The Wicked North (Hearts Touched By Fire Book 1) Page 3

  Reaching the first of the trees, Jack slowed Windswept to a walk, but the stallion shook his head, sidestepping, his ears twitching.

  “Whoa boy,” he said in soothing tones, petting the horse’s neck. Looking beyond his mount toward the stream, he saw another horse and rider. Sun speckled through the tree leaves, blinding his vision. Squinting, he only saw white, no doubt from the horse, but the rider was a blur.

  At a slower pace, he went closer, eyes wary. Could it be Caroline?

  At the water’s bank, a white horse sipped water as its rider sat straight, looking away from him. A lady, dressed in a blue riding habit, sitting sidesaddle, her skirts draping the left side of the horse. Her back was upright from her corset. Prim and proper, her small pillbox hat at a slant on her head, a hatpin keeping the blue contraption in place. Beneath it, a spill of copper-colored curls fell across her shoulder. Emma.

  As Windswept’s hooves crunched on the sticks, she glanced in Jack’s direction. He saw the surprise on her face as her hands drew back, pulling her horse’s head up and back stepping.

  “Why, Miss Emma,” he drawled, riding closer. “What a surprise to find you up so early.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Mr. Fontaine, what are you doing here?”

  Jack laughed as he halted Windswept parallel to her. Tilting his hat back to view her better, he smiled. “I do believe there’s a horse race this morning.”

  “Yes, I suppose there is,” she replied. Her gaze darted around. She looked spooked.

  He eyed her carefully. Emma was stunning and poised in the way she sat on her horse. Her seat was perfect, and her hold on the mare displayed confidence.

  Her mare was slightly smaller than his horse, with the dish-shaped muzzle unique to her breed. Emma sat on an Arabian, the same breed as Jack’s horse. He was impressed. Windswept’s nostrils flared, his ears twitched as he tried to get closer to the mare. Jack smiled. Emma’s mare was in heat. He could use that to help him in the race.

  “Beautiful horse,” he commented. He wanted Emma’s attention on him. Frankly, she looked ready to take off and he didn’t know why.

  She blinked at him. “Yes, she is.”

  “An Arabian?”

  “Yes,” she answered as his horse sidestepped closer. “Her name is Angel.” Her head turned toward the house.

  Jack looked and saw other horses saddled and hitched at the rail. Charles, his cousin Billy and several others were coming. But a glance back at Emma made him tilt his head at her panicked look.

  “Not to worry,” he reassured her. “I have control over Windswept.”

  She blinked rapidly and looked at his horse, as if she hadn’t seen it before. What was wrong with her?

  “You need to leave me,” she stated frantically.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “You can’t be here with me, alone,” she hissed.

  This was the liveliest he had ever seen her—and the longest time he had seen her since first arriving. But she was correct. He shouldn’t be alone with her, here by the trees, hidden from view. Society and her family, especially Caroline, would find it unacceptable.

  He grimaced. On horseback and fully clothed, he couldn’t have “compromised” her if he’d wanted to. Jack laughed to himself. As if she’d let him get that close.

  “Why do you not like me, Emma?” He’d say anything to get her to stay a moment longer. There was something about her that drew him to her. What, he didn’t know, but he hoped if he talked to her, he might find out.

  She looked back at him and shook her head, appearing amazed at his question. “I don’t dislike you.”

  “But you avoid me.”

  Her lips curled in disgust. “You talk like a Yankee,” she sputtered. “Well, you did at the first, a lot, I might add, though not as badly now.”

  He laughed out loud. “Believe me, ma’am, I’m Southern born and raised.” He bowed from his saddle.

  She grunted in disbelief. “Charles said you were from Lou’s’ana.”

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “Just north of N’Orleans, on the river.”

  She didn’t return his smile but got her horse to step back. “You really need ta’ be goin’ on, sur,” she stated forcefully.

  Jack looked at the field below them. Riders came at a trot in their direction. “Will you root for me to win?”

  Emma glared at him as if he was an idiot. “I believe you have Caroline’s support for that.”

  He smiled. She was jealous. How interesting. “I may have Caroline’s but I’d like yours as well.”

  “Caroline would not like that,” she stated flatly. “For one of her followers to want…”

  “I am hardly following her,” he replied. He wasn’t, but he’d admit, she was attractive and lively enough that he liked being with her.

  “Really? You’re here to win her favor, are you not?”

  He frowned. “I’m here at your brother’s invitation. Not for your sister.”

  She studied him. “I thought you were like the rest of the…” she stopped. He couldn’t help but wonder what that might have been. “Most of the men who’ve attended this week will be askin’ to court her.”

  “I’m not here to court anyone.” He snorted. “Like your brother, I have one more year till graduation and a commission to fulfill. Tell me,” he leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Do you think the lovely Miss Caroline would take well to becoming an army officer’s wife?”

  Her lips curved in a smile. They were pink and plush, ever so ripe.

  “No, I don’t believe she’d be that willin’, unless you were stationed around Virginia or maybe Washington.”

  He nodded as if he considered her words but twitched his lips as he asked, “And what about you? How would you take it?”

  Sitting up straighter, her seat fully in the saddle. “It isn’t anything for me to worry about, now is it, Mr. Fontaine?”

  Squeezing Windswept with his legs, he made the stallion move closer to her. “At least, give me a token to show your favor in the race.”

  Tilting her chin down, she said, “No, I believe you’ll want Caroline’s.”

  “Please,” he insisted. “I’d rather have yours.”

  Her eyes darted to the riders closing the distance. Nervously, she yanked her handkerchief from her sleeve cuff and handed it to him. “Here, now please go.”

  He took the lace-edged cloth and inhaled the lilac scent on it. Putting it in his pocket, he grinned at her. “Thank you, my darlin’ sweet Emma.” And he rode off with a smile.

  #

  The horse racing that day was a competition by elimination. Jack patted his mount’s neck, praising Windswept for their third win. It was down to the final race, and he edged the horse closer to the starting position. Next to him stood Charles’ and Frederick Johnston’s horses. Windswept flicked his tail in anticipation as Jack scanned the crowd for Emma. Oh, he found Caroline without a problem. She sat on a roan-colored mare, a rather placid-looking beast, off to the side, rooting Jack on. His lips tightened. He eyed the crowd again and finally, close to the finish line, with Billy and her father, Emma sat on Angel. Perfect.

  Suddenly, the gun fired, starting the race. The horses leapt into a run, galloping for the line ahead. Jack bent over his horse’s neck, shortening the reins, riding him close. Windswept set the pace and as they got closer to the end, Jack felt a hitch in his horse’s step. He must have picked up Angel’s scent. Natural instinct kicked in fully, increasing Windswept’s speed. As they flew over the finish line in the lead, the crowd roared and clapped, the ladies’ white handkerchiefs fluttering furiously.

  Jack trotted his horse down to a walk as he returned to the finish line. He threw his leg over the saddle and leapt off Windswept, handing the reins to the waiting groom. He was congratulated by the senior Silvers and other gentlemen. Caroline was there, dismounting and excitedly waiting for him. As she jumped up to kiss him on the cheek for winning, Jack laughed but looked for Emma.

  S
till sitting on Angel, she gave him a slight nod. Jack grinned at her fully. Caroline, whose hand had laced under his arm, noticed his sudden grin and realized it wasn’t for her. Turning her head, she found it was for Emma. Her lips thinned. She glared at her sister. How dare she even look at Jack, Caroline fumed to herself. Emma’s eyes caught Caroline’s and her shudder was visible. As she turned Angel’s head, nudging the horse away, her sister’s lips curled derisively.

  Caroline squeezed Jack’s arm, her face turned amiably toward him, pleased his gaze was back on her as it should be. He squeezed back as he gave her a half-hearted smile.

  Jack would have to remember that morning with Emma, as it was the last time he would talk to her, really talk to her, for the rest of the summer. And he soon found himself missing her.

  We have devoured the land and our animals eat up the wheat and corn fields close.

  All the people retire before us and desolation behind. To realize what war is,

  one should follow our tracks.

  -General William T. Sherman, on the campaign near Atlanta, 1864

  Chapter Three

  Caroline stood still in her room while Tilly adjusted the white collar insert in her bodice. As Tilly worked, Caroline’s rage grew because of Emma’s refusal to heed her warning and stay away from Jack Fontaine. He was the man Caroline decided would be hers. A shiver raced through her at the prospect of being Mrs. Jack Fontaine. And the last thing she needed was Emma sidling up to him. Silly girl, she thought. Emma would pay for disobeying her. She pursed her lips, her mind weaving a way to get back at Emma.

  She stared out the front window, watching her father with Charles and Jack ramble down the lane on horseback. They were off to Richmond—for what, she didn’t know or care. Her foot tapped the floor as her patience evaporated.

  “Finish already, Tilly,” she snarled.

  “I’m be almos’ dun, Miss Ca…” Tilly timidly voiced as she struggled with the last flap, but Caroline pulled away from her.

  “Just be gone!”

  Tilly scampered out of the room as Caroline paced. Plans for the day included her going with Emma and their mother to the Williams’. Harrumph! It was the last thing she wanted to do. As she paced, she heard something outside the window. She stopped and stepped closer to it, biting her lower lip.

  Below, Billy Bealke walked to the stable. Her mind flittered at an idea forming, and a slow smile spread across her face. The sound of the bedroom door opening startled her. She grabbed a book lying on her trunk and sat next to the window.

  “Caroline, are you ready?” Her mother said, walking into the room.

  She buried her nose in the book, appearing intent until she realized she had opened it upside down. With a momentary cringe, she slammed the book shut before her mother noticed.

  “Yes, mama?” She asked, masking her surprise in a lazy drawl.

  Margaret Silvers crossed her arms, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at her daughter. “Now you know we’re heading to the Williams’ this morning.”

  Caroline sighed and lowered her shoulders. “Mama, please, I’d rather not go.”

  “Caroline Ann, you know…” her mother argued.

  “I know, mama, I know, but I’m so tired,” she faked a yawn, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Why can I not stay home and rest today?”

  Margaret eyed her daughter warily. Caroline worked hard to effect an exhausted appearance, though without a looking glass, she didn’t know whether it was at all convincing. She watched her mother’s expression slowly soften as she stepped closer, placing her palm on Caroline’s forehead.

  “You don’t feel flush. With your daddy and Charles gone, that leaves Billy the only man here to keep you safe.”

  “Oh, mama, please,” Caroline grunted. “I’m not a child. I just need to be gettin’ some rest, maybe catch up on my correspondence.”

  Cupping her daughter’s chin with her hand, Margaret smiled sympathetically. “All right, dear. I’ll tell Billy to stay till we return, but you be kind to him, you hear me?”

  Caroline gave her mother an innocent look. “Mama, you know I wouldn’t be doin’ anything bad. I like Billy.”

  “We all do, especially your sister,” Margaret said as she turned to leave. “I’ll have Sally make you a tonic to help you rest.”

  Caroline smirked as she watched her mother leave. “Thank you, mama. Tell Mrs. Williams hello for me, you hear?” When the door closed, Caroline’s heart jumped with anticipation. She glanced out the window and saw her mother talk to Billy as he stood next to the carriage. Her smile grew more devious as he assisted her mother into the vehicle. Now Caroline would see just how much Billy Bealke cared for Emma. On many occasions, she had noticed her sister’s shy smile for him. With a grunt, Caroline twisted her lips. They looked like little sweethearts, all quaint and gay. Well, so did she and Jack—until Emma had barged in. Cute, young Emma thinkin’ she could have Caroline’s men made her want to scream. It was her birthday, not Emma’s!

  A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in.”

  The door slowly opened and Tilly stepped in, holding a cup and saucer.

  Caroline looked at her. The tonic. She didn’t need that. “Oh, put that thing down, Tilly,” she ordered as she threw open her armoire doors again. With a yank, she loosed her sky blue satin and velvet riding habit and threw it at the slave. “Here, get me out of this dress and into that,” she ordered.

  Tilly, easily cowed, timidly walked to her. Stupid girl, Caroline thought. But she wouldn’t hit her just for doing her mother’s bidding by bringing the bland tonic for a problem that didn’t exist. The slave started to unfasten the hooks on Caroline’s bodice.

  Within minutes, Caroline was out of her caged crinoline and into the riding habit. Tilly hooked the longer side of the skirt up and fluffed the fabric to make it look a little fuller, though without the hoops, it didn’t stay that way long. Caroline’s patience began to wear thin as Tilly pinned the straw hat on her head.

  As soon as the hatpin went in, Caroline grabbed her gloves and hurried out of the room and down the stairs.

  “Jemmy,” she yelled as she neared the door. The dark young slave boy was at her side. “Go fetch Guinevere and saddle her for me…”

  “Yessum,” he said, hurrying ahead of her to the stables.

  “And be quick about it!”

  It took her a few minutes to round the house to the stables. Her steps slowed and she lifted her chin, swaying her hips as she got closer. Billy stood in the corral, his shirt wet with sweat, his trousers furry with horse hair. Instead of leaving the birthday celebrations to return home and help his father with their farm, he had stayed to work with her father’s colt. Caroline smiled. Billy loved to work with horses.

  “Why Billy Bealke, you’re a sight,” she cooed as she came to the railing.

  He held a ladle in his hand, sipping water from it out of the trough next to the corralled outdoor arena. Seeing her, he quickly replaced the ladle and wiped his mouth with the back of his bare hand. He had such nice hands, large and callused, his fingers long. She shivered.

  “Miss Caroline,” he greeted. Polite and dull. “You thinkin’ about a ride?”

  Jemmy walked up with Guinevere saddled. He offered her the reins and she took them with determination. “Why yes, I was thinkin’ how the air might be better after a ride.” Her voice dropped. “Wanna come with me?”

  Billy looked at her, wiping his hands on his pant legs. A big man, broad shouldered, with a taut chest under that dampened shirt. Through the fabric of his pants, Billy’s legs looked muscular. With dirty blonde hair, brown eyes and a slightly crooked nose, Billy wasn’t exactly handsome, but he wasn’t bad either.

  “Miss Caroline, I thought you were tired or at least, that’s what your mother told me.” His eyes studied her. They looked deeply into her eyes before lowering. Caroline lifted her shoulders back, tilting her breasts toward him and smiled as his eyes fixed on them.

&n
bsp; “I’m feelin’ too locked in,” she drawled.

  “No, I think we need to stay here. Your mama asked me to watch over the place. You know she doesn’t trust the darkies…”

  Her face tightened. “Jemmy,” she called as she stepped to the horse’s side. The slave ran back to her and lifted her onto the sidesaddle.

  “Caroline,” Billy’s voice strained. She loved watching his emotions cross his face, they were so revealing.

  Taking the reins, Caroline said, “Billy, I’m going. If you’re to keep a watch on me, to keep me safe, you best be gettin’ yourself a mount.” As he went for Guinevere’s reins, she backed the mare out of his reach and turned her away.

  Caroline heard Billy curse and storm into the stable. With a satisfied grin, she slowed her mount.

  Within minutes, the thundering hooves caught up to her. Working to erase her broad smile, she glanced at him. “So nice to see you’ve joined me.”

  His lips tightened as he controlled the bay he sat on. “This isn’t funny, Caroline.”

  “Oh, Billy,” she sighed, bringing her hand up to her face and fluttering it like a fan. “I just wanted to go to the water and enjoy the shade.”

  His laugh was hollow as his gaze remained on her. “Okay, but not for long.”

  “Of course not,” she soothed and then nudged her horse into a canter.

  The mid-morning sun dappled the shady grove. Caroline stopped at the riverside and waited for Billy. He rode up behind her, slid off his saddle, and lifted Caroline off hers.

  “Thank you, sir,” she replied sweetly. His eyes locked onto hers, and she wanted to laugh in satisfaction as they turned dark with want. Yanking the hatpin out of her straw bonnet, she threw the hat onto the dock as she turned to the water.