Ashes in the Wind Read online

  Had it not been for the insistent pressure of his body washing away any feelings of confidence, Alaina would have sighed in relief. But this man was far too bold to allow even a small measure of comfort. Moments before she had thought herself knowledgeable about men, but now, as Cole laid his hand upon her buttock and pressed her to him, she became acutely conscious of her innocence. The instinct to snatch away from the alien hardness was almost overwhelming. Yet a well-versed lady of the night would hardly react in shock or refuse to kiss a customer. Though this path certainly did not lead where she wished to go, she could find no way out.

  Resolutely Alaina raised on her toes to meet his lips and saw his blue eyes translucent in the ghostly moonlight, his lean and handsome features starkly etched. A strange feeling, until this moment unknown to her, fluttered within her breast, and she was halted for a brief passing of time by the flood of excitement that surged through her. With renewed determination, she forced it down; she would answer him quickly, then go.

  She found her lips entrapped with his, and though they were soft and gentle, they flamed with a fiery heat that warmed her whole body. Her eyes closed and the strength of his embrace, the brandy taste of his mouth, the hard pressure of his loins made her all too aware that this was a strong, living, healthy man, that he was treating her like a woman, indeed desiring her. Her head swam as he drew back slightly, and she wondered vaguely if she might swoon. In the quiet moment that passed between them, she tried to still the violent tremor that had seized her.

  “You do overwhelm a girl, Captain,” she breathed unsteadily. “But, really, I must go now.”

  Suddenly he was frowning down at her. “Not—another?”

  Alaina stared at him, confused, until the sudden realization dawned. She blushed furiously but managed to give him a tantalizing taste of the velvet laugh. “Of course not, Captain. But I do have other duties, you know.”

  Cole’s scowl relaxed, and he gathered her to him again impatiently. Her arms found no place to rest, and hesitantly Alaina laid them around his bare neck.

  “Another sip,” he murmured against her ear and brushed warm kisses along her throat, “then perhaps I will let you go.”

  The fool! the back of her mind smirked. He had chastened and dragged her about these past few weeks, finding no trace of womanhood. Well, she would give his besotted mind a taste of that unseen twit.

  Almost eagerly Alaina came full against him, little realizing the devastating effect her softly clad body had on him. Cole’s arms crushed her to him, and his mouth turned across hers, invading, demanding, taking hers with a sensual, leisure thoroughness. His hand slipped up to cup her head while he greedily devoured her moist, yielding lips. He felt the shortness of her silken hair, the stirring pressure of soft, round breasts against his chest, and even in his befuddled state, he ached to sample this woman more thoroughly.

  Alaina’s mind reeled from the intoxicating potion of his passionate kiss. The trembling weakness in her limbs attested to its potency. His head raised slightly, and his tongue passed slowly along her parted lips, then penetrated to softly search, slowly, languidly possess. The odor of brandy filled her brain, and reality retreated from her grasp. She felt no need to struggle. He would be sated soon, she rationalized naively, and he could wait the night out in his bed. For this moment, she nestled in those all-encompassing, wished-for arms, and the long-suppressed woman in her was free to enjoy the embrace of a man. Not just any man, but Cole Latimer.

  Cole loosened his crushing vise, and Alaina found she had to lean against him for support. His lips brushed her temple and pressed ardently upon her throat. He moved, and Alaina suddenly realized his arms were inside her robe and that the garment gaped open, offering her no further protection. The tie belt had been neatly slipped, and the only thing between them was the thin batiste nightgown. His thigh rubbed familiarly against her own, while his hands dipped low to caress the soft hollow of her back.

  Reason flooded back to Alaina. Turning slightly, she slipped her arm downward, inside of his, then with her elbow she held away his arm. She twisted the other way until her shoulder pressed against his hard chest, freeing her own hands to counter his. Before she could react, his hand moved upward and cupped her breast, his fingers teasing the soft crest beneath the cloth as his head dipped downward toward it.

  Smothering a shocked gasp, Alaina stepped away from him, at the same time catching both his hands, pushing them against his chest, and patting them gently as if to make them stay there.

  “Captain Latimer, your eagerness astounds me. To the bed, Captain, and have another drink. Rest assured I will fly to you in but a moment’s passing. But for now, I must go.”

  A half frown, half smile crossed his face. “I have no knowledge where your duties call you, girl, but I daresay they will wait. But right now”—Alaina saw the hard, flintlike gleam in his eyes—“I must have you.”

  His arms swooped her up, and in a single lunge, they were on the bed. Alaina started violently as her gown came up, and her bare thigh brushed the scorching heat of his manhood. They had not stopped bouncing on the mattress before she rolled and came to her feet on the far side. She had every intention to keep right on going, but her breath was jerked from her abruptly as he halted her flight. The skirt of her robe was firmly twisted in Cole’s grasp, while the top cut into her shoulders. Desperately Alaina shrugged and yanked one arm free, meaning to leave the whole of it behind. But the wicked garment whipped tightly about her other arm and held her prisoner where she stood. Now, with definite panic rising, she crouched and braced her feet against his effort to bring her back. Cole was on his back and could not gain leverage to draw her nearer. Frantically Alaina yanked at the twisted fabric with her free hand, while Cole fought to disengage his arm from the tangled sheet.

  “Captain, please,” Alaina begged, managing to keep her voice from betraying her alarm. “There will be plenty of time later. Let me go for just this moment.” Her arm was almost free, and she took heart. “Rest assured, Milord Yankee,” she cajoled in the warmest tones, “I shall return to you as soon as my tasks permit.”

  The robe slipped. She was free! But so was he!! His arm flashed out, catching her above the elbow with a strength she had not thought was possible in those lean, well-scrubbed hands. Though she pried at his fingers, she could not escape, and purposefully he drew her toward him. The betraying robe, having spent its effort to the utmost, fell to the floor. Slowly Alaina was pulled downward until she lay upon him, her tensed thighs twisting to escape the pressure of that bold blade of passion which seared her through the weblike thinness of her gown. His head dipped, and through the straining cloth, his lips toyed hungrily with the soft peak of her breast. The single tie at the neck snapped, and the top split open, spilling the full glory of her bosom before him. His mouth, hot and moist, traced a molten path across the soft, heaving mounds, and Alaina’s breath caught as he lazily caressed the nipples with his tongue. A shuddering excitement passed through her, and the strength ebbed from her limbs. Weakly she sank upon him, and Cole rolled to bring her beneath him. Raising his head, he stared down into her eyes and smiled slowly.

  “Madam, I will have you now.”

  Alaina shook her head in frantic denial. Some fear mixed with the awesome pleasure of the hard body pressing down upon hers. “I must go,” she protested breathlessly and, in a half sob, again whispered, “I must go.”

  “Nay, girl. I will have you now. I have paid the night away, and ‘tis my right.”

  Though she made no gain in her struggle to preserve her modesty, Alaina seized upon his words with new hope. She tried to push her gown down below her hips again, but his hand was in the way, caressing her flat belly and wandering over her hips and thighs with the boldness that made her quake.

  “But therein lies my cause, Captain,” she whispered urgently, knowing he had no purse or anything else to barter with. “You have not paid.”

  Cole frowned at her, then glanced back over his shou
lder. No sign of his clothes. If he freed her now, she would fly. And he wanted her in a most desperate way. As a thought came to him, he tugged the gold chain and its medallion from over his head and held it before her eyes. “This is worth more than thrice your cost. It will be my security.”

  “No! I cannot!” Alaina gasped, but he slipped the chain over her head. The warmth of the medal seared her breast. “Please. Captain, I beg you—”

  “Cole,” he murmured, his lips hovering closely above hers.

  “Please, Captain—I can’t!”

  “Cole!” His whisper was insistent.

  “Cole.” Her own whisper was filled with dread.

  He smiled and closed the distance between them in a wink. A blinding madness seized Alaina as he grew more purposeful. He lowered his hips between her thighs, and her eyes widened at the burning heat of his maleness. That blunt hardness touched her intimately, intruding upon the privacy of her soft, woman’s flesh.

  “Oh!” she moaned in a strangled voice, afraid of that which probed with gentle but unrelenting pressure at the tight, resisting flesh. She heaved beneath him and strained against the broad, expanse of chest. “Cole, listen to me—”

  A burning pain exploded in her loins, and there was a sense of fullness as he plunged deep within. Alaina pressed her face against the base of his neck, biting her lip until she tasted blood, while tears of pain trickled down her cheeks unheeded. Then his hungering mouth searched out her lips, and he kissed her with a long, leisured thoroughness until the ache of the intrusion began to subside. He did not rush, but savored each passing moment of pleasure, and in the waiting, a strange new, budding ecstasy began to bloom and grow within Alaina, a feeling which she could neither quench nor deny. His tarrying attacked her senses; the throbbing heat of him warmed her, and she began to respond to his wild, ardent kisses. Her arms crept about him, and her tongue played timidly with his. She was not even aware of the precise moment he began to move; it seemed all so effortless on his part. But suddenly she was incapable of reason! She arched against him and met his consuming passion instinctively and with a raging fire of her own. Each thrust, now forceful and hard, brought her to a new plateau of pleasure, and each level was so completely filled with bliss she was sure she could go no higher. Yet higher did she go—and higher—and higher. Her world tore itself free of restraint and soared on to almost unbearable joy. His hoarse, ragged breathing echoed the pounding thunder of his heartbeat, and the fierce, wild fervor swept them on and on. They were two beings blended together in a whirling eddy of passion, yet set apart from the world and soaring on effortless wings. He groaned aloud and her lips returned to possess his. Somewhere she had lost the fumbling uncertainty of innocence, and was driven by licking flames of desire. Lips and bodies were merged in a fiery fusion that touched to the depths of their souls and left them spent cinders that drifted on the wind and settled ever so slowly back to earth.

  Much later, everything drifted back into place. Cole knew a much-needed release for his mind and body, and though there was no strength left in his limbs, he sought to hold fast to this moment in time lest he lose some portion of it to the oncoming forces of sleep. But its relentless pursuit wore at him, and he felt himself drifting away, losing contact with reality.

  Alaina’s mind came together from the nether ends of the universe where it had fled until she was again aware and knew that she lay nestled against a warm, hard body. His arm was flung across her, and his breath stirred the wispy curls upon her brow.

  “Cole?” she murmured, half awake, then in the next millionth of a second, Alaina MacGaren realized full well what she had done. She! Herself! That bright-born daughter of the Confederacy had brazenly bedded a Yankee officer!

  A shriek of anguish tore itself from her lips before she could strangle it. She threw off the sheltering arm with a snarl and, coming to her knees, struck Cole’s shoulder with the heel of her hand, rolling him onto his back, but the best she got from him was an incoherent mutter. He had tumbled deeply into that same heavy slumber she had earlier sought for him.

  Choking on angry sobs, she clasped the torn gown over her bosom and snatched up her robe. At the door, she glared back through brimming tears to where he lay sprawled naked on the bed, then weeping bitterly, dashed from the chamber, not caring that she left the door half open behind her. Her own room offered shelter and familiarity. Within her bed, she burrowed deep beneath the covers, curled into a tight ball, jamming a pillow tightly over her ears. There, in absolute exhaustion, she sobbed out her dismay; and much sooner than she would have guessed, the sweet peace of slumber overtook her.

  Roberta had roused when a shriek penetrated her sleep, and she had groggily opened her door just as the portal down the hall was flung open. The pale glow of Alaina’s gown had been sheathed momentarily in moonlight as the girl paused in the doorway of the guest room, then the younger cousin had fled weeping to her own room. The muffled sobs drifted back, arousing Roberta’s curiosity no small amount.

  Roberta lit a lamp and made her way to the door her cousin had left open. Her hand flew to her throat as she saw the long, male form lying on the bed. His face was turned away, but his furred chest rose and fell in heavy slumber. The room reeked of brandy, and she found the evidence of its use on the bedside table where the decanter and glass had been left. Cautiously Roberta moved closer until the light cast its glow upon the bed, until the dark specks of blood marring the bleached whiteness of the linen sheets became blatantly obvious to her.

  Why, the little tart’s been bedded! Roberta’s bosom trembled as she laughed to herself. Then a gasp of horror was wrenched from her as she suddenly recognized the slumbering one. Captain Cole Latimer!

  The tramp! Vicious rage welled up within her. She’s gone behind my back and taken him! The bitch! She’s had him! And he was mine! Mine!

  Oh, how she yearned for vengeance! She wanted to rake her nails across the girl’s visage, to slap the thin cheeks until they were red and raw. She almost ran to Alaina’s room then, to snatch the younger woman from her bed, but the small spots of blood made her pause. Thoughtfully she stared at them, and her mind began to race. This might be her chance to set a snare for the captain. If he was drunk, as he must have been to bed the twit, he might not remember everything that had happened when he woke in the morning. And if he did and made a protest?

  No matter, she smiled smugly. Daddy will take care of that.

  She put out the light and cast her gown carelessly to the floor. She snuggled against Cole’s firm chest. He did not rouse, and Roberta’s eyes gleamed over her own shrewdness. Alaina had solved all her problems, even to the point of leaving evidence of departed purity.

  Chapter 12

  AN enraged bellow shattered Cole’s slumber. He blinked red-rimmed eyes at the dimly lit room, then suddenly meaty fists were pummeling about his head. More than a little stunned at this attack and completely disoriented, he threw up his arms to protect himself lest the blinding pain within his brain split it asunder. All manner of vile names and curses were hurled down upon him, and through the epithets, he could hear a shrill, discordant screeching of a woman. The whole of it was most effective in jangling the raw ends of his nerves. But that was not the end of his torture, for the man’s fingers clawed feverishly at his throat and began to squeeze.

  “Daddy! Don’t!” the woman’s voice wailed and grew more piercing. “Listen to me, Daddy! Please!”

  Of a sudden, Cole was fed up with this nonsense. With the back of his arm, he flung off his assailant. Angus, being not well known as a teetotaler and having imbibed considerably at the rally, tottered halfway across the room before he regained his balance. He stared in wide-eyed rage, yet some ray of reason penetrated his brain. He gave up the idea of killing the Yankee with his bare hands. By damned, he would get his gun!

  Cole watched the man dash from the room, then slumped wearily against the pillows, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples as he sought to ease the throbbing ac
he that bloomed there. Gingerly he felt at the long lump on his head, wincing as he touched a particularly tender spot. From beneath sandpaper lids, his eyes came upon Roberta who clutched nothing more than a quilt over her nakedness. It was a full moment before everything began to dawn.

  Muttering a curse, he sat up and glanced about him. The stained sheet caught his eyes, and his mind rebeled. What the hell had he done?

  He had no time to find a logical explanation, for Angus Craighugh came charging through the door, clutching an oversize Colt revolver. The man stopped a pace away from the bed and, seizing the piece in both hands, struggled to pull back the heavy hammer.

  “Say your prayers!” Angus bellowed, his dewlap aflap. “You—you child molester!”

  “Just a damn moment!” Cole barked, his own rage mounting. He came to his feet, the sheet snarled around his hips. He didn’t have any idea how all this had happened, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to get shot lying down. He couldn’t very well deny what he had done during the night; the blood on the sheets gave evidence of that, and from his muddled memory came the remembrance of a woman warm and vibrant beneath him. But there his confusion mushroomed. He found difficulty fitting the shape to Roberta. Her dark eyes lowered shyly before the onslaught of his stare, and the evidence was overwhelming even to him.

  “Angus, no! You can’t!” Leala pleaded. “Think of our daughter’s reputation! The Yankees will have it spread abroad before light. And they’ll hang you besides.”

  Roberta struggled with the blanket in an effort to maintain her modesty, but finally made herself heard. “He promised to marry me, Daddy. And I love him.”

  Cole looked at her sharply, wondering what stupidity he had babbled in the night, but Angus’s frenzy was renewed.

  “A Yankee!”

  “Angus, calm down,” the usually flustered Leala cautioned. “Remember your dyspepsia! You’ll be in bed for a week.”