The Wicked North (Hearts Touched By Fire Book 1) (4 page)

When Emma and her mother returned to Rose Hill later in the afternoon, Sally said that Caroline was resting.
It was four o’clock in the afternoon—whatever was she doing sleeping at that hour?
Emma wondered.

Walking out to the stables, she found Angel. “Hello there, pretty,” she petted the horse’s muzzle and the mare’s head dropped as she nickered at her.

Billy walked along the barn aisle but didn’t stop to greet Emma, and she thought he couldn’t see her behind Angel. She ran her hand down the mare’s back to her rump and rested it there as she looked at her cousin.

“And good afternoon to you, too,” she mocked.

His step faltered. Surprised, Emma wondered why her voice had startled him so.

Billy turned, trying to clear his thoughts. “Sorry, Emma, didn’t see you there. Good afternoon.”

She thought his voice sounded odd and noticed his cheeks turned red. Was he blushing? She dismissed the idea. Sunbeams streamed between the slats of the barn’s roof, and the heat must have colored Billy’s face.

“I’m thinkin’ about taking Angel for a ride. Care to join us?” She smiled at him.

With a quick shake of his head, he said, “No, no, I’s got some work to be doin’ with that new colt.”

She frowned. He’d never turned down a ride with her before. “Oh, yes, how silly of me to forget.”

He grinned as though he was relieved. Then his smile became hopeful. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Yes, definitely.”

Whistling, Billy walked away.

How strange
, Emma thought as she began grooming her mare.

It’s just like shooting squirrels, only these squirrels have guns.

—A veteran Union soldier, instructing new recruits in musket drill

Chapter Four

March 1854

Leslie opened the letter with her eyes closed and inhaled. She opened them and smirked. “Vanilla?”

Jack hummed in agreement, his fingers playing absently with the loose tendril of curled ebony hair, releasing it on her bare back. Sated, they laid on the mattress, bedsheets mussed from their lovemaking, their bodies covered with a sheen of moisture.

Leslie was on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. Jack was on his side next to her, his fingers tracing the line of her back to the swell of her buttocks.

“Jack, stop that,” she chided as his fingers skimmed the wetness between her legs.

Moaning, he fell on his back. “Sorry, my dear, do continue.”

March at the Point was still cold outside. It had been snowing the previous evening when Jack arrived at Mrs. Turnbull’s Hospitality Inn, the local brothel. Leslie was his favorite and the one he wanted when he needed a break from school. Many cadets went to Benny Havens’ pub, an off-limits retreat Jack also enjoyed. It was near the Point and, of course, forbidden by the administration. But Mrs. Turnbull’s was close behind in location and attraction.

“My Dearest Jack,” Leslie read aloud. “Oh, my darling, the winter is so long without you.” She paused and turned to him. “Winter? Just how bad can winter be in,” she flipped the letter over, “Virginia?”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “It can be cold there too, Les. Even snow.”

She snorted. “Do they get a foot of snow like we got last night?”

“Generally, no.” It was one thing he despised about the North. He doubted he’d ever get accustomed to the cold, snow and ice. Back home, in southern Louisiana, it seemed balmy in comparison. “In fact, though, it’s dreadfully cold.” He snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

She laughed. “Stop it, Jack. How I can read this if you keep interrupting me?”

He growled into her shoulder blade.

“All I can do to get through these long months without you is to remember your kiss…,” Leslie raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged.

With a clenched fist, she turned to hit his chest. “Oh pray, do tell!”

Her position gave him the advantage he needed to scoop up her hips and wiggle his body underneath hers. He let her continue to read the letter, but in the glow from the fireplace, her body glistened, and another part of him stirred.

“Jack,” she chided, sitting across his hips, his hardened cock snuggled between their bodies. She still held the letter. “Let’s see what else she has to say.”

He gave her a wicked grin as his cock twitched. She ignored him and read out loud more of the simpering letter he’d received the previous day. Caroline’s words coming from the whore’s mouth seemed comical to him. His fingers wandered up her sides to her breasts. Reaching underneath her hands that still held the letter, he cupped both globes and pinched her nipples.

Leslie dissolved with laughter. “Signed with all my love, Caroline.” She looked at him. “Love? Caroline? But that hankie you carry has ‘ES’ embroidered on it.”

ES—Emma Silvers. His body hummed when he thought of her. He had kept the handkerchief, her token, because returning it was virtually impossible afterward. He carried it with him, in his pocket, every day. Leslie found it last time he was there, and he refused to answer her probing questions about it.

He raised his hips, his arousal nudging her most sensitive part, drawing her attention just as he planned. She slickened, and he wanted to be back inside her. “Enough, Les.”

“Oh Jack, Caroline is not who you want to hear from, is she?”

“Yes, she is.” He lifted her hips and then lowered her, impaling her with his erection.

She moaned as the letter fluttered to the floor. He liked when she rode him, her breasts swaying above his face and her long black hair feathering his fingers as he held her hips.

“That’s it,” he coaxed, his bollocks tightening with each thrust. “Come for me.”

Her head fell back, and she uttered a deep groan. He felt her sheath tighten around him.

A loud pounding thudded on the door. Jack and Leslie ignored it and continued.

“Fontaine!”

Jack’s eyes rolled backwards as he pumped his cock higher.

“Fontaine, open up!”

“Go to hell, Stuart!” He bellowed. Leslie giggled—a sound that hitched with his next thrust into her.

The door opened slightly. “Jack, the Colonel wants you in his office,” Jeb Stuart’s voice came through the open door. “Now.”

Jack stopped moving. “Now? I’m busy.”

“I realize that but thought you’d like to know.” Stuart muffled a laugh.

“Dammit!” Jack lifted Leslie off him and rolled off the mattress to grab his pants. Looking up, he saw the door was still ajar. “Thanks, you ass!” He kicked the door shut, hearing his fellow cadet’s boots departing as his laughter echoed along the hallway.

#

Jack pulled the great coat tighter around his neck as the winter gale swept across the field on his way to the superintendent’s home. Snow crunched under his boots, making him wish he was still in Leslie’s bed, her hot body keeping him warm. Whatever the Colonel wanted him for, Jack couldn’t fathom, but it’d better be worth it.

Still on his mind was the letter. It was one of many he had received from Caroline this school year. His last year at The Point. After spending the summer with Charles’ family, he felt a part of them. It felt good, unlike how he regarded his own family. The birthday girl had taken every opportunity to be with him and Charles, dragging most of the other guests along with them. By the time he’d left in August, he had grown to enjoy Caroline’s company and asked whether he could write to her. He grinned as she enthusiastically accepted. An odd compulsion prompted him to also ask Emma on one of the rare occasions when he saw her. After first hesitating, she told him yes.

Caroline wrote constantly.

Emma never wrote. And that bothered Jack more than he cared to admit.

Caroline was the prettier sister, the more outgoing and vivacious. Her lively letters reminded him of summer and carefree days. He’d even laughed out loud at some of her tales.

And that kiss. They played parlor games on numerous occasions, and several of them included a kissing component. Caroline knew every one of them. Her lips were soft and willing. Definitely made the game enjoyable, to say the least. But Emma never participated. Jack didn’t think she was too young for them and knew she watched, hiding rather poorly in the shadows of the staircase. Either her parents wouldn’t let her play, or, he suspected, it was because of Caroline. The woman wanted no competition. A wicked thought raced through him—he wanted to kiss Emma and see whether her plump little pink lips tasted as good as they looked. That thought made him huddle deeper in his greatcoat. The cold must be getting to him.

At the Colonel’s house, the butler let Jack in, taking his coat and escorting him to the front parlor to wait. Still chilled from the walk, he went to the fireplace, trying to thaw. He heard steady footsteps coming down the wood-floored hallway to the parlor. On the heel of his sodden boot, Jack turned, standing at attention.

Brevet Colonel Robert E. Lee walked into the room with a bundle of papers in his arm. Dressed in his Army blue uniform, he took a seat at the large stuffed chair.

“Son,” Lee stated warmly, pulling the side table in front of him and dumping his papers on it. “Take a seat.”

Jack went to the armchair across from Colonel Lee and slowly sat. Lee had entertained the cadets, including Jack, in his house several times, but Jack had never been summoned alone, much less on a Sunday afternoon. Lee was a religious man, and, though recruits were required to attend Sunday services, Jack hadn’t gone this morning. Instead he was with Leslie. Surely he wasn’t being reprimanded over missing Sunday services.

Lee fumbled through his papers until he found what he needed. Withdrawing a sheet, he looked up at Jack. The Colonel, graduate of the class of 1829, made it through the Point without any demerits and was assigned to the prestigious Corp of Engineers. The perfect soldier. Jack fought the urge to tug at his collar. The intensity of the dark-haired Lee’s eyes made him uncomfortable.

“Ahem,” Lee coughed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your afternoon, Cadet Fontaine.”

Jack’s eyes closed. Damn, the Colonel must have been assessing his appearance and saw his hair was still a mess from romping with Leslie. Part of Jack feared that the man knew why he looked rumpled. Not good. Lee wasn’t the type to condone his men laying with whores. Jack swallowed the knot in his throat.

“I understand, Jack, the Army has you to thank for Cadet Silvers’ improved grade.”

Jack frowned and then blinked. He had been called here because of Charles? The fact that the Colonel knew about Charles didn’t surprise Jack. Lee was familiar with most of the cadets and felt at ease with them. Charles being a fellow Virginian helped, plus the fact that Jack and Charles were in the class of ’54—the same class that included the Colonel’s son, George Washington Custis Lee.

“I have tutored him, yes, on occasion,” Jack replied.

Lee gave him a half-laugh and settled back in his chair. “Jack, I called you here for another purpose, though I did want to say thank you for that. Charles is a good man and should do well—that is, if he can pass the final exams.”

Jack sat more erect and looked straight ahead. “Of course sir, I have no doubt he will do so.”

“Good, good,” the Colonel stated. He brought the paper in his hand closer, reviewing it one more time. “Son, I understand your grades are starting to slip some.”

Jack grimaced. He had allowed them to slip on purpose—not to failing level, but they weren’t as high as they had been the previous three years. And it hadn’t escaped Lee’s notice. He was involved with his students and always investigated when their grades fell. He also wrote the students’ parents to apprise them. No doubt he had written Jack’s parents. “I don’t think my grades will continue on a downward spiral, sir.”

Lee smiled. “That’s what I want to hear. But, there is a letter here I wanted to talk to you about. A letter the War Department has received from your father.”

Jack felt a jolt of fear run up his spine. He gritted his teeth, preparing for what he knew would come. And the reason for his drop in grades…

“Your father requested that you be stationed at New Orleans Barracks upon graduation.”

His heart thudded. He knew this would happen. That man would do anything to make him return home. Still sitting rigidly, Jack tightly clasped the arms of the chair.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lee was assessing his reaction.

“I see,” Lee finally said, folding the missive up again. “You realize, Jack, the Army is not prone to listen to the desires of family requests, despite any political pull they may have.”

Jack looked to his commander, his gaze boring into Lee. His father had strong political influence with the senators from Louisiana and the Secretary of War, Jefferson Davis, a family acquaintance. No doubt the man had called in favors—damn! “Sir, I’d prefer not to be stationed there.”

Lee laughed. “No, I suspect that’s why you’ve let your grades drop. You’d rather go to Jefferson Barracks and west, fighting the Indians?”

“Yes, sir,” he answered with quick determination.

With a slight shake of his head, Lee’s gaze turned warm. “Well, Jack, pull your grades up. Despite your father’s connections, I do not think New Orleans Barracks will be your home.”

Jack stood. He felt drained as his tension began dissipating, and he fought to maintain his posture. “Thank you, sir.” At Lee’s nod, Jack turned and left.

#

July 1854

The class of 1854 assembled on the parade grounds, center field. Wearing dress uniforms, they stood in formation before the review stand. The other classes grouped in similar fashion behind them. Jack’s stance was like the rest of the cadets, perfectly straight. He dared not look at the people watching from the sides of the field—families of the graduates. His mother was to be here, but he prayed his father wouldn’t attend.

After the ceremony, the graduates were congratulated by Lee and several dignitaries from the government and the Army, with families applauding from the sidelines.

“We did it!” Charles exclaimed, slapping Jack on the back.

Jack smiled. Only by the skin of his teeth had Charles made it through exams. Stuart came up to them, a cigar already clenched in his teeth. With the formal festivities finished, he pulled his red silk neck scarf out of his collar and let the ends of it flutter in the wind. “Beauty” Stuart, in all his flamboyancy, grinned. Even with the man’s numerous demerits, he had graduated thirteenth in a class of forty-six. Jack had placed at number eighteen. Both ranked much higher than Charles at forty-fifth place.