Rebel (37 page)

He offered her a slow, crooked smile, looking down into her eyes as the two of them swirled around the floor. “Not here. But that’s the sad part of it, Risa. I love my home. Passionately. And that’s where I’ll be an outcast. Not to mention—” he began, then stopped abruptly.

Risa didn’t know what could possibly be driving her to such brash behavior, but she searched his face. “Not to mention the fact that you’ll be an outcast from your own bed?” she inquired.

His hold tightened around her waist. His eyes were very cold, very hard, and she didn’t know if the look was for her … or for his absent wife. “My wife will have to be tolerant of my choices. My mind is made up,” he told her.

Then they swirled around the room again to the sweet strains of a trio of violins. And as they turned, Risa saw that the front door had opened. Rose Greenhow greeted
an exquisite petite blond who was encompassed in a black velvet cloak.

Risa didn’t know how she knew, but she
knew
.

Ian’s Southern wife had come to survey Northern society for herself.

A tall, dark-haired woman answered the bell when Alaina arrived. Alaina had been ready to flee the minute she reached the door, but she chastised herself and nervously determined that she had come so far, she must now go in.

The woman’s taffeta skirts rustled, a sweet whisper of perfume touched the air around her. She was, Alaina thought, perhaps in her forties, an extremely handsome woman with a special vibrance about her face and eyes. Her eyes were very dark as was her hair. She had a wonderful smile and appeared impressive in every way.

The woman swept her gaze over Alaina and apparently decided she must be among the invited. “Good evening, do come in,” she said with an engaging smile. “And pray do tell me—whom have I the honor of meeting?”

“I’m Alaina McCa—McKenzie,” she corrected quickly. “Mrs…. Greenhow?”

“Oh, indeed, yes! I am Rose Greenhow,” the woman said delightedly. “And naturally, you’re Ian’s wife! How foolish of me, I should have known, it’s just that— well… my dear, in that lovely cloak your condition isn’t at all apparent, and it’s my understanding that you’re expecting your confinement quite soon?”

“By the end of January, I imagine,” Alaina told her.

“Ah, yes, well, it seems we do like to make such a hush-hush thing about the beauty of human life, eh? So many women behave like silly ostriches themselves, hiding away when they should be up and about. Children are a gift from god.”

“You have children?”

“I had four daughters. I’m afraid I’ve recently lost one. Please, do come in. It’s absolutely marvelous to see you here. I’m sorry; I didn’t expect you. Ian had originally sent his regrets for you both, then he was apparently influenced to attend. … I believe his senior officer specifically asked him to be here tonight for a few informal
discussions. However, he should have warned me that you would be here!”

Alaina wasn’t sure how to respond; she was glad not to have to do so, for Rose Greenhow didn’t wait for an answer, but swept her into the room.

Alaina’s heart sank. For there was her husband dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room.

The colonel’s daughter?

She was tall and slender, but her wasplike waist appeared all the more perfect in comparison to the more than adequate cleavage that rose from her bodice. She was dark, her hair as soft and sleek as deep sable. Her face was a perfect oval; her eyes were light green. A shade that changed even as they lit upon Alaina and seemed to darken to a deep aquamarine.

She noticed Alaina when the rest of the people in the room were still too preoccupied to do so. They were quite possibly living on the eve of destruction, Alaina thought, yet the place pulsed with life. She could hear bits and pieces of conversation as she entered the room. Men who might well soon be enemies met and mingled in the home of this society matron, smoked cigars together, bragged as to why the cotton states would secede and win any skirmish, or why the North would stomp out such ill-advised rebellion.

“Come, dear, let me find your husband and introduce you about,” Rose Greenhow said, adding in a whisper, “People have been just dying to meet you, dear. They’ll be so pleased that you’ve made an appearance.”

Alaina doubted that Washington society women would be glad to meet her; they would surely condemn her presence, and she might well be fueling the gossips for some time to come. But then, that wouldn’t be something new for her.

Still, now that she was here, she longed to run away. Especially now that the colonel’s daughter was watching her with her perfect green eyes while Ian’s hand rested upon her waist.

The colonel’s daughter whispered to Ian, and he spun around.

Startled. Truly startled.

Ian was good at concealing his thoughts and emotions. He betrayed very little. But Alaina knew him. And she
saw the pulse ticking at his throat, and the quick darkening of his eyes, and she knew that he was angry. She suddenly wanted to hide, but she could not. A servant came for her cloak, and she was left in her black lace gown, forcing a smile, extending her hand as Rose Greenhow propelled her toward a handsome older couple and made introductions.

More and more people came forward, men and women. Alaina fought the temptation to tremble, smiled graciously, and responded as well as she could. Then she found that Mrs. Greenhow was introducing her to the colonel’s daughter, the young woman with the velvety dark hair, beautiful green eyes, and perfect, minuscule waist. “Ah, there you are, dear Risa! This is Alaina, Ian’s wife. Risa is Colonel Magee’s daughter, so naturally you two must become great friends!”

Alaina and Risa stared at one another with wooden smiles.

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Magee,” Alaina managed.

“The pleasure is mine,” Risa responded courteously. “Ian has been so much a part of our lives—my father and I have been most eager to meet you.”

“But my dear!” exclaimed one of the older matrons to whom Alaina had just been introduced. Mrs. McNally, Alaina thought. Her husband was in Congress. “There’s no need for you to hide away! There’s always such a busy social scene here, and you simply must be a part of it! Such a shame that you haven’t been about before!”

“Now, Clara, Mrs. McKenzie was ill last year, and you musn’t demand her time,” Risa said politely.

“I was ill—but I’m quite well now,” Alaina assured the other woman. “Well, other than…”

The very beautiful Risa was watching her, waiting courteously for her to continue. Then the strangest light in the other woman’s eyes let Alaina know that Risa had just realized her situation; that Ian was obviously having little or nothing to do with her now.

Alaina closed her eyes, suddenly feeling ill. She was the one wearing his ring, the one having his child, bearing his name, she told herself. And surely that hurt the other woman.

The woman he had
intended
to marry.

“I’m really feeling extremely well,” she said. “I could… climb mountains!” she offered sweetly.

“Ah,” Risa murmured, arching a brow suddenly.

Alaina turned slightly realizing that Ian stood behind her. With her cloak.

A tremor ripped down her back. His eyes appeared nearly black. “My love,” he said, in a tone that indicated she was anything but. “I’ve not been able to reach you— you’re quite surrounded. It was so good of you to come out, but I think it’s been quite long enough, don’t you?”

She fought the flush that threatened to engulf her cheeks, feeling like a child being reprimanded. In front of Rose Greenhow, Risa, and Mrs. McNally—the sum of Washington society.

“I’m really quite fine,” she insisted mildly.

But suddenly she wasn’t.

She was…

Drenched.

For the first fraction of a second, she didn’t know what had happened. But Jennifer had warned her about all the stages of childbirth, and she knew what had happened as her skirts became soaked, even while she tried to deny that fate could twist around this way: Her water had broken.

The baby was coming.

She hadn’t felt the first hint of pain…

Except that she did then. A sudden, awful pain. Like a knife right across her back.

Panic filled her; she felt the blood draining from her face. Oddly enough, it was Risa Magee’s flashing green eyes she saw touch upon hers with realization. They held her gaze for what seemed like an endless time, yet it was just a matter of seconds.

She spun around with perfect precision, knocking a large amber beer from the hand of a nearby politician. “I am so sorry. Oh, look at the spill I’ve created!”

“Alaina, dear, don’t be distressed, we’ll get it picked up,” Rose assured her calmly.

And though Alaina was grateful, she was humiliated as well when Risa leaned across her, suggesting softly, “Ian, I think you might want to get your wife home now. Quickly.”

F
lorida officially seceded from the Union on January 10, 1861, the third state to do so, following Mississippi’s secession on January 9.

Alaina was blissfully unaware of those events, however, for Sean Michael McKenzie finally made his appearance at precisely noon on the tenth of January. Despite the fact that Alaina’s water had broken and her pains were almost instantly severe, her son chose to take his time coming into the world.

With an immediate understanding of the situation, Ian had enwrapped her in her cloak, swept her up, and carried her outside to the carriage. By then, she was shivering fiercely, and already learning the meaning of the combination of the words
labor
and
pain.
He was anxious, angry, and called her a little fool, but then, in retrospect, that was nothing considering some of the things she called him as the night progressed to morning. The doctor Ian summoned was a kindly sort, but of the firm belief that a fair amount of suffering had been dictated upon women by God himself—and who was he, as a mere mortal, to intervene?

It was almost good to have Ian to argue with as the hours wore on. Despite the fact that the doctor suggested he be about his own business, have a drink in his library, go for a midnight ride, Ian remained with her once Lilly—who had the most irritating “I told you so” manner about her—had gotten her out of her soaked clothing and into a clean gown and her bed. Stroking her head with cool cloths, Ian demanded irritably, “What on earth possessed you to do such a stunt?”

“I had to get out,” she told him. “I was bored, I was—”

“More concerned with politics than your child, madam,” he finished angrily for her.

“No, no, I… Ian, really. He or she is just a bit early here.”

“There was no reason for you to be out.”

They were in the room alone at the moment. She closed her eyes and whispered, “I needed to see the reason you were out.”

“Oh really. Well, you did manage to bring me home, didn’t you, my love?” he queried softly.

Her eyes flew open as she searched his, but they were fathomless, and when she would have spoken again, she was seized by so wretched a pain that she nearly screamed aloud. She wasn’t going to allow him to see her suffer, however, and she clenched down on her teeth, fighting the rush of tears that burned at her eyelids. “You should… leave!” she gasped.

“I think not. I am responsible for the current situation,” he said thoughtfully. “I was there for the beginning of this; I’ll see it through to the end.”

So he wouldn’t leave her. Even when she very viciously told him what he really should be doing with himself. And as time passed, she became glad he had stayed, nearly breaking his fingers upon occasion as she clutched his hand. Through the hours she listened to the deep tenor of his voice as he soothed her through the worst of the pains, feeling the gentle pressure of his fingers as he rubbed her temple or her nape, helping ease her tension.

Even when the babe was actually born, he refused to leave, and he was the first to take his son from the doctor, studying him even before Lilly could scoop him up to be bathed and wrapped in a towel. And there was something very wonderful, in all her exhaustion, about hearing the pleasure in lan’s voice as he told her, “A boy, Alaina, a boy with a mop of hair, ten fingers, ten toes, perfect in every way. I did tell you it would be a boy, didn’t I?” he added, and not without a certain amount of arrogance. Yet at that moment, it didn’t matter. She smiled. She’d never felt so tired and worn or so dazzlingly happy at any time in her life. She reached for her son, who wailed in indignant protest at the new world. She examined him quickly and saw that Ian was
right: He was perfect in every way—large and well formed, ten fingers, ten toes—and an amazing amount of dark hair for an infant. His eyes were blue, like his father’s, yet she wondered if they would stay. She felt an amazing surge of emotion within her then, for the child, and his father. She had known that she loved Ian despite the difficulties between them; but until that moment, she hadn’t realized how deeply.

“Your eyes,” she whispered softly to Ian.

“Mine, or maybe Teddy’s,” he said quietly.

Alaina glanced up at him. He smoothed damp hair from her forehead, and she caught his hand and kissed his fingers. “Thank you for that,” she said softly.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, and then her mouth. “Thank you for my son,” he told her. She smiled, looked at her son, who was now gravely observing her, and then allowed her eyes to close. Someone took the baby away. Ian, she thought. She had never felt quite so much at peace.

And she slept.

The following days passed quickly. She was tired and slept frequently, because it didn’t matter. All that she wanted to do in those first few days was see the baby and marvel at him. She didn’t even notice the hours that Ian was gone, because he came to her room every evening, and sat at her bedside and studied the baby with her. He didn’t sleep with her; he remained in his own room. But it seemed that he was always close, and for the time being, she was content.

She was glad that he didn’t dictate their son’s name, but consulted her. “I’d like to name him Sean Michael McKenzie, after my grandfather,” he suggested, looking down at his son. The baby gripped Ian’s thumb tightly as he studied his father. Ian continued, “I suppose you’d like Theodore, but I’d prefer to use a McKenzie family name first, if you agree. If you wish, we can name our second son for Teddy.”