Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) (47 page)

Bandera's eyes flamed with jealousy as she whirled on
Sebastian. "You never told me you had tried to get in to see Liberty."

He waved her aside. "It was not important."

"You can't get it through your head that my sister
despises you, can you, Sebastian? If she would give you a
second glance, you would be on your knees to her. You should have married Liberty instead of me."

Colonel Newman walked out of the room, closing the
door behind him and thinking he would take a stroll on the grounds, get a breath of fresh air. For his part, he
decided the lovely Liberty Slaughter was just where she
ought to be. She certainly had no friends in this house. "I salute you, Captain Slaughter," he said under his breath. "Well done."

22

January 8, 1814

It was just daylight when the British fired a rocket into the air. That rocket was quickly followed by another and
still another. This was their signal to attack, and was
hastily answered by volleys from the Americans who were
dug in behind the mud ramparts, their guns primed and
ready.

Across the river valley, in New Orleans and points
beyond, the whole earth seemed to tremble as two warring
factions came together in a life-and-death struggle. Wild
creatures fled as man pitted his strength against his fellowman.

Gaps were blasted in the American lines by enemy
artillery, but were quickly filled with fresh troops as the
enemy marched within musket range.

lb the advancing British, the American line looked like
a continual wall of fire because the American soldiers
stood four deep behind the protective wall. One soldier
would fire his gun, step back to reload, and be replaced by another. The sequence was repeated over and over.

Nonetheless the never-ending line of British soldiers
marched forward, fell, and died. They kept coming at the
Americans, with guns blasting and flags waving.

Twenty-five minutes of continual firing, of ripping
apart their offense, passed before the advancing British
withdrew from the line of fire.

As the day wore on, filled with British advances and
retreats, it soon became clear that the Americans were
triumphant. A brave, but sorely wounded army finally
retreated in defeat.

Judah picked up the tattered American flag that had fallen near him, and waved it in the air, while patriotic
voices cried out in unison. Then Jackson rode among his
troops, speaking words of encouragement.

When the report came in later, it was hard to believe there had only been seven Americans killed and six
wounded. The British had suffered a far greater loss; their
dead and dying littered the battlefield.

Liberty stood on the deck of the
Winged Victory,
listening to the sounds of battle in the distance. She could see nothing but an occasional puff of smoke that drifted
through the air to disappear among the clouds that hung
low in to the sky. Yet cannon fire shook the earth and
rumbled like distant thunder.

She was horrified by the fighting. She wanted to cover
her head and pretend it was not happening. She closed
her eyes tightly, and prayed with all her might that Judah
would not be among the casualties. All day she stood at the railing, searching, waiting, hoping for Judah's return.

It was not yet afternoon when the big guns fell silent,
and an ominous feeling of unreality settled over the land. Philippe tried to get Liberty to go below and rest, but she
would not give up her vigil, weary though she was. She was determined to wait for some word of her husband.

Liberty thought only in terms of the human lives that
were being sacrificed. When night fell, she still stood on deck, unable to leave until she had heard some word from
the battlefield. An hour passed, and then another; and still she waited.

Philippe brought her a tray of food, but she couldn't eat it. "I am sorry you had to stay with me, Philippe. I know you wanted to be with Judah today."

The first mate's eyes held an earnest light. "The captain
paid me a very great honor today,
Madame.
He entrusted his most valued treasure to me when he placed you in my
keeping. That means a great deal to me."

Liberty could find no appropriate words to say, so she
and Philippe stood silently together, waiting and listening for the small-arms fire to cease. Finally, just before dusk,
the firing did stop and a deathly quiet hung over the land.
Liberty held her breath, wondering what the silence
meant. Exhausted and frightened, she refused to go below and rest as Philippe suggested. She kept watching for the
approach of a small craft, hoping for word of Judah.

It was almost midnight when Philippe's keen ears
picked up the sound of a small boat rowing toward them.
He pushed Liberty behind him, as the craft bumped against the
Winged Victory.

"Ahoy, you aboard, I have news of the battle."

Philippe recognized Rojo's voice and threw the ladder
down to him. As soon as Rojo was on deck, Liberty
rushed to him. "Tell us your news," she cried, trying to
read his face in the half-light of the one torch Philippe held in his hand.

"It is a victory! We did not let the British break through
our lines. We held them back. General Jackson believes
the war is all but over. America has won!"

Liberty felt her body tremble. "What news of my husband?" she asked, almost afraid to hear.

"The captain is a brave man. As always, he was in the
middle of the heaviest fighting. Even though he is not an
infantryman, today he fought as if born to be one,
Senora."

"He ... is unharmed?"

"The captain did not even get a scratch,
Senora,"
Rojo
assured her.

Liberty reached out her hand to Philippe for support as she felt herself falling, and for the first time in her young
life, she fainted.

Philippe quickly handed Rojo the torch, then gently
lifted her in his arms and carried her toward the captain's
cabin, while a concerned Rojo followed. The mate laid her on the bed, bent down beside her, and patted her
hand.
"Madame,
are you all right?" Philippe asked with
concern.

Slowly Liberty's eyes fluttered open. For a moment she
wondered where she was. Then she remembered Judah was unharmed! She smiled sheepishly at Philippe, who
had such a look of distress on his face. Rojo was hovering
behind Philippe, his face drawn up in a worried frown.

"I am fine," she assured them both. "It is more embar
rassing than anything else. I promise you, I have never
before fainted."

"No need to be ashamed,
Madame.
It is no wonder you
fainted, because you had nothing to eat all day. If I bring you a tray with something special that the cook has made
for you, will you try to get it down?"

She smiled.
"Oui,
I feel like I could eat my weight in
food, Philippe. This is a glorious time to be alive." She
glanced at Rojo. "Did my husband send word to me as to
when I should expect him?"

"No, Senora.
I was to tell you to remain here on the
Winged Victory
until otherwise notified."

Philippe saw the disappointment on Liberty's face. "Let
us leave and allow
Madame
privacy." He turned to her at
the door. "I will bring you something to eat."

Liberty, deep in thought, was hardly aware that the two
men had left. If the war was drawing to a close, then
everything in her life would be coming into focus, and she
would have to deal with the many problems that faced her. Most pressing was her dilemma over what to do about Sebastian and Bandera. They must be made to
leave Briar Oaks, she knew that, as she knew that Judah
would demand satisfaction from Sebastian!

Another thought came to her; she would now have to
face some truths about Judah. Could he have married her
just to get back at Bandera as her sister, had suggested?
Liberty would not allow herself to believe that Judah had
married her only to get his hands on Bend of the River. She could not admit that might be true, because if it
were, Judah's motives had not been that different from
Sebastian's. No, Judah was no more like Sebastian . . . than she was like Bandera.

Liberty looked at the cabin for the first time. It was
paneled in dark wood. Besides the bed, there were green
leather chairs, a desk, and several bookshelves containing books, charts, and maps. Her senses were filled with the
aroma of leather and sea air. Liberty had a feeling that she was intruding. This was Judah's world and she had only been invited into a small corner of his domain.

She moved to the bookshelves where maps and charts
were stacked. Absently she removed a map, unrolled it,
and traced the different coastlines with her finger. She noticed that a circle had been drawn around one of the
islands.

In response to a rap on the door, Liberty called out to
bid whoever it was to enter. A smiling Philippe appeared
and placed a tray of food on the desk.

"Do you think Judah will mind if I look at his maps,
Philippe?" she asked in a troubled voice, thinking she should have asked before she took out the map.

He glanced down at the map Liberty was studying, and
smiled. "No, he would not mind. I see you are interested
in the West Indies." He pointed to the circle on the map.
"That's Martinique. I suspect as soon as this war cools down the captain will be taking you there."

"Martinique. I have never heard Judah speak of it."

"Perhaps I spoke out of turn. It could be that the captain wants to surprise you. Please forget I mentioned it and eat your dinner so you can renew your strength."

She smiled at the way Philippe treated her. He spoke to
her much as her father would have. He was growing
dearer to her every time she met him. She rolled the map
up, then placed it back on the shelf. "The map will be our
little secret," she said, smiling brightly.

Philippe was charmed by his captain's lady. Every
moment he spent in her company made him more aware
of why Judah had married her. She was exceptional. Not
only beautiful, but kind and thoughtful as well. A real lady, she was, with winning ways and a genuine smile.

Philippe held the chair for her, then waited to see if she
would eat. When she picked up the fork and speared a
piece of chicken, he was satisfied and he left to attend to
his duties.

Liberty surprised herself by cleaning her plate. She felt
safe and more secure than she had felt in a long time. Weary, she stripped down to her petticoat and climbed into Judah's bed. Here, among the things he loved,
Liberty felt close to her husband. Her body sank into the
soft downy mattress which enveloped her like a caress, and she was soon asleep, lulled by the soft, swaying motion of the
Winged Victory.

Liberty stirred and opened her eyes. It was dark in the
cabin, and she couldn't see anything, but she had the feeling someone was in the room with her.

"Have no fear, it is me," Judah said reassuringly. "I tried not to awaken you since Philippe told me you needed your rest."

Excitement flowed through Liberty. She was alone with
her husband, and his deep voice stirred flaming desire to life within her.

"Do you mind a bed partner?" he asked, bending down
and placing a quick kiss on her lips.

"I ... no, of course not." How could she mind being in bed with her husband when she had yearned for his touch for so long?

Judah pulled the covers aside and slid in beside her. He
allowed her no time to think, but pulled her body against
his. "You feel so good," he murmured, as he pressed against her body molding it to his. "In the thick of the
battle today, thoughts of holding you like this kept me
going."

Liberty suspected that Judah was a master of pretty
words, that he always told a woman what she wanted to
hear. At the moment it did not matter. A sigh escaped her
lips when he smoothly removed her undergarments. His
breathing was deep as he allowed his hands to glide sensuously across her naked flesh. Softly they caressed her breasts, cupping, circling, driving her out of her
mind. When he bent his head to take a swollen nipple
between his lips, she could feel the warm heat from his
mouth. Meanwhile his wonderful hands were working magic all over her body. Her skin seemed to tingle everywhere he touched her.

The pounding of her heart sounded loud in her ears,
and when his mouth sought hers, his drugging kiss made
the earth spin. Liberty clung to Judah as if he were her
lifeline. Her body seemed to belong more to him than to
her, because he controlled her every move.