Southern Legacy: Completed Version Page 35

  The room suddenly felt very small. A core of fear shifted within her heart. The whole of her surroundings disappeared and all that remained was Wade, serious and subdued.

  He caught her arm and pulled her to him. “Even if that was a feasible option, which it isn’t, I would never allow that to happen.” His icy-blue eyes cut through her; his jaw tensed. “I made a vow to your papa. I will hold to it despite your feelings. I came back to Magnolia Bluff to tell you everything that had been arranged. I spent the whole of my days ensuring your safety and caring for your welfare. I would never…never allow you to be disgraced.”

  Rendered speechless by his intensity, she stared at him in confusion. She had the urge to run, but his grip on her arm tightened.

  “By God, you will listen to me!” he said in a caustic tone. “Andrew and his wife have been instructed to leave our house…our home in Charleston. I have made it clear she is not welcome. You have convicted me unjustly!”

  “Unjustly,” she murmured. “How else can I see what has happened? You left me here alone…alone!”

  “You were well looked after. There was no place safer for you than here at Magnolia Bluff.”

  “By whom? Servants and hired guards! Is this what you want from me? To remain as a prisoner, hidden from the world? Does it ease your conscience after taking all that once was mine?”

  “You are being absurd, Josephine.” His face flushed with anger, his eyes ablaze. “You need only to accept what has happened. It is yours as it is mine. You are now my wife…my wife. You need to trust me.”

  “Trust you, a drunken fool!”

  His frown was fierce. “My poor Josephine. The quandary you have been left with me as your husband.”

  Slowly, his hand caressed her face. She stiffened with the contact, wary of the intent she saw in his eyes as his gaze fell down upon the curve of her breasts. “You look beautiful. I have never seen your hair down,” he murmured huskily as his hand tangled in her thick, long hair. “I ache for you. It is well that we are married.”

  “Married?” Her ill-concealed ire spewed out of her mouth. “This is what you call a marriage? An agreement so you can claim Magnolia Bluff. Have you forgotten why I married you?”

  “It is never far from my mind.” Clearly agitated, a savage curse escaped his lips. “My damn cousin. Nor will I forget what you gave him so freely…what is mine.” His voice faded into the night as his mouth covered hers.

  She felt his anger at her and Cullen in his kiss. She tasted the whiskey on his lips, but beneath her bosom, her heart pounded wildly as she found herself caught up in his touch. The kiss deepened as a tense awakening arose in her, astonished that her own anger seemed to fuel his.

  He broke free from her lips and his gaze drifted over her, thoroughly. “You are enough to drive a man insane,” he breathed. “You were made to love.”

  “You talk nonsense.” She pushed back against his chest, but his strength held her firm. Jo looked up defiantly and declared with venom, “I hate you!”

  “Hate me all you wish, my love. It changes nothing. I am your husband, with wants and needs.” His expression hardened. Tension sparked. “Do you think I have ever stopped loving you?” With his hand clamped behind the nape of her neck, he brought her lips back to his.

  Her world spun as he embraced her with another savage kiss. The hurt and pain she had so long held within her exploded. Jo struggled for air when his lips released hers.

  Cullen was an all too vivid memory. He had left her…he was gone…gone…and she was so angry at him…at herself…at Wade. She didn’t want to hurt anymore. She needed to draw away from him. Instead, her arms slipped up around his neck and pulled him even closer. Jo kissed him back.

  Fast and hard, Wade’s kisses came to satiate the greedy hunger that vibrated through Jo’s body. His mouth took possession of hers. Unbridled passion burst through the anger and demanded gratification. His lips moved down her neck. Her breasts tingled with a maddening desire to be devoured. There was no pretense to where this would lead.

  Somewhere in the frenzy, he shed his shirt and pants and wasted no time disposing of her gown. His long, sleek fingers untied the ribbon around her neck and slid the thin robe down her thighs. He paused only a moment when he cast it aside and sat on the bed to pull off his boots.

  In the candlelight, she gazed upon his naked body. Lord, he was so handsome with his broad shoulders and muscular frame. He returned her look with a frank gaze of his own that made the whole of her body tremble, but he was too far away. She had time to think and she didn’t want to think. She wanted him close, touching her…making her forget everything but this moment. He complied.

  Her breath shortened as he drew her back into his arms and laid her down on the bed. Kneeling on the mattress, he straddled her body and pinned her beneath him. He unsettled her…she was at his mercy, but he had no mercy to give.

  His hot, pressing kisses told he was bent on only one thought—her complete and total surrender. A reawakened vitality emerged; her body came alive with his touch. Her breasts grew heavy and full. Her nipples hardened more, sensitive to his caress…his kisses as he used his teeth and lips to tease and taunt them.

  Her world spun. The power he held over her strangely excited her. Sensations cascaded throughout her body, leaving her breathless. He kissed her mouth and rubbed his body against her. She felt the hard ridge of his arousal. Impatient, she arched up to him.

  He wasted no more time. He parted her legs and his fingers pushed deep into her. She clutched her hand on his shoulders; her hips pushed at him. Wild and frantic, she submitted to the intimate caresses that brought her to the edge of rapture.

  She needed more. She needed him to take her now…The whole of her body was about to explode…and then suddenly he paused.

  In the dark, she looked up at him. In the shadowed intimacy, the world beyond the door did not exist, obscured into the darkness. He caressed down her body, reminding her she was under his control.

  Roughly, he gripped her arms and lifted them over her head.

  “Stay still.”

  It was an order that would not be disobeyed. He had a power over her that frightened her. She whispered, “Please, don’t hurt me.”

  “I would never hurt you, my love,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m about to make you purr like a kitten.”

  His voice calmed her fear… He bent over and began to kiss every inch of her naked skin. His lips crossed over her lips, downward along her creamy white neck to the swell of her bare breasts, where he paused, suckling until new sensations emerged…more intense…more powerful.

  Tremors palpitated through her as he continued his journey, kissing her skin down along her flat stomach, over to one thigh and then the other. He slid his hands under her, cupped her bottom and slid her forward. He kissed her at the pulse of her desire. A primitive ferocity overwhelmed her, overriding any objections she had to utter at such boldness. Shocked, never had she imagined such an act.

  She should have recoiled at his wicked behavior, but she could not break the spell she was under while he did unspeakable things. His tongue flicked over the core of her pleasure. Powerful sensations possessed her…madness overcame her.

  Mindless of anything but the want within her, cries escaped…the sound of her complete surrender. He moved over her and entered, filling her throbbing need. Passion saturated her body as he thrust into her, harder and harder, dominating…commanding her on every reentry.

  Their bodies strained and cleaved together until her world shattered into a million pleasurable sensations. It seemed to last an eternity…waves of ecstasy, one after another, surged through her until she climaxed into mindless release.

  Wade collapsed on top of her; the sweat from their bodies glistened in the afterglow of their lovemaking. A moment later, he rolled off and fell back on the pillow, smiling broadly.

  Slowly, the aftermath of her climax tremored through Jo. As she regained a semblance of reason, she scooted over to t
he far side of the bed. Catching her breath, the reality of what she had done suffused through her. She glanced over at the man in her bed.

  She had meant every word that spewed out of her mouth at Wade when she said she had no desire to be touched by another man. Even then, she had known it was a ridiculous assertion. Wade was her husband. But she had not meant for this to happen…not yet.

  His eyes caught hers and reflected the physical intimacy they had shared. He reached for her hand and kissed it.

  “Lord, woman.”

  Words caught in her throat, unsure of what to say. She felt exposed and vulnerable. When she reached for her gown haphazardly thrown across the foot of the bed, he grasped hold of her hand and halted her progress.

  “Oh, hon, I don’t think so,” he chided her with a twinkle in his eye. “We aren’t done yet.”

  When Jo awoke the next morning, Wade was gone. He had left only a note that stated he had urgent business in Charleston. Interestingly enough, he had placed correspondences from Grace Ann on her bureau that contained an invitation to visit her in Camden. It seemed Wade had even accepted the offer and expected her to leave within the week.

  Jo read through the invitation while memories of the night lingered…memories she would not soon forget. Whatever problems they had between them, it did not extend into their bed. He had taken her at his will and left no doubt that she was his and only his.

  With the greatest reluctance, her gaze pulled away from the tumbled bed linens and she readied for the day. No, she thought, staring at herself in the mirror, it was good he was gone. She needed time to heal…not only from the bruises on her body, but from the conscience that gnawed at her soul.

  Guilt suffused through her. She wondered how she could feel shame lying with Wade. He was her husband. Her lover—the man whose face haunted her dreams, Cullen—had deserted her.

  Chapter Four

  The Whitney family had been in the state a long time and had a quite distinguished pedigree. Unlike the Buchanans and Montgomerys, their fortune had increased tenfold over the last decade. Theodore Whitney’s wealth stretched over three states, six plantations and owned over eight hundred slaves.

  Whitney Hall was the personification of the Whitney family’s wealth and prestige. Situated outside of Camden, the two-story wooden house built on brick pillars was massive. It had black shutters with a green shingled roof, along with a double-deck porch. Climbing ivy covered the white pillars where French windows opened to the porch.

  The large porch allowed for a line of rocking chairs and small tables for family and guests to enjoy the late afternoon view of the grounds. The finely manicured lawn was scattered with large live oaks and magnolia trees. On this day, the fragrance of crabapple trees, yellow Jessamine, and Cherokee rose embraced the air.

  Josephine looked over the scene and sipped lemonade. She had been given a warm welcome when she arrived a few days back.

  “I swear it is all they ever talk about…secession.” Grace Ann sighed heavily and glanced across the porch at the men who talked in a circle about the growing unrest.

  “Wade believes it will depend upon the upcoming election later this year,” Jo said absently. At least, it was what Wade had written to her in his last letter. Elections and politics filled his pages…how his presence was needed in Charleston for one meeting or another.

  In her mind, the letters held nothing more than useless excuses. She shook off her melancholy at the thought of her husband and looked over at her cousin. It had done her good to visit with Grace Ann.

  Grace Ann looked as lovely as ever, dressed in a flattering blue day gown. Her blonde hair glistened in the sunlight, pulled up in a decorative hairnet constructed of gold-thread mesh and cream-colored silk ribbons.

  The two sat with the other married women at Whitney Hall, the wives of Theodore’s sons. Sarah and Peggy were quiet, but hospitable, though neither compared to Grace Ann in their appearance. Moreover, both were older with a brood of children of their own.

  Jo had never questioned her cousin’s decision to marry Mr. Whitney, but she had wondered. Theodore Whitney was a distinguished man of fifty-eight. Handsome for a man of his age, Jo supposed. His hair was streaked with gray; his eyes were strong, vital. A man of medium height, but carried himself tall and walked with a brisk purpose. But there was over a thirty-year span between their ages.

  Grace Ann had her pick of eligible bachelors in Charleston and she had settled upon Theodore Whitney. It had been a surprising choice to Jo, but Grace Ann seemed quite content with her marriage. Never had she given any indication to Jo of dissatisfaction with the union.

  Louis and Peter were sons from Theodore’s second wife. He had three daughters from his first. They, too, often made appearances at Whitney Hall with their own families. In total, Theodore Whitney had five children and twenty-one grandchildren.

  At the moment, Jo watched quite a few of them running around on the lawn, playing alongside of the slave children. Laughter and giggles echoed around the grounds until one of the youngest Whitney children fell. A cry burst forth.

  “Elijah Whitney, do not play rough with your sister,” Sarah demanded and scooted back her chair. Shortly, she was down on the lawn, looking at a skinned knee of her daughter.

  Jo smiled at the scene when the small girl seemed all better when her momma kissed her scratch. The other children had already run off, but one stayed behind, a small slave boy.

  He was dressed in a loose, dirty white shirt and wore no shoes. A wide smile crossed his face as he waited for the return of his playmate. Jo took another look. She swore the child looked white.

  “Grace Ann,” Jo whispered behind Peggy’s back. “That child looks…”

  Ensuring she would not be overheard, Grace Ann glanced over her shoulder and leaned over to Jo before she answered. “It is Louis, if you must know,” she said in a low voice. “Mr. Whitney has reprimanded him numerous times. Louis has shown only arrogance and takes whatever slave whore he chooses. Shameful. He doesn’t even acknowledge them. Sarah has no choice but to turn a blind eye.”

  Peggy looked oddly at the two. Jo inclined back and gave her a small smile. Covering the whispers, Jo turned the conversation. “I was inquiring of my cousin if she had knowledge of any of my relations in Camden. While I am here, I thought I would reach out to them. Do you know of them…the Wrights?”

  “You want to visit the Wrights?” Peggy questioned.

  “They are my family,” Jo answered, but quickly concluded that Peggy did not believe it would be appropriate. Making light of the situation, she went on, “I traveled many places with Papa. London. New Orleans. New York. But, I fear, Papa never brought me to his home. Even while I stayed with Grandpa Henry, I never traveled to Camden. So I have never made the acquaintances of Papa’s family.”

  “Of course, you shall.”

  Surprised by his interruption, Jo watched Theodore Whitney rise and cross over the porch. She asked him, “You will take me?”

  “In time,” Whitney replied. “First, allow me to take you to your papa’s grave. Say, tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I would like that very much.” She had wanted to visit Papa’s grave the moment she had arrived. It would be good to go with someone who shared her grief and something told her that Whitney had been touched by her papa’s death. “I will wait most patiently.”

  * * * *

  A spectacular sunset loomed over the grand oak trees and cast a reddish tinge over the pond. The small graveyard nestled along the hillside within a black wrought-iron fence, a quiet, peaceful place. It had served as the final resting place for the Whitney family for over a century.

  Josephine knelt beside her papa’s grave. It sat to the far corner, away from the immediate family…unmarked and alone. Whitney had assured her that the marker would be engraved and placed on Papa’s grave before the end of her visit.

  She supposed it was strange that she had never been to her papa’s birthplace, but he had not even talked of his ho
me or invited questions about his childhood. What she had discovered had come from Miss Hazel, which had not been much.

  Her grandparents, Lucas and TaeLynn Wright, had come from humble backgrounds and lived on a small farm in Camden. It was rumored that Lucas Wright had risked his own life to saved Whitney from drowning. Whitney then swore he was in debt to Wright and held to it by seeing to Wright’s son after his father’s death.

  Jo had always believed it had been the glimpse of the life Whitney lived that had been the motivation for Papa to succeed. Fueled by being an outcast in the world he wanted so desperately to be a part of despite his wealth and marriage, his hopes had fallen upon her, his only child.

  She laid a black wreath down on the solemn spot and whispered a fervent prayer, a final farewell. She hoped now her papa had found the peace he had not found in this world.

  Behind her, she heard Whitney move to her side. For a time, he said nothing. In this light, he looked older. Tense lines formed around his eyes; his shoulders drooped slightly. An aura of sadness surrounded him.

  “It is a tragedy that your father could not have seen you married to Wade and are now the mistress of Magnolia Bluff,” he said. “If you had any doubt, know that it was his wish.”

  Emotions swelled, but words caught in her throat. The last month, her world had collapsed around her. She had been left confused and bewildered with little to cling to…she had strived so hard to please her papa. The knowledge that Wade had not lied to her gave her a semblance of strength.

  Jo sighed. “Thank you for your kindness. I know Papa came to depend upon you. He must have admired you greatly because I can’t ever remember Papa relying on anyone the way he did you.”

  “Over the last year, we formed a strong bond,” Whitney conceded. “It is that bond that I wanted to address with you.”

  “Mr. Whitney.” She looked up at him. “I know he was grateful for the opportunity you gave him as a child…”

  “Was he?” Whitney scoffed. “I provided for him, gave him shelter, offered him an education. It was he who grasped the opportunity. I did little else. I barely noticed him when he was here at Whitney Hall.”