Sweet Release (35 page)

“Oh, Alec, I’m dying!”

Feeling her desperation, Alec suckled harder upon her, nipped her breasts gently with his teeth, and quickened the pace. Around and around he moved, his cock deep inside her. And then he felt it—her sharp intake of breath, the quivering of her belly, the tightness of her muscles as they contracted around him.

She cried out and arched her back, nearly lifting him with her as bliss overtook her a second time.

When her climax had passed, he again held himself still within her and watched as her breathing slowed. “You have no idea how exciting it is to watch you come,” he said, nuzzling her throat, kissing her eyelids.

“You watch?” She looked up at him. A shy smile curved the corners of her lips.

“Mmm-hmmm.” He withdrew from her all the way, still rock hard, and then buried himself again, eliciting a deep moan. “Keep your eyes open this time.”

“Again? Oh, Alec, I can’t—“

“You can.” He kissed her. “You will.”

Near the end of his restraint, he reached down and lifted her legs so that they rested on his shoulders. “Trust me,” he said at the surprised look on her face. Placing his hands beneath her bottom, he angled her hips so his shaft would stroke the most sensitive part inside her. Then he withdrew again and plunged into her intoxicating warmth. Her hands gripped the muscles of his arms, nails digging into his skin.

Faster, harder, he drove himself into her, his gaze locked with hers. Deeper he plunged, until he could feel her womb. His sac bounced against her bottom with each stroke, his testicles tightening as his own peak drew near. He felt her climax, saw the bliss in her eyes—and his control shattered. Giving in to rapture, he exploded, pouring himself into her as she milked him to ecstasy, giving him final release.

Moments later he kissed the moisture from her brow.

“I believe, my dear,” he said when he could speak again, “you have slain me.”

***

Cassie peered at the tobacco leaf Micah held in his hands, keenly aware of Alec’s presence beside her. The color was right—a grayish yellow-green—and when the overseer bent it, the leaf snapped cleanly in two.

“It’s time,” Micah said, his brow beaded with perspiration. He turned and whistled sharply, signaling to the field hands to bring their knives and begin cutting.

Cassie shaded her eyes from the hot August sun, surveying the field, row upon row of tobacco plants extending well into the distance. It was an enormous task that lay ahead of them.

“You’d best begin.” She gave Alec a guarded smile, memories of last night’s lovemaking fresh in her heart. With so many people around, she could not do what she wanted to do, which was to take his hand and give him a kiss. It was still hard for her to believe these past six weeks of loving had not been a dream.

“As you wish, mistress,” he replied, his eyes telling her he had not forgotten last night either.

“Do be careful,” she whispered, watching as he tested the tobacco knife in his hand, getting a feel for its weight. “I wouldn’t want you to lop off anything important by accident.”

“Thank you for the advice.” His face was serious, but his blue eyes sparkled.

She turned and threaded her way through the rows of lush waisthigh plants back to the cookhouse, where empty jugs waited to be filled with sweet water and cider. The men would grow thirsty working so hard in this heat and would need something cool to refresh them.

Looking over her shoulder to capture one last discreet glimpse, she saw Alec bent low, slashing the tobacco stalks and tossing them on the ground to wilt in the sun, the muscles of his back shifting as he worked. Pretending he meant nothing to her was sheer torture. So far their affection for one another seemed to have gone undiscovered by all save Takotah, and perhaps Nan. Takotah had left a pouch of herbs on Cassie’s bed one afternoon without saying a word. Only when Cassie opened it and smelled the contents did she realize Takotah’s intent. These particular herbs were used to prevent a man’s seed from taking root. She had tucked them away, hesitant to use them. Her monthly flux had come and gone as expected last month, and she’d been torn between relief and bitter disappointment at the knowledge that she did not carry his child. He would be leaving so soon.

A shadow passed over her heart at the thought. She was forced to feign indifference by day, but he meant everything to her. She’d lost count of the times they’d made love these past six weeks, meeting secretly by night in the stables, in his cabin, at the cove. Just when she thought he’d taught her all there was to know about love between a man and a woman, he’d show her something new, bringing her unimagined pleasure, satisfying her completely. Except for one thing.

He still hadn’t said he loved her. And she, afraid to tell him what lay in her heart, had not been able to speak those words to him, even though they were on her lips every time he smiled or touched her or called her name.

As she rounded the comer of the cookhouse, she made the mistake of looking toward the porch. It was empty. For a moment the sight took her by surprise, but only for a moment. A lump rose to her throat as she remembered.

Old Charlie was gone. The ague had come back in force, the stagnant marsh air fed by the recent rains. This time it had taken lives. The first to die had been a slave child barely a year old. Charlie had been next, the fever taking him so suddenly Takotah had had no chance to treat him. They’d buried him nearly two weeks ago. Cassie had defied the law that forbade funeral services for slaves and read from the Bible herself. Still she could not believe he was gone. He’d been with her family since before she was born, had held her on his knee, told her stories, whittled wooden horses for her as he had later whittled wooden ships for Jamie. How she would have gotten through that day without Alec to comfort her, she knew not.

Four others lay ill at the moment, but Takotah expected them to recover. Cassie prayed they would. Summer was nearly past.

Soon the marsh air would cool and lose its vile potency. If only they could all stay healthy until then. The supply of quinquina was running dangerously low.

She opened the door to the cookhouse to the sound of someone retching.

“Did God give ye no sense, child?” she heard Nan ask.

Nan held Eily’s head over a copper basin while the girl threw up her breakfast.

“We all know better than to eat strange berries. Is it an early grave yer lookin’ for?”

Elly wiped her mouth on the cloth Nan provided, panting for breath, her face unusually pale.

“What did the berries look like?” Alarmed, Cassie felt Eily’s forehead for fever. She was cool.

“I’d swear they were blackberries, mistress.” Eily’s blue eyes were as round as those of a frightened child. “I’d not have eaten them else.”

“Does your stomach hurt?”

“Nay, mistress. Oooh!” She threw up again.

“Poor lamb.” Nan stroked her forehead.

“When did you first start feeling ill?” Cassie was puzzled. Usually eating poisonous plants brought stomach pain, fever, fits, and other symptoms.

“It’s been this way every morning this week,” Elly said when she caught her breath.

Perplexed, Cassie tried to recall any illnesses that included similar symptoms.

“When was your last flux?” Nan asked gravely.

Cassie gasped. This was what she had hoped to prevent.

“When was your last flux?” Nan asked again.

Elly turned beet red. “June.”

Nan reached inside Eily’s gown and, ignoring the girl’s squeak of protest, felt her breasts. “You’re not sick, lamb. You’re with child.” Nan shook her head soberly and bent her heavy form to remove the fouled basin. Its contents would go to the pigs. “Who is the father?” Cassie demanded.

“A baby!” Elly whispered. She lifted her chin and glared at Cassie in defiance.

“Very well. I think I know the answer.”

Cassie turned and stormed out of the cookhouse in search of a sawyer who was about to get the tongue-lashing of his life. Zach had not been himself for weeks. He drank alone until the wee hours of the morning, then got up late each day, his temper foul. Alec had said it must have something to do with Elly. He’d been right. By the time she found him, Zach was working beside Alec, a trail of freshly cut tobacco behind them. “Zachariah Bowers!” She quickened her stride.

Both Zach and Alec looked up. Cassie suppressed the thrill she felt at seeing Alec again. He stood covered in sweat, his brown skin glistening in the midmorning sun. She could read in his eyes that he was happy to see her, too.

But that was not why she was here.

“When a woman calls your name like that, ye know ye’ve got trouble,” Zach muttered to Alec, who nodded gravely in agreement.

“If it’s about the drinkin’, Miss Cassie—”

“In a way it is,” she said, fixing him with her harshest gaze. “You may want to give up the whiskey now you’re about to become a father.”

“A what?” Zach gaped at her. “A father?”

“It is your babe Elly carries in her belly, is it not?”

She saw his eyes fill with comprehension.

“Oh, no, Elly. Good Lord!” He dropped to his knees as if struck by a fist.

Whatever reaction Cassie had expected, this was not it.

“Nay, mistress,” he said after a moment, his voice ragged. “The babe is not mine.”

She stared at him, bewildered. “Are you sure?”

“Aye. If I’d managed to woo Elly into my bed, I’d remember.” He laughed bitterly, steadied himself, and rose to his feet. His eyes were clouded with despair.

“I’m sorry. I-I thought. ..” Cassie stammered, suddenly understanding his recent bad temper and constant drinking. Elly had been ignoring him, had been with someone else. How could Cassie have borne such bad news so tactlessly?

But Zach had already turned back to his work, slashing at the tobacco with the wooden movements of one in a trance.

Cassie shared one last concerned glance with Alec before turning back.

If Zach was not the father, who was?

Alec watched Cassie walk back toward the cookhouse, admiring the soft sway of her hips beneath her blue work dress. So Elly was pregnant. He wasn’t surprised. But Zach certainly had been. Zach slashed at the tobacco as if it were an enemy. Alec knew there was nothing he could say. In fact, opening his mouth just now might earn him a black eye and a few loose teeth.

A few months ago he’d have thought Zach a fool for loving a woman who seemed to care nothing for him. But now? All things considered, Alec thought Zach had reacted to the news with a good deal of restraint. How would Alec have behaved had Cassie been with someone else? What if she had lifted her skirts for him, then turned away? Or ignored him completely and gone into the arms of another man? What if she were now carrying another man’s child? It was something he didn’t even want to imagine. i Allowing himself to get caught up in the rhythm of his work, Alec didn’t realize how much time had passed or how thirsty he’d become until Zach tapped him on the shoulder some time later and handed him a jug of cool cider. He stood, stretched his back, and took several deep swallows.

The crack of musketfire split the air.

The jug in Alec’s hands shattered.

Chapter Twenty-three

Instinctively Alec dropped to the ground, pulling Zach with him. “Over there.” He pointed to the edge of the forest, where the shot had come from.

Around them, men’s voices called out in alarm.

“Did I hear what I think I heard?” Micah, bent at the waist, made his way down the row.

Alec nodded, looking down the tobacco row at the men crouching for cover. “Is everyone all right?”

They nodded.

“I’m going to have a look,” Alec said.

“Are ye daft?” Zach wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead.

“Someone just took a shot at ye.”

“That’s why I’m going to check it out.” He stood, his gaze fixed on the dark line of trees ahead.

“I’m coming with ye.”

Crouching, Alec and Zach moved swiftly across the field to the forest, followed by Micah and the rest of the men. The ground was covered with a dense blanket of pine needles. There were no footprints Alec could see, but the sharp odor of gunpowder lingered in the air.

“Over there!” It was Henry. He stood at the far end of the search party, pointing off through the trees. “Lads, a fair few, dressed for the hunt. They ran like rabbits when they saw us.”

Alec looked in the direction Henry was pointing but saw nothing.

“They’ll nae be back.” Henry seemed nervous. His face was red from exertion. His brow dripped with sweat. “Just a huntin’ accident. Good no one was hurt.”

“Back to work,” Micah called. The worry on his face told Alec he was far from convinced this was simply an accident, but the tobacco crop called. “We got a mountain of tobacco to cut before sunset.”

Alec watched Henry walk back toward the fields. Together with the falling tree and the copperhead in his cabin—he’d found it lurking beneath his blankets and had dragged it outdoors by its tail, the blanket still over its head—this was someone’s third attempt to kill him. Whoever was behind this wanted it to look like an accident, but the assassin was getting desperate. Shooting him in broad daylight was bound to raise suspicions.