You Belong to My Heart (30 page)

Unable to move, Mary Ellen closed her eyes in horror as her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest. Body tensed, bracing for the pain to come, she was saved from a fate worse than death when the soldier’s heavy weight abruptly left her. His blunt fingers pulled painfully at her tangled hair and then released it.

Mary Ellen’s frightened eyes opened to see Captain Knight above her in the rain, his hand gripping the drunk’s collar, pulling the grunting beast off her. Then the brutal slam of the Captain’s fist against the man’s startled face sounded like a pistol shot. The swift, powerful force of the blow knocked the soldier out cold, and Mary Ellen whimpered in stunned relief.

She was sitting up, smoothing down her damp, dirty skirts, when the Captain pulled her to her feet and put his arms around her.

“Are you all right?” he asked anxiously, his shaky voice betraying the depth of his concern. “Mary, did he hurt you?…Did he…?”

“No,” she murmured, trembling like a leaf in the wind. She clung to him, burying her face in the curve of his neck and shoulder while the gentle rain pelted them. “No, you got here in time, Clay. Oh, Clay, Clay,” she said, then choked, crying now.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against her wet, tangled hair, realizing that she had called him Clay instead of Captain. She hadn’t called him Clay since they were children. “I’ve got you, Mary. No one can hurt you now. Shhh, don’t cry. Shhh.”

The tall Captain stood there in the falling rain, holding Mary Ellen close, comforting her, soothing her, murmuring her name over and over again in a tone of voice she hadn’t heard before.

The moment of tenderness passed.

Captain Knight set her back and scowled at her, a muscle spasming his cheek. Nobody else on earth could give him such a scare. Damn her for frightening him so badly.

Mary Ellen stood before him, shivering with emotion. She looked young and vulnerable and incredibly desirable. Her face was wet with rain and tears, her hair dirty and tangled, her dress damp and clinging to her slender, shaking body.

Tense, angry, Captain Knight whistled for his well-trained black stallion, and the big beast came to him immediately. The Captain turned to the horse and swiftly unstrapped his rolled-up black slicker from behind the cantle. He shook out the slicker, draped it around Mary Ellen’s shoulders, and drew her to him.

He raised a hand, swept a damp, dirty lock of hair from her cheek, and spontaneously lowered his mouth to her wet, trembling lips.

But he caught himself in time. He was an inch away from kissing her when he abruptly came to his senses, raised his dark head. Teeth gritted, he lifted Mary Ellen into the saddle. His silver eyes narrowed, he cast one quick glance at the unconscious soldier, vowing he’d deal with the drunken bastard later. He turned away angrily, leaving the soldier lying in the rain.

The Captain swung up behind Mary Ellen. He was stiff and silent as they rode to Longwood in the falling rain. But Mary Ellen was so grateful he had saved her and so happy to be enclosed inside his strong arms, she sighed and leaned back against his hard chest, laying her damp head on his shoulder.

She stole glances at his rain-wet profile outlined against the night sky, some features clearly defined, the others in deep shadow. His raven hair was wet and plastered to his well-shaped head, and diamond beads of rain clung to his long, sweeping eyelashes.

He looked like a dark god to her, and Mary Ellen could hardly wait to get home to Longwood. If what he was feeling was anything like what she was feeling, he would take her straight upstairs to his suite. Together they would strip and bathe away the rain and the dirt, and then they would get into that seven-and-a-half-foot-wide mahogany bed and make love while the rain peppered the balcony outside the open French doors.

As they rode up the pebbled drive of Longwood, Mary Ellen smiled contentedly.

But she blinked in disbelief when the Captain remained mounted, plucked her from the stallion’s back, and deposited her at the front gate.

Then, without so much as a by-your-leave, he wheeled the big stallion about and rode off into the rainy night.

C
APTAIN KNIGHT RODE AWAY
from Longwood the minute he’d lowered Mary to her feet. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done. It took all his strong will and practiced self-control to leave her standing in the rain.

But he had to do it.

His dark face set, his gray eyes narrowed, Captain Knight dug his heels into the black stallion’s flanks. The surprised creature neighed loudly but immediately went into a ground-eating gallop. Gravel crunched and flew beneath the black’s striking hooves as he carried his troubled master swiftly down the pebbled drive.

The Captain had forced himself to stay away from Mary.

He had stopped making love to her when he found himself starting to fall in love with her all over again. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t. She wouldn’t get a second crack at him. Not this boy.

At River Road the determined Captain turned his mount toward South Memphis. His blood up, wanting Mary, wanting to
not
want Mary, he headed for the city’s most famous brothel.

He had not yet paid a visit to the plush sporting house, but he’d heard from fellow officers that the women were extraordinarily beautiful and more than competent at their craft.

That was what he needed.

That was
all
he needed.

One beautiful woman was like another. He’d learned years ago that they were all the same. There was virtually no difference in any of them.

Including Mary Preble.

It wasn’t Mary he wanted, it was a woman. Any woman. As long as she was beautiful. A night in the arms of a beautiful woman and this nagging tension would leave him.

When he reached the imposing three-story structure on the southern outskirts of the city, Captain Knight dismounted and tossed the reins to a waiting groom. He glanced about curiously. Fine carriages were parked around the lighted establishment, most with liveried drivers waiting patiently beside them. The house was doing a brisk business on this rainy August night.

Captain Knight climbed the red-brick mansion’s stone steps, lifted the brass door knocker, rapped it a couple of times, then waited. He brushed raindrops from the shoulders of his white uniform blouse, withdrew a handkerchief from an inside pocket, and blotted the moisture from his dark face.

A smiling, red-jacketed butler opened the heavy oak front door. The Captain went inside and was directed to a spacious, richly carpeted parlor. The elegant room was filled with a mixture of uniformed officers and expensively dressed civilians and gorgeous, lushly gowned women.

White-jacketed waiters passed through the crowd, serving stemmed glasses of chilled champagne. And in the far corner of the room, a smiling black man in evening clothes played a mellow love song on a square rosewood piano.

Captain Knight stood in the arched doorway, looking around leisurely, when an elegantly gowned, plump middle-aged woman stepped up beside him and took his arm. She greeted him warmly and scolded him teasingly for waiting so long to pay a call.

“Where have you been, Captain Knight?” she asked.

“You have me at a disadvantage,” he said politely.

“Belle. Belle Leyland, Captain Knight,” the buxom madam introduced herself, her fleshy cheeks dimpling. “My girls have seen you in town and they’re most eager to entertain you.”

He smiled and, spotting an extremely tall, incredibly glamorous redhead in a shimmering silver evening gown standing beside the massive piano, said decisively, “That one.” He inclined his dark head. “The lady in silver.”

The dimpling madam told him titteringly, “You’ve made a good choice, Captain. Her name’s Lita, and she’s only been with me a few weeks. Came here from New Orleans and she—”

“I’ll want her for the entire night,” he interrupted the madam’s monologue. “And I want her now.”

“Ah, our handsome Captain is most eager. Lita will be delighted.” The madam motioned to the leggy Lita, and the large, luscious redhead crossed the crowded room. She wore nothing beneath the shimmering silver gown, and as she walked unhurriedly toward him, her unfettered breasts bounced appealingly and the shiny silver fabric pulled across her stomach and hips.

The statuesque Lita reached them, laid a red-nailed hand on the Captain’s damp uniform blouse, and smiled at him seductively. At six feet she was almost as tall as he, and her body was as white and as soft as his was dark and hard. Her flaming red hair framed a beautiful face with large green eyes and a wide, red mouth.

Surely this exotic Amazon could make him forget the slender, pale-haired mistress of Longwood.

“Forgive my appearance, Lita,” he said, sliding a long arm around her waist. “I was caught in the rain.”

Her emerald eyes aglow, she said, “Why, you look good enough to eat,
mon Capitaine.”

He laughed, and the leggy Lita took his arm and ushered him up the carpeted stairs. The pair had started down the long upstairs corridor when a tall, richly dressed gentleman with mussed blond hair and bleary eyes exited one of the many bedrooms.

The blond man looked up, and his gaze clashed with the Captain’s.

“Knight,” he said, stepping in front of them, “Clay Knight!”

Nodding almost imperceptibly, Captain Knight responded coolly, “Hello, Lawton.”

Half drunk, Daniel Lawton gave the red-haired Lita an apologetic smile and said to the Captain, “Can I have a word with you, Knight?”

Captain Knight’s hand possessive on the redhead’s bare arm, he said, “Anytime, Lawton. Naval headquarters are open daily. Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

“No, wait,” said Daniel Lawton, a degree of urgency in his voice. “Give me five minutes. Please, it’s important. There’s something I want to get off my chest.”

The redhead squeezed the Captain’s muscular arm, indicated a closed door, and said, “I’ll be waiting for you, Captain. Hurry.”

Captain Knight watched her walk away. He was irritated and anxious to be rid of Daniel Lawton. But he reluctantly allowed the half-drunk man to guide him down the long hall and outside onto a small balcony. When they stepped out into the rain, the Captain’s irritation grew.

“What’s on your mind, Lawton?” he asked impatiently.

“Mary Ellen,” said Daniel.

The expression on Captain Knight’s face changed quickly. The rain and the redhead forgotten, he listened attentively while the slightly inebriated Daniel Lawton confessed what had really happened all those years ago.

Speaking rapidly, as if more than anxious to tell it, Daniel began, “One afternoon in the late spring of forty-eight, John Thomas Preble asked me to come down to the Cotton Company for a talk. I had no idea what was on his mind until I got there.” Daniel inhaled heavily, shook his blond head, and continued. “He shut his office door and said, ‘Daniel, my boy, how would you like to marry my beautiful daughter, Mary Ellen?’ Now I admit that I had always wanted Mary Ellen, but I knew it was out of the question because she loved you. John Thomas said you weren’t good enough for his daughter, that he was going to get you out of the way, and then Mary Ellen would fall right into my arms.”

Daniel Lawton stood there in the gently falling rain, telling how John Thomas Preble had so cunningly, cleverly planned everything down to the last detail and had successfully manipulated all of them.

“As soon as Preble sent you off to Baltimore for those academy entrance interviews, he told Mary Ellen you had jilted her. Said you didn’t want her, didn’t love her and never had. Said you’d used her to get what you really wanted—an appointment to Annapolis.”

His dark face impassive, Clay listened as Daniel Lawton continued, relating how the badly hurt, grieving Mary Ellen had been sent to Europe and then coerced into marriage. Daniel talked and talked, explaining everything, leaving out nothing.

He told Captain Clay Knight that Mary Ellen’s father had lied to her, just as he had to Clay. He swore that she was totally innocent and ignorant of all the wrongdoing.

The rain and the gravity of his confession sobering him, Daniel Lawton related the whole sordid story to the tall, dark man whose sweetheart he had stolen. He admitted to being a willing party to John Thomas Preble’s ruse and said that the heartbroken Mary Ellen had never loved him, that their marriage had been a charade from the very beginning.

Finally convinced Lawton was telling the truth, Captain Knight said, “Why? Why are you telling me this now?”

Daniel Lawton said sadly, truthfully, “I’m not much of a man, Knight. I’ve never worked a day in my life. I’m aimless and lazy. I’m a lousy husband and an indifferent father. I’m a drunk and a womanizer. And a coward as well. Bought my way out of serving in the war.” He sighed wearily then and admitted candidly, “I’d like to do one thing in my life that I can feel good about.”

Captain Knight left the brothel immediately.

He rode even faster going back to Longwood than when he’d left. Laughing in the rain, his heart pounding with excitement, he raced happily home to Mary.

Once there he climbed the stairs anxiously, taking them two at a time, and went straight to Mary’s door. He lifted a dark hand, then lowered it without knocking.

Tempted as he was, he knew he would have to wait. If he asked her to let him in, she’d suppose he wanted only to make love to her. He stood outside her door for long, agonizing time. And finally turned and walked away.

Inside, Mary Ellen had heard his approach. She had sensed he was standing outside her door. Wondering what kept him from knocking, wishing he had, glad he hadn’t, she sagged to her knees and leaned her cheek against the door.

He crossed the hall to the master suite, closing the door quietly behind him. He shrugged out of his damp uniform jacket and lighted a cigar. In the shadowy sitting room he smoked and paced restlessly. As he walked back and forth, back and forth, doubts and worry set in to take the edge off his exhilaration.

The newly learned truth, as sweet as it was to know, changed little. Too much time had passed. Too much had happened.