Southern Legacy: Completed Version Page 12

  She laughed. “You aren’t serious? Please tell, why you would ever think such a thing?”

  “’Cause that nigger wench is his mother…’cause something stinks about the whole thing.” His voice had a cold edge. Jo’s heart churned at the unfeeling man…the man who inflicted the suffering upon another human being.

  “You’re a funny man, Mr. Miller. You sounding so nasty and all.” She glanced over at Buck, whose finger lay on the trigger of his pistol. His eyes bore into the man. Her cousin sensed the same as she: the man was on the edge. “Here I was thinking when you rode up, that my little old prayer had been answered.”

  “Like most women, ya ain’t makin’ no sense,” he quipped.

  Her fear became overwhelming when she looked into his eyes. Fear was replaced only with an emerging anger as comprehension sank deep within her…he had come to destroy not only Heyward, but everything attached to his slave. She would not allow that to happen…ever.

  “I want your runaway,” Jo told him. “I will pay you for him whatever you have been out…perhaps I should say, Grandpa Henry will pay. I know he will.”

  “You must think me a fool.”

  “Would it not ease your frustration?”

  “That nigger deserves what is coming his way. The penalties are known to all.”

  “Oh, come, Mr. Miller. Let us lay our cards on the table. You know well Miss Hazel was my mammy and my papa set her up here. It is why I’m here today—because she called for me. It’s his property you threaten. When he returns—which will be soon enough—he is going to be angry if Miss Hazel is upset and all.

  “Already his ire boils at the Montgomerys. A while back, Papa tried to buy Heyward and had been refused. Now with the whispers about me…and a Montgomery…then they up and sell him to you,” she sucked in air and continued, “I believe it’s you who has a choice to make.”

  His eyebrow rose. “That would be?”

  “Sell Heyward to me—or keep him and then answer to Papa. You know Papa, don’t you, Mr. Miller? His reputation is well earned. He may not run you through with a sword, but he will ruin you…you know he will.”

  Miller ran his hand over his bristled face. With a grave nod, he shrugged. “Got no quarrel against your papa nor he with me. He knows our laws.”

  “I’m sure he does,” she agreed. She met his eyes. “I’m sure he will be quite understanding, Mr. Miller, Papa being who he is. You go ahead and have this slave die by your hands. You do what you believe is best and hold to the fact that you have the law behind you. All I will ask—don’t sell him back to the Montgomerys.”

  She saw a flicker in his eyes.

  Behind her, a voice called. “Found him, Miller. Just got word. He made it back to Magnolia Bluff.”

  “Mount up,” Miller commanded. He said nothing more.

  Josephine watched the group ride off. Buck never took his finger off his pistol. The immediate danger dissipated, but there would be no rest.

  Jo couldn’t deny that hope rose inside her. Miller wanted no trouble from her papa, but, there was no mistake that he wanted to humiliate her for her refusal of him…hurt her. She had just given him a way to do so. She only prayed he took it.

  * * * *

  Cullen rode back to Miss Hazel’s. The day hastened to dusk. Above him, drab skies gave promise of a dark night. There would be no moonlight to light a journey after the sunset. After this day, he doubted many decent folk would be making their way about until morning.

  It was over, but the fever pitch of the escape would not simply vanish. Tempers had run high. That damn patrol had wanted blood…wanted to have seen Heyward strung up. Their appetite had not been satisfied…at least not on this day.

  His heart caught in his throat when Miller rode up and stated he had left Josephine back at Miss Hazel’s cabin. A million thoughts ran rampant in his head…one he had not— Miller calling for him after ascertaining Heyward’s condition.

  “God Amighty, where is that smart-ass fucking Yankee!”

  Soon after, the threat had been averted. Heyward would remain at Magnolia Bluff, at least until he recovered…if he recovered. The slave had been badly tortured; his wounds extensive. He lay in the sick house. When Cullen departed, his aunt had been tending to his injuries.

  Behind him, a carriage rolled down the road, set to take Josephine back to Magnolia Bluff. It had been deemed the safest place. Charlotte had wanted to come to retrieve her friend, but had been denied permission. She would see her friend soon enough.

  The muddy road made for a slow pace. Deep in the woods, he heard the sounds of life emerging after a storm: chickadees sang, crickets chirped. He prayed that Buck had seen to Josephine’s safety.

  As he rounded the bend, Cullen caught sight of Buck on the porch, gun in hand. He gestured to Cullen.

  Relief flooded him. One worry averted; now, his attention to the other battle he was assured was about to take place.

  * * * *

  “I’m not going.”

  “It isn’t a choice.” Cullen spoke the command. Annoyance etched into her face told she would ignore his warning. “Why won’t you listen to me?”

  “I have heard every word you have spoken,” she started. Anger was there in her voice. “I want only to go home.”

  “I don’t understand, Josephine. I thought you would be pleased.”

  “Pleased?” She shook her head. “Relieved, but not pleased.”

  He watched her in wonder. She had no reaction when he told her that Heyward had been spared. Instead, she had comforted Miss Hazel. Overwhelmed, the old woman collapsed on the floor. Jo’s companion had been of no use, for she herself wept in the corner.

  Jo untied her horse and walked it out of the stall. She gasped as he caught her hand when she went to tighten the strap of the saddle. The stubborn woman! He forced her to look at him.

  “Do you not want to see for yourself Heyward is safe?”

  “Safe? Is he? Truly?” Her voice quivered; she lowered her gaze. “Miss Hazel and Gillie are set to go in the carriage. I hope you will not refuse to transport them. They have a strong need to see Heyward. I have given Gillie permission to stay as long as she deems necessary.”

  She drew in a breath as if she had the weight of the world upon her shoulders. “I have much to do. Grandpa Henry, I fear, will be disappointed once more with my actions, but I will need to smooth out today’s events to gather his permission for Heyward’s presence. I fear—”

  “You want to take him to the Groves?”

  She looked back up at him and nodded. “But of course. I will take responsibility for him.”

  She did not appear nearly as angry as he first thought. More thoughtful than annoyed.

  “Jo, do you understand what transpired?”

  “Miller sold Heyward to you. For that I am grateful. Truly I am. It is only now…” A sudden tide of conflicting emotions seemed to rage within her. She reached over and touched his hand that held her arm, warm and tender. “Now, I will have to face my disgrace. You do not have to tell me that my dowry is no more. I have had to contemplate the circumstances. Miller would have wanted to have been well compensated.”

  She did not have to say few men would want to wed her now. He understood she had clung to the hope that the semblance of a dowry her father had left her would suffice to save her reputation and an honorable marriage.

  She had sacrificed it all for the life of a slave. Few would give her accolades for the action. Moreover, it would be held in contempt by those who held to the stiff, unforgiving rules of Charleston society…the same rules that dismissed another human’s worth simply by the color of their skin.

  Josephine understood the consequences. She had lived her life under the shadow of scandal. It was the only world she had lived…a world she loved despite everything. It ripped at the core of her being…just as it had his.

  “Let us talk. Give me but a moment to see to the others.”

  * * * *

  They stood on the porch
and watched the carriage disappear around the bend. He had done as she requested: first sending Buck along his way and then Miss Hazel and Gillie to see their loved one.

  Foolish. For now, Josephine was alone with him, compromised once more and vulnerable. He looked over at her and a memory flashed vividly in his mind, of holding her in his arms and tasting her lips. It was decidedly difficult not to take her in his arms again.

  She moved back a step. “I need to leave myself. So tell me quickly what it is you want to say. It will be dark before I get back to the Groves.”

  He held back on his instinct to refute her intention of riding alone back to her home. He had intended to make it quick, not to linger. She had an effect upon him that no other woman had ever had. Her mere presence distracted him.

  “I did not use your money. As I told you, I have kept it safe for you.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “You told me that you bought Heyward. That he was no longer a slave under Miller.”

  “I did not lie. I bought Heyward, Josephine. I bought him with my money, not yours. Miller wanted assurance that Heyward would no longer be in South Carolina. He did not want a reminder that a runaway slave evaded his punishment.”

  “You are going to take him North?”

  “It is what I have planned. Prepare yourself, though; he is greatly injured.”

  “I know only too well.” Her voice faltered. “Your compassion overwhelms me.”

  “There is one thing more. I freed him. Heyward is now a free man. He will have to accompany me up North and his freedom will not be widely known. There is no need to rile Miller back up in arms. Heyward will have a position in my household if he wants.”

  She reached for his arm and halted his words. “You freed him?” she gasped. “Why did you do so? The money you are out…all for…”

  “For you.”

  Time stilled. He pulled her to him, no longer resisting his repressed need for the woman. Nothing mattered in that moment, only his intense desire for her…for Josephine. She moved closer, allowed him to press her body to his. The need was not his alone.

  Behind her, the sun lowered on the horizon, tinged the sky a brilliant red, and highlighted her beautiful face. Her hair, once held up in a bun, had loosened, feathering against her pale skin; her eyes softened.

  Lovely…simply lovely.

  Lowering his head, he inhaled her being. Her breath quickened with the beat of her heart as he leaned down his lips to hers and touched them softly. He felt her tremble beneath his kiss.

  Her lips lingered a moment, long enough to tell him everything he wanted to know. She wanted what he offered…he had no need to ask permission or to be afraid of her refusal.

  Her hands clutched his coat’s lapel. She opened them, pressing against his chest, but not in resistance. She had surrendered to his desire.

  He pressed her back through the door, kicking it with the back of his boot, and slammed it shut. They would not be disturbed. He laid her down on the bed, the one only hours before held a runaway slave. Remnants of the man stripped away, it held only a bare mattress that sank with their weight.

  He cupped the nape of her neck so she could accept his kisses. He seduced her mouth open. His need drove him to taste, explore and possess the woman, while her gasps and breath spoke of her own passion.

  In his grasp, her body molded to his. He grew bolder. He touched the buttons to her jacket…buttons never meant to be touched by a male’s hand, undone to expose the swell of her breasts. Her hand went to his to halt his intent.

  “I can’t,” she whispered.

  His gazed locked on hers. He could not allow that…not now. He was in a situation in which he had lost his control.

  “My sweet magnolia, are you going to deny us what is inevitable? It has been this way since I first lay eyes upon you. You are mine and no other’s.” He breathed the declaration against her mouth.

  His mouth crushed against hers, giving her no time to answer, only respond to his kiss. She melted with his touch, and then circled his neck with her arms. With abandon, he ravished her mouth. Never had he been so completely besotted.

  He finished unbuttoning the last button. He paused a moment only to see if she would stop his intent. She did not. Instead, she leaned up and took off the confining material. She looked back up at him; her corset barely covered her breasts. She reached for him.

  Images of her naked body compelled him. He wanted so much to bury himself inside her. Somewhere…something deep within him…urged him caution. She was a virgin. A gentleman would never take advantage of her…but he simply could not contain his desire.

  The feel of her body against his compelled him…the taste of her lips, her gasps of first known pleasure…the promise of wanton passion. He kissed her while his hands loosened the corset and pushed it down far enough to free her breasts. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. His lips moved down her slender throat.

  He had never made love to a virgin, but her body moved beneath him in a gentle arch that maddened him. Any nervousness she felt faded, replaced with an eagerness that astonished him…sent him over the edge from seduction to sheer madness.

  His gaze fell upon her full, round breasts that beckoned him. He cupped her firm breast and caressed. Her nipples hardened against the gentle kneading. He watched her as his fingers circled the tip, touched lightly, teasing her ever so gently. The barest smile emerged told of her pleasure.

  He lowered his head and used his tongue ever so wickedly to madden her. He heard her breath quicken…as he slid his hand down under her skirt… under her pantalets.

  Wicked sensations cascaded through her body, pulsated, titillated every inch of her sensitized skin. All of her was alive. The stunning shock of his breath against her breast—suckling one, and then the other—left her craving pleasure her body sensed his touch promised.

  The hurt and pain of the day’s event seemed distant. It had no place in this moment. He pushed back every thought she had except one…this aching need that had enveloped her. She was not ignorant. This was wrong…so wrong…but she had passed the point of caring.

  She could not stop her body’s response to his caress and found she had no energy or want to do so. Desire crashed through her wall of conscience. Her need held no reason, only longing.

  He looked up at her. His eyes told her he was fully aware of her awakening passion. He watched her as his hand slid down her stomach and gently nudged her legs apart.

  “Do not be afraid. Trust me, Josephine,” he whispered. “I want only to love you.”

  She had no voice, but nodded. She was nearly mindless, wanting only to be in his arms, ready to beg him to continue. He responded, gliding her along this journey of discovery.

  Once more, his mouth found her breast, suckling until she was mad with want. His hand caressed her thighs and moved to where it covered her mound. His fingers touched her and stroked her being, prolonging each deliberate stroke. Deep warmth flowed within her, stunning her.

  Suddenly the sensations within her grew to a point of alarm, as if she balanced on the edge of an abyss…falling into the unknown. Somewhere in the far reaches of her mind, she heard herself call out his name.

  Lost in this world, she surrendered to his command. Then abruptly he stopped.

  Jo opened her eyes to find he stared down at her. She grasped his arm, looked down at her naked breasts…shocked by her loss of control.

  He gave her a small smile.

  “Oh, my!”

  Reality suffused through her of what had occurred. As if only realizing she lay exposed to his view, she wrapped her jacket over her breasts. Her face flamed.

  “Do not be embarrassed. As much as I wanted to take it further…as difficult as it was to give pause, I did so. We will have time enough.”

  “Time enough?”

  “My darling Josephine, you think now I will simply let you go? I have come to the conclusion we are fated to be together.” He leaned over and kissed her lips lightly. “I wil
l not fight fate. I want you to revel in our love, not to regret an impulse.”

  Slowly, he eased off the bed. She gazed at him as he walked toward the door. Fully aware of what had happened, she blushed hotly.

  He paused and looked back at her.

  “I will leave you to your privacy for a moment. When you are ready, we will talk.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sweat streamed down Wade’s back. Good God! It was so damn humid and hot. The small cabin, which served as the sick house of the slaves on Magnolia Bluff, had only one tiny window.

  “Get some boys in here to fan him,” Wade commanded and wiped his mouth with his hand. He had half a mind to send for Andrew. He was still in Charleston.

  His anger mounted at the sight before him. It hadn’t been a good day. He would have liked nothing better than to have run through Holt Miller for what he had done to Heyward. Lord have mercy!

  Not one of the slaves at Magnolia Bluff had a scarred back. To see this…the whole of Heyward’s back torn up—it was enough to make him vomit. Miller could have easily killed the man.

  His anger was not only directed at Miller. His grandfather held his wrath along with… Clarissa, his bride.

  His mother had instructed Old Olivia, the healing woman, to stay by Heyward throughout the night. Old Olivia sat there now and sporadically washed the wounds gently with a wet cloth. Heyward unconsciously grimaced in pain.

  Wade had been prepared to negotiate with Miller for Heyward. If necessary, take the exchange to court. It had not been necessary. The man had one objective when he had been shown Heyward stretched out naked on a cot in the sick house.

  Miller had been satisfied that there had been no aid given the slave to help in his escape. After Miller concluded that Heyward had come back to Magnolia Bluff to seek asylum and beg to be taken back, he wanted only to make a deal with Cullen.

  While Cullen sat in negotiations with Miller, Wade had prepared for the worst, even to the point of arming some of his most trusted slaves. He was not about to let Miller get his hands on Heyward again. Surprisingly, his grandfather made no objections and toted his pistol in his belt under his waistcoat.