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  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Taye, please. There is a time and place for everything, and this is neither the time nor the place to…to display one’s affection.”

  She released his hand with a sigh. Heavens, she couldn’t make him kiss her, could she?

  She stepped away. She would retreat for now, but she would not surrender. She would not give up on her desire— not just to be loved, but to feel as if she were in love. “So what do you recommend I read next?” she asked blandly. “Alexis de Tocqueville’s essays on democracy or the new Victor Hugo?”

  “Jackson,” Cameron said, her voice husky with desire. “Good heavens! Not on the gaming table.”

  He laughed as he pushed the cards and brandy glasses to the floor with one sweep of his hand and seated her firmly on the edge of the table. “And why not?” He grinned wickedly as he untied her bonnet and tossed it to the floor. “I do, after all, want to be considerate of your condition. What kind of man do you think I am? Do you think I would take my wife standing at the door?”

  She lowered her gaze as he opened his trousers. His erect member sprang from the fabric, stiff and shocking in its enormity, and she found her breath catching in her throat. “Of course not, my love,” she teased, her voice raspy with desire. “What would ever make me think you would be so base?”

  With one hand, he threaded his fingers through her hair, not caring if he ruined her coiffure. With his other hand, he reached beneath her layers of skirt and petticoats to the place that was already soft and damp for him. Their mouths met hungrily. His fingers stroked the blossoming folds and she groaned, suddenly feeling as urgent as he.

  “We have to hurry. Someone’s going to come.”

  “Us,” he whispered in her ear.

  She could feel her face grow heated with a mixture of desire and embarrassment. He always treated her with respect in public, but in private, he sometimes spoke to her as if she were his whore. Worse, she behaved so. It frustrated her that she liked his crude words. She was ordinarily a woman in such great control of herself, of her body and her emotions. What was it about Jackson that always sent her spinning out of control?

  “Now,” she groaned in his ear. She slid to the edge of the card table and grabbed his bare hips, guiding him into her.

  She gasped as he entered, moaned as he filled her in a way no one else could.

  Jackson closed his eyes and held her tightly, rocking back and forth. Balanced precariously on the edge of the table, she was helpless to do anything but cling to him and let him guide her in the motion.

  As he stroked her, pushing further toward the edge of fulfillment, the walls of the small office faded, the sounds in the warehouse below drifted away. There was nothing in her world but the two of them, the touch and feel of Jackson’s skin and the sound of his ragged breathing.

  Cameron was shocked by how quickly she reached climax. How hot she had been for Jackson, how needy. How could she be so angry with him one moment and want him so badly the next?

  Jackson grunted and then leaned forward to rest his chin on her forehead. Panting, she lowered her legs and pushed down her skirts.

  He kissed her temple gently. “Now where were we, darling? What were you saying?”

  She laughed and pushed him back, but he would not budge. “You’re a wicked, corrupt man and you have corrupted me. Coercing me to do such a thing in broad daylight on your card table!” She smoothed her skirts. “It’s a good thing the senator is dead because he would be mortified to see how immoral his daughter has become.”

  Jackson laughed heartily. “You forget that your father and I were good friends and that I knew him well. Perhaps better than you in some ways, my sweet.” He brushed her love-bruised lips with his fingertip. “I think Senator David Campbell would be proud to know you’ve allowed yourself to love the way you have.”

  “Whatever do you mean by that?”

  He reached down to fasten his breeches. “Only that your father had a great capacity to love, and he found great happiness in that love, that’s all.”

  “You mean Sukey,” she said tentatively. It was not until after her father’s death that she discovered he had had more than just a sexual relationship with their housekeeper. Apparently, when he died, they had been in love for more than twenty-five years.

  The door rattled and swung open, startling Cameron. She slid forward off the table and Jackson stepped back. Her gaze darted to the scattered cards and glasses and her bonnet tossed carelessly to the floor. It couldn’t be retrieved at this point without drawing greater attention to it.

  She tried not to look too flustered as the man dressed in short breeches and a striped sailor’s shirt pulled off his knit hat. “Ma’am.” He nodded to her and turned his attention to Jackson. If he saw the mess on the floor, he gave no indication. “They be ready to see ya on the Miss Virginy, if you’re ready, Captain Logan.”

  Jackson smiled as if he had not nearly been caught with his pants around his ankles. “Thank you, Charlie. I’ll be down directly, just as soon as I have completed my business with Mrs. Logan.”

  His tone could easily have been interpreted twofold.

  Cameron stiffened. “We’re quite finished, sir.”

  Jackson flashed the sailor a grin. “We’re quite done, apparently. I’ll be down in a moment.”

  The sailor nodded, backed out of the office and closed the door.

  “Heavens,” Cameron groaned, snatching her bonnet off the floor. “If that man had walked in a moment before—”

  “But he didn’t,” Jackson interrupted cheerfully. “Now let me walk you down to the carriage.”

  “I can find my way,” she said sweetly.

  He took her elbow. “I’m going down.”

  Outside the warehouse, Jackson saw Roxy and turned to Cameron, instantly angry. “You rode here? Alone?”

  She eyed him, bristling. “I’ve been riding horseback since I came off my mammy’s apron strings.” She strode toward her mount. “I’m perfectly capable of riding this horse fewer than two miles down a city street.”

  “That’s not the point.” He grabbed her elbow, lowering his voice to a dangerous level. When Jackson was really angry, he got deadly quiet.

  Her own anger rose. “You cannot order me about, Jackson. In case you didn’t realize it, slavery has been outlawed in these United States.”

  “It’s not safe for you to be riding like this, carrying our child,” he countered.

  “That’s nonsense. The baby is no bigger than a pea. I’m not going to hurt myself, and I’m not going to hurt this child. Give me a leg up,” she ordered the boy holding Roxy’s reins.

  The boy looked to Jackson for approval.

  He threw up one hand. “Why the hell not? If you don’t help her mount, she’ll be climbing on barrels to get up herself.”

  The boy cupped his hands and Cameron managed to reach the saddle. Her mount had been rather unladylike, with more than a small showing of her pale blue petticoats, but she landed safely astride the saddle and took the reins from the boy.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” she called over her shoulder to Jackson. “Don’t forget our dinner party for the senators and their wives.”

  She didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she sank her heels into Roxy’s flanks and took off at a canter.

  “Damn, I just don’t know what to do with her, Taye,” Jackson confessed. Leaning on the balcony railing, he took a sip of his brandy and stared out into the darkened garden. They had stepped out for a breath of fresh air while the wife of the senator from Maryland entertained them with a truly earsplitting rendition of a popular tune.

  “I knew you’d be angry that she had rode Roxy to the docks, but there wasn’t any way I could stop her. You know how determined she can be.”

  He smiled, thinking of the long days he and Cameron had spent together in the summer of 1861. First in Baton Rouge, then on his ship, then on the road from Biloxi to Jackson. She had been so determined to get back to Elmwood that she�
�d nearly walked across the state of Mississippi. It was that fortitude of hers, which so angered him now, that he had truly admired in her then. It was just one more reason he would love her until death parted them…and likely beyond that.

  “I don’t expect you to be her caretaker, Taye.” He glanced at her. She was dressed in a lovely pale blue satin and white-striped silk gown and the hue matched her eyes almost exactly. “You did that long enough in Mississippi.”

  She smiled kindly. “I do it because I love her. And because, no matter what she says, I know she needs someone to look after her.” She stood beside him and leaned on the rail, then to his surprise, she took the brandy from his hand and stole a sip. “The senator’s death hit her harder than she would like us all to believe. Grant’s, too.”

  “And what of you?” He watched her in the darkness. “David was your father, too.”

  She handed him back his brandy snifter. “It’s different. I always loved him because he was so good to my mother and me, but I didn’t realize he was my father while he was still living. I don’t think the feelings can be the same. Do you?”

  Jackson groaned and finished off the brandy. “I doubt I’m the person to ask. I seem quite capable in the dark with a band of Confederate soldiers on my tail, but I can’t even handle my own wife.”

  She laughed. “No one handles Cameron Campbell Logan.”

  “You’ve got that right,” he said miserably. “I fear I’ve done nothing right in her eyes since I came home.” He glanced at her and then into the dark garden again, uncomfortable with his thoughts, but needing to voice them. Marie’s image appeared in his head and he pushed it away. He had made the right decision with her; he knew that. But seeing her again, having to work with her, made him question his choices. “Has Cameron said anything to you, Taye, about—” He paused. “I don’t know. Regrets?”

  She turned her head to stare at him. The lamplight behind them illuminated her honey skin, making her even prettier than by daylight. “Regrets? About you?”

  He nodded.

  “Are you mad?”

  He laughed. The Taye he had known before would never have said such a thing. In those days she had been afraid of him, nearly jumping out of her skin every time he spoke to her.

  “You’re worrying too much.” She patted his hand. “She loves you the way only Cameron can love. Wildly, passionately, sometimes out of control.” There was almost envy in her voice. “The two of you belong together and you know it. It’s just going to take some time to adjust to married life.”

  “Adjust?” he grumbled. “We’ve been married four years.”

  “Legally, yes, but you’ve never lived together. Two bulls as stubborn as the two of you, give it some time.”

  “I just thought that once we were together, things would settle down. Especially now with the baby coming.”

  She stood up, tightening the white lace shawl around her shoulders. “You forget that she was an independent woman these last four years. She had no father or husband to look after her, to make decisions for her.”

  “I would never have married her and left her here if I had thought she couldn’t take care of herself.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t have.” She smiled. “But now that you’ve come home, Captain, you cannot expect her to set aside her independence and be your little wife.” Taye smiled with a wisdom far beyond her years. “That’s not the kind of woman you really want anyway, is it?”

  He picked up his snifter, thinking he might need a refill. “I don’t know,” he said dismally.

  She smiled kindly. “I’m going inside. It’s getting cool.”

  “I’ll be in just as soon as the senator’s wife ceases that caterwauling.”

  She laughed again and disappeared into the house in a flounce of pale blue silk and the air of a true lady.

  7

  Cameron looked in on Taye, who was meeting with the head cook to go over the menu for the upcoming ball, then set out on horseback to Mrs. Cartwright’s hat shop. One of the young houseboys rode behind her to carry her purchase back to the house. It would have made more sense for her to take the carriage this morning, but the fact that she knew Jackson preferred it made her choose to ride.

  At the hattery on a busy street on the south side of town, amid a row of quaint little boutiques catering to ladies and gentlemen of quality, Cameron dismounted and tossed her reins to the uniformed boy standing outside the shop. She smoothed her riding skirt sewn of a soft, butter yellow sueded leather, and entered the tiny shop. The room was filled with rows of hats, some imported from Europe, others made in New York. Two staid, rigidly corseted female clerks, both clad in identical black taffeta day dresses and black lace caps, glided soundlessly between the displays of bonnets and the lengths of laces, ribbons, feathers and rosettes one could choose from to adorn a new hat. This morning, the shop was also filled with chattering women.

  Seeing that Mrs. Cartwright, the proprietress, was occupied with a customer, Cameron stepped down one of the aisles to look at the grosgrain ribbons. She was hoping to find a dove gray to match a hat she had at home.

  “Did you hear he’s back in town? My neighbor, Mrs. Ports, saw him just yesterday, the handsome devil,” came a female voice from the other side of a shelf stacked high with wooden spindles of ribbon.

  “I heard,” came a whisper in a conspiratory tone. “Everyone who is anyone is talking about him.”

  Cameron couldn’t see the two women who were gossiping, but their voices carried well.

  “He’s been home less than a month and they say he’s already philandering. And of course they say she’s back in Washington, as well.”

  “She?”

  “That Marie LeLaurie. She’s staying at The Grand.”

  “The one he’s been carrying on with? No!”

  “Yes! All that black hair—God knows it cannot be natural,” the woman hissed. “And it’s even worse than that.”

  “Heavens. I’m shocked,” breathed her companion. “Do tell.”

  “Well, one of my parlor maids has a cousin who has a friend who is a laundress in their home. You know how these negras are inbred,” she added briskly. “Well, they say the missus is expecting.”

  “It cannot possibly be true! There hasn’t been a word breathed at my Tuesday tea at The Grand.”

  “Well, the laundress would certainly know.”

  Cameron grabbed a spindle of gray ribbon she thought would possibly match her hat, shaking her head. She despised gossips. The poor woman they were speaking of didn’t deserve to be talked about so.

  “I’ll have to look into that, then. My husband plays cards with a gentleman who does business with him in the harbor.”

  Cameron started to walk toward the front counter, then froze, a shiver running through her. A man who had recently come to town, who had a pregnant wife, who carried on business at the docks? Cameron reached out to steady herself with one hand, the gray ribbon clutched tightly in her other hand.

  “Perhaps something has been said about his wife’s condition.”

  “Oh, I think not. Captain Logan would know better than to make such a public announcement.”

  The spool of thread hit the wooden floor with a loud clap and rolled down the aisle.

  “I mean, how far could she possibly be gone? He’s…”

  Cameron grabbed a shelf to support herself for a moment, feeling light-headed and dizzy.

  The gossips were talking about Jackson. Talking about her.

  Suddenly the air was stifling and she feared she might faint.

  Holding on to the shelves for support, she made her way down the aisle toward the door. As she gripped the doorknob, the proprietress called out to her.

  “Mrs. Logan! I’m sorry. I can help you in just a moment. It’s only that Mrs. Henry—”

  “It’s all right,” Cameron managed to say as she opened the door. “I…I’m in a hurry today. I’ll come back another day.”

  “What’s wrong?” Taye asked,
reaching across the tiny game table, her blue eyes wide with concern.

  Cameron shook her head, setting her cards aside. She and Taye had settled in the parlor after a supper alone to play cards, but her head wasn’t in the game. “Nothing.”

  “Don’t tell me that. You’ve been moping around the house for days. Saturday night is the ball. All of our war heroes will be here. Ulysses Grant will dance in your ballroom! You simply cannot receive your guests with such a sour puss.”

  Cameron stared at her hands clasped in her lap. Two days had passed since she heard the women gossiping. She tried to push their words out of her mind, but she simply couldn’t. She tried to convince herself that Jackson would never cheat on her. He loved her. And when would he have time to cheat on her? He worked morning to night in his office at the docks, unless he was in Washington. And Jackson was certainly not frolicking in the Secretary of State’s office with a woman!

  But what if it was true? Her lower lip trembled.

  “You have to tell me,” Taye said simply.

  Cameron glanced up at her sister. “Do you think Jackson would cheat on me with another woman?”

  Taye laughed aloud. “Absolutely not.”

  Cameron glanced away, tears of relief stinging her eyes.

  “Why ever do you ask such a ludicrous thing?” Taye clasped Cameron’s hand in hers, forcing her to look at her again.

  “I heard these women the other day…talking,” Cameron said haltingly. “About Jackson. They said—” She faltered. “They said everyone was talking about how he was cheating on me.”

  “It’s not true.”

  “I know it’s not.” Filled with self-doubt, Cameron twisted her emerald-and-diamond wedding ring around and around her finger. “But they also said they heard I was pregnant, which is true.”

  “Who were they?” Taye demanded angrily. “Because I would not hesitate to pay a call on them and confront them myself.”

  Cameron shook her head. “I don’t know who they were. I couldn’t see them. It doesn’t matter anyway.” She looked up. “I know it’s just vicious gossip but—” The look in Taye’s eyes made her halt in midsentence, her stomach falling as a lump rose in her throat. “You know something.”