Through the Storm

  “Does this please Your Majesty?” he asked huskily, while his fingers toyed with the pebble-hard points.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.” Her nipples were pleased, ripe and full. Her lips were kiss swollen, and desire had given birth to a soft, rhythmic pulsing between her thighs. She didn’t want it to stop—any of it. Not the way his mouth teased her breasts, or the dangerous sensation of his warm hands sliding possessively over her hips. His heated kisses were making her lose sight of who and where she was, but she didn’t care. Life was too short.

  Raimond wanted nothing more than to strip away the ugly gown and explore her fully. The sweet fire he tasted in her lips had him as hard as he’d ever been. Passion spurred him to woo her, touch her, lay her down on the wooden platform and let the night wind join him as he spread kisses over every bared inch of her golden skin. Her full breasts burned his palms, and her sweet sighs of pleasure as he suckled her again made him want to take her to the heights. But he had to get her back to the hospital. Maybe next time, he would free her to his glowing eyes and sensuous touches, and show her the path to le petit morte. “We need to get back before Araminta sends out a search party…”

  The words had to be the most disappointing ones Sable had heard all day, but she knew he was right. Duty took precedence over her wish to remain in his arms.

  Raimond touched his lips to hers and slid a parting caress over her curves. “There will be other nights…I promise.”

  “I will hold you to that promise,” she whispered softly.

  They climbed down the rope ladder and retraced their steps to the hospital. When they were almost there, he pulled her back into the shadows and took a moment to give her a dazzling, knee-melting kiss of farewell. As he slowly broke the seal of their lips, it took her a few moments to find herself in the foggy state of desire left in the wake of the kiss, and only then could she open her eyes. She looked up at him standing there so handsome and tall and said, “You could have any woman in this camp. Why me?”

  “Because you’re the only one I desire.”

  Early the next morning, Sable received a visit from Avery Cole. She knew him fairly well by now, but not since the first night they’d met had she seen him look so visibly upset. She ushered him outside onto the hospital’s porch so their conversation wouldn’t disturb the men in the ward. “Whatever is the matter, Avery?”

  “There’s a man asking after a green-eyed slave woman named Sable Fontaine.”

  Sable felt her heart go cold. “What does he look like?”

  Avery described a man who could only be Henry Morse.

  Sable’s chin rose. “It sounds like the man I was supposed to be sold to. Is he still here?”

  “Yep. Says he’s going to the head army man to get help locating you.”

  “Well, I’m not going back, so he might as well go on home.”

  Avery shook his head. “He didn’t look the type to give up easy. I heard he wasn’t real respectful when asking after you, so as far as I know, no one told him anything.”

  Sable was grateful for that. “Was he alone?”

  “They said he had a woman with him. His wife?”

  Sable shrugged. She hoped the woman would turn out to be Mavis. Sable wanted to give her the news about Andrew.

  “I’ve good news too, though. Me and the family are going North. Salome’s been helping one of the missionary societies distribute clothing, and the missionary has found a church in Rhode Island to sponsor us. We leave in the next few days.”

  Sable inwardly flinched at the prospect of yet another loss, but she replied sincerely, “That is good news.”

  Avery seemed to be speaking from the heart when he said, “Sable, Salome and I will never forget you. Salome’s going to have a baby next spring. If it’s a girl, we already plan to name her Sable, after you.”

  Sable had tears in her eyes.

  Avery had wet eyes too. “You take care of yourself, now. And remember, that man can’t take you back unless you want to go. You’re free.”

  Sable nodded and watched as another person she had feelings for turned away and walked out of her life.

  Later that morning, as Sable sat at the bedside of a soldier who wanted a letter written, she looked up to see Henry Morse stride in. At his side was Major Borden, the new commanding officer. He’d been nothing but rude and uncivil in his dealings with the Blacks around him, and how on earth he’d ever been assigned to a command in the United States Colored Troops was anyone’s guess. Sable had yet to hear a kind word from his lips. The army command had relegated his new unit to rebuilding roads and guarding railroads. Although Sable didn’t want to see his men thrust back into the war, she and everyone else wished him someplace else.

  As the two men wove their way among the cots, Sable had no doubt about whom they’d come to see. Avery’s warning had been a timely one. Morse’s triumphant eyes held her own, and Sable heard Mahti’s warning echo inside: He will be the jackal and you the antelope until his death.

  Major Borden stopped beside Sable and asked Morse, “Is she the one?”

  Morse smiled down at Sable. “Sure is, Major.”

  “Then she’s all yours. Last thing we need around here is a murderess.”

  Sable’s eyes widened. Murderess! A buzz went through the fifteen men in the ward.

  “Who is it I’ve supposedly murdered, Mr. Morse?”

  “Your daddy, Carson Fontaine, and I’m taking you back.”

  Sable shook her head. “No, you aren’t. I didn’t murder Carson Fontaine and you know it.”

  “We’ll let the authorities decide. Gather up your things and let’s go.”

  Sable didn’t move.

  Dr. Gaddis happened into the ward. He looked over at the two men grouped around Sable, saw the anger in her face, and asked, “What’s going on here?”

  Borden replied, “Just a contraband going back to be questioned about a murder.”

  Gaddis came closer. “Murder?” Wide-eyed, he looked first at Sable and then at Borden. “You must be joking. I don’t believe Miss Fontaine is capable of such an act.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Gaddis.”

  “Does he have a warrant for her arrest?” the doctor asked the major.

  “Nope, he don’t need one. I’m authorizing her transfer to the civilian authorities.”

  “Like hell you are,” snapped a new voice. Araminta marched over from her seat at a soldier’s bedside.

  Morse stared at her as if she were a plant that had suddenly spoken. “This is not your concern, Auntie. I’d advise you to stay out of the affairs of your betters.”

  Araminta blinked and snarled at the dark-eyed Morse, “My betters!”

  Some of the men in the ward began to voice their disapproval. The tension was palpable.

  Sable told Borden, “Why don’t we step outside, Major. The men are becoming upset.”

  He inclined his head and gestured for her to lead the way. Araminta and the doctor started forward also, but Borden said, “Doctor, don’t you have patients to see?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Then see to them.”

  The doctor appeared reluctant, but Borden snapped, “That’s an order!”

  Dr. Gaddis’s eyes brushed Sable’s before he strode away.

  Borden then turned to Araminta. “I already warned you once, Auntie. This doesn’t concern you. Now get!”

  “Oh, I’m going to get, all right,” she promised, her dark eyes flashing.

  Araminta strode angrily out the door.

  “Now, Mr. Morse,” Major Borden said, “you may take her, and good riddance.”

  “No, he may not.”

  Sable turned toward the familiar voice of Raimond LeVeq. Beside him stood an angry Andre Renaud and an even angrier Araminta.

  Borden looked over at the tall dark-skinned major and snapped, “Don’t you people understand English? This has nothing to do with you.”

  Raimond viewed his adversary coldly. “And you are…?”
r />   The shorter major drew himself up importantly. “Major Claude Borden. United States Army.”

  Raimond nodded in Morse’s direction. “And you?”

  “Henry Morse, her owner. And I have the papers to prove it.”

  Raimond didn’t even a glance at the sheaf of documents Morse waved in his hand. “This is Union territory, Mr. Morse. No one here is owned by anyone.”

  Borden stood slack-jawed. “What are you called, soldier boy?”

  “Major Raimond LeVeq. Contraband liaison. United States Army.”

  Borden’s eyes popped in their sockets.

  Raimond had dealt with men like Morse and Borden all his life, men who cared not a whit that he was educated, articulate, and could trace his family back from Haiti to the Moors of Spain. These were men who acted as if they’d been handed a document from God confirming their superiority based on the lack of color in their skin. Raimond took a perverse pleasure in cutting them down to size.

  “So,” Raimond said smoothly. “Now that we have established our identities, what seems to be the problem?”

  Sable thought Araminta looked more than pleased now that the red-faced Borden had been put in his place, but she was certain Morse hadn’t any idea whom he was up against.

  Borden answered Raimond’s question by saying arrogantly, “I’ve given Mr. Morse here permission to take that contraband back to be questioned by the local sheriff.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “She’s a murderess.”

  “That isn’t true, and Morse knows it.”

  Borden chuckled. “Of course she’s going to lie. Most jigs would, but it don’t matter, she’s going.”

  “By whose authority?”

  “Mine.”

  It became so still it seemed as if the world had suddenly stopped.

  “You have no authority here.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me, Major. This is my camp, and we do not return contrabands to their masters. Ever.”

  “That girl killed her own daddy,” Borden accused, turning a mean eye on Sable.

  “She says she didn’t.”

  “So it’s her word against his?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’d take her word against mine?” Morse demanded, amazed. “Since when is the word of a slave worth anything?”

  “Since the day I arrived at this camp, Mr. Morse.”

  Morse appeared outraged. Now he knew that Major LeVeq was unlike any Black man he’d ever encountered. He turned to Borden. “I can’t believe you’re going to allow this buck to have the final say. Is this how you Yankees run things?”

  “Yes, it is,” Raimond offered before Borden could reply. “Unless I receive a message from General Sherman himself, Miss Fontaine stays. And unless you have other legitimate business to discuss, Mr. Morse, I suggest you leave the grounds.”

  “This is not the end.”

  “Yes, it is. Lieutenant Renaud, please escort Mr. Morse off Union property.”

  Andre gestured forward with his rifle. Morse stopped before Sable and told her, “He can’t protect you forever.”

  Andre prodded him in the spine with the rifle to hurry his exit.

  After Morse’s departure, Major Borden turned to Raimond. “How dare you undermine my directives.”

  “This discussion is over, Major Borden. If you have a complaint, write to Washington.”

  He turned to the many soldiers who’d gathered in support of Sable and directed them back to whatever they’d been doing. They all complied, but they went away with proud smiles on their faces and a story they would tell their grandchildren about the brave Major LeVeq and how he’d saved Sable Fontaine from her former master.

  Chapter 6

  After the yard cleared and Borden stormed away, Sable walked over to the tall, bearded major. “Thank you. I’ve never had a champion before.”

  “Glad to be of service. Was there a murder?”

  Put so directly, the question made her wonder for a moment if he’d believed Morse’s claims. “Yes.”

  “Your father?”

  She nodded.

  “Were you involved?”

  “I was present, but I didn’t cause his death.”

  “If those two go to my superior officers, I want to be able to argue the truth so I’ll need to hear your side of the story.”

  “Then ask me to eat dinner with you.”

  Raimond’s face showed his surprise. “You’re asking to dine with me?”

  “I thought it might be nice to share your company and to tell you the story too. Is that too forward?”

  “No, no,” he reassured her. “I find it amazing, is all. I don’t have to beg or slay a dragon in exchange?”

  “You already have,” she replied softly. “And you were very timely.”

  “I was already on my way over to see you when I ran into Mrs. Tubman. She was very upset and said you needed help.”

  “And I did.”

  “Do you really wish to spend the evening with me?”

  “Why do you find that so hard to believe? I thought we had a wonderful time last night.”

  “I shall come for you at dusk.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  He bowed gracefully and was gone.

  Araminta, who’d been standing off to the side observing, walked over to Sable. “He’s going to be all you’ll ever need.”

  “For what?”

  “For life.”

  Sable turned and stared. “What do you mean?”

  “Just keep on living, Sable, and you’ll see.”

  As the day continued, none of the men in the ward mentioned the morning’s incident and Sable mentally thanked them for respecting her privacy.

  No one respected the afternoon’s lunch fare, however. On the tin plates handed out to the soldiers were portions of what the army called dessicated vegetables. The troops thought the word “desecrated” described the vegetable more accurately. The compressed, dried cakes of mixed vegetables were rationed to each soldier in a piece that weighed about an ounce. Once the little cake was soaked in water or wine, it swelled to an amazing size, revealing tasteless layers of cabbage, sliced carrot, turnips, an occasional onion, and any other vegetable the makers had found to include.

  Next to the desecrated vegetables were pieces of what the men called “embalmed” beef—their name for the tinned meat supplied to the Union by the meat-packing houses of Chicago. Sable decided she wasn’t hungry.

  She was quite hungry by the time dusk fell though. Araminta had taken a group of children out on an herb hunt and hadn’t returned, so Sable had the little tent to herself. She used the makehift shower behind the hospital to wash herself clean, then took a moment to run a comb and brush through her unruly dark hair. She refashioned the thick length into a knot on the nape of her neck and pinned it down. She didn’t have to spend any time debating her wardrobe; she possessed only two dresses, and both were bloodstained and old. The one she had on, a very washed out, navy-blue shirtwaist and skirt, also bore the dust and dirt of the day. She gave the skirts a shake, brushed off the shirtfront, and that was that. If the major wanted a perfumed woman in silk and satin, he’d have to wait until he returned to Louisiana.

  To her complete surprise, he rode up on the beautiful black stallion they’d shared on her first arrival in camp. “He’s truly a magnificent animal,” she said.

  “I’ve had him since he was a colt. Sable, meet Pegasus.”

  “Hello, Pegasus,” she said with a curtsy.

  The horse gave her a stately bow in return, and she laughed in surprise. “He’s trained?”

  “To ride into the jaws of death, if need be,” Raimond bragged, patting the animal’s powerful neck. “We are here to carry you off. Are you still willing?”

  “I am.”

  “Then let’s get you aboard.”

  He maneuvered the horse to her side, then reached down and lifted her effortlessly. She settled before him in the saddle. “Ve
ry gallant, Sir Knight.”

  “Only the best for my queen.”

  His whispered words and the glint in his dark eyes set her heart to pounding, making her confess unintentionally, “You’re very overwhelming, Major.”

  “So are you, Your Majesty, so turn around before I kiss you.”

  She dropped her head with a smile of embarrassment and did as she was told.

  The tender threat stayed with her as they rode through the camp under the watchful, knowing eyes of the residents. The sight of her riding away with the major would undoubtedly cause talk and speculation for weeks to come, but Sable wouldn’t worry about that, not now. Thinking about being kissed by him and the passion they’d shared in the treetops gave her more than enough to dwell upon.

  The pale light of the rising moon partially illuminated the landscape and the empty road ahead of them as they left the camp. Raimond’s solid presence behind her was potent, vital, and as impossible to ignore as the sheltering circle of his arms as he guided the reins. She felt as if they were lovers bound for a midnight tryst.

  They stopped a ways down the road before a burned-out mansion illuminated by torches stuck in the ground. The once grand house looked as if it had been brought down by cannon fire. The roof was gone, and the remaining outer walls stood ragged in the soft light. Raimond guided Pegasus up the weed-choked walk. As they approached, Sable saw two armed soldiers standing guard on the porch.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  “Our dining salon.”

  Skeptical, Sable looked around. “And the men?”

  “Security detail. There are renegade Rebs running loose in the area. They hit a camp south of here a few days ago. Reports have them heading north. The soldiers are here to keep an eye out.”

  “We could have eaten at camp, then.”

  “I know, but what would have been the fun in that?”