Ashes in the Wind (22 page)

Idly he picked up a bar of homemade soap from a dish that held a vast assortment of scented bars Roberta had recently purchased. A fragrance wafted from it, filling his head and stirring in the very depths of his soul some twinkling memory he could not quite grasp hold of. A phantom form swam through his mind, and from its soft, beckoning lips came the ripple of sweet laughter mingled with honeyed words—

“But therein lies my cause, Captain. You have not paid.”

Cole’s eyes flew open. That voice again! He must be going mad! He had not even seen the young widow’s face, and here he was already having illusions of holding her in his arms!

Presenting herself at the general’s residence shortly after Cole left for the hospital, Roberta played upon Mrs. Banks’s sympathies and gained an escort for that evening’s affair. She spent the afternoon preening herself, trying on countless gowns and casting them off in distaste until she found one that met her mood. Before dressing herself for the grand affair, she napped in order to be fresh and rested for the long evening ahead. She would teach that Cole Latimer a lesson he would not long forget.

Though Dulcie had been hard at work all day, cutting and preparing to smoke the meat of a hog that Cole had purchased and sent out, Roberta gave the black woman stern orders to make sure the bedroom upstairs was neat and tidy before she returned. Dulcie was still grumbling about the command when Alaina came home that night after helping Mrs. Hawthorne with some heavy chores.

“Miz Roberta gone off a highfalutin it wid some Yankee colonel widout tellin’ Mistah Cole, Mastah Angus, or Miz Leala, and there her pa and ma went off visitin’ wid kinfolk for the night. Dere sho’ is gonna be some fur flyin’ in dis house if’n Miz Roberta ain’t fetched herself home befo’ Mistah Cole.” The woman slapped down a long length of sausage she had just finished stuffing and shook her head sorrowfully. “An’ ah is gonna see some feathers flyin’ myself if’n I ain’ cleaned up dat room befo’ Miz Roberta gits back. Cora Mae and
Lucy went off to sit with Miz Carter cause de doctor tole dat ol’ lady to rest in bed. I jes’ ain’t got around to cleanin’ upstairs yet wid all dis heah po’k a-needin’ to be smoked befo’ hot weather sets in. Miz Roberta don’t care if de rest o’ us eats or not.”

Despite her own weariness, Alaina offered assistance, well understanding the woman’s plight. Since Cole had portioned out a comfortable salary for the black family and had taken over the expenses of running the household, Roberta had assumed for herself the role as mistress of the manor. Now that she was a woman of affluence, Roberta had become a rather domineering figure and expected Dulcie and her family to cater to her every whim above that of the elder Craighughs. More and more it was ceasing to be a home that could be enjoyed by all who occupied it.

Late into the night Alaina helped hang the hams and meats and clean the kitchen, then seeing that Dulcie was near exhaustion, she propelled the older woman off to bed with the assurance that, after her bath, she would straighten up Roberta’s bedroom herself.

Alaina had no inkling just what she had volunteered herself for until she stood in the doorway of her cousin’s room and stared in amazement at the jumble of clothes, shoes, petticoats, hoops, and a vast assortment of accessories left helter-skelter about the floor and over the furnishings. Beneath heaps of petticoats and silk stockings, the bed was unmade and rumpled. But in the disarray, Alaina noticed there was nothing of Cole’s. His clothing was neatly arranged in the tall armoire that had been moved into the room
to accommodate his possessions.

Alaina placed cool fingers against her temples. She was bone tired and dearly longed for sleep, but she had promised Dulcie that she would see the room neat and presentable before she went to bed. Despite the monumental task laid out for her, she had to keep her word.

The soft patter of raindrops that began to hit the windows was a prelude to the storm that soon swept down upon the house. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled swiftly on its heels, making Alaina jump as it loudly cracked the silence. She worked by the light of one lone kerosene lamp that sat atop the bureau beside the door. Angus had exacted a bit of revenge upon the Yankee, though it was little noticed by the one to whom it was directed, and had taken all but one lamp from the room. The late hours Cole usually kept saw him making his way through a dark house and finding the path to bed without aid of a light.

Alaina carefully folded the silk stockings and put away the rich gowns, allowing herself the luxury of holding a few before her as she passed the tall, standing mirror. In sharp contrast, her threadbare robe was a disillusioning mark of her own poverty. It brought to mind that she had failed thus far to raise enough capital to buy Briar Hill. Unable to think of a logical explanation as to why Al would need so much money, she had not dared to approach Cole on the matter of a loan.

Almost self-consciously Alaina doffed the tattered robe. Her gown still bore a bit of pretty lace across the bodice, even though the carefully mended rent Cole had put into it caused the garment to pucker untidily.

Silently Alaina worked, admiring the expensive clothes while she put them away. Though they belonged to another woman, it was a luxury just to touch the fine silks, the rich velvets, the seed pearl-encrusted bodice or the jet-trimmed crimson ball gown.

A bolt of lightning streaked across the night sky, and the rain washed down the window in sheets. The small clock on the bedside table delicately chimed in the late midnight hour, and Alaina stared at it in amazement, wondering where the time had flown. A few last articles to put away, the bed to straighten, and then she could go to bed.

Moments later, as she was tucking away the vast folds of a petticoat, Alaina paused to listen. Had she heard a noise in the hallway, or was it the rumble of distant thunder? Whatever it might have been, she decided it was best to hurry. She had no wish to be caught by either Cole or Roberta.

Quickly Alaina closed the armoire door, then halted abruptly. This time she could not mistake the creaking of the wood floor in the hallway as someone came toward Roberta’s bedroom. No scuff of boots were heard, nor the sharp click of high heels. But it was raining hard. Cole would have stopped at the back door to remove his boots, whereas Roberta would have tracked mud through the house rather than trouble herself.

Her heart thumping wildly in her chest, Alaina flew to the lamp and blew out the flame. But he’d only light it again, she thought frantically. Carefully, trying not to make a noise or worse yet, drop the lamp, she put the glass hurricane lantern on the floor behind the dressing screen. The room was now
totally black, but she knew Cole had the advantage. His eyes were accustomed to the dark!

Alaina stood in the middle of the room, turning about indecisively. She couldn’t pass him in the hall! He’d probably mistake her for Roberta and stop her. A place to hide then! Under the bed! Heaven forbid! She’d be trapped there as an unwilling witness should he and Roberta become amorous. The dressing screen! Of course!

The doorknob turned, and Alaina flew to join the hidden lamp. But not fast enough. As the door swung open, Cole’s eyes caught the pallid glow of her white gown as she dashed behind the screen.

“Are you still up?” His voice still bore an edge of sharpness that bespoke of a lingering vexation.

A jagged ripple of lightning touched the sky as Cole dropped his wet blouse over a straight chair that sat before the fireplace. Alaina, fearfully peering around the edge of the screen, saw him doff his shirt and move to where the lamp should have been. He searched the top of the bureau, patting it carefully in the dark so he wouldn’t knock anything over. Failing to find the lamp, he swore and opened a drawer in the chest, took out a cigar and match. He turned, lighting the cheroot, then raised the small, flickering light high. Alaina ducked back and held her breath as he looked about the room for the lamp.

“Where has the lamp gone to?” he growled. He walked to the windows and threw the draperies wide before opening a window a crack. The scent of rain mingled with the aromatic smoke as he stood gazing out onto the ebony, storm-tossed night, leisurely enjoying the cigar. Finally he turned, unfastening
his trousers, and sat down on the edge of the straight chair to pull them off. He was about to doff his underwear when he turned thoughtfully to face the corner of the room where the screen was.

“Roberta? Are you ill?”

Alaina waited in trembling disquiet as she listened for his approach. Cole was puzzled by his wife’s uncharacteristic taciturnity. If she was still sulking because he had been unable to attend the ball, then he was in for another night of argument and strife.

Cole tossed the cheroot into the fireplace and neared the screen. He was just reaching to fold it back when the whole thing fell forward, pushed by a decisive force from behind. The top caught him squarely across the chest as a pale shape leapt past him. Angrily Cole tossed off the screen, reached out an arm and snatched a handful of thin cloth. A rending tear preceded a startled gasp, then a small, slippered foot kicked at his shins.

“Dammit, Roberta! What’s gotten into you?” He ignored the hands that slapped at him and jerked her around roughly. Alaina stumbled against the bed and, in great trepidation, quickly scampered across it. Cole was just irritated enough to lunge after her, his fingers reaching to ensnare her. In the next moment, her gown was all he had. The batiste was fragile with age and needed no more than a gentle tug to separate it completely. The strain Cole placed upon it was not light by any measure, and the whole thing shredded apart like the most fragile gossamer.

Cole tossed the gown aside and swung around the massive bedpost to fling himself toward the now
naked woman. The vague blur of pale bodies in the dark room gave away their movements, and seeing him near her, Alaina abruptly changed directions and scurried to the opposite side of the bed. Cole was faster and leaped around the corner post in time to catch her full against him. The sudden contact of their bodies came as something of a shock to both of them. There was only the briefest meeting of soft, bare bosom against hard, furred chest before Alaina tore away with a gasp. But in that abbreviated encounter, Cole became certain of one thing. This was
not
Roberta! The form was too small, too slim, too light. He reached out a hand, brushing her hair, and immediately it all came back to him. The short hair! The slim body! His mind rebelled in disbelief.

“Who the hell!” His eyes probed the darkness for her features as he demanded in a hoarse whisper, “Who are you? Who—are—you?”

Lightning seared the sky in a brilliant, almost blinding flash, and in that moment, her hair tousled and unkempt, Al was plainly visible.

“Good lord!” Cole cried. There was a glimpse of her pale, heaving breasts with the gold medallion gleaming tauntingly between. “Al!”

“Alaina!” The whisper was like a pained scream in the room.

“It was you! It was you that night!”

Alaina tried to snatch away, but he caught her wrists. She fought him, wildly twisting and writhing in an attempt to gain her freedom.

“Will you be still!” he cried and, when she would not, increased the pressure of his grip upon the delicately boned wrists. Stubbornly Alaina resisted
the pain until finally Cole gave up the tactic, not wishing to hurt her unduly. Instead, grasping both her wrists into one hand, he gathered her close with his free arm and stifled her struggles against him. Alaina’s eyes opened wide with alarm.

“No!” she railed, suddenly afraid of his intentions. They were in the house alone, and there was no one to stop him if he chose to take her again. “Let me go!”

“Be still then,” he commanded.

Slowly she quieted, and Cole loosened his hold, but as soon as he did, Alaina came alive with a flurry. She escaped his grasp and, without pause, sought to extend that condition with further flight. She was just reaching for the doorknob when he caught her again. Cole’s memory was like a book being opened wide for the first time, and he wanted some answers.

Blindly, insanely, Alaina fought him, trying to claw his hand away from her arm. The night he had taken her virginity was far too vivid in her memory. She would not misjudge his strength or his ardor again! In her state of undress, she was far too vulnerable, and she wanted to be safe in her room with the door barred between them.

“Stop it!” He caught her hand in his. “I just want to talk.”

He pressed her back against the wall and tried to still her frantic threshing with the weight of his own body, but he was too conscious of her warm body and of the soft nipples that seemed to burn into his chest. He was becoming increasingly aroused, and her struggles only sharpened his desires. Moisture
popped from his pores, and it was a labor to remember that he was even partly a gentleman.

“Ooooh n-o-o-o!” Alaina moaned in dismay. His thighs crushed her own quaking limbs, and his excitement was blatantly obvious to her.

Cole snatched away and pulled her to where he had seen a white garment on the bed. It was her robe that he thrust at her.

“Dress yourself!”

Alaina hastily complied, though she found it impossible to stop her violent shaking and the robe offered her meager protection.

“Where is the lamp?” Cole questioned sharply, as provoked with himself as he was with her.

Alaina’s voice quavered as she answered. “Behind the screen.”

“Don’t run away again,” he warned darkly. “You owe me that much, and I’m just in the mood to tear this damn house apart to find you.”

“I owe you nothing, Yankee,” Alaina sniffed with open mutiny in her tone.

“Stay where you are!” Cole commanded sharply. After setting the screen upright, he felt around until he located the lamp and returned it to its place on the bureau. “I intend to find out just what the hell is going on here.”

He touched a sulfur match to the wick and, replacing the chimney, turned it up until its glow drove the shadows back into the corners. Reaching out, he pulled Alaina close to the lamp and cupped her chin in his hand, raising her face full to the light. Tears streamed down her cheeks at this rude examination, but Cole could only stare in wonder.