Mischief and Magnolias (23 page)

“Are you certain I didn't hurt you?”

“I'm certain,” she whispered into his chest, finally finding her voice. He hadn't hurt her, not one bit. She'd just been overcome with emotion. “You didn't hurt me.”

He grew quiet for a moment then wrapped his arm tighter around her. “I rather like it when you lie against me like this.” He pressed a kiss against the top of her head and let out a long contented sigh.

“I admit, I like it too,” she responded between yawns, just before her eyes closed and she slipped into an exhausted yet satisfied slumber for as long as Beelzebub would let her.

“May I come in?”

Remy looked up from the letter in his hand and grinned as he rose to his feet and saluted. “I was just thinking about you, General.”

General Sumner returned the salute as well as the grin, his woolly mustache stretching across his upper lip. “Good thoughts, I hope.”

“Always, sir.” Remy gestured to the comfortable chair in front of the fireplace next to him, folded the letter, placed it on the table, and then poured the man a generous draught of whiskey. The temperature had dropped outside, but the study remained warm and cozy—flames crackled and jumped along the logs behind the grate, while sunlight filtered in through the window and dust motes danced in the beams.

The general removed his gloves and hat, shrugged out of his coat, and tossed them over the back of the divan. He rubbed his hands together in front of the crackling fire as he took his seat.

“I understand congratulations are in order.” He picked up his glass and swallowed the whiskey in one gulp, then licked his lips and gestured for more. “Honor was quite happy when I told her about your marriage. She said she always knew there was a woman out there for you. And who would have thought it started with vinegar in your coffee. We both hope you'll be happy.”

Remy could have disabused him of the notion his marriage was anything but planned or based on love, but he didn't say a word. No sense in letting the entire Union army know he had been well and truly trapped.

Ah, but that wasn't fair. He hadn't been trapped. Not at all. He could have just as easily said no, as he very rarely ever did anything he truly didn't want to; however, in all fairness, and the circumstances being what they were, he was an honest and honorable man. He had married because it had been the right thing to do.

And since he was honest, he needed to admit there was more to it than simply being principled and proper. His relationship with his wife had changed. Shaelyn wasn't nearly as prickly as before. Perhaps that had something to do with his unspoken campaign to win her heart. Passion simmered between them, passion she had once denied, but now accepted. This morning was a perfect example. After holding herself back, she had seduced him. His body still thrummed with the force of his release, her cries of pleasure still echoed in his ears.

With a simple nod, he said, “Thank you for your kind wishes, sir.”

“Not at all, my boy. I can't think of anyone who deserves to be happy as much as you.” He chuckled. “However, if you want to know the secret to a long and happy marriage, you'll have to ask my wife.” He chuckled again but with obvious adoration for the woman he had married. Honor Sumner was the perfect match for the general and had been from the moment they met thirty years ago. They shared a mutual respect and a deep abiding love for one another that hadn't diminished over the years. Instead, it had grown stronger.

Remy hoped his marriage would turn out to be the same. He was willing to work for it.

“Now, to the reason for my visit,” the general said, interrupting Remy's thoughts. “EJ has been hurt.”

“EJ? Hurt? What happened?”

The general explained the details while Remy listened, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew EJ—Ewell Junior—and admired the young man's determination to follow in his father's footsteps, but to do it on his own, without any special privileges. “Right now, he's in a hospital in New Orleans. I left him a few days ago, but Honor is still there. She's staying with friends in the city.” He sighed as he gently stroked his mustache, a motion he performed whenever upset. And there was no doubt the man was upset now. Seeing his son injured had to have been devastating.

“The next time you make a run for supplies, I'd like for him to be brought here, to Natchez. I don't trust the trains, and going over land in a carriage or wagon would not be what's best for EJ.” He continued stroking the bushy hair on his upper lip, dragging his fingers down along the sides of his mouth to stop at his chin. “Doctor Watson at the hospital has been notified and is awaiting further instructions, so the sooner, the better.”

“Of course, General. I'd be happy to make the arrangements.”

Shaelyn swept into the room, balancing a silver tray in her hands. “I thought you might like some coffee.” She stopped short, her eyes opening wide, the lovely blush staining her cheeks most becoming. “Oh, excuse me. I didn't know you had company.”

“It's all right, Shae. Come in. Please.”

Both men rose from their seats to watch her cross the room and place the tray on the table between them. Remy noticed there were two cups along with the coffee service. Had she intended to join him? The thought pleased him, especially after this morning. “General, I'd like to introduce you to my wife. Shae, this is General Ewell Sumner.”

“General.” Shaelyn gave a quick curtsey then extended her hand.

The older man bowed and took her hand in his. “A pleasure, my dear,” he said as he kissed her knuckles. “And my warmest congratulations on your marriage. You've got yourself a fine man.”

Shaelyn's blush deepened as she nodded and quickly left the room, closing the pocket doors behind her. Remy stared at the doors for a while then poured coffee for both of them.

General Sumner added whiskey to his and took a sip. His face dissolved in an expression of pure pleasure. “Good coffee,” he said, then gestured to the door. “I see why you were so taken with her, my boy. She's a beauty.”

“Yes, she is.” And it occurred to him that he had the power to make her happy. More importantly, he wanted to, for suddenly her happiness seemed vital. “I wonder if I could impose upon you, sir.”

“It's only fair, Remy. I'm imposing on you. Whatever it is, son, just ask. I'll do anything I can to help. Remember, I owe you my life.”

“My wife hasn't heard from her brother since he joined his regiment.” He passed the general a white linen napkin, which the older man placed across his lap. “She is, understandably, worried about him. I think it would ease her mind tremendously if she knew he was safe.”

“And you'd like me to look into his whereabouts?” Sumner helped himself to several shortbread cookies, dipped one into his coffee-whiskey mixture, and took a bite. Again, a momentary expression of pleasure appeared on his face as he chewed and swallowed. “Of course. What's his name? When did he enlist?”

“Ian Alexander Cavanaugh. He joined a Union company out of Natchez two years ago. No one has heard from him since.”

“Nothing?”

“No, sir. Nothing. He enlisted with a young man named James Brooks and they marched off together. She hasn't heard from either one, doesn't know if they're alive or if they've perished in battle.”

“I see.” He placed his plate and cup on the table then rose from his seat and dug through the pocket of his coat. He produced a small notebook and a stub of pencil, then asked for the name again and quickly wrote it down. “I'll see what I can find out.”

“Thank you, General. I appreciate it. And if you wouldn't mind, please don't mention anything to Shae. I don't want to get her hopes up in case…” He didn't finish his statement, but the general understood. All too well.

“Of course, my boy. Anything for you.” He tucked the notebook away and took his seat once more to indulge in the shortbread cookies. “By the way, I'm not sure if you've been told, but I've been permanently assigned to Rosalie. Honor will be joining me once you can bring EJ here.”

“That's wonderful, sir.”

“Natchez is a lovely city.” He finished all the shortbread on the plate and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “We're renting a little house not too far from here. She'd love to see you once we're settled. You'll have to come to dinner. And bring your lovely wife. I'm certain Honor would love to meet her.”

“Thank you, sir, we'd love to.” He poured more coffee into their cups then passed the bottle of Harte's Private Reserve to the general, who liberally added the whiskey to his once again. “Speaking of dinner, would you like to stay this evening? Brenna Cavanaugh is a fabulous cook.”

“Thank you for the invitation. I'd love to,” he said as leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, the picture of a man comfortable enough in his surroundings to relax. “Since I've come back from seeing EJ, I've been taking my meals at the King's Tavern or Rosalie. Neither place is up to Honor's fine standards. I could do with a meal that isn't burnt to a crisp or half raw.”

• • •

Shaelyn did not serve dinner. Young Private Connors did the honors and did it very well. Even with an unexpected guest, as well as the sudden return of Captains Becket and Williams from another successful trip, the young man performed his duties graciously.

She sat at the table while the private waited on her, and enjoyed the general's company, actually enjoyed the company of all the men, most especially Remy. Every time he glanced in her direction with his smoldering eyes and knowing smile, the flames of desire curled in her belly and she couldn't wait until they were alone again.

He'd been most charming this evening, sharing stories of his time at the Academy, as did the others around the table. The only one who didn't share was Captain Davenport. Though he chuckled when amused, he never did so aloud, and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Several times, she caught him staring at both Remy and the general with something akin to disdain—and superiority?—in his expression. The same expression he sometimes gave her.

Curious, she watched him from the corner of her eye, but made sure his attitude didn't spoil her mood. The dampening of her good spirits came as coffee and dessert were served and the talk turned to the general's son and the special request he'd made.

“Can you be ready to leave again by Friday?” Remy addressed the captains sitting across from him. “That'll give you two days to rest and recuperate from your last trip.” He turned to the general and asked, “Is Friday all right with you?”

“I prefer right now,” General Sumner admitted, “but I understand you need a few days.”

“Friday it is then,” Captain Beckett replied for both himself and Captain Williams as he dug into his dessert. “I'll notify the other captains.”

“Supplies, Vince?” Remy directed his attention to Davenport. “Since our ultimate destination is a hospital, perhaps we could bring extra medical supplies aside from what we normally do.”

“Consider it done.” Davenport removed a small leather-bound notebook from his pocket and jotted a quick note. “I'll have a list prepared from our inventory for your consideration shortly.”

Shaelyn listened to the plans being made and the more she heard, the more her stomach tightened. She pushed her dessert away, unable to take a bite over the constriction in her throat and the fear building within.
This would not be the first time the
Sweet Sassy
had delivered supplies, nor would it be the first time she transported passengers. The men who guided her, Captains Williams and Beckett, as well as the other captains who shared the duty, all experienced and competent, brought her back safely to Natchez after each trip, but this time something
felt
different. No matter how she tried to convince herself it would be all right, dread and doubt grew.

“Shae?”

She realized Remy had asked her a question and waited for her answer. Her gaze rose to meet his and she wanted to blurt out a warning, but couldn't get the words out. Not now, with everyone watching her. “She'll be ready. I'll see to it.”

• • •

Later, when they were alone, after the general had taken his leave and the house had settled for the night, Remy watched Shaelyn as they readied for bed.

“I like him,” she said as she unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it free from the waistband of her skirt before slipping behind the ornate screen in the corner. She still hadn't become so comfortable that she'd undress completely in front of him, but she'd made progress.

“That pleases me,” he replied, and he meant it. General Sumner was an important person in his life and he meant to retain the friendship. “He was quite taken with you as well.”

“How long have you known him?”

He could see the top of her head over the edge of the screen as he removed his trousers and folded them neatly on the chair, then doffed his undergarments and socks, pushing them into a small wicker basket beneath the same chair. “We met my first day at the Academy. He was my favorite instructor, not only teaching me mathematics, geography, and strategy, but French as well. You wouldn't know it to look at him, but he speaks the language fluently. His wife taught him.”

He limped to his side of the bed, placed his cane in the space between the bed and the bedside table, then slipped beneath the blankets. He settled against the pillows behind him, waiting for Shaelyn to reappear and wondered, briefly, when they'd begun to act like an old married couple. “I think you'll like her as well. Honor Sumner is a gracious lady,” he said, “and very much like you.”

She stepped out from behind the screen a moment later, her nightgown buttoned up to her neck and down to her wrists, which lifted the corners of his mouth in a grin he tried to hide. What pleasure it would give him to undo all those buttons and expose her creamy skin to his view. The material billowed around her as she moved to the small vanity and sat in front of the mirror.