Daniel's Desire (9 page)

Daniel released her and loosened the buttons on her dress. She closed her eyes, felt the light touch of his feathery kisses on her eyelids, then her nose, her chin, and finally the soft, sensitive skin under her ear. He pushed the dress to her waist and slid the straps of her chemise off her shoulders.

His eyes darkened with passion as he skimmed her exposed skin, and then cupped her breast, kneading, pinching the nipple between his thumb and fore-finger. “Just as I’d imagined. So beautiful.”

Rosemarie threw her head back and moaned. He dipped his head, and pulled a pebbled nipple into his mouth. His teeth grazed the tip and then he suckled deeply, shooting waves of sensation to the apex of her thighs.

A soft moan escaped her lips as she glanced at his head against her chest, his mouth working her breast. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

“I want you, sweetheart.” He raised his head, and caressed her cheek. “But I have no right.”

Ever since he’d cut his hair and shaved his beard a couple of weeks ago, which revealed the strong chin with a cleft in the center, her hands had itched to run them over his face. Now she gave into the temptation and cupped his cheek. “I don’t care.”

“I have nothing to offer you. I can’t even stay.”

“I don’t care. Just love me for tonight.”

Daniel groaned and swooped her into his arms. He strode the hallway and pushed open the door to her bedroom with his shoulder. He deposited her gently on the bed, his gaze never leaving hers as he pulled his shirt from his pants.

• • •

Scant moonlight cast a glow on the bedroom door as it eased open. Jolted awake by the sound, Rosemarie’s stomach clenched, afraid it was one of the children, who would see Daniel lying alongside her. When the door fully opened, the man who occupied her thoughts stood there, fully dressed. She quickly darted a glance at the mattress, at the outline of his body. He moved further into the room, and sat on the bed next to her. One look at his face and she knew. Her stomach muscles clenched.

“You know.” He took her hand in his. The warmth from his touch shot straight to her core. Tears rushed to her eyes and she blinked rapidly to regain her emotions. For the first time in her life she had felt cared for, as though she meant more to someone than what she could do for them or bring them.

She should be ashamed that she gave herself to Daniel, but in her heart she knew it was right. At least she would have one night of glorious memories to sustain her.

“Yes,” she whispered, her chin trembling. “I know it’s time.”

Daniel pushed the hair away from her forehead, leaned forward and kissed the spot he uncovered. “I wish I could stay.” He released her hand and stared out the window at the bare branches swaying in the late winter wind. “I wish there were no war, no North and South. No Union and Confederacy.” His gaze met hers. “Most of all I wish I could stay here with you, love you every night, watch your belly swell with our child.”

Rosemarie sat up and brought his hand to her cheek. “That’s what I wish for as well.” She dropped his hand and raised her chin. “But wishes are just that, Reb — wishes.”

He smiled at the return of the nickname, then his lips tightened. “I hate that I’m not in a position to make promises.”

“I know.” Rosemarie clasped his large hand in hers. “The children will miss you.”

“Only the children?” His heated gaze searched her face for an answer.

She slowly moved her head back and forth. “No.”

In one swift movement, Daniel crushed her to him, claiming her mouth. Rosemarie parted her lips and he swept his tongue in. The intimacy of the act sent a shock wave through her body. She moaned and slid her palms upward, encircling his neck, pulling him closer.

Daniel raised his head and cupped her cheeks. “You mean so much to me.” When her eyes filled again, he kissed each eyelid. Two tears slid down her cheeks. He tucked her head against his chest and she inhaled deeply, trying to memorize his smell, and feel.

“When this war is over … ”

“No.” She pulled away. “Don’t make promises.” She stiffened her spine, and wiped the dampness from her face. “You have a whole different life, far away from us.”

He took her cold hands in his warm ones. “No, sweetheart, I have no life far away from here. My family’s land has been sold, my parents are both dead, and my brother, if he’s still alive, is fighting with the Union Army.”

Again he pulled her to him. “If I survive, I will return, even if I have to walk all the way.”

Rosemarie shook her head. “Don’t say that. Please.”

He cupped both of her cheeks with his large hands. “Do you think I would make love to you and not plan a future if I were able?”

Unable to speak, she merely shook her head.

Daniel shifted to one knee and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a crested ring, the glow of moonlight emphasizing its rich patina. He stared at the circle of gold for a moment, then took Rosemarie’s hand and placed it in her outstretched palm, closing her long slender fingers around it. “I will be back.”

He sighed and kissed her fisted hand. “If I don’t leave now, I never will. I’m still a wanted man.” Daniel ran his knuckles across her cheek, stood, then headed to the door.

“Where are you headed?” How could she make normal conversation at a time like this?

“To Kentucky. I’ll be safer there. I’ll try to hitch a ride to Virginia.” He stared over her head, his jumbled thoughts visible on his face. “General Lee needs all the help he can get. Something tells me we’re getting close to the end.” He shook his head, as if to clear it. As his hand rested on the doorknob, he added, “I’m leaving the horse for you.”

Rosemarie swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, wrapping her arms around her middle. “Take the horse. You have a long way to go.”

“No. You need the animal here. I’ll be fine. Get back into bed, it’s cold.”

“Daniel … ”

He shook his head, and left the room, the soft click of the door closing a dagger to her heart.

April 10, 1865

“Mama?” Chandler stood alongside Rosemarie’s bed as she eased her eyes open, squinting at the sunlight streaming across the bed bathing her face in warmth.

She’d spent the hours after Daniel’s departure tossing and turning, her thoughts so jumbled, sleep remained elusive. She rose on one elbow, blinking away the grit from her aching eyes, confused at the amount of daylight. It must be long past the time they all generally awoke.

Rosemarie smiled at her son. “What time is it, Chandler?”

“I don’t know, but Amelia and Jace are sick.”

Rosemarie threw the quilt off and stood. “Sick?”

He nodded. “Jace is crying that his throat hurts, and Amelia just threw up. I gave her the chamber pot.”

They hurried to the children’s room. Rosemarie pushed open the door and halted. Her two younger children tossed in their beds, their faces flush with fever.

“Amelia?” She knelt beside her and smoothed back the hair from her brow.

Her daughter stared back at her with glazed eyes. “Mama, I don’t feel good.”

The sound of Jace crying softly caught her attention, and she moved to his bed. The baby thrashed, his legs moving restlessly as he licked his dried lips. “Mama.” He held his hand out, which Rosemarie took, alarmed at the heat radiating from it.

“Itchy,” Amelia whimpered.

Rosemarie scooted back and lifted the child’s nightgown. A rash covered her neck and chest. She checked Jace. The skin on his small body felt dry and scratchy, and he had a similar rash.

“How do you feel, Chan?”

“My throat hurts a little, but I feel okay.”

“I’ll be right back.” Rosemarie left the room, her heart thumping. Childhood illnesses killed.

Dust motes danced in the air as she hurried down the hallway to the parlor. She raced to the bookshelf Hans had built for her as a wedding present. Shaky fingers retrieved the worn copy of Gunn’s Domestic Medicine, the well-used book her mother had given her when Rosemarie was carrying Chandler. Rosemarie had memories of Mama leafing through the pages while a sick child or two writhed on his bed. Although her mother had managed to raise seven children, she’d given birth to ten. One died at childbirth and the other two succumbed to childhood illness.

Brows furrowed, Rosemarie hastened to the bedroom, flipping the pages as she walked. She skimmed over symptoms of numerous diseases that struck children every year. Her eyes moved back and forth as she read the description under Childhood Diseases.

Symptoms of chicken pox include a rash on the patient’s chest, then face. He will also complain of nausea, fever, headache, sore throat, and pain in both ears. As in all illnesses of childhood, chicken pox may be dangerous, and easily spreads from one person to another. The patient should be kept quiet, and indoors. If possible, a doctor should be consulted for instructions.

“Mama,” Jace wailed right before he vomited onto the floor.

“Chandler, fetch me a pan of water and some cloths to cool your brother and sister down.” She searched his face. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Chandler eyed the mess on the floor and swallowed a few times. “I think so.”

She placed her hand on his forehead. No fever, so far.

“I want you to cool down Jace and Amelia while I clean the floor.” From sheer habit, she headed to her bedroom to dress and fetch Daniel from the barn. She would need help. Then her thoughts stopped her as if she’d run into a wall. Daniel was gone. She was all alone with two, possibly three children, who could die. Tears welled in her eyes. Dear God, what could she do?

Rosemarie limped in circles, wringing her hands. Despite the clear U.S. brand on the stolen horse’s left shoulder, she needed to hitch it to the wagon and bring the three children into town to see the doctor. She would find a way to cover the marking.

“Mama, should I fetch Mr. McCoy from the barn? He’ll know what to do.” Chandler stood in the doorway to her bedroom.

“He’s … ” What? Gone forever. On his way back to the war. No longer able to help us. She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Mr. McCoy left last night to rejoin his regiment.”

“What will we do?” Chandler’s voice quivered, his face pale. Amazing that the Reb had been here less than a month, and already her son had lost faith in her ability to handle things. She was their mother, she’d nursed them before.

But never all three at the same time, and with a serious illness.

Rosemarie stared at him for a minute. “Go to the barn and hitch the horse to the wagon. We’ll take Jace and Amelia into town to see the doctor.”

Chandler raced away from the door, and Rosemarie quickly removed her nightgown and pulled on a dress. Once the floor in the children’s bedroom had been cleaned, she hurried outside with the feather mattress from the boys’ bed and stuffed it into the back of the wagon.

The horse’s brand glared at her in disapproval. At the sound of retching, she turned to see Chandler emptying his stomach alongside the wagon. A sense of urgency swept through her. “Go wash out your mouth, and then climb into the wagon and lie down.”

“What about Jace and Amelia?” Chandler wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”

Both children tossed on their beds, whimpering. She wrapped Jace in his blanket, and carried him outside. Back from his trek to the sink, Chandler reached for Jace and tucked him into the wagon bed. Once he settled in, Rosemarie hurried to the house and carried Amelia out.

“Mama, I’m so hot.” Her daughter whined.

“I know, honey. But you must keep the blanket wrapped around you.”

“Where we going?”

“I’m bringing you and your brothers to Dr. Kennedy, in town. He’ll know what to do to make you feel better.”

“I like Dr. Kennedy,” she whispered.

With everyone tucked in, Rosemarie threw another blanket over the horse to hide the brand, tied the ribbons of her bonnet under her chin, then drove the wagon out of the yard.

• • •

Rosemarie urged the horse down the main street of Bartlett Creek, a small town standing halfway between the Wilson farm and Indianapolis. With the three children sick, it had been a quiet drive. They’d stopped a few times to allow one child or another to lean over the side of the wagon and throw up.

The sun shone high overhead, but the air remained cool. Shops did a brisk business, with customers going in and out, carrying bags of goods. After a few minutes, Rosemarie sensed a mood of gaiety in the air. People greeted passers-by with smiles, men shook hands, and women hugged each other. Shrugging, she continued down the street, and turned the corner next to the saloon. The tinny jangle of a piano blared from the doorway, and from the sound of it, more than a couple of men had decided to drink their noon meal.

She pulled up in front of a white clapboard house. If she’d been able to ride into town when Hans had been shot, perhaps Dr. Kennedy may have saved his life. But left with no horses, she’d taken care of her husband herself. Guilt gripped her when she realized she would never have known Daniel, made love with him, if Hans had survived. Nine years of marriage to Hans had never moved her the way one night with Daniel had. The door to the snug white and blue house opened before Rosemarie even knocked.

“What brings you all the way out here, Mrs. Wilson?” The doctor’s wife, a round-cheeked woman of middle years, wiped her hands on her apron and smiled at Rosemarie.

“My children are sick. Is the doctor in?”

“Not at the moment, but he should be back very soon.” Mrs. Kennedy stepped onto the porch, and patted Rosemarie’s arm. “Let’s get the little ones into the house.”

Mrs. Kennedy hurried down the porch steps, Rosemarie struggling behind her. Chandler was able to walk, and Mrs. Kennedy and Rosemarie carried the younger ones.

“We’ll need to cool them down while we wait for the doctor.” Rosemarie laid Amelia on a small cot in the doctor’s infirmary. “Can you get me some water and a cloth?”

“Certainly, dear. I’ll be right back.”

Rosemarie tugged at the ribbons of her bonnet and laid it on the table next to Jace. A quick inspection of foreheads revealed all three children burned with fever.