The Bastard Son (Winds of Change Book 2) (4 page)

Jane gasped for air. Her head spun, her stomach churned. She clutched Sumner’s arm and made no protest when he wrapped his arms about her. Turning her head into his shoulder, she wept.

* * * *

Sumner wasn’t happy. He walked back to the porch after he calmed Jane and placed her back in bed. He sat down on the front step beside Warren, rubbing his tired eyes. Complications. Damn it. He didn’t have time for this.

“You are right, Warren. I will send a note to Israel, but it will take time. What am I supposed to do with her until then?”

“Keep her here, I suppose. The Kilmers were good Christian people. They never turned away anyone who needed help. Troy was a good friend,” Warren said solemnly. “I will help in any way I can, but with my family, it would be suicide if I helped outright. I will see that your note is delivered in haste.”

Sumner said nothing for a moment. The life he had known was a distant memory. In his youth, he had worked hard to be a gentleman such as his father. He had been born the bastard son of English nobility, governor of Antigua, Governor John Rolf Blankenship. His mother had been a half-breed, fitting into neither world, Cherokee nor white. His father set her up on this farm almost thirty years ago. This was where he had been born, but in honesty, he remembered nothing about the place, having moved into Elm Bluff as a child.

How he loved Elm Bluff, one of the three plantations his father owned outside of Charles Town. Sumner had overseen the lands for his father. When he was thirteen, his father moved his other family into Elm Bluff, his wife and other children. It had been a strange arrangement, but Sumner bonded with his new family.

But now, as the girl lying in the bedroom, he walked alone. Not as she, without anyone. In truth, much of it was of his choosing. Had he not a young son, Caleb? Sadness washed over him when he thought of his boy. He would be over three now.

He hadn’t seen Caleb for such a long time. He held no doubt the young lad wouldn’t know who he was, but Sumner had seen to his care, leaving him with his wife’s family in Charles Town. He also arranged if the boy was in any danger, he would be sent to his sister in England.

Since the British occupation, Elm Bluff had been occupied by Red Coats. Rumor had it that Cornwallis had even taken up residence there for a while, but Sumner didn’t worry about his plantations. If they weren’t in his hands at the moment, his sister held control…in essence, they were his.

Warren was right. Even though Sumner stood loyally behind the Patriot cause, he did have more connections with the British, more influence, than most.

“We have more to discuss than this,” Sumner said standing. “Come. Let’s walk.”

The oppressive heat lent to walking along the fence line under the shade of the live oaks.

“I was given orders to rest and recover, but there is no rest for any at the moment. Gates blundered the whole battle at Camden, lost many a good man without reason. Furthermore, reports have come in that the British are making their way through our state, concentrating on those who have given aid to our men.

“I intend to head over to see if I can help Shelby recruit men to our cause along the border.”

Warren sighed. “It is not a job I would envy. Most of them want only to protect what is theirs. Life in the frontier is hard enough without launching a war against the British.”

“There has to be those willing to fight. Shelby and McDowell have done many hit and run raids on Loyalist outposts along the border.”

“Sumner, you know as well as I,” Warren warned, “that the overmountain men don’t like to be told what to do. It’s hard to lead men when there are no followers.”

“Colonel Marion wants me to scout the area for signs of British activity,” Sumner said. “I can do so from here, except what am I to do with the distraction that now lives under my roof? I don’t like it, Warren.”

“If you are worried so much about her welfare, take her with you when you scout.”

“The girl?” Sumner asked in a clipped tone. “Are you mad?”

“Could she not serve as a cover for you as you move about? At least until arrangements can be made. Let me point out that although she is a woman, she has survived for months without detection.”

“It wouldn’t be safe to go where I go. She may be brave, but she is a woman.”

“That could dress as a lad,” Warren added. His steps slowed. “I would wager she would find sanctuary over the mountains. Then she would not be a worry to you any more or me now that I know.”

“Let me think upon it. For the love of God, I do not need this! Not with all that is going on around us. What more do you know and have upon your mind?”

For over two hours they discussed the war. In the end, it was as the beginning, the Patriot cause had receded to the point where their position lay in dire straits in the South. The British concentration had refocused upon the South, having lost their strong hold in the North.

With the devastating loss at Camden, little held out hope for the Southern cause, but Sumner wouldn’t accept defeat easily. It wasn’t an option.

In his life, he had faced many adversities. He had never wavered in his path and wouldn’t start now.

Starting back up the path, Warren said, “I will come back later this week. You can have a note readied to see what you can do for the girl. Have faith, my friend. We will succeed…we have no choice.”

Sumner made no argument. The rebellion would trudge onward. Turning the bend, he saw smoke rise from the chimney, and the aroma of a warm, cooked meal lingered in the air.

Walking back up the steps, he noticed all the supplies and boxes had been cleared from the porch. He strode into the house.

Plates lay upon the table, silverware, glasses, all in preparedness for a meal. He hadn’t realized how hungry he had become. Jane walked in from the kitchen.

“I hope you don’t mind. I have prepared a simple lunch with the supplies that Mr. Parker brought. Sit,” she said simply. Within minutes, she had placed before him bowls of peas, fried tomatoes, okra, corn, and hot cornbread.

Warren didn’t hesitate. “Never turn away a hot meal.”

No, don’t suppose he would either, but his eyes remained upon Jane, such an odd one. How could he tell Warren he had no desire for her to be gone? No, it was strange how he had taken to her and in fact it was his dilemma.

* * * *

Night had fallen. Everything had been set for the evening. The horses fed; the dishes cleaned. Warren promised to bring a cow next time out, although Sumner didn’t see the necessity since he wasn’t planning to be around here for long. But there again, the girl might enjoy fresh milk.

Jane prepared another fine meal for supper. She was a good cook, but he expected she had cooked from an early age.

Walking back from the barn, he found her sitting on the porch, smiling up at him. In the fading light, she looked beautiful. She had taken off her cap, leaving her hair down in a braid over her shoulder.

For the life of him, he couldn’t get the thought of having her in his arms out of his head, with her firm breasts pressed against him…her body arching instinctively to his.

Warren hadn’t even suggested it would be harmful to leave a young, innocent in his care. Perhaps, Warren thought it the lesser of the evils in her life.

“Thank you for the supper, Jane. I was thinking of retiring for the night.”

“I will do so shortly.” Rising, she moved over to the railing and stared out into the coming night.

Go, leave her.
Instead, he came up behind her. “Are you feeling well? I know you still have the effects of the bump upon your head.”

“I have recovered,” she whispered. “It is not what bothers me. I feel so lost. I had thought I would at least have my grandfather’s land after…”

“We are working on a plan to remove you from this area. I know of people where you would be safe and won’t have to worry until after this war is finally over.”

Turning, her eyes met his. “I don’t want your pity.”

“It isn’t pity I feel for you.” With the words, all his good intentions dissipated with a strong craving to have her back in his arms. He gently caressed her cheek. “Run, Jane, from me.”

She made no movement to leave him. She lifted her face up to his. He needed nothing else for his lips to descend upon hers. He would have stopped if she pulled away. She did not.

His kiss deepened, devouring her with his lips. His hand lowered, caressing and smoothing along the curves of her body.

“I want you, Jane,” he whispered. “More than I have ever wanted another. You feel it also…this longing between us. Tell me you do.”

“Yes, Sumner, yes.”

He talked no more, but swept her in his arms and answered the dictates of his body. In quick strides, they were in the bedroom, making quick work of the barrier that lay between their bodies and their desire.

Untying her gown, Sumner watched it fall loose about her legs. She stepped out of it with only her shift while he made short work of his own clothing. Stripping off his shirt, he took only time to pull off his boots before he was by her side once more.

Her scantily clad body eagerly awaited him, and she completely unaware the devastating effect she had on him. Cupping her face in his hands, he took possession of her warm, yielding lips.

“Are you afraid?”

“Not of you…not of this.”

His lips touched her again, coaxing her lips apart. Holding her firm, his teeth teased her, played with her, as his tongue entered with an invasive intimacy, answering his deep primitive urge. His stirring passion wanted to bury himself in her soft, round breasts, his hips in her thighs. His arousal controlled him.

He broke from her and lingered briefly over her lips. He reached down to the hem of her shift and pulled it over her head. His eyes reveled at the sight before him and he found himself with a growing impatience to possess her with the fire burning in his soul.

As he had in the morning light, he eased her upon the bed, but this time, she lay naked, concealing nothing…fully aware of his desire.

In her eyes, there was no mistaking her apprehension. Her shallow breathing betrayed her nerves, but she made no move to leave him and cried no tears. He removed his pants and eased down bare skin beside her. She trembled when his body touched hers.

He wanted to reassure her in some manner. Gazing into her eyes, words did not come. He leaned over and kissed her gently, barely brushing against hers…at first.

His hands moved upward and cupped her breasts. Her bare thighs moved against the scorching heat of his manhood. His restraint challenged, he took fierce possession of her body.

His mouth claimed hers and ravished it while his fingers circled her breast. He brushed his thumb over her erect nipple inciting a sweet cry of pleasure. He boldly explored her nakedness, learning its secrets, kissing her most sensitive places, and taking pleasure in her every tremor, every ripple, and every quiver of passion. Yearning sweltered with escalating intensity.

Consciousness narrowed on the heat making him tight and hard. His lips savored the sweet taste of her skin, moving downward. She rose upward encouraging him until he finally had her perfect breast in his mouth, suckling her to the point where delirium caused her to cry out. Whispers of her madness begged him for more. Her breaths quickened, faster, faster, urging him on. She grabbed hold at his shoulders.

“Oh, please, please, please,” she begged.

With the plea, he literally took her prisoner. In the back of his mind, his thoughts ran rapid, be gentle, easy, but he was neither. It was as stark uncontrollable forces exploded within him. He touched her everywhere. His caresses lowered to her stomach, thighs, inexorable down her body.

He stroked the inside of her thigh and she uttered a little cry that thrilled him. He firmly pushed her legs apart, brushed his fingers down between her thighs and slid down her cleft into slick moisture. She was hot and damp and ready for him. He wanted to bury himself into her, lose himself in her.

She seemed to come alive with each stroke, craving an unknown pleasure. Her body responded to his touch as if it knew what it wanted whether she knew or not. She arched off the bed with a muffled shriek. She pressed up toward him and spread her legs, moving to his touch, rocking closer.

He moved on top of her and lowered his hips between her thighs. His hardness pressed into her. Her eyes widened as he began to move in a rhythm, sheathing himself fully in her clinging body. For a moment, she tensed. Did he hear her utter a tiny cry? But her hands tightened upon his back, urging him, wanting him.

He was caught up in her silky skin, the fragrance of her body, the soft dampness of her breath against the side of his face. He took her as the sturdy old bed shook beneath them. Holding her leg to his hip, he thrust even deeper, ravishing her, dominating her with every reentry until their fierce, wild fervor blended together as one.

The end came with a rush of completion like nothing he’d ever felt before. He stayed deep inside of her unable to move for a second. A final kiss, a visceral tremor, he collapsed alongside of her. Rolling over, he pulled her to him and cradled her in his arms.

For a time, he found he couldn’t speak. He caressed her head, wiped the tears that had fallen from her eyes. Finally, he said, “The next time will be better for you. I was selfish, but will remedy it soon enough. I promise.”