Gold (9 page)

“
Oh, King, you know I’ll never forget you.
Never.”

Leaning down, he
’d raised her face to his and
was surprised to find tears on her cheeks. When
he kissed her the taste of her mouth was the taste
of salt. She opened her lips to him and her tongue
met his before drawing away. He released her, his
hand fondling her ear and trailing gently to caress
the hair at the nape of her neck.

He clucked to his horse.

“King,” she called after him. “King, will I see
you again? Before you go?”

He
’d spurred the horses, glancing back at Mary
waving to him from beneath the oak. “Perhaps,”
he’d called, knowing his voice would be lost in the
thudding of his horse’s hooves.

Now, in Wilkes
’ study, King was considering
his next move. Risk, he told himself. Risk was
all. It must be an audacious gambit. Daring. At
times, he thought he must want to be caught out.
Punished. But that was foolish. Why would he?
His mind had been in a jumble lately—there were
too many complications in his life. So many that
this California fantasy had a certain appeal. If he
could make it real, it would give him what he
wanted, freedom. Mary’s image in the mirror frowned. He saw the rise and fall of her breasts as she sighed and then
her reflection was gone as she walked away toward
the staircase. He pictured her entering her bed
room at the top of the stairs, imagined her sitting
in front of a mirror to unpin her hair and let it
cascade to her shoulders, standing while her maid
unbuttoned her gown, the gown slipping from her
white shoulders . . .

“
The fate of this nation will be decided not by
the mouthings of abolitionists or secessionists,” Wilkes was intoning, “nor by the empty vaporings
of politicians in Washington, nor by the industrial
might of the North nor the undoubted power of King Cotton combined with the foreign powers
who must align themselves with the South. No, our fate hinges on events in the West, in Texas
and, more importantly, in California. Those will
be the battlegrounds, peaceful battlegrounds one
can only pray, where the destiny of the nation
will be decided. There the decision will be made
as to whether we can exist half-slave and half-free
or whether the balance of power will tilt to the
North so that we in the South must sever the
bonds of a union we have prized for so long. Don’t
you agree?”

“
Unhesitatingly,” Dr. Robinson said.

King nodded. The fool. Peaceful battleground
indeed. “What Webster or Clay or Calhoun would
have taken two days to expound, you’ve reduced to two hours,” he said. He stubbed out his cigar
and stretched. “Your hospitality is unequaled,” he
told Wilkes, looking at the clock. “Only eleven,
yet I must leave. My wife . . .”

“
Of course,” Wilkes said. “We understand.”

“
Tell Betsy I’ll look in on her Monday next,”
Dr. Robinson said. “And make sure she takes the
elixir I prescribed.”

“
I will, doctor.” He bowed to Wilkes. “And my
respects to your lovely and charming wife,” he
said.

“
Thank you, Kingman. I expect Dr. Robinson
and I will amuse ourselves over the cribbage
board before he leaves for town.”

“
Cribbage and Yancey brandy,” Robinson said,
“make an excellent combination.”

King waved Wilkes back to his chair.
“Don’t
bother,” he said. “I know the way.”

He closed the study door behind him. The
house was quiet--no servants were about this time of night. As he made his way along the hall he glanced up the staircase curving into the darkness
of the second story. Mary must be in her night
gown by now, probably in bed reading her latest
romance. While she had disrobed he had been
forced to listen to Wilkes’ prattling. Damn Wilkes!
he thought.

He removed his hat from the rack, hesitated,
then replaced it on the peg. Outside, he walked
quickly across the portico and down the steps to his horse. Once in the pine wood to the south of
the Yancey place he dismounted and secured the
reins to a tree.

King reentered the Yancey house as quietly as he could. One lamp still burned in the hall, his hat
was on the peg where he had left it, the study was closed. He went to the study door and waited until
he heard the drone of Wilkes’ voice. Turning, he paused only an instant before climbing the stairs.

Now there was no going back.

The top of the stairs was in shadow so he could make out only the dark rectangles of the portraits
on the walls and of the doors to the bedrooms.
Wilkes’ and Mary’s room was just to the left across
the hall.

He glanced over the railing and up and down
the hallway. No one was about. Putting his ear to
the bedroom door, he listened. There was no
sound from inside. He grasped and turned the
doorknob. The door eased open, the room beyond
was dark. He slipped quickly inside and closed
the door behind him.

There were four windows, two on each of the
opposite sides of the spacious room, just as he
remembered from the many times he had played
here as a child. Pale moonlight shimmered on the long white curtains of the two eastern windows,
giving the entire room an unearthly glow.

The bed was to his left, large and dark. King
sat on the floor to remove his boots. In his stocking feet he silently approached the canopied bed,
and lifted the white netting.

Mary lay on her back, breathing softly and
deeply, one pale arm on top of the blankets, her
shoulder bare. King let the netting drop and went
to check one of the windows he had chosen as an
exit. Yes, there it was. Holding the window curtain aside, he looked down at the roof of the por
tico he had often jumped onto as a boy, there to
hang from the edge by his fingers, then drop into
the flower bed beside the drive. He’d done it
often thirty years before, and he could still do it
today.

He took off the rest of his clothes and piled
them by the window on top of his boots. Then he
returned silently to the bed, opened the netting,
drew down the covers and slid beneath the sheets.
Mary stirred. King remained perfectly still, hold
ing his breath while he relished the moment.

He slid across the bed until he was almost,
though not quite, touching her. He felt Mary’s warmth on his naked body. With his left hand he
gently, caressed her with his fingers. Only after
what seemed to him a long time did he feel moisture and hear her breathing quicken. Her body, as
though of its own volition, began to writhe beside
him.

He removed his hand and shifted away from
her to the far side of the bed. “It’s not Wilkes,” he said. “It’s King.”

There was silence.

“King?” A whisper then. “King!” Almost a
shout. She sat up.

“
Quiet,” he told her. “Don’t wake the house.
How would you explain me?”

“
King.” Her voice lowered quietly. “How did
you get here?”

“
The usual way. Up the stairs and through the
door.”

“
Where’s Wilkes?”

“
Playing cribbage with Dr. Robinson. When
the good doctor leaves Wilkes will light him to his
carriage and I’ll be able to see him from here.”

“
King, you have to go. This minute. What if
Wilkes does find you here? He’ll kill you.”

“
Wilkes?”

“
If not Wilkes, then his brothers will. You
know how they stick together.”

“
I had to come, Mary. I had to see you again
before I left for California.” He paused. “I love you, Mary.”

“
I don’t believe you, King Sutton.”

“
Have I ever lied to you, Mary? You don’t
know the torture you’ve put me through these last
months, seeing you, seeing your loveliness and
not being able to reach out to you. Not being
able to touch you or kiss you.”

“
King, you know how I feel. It’s as though you’re the only real person I know. You’re the
only one I can talk to, really talk to.”

He sat up beside her and smoothed her hair
with his hand, a strand catching in his ring. For a
moment he hesitated.

“
King,” Mary said, “I go all weak inside when
you touch me. Nobody’s ever made me feel like
that before.”

He leaned to her, kissing her, and her lips parted. Their tongues met and she was in his
arms, awkwardly, both sitting up on the bed, and
he felt her bare shoulder under his hand. Then
her head tilted back and she fell beside him, her back across the pillow. As he was pulling her
nightgown up, it tangled under her arms. She
reached down to help him. Still the gown wouldn’t
come off, so she pushed him away, raised her
arms, and then he was able to remove it.

As she sat facing him, she seemed haloed by
the moonlight coming through the curtains and
the netting, her full breasts in shadow. He felt de
sire rise in him, demandingly, but he held his own
urgent need back. He took her in his arms, guiding
her down between the sheets with his mouth to
hers, his tongue twining with hers, his body to
hers—feeling the thrust of her breasts on his chest,
her thighs on his legs. One of his hands explored
between her legs, caressing her, and she quivered
in his arms.

He kissed her neck, then lowered his head to
the swell of her breast, his mouth closed over her
nipple and he circled it with his tongue. She
moaned. “Oh, King, oh, King,” she said again and
again. He slid his knee between her legs, parting
them, and suddenly he was inside her, his mouth
still at one breast, his hand kneading the other
while her body strained to move with his.

She shuddered, a growing, all-encompassing spasm seeming to rise from her loins to shake her
entire body. She shuddered again and again but still he held back, stretched taut yet waiting. Fi
nally, after a prolonged, ecstatic gasp, she stilled and lay limp in his arms. He kissed her gently on
the lips and eyes.

“
Oh, King,” she moaned. “I never knew it
could be like that.”

He turned her over. When she was on her stom
ach, he knelt, straddling her, his hands at her
hips. “King?” He lifted her. “On my hands and
knees, King?”

He spread her legs so his were between hers.
His hands felt for her sex, caressing her as he en
tered her from behind, one hand on her sex, the
other cupping her breast. She groaned, straining
back against him.

“
I can’t again,” she panted. “I can’t, I
...
oh,
King.” She shuddered beneath him and he felt his
response, let himself go at last and moved with
her. Released. Fulfilled.

The netting was thrown aside and Wilkes stood
staring down at them, a lamp in his hand. Behind him King had an impression of the dim figure of
Dr. Robinson in the bedroom door.

King swung out of bed on the far side, went to
the window, and began dressing. Wilkes stood im
mobile, gaping at him. The man seemed to be in total shock.

“
Wilkes,” King said, “you have the damnedest
sense of timing of any man I know. If you were
going to ask Dr. Robinson to spend the night, you
should have told me.”