Rebel by Heather Graham
He leaned a foot against a rock and drew from his pocket the letter he had just received from his brother last night. Julian was practicing in St. Augustine again, and according to him, the city seemed to be as electrically charged as a lightning storm.
Hello, brother!
Just a quick letter to advise you that I am resituated, that your wife has convalesced exceptionally in my learned opinion, and that Jerome reports everyone safe and well in the southern section of the state. There’s a flurry about, though, as you can imagine.
As you’re well aware, both Governor Perry and Governor-elect Milton are ardent secessionists, and our senators, Yulee and Mallory, are becoming more and more overt in their determinations that Florida bases must be wrested from Federal hands with all speed. It’s as if a secession ordinance has already been passed—of course, it will be so.
Saw Mother and Father last week. Neither is pleased with the state of affairs, and Mother is trying to keep Father’s roar—and damned honorable honesty!—down to a low level. They are somewhat removed at Cimarron, being fairly far along the river from Tampa Bay, and we can only hope that whatever comes to pass within the state will leave our home untouched. You cannot imagine, however, how news of South Carolina’s secession was celebrated here; when the state does leave the fold, I can only say that there will be mayhem.
How does my fair sister-in-law do without me? Tell her I miss so lovely a patient—my most recent medical prowess has been to extract a bullet from a hopeless young militiaman who shot his own foot. Hope all is well there; Alaina is in good hands with our cousin Brent. Assure her that Jennifer tends Teddy’s lime grove with love and care. We eagerly await the news of a nephew or niece—and of course, any decision you may make regarding the military.
Julian
He tapped the letter against his leg, folded it, and returned it to the pocket of his frock coat. Another man, dressed in a lieutenant’s stripes, walked by him, started to salute, hesitated, then did so. “I imagine, sir, that your rank will remain higher than mine in the new army!” the fellow said, smiling and passing quickly by.
Ian stared out at the harbor again, then closed his eyes, as if he could imprint the peace and beauty of the scene on his mind. Then he turned away from the water and started back to the inn.
His cousins and wife were there, and had ordered dark roasted coffee to the balcony along with biscuits and gravy and scones. They were seated at the table. Alaina looked troubled, but she offered him a smile as he came around the table to join them. He stood behind her for a moment, lifted the heavy fall of hair, and kissed her nape gently. “Merry Christmas,” he told her huskily.
“Merry Christmas,” she told him gravely in return.
“Services are in forty-five minutes,” Sydney advised. “We should hurry along, since I’m quite certain, being Christmas, every erring sinner in all Charleston will be seeking entrance.”
“Sydney, how cynical!” Ian teased.
“Ummm, we’re bringing you, aren’t we?” she murmured sweetly.
Alaina laughed, and the sound was sweet.
But she maintained a strange expression as she watched him that morning, and even as he slipped his arm through hers, escorting her as they walked the distance to the Episcopal church.
The sermon was on revolution. The priest spoke constantly on the subject of “If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out,” saying if the Union had become offensive, then it must be thrust far from them, their stance must be strong against the forces that might oppose freedom in South Carolina. There was a great deal of cheering; Christmas services, Ian reflected dryly, seemed to have very little to do with the birth of Christ, and everything to do with an extension of the secession celebrations.
As they walked back to the hotel, Alaina asked him, “Ian, how can you begrudge these people their enthusiasm for freedom and self-rule?”
He hesitated; it was Christmas. He wanted it to be a day of warmth and goodwill. To all men. And women.
Including his wife.
“I’ll answer you that, Alaina, and then I’m going to refuse to argue with you. There is a fault line in all this; a schism. The whole of the civilized world is seeing the barbarism of slavery. If the states’ rights of the South are centered around the right to hold another man as a slave, then the South sits upon an archaic and decaying institution from the start. I begrudge no one, though I differ with the priest’s assertion that God will be on the side of freedom—God will turn from this fratricide. You know my mind, and that is that.”
“What of my mind, Ian?” she asked him softly.
“You’re my wife, Alaina. Support me,” he suggested broodingly.
Surely she noted his tone. But her eyes were suddenly downcast, and she didn’t reply.
“You do remember that you’re at my mercy, eh, my love?” he queried.
That brought a quick, fiery gaze from her. “Perhaps not for so very long to come!” she informed him.
“Oh?”
“The babe is nearly due, Ian.”
“Ah. So that’s it? You need only be obedient to my will if you’re expecting a child?”
“Of course not—”
“Hmmm. You never intend to be obedient to my will at all; you only find yourself at my mercy at such times as these!” he said, and laughed softly, but he wasn’t so certain he was truly amused. “I’ll have to keep you with child at all times in order for any hopes of sanity in my household, so it seems.”
Her eyes flashed again, but before she could reply, Sydney swung around. “Alaina, are we walking too quickly for you?”
“Not at all,” Alaina returned.
And she quickened her pace, catching up with Sydney, but Ian drew her back.
“Behave. It’s Christmas.”
“But Ian—”
“It’s Christmas.”
She was silent.
“Well?”
“Merry Christmas, Ian,” she said sweetly. And he laughed, drawing her against him once again and allowing her to choose the pace as they walked.
When they returned to the inn, they sat in the public room for dinner, listened to the traditional Christmas songs performed by a talented group of musicians, and talked idly among themselves. It might have been an extremely pleasant day, a beautiful Christmas.
Except that a cloud hung over the city. Ian wondered if he was the only one who felt its malevolent presence. When they were alone that night, Ian presented Alaina with his gift to her. It was a wedding band, delicate, with beautifully etched gold and small topaz insets. She sat before the dressing table, brushing out her hair. He took her hand, and the brush from it, then took the oversized ring he had placed on her finger at her wedding and replaced it with the delicate new band, which slid perfectly into place.
She stared at it for a very long while, then into his eyes, and her lips trembled slightly, and her voice was soft and shaky as well. “It’s… beautiful. Thank you.”
She came to her feet, attempting to kiss him, and rather awkwardly doing so, with the babe quite prominent between them. Still, the whisper of her lips against his was evocative; as always, her scent was equally tantalizing to him. As if somewhat dazed, she looked from his eyes to her finger, and back again. “Ian… thank you.”
“The jeweler told me that I should use diamonds, and if not, emeralds or rubies. I told him no. The topaz was just like your eyes.”
“The topaz is perfect!” she whispered, then spun away, digging into her drawer. She brought out a box with an English packing insignia on it, handing it to him. “It’s not anywhere so beautiful or valuable,” she told him, those eyes which he had compared to topaz so brilliant upon his own. “But I did make it.”
He arched a brow, then opened the package and pulled out the soft folds of plaid wool in it to discover a large and handsomely hemmed scarf.
“It’s the McKenzie plaid,” she told him. “And very warm, so I’ve been told. If you must spend time in the North.”
He
“Very warm,” he said huskily. “And greatly appreciated.” He smiled. “Naturally, my father would appreciate such an appropriate gift as well.”
She started to smile, but her smile faded, and he remembered suddenly that it was her first Christmas without her father, and probably her first Christmas away from home as well.
Her first Christmas as his wife.
“Thank you, my love, very much. Thank you,” he told her softly, and he suddenly swept her off her feet, carrying her to the wing chair before the fire. Her arms slipped around his neck, but she protested. “Ian, I’m far too heavy—”
“Alaina, you will never be too heavy,” he protested impatiently, and sat with her.
And she allowed her head to fall back against his shoulder, and sat trustingly against him, her fingertips delicately fallen against his chest. Her hair smelled clean, intoxicating with its subtly floral scent. He thought that if the country were not coming apart at the seams, he might be a completely contented man. His wife was very beautiful, capable of being wild, impetuous, opinionated—and yet so gently sweet as of this moment. If he was plagued at all, it was by the wanting of her, a condition that would simply have to wait. Yet even in that, they were both young, vital, wealthy, and expecting a child any day. The perfect son, perhaps, and if not, a daughter, and years before them to complete a family.
“Ian,” she said after a moment.
“Hmmm?”
She hesitated, then murmured, “I wanted to thank you for—for everything when Teddy was killed. I’m still bitter about the army men, and I do pray that some justice is done. But you were very patient and kind, and I know that I never said so at at the time, and I just wanted you to know that it meant a great deal to me.”
“Alaina, Teddy was my father-in-law. You’re my wife. Naturally, I would have done anything in my power for him, or for you.”
“Really?” she murmured, and a skeptical tone was back in her voice. Their differences regarding North and South always seemed to come between them. If he would do anything in his power, she was certainly thinking, why wouldn’t he resign his commission?
“Within reason, my love,” he told her.
“Is that true?” she whispered softly.
“Within reason?” he queried.
She looked up at him, smiling wistfully, gold eyes touched by the flames of the fire. “No, I meant … I meant… I suppose that’s exactly what I meant. Within reason, of course. And I’m not always within reason.”
He shook his head, wondering what she had really been about to say.
She shivered suddenly.
“You’re cold,” he said quickly. “I’ll get a blanket.”
“No, no… please, just hold me,” she said very quietly, and he did so. Her knuckles stroked his cheek, and he sighed, somewhat despairing to realize that all the logic and reason in his mind were doing little to keep him from wanting his wife. And yet it was good just to feel her warmth, the brush of her fingers against him…. He felt the sudden movement of his child against his hand where it lay upon her abdomen.
Perhaps he wasn’t entirely content, but he was, indeed, at peace.
A calm always came before a storm, so Jerome had told him once, and so he thought it would be.
But for that Christmas, though…
There was peace.
Chapter 18
Ian had taken a house in the center of the Capital. They arrived at night, but even in the darkness, D.C. seemed to be extraordinarily alive. Carriages rattled down the streets; the clip-clop of horses’ hooves could be clearly heard. Alaina didn’t particularly want to enjoy anything about Washington; despite herself, she liked it from the moment they first arrived. The place seemed so very vibrant. Vendors sold nuts roasting over open fires, calling out to passersby in singsong voices. Boys hawked newspapers and circulars even by night; messengers seemed to be going and coming busily no matter what the hour.
Houses were ablaze with light.
The journey had been rough. Despite the fact that the rail system had brought them almost all the way from Charleston to the house, traveling had not been easy for her. Alaina could feel the strain of the baby’s weight easily now, and she found sleep very difficult to acquire.
The carriage ride from the station to the house was wretched, with winter weather making bogs of the road. Alaina thought she’d be exhausted and anxious to retire when they reached the house. She had come a long way from the fever that had so nearly killed her after her father’s death, but she hadn’t entirely recuperated from the illness, which added to her weariness.
But the city made her feel alive. And she was pleased to discover that the house Ian had taken was very near the Capital itself, near the Mall, and in the bustling center of everything. It was quite cold and damp the night they arrived, but when they alighted from the carriage, she didn’t really notice. She spun around, fascinated, then realized that Ian was watching her, and that he looked weary as well, and was trying not to be impatient with her.
“Would you like to see the house?” he suggested.
“Of course.”
The walkway was slippery; he held her elbow carefully, escorting her up the stairway to the porch. When they reached the porch, the door opened automatically, and Ian called out a greeting to the very tall and slender man standing there ready to welcome them.
“Henry, I’ve brought my wife,” Ian said. “Henry serves as my butler here, and much more.”
“Indeed,” Henry said pleasantly. He was so tall and slim, he reminded Alaina of a stork, but he had a surprisingly pleasant smile to go with his wild white hair and thin wrinkled face, and she liked him immediately. “I am master of whatever trade is needed, Mrs. McKenzie,” he added, greeting her with an inclination of his head. “Welcome, Mrs. McKenzie. I am delighted to serve you in any manner that I may.”
“Thank you, Henry,” Alaina told him.
“Henry, if you would be so good as to show my wife’s cook and maid to their lodgings, I’ll bring Mrs. McKenzie through the house.”
“As you wish, sir.”
The architecture of the house was stoically Federal in style; the entryway was fashioned in a half-moon shape with a fashionable marble-toned wallpaper and a very high ceiling with a handsome chandelier. A curving staircase rose immediately from the entry, while the downstairs rooms branched off from either side of it.
“To the left,” Ian said, leading her forward while Henry led Bella and Lilly up the stairs. “The formal dining room—naturally, no one will expect you to entertain in your present condition, but in time perhaps we’ll have guests. Beyond here, the ladies’ parlor, and beyond that, the grand salon. And next to it, the library, and my office.” Rooms led into one another in a neat pattern, the grand salon being directly behind the curving stairway. Next to it, the library had a very definite masculine appearance with its dark woods and leathers, and the office beyond seemed to state that it was off limits to the female gender as well.
She studied the library and connecting office, then turned to Ian. “It’s very grand—for a place to stay while you’re assigned here. One would think you intend to stay awhile.”
“I took the house several years ago, which has proven to be a wise decision,” he said simply. “Come on, I’ll bring you upstairs. You must be completely exhausted.”
“I’m really fine—”
“But you don’t want to become overtired,” he said firmly, leading her back the way they had come and then upstairs.
“The servants’ quarters are all on the third floor,” he told her, pushing open a doorway just down the hall from the landing. “I’ve had this prepared for you.”
Alaina stepped into the room. It was extremely pleasant, with a large bed covered i
“It’s quite nice,” she murmured. But her heart seemed to be pounding in her throat. It was her room. Her room alone. Not his.
She glanced at him. “And where … do you sleep in Washington?” she asked politely.
“I’m the next door down the hall,” he told her, his gaze sweeping over her. “It’s best for the time being. I crowd you and the baby.”
“That’s not really true.”
“Well, then, my love, I’ve gotten very little sleep as of late, and I need some,” he said softly. “There’s a washstand there, a hip tub behind the screen, and a kettle to heat water on the bracket above the fireplace. There’s a bellpull by the bed; if you need anything at all, Henry has a staff of three, and of course, we’ve more help now with Bella and Lilly here. I’ll leave you to get some rest. Would you like Lilly to come help you?”
“No, thank you, I’m fine.”
He came to her quickly, as if he had suddenly become quite impatient. He kissed her forehead. “Get some rest!” he murmured, and left her.
When he was gone, she sank suddenly to the foot of the bed, perplexed, uneasy—and hurt and lonely as well. Certainly they argued about the state of the country, but she had been very glad to be with him in Charleston. She had felt secure sleeping at his side, comfortable in his arms. It seemed, however, that he was adamant about not having her in his room here, and she felt as if he were creating another of his walls between them. She couldn’t help but feel a certain jealousy and wonder if he didn’t crave something different from her here in Washington.
His freedom.
To spend time with the colonel’s daughter?
Still, she was very tired, and not at all sure of how to approach him, and far too proud to insist that he should be with her. What if he absolutely refused her? She didn’t think that she could bear such a situation.