Beguiled Page 10

  “I…I…pissed the bed.” My face flamed.

  Alice laughed. “No you didn’t, darling.” Her fingers continued to plunder me slowly. “I made you gush. It’s not piss. See?”

  She withdrew her fingers and held them under my nose. I expected the acrid bite of urine. Instead, the fragrance smelled honey sweet.

  “See?” Alice asked again. Her fingers returned to my tingling clitoris where she slowly caressed me as she kissed her way up my body. “I’m going to do that to you every time.” Her lips nipped at my breasts and then higher where she sucked at the hollow on the side of my neck.

  She lifted her head and looked into my eyes. Her hand stopped moving. “This feels right with you, Belle. I know what people say and what they think about me, but you…you accepted me—all of me, just as I am.”

  “Did I?”

  She nodded. “No one has ever just allowed me to just be me. No one but you.”

  I stared.

  She continued. “I have to be honest. It scares the hell out of me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…because I love you so much…and I know that when this war is over, things will change,” she whispered. Tears rimmed her eyes. She sniffed.

  I caressed her cheek, loving the smooth, warm softness against my palm. “Why does anything have to change?”

  The hand between my legs moved to my waist. “I’m afraid that when the men come back, that you’ll…you’ll get tired of me, that you’ll want to remarry.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. I hadn’t thought of anything but her or past anything than here and now. But I did know I couldn’t imagine my future without her in it. “Alice, I don’t want to remarry. I want to be with you. Always.”

  Her eyes searched mine for a moment as if she was trying to discern my veracity, and then her mouth claimed my mouth, hard and hungry. Our teeth clashed. Our tongues mated, and I tasted the sweetness of my own cream. My heart soared.

  Trembling, I realized Alice was the safe haven I’d sought all my life.

  I covered her hand with mine and pushed it back down, between my breasts, over my belly, farther. Her fingers burrowed into my thatch, but instead of delving into my cunny, she wet her fingertips and explored lower.

  Startled, I jolted. “What are you doing?” No one had ever touched me there in a sexual manner.

  “Shh,” she whispered. “Spread your legs. I want to show you all the pleasure your body has to offer.”

  “But—”

  “Get on your knees again,” she ordered.

  My pulse quickened. And when I didn’t immediately comply, she lifted my knee with one hand and landed a firm swat to the side of my ass cheek.

  I squirmed with renewed desire, but I rolled over and pushed up on my knees, leaving my head down on my pillows. My channel clenched around its own emptiness.

  Alice knelt, settling in behind me.

  “Don’t hurt me,” I murmured.

  Another sharp smack landed on my bottom. I groaned at the curious mixture of pleasure and pain.

  She coated her fingers liberally with the excess wetness between my legs, and then she slowly circled my rosette with her fingertip. That part of me came alive, wanting—needing—her inside. I actually found myself rocking into her hand, pushing back. Until—

  Her finger breached the rim, and white-hot pain seared my most private opening. “Alice,” I whimpered.

  “Relax.”

  “Alice, I can’t—”

  She popped my backside with her free hand and thrust her finger all the way inside my anus. My rim released slightly, and the pain subsided as I adjusted to the fullness entrenched within me.

  “I knew you’d like that,” she whispered, moving her finger in and out of my nether hole the way she did in my cunny.

  I braced my knees and opened them as far as I could. It did feel good. Really good. And extremely taboo. I couldn’t believe I agreed to allow this.

  The candle prodded my cunny again, and I sucked in a breath when she pushed it inside me. Candle in, finger out. Finger in, candle out. Over and over, she worked me in a rhythm. I felt whole. Complete.

  Harder and faster.

  I was lost to the overwhelming sensations. To her.

  And when I quickened, the walls of my sheath clamped down so hard, they pushed the candle out. My anus clamped down around Alice’s finger. She dropped the candle and wrested more pleasure from me by rubbing my clit. I withstood it as long as I could, and then I wilted on the drenched mattress.

  Jolts of ecstasy shot through my body over and over. All the while, Alice peppered every inch of me with kisses, telling me between each brush of her lips how much she loved me.

  * * *

  I awakened to the sound of riders—several riders—thundering up the drive.

  From the window, I watched as dozens—no, hundreds—of Yankees rode and marched up the drive through the early dawn fog. Not again.

  Alice raised her head and blinked sleepily. “What is it?”

  “Yankees.”

  Before I could don my dressing gown, one pounded on the front door. Fear struck that they were here to burn the place. With a prayer they wouldn’t find the goat herd, I raced down the stairs and yelled through the barricaded door. “What do you want?” I demanded, still buttoning my robe.

  “Open up, ma’am.”

  “No.”

  “Open the door, or we’ll burn the house down around you,” he called back.

  Through the windows flanking the door, I saw several Yankees already bearing torches. The tall Yankee on the porch waved his arms at his men and issued orders to surround the house. Fury raged as I pulled off the heavy board we’d put in place to keep the bushwhackers out. I yanked open the door and blocked the threshold with my body. “I’ve already made an agreement with the officer who came before you.”

  “What agreement?” He didn’t bother removing his slouch hat as he shouldered past me into the foyer. Others followed, and I stood by helplessly as they pilfered through my things. Outraged, I watched as a wiry Yankee jammed one of Pa’s snuffboxes into his pocket. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying what I was thinking.

  Forcing my feet to move, I trailed after the Yankee in charge. “The other officer told me if I took in two of his wounded, then he would leave me the house.”

  He turned to me. “Where are these wounded?”

  Recalling Alice shooting the dying man, I lowered my gaze. “One died.” Somehow, I mustered the sense not to tell him we’d buried the man.

  “And the other one?”

  I gulped.

  “Right here, sir.” Alice’s voice rang out with authoritative flare. She stood on the stairs dressed in some of Dalton’s clothes. She gave him a smart salute. “Private Al O’Malley.”

  At that, the officer rocked back on his heels. He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. I didn’t like the way his gaze raked up and down Alice’s body.

  “Well, well,” he said. “I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”

  “Sir?” Alice asked as she limped the rest of the way down the steps.

  “You’re that girl the Seventeenth New York left behind, aren’t you?”

  “Yes sir.”

  He let out a hearty laugh. “Thought you’d have a chuckle at our expense, did you, missy?”

  Alice’s dark eyebrows knitted together in the center. “No sir. I did not. I merely sought to preserve the Union and see the slaves were freed just as you and all these other fine soldiers intended.”

  He grimaced. “Most of us Ohio boys signed up for the payroll. Not for any highfalutin notions such as yours, girlie.”

  I expected Alice to lash out at the Yankee colonel. Instead, she gnawed her bottom lip and bore a stare into him.

  “Colonel Schwarz,” one of the other Yankees called.

  At least now, he had a name, I thought.

  “We found something buried at the edge of the cotton field,” the
freckle-faced Yankee boy said.

  “The other wounded man died,” Alice said quickly. “He was shot up pretty rough in the guts.”

  My gaze darted back and forth between Alice and the colonel. Some strange bleak darkness descended over me. I knew something terrible was about to happen but didn’t know what.

  “Is that the wounded man’s grave?” Schwarz asked.

  Alice inhaled. “Yes.”

  Schwarz turned to two soldiers. “Go and dig him up. A good many of these seceshes are hiding valuables in graves.”

  I glanced at Alice. A cold shiver ran up my spine. I hoped the body had been interred long enough for sufficient decomposition—and that the bullet wound in his head would not be apparent. I knew better.

  The two men trudged through the house, leaving mud on my hall runner in their wake. Others swarmed up the stairs.

  “Wait!” I cried, but Colonel Schwarz placed two paws on my shoulders.

  “You just hold your horses,” he said.

  “Surely you wouldn’t violate a lady’s private rooms,” I tried to reason with him.

  He snarled a smile. “We’re on a foraging raid. And you might have provisions my boys need to continue on.”

  I wrenched free of his grasp. “I have absolutely nothing in this house for your men.”

  “She’s right,” Alice interjected. “They don’t have anything left. The Confederates came through and took all the livestock and any foodstuffs. About a month ago, a gang of bushwhackers held them up for any valuables.”

  “Is that true?” Schwarz stared me down hard.

  “Yes, it’s true!” I spat back with all the verve of an angry cat.

  His gaze slid down to my breasts. “You don’t look like you’re starving.”

  The gall! After I’d lost everything but my home, his smug smirk infuriated me. I clenched my fists to keep from slapping him. Without warning, Alice pushed between us. “I told you there’s not anything here but my weapons, and whether you agree with what I’ve done or not, at least leave me a way to protect myself.”

  Schwarz’s beady eyes darted between Alice and me, and for a moment, I thought he suspected we were lovers. Just as his lips parted to speak, a voice came from the back of the house.

  “Colonel Schwarz! Come here at once!”

  My heart sank straight to my bare toes. I curled my hand around Alice’s arm, but Schwarz seized me and hauled me toward the back of the house.

  “Let loose of her,” Alice scolded. “That’s not necessary.”

  My face blanched when I saw the soldiers had dragged up a tarp. On it lay the bloated corpse of the dead Yankee. Dirt covered most of his face and clothes, but darker than the grime was the dried blood in his matted hair. My insides hollowed as the awful memory of the gun’s blast and the terror upon finding him dead seeped through my soul—but worse—Alice had killed him. My Alice.

  I glanced at Uncle Hewlett. His face remained stoic as always, but I detected the worried look in his dark gold eyes. He knew what I did. If Alice were a man, they’d let her go. But Alice was not a man. She was a woman who had obviously found herself at home among the enemy.

  “Sir—” Alice began.

  “He was dying,” Uncle Hewlett interrupted. His voice boomed over the din of blabbering Yankees. “He begged me to put him out of his misery. I shot him with his own pistol and then buried him in the backyard. The ladies knew nothing about how he died.”

  Alice gaped.

  I couldn’t breathe. The Yankees would hang Uncle Hewlett for this as surely as they hanged my father. Why was he doing this? Why would he lie?

  Alice stepped in front of the colonel. “He’s lying. I shot that man. The bastards who left us here didn’t leave us a drop of laudanum. The man was dying like a dog, and I thought he deserved the dignity of a quick death.”

  Uncle Hewlett waved his hand at Alice in calm dismissal. “When she arrived here, her leg was wounded so badly she couldn’t even get out of bed. Do you really think a woman had the fortitude to take a man’s life?” His voice never wavered as he continued. “Would you fault me, Colonel, for carrying out a dying man’s wish?”

  “Quite the orator, aren’t you?” Schwarz asked.

  As I suspected he would, Uncle Hewlett seized the opportunity to quote the bard. “‘Virtue is bold and goodness never fearful.’”

  A spark of admiration glimmered in Schwarz’s eyes. “Measure for Measure. Act III, Scene I.”

  Alice pushed between them, turning her back to Uncle Hewlett as if she could protect him from the blue mob surrounding us. “I killed that man. I give you my word as a soldier.”

  Schwarz and all those in earshot laughed. “As a soldier?” he asked, incredulous.

  Alice’s shoulders squared. “For a year, I wore this uniform and completed every task I was assigned. I was wounded helping an injured man to the rear of the lines. If I were a man, you would have given me a medal. But because I’m a woman, you jeer at me and dismiss me. You won’t dismiss me now, Colonel.”

  Alice, no…

  “These people had a gentleman’s agreement with Lieutenant Leatz that Union forces would not burn their home if they agreed to take in the wounded which consisted of this man and…and me,” Alice told him. “This was done without hesitation. Both of us were treated with fairness and respect. Everything possible was done to ease our suffering, and when it became apparent to me that the private could no longer withstand his pain, I fired a single shot into his head and ended his life.”

  My heart sank.

  Alice went on. “Do what you like with me, but leave these people their home and their dignity.” Her voice cracked. “Because they’ve certainly treated me with dignity.”

  Unchecked tears streamed down my cheeks.

  “Very well,” Schwarz said to two soldiers nearby. “Take her into custody. We’ll let the fellows in Atlanta decide what to do with her.”

  I seized the colonel’s arm. “What’ll they do to her?”

  He brushed me off. “Try her, I suppose.”

  “But—”

  Alice gripped my arm. “It’s all right, Belle. I’ll be all right.”

  But I would not. I couldn’t let her leave. I couldn’t live without her. I shook my head. Heart breaking, I searched her eyes. “What’ll they do to you if you’re found…guilty?”

  She lowered her lashes. “I don’t know.” Her hand slid down my arm, and her fingers tangled fleetingly with mine.

  I wanted to grab her hand and hold on. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and refuse to let them take her.

  This was as nightmarish as losing the field hands, Dalton, Pa, and Grayson all over again. Grief welled with a raw edge.

  “May I have a moment alone with her?” Alice asked Schwarz.

  “Make it fast. We have to move out.”

  Alice took my hand and led me out of earshot of the others. I stumbled along behind her, blinded by my tears. They would hang her just like they hanged Pa. I knew it, and worse, I knew that she knew it. She was protecting my home. She was protecting Ma and Uncle Hewlett and the goats—and me. But right now, all I cared about was her.

  “I want you to keep my pistol,” she said. “It’s upstairs under the mattress. I’ll make sure the army doesn’t take it.”

  I didn’t want to hear anything about a pistol. I wanted to hear her say she would never leave me. Panic closed in with sickening force. “Don’t do this. I’ll tell them I shot the wounded Yankee. I’ll tell them the bushwhackers did it. Anything. Alice, please.”

  She swept a loose strand of my hair off my forehead. “It’s all right. They’ll ask me what happened. I’ll tell them. They’ll let me go, and I’ll come back to you. I swear it.”

  “Then let me go with you,” I begged.

  She shook her head. “You can’t leave Uncle Hewlett here to manage the herd and Ma.”

  She was right, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it.

  “Atlanta’s not thirty miles from here,” she reas
oned. “Perhaps I can get some provisions and bring them back. Is there anything you would like? Some sweets perhaps?”

  “Don’t talk to me about candy when your life is at stake.”

  “Trust me, Belle.” She whispered the words, low and calm.

  I struggled to keep from sobbing.

  She caressed my cheek. “Tell me you trust me.”

  I swallowed. “I trust you.” But I didn’t trust those Yankees. And I damn sure didn’t trust fate.

  “I’ll come back to you,” she said, and then she crushed me in an embrace and pressed her lips to my forehead. “I’ll come back to you, Belle.”

  Chapter Seven

  The manacles had rubbed Alice’s wrists raw by the time she and the two soldiers escorting her to Atlanta had traveled fifteen miles from Rattle and Snap. While the two soldiers rode mules, Alice staggered along behind, tethered to one of the men.

  The dull ache in her leg had become a full-fledged searing pain. Sweat rolled down her face and stung her eyes. Her shirt clung to her back. Blisters burned her heels and toes. Her back muscles spasmed. Her dry mouth tasted of road dust kicked up by the mules.

  But none of her misery compared to the look in Belle’s eyes as she, Alice, had been led away from Rattle and Snap in chains.

  “Fellows,” Alice called. “Do you really think manacles are necessary?”

  No answer.

  Alice inhaled sharply. “Hey, how about a little water?”

  The younger of the two, a black-haired Scot, glanced back at her. “There’s a creek just up ahead.”

  Thank God.

  The sun was setting, and they might decide to make camp for the night. If she could get them to remove these manacles, then maybe she could escape. Already, Alice had it all figured out. She could stay in the barn with the goats until the Yankees moved out. Then, as much as she hated to, she could grow her hair back out and don a damn dress as a disguise if she had to. She snorted. She wouldn’t do it for anybody else but Belle.

  They covered another couple of miles before the two Yanks reined in the mules. They threaded their way down an incline through the brush and brambles to the bank of a creek. As soon as the soldiers dismounted, Alice made eye contact with the Scot and held up the manacles. “Please?”