Patricia Rice (24 page)

Babies weren't a part of his future. Surely no more than two or three nights in Dora's bed would be safe enough.

Chapter 17

Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.

I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,

That almost freezes up the heat of life.

~ Shakespeare,
Romeo and Juliet

Propping himself on one elbow, Pace looked down at the sleeping beauty beside him. Dark circles from lack of sleep colored the thin skin beneath Dora's eyes. He was responsible for that, he knew. He hadn't left her much time for sleeping these past three nights.

She'd brought him as close to heaven as he ever expected to get in his misbegotten life. He hated leaving. It would be so simple just to continue these lazy days of summer lying around all day and making love to a beautiful woman all night. But he had fully recovered now, or fully recovered as he could get. The damned arm still hurt like the very devil when he used it, but he refused to give in to the pain. He didn't have it in him to lie back and let nature take its course. He had to go.

As if sensing his restlessness, Dora sleepily opened her eyes and looked up at him through those blasted long lashes of hers. She had the face of a Botticelli angel when asleep, and the countenance of a wanton when looking at him like that. Pace felt his loins respond to the challenge, but it was almost dawn. He had to leave.

"Take me with thee," she whispered.

Nothing got past Dora. She knew what he would do before he did it. Pace shook his head and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Don't be ridiculous."

She pushed upright, the sheet falling from her bare breasts. "I could be a nurse. They need nurses. Don't leave me here."

The temptation she presented was too great. Scowling, Pace threw his weight over her, pressing her back into the soft down of the mattress. "I may have brought an angel down to earth, but I'll not lead her into hell. You'll stay here."

Holding himself over her. Pace kneeled between her legs and eased into her, knowing Dora's eyes followed all he did. In the dawn light she could see where his fully erect manhood entered her. She could see how easily he possessed her body. He wanted her to see, to know what he was, and what she was. She gave a breathless little cry when he pushed deeper. Her eyes widened as her gaze flew up to his face, and then her lashes fluttered closed again as she accepted his possession.

She was his. It didn't give Pace the satisfaction that he thought it would, but it was enough. He had one person in his life that he could count on. In a life fraught with uncertainties, he didn't need more, he told himself. Maybe someday he would let her go. But not just now.

Their lovemaking was fierce and bittersweet, knowing their parting could be forever. When they'd had their fill, Pace lay beside her long enough to let Dora drift back to sleep. Even if he survived the war, he didn't know if he would come back to claim her again. He had taken huge risks doing it this time. He shouldn't push his luck.

But when he left, he left his grandmother's gold ring on the pillow beside her.

* * *

The sun was well up when Dora woke again. Daylight streamed through the thin bedroom curtains. She knew before she opened her eyes that Pace had gone.

She refused to grieve. She had known their time together would only be temporary. But the habits of a lifetime failed her now. She couldn't control the waves of pain washing through her.

When she opened her eyes and saw the ring sparkling in the sunshine, she almost reached over and threw it across the room. She knew Pace well enough to know the ring didn't mean a thing. It wasn't a promise. It was a toy, a gesture appeasing his guilty conscience. She wouldn't even accuse him of offering payment. Pace wasn't that crude. He wanted to give her something and he had nothing else to give. The fool idiot thought it would make her feel better.

Nothing would ever make her feel better. She'd let him use her body over and over again, just for the sheer pleasure of it. She couldn't even convince herself anymore that she had done it to save his life. She sensed the danger had ended, if danger there had ever been. But it could have been over days ago and she wouldn't have admitted it. She had wanted him to stay, to bury himself inside her, to make her alive again.

Well, he had succeeded. She was alive and hurting so badly that she wished she had died. She didn't even know how to cry anymore. Her emotions were so stiff from disuse that she could only curl up and absorb the pain as if she had been physically battered.

He was gone.

Dora clutched the ring in her palm and wept, her entire body shaking with sobs. The bed smelled of him, but she would never know that scent again once she washed the linens. He would be truly gone then, gone from sight and sound and smell. She would never know his rough hands caressing her breasts again, never know the sound of his low voice murmuring sensual words in her ear, never catch the glint of sunlight in his auburn hair. He'd never put his arms around her or bruise her with his lips again.

She didn't know how she would endure the pain. It seared through her more surely than fire. Damn him for doing this to her. Damn herself for letting him.

She finally crept from the bed, feeling the ache between her legs where'd he taken her so roughly. She had never imagined what a man did to a woman. It seemed incredible even now. She had wallowed in physical sensations for three fascinating nights. They might be all she ever had.

She had difficulty restoring herself to the wooden doll everyone expected of her. For the first time since she had donned Quaker gray, she hated the coarse material. She knew wealthy Quakers who wore silks and satins, but even that would not suffice for the way she felt now. She wanted to wear scarlet. She wanted to feel the wind on her skin. She wanted to immerse herself in the summer heat as if that would replace the warmth Pace had taken away.

She did nothing but dress and return to the big house in time for dinner, apologizing for her tardiness without explanation. No one thought it the least odd that she had disappeared for an entire evening and half a day on the same day that Pace took his leave. Had she ever needed proof of her invisibility, she had it in that alone.

The next day's newspaper ran headline banners screaming the deaths of thousands in the battle for Atlanta.

Mid-November 1864

"Damn you yellow-bellied cutthroats, you can't take my horses! You've thieved everything else you can lay your hands on but I'll kill you before I'll let you take those damned horses! I raised every one of them myself and they're the finest stock in the state. I'm not lettin' any Yankee puke harness them to a wagon!"

Dora pressed a calming hand to her uneasy stomach as she heard these words bellowing through the center hall of the house. Carlson Nicholls had existed in a state of apoplexy ever since the army issued traveling passes to those remaining slave families on the farm, ostensibly so they could visit their soldier husbands and fathers.

The women had snatched up the passes and took to coming and going as they pleased, even though most of the trains and riverboats wouldn't allow them on board for fear of reprisal. As long as they had those army passes in their hands, the women could visit neighboring farms whenever they took the notion.

Carlson had wanted to whip them all. Hearing his furious yells, Dora feared to see what catastrophe visited them now.

But his bellowing "damn hell" halted abruptly in mid-curse, followed by an alarmed shout from a strange voice, sending Dora racing down the hall to the veranda.

Carlson was on his knees, clutching his chest. His features had turned an unwholesome shade of gray, and he was gasping for breath. Three blue-coated soldiers stood around him, looking dismayed, while a fourth had run off to the water trough. They looked up with relief at Dora's appearance.

"Your father looks like he's been took real ill, miss. We'd best help him into the house."

Dora nodded agreement and opened the door wider so they could carry Carlson in. He fought them as best as he could, but he couldn't even stand on his own. He finally gave a gasp of sheer anguish and passed out.

"Jem, you'd better go for a doctor," one of the officers ordered. "He doesn't look real good. That's all we need is to have those rebel copperheads yelling we killed an old man."

Dora led them upstairs to a spare room. She didn't think it appropriate to take Carlson back to his mistress's room behind the kitchen. One of the soldiers ran off at his officer's orders. The other three carried Carlson's heavy weight to the bed. When they had him settled and were removing his boots, she rested her hand on his temple, timing the pulse there. It wasn't strong.

"Jem's gone to get a doctor, miss. We're sorry about all this. We were just following orders." The blue-coated officer held his hat in his hands. He really did look apologetic.

It didn't matter. These past months since Pace had taught her to feel again had left her emotions in a chaotic uproar. Temper overcame fear now, and she spoke curtly. "I know, but thou canst not take all we have and expect us to survive the winter. Thou knoweth how much we lost when General Burbridge ordered us to sell the hogs. I know thou must eat, and the general feared the surplus would end up in rebel hands, but the prices were outright fraud. Thou hath barely left me enough to pay the taxes. Now thou wouldst steal the horses, when there is no way of replacing them. I cannot understand why we must be the ones to make these sacrifices. Art thy families giving up everything they own to pay for this war?"

She unfastened Carlson's waistcoat and cravat as she spoke, but she knew she had their attention. They shifted their heavy boots uneasily.

"We've been told this is a rebel household, miss. There aren't any rebels where we come from. Ohio is strongly behind the Union."

Dora checked Carlson's pulse again and scowled at the officer. "This man's son was severely wounded in the Union march on Atlanta. He is even now with General Sherman, possibly destroying the homes of family and friends. Thou must understand that thou art asking us to fight our own families when thou asketh us to destroy the South. All of Kentucky supported the Union until thou began treating us like captives. How can thee possibly understand how this man feels when he has given up everything he has for a war he never wanted?"

The young soldiers looked nervous and embarrassed and didn't dare meet her eyes. The older officer regarded her warily. "If this is a Union household, you will be adequately recompensed for the horses. The army needs them to travel on. We all must make sacrifices."

"Thou must leave us a horse to pull the cart. This is a house of invalids and infants. We must have access to town. Surely thou must see that."

"What I see is a virulent old man trying to hang on to his slaves as if they were animals he can own," the officer answered, getting angry. "Lincoln won't let us take the slaves away, but we have permission to take the animals. Kentuckians think they can have things both ways, but it doesn't work that way. It's time he gets used to it." He made a disparaging nod at the man breathing raggedly on the bed.

"He's a sick old man, and thou hath no right to speak that way." Dora would have said more, but her gaze caught on the anxious faces peering around the door from the hall. Amy toddled into the room, looking up at the tall soldiers as if they were strange trees sprung up for her amusement. Delia remained in the hallway, wringing her hands. Annie was there too, and several of the other women from the quarters eager for the entertainment of disaster.

Dora knelt to pick up the infant. Her back felt the strain of work these days, but she still had the strength for Amy. She kissed the little girl's cheek and tried to keep her voice pleasant.

"I would thee would leave now. We have no men to defend us here, and thy presence is disturbing. Friend Carlson's wife is an invalid and shouldn't be woken. If thou must take horses, I insist on payment. It should be easy confirming that Payson Nicholls is a Union officer. As thou canst see, I am scarcely a rebel. That leaves only one angry old man, and thou knoweth he has a right to anger. I want thy word of honor on this, sir."

The officer looked Dora up and down, from her fists clenched in the child's gown to the determined set of her jaw beneath her muslin cap. She had no right to demand anything of him, but the fact that she dared to do so seemed to impress him.

"All right, miss. We'll leave you a cart horse and pay you fair value for the animals we take. I hope Mr. Nicholls will be all right." He bowed and made a hasty retreat.

Dora wanted to collapse in a shivering heap, but someone had to be strong. She had no idea of the worth of the horses. She had to trust in the soldiers' honesty when they gave her the little pile of federal notes. They left just as the doctor arrived, and she escorted the physician upstairs. She watched in growing anxiety as he examined the patient and shook his head.

Although she had sent the servants away, Dora knew they lingered just out of sight. The general wail that ensued when the doctor finally spoke caused her to shut the door before she sat down and covered the gripping pain in her stomach with her fist.