Through the Storm (13 page)

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Authors: Beverly Jenkins

Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #Fiction

BOOK: Through the Storm
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Raimond’s eyes widened.
Her brother
!

Sable shook her head. Men.

“Why didn’t you inform me earlier?”

“It was none of your concern.”

“Your brother.”

“Yes, my brother.”

Her brother, Raimond thought, relieved. He’d been running around half-cocked over her damn brother. He felt like a fool, but the elation made him want to turn flips.

Although Sable hadn’t intended to reveal her true ties to Rhine, she thought it best that the major know. She didn’t want him giving Rhine a hard time for no reason.

Raimond looked into her eyes. “Has he always passed?”

“No. That’s a choice he settled upon recently.”

“Is he planning on staying White?”

“Yes. He says he’s tired of carrying the cross we slaves have had to bear.”

Raimond observed her closed face over the candles
atop the table. “How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t like it, but it’s his life. I love him very much. He and I are the last of my mother’s line. When he leaves, I’ll have no one.”

Although Raimond’s father had been lost at sea when Raimond was twelve, he’d grown to adulthood surrounded by a large, loving and extremely noisy family. He had a beautiful and vibrant mother, Juliana, and four remaining younger brothers. He could only imagine how bleak life would have been without them. This woman had no one.

“What happened to your mother?” he asked.

“She took her own life rather than be forced to breed again.”

Raimond sensed her pain. “How old were you?”

“Three, according to my aunt.”

“And this aunt?”

“Dead also.”

Raimond considered his mother, Juliana, and how she’d raised him and his brothers. “A woman alone in the world must be strong.”

“I am strong. My mother and grandmothers were queens.”

Raimond didn’t doubt the claim for a moment. It had nothing to do with the way she looked, but with the strong and confident way in which she carried herself. Her lineage might also account for her sometimes blunt speech and impertinent behavior.

“A contraband queen,” he mused aloud.

“A queen with no subjects and no lands.”

“But her first courtier.”

Sable fought the effect of his words, reminding herself he couldn’t possibly be attracted to her in any meaningful way. “I believe I’m a bit past the age of courtiers.”

He shrugged. “I don’t share that opinion, but since you are the queen…”

She decided to change the subject. “What did you do before joining the war?”

“I was a partner in a shipping firm. A close friend handled the business end and I commanded the ships.”

“How much of the world have you seen?”

“Most of it. Sailing is my life.”

She heard the passion in his voice, and wondered if she would ever find something in this new, free life that would fill her with the same intensity.

Judging from the subdued sounds coming from outside the tent Sable could tell the hour had grown late. The camp was a bedlam of activity during the day, but as night took hold, much of the hustle and bustle eased. “I should be going.”

Raimond had no desire to relinquish her company. “Rhine’s an odd name.”

“You’re trying to stall me.”

“I know. Indulge me.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Aunt Mahti said he was named for the Rhine river, where he was conceived. Carson Fontaine and his wife Sally Ann, were on their European wedding tour at the time. My mother was brought along as Sally’s servant.”

“They were on their wedding tour?”

“Yes, Rhine and the Fontaines’ son Andrew are only two weeks apart in age. Andrew’s sister Mavis and I were born six minutes apart. My mother nursed us both.”

“What happened to Mavis?”

The question made memories of the night Sable had left home flare to life, bringing grief and sadness. “I wish I knew.” She shook off her despondency and remembered the lateness of the hour. “I really must be going. Thank you for dinner.”

She stood.

“Stay awhile longer.”

“No. Some people already believe you’re my protector.”

“Really?”

Sable swore he looked pleased. “Avery does, for one,
and your performance this evening will only fuel more rumors.”

“You don’t approve, I take it?”

“No.”

“Why not?” he asked, pouring himself more wine, then taking a swallow.

“Well, let me think. I doubt I’d grow accustomed to being referred to as the major’s green-eyed whore,” she said easily.

Raimond choked on the wine. Once he was able to breathe again, he assessed her with his dark eyes. He knew then and there that he wanted this woman in his bed. Only there would he be fully able to sample her fire and spirit. He’d never liked his women passive. “The only thing I enjoy more than a challenge is a challenge tossed down by a woman,” he said.

“I’m not challenging you.”

“Ah, but you are…among other things, you’re challenging me to kiss you and find out if your lips are as ripe as they appear.”

Sable brought a hand to her mouth.

He flashed a dazzling smile.

She hastily put the hand down. “A gentleman would never speak that way.”

“I’m not a gentleman, Miss Fontaine. It says so in the Constitution.”

She sat back down.

“You shouldn’t look so shocked. You’ve probably had any number of suitors over the years.”

“I’ve had none.”

“You’re a very beautiful woman.”

“A very beautiful
slave
. The Fontaines never let anyone court me, nor was I allowed to have a beau from the fields.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve no idea. Maybe it had something to do with my mother, or maybe it was purely out of spite. As I said before, his wife and I couldn’t abide one another.”

“Well, it’s far too late for you to be out wandering around in the dark. There are probably many who’ve no idea I’m your protector and would do you harm.”

“You are not my protector.”

He sipped his wine and remained silent.

“I don’t need a protector.”

His eyes flashed amusement.

“I may need a protector to keep you at bay, but that is all.”

He toasted her with his glass. “Beautiful
and
astute.”

She couldn’t hide her grin.

“That being the case,” he went on, “we will make a pact. You may return to Mrs. Reese’s, but I will escort you.”

“No.”

“Yes. Now come,” he said, standing.

“Do you always decide what is best for others?”

“Habit. I have four younger brothers, so indulge me.”

“And if I choose not to?”

“There’s always dessert…”

Sable stood.

Outside, the night air was chilly. She pulled her shawl tighter and tried not to be affected by the man at her side or the moonlight bathing his tall, bearded handsomeness.

Looking down at her, he said, “You know, if we were in Louisiana I would court you, Sable.”

“If we were in Louisiana, you wouldn’t pay me a minute of attention.”

He grinned in the dark. She was as hard as a Brazil nut. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t impress me as a man who courts women. Men like you simply beckon and the women trip over each other to do your bidding. You and my brother are very much alike.”

He grinned. “I admit that is sometimes true. But you I would court.”

Sable rolled her eyes.

They walked the remainder of the way in silence. Raimond realized he enjoyed their parrying and wanted more. As they approached the creek which led to the laundry, he asked, “Would you walk down by the water with me for a bit?”

She chuckled. “No. I have to get up very early and I need my sleep.”

Raimond found himself wondering how it would feel to awaken with her at his side, to touch her softy and rouse her with his kiss. “You are very hard on this poor Frenchman.”

“Only because you warrant it. Undoubtedly you get your own way far more often than is healthy.”

As he looked down into her smiling eyes, he placed a hand beneath her golden chin and raised it. She supposed she could have stomped on his foot or kicked him in the knee to stop the slow, sweet kiss that followed, but she did not. Instead she let him have his way, and he took a leisurely advantage that left her with her eyes closed and her knees weak.

Finally, her eyes opened and she whispered, “You’re fairly good at this…”

He smiled. “I’m fairly good at most things.”

“Your hats must explode quite regularly.”

He chuckled. “Let’s get you home.”

The effect of his kiss stayed with her as their walk ended outside her tent. She hadn’t intended for him to know his kiss had moved her, but she’d been so dazzled the words had come out before she could snatch them back. Mrs. Reese and the others were already asleep, so Sable kept her voice low. “Thank you for dinner.”

“My pleasure.”

“Good night.”

Raimond picked up her hand before she could enter the tent. “Will you walk with me again?”

Sable sensed she was being drawn in by his spell. “When?”

“Now. An hour from now. You choose.”

“We agreed my debt would be paid after tonight.”

“Again you are making this very hard for me.”

She smiled. “Courting a queen should never be easy. Good night, Major.”

She squeezed his hand gently and went inside.

Chapter 5

A
s she entered the tent, Sable heard, “You’re back awfully late.”

The voice belonged to Bridget McKinney. The sight of her sitting up on one of the pallets took Sable by surprise. The tiny stub of a candle burning on a large rock barely illuminated the tent’s interior. “What are you doing here?”

“Mrs. Reese found replacements for Sookie and Paige. I asked if I could move in here with you. Dorothy snores like a train. Do you mind?”

Sable and Bridget had gotten along fairly well since Sable’s initial arrival, so she replied truthfully, “No, I don’t mind. Paige and Sookie snored something fierce too.”

Bridget smiled in the darkness, then asked, “Where do you think those two disappeared to?”

Sable shrugged. “So far, the army’s not been able to find out anything. I doubt the theft’s a priority though. It isn’t as if General Sherman can call a halt to the war just to search them out. How well did you know them?”

“Not as well as I thought, I guess. I never pegged them as thieves.”

“Neither did I.”

Sable yawned sleepily.

“Are you usually out so late?”

Sable’s lingering memories of the major’s kiss made her smile as she took off her shawl and sat down on her pallet. “No. Tonight was an exception.”

“I’m guessing you like him a lot better tonight than you did this morning,” Bridget teased.

“I agreed to dinner to pay him back for helping with Patrick.”

“Uh huh. Rumor has it he’s sweet on you.”

“The rumor’s wrong.”

“Heard he carried you through camp. That rumor wrong too?”

Sable tried to hide her grin. “No.”

“So, how was dinner?”

“Fine.”

“He kiss you?”

“Bridget McKinney, you are the nosiest woman I know.”

“Answer the question, Fontaine. Did he?”

“Yes.”

Bridget hooted so loudly, Sable scolded, “You’re going to bring Mrs. Reese down on our heads if you don’t hush!”

“Is he a good kisser?”

Sable shrugged. “How would I know? I’ve never been kissed before.”

“You are too innocent to be alive, Fontaine. Are you sure you’ve never been kissed?”

“Why would I lie about something like that?”

“Women do it all the time. You, though, I believe.”

“Thank you, I think. I take it you’ve been kissed.”

Bridget grinned. “More times than there are stars in the sky.”

Sable raised a doubtful eyebrow.

Bridget chuckled and confessed, “I think I’m going to like having you as a tent mate.” She pulled the blankets up over her head. “Good night, Fontaine.”

“Good night, Bridget.”

 

The two women became fast friends over the next few days. Bridget had a past that set her apart from anyone Sable had ever known.

“I owned a bordello. You do know what that is, don’t you, Fontaine?”

Speechless, Sable nodded as she hung wet wash on the lines set up among the trees.

“Had a small place about thirty-five miles outside Atlanta. After the Yankees burned me out, I came here.”

Sable knew about the havoc caused by the Union’s conquering armies. There’d been lootings, burnings, and rapes perpetrated on both races. But Sable had never heard of a Black woman owning a bordello.

“My master owned the place originally. When he died he willed it and me to his eldest son. Because the son’s young wife succumbed to the vapors anytime anyone even mentioned the business her husband had inherited, I ran the place and he pocketed the profits.”

Sable could only stare. Everyone in the South knew that not all slaves worked on cotton plantations. Many captives held positions in the cities and countryside as clerks, foundry workers, miners, and seamstress apprentices. Some went to sea with their masters on merchant vessels, while others accompanied wagon trains going West. One, like the famous slave York, owned by William Clark, traveled West as a member of the Lewis and Clark party and proved to be a valuable member of the expedition. But a bordello?

“Why do you find that so surprising?” Bridget asked. “If we can manage diners and dress shops, surely managing a place that caters to a man’s intimate needs is not so far-fetched.”

Sable supposed she was right.

“Want to change your mind about sharing the tent with me now that you know?”

“No, but at the bordello, were you…I mean, did you…”

“Was I on the menu? Yes. Not so much toward the
end though. I was more valuable to the business sitting upright and going over the books than I was working on my back.”

Sable’s eyes widened.

Bridget shook her head. “Fontaine, before our association ends, you’re going to learn more than you probably ever imagined about many things, but they will serve you well.” Sagely, she added, “Especially if you’re being pursued by that devil of a Major. Man like him needs a woman.”

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