Raimond. “How dare you undermine my directives.”
“This discussion is over, Major Borden. If you have a complaint, write to Washington.”
He turned to the many soldiers who’d gathered in support of Sable and directed them back to whatever they’d been doing. They all complied, but they went away with proud smiles on their faces and a story they would tell their grandchildren about the brave Major LeVeq and how he’d saved Sable Fontaine from her former master.
A
fter the yard cleared and Borden stormed away, Sable walked over to the tall, bearded major. “Thank you. I’ve never had a champion before.”
“Glad to be of service. Was there a murder?”
Put so directly, the question made her wonder for a moment if he’d believed Morse’s claims. “Yes.”
“Your father?”
She nodded.
“Were you involved?”
“I was present, but I didn’t cause his death.”
“If those two go to my superior officers, I want to be able to argue the truth so I’ll need to hear your side of the story.”
“Then ask me to eat dinner with you.”
Raimond’s face showed his surprise. “You’re asking to dine with me?”
“I thought it might be nice to share your company and to tell you the story too. Is that too forward?”
“No, no,” he reassured her. “I find it amazing, is all. I don’t have to beg or slay a dragon in exchange?”
“You already have,” she replied softly. “And you were very timely.”
“I was already on my way over to see you when I ran into Mrs. Tubman. She was very upset and said you needed help.”
“And I did.”
“Do you really wish to spend the evening with me?”
“Why do you find that so hard to believe? I thought we had a wonderful time last night.”
“I shall come for you at dusk.”
“I’ll be ready.”
He bowed gracefully and was gone.
Araminta, who’d been standing off to the side observing, walked over to Sable. “He’s going to be all you’ll ever need.”
“For what?”
“For life.”
Sable turned and stared. “What do you mean?”
“Just keep on living, Sable, and you’ll see.”
As the day continued, none of the men in the ward mentioned the morning’s incident and Sable mentally thanked them for respecting her privacy.
No one respected the afternoon’s lunch fare, however. On the tin plates handed out to the soldiers were portions of what the army called dessicated vegetables. The troops thought the word “desecrated” described the vegetable more accurately. The compressed, dried cakes of mixed vegetables were rationed to each soldier in a piece that weighed about an ounce. Once the little cake was soaked in water or wine, it swelled to an amazing size, revealing tasteless layers of cabbage, sliced carrot, turnips, an occasional onion, and any other vegetable the makers had found to include.
Next to the desecrated vegetables were pieces of what the men called “embalmed” beef—their name for the tinned meat supplied to the Union by the meat-packing houses of Chicago. Sable decided she wasn’t hungry.
She was quite hungry by the time dusk fell though. Araminta had taken a group of children out on an herb hunt and hadn’t returned, so Sable had the little tent to herself. She used the makehift shower behind the hospital to wash herself clean, then took a moment to run a comb and brush through her unruly dark hair. She
refashioned the thick length into a knot on the nape of her neck and pinned it down. She didn’t have to spend any time debating her wardrobe; she possessed only two dresses, and both were bloodstained and old. The one she had on, a very washed out, navy-blue shirtwaist and skirt, also bore the dust and dirt of the day. She gave the skirts a shake, brushed off the shirtfront, and that was that. If the major wanted a perfumed woman in silk and satin, he’d have to wait until he returned to Louisiana.
To her complete surprise, he rode up on the beautiful black stallion they’d shared on her first arrival in camp. “He’s truly a magnificent animal,” she said.
“I’ve had him since he was a colt. Sable, meet Pegasus.”
“Hello, Pegasus,” she said with a curtsy.
The horse gave her a stately bow in return, and she laughed in surprise. “He’s trained?”
“To ride into the jaws of death, if need be,” Raimond bragged, patting the animal’s powerful neck. “We are here to carry you off. Are you still willing?”
“I am.”
“Then let’s get you aboard.”
He maneuvered the horse to her side, then reached down and lifted her effortlessly. She settled before him in the saddle. “Very gallant, Sir Knight.”
“Only the best for my queen.”
His whispered words and the glint in his dark eyes set her heart to pounding, making her confess unintentionally, “You’re very overwhelming, Major.”
“So are you, Your Majesty, so turn around before I kiss you.”
She dropped her head with a smile of embarrassment and did as she was told.
The tender threat stayed with her as they rode through the camp under the watchful, knowing eyes of the residents. The sight of her riding away with the major would undoubtedly cause talk and speculation for weeks
to come, but Sable wouldn’t worry about that, not now. Thinking about being kissed by him and the passion they’d shared in the treetops gave her more than enough to dwell upon.
The pale light of the rising moon partially illuminated the landscape and the empty road ahead of them as they left the camp. Raimond’s solid presence behind her was potent, vital, and as impossible to ignore as the sheltering circle of his arms as he guided the reins. She felt as if they were lovers bound for a midnight tryst.
They stopped a ways down the road before a burned-out mansion illuminated by torches stuck in the ground. The once grand house looked as if it had been brought down by cannon fire. The roof was gone, and the remaining outer walls stood ragged in the soft light. Raimond guided Pegasus up the weed-choked walk. As they approached, Sable saw two armed soldiers standing guard on the porch.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“Our dining salon.”
Skeptical, Sable looked around. “And the men?”
“Security detail. There are renegade Rebs running loose in the area. They hit a camp south of here a few days ago. Reports have them heading north. The soldiers are here to keep an eye out.”
“We could have eaten at camp, then.”
“I know, but what would have been the fun in that?”
“You like danger, Major.” She spoke it as fact, not a question.
“Sometimes. Sometimes for the fun of it, other times because it is necessary.”
“Into which category does tonight fall?”
“Both. I wouldn’t intentionally expose you to danger, but I wanted us to have some privacy. Do you approve?”
“Yes, I think I do.”
He dismounted and held out his hands. He gently grasped her by the waist, then slowly, very slowly,
brought her to the ground. She drew in a shaky breath as the heat of their bodies mingled. Attempting to draw a steady breath became even more difficult as he traced his finger across her cheek.
“Come,” he whispeed.
Sable placed her hand in his, and feeling recklessness return, let him usher her inside.
He guided her on a torchlit journey through the debris-strewn house and up an iron staircase to the second floor. One of the inner rooms was ablaze with additional torches. The wavering light illuminated a central table covered with a beautiful white cloth. Sable stared amazed at the gleaming crystal and the shining porcelain plates. Sparkling silver serving dishes lay covered and waiting. Sable didn’t know what to say. For the past week she’d waded in blood and watched men die. Before coming to the camp, she’d had to work from sunup to sundown just to survive. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d experienced beauty of any kind.
“It’s lovely,” she whispered.
He raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed the tips of her fingers. “You deserve a bit of beauty in your life.”
Tucking her hand back into his own, he guided her to the table and politely helped her with her seat while cautioning, “One leg of the chair is shorter than the other, so be careful.”
Sable sat gingerly until she was certain the chair would support her weight. He sat opposite her on a chair with no back.
“Who do I have to thank for this lovely table besides you?”
“Our precious cook, and the ever resourceful Renaud.”
“Please do thank them for me.”
“I will.”
Raimond looked across the table at his companion and wished he were home in Louisiana so he could entertain
her royally. Broken chairs and a room with no roof were far below his usual standard. Were they back home, she would be draped in a beautiful gown, her skin perfumed, her neck adorned with jewels. They would leisurely sample the most succulent dishes his cook had to offer, and he would feed them to her one by one. He—
“You’re staring again, Major.”
He shook himself. “It’s begun to be habit, I’m thinking. My apologies.”
“None needed. It doesn’t really bother me. It’s simply hard to know what you’re thinking, and I wonder if I have said or done something to offend you.”
“Never. It’s my own preoccupation with you.”
“More flattery?”
“More truth.”
“Truth or not, it’s good to hear.”
“Shall we dine?”
“As long as there’s no skillygalee or lobcourse beneath the covers.”
Skillygalee was a Union specialty made from hardtack soaked in water and fried in pork grease. In the mornings the crackling scent of it filled the camp’s air.
Raimond smiled. “It’s a wonder our soldiers have the strength to fight at all, considering what they’re forced to eat. No, there’ll be no skillygalee or lobcourse tonight.”
“Bless you.”
Under the covered dishes were savory potatoes and a sweet, well-prepared fish. Accompanying them were more of the wonderful biscuits and slices of pound cake.
To Sable, who’d been subjected to the camp’s spare diet, all the offerings tasted heavenly. “Is it wrong to wish to eat this well all the time?”
“When the war ends I will treat you to the most fabulous meals you can imagine.”
“With or without desecrated vegetables?”
He grinned. “Without, certainly.”
“Then I shall hold you to that promise too, even if it takes me a decade to find you again.”
“It shouldn’t be that hard. Especially if you will agree to what I have planned.”
“Which is?”
“To send you home to my mother in Louisiana until the Rebs surrender.”
Sable struggled to hide her consternation. “Why?”
“So you will be safe.”
She looked around the torchlit room. “Do you come here often?”
“Only occasionally. This is where I retreat when I need a respite from the camp. You aren’t going to answer me?”
“The house must have been lovely at one time.”
“I’m sure it was. The iron staircase reminds me of my mother’s house. Sable?”
“Do you think the South will ever be restored?”
“You can’t put off answering forever.”
She supposed he was right, so she looked across the candles and into his waiting eyes and replied, “Major, I am flattered by your offer, but no.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t impose on your mother that way. Whatever would she think of me, arriving on her doorstep like a foundling?”
“She would welcome you and care for you until my return.”
“And then?”
“I will set you up in rooms so that I may visit you whenever I wish. We’d have to agree that you would see me exclusively.”
“Uh huh.” She studied him before asking with amusement, “You simply assume I would say yes to being your mistress?”
“Why, of course.”
She shook her head. “Major, Major, Major. Having so many women at your disposal for so many years has
definitely been unhealthy for you. I have no desire to be your mistress or anyone else’s.”
“Why not?”
Sable pretended to think deeply. “Well, let’s see. I’ve been a slave for thirty years, subject to the whims of whoever owned me. Why in heaven would I trade my newly found freedom for a different kind of enslavement?”
Her reply seemed to surprise him. “I never viewed it that way,” Raimond confessed grudgingly.
“I know. The females in your life must spoil you terribly.”
He chuckled as he drained his cup. “You’re a hard woman, my queen.”
“And you are a very tempting man, Sir Knight. Too tempting, I think.”
He lowered his cup and offered sincerely, “Good, then maybe there is hope for me yet.”
The air surrounding them seemed to have warmed. She found her attention settling on his full lips. The memory of the kisses they’d shared reawakened her senses. “I do enjoy your kisses though.”
“Do you?” he asked in a voice as soft as the star-studded night.
“Yes, I do.”
“Then come here. Let’s see if you like this one…”
The invitation touched her like heat. Her heart began a quick cadence as she set aside her silverware and napkin. She stood on trembling legs and took the few steps necessary to place her at his side. She only wished she could stop shaking.
Still seated, Raimond reached out and lightly traced her mouth, filling her with a sweet need. The first kiss was soft, gentle. His warm, knowing lips seemed to be learning her all over again, exploring her, tempting her to join him in a kiss that promised more. Tiny licks of his tongue sparked against the corners of her mouth, and her lips parted like African blooms.
“I enjoy your kisses too…” he breathed. Placing a possessive hand at the small of her back, he brought her closer, deepening the kiss. He held her like a lover, his manhood pulsing in response to her passionate sweetness. Her mouth, as potent as Spanish wine, wove a spell that bound them together. Virgin or not, she must be his here, now.
He eased her down into his lap, his mouth continuing to seek, moving to the shell of her ear and to the curling hair at her temple. His hand began to trace circles over her back, and he felt her trembling response against his palm. “I would never enslave you,
bijou
. Never.”