Through the Storm (18 page)

Sable knew the whispered French word
bijou
meant “jewel.” And that was how she felt seated atop his thighs, like a finely treasured jewel. She guessed he employed this potent mix of words and kisses all the time, and she now understood why females adored him so. The idea that she was probably only one of hundreds of women he’d had just this way cooled some of her ardor and made her slowly break the kiss so she could catch her breath.

Raimond assumed he had overwhelmed her, so he contented himself with tracing the skin over her jaw while waiting for her to gather herself. He’d thought he would be content with just touching her, but now knew it would not be enough. Fueled by the need for her, he pressed fleeting kisses against her jaw, brow, and temple, silently pleasuring her in this leisurely way.

“I can’t think clearly,” she confessed in a hush.

“It is only fair,
bien-aimé
. I’ve been unable to think clearly since the day we met…”

He slowly recaptured her lips; this kiss pulsed with power. Lacking defenses against him, Sable willingly surrendered once again.

When he finally drew away, she swore the room was spinning. Her nostrils were flared, her lips parted, and he was smiling down at her like the proverbial satisfied tiger.

Looking up into his handsome face, she confessed without shame, “I see why the women throw themselves in your path.”

He responded with a chuckle. “Finally you give me the proper respect. I should kiss you more often.”

In fact, he did just that, making the room spin even more, then eased his lips slowly and reluctantly from hers. “Now you can go finish your cake.”

A bedazzled Sable returned to her seat and ate her pound cake under the close scrutiny of his glowing tiger’s eyes. Every time their gazes locked, her newly awakened passion pulsed unashamedly. Being here with him made her think about Bridget and all the wild and scandalous talks they’d had about men and how to be a sorceress of unimaginable delights. She could tell by his kisses that LeVeq was a man of experience. He could undoubtedly teach her much about the passion that Bridget called a necessary element in the lives of men and women—were Sable of a mind to be taught. She thought she might be. She doubted she would ever find a man to court her as heatedly as the major, regardless of his intentions, and she knew without being told that a woman’s memories of a passionate encounter with a man like him would last a lifetime. After she’d faced the harsh realities of survival these past few years, a part of her welcomed such a memory.

She finished the dessert, left him at the table, and walked over to the edge of the room. The outer wall stood no longer, enabling her to look out over the black surroundings. She decided she needed to tell him the story of Mahti’s death before the evening advanced any further. He’d expressed an interest in hearing the story behind Morse’s charges, and now seemed as good a time as any. Looking back over her shoulder at him still seated at the table, she asked, “Will you come sit with me? I’ve a story to tell.”

He nodded and moved to her side.

She sat down and let her legs dangle over the floor’s
edge. He followed suit, pleased that she apparently had no fear of her precarious perch.

“It began a long time ago…”

She told him the story of the Old Queen and the circumstances surrounding her death. Next came the tale of her mother, Azelia, and her tragic ending. Sable then chronicled her own story, telling him how she’d been slated to be sold and of Mahti’s demise. “She walked into the fire and never looked back…”

“Carson Fontaine was the only person still in the house?”

“Yes.”

Pain and grief rose within Sable as fresh as if Mahti’s death had happened yesterday. She wondered if the ache would ever heal. “Morse has wanted to own me for a long time. I was about fourteen summers when he first tried to buy me. Back then he was the son of a dirt-poor hog farmer, and Carson Fontaine laughed at the offer. But Henry Morse has grown very wealthy scavenging off the war, and the respectable families now invite him into their homes. He cornered me in the kitchen at Sally Ann’s last New Year’s party in ’62 when he was so drunk, he could hardly stand. He kept spouting foul and crude suggestions about how I might help him usher in the new year and then he attempted to show me how. If Otis the houseman hadn’t happened in and threatened him with a buggy whip, I believe he would have done me harm.”

Raimond wanted Morse dead, on the spot, but kept his thoughts to himself.

“You loved Mahti very much, it seems.”

“Yes, I did. Even though Carson took me into the house, Mahti raised me. She even named me, she said. Named me Sable, hoping my skin would darken up.”

Raimond smiled.

Sable smiled too. “Of course it didn’t. Now, with Rhine gone, I’ve no one left.”

The night breeze teased the candles, making them flicker.

“Have you accepted your brother’s decision?”

“I’m handling it a bit better now than I did initially. I finally realized that there isn’t anything I can do. I’ll always wonder about him and I’ll always love him, but he’s chosen his path.”

Raimond heard the sadness in her tone. As always, he wanted to give her comfort.

She added softly, “I learned this morning that Avery and his family are leaving also. They’re being sponsored by a church in Rhode Island. I’d hoped to know them longer.”

“People will always ebb and flow through your life.”

“I know, but life seemed so much more settled before the war. Folks had friends, acquaintances—now nothing seems permanent anymore. I keep telling myself it’s a good thing, slavery is dying after all, but I must admit, I don’t know if I can bear to lose someone else I care about.”

He draped his arm across her shoulders and coaxed her closer. Smiling at his understanding, she placed her head on his comforting chest and savored being held. “Being with the men at the hospital gives me other things to think about besides my own misery. I can’t very well feel sorry for myself after witnessing their sufferings. My broken heart seems such a small thing in comparison to men who’ll have to live out their lives with one leg or no arms.”

Talking about the men sent her thoughts back to this morning’s altercation. “Major Borden was not real pleased with you today.”

“Good, because I’m not real pleased with him either.”

“Why in the world would he be assigned to Black troops?”

“Because his past record makes him unfit to command anywhere else.”

She drew back. “What do you mean?”

“He’s fouled up every White command he’s ever been involved in, according to the reports Andre received. There are also whispers that he embezzled unit funds.”

“Then why hasn’t he been discharged?”

“Because his father is a very influential politician in Washington. Rather than send him home in disgrace, and embarrass his powerful family, army command reassigned him to the United States Colored Troops. They seem to feel he can’t foul up an assignment that only involves rebuilding railroads.”

“He has little respect for the race.”

“You’re being far too kind, Sable. The man’s as bigoted as a Reb. Mrs. Tubman told me about the disrespectful way he spoke to her.”

“He was very rude, but you set him right.” She looked up into his eyes and added seriously, “We made an enemy today. I could see it in his face.”

“I agree.”

“Do you believe he will make trouble?”

“I’d be very surprised if he didn’t. That’s another reason why I want to send you to my mother. If you aren’t here, you won’t have to worry about him.”

She placed her hand against his bearded cheek. “Once again, the answer is no. But thank you.”

“You’re very stubborn, Your Majesty.”

“Most queens are.”

He turned her palm to his lips and pressed a soft kiss there. “I won’t bring the subject up again.”

“Bless you.”

The stars were now out in full force. Sable looked up at them overhead and said, “If I were your mistress, do you know the very first thing I’d want you to teach me?”

Raimond could not believe she’d asked such a question. “What?”

“The names of all the stars and how to be guided by them when I’m sailing the world.”

“Oh.”

She looked his way. “Is something wrong?”

He started to lie, then decided not to. “Not really. I just assumed you meant something different.”

“Something a bit more carnal, I’m guessing?”

He chuckled.

“Men,” she declared sagely. “What is your ship named?”

“Are you sure there’s not something else you need my tutoring in?”

“No, you handsome devil. What’s the name of your ship?”

He leaned over and kissed her soundly. In the hazy aftermath, Sable heard him whisper the name
Andromeda
.

Somehow she managed to ask, “After the constellation?”

“Yes, and because Andromeda was an Ethiopian princess.”

Sable straightened. “Really?”

“Really. She and Perseus became lovers after he rescued her. She bore his children, but I don’t believe he ever married her.”

“I’ve read that myth many times. I never knew she was an African.”

“The name Andromeda means captive princess.”

“I’m impressed by your knowledge, Sir Knight.”

“And here you thought I knew only about women.”

“I never said that. But it is apparent that you are very learned in that area.”

“No one has ever complained.”

“And I will not be the first,” she tossed back saucily.

“I could kiss you until dawn and still not be satisfied.”

Sable blinked at his blunt speech, even as the heat of
his words made her senses simmer. “And I’m of a mind to let you have your way.”

“You banter well for such an innocent,” he whispered, tracing her beautiful full mouth with a long dark finger.

“Blame it on Bridget,” Sable replied, trembling under the intensity in his gaze. “She’s taken it upon herself to lecture me on all I’ll need to know to be a real woman…”

He kissed her then, a real man kissing a real woman, and Sable’s passion swam up to meet his own. He pulled her closer and she rose to her knees to keep from losing his kiss. His hand began lazily to slide her skirt against her thighs, then circle higher to her hip. Heat rose like a fever on her skin. He brushed his mouth against hers. “
Bijou
…If I don’t see you safely home right now, you aren’t going to have a stitch of clothing on…”

“Then I suppose you should take me home,” she replied breathlessly. The heated promise in his warning set off a delicious thrill.

As Raimond anchored his hand in her tumbling hair so he could enjoy her even more, he wanted to kick himself for being such a gentleman, but he knew she deserved better than to lose her innocence on the floor of a burned-out mansion. He helped himself to a few more long tastes of her sweet lips, all the while wondering when he’d become so damn noble.

Finally he drew away and took her home.

The next morning after sharing a breakfast of bully soup and coffee with Araminta, Sable headed across the yard to the hospital. The sight of a White woman riding in that direction atop an old mule made her pause. The rider’s features became more distinct as she neared, and recognition made Sable’s heart stop, then pump furiously. “Oh, my Lord! Mavis!”

Sable took off at a run, screaming her sister’s name. Mavis jumped off the mule and ran to meet her. They
collided with such force they almost knocked themselves to the ground, but they were so busy laughing and crying, neither cared.

Mavis gushed through her happy tears, “Oh, Sable, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Sable hugged her sister with all her might. “I’ve been so worried.”

When they were finally able to turn each other loose, Sable confessed truthfully, “I’ve missed you, Mavis.”

“And I you.”

“Are you well?”

Mavis sighed. “I suppose I should be thankful I still have my health, but things aren’t well back home. Mama and I are living in the quarters. They’re the only structures still standing, and we’ve no place else to go.”

“What happened to Cindi and Vashti?”

“They disappeared the day after you did. I’ve no idea where they went.”

Sable prayed they were safe.

Mavis added softly, “The others left with some Yankees a few days ago.”

“How’s your mother?”

“Remarkably well, all things considered.”

Mavis’s voice was so thick with sarcasm, Sable felt compelled to say, “Explain.”

“She and Morse are marrying on Sunday.”

“What?!”

Mavis nodded. “Sunday. Daddy’s probably spinning in his grave.”

The idea of Sally Ann Fontaine marrying Henry Morse certainly knocked Sable for a loop.

Mavis explained further. “She really believes he’s in love with her, but it’s the land he wants. He’s been courting her since the day after the fire. I tried to get her to sell it to him because the land isn’t worth a thing if there’s no one to work it, but he has her convinced he can restore her and the plantation to glory.”

“Morse was here yesterday.”

“I know, I came with him. He and Mama had the idea I could make you come back. She’s going to be furious when he returns empty-handed. She holds you responsible for what Mahti did.”

Sable looked into Mavis’s eyes and asked bluntly, “Do you?”

Mavis shook her head. “I loved my daddy very much, Sable. I know you didn’t have the feelings for him that I had, but the fire was Mahti’s doing not yours. I can’t hate you for something you had no hand in.”

“So do you hate Mahti?”

Mavis’s voice quieted almost to a whisper. “I don’t want to, but yes, I do. My father’s dead because of her.”

Sable knew that debating the point would serve nothing. They had each lost someone very important to her. Although she and Mavis had been together most of their lives, race would always make them see and interpret certain situations differently. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’ve no idea. On the ride here with Morse yesterday, I decided I wasn’t going back. I’m so tired of listening to Mama rant and rave about the changes the war’s brought. It isn’t my fault she can’t have new dresses or hats or that her hairdresser was burned out by the Yankees. I want her to sell the place to Morse and just leave, but she won’t hear of it. She says she was born in Georgia and she’s going to die in Georgia.”