Rebel (33 page)

She lowered her lashes quickly. Ian just didn’t want to see the truth. His state was going to leave the Union. When his state actually did so, Ian would accept the fact that there was going to be a split. And he would resign then.

He was going to leave her. And she didn’t want him remembering her as harping like a shrew. She forced herself to smile. She stroked the back of his hand with her fingertips, eyes downcast. “Then I will be anxious to reach D.C., except that …”

“Yes?” he inquired.

“Ian, our child could be born then … in the North.”

“It will be born in the North.”

She shuddered slightly, and he laughed. “If two cats were to reproduce on the moon, my love, they’d still be cats. Our child will be a Floridian, no matter what.”

“Are you a Floridian no matter what, Ian?”

“Yes, my love, no matter what—and no matter what anyone thinks,” he added quietly. The last words seemed ominous.

She didn’t want to argue! she reminded herself. And still, she would have challenged him, except…

“Ian!”

“What?”

“Now, Ian, now. Oh, Ian, Julian is right! He—or she— is alive and… strong! Feel, Ian, feel!”

She drew his hand against her. To her delight, the child within her quite agreeably gave another mighty kick.

Ian held very still, his hand upon her. Then he jerked away quite suddenly, almost as if the babe’s movement had burned him.

“Ian—”

“Indeed,” he said huskily, “He—or she—lives.”

Tears of relief and happiness stung her eyes. She blinked quickly and furiously, hiding them.

Ian leaned over her then. She felt his warmth, breathed his scent, wished that he would hold her.

He kissed her chastely on the forehead. Then he straightened, touching the brim of his plumed slouch hat so that its angle shadowed his eyes. “Take care of our child—and yourself. Take care, my love,” he said.

And before she could reply, he turned and left her.

“I
an!”

Through what seemed like a solid mass of humanity, Ian saw his cousin Brent. Thankfully, Brent was tall enough to stand above most of the chattering men and women who milled about. Ian waved in return to his cousin’s call and moved through the crowded public room of the Thayer Inn, an establishment directly across from the Charleston battery. He wondered now if he hadn’t been a fool to plan on meeting his cousins and his wife here. He’d never seen the city so crowded. The hotel itself was very old and most customarily a reserved place frequented by the same families throughout the generations. Today, it might as well have been the Fourth of July.

He made his way to Brent at last, who embraced him quickly and drew away, smiling wryly. “It’s madness here, isn’t it? Come on over, I’ve maneuvered a space at the bar—and we’ve already secured our rooms. The minute Sydney heard that they were bringing the legislative council meeting here from Columbia because of the fever there, she saw to our rooms. Naturally, we could have gone to the plantation, but with the excitement in the city, it seemed that we should stay. Did you hear what’s happening?”

Of course Ian had heard. South Carolina’s legislature had called a convention in the state’s capitol to form an ordinance of secession; smallpox, however, had caused the members to move the convention to Charleston.

The first meeting had taken place at Institute Hall on December 17. Now the Convention had been hammering out details for several days. Ian had learned all this on his way to Charleston. It was far too late to stop Alaina
from coming here, and so there was nothing to do except hope that her ship had arrived without incident.

Not that he sensed any hostility at the moment. The mood in the streets was jubilant. People felt as if they were part of a second Declaration of Independence— which, in essence, they were. And it didn’t matter in the least that so many men were wearing the uniform of the United States army. Everyone waited. Timing was everything.

December 1860 had been a time when many had desperately sought compromise. The Congress of the United States had worked feverishly. The Virginia Legislature had called an unofficial “Peace Convention.”

Ian could have told them all, however, that very little would happen in Washington now. President Buchanan was a good enough man, but a man sitting on a fence. Biding his time until Lincoln should take over the presidency.

“I just heard on the docks that they’re expecting the convention to break today,” Ian said. “It seems there will be a meeting at Institute Hall with state and city officials.”

“And the bands will all play!” Brent agreed with a touch of sarcasm. Brent was against secession, Ian knew, but he was a Southerner, with deep convictions. Still, he hadn’t resided in South Carolina long enough for it to be his state. What Florida did in the next months would matter to his cousin, but no member of James McKenzie’s immediate family was ever going to wear the uniform of the United States army. At best, most of Ian’s own family would remain neutral.

“A wonderful place to have arranged to meet my wife,” Ian said unhappily as he and Brent wedged their way to the old oak bar. Brent had apparently become well acquainted with the bartender in the last months, because he did nothing more than lift a hand and shots of whiskey were set before the men.

“Actually,” Brent said with a trace of amusement, “she’s enjoying it tremendously.”

“She’s here?” Ian said startled. “But her ship wasn’t due in until tomorrow afternoon!”

“It seems they had favorable winds,” Brent said, lifting his whiskey. “Cheers. Alaina disembarked last evening;
but don’t worry. Sydney and I were there when the ship came in, and your wife wasn’t alone anyway. She was accompanied by Lilly and and a man of mixed blood called Samson.”

“One of Teddy’s laborers,” Ian murmured, glad that Samson had traveled with his wife. Julian’s doing, no doubt. Samson’s Indian blood was strong, but his mother had been a mulatto slave in St. Augustine. Teddy had purchased both mother and son years ago and freed them, and the family had worked for Teddy on Belamar ever since. “So where is Alaina now?”

Brent grinned, looking past Ian. “Coming down the stairs with Sydney right now.”

Ian turned toward the elegant stairway that led to the second floor of the establishment and the guest rooms there. Sydney was first, very lovely and quite proper in a deep lavender taffeta day dress, laced at the bodice in both black and white trim. She saw Ian, smiled, waved, and turned to Alaina, who was just behind her.

Alaina remained in mourning, wearing black from head to toe. Against the severe ebony of her gown and the black velvet of the cloak she wore atop it, her hair— swept into a chignon with only a few tendrils artfully escaping—seemed to burn like the rays of the sun, a true gold. Her face held a trace of new maturity that somehow added to her extraordinary beauty. Though she was pale, she was obviously well, smiling in response to a passerby on the stairs, then turning in Ian’s direction.

Her eyes met his, as gold as her hair, glittering with pleasure and warmth. Her lips curled into a slow, only slightly hesitant smile, and she held very still, watching him.

The buzz of revelry in the room seemed to fade, and he made his way quickly through the throng of people to reach the foot of the stairs. He offered Sydney a quick smile, kissing her cheek, then reached for Alaina’s hand, drawing her into the fold of his embrace.

It was only then he realized that despite the slender appearance of her face, she was…

Quite simply huge.

He frowned, instinctively worried that such a small woman should be carrying such a large child. He quickly readjusted his stance, slipping an arm about her shoulders
and kissing her cheek almost as chastely as he done with his cousin. Crowds seemed to press around them, even as he led the two women back toward Brent’s position at the bar. “I’m sorry!” he shouted to Alaina. “Had I known of all this mayhem, I’d never have had you come here!”

She turned slightly in his arms, face alight with laughter. “Ian, I’m fine. It’s fascinating! There’s so much going on! South Carolina’s secession is going to be announced today, there are going be bands playing, parades all over the city—fireworks. Ian, it’s quite amazing to be here for this!”

He was irritated with her enthusiasm. He didn’t know why no one was worried about the loss of what had been the great experiment of the United States. And in truth, he wasn’t at all certain she should be up and about in her condition.

“Amazing,” he agreed dryly, studying her.

She had made enormous progress the last two months. Though she was pale, she did have a touch of color to her cheeks. Her lips were as deep as wine, her vibrance gave her an enchanting appeal. She seemed truly pleased to see him—unless she was simply so pleased to be here to see the states begin to secede.

“Ah, ladies!” Brent said as they reached his side. “Now that you have maneuvered all that… perhaps we should go back up. We’ve a balcony room overlooking the streets. We’ll see most of the festivities from there.”

“Quite right,” Ian heard himself saying firmly. “Brent, as a physician, advise Alaina that this mob is not good for her condition.”

Brent ever so slightly arched a brow; in his practice, he’d noted that women who went best to childbirth were those who had kept active up to their time of confinement. But he went along with Ian’s ploy.

“Sorry, ladies, but Ian is correct. Shall we go on up?”

On their way back through the crowd, Ian was startled to hear his name called. He turned to see Andrew Tweed, his great-uncle. Andrew was nearly seventy, straight as a rod, with a headful of rippling white hair. Ian gladly clasped the man’s hand, greeting him warmly. “Ian, my good fellow, what are you doing here?” Andrew
demanded. “I had last heard that you were working in Washington with the Army Corps of Engineers.”

“Something like that. I was actually with the cartographers for quite some time. I’m here to meet my wife.” He drew Alaina before him and introduced them.

“Wife and child, eh?” Andrew teased, greeting Alaina with a polite brushing of her hand with his lips. “Brent! Good Dr. Brent! You neglected to tell me your cousin was on the way,” Andrew accused, looking past Ian.

“Andrew, I’ve scarce had a moment these days, what with everyone fearing the smallpox.”

“Ah, of course. Well, people will be heedless of an outbreak in Columbia today. All hell has broken out on the waterfront. How intriguing it all is! As of today, it seems I will no longer be an ‘American.’ I’m not quite sure just what I shall be.”

“A Rebel!” cried a slim, dandified young drunk from the bar. “A Rebel. Watch it, ah, there’s a Yank in the crowd. Just waiting for word to damn the old eagle and take flight with the new South, eh, Major?”

Ian ignored the drunk. “We’re moving upstairs with Alaina and Sydney, sir,” he said to Andrew. “Please, come up if you’ve a mind to do so.”

“What’s the matter,
Yank?
” the stranger called out, irritated at Ian’s lack of response. He pushed his way between Andrew Tweed and Ian. “You’re in a free state here, so that uniform means nothing, less than nothing. You’re wearing dirt!”

He spat, aiming for Ian but hitting the floor between them. He took an angry step toward Ian then, his arm swinging.

Ian easily avoided him, and to his own dismay, he acted before thinking. He punched the man with a rapid-fire right hook, and the drunk went down on the ground. People were milling everywhere then, hooting in derision to the fallen man, hailing Ian. “It’s Major McKenzie, out of Florida! A Rebel soon enough, eh, Major?” came another cry.

To Ian’s surprise and fury, Alaina determined to answer for him. “When Florida takes action, so will my husband!” she cried out, laughing.

He could have throttled her then and there, despite her enchanting enthusiasm and beauty—and profoundly
rounded abdomen—and the light in her gold eyes as they touched his.

“Uncle, forgive me,” he said simply, stepping over the drunk, securing Alaina’s elbow, and propelling her up the steps.

Alaina knew that Ian was angry, and yet she felt exasperated and at a loss.

She’d been so glad to see him. So anxious at home, gaining strength each day, sometimes so eager to see him she could scarcely bear it, and at times, so worried as to what he might be doing that she grew furious that she could allow herself such foolishness. But she had fallen in love with him; and she couldn’t help but be plagued by jealousy. And even today, her thoughts when she had dressed had spiraled in a mad fashion, for she loved the child it seemed that she had carried now almost forever—loved it deeply, sight unseen. The baby’s movements were as familiar to her as her own. Yet this morning, she wished fleetingly that the babe might be born.

Because she did resemble a house, and because…

She wanted Ian to want her.

All that had brought about their marriage failed to matter now, and all that did matter was that she loved him. She loved him not just for holding her, but for holding his own temper when she was hurt. She loved him for his manner with Teddy, for his pride, for his dogged determination, for his sense of honor. More. She loved the sight of him, the feel of his hands, the way he moved, the way his eyes burned when he was angry or filled with desire.

He was simply entirely unreasonable, and it was his fault, not hers today. She was disappointed not to stand in the midst of things as Institute Hall was crammed to the gills at nightfall and South Carolina declared her secession from the United States of America. They did see and hear the shouting and mayhem in the streets after the proclamation was made, from the vantage point of the wrought-iron balcony that opened from the parlor of their suite. Young men from a military academy paraded to the blaring music of an able band; dancers and
acrobats played in the streets. Fireworks were set off, filling the night sky. The atmosphere was electric.

Ian sat by her, watching the festivities, commenting— mostly to Brent—on the music they heard, on the youth of the men marching, on the beauty of the fireworks. He was perfectly courteous through the evening, but subdued, his cobalt eyes very dark despite the light tenor of his words, and Alaina was afraid that something was simmering in him that would eventually explode.