Beverly Jenkins (8 page)

Sophie’s call from the porch broke the spell, and Cara backed away, hoping the darkness of the night would mask her trembling unease.

Chase smiled, and reluctantly let her go. His gaze followed her as she moved quickly to the house and then inside. Patience, he reminded himself. Patience.

A
s usual, Virginia Sutton was the most elegantly dressed woman in the room. Her son, Miles, born to her at an early age, was not yet twenty and she was still a stunning woman at thirty-five. Her gown, low-cut and created out of gold borcade with satin trim, displayed her curvaceous figure to best advantage. Any other woman would have have looked overdressed in this room full of women clad in mostly homespun and gingham, but not Virginia. The jewelry and fancy gown declared her position and prestige in the town she all but owned, and she wore her expensive finery with dash and without guilt.

The atmosphere was more subdued than at Sophie’s gathering, undoubtedly because no one wanted to break any of the imported treasures or spill anything on the fine Spanish rugs in Virginia’s magnificent home. Everyone was on his best behavior.

Still, people seemed to be having a good time, Cara saw as she looked around. The food was plentiful, the music lively, and Virginia’s fabled liquor flowed freely.

Cara tensed as she spotted Virginia making her way through the crowd in her direction. Although Virginia stopped here and there to chat and smile
with the most distinguished of her guests, her gaze was riveted on Chase. Cara turned away, hoping the woman would look for prey elsewhere, but knew there was little chance. There wasn’t a man in the room who could match Chase. Every female had turned his way when he’d entered. The snug-fitting uniform showed the power in his tall, trim body and the mustache perched so spicily above the glorious-looking mouth made him all the more dazzling. Virginia would want him, and Virginia always got what she wanted.

“Cara,” Sophie said, “you take care of Chase for a few minutes. I need to speak to Sybil over there. I’ll find you later.”

Sophie moved away quickly.

Take care of Chase, Cara thought. She looked up at him and found him smiling down at her.

“Well?” he said. “You heard what the lady said.”

But before Cara could respond, the voice of the Black Widow sounded at her back. “Ah, Miss Henson, and who is this handsome man?”

Cara turned to Virginia and made the introductions.

“Pleasure, ma’ am,” she heard Chase say.

“No, Sergeant Jefferson, the pleasure’s all mine . . . You know, I was a bit skeptical about having this soirée. You and your men are very famous but I had visions of trampled rugs and broken crystal. I’m glad to see I was wrong. Your men are quite well-mannered and, in fact a few are most handsome. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Henson?”

“Yes, the men are well-mannered, very clean.”

Virginia laughed softly. “Ah, Miss Henson, you would concentrate on their manners. Sergeant, our Miss Henson is a most competent educator, but
I’m certain she wouldn’t know what to do with a handsome man if he fell facefirst into her . . . lap.”

Cara’s eyes blazed, but she held her tongue.

“Come dance with me, Sergeant,” Virginia invited.

Chase heard the velvet-sheathed order, but since he took orders only from the United States Army, he said, “I’d like that, but I promised the first dance to Miss Henson.”

Cara could have kissed him. But she forced herself to recall that after he was gone, Virginia would still be there. She decided it was best to be gracious. “I don’t mind, Sergeant. Besides, I’m not much of a dancer. You go ahead. We can dance later or another time.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I’m going to get some punch.”

“Excellent idea, Miss Henson,” Virginia said.

“Well, don’t go far, Miss Henson,” Chase cautioned in a voice that made her heart start doing those crazy flip-flops again. “Wouldn’t want to lose you in this crowd.”

“I won’t get lost,” Cara replied and went off to find the punch table.

From across the room, Cara watched Chase and Virginia dance to the slow sweet strains of a Spanish guitar. Virginia’s smile was her dazzling best. It was easy for Cara to see why so many people considered the Black Widow one of the loveliest women in all of Graham County. Few women possessed such flawless golden skin, such big sherry-colored eyes as she or such hair the color of dark wine. No wonder that few men could resist her beauty, Cara thought. As much as she disliked Virginia, she realized that the older woman knew much more about handling a man like Chase than she ever would.

Not wishing to watch them together for another moment, Cara stepped back into the crowd, then made her way to the back door. Sophie’s gently restraining hand suddenly stopped her.

“Have you seen Chase, dear?”

“He’s dancing with Virginia.”

“Is that why you’re running off?”

“I’m not running. I—I need some fresh air.”

“Ah, I see,” Sophie said, then added, “don’t let that woman run you out of here.”

“This has nothing to do with Virginia. It’s warm in here is all.”

They both knew it was a lie, but Sophie let it go.

Near the back door, Cara passed Miles Sutton, leaning against a wall with a drink in his hand. He leered and toasted her with the glass. She ignored him.

Once outside, pulling in deep lungfuls of the cool night air, Cara felt much better. From her spot on the long wide porch, she saw others who’d come out to escape the crush inside. Under the lights of the moon and of lanterns stuck on poles, several men were pitching horseshoes, laughing, talking, and passing jugs.

“Well, hello, Miss Cara.”

She turned to see the sheriff stepping up onto the porch and nodded at him. “Sheriff.”

“What are you doing out here all alone?” he asked with a smile. “Young, pretty woman like yourself should be in the middle of all that dancing in there.”

The music had changed. Lively strains of fiddle music were drifting out to them now. When Cara did not reply, his voice became tinged with concern. “You feeling poorly, Miss Cara?”

“I’m fine, Sheriff Polk. Just came out to get some air.”

There was a shared silence, then he said, “I went ahead and talked to Jefferson. Hope that was all right?”

“I appreciate your concern, Sheriff. But I do believe Virginia is going to fix my troubles with the sergeant.”

“Virginia?”

“Yep. Take a look inside.”

He turned to the window behind them, and Cara knew that even with all the people in the way, the laughing widow and the handsome soldier wouldn’t be hard to spot.

“Oh,” the sheriff uttered in understanding.

“Yes, oh,” Cara echoed, looking out into the night. “If you had a daughter, Sheriff, what would you tell her about a man like Chase Jefferson?”

“Well, I’d tell her that he’s a fine man, but probably not for her. He’s a soldier, and many of them don’t like putting down roots. But I’d also tell her to look in her heart. It is, after all, her life.”

For a moment she mused on his words, then said, “That’s sound advice, Sheriff.”

The sheriff smiled wryly and ambled off, leaving Cara alone with the night and her thoughts.

Chase excused himself from Virginia’s side as quickly as politeness allowed. She was indeed a very beautiful woman and he hadn’t missed her slyly couched hints about her availability. In the days before meeting Cara, more than likely he would have taken Virginia up on her offer, but the whole time he was dancing he’d had no other woman on his mind than the schoolteacher.

He’d witnessed her exit and the tightness in her small face when he’d led Virginia out onto the dance floor. Where had she gone? he wondered.

* * *

Cara didn’t even have to turn to know he stood behind her. She could feel his presence like the stroke of the night breeze against her cheeks. “Is Sophie ready to leave? She said she didn’t plan to stay long.”

“Almost.”

“So, what do you think of the Widow Sutton?” Cara asked softly.

“I expected her to be older.”

After a long silence Cara said, “She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is, but then so are you.”

Cara turned to him then. “Even if it isn’t true, it’s a nice thing to say.”

“You doubt my veracity?”

“Veracity? That’s a pretty big word for a lowly soldier who tramples carpets and breaks crystal; wouldn’t you say, Sergeant?”

He laughed. “Is she always so predatory?”

“With me, yes, and I have no notion why. After all, I wouldn’t know what to do with a man if he fell facefirst into my lap.”

“Ah, schoolmarm, don’t tempt me . . . Never mind,” he said softly. “So how was my behavior?”

“Stellar, Sergeant. I haven’t wanted to succumb to your talents once.”

“Then dance with me.”

His offer made her sense leap. “Out here?”

“Here and now. You promised me a dance, remember?”

She took a hasty look around to see who might be near. Recklessness overcame her again. “I’d like that very much.”

She placed her small, trembling hand in his large, sure one. His other lightly graced her waist. He began to glide her around the dark porch. The
music flowed gently from inside. Cara could not tear her eyes away from his shadowed gaze. The hand on her waist burned through the fabric. Her feet were keeping excellent pace with his polished steps, and she felt as if they were dancing on air. He moved her onto the darkest part of the porch, and after a few more charged moments, their steps slowed, then stopped, and their gazes locked. He released the hand holding hers and reached up to stroke her cheek. Her eyes closed. He tenderly tilted her chin and lowered his mouth to cover hers, brushing her lips until they opened for the temptations offered by his tongue, and he licked their sensitive corners.

“Now who’s succumbing?” she whispered.

“Sassy woman . . .” He pulled her against the hard, long length of him, and she caught fire. She gave no thoughts to morality clauses, Virginia Sutton, or the men pitching horseshoes who might be able to see them. Her whole being was enthralled by him and the realization that she’d been wanting this . . . wanting him, all night. She slid her hands up his muscled arms and thrilled to the pressure of her lips oh his. Taking a lesson from him, she slid her tongue against the opened corners of his mouth. He groaned at her boldness and pushed her gently back against the porch post. His hard thighs moved against her in a slow rhythm that, unaware, she began to mimic. She sighed with pleasure as his lips left hers to sample the side of her jaw, her neck, while his strong hands made slow, hot circles up and down the sides of her white blouse. When his right hand began to-explore the shape of her skirt-draped hip and thigh, Cara came up for air, and clamping her hand on his wrist. “We have to stop. . . .” she murmured.

He did so, but with great reluctance that equaled her own. They shared several more soft, sweet tastes of each other before he finally withdrew.

Cara’s breathing took a moment to quiet, and while it did, she filled her eyes with him. “You are determined to ruin me, aren’t you?”

“Only if you want me to, darlin’.”

She smiled, passion blazing in her eyes. “Sophie’s probably ready. . . .”

“One more kiss.”

He reclaimed her mouth, and his lips moved over hers for a few endless seconds. Only after he heard her soft moan did he let her go.

“Now we can leave,” he whispered. “You go and find Sophie. I’ll meet you out front with the board.”

Cara quickly found Sophie. On their way to the door, Cara’s gaze locked with Virginia’s. Even from across the room, Cara could read the anger in those eyes. She nodded politely and followed Sophie outside.

As they rode home, Cara wondered when the passion would subside. Every inch of her body throbbed. Being squeezed against Chase made it impossible to forget the interlude on the porch. She stopped trying. She’d enjoyed it. She would probably be appalled at her actions in the morning, but not now. Now the feeling of him so solidly against her made her senses sing.

Chase pulled the horse to a halt up in front of Sophie’s place and waited for the women to get out. “I’ll take this on over to the livery.”

“Thanks, Chase.”

“Good night, Miss Henson.”

“Good night, Sergeant,” she returned softly.

* * *

“Tell me about Cara,” Chase asked Sophie as they sat in her office. He’d stopped in after taking the buckboard over to the livery, hoping Cara hadn’t gone up to her room yet, but she had.

“She’s a lot like me, knows her own mind, independent.”

“She says she’s been on her own since she was nine.”

“Yep. Her grandfather was killed by Union soldiers in ‘64.”

“Union
soldiers?”

“Union soldiers. Her grandfather was a free man. Some of Sherman’s troops lynched him when he wouldn’t tell them where his master had gone.”

“Lord,” Chase whispered.

“I know. Some other troops, Black troops I think she said, found her a few days later in the root cellar, delirious and in shock. She lived in a contraband camp for a while and then went to an orphanage.”

Chase’s heart broke for Cara. He remembered how solemn she had become when he first asked after her kin. No wonder. “What happened to her parents?”

“Mother died in childbirth, father in one of the late battles of the war. He was with a Black regiment.”

“She’s had a hard life.”

“Yes, she has, but then so have you.”

He didn’t speak of his own past. “Tell me why she hasn’t been snatched up by one of these farmers around here.”

“She’s real smart, and some men are put off by that. And she’s not easily impressed. When the Black Widow’s son came to town six months ago, he was just sure she’d be bowled over because
he’d attended Howard College. Well, she wasn’t. He runs a saloon for heaven’s sake. I guess he thought that wouldn’t matter.”

“Virginia Sutton has a son?”

“Yes. Showed up one day out of the blue. He and his ma don’t get along very well though, according to what I’ve heard. He told Cara she’s fated to be with him.”

“Fated?” He’d never met the son, but already he didn’t like him.