Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Sleeping on the lounge was Keely found her in the morning. Leona woke to a small hand shaking her. Opening her eyes, she saw Keely standing there with a sad look on her face.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?”

Keely’s lower lip stuck out as she scuffed her toe on the floor. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?” It was just too early to play mind games with the child.

“Because, Auntie Lea, I did something bad. I thought that was why you left, because of me. Then I thought maybe you were up here so I came and here you are, but now I’m scared again that you’ll be mad at me and still leave.”

“Keely, just tell me what’s wrong.” She struggled to sit up, and after that was accomplished, patted the seat next to her. Leona looked over at the narrow bed in the room and mentally scolded herself for not sleeping on that last night.

Climbing up, Keely sat beside her. “Okay.” It was the tortured sound of a child about to admit to something horrific. “I looked at your pictures. I came up here and saw your pictures on the tables and looked at them. I know Mama said I wasn’t supposed to come in here, but I just had to see them. And Mama really only said that at home in the country. I wanted to know what they were of, if there were any more of me. Then I told Mr. Trace that you had pictures of him. I’m so sorry, Auntie Lea, don’t leave because of me.” Tears rolled down her golden skin.

“Oh, sweetie. Why do you think I would leave?” Just because I was thinking that myself last night… “I’m not going anywhere. I am spending the holidays with you and your family. Thank you for telling me what you did.”

“So you aren’t mad at me?”

“No, sweetie. Not mad. But you know you weren’t supposed to be up here. That cannot happen again. Now, we have a full day ahead of us and I should get up now.”

“I was wondering… Will you teach me how to paint?”

Leona was amazed. “You want to paint?”

Kelly beamed at her. “Yes. Then maybe we could be together and paint in here. I like spending time with you, Auntie Lea. Mama says you love it because it makes you happy and it’s quiet when you do. I can learn to paint and learn to be quiet as well, promise.”

“I kind of like spending time with you too. I am happy to teach you, but later. Right now I have to get ready to go to the park for a ride.”

“Who are you going with?”

“The Earl of Danbury.”

“Oh. Don’t you like Mr. Trace?” She fell into step beside Leona as they walked down the stairs. “I do. He stood up for me and Bryn when Lucy wanted to hurt me again. When I fell down, he picked me up, dried off my face and wrapped me in his jacket. He didn’t even know me. He was so nice.”

Yes. He was so nice. “Yes, I like Colonel Morgan.”

With a child’s innocence her next question came. “Then why would you go with the Earl of Danbury?”

“Because I told him I would accompany him on a ride today. That’s why.”

“Would you go with Mr. Trace if he said for you to?”

‘Said for you to.’ Just like he would order a slave. In seconds Leona had gone from being happy to shaking with painful memories.

“You mean if he asked me to go?”

Keely nodded. “Yes, that.”

“I suppose, if I didn’t already have a previous engagement. Why all the questions, sweetie?”

“Just wondering. Can we paint later today?”

“We’ll see. I still have to work on the painting for your Auntie Dev and Uncle Rafe.”

“Oh. I guess so. Well, until you can help me, I will practice on my own. See you later, Auntie Lea.” She ran off down the hall toward her brother’s room.

“Bye, sweetie.”

* * * *

The Earl of Danbury had just entered the house as Leona began her descent from her room to the main floor of the house.

He was a decent-looking man. Okay, better than decent. Tall and fit, he sported light brown hair and had startling green eyes. He had a pleasant enough voice that made her insides feel a little funny. All in all, she enjoyed the time she spent in his company, for he was witty and made her laugh. Also, he didn’t look down upon her for her painting.

“Good morning, Miss O’Neill.”

“Good morning, Lord Danbury.” She felt a little flustered as she gazed upon the man who waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. Waited for her. It was most definitely a heady feeling.

As she approached, he bent and pressed a quick kiss on her gloved hand. “My dear, as always, you are a vision.”

With a blush, Leona ducked her head. She wore a dark blue dress with gold accents.

“You really should get used to hearing compliments like that. You deserve them.” She shook her head and he stopped. “Very well, I will stop. For now. Shall we go?”

“Yes. I would like that.”

“Well, even though it is snowing, I know how you value your walks, so would you like to walk?”

“Really, you wouldn’t mind?”

“Keep smiling at me like that and I would never mind. We can also take your dogs. Each of us walks one. How does that sound?”

“Wonderful!” Thoughtful. As Weeks held her coat for her, another maid brought out her leashes for Neptune and Jupiter.

When all was ready, they stepped out into a morning of gently falling snow. The weather was crisp, just how Leona liked it.

Side by side she and her escort walked down the street, with the dogs out front, stepping easily. They chatted about little things as they headed for the park. Their chaperones followed an acceptable distance behind.

One moment Leona felt a stab of anger on her link with Trace, but it only lasted a moment before it was gone, so she didn’t focus on it at all. Well, not too much anyway.

Trace and his son were walking up from the other way as he saw his woman—he refused to think of her in any other terms—leave the house with another man and those same two very large dogs. Fury surfaced before he tapped it down.

He may have figured out what he wanted, but he did understand her hesitancy. After all, she did have a horrible childhood, he knew that. What he didn’t understand was why she didn’t trust him.

Who was he kidding? He knew that answer as well. He’d never gotten a chance to tell her where he had been that fateful night. He was counting on the fact that her feelings hadn’t changed for fifteen years. Maybe she didn’t find him attractive anymore.

No, that couldn’t be it. She had definitely responded to his kiss last night. And the kisses they’d shared at her home, before he had regained his sight. Also, Keely had said that she had lots of pictures of him up in her studio. They needed to talk. Alone. Just the two of them.

“Why don’t you just call on her, Papa?”

“What did you say, son?”

“Why don’t you just call on her like all the other men?”

Children made things seem so easy. No muss, no fuss. Just plain and simple solutions.

“You’re right. I should. I’ll leave a note for her when I drop you off.”

“About time,” his son muttered, so low that Trace almost didn’t hear it.

Almost.

Falcon was right. It was time to begin wooing his woman. Time to make her realize that he wasn’t after her for anything less than forever. His love was true and would remain so for the rest of their days. It wasn’t often that someone met their soul mates at the age they had been, but they had, he just had to remind her that what they had surpassed anything from their past. They could face it, move on and be together.

After Trace dropped off his son and left a note for Leona, he headed off back to his hotel room. He had work to do.

* * * *

Leona was escorted by the very dashing Earl of Danbury to Viscount Harrington’s house after their walk. For the rest of the day she spent time working on more sketches of the family and compiled her work into a pile to take back to her studio.

It was dark when she returned to the St. Martins’ townhouse. The snow fell much heavier and Rafe had insisted that a carriage take her home. She hadn’t argued since it was cold, snowy and late. Not to mention she had the dogs and her artwork to haul as well.

As her coat was being taken from her, Weeks was there to hand her the platter with a note for her. It was addressed with simple lettering and had only her first name on it.

She opened the note as she walked up the stairs to go change for dinner.

Leona—

I was wondering if I might once again have

The pleasure of enjoying your company.

Perhaps a walk or something where we could

Spend some time together. Alone.

I have things that I need to tell you.

Things that I can’t say in a note.

I am no good at flowery words. But I will

Learn if that is what you like. Remember,

There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you

Kitten.

I will await your reply with bated breath.

You hold my heart, now and forever.

~Trey

PS: I want you to meet my son

Damn him. He’d had to call her kitten. She had to see him. If for no other reason than to face demons from her own past. She owed it to herself and to their previous relationship to give him her undivided attention.

But where to meet him? The days were getting colder, so maybe here would be the best place. She would have to clear it with Lucien and Ciara first, as she didn’t want to have any notions of impropriety to fall on their family.

Could she? Should she? Would she?

She had to. Trace was right. Every single traitorous fiber in her being craved his touch. He knew it, she knew it, so why pretend otherwise? No matter what had happened in the past, the only thing she was absolutely positive about was she was still in love with him.

For years she may have had her doubts, but they had all vanished the second she’d recognized his body on the ground. They shared something special and unique.

* * * *

At dinner, she asked the opinions of the marquess and his wife. Since it was just the three of them and since Ciara still disliked eating formally in that specific room, they were at the breakfast table with the dinner before them to serve themselves.

“Colonel Morgan left me a note asking if he could call on me.” Leona just blurted it out.

Her friends put down their utensils and turned to look directly at her. When that was all she said, Ciara prompted, “And?”

“I was thinking I might accept.”

“Just spending some time in the receiving room talking? It is getting much colder now, so a walk may be out of the question.” Ciara’s sharp mind missed nothing.

“He said he had something he wished to discuss with me. So, I thought…”

“About damn time,” Lucien mumbled more to himself than to the women at the table, although they heard his comment. A comment that earned him a reproachful glare from his wife and caused a blush to run up Leona’s skin.

Finally Leona gave up all pretense of eating, dropping her spoon with a loud clank. The noise echoed in the silence. “I know you both know about him. I need to be able to spend some time with him alone. But I also don’t want to besmirch your name or home.”

Lucien put down his cup and exchanged another glance with his wife. His words were concise and clear when they came.

“If you need to talk to him then invite him here and do so. You have the gardens in the back if you want to be outside, or there are plenty of rooms inside if it is cold. You are like family, and after your last meeting with him, I think it is safe to say there is still something between the both of you. That kind of behavior would be much better done under this roof than out in the park.”

Leona noticed that although she stayed silent, Ciara was nodding in agreement to what her husband was saying.

“Also, this way there will be no talk of impropriety, since I will be here as will Ciara. Have him bring Falcon along also.”

Falcon? Who was Falcon? Was that his son’s name?

“Very well. I will send a response this evening.”

“For tomorrow?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yes, Lucien. For tomorrow.” She loved how pushy and yet protective he was of her.

“Good.”

And still, Ciara remained silent.

After dinner was over and the three adults were in the library, Leona penned a short response to Trace. She rose silently and handed it to a waiting footman to deliver.

The rest of the evening was spent with Leona sketching and Ciara and Lucien snuggled together on a couch, all of them warm and protected against the winter weather that swirled out beyond the windows.

* * * *

Around ten-thirty, Trace heard a knock on his hotel door. He opened it to look down into the face of a footman who held a letter with a crest he recognized as belonging to the Marquess of Heartstone.

“Good evening, sir. This note is for you and I am to wait for a response, if there is to be one.”

Trace backed up from the door and gestured for the man to enter his room. “It will just take me a second to write one.” There would be one all right.

The footman nodded and stood by the fireplace to warm up as Trace read the note.

Across the front was penned ‘Colonel Trace Morgan’. The script was blended together perfectly, showing the expert penmanship of the writer.

Could it truly be Leona’s writing? He had only seen her write as a child and teenager. A tiny sliver of dread reared its ugly head. What if she didn’t want to see him?

Tamping it down, he opened the envelope to pull out the folded ecru-colored paper. There was the faint smell of orchids, taking Trace back to the last time he had seen Leona in his father’s house and actually spoken with her.

They were having a ball that evening. At sixteen there were other things that he would have preferred to be doing but since he had no choice, he would be attending the ball. He strode into the ballroom, to see what it looked like, and there she was.

Leona was alone in the huge room, which was good, since it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to not expose how he felt about her in the presence of others. His control slipped just looking at her, it was so hard to keep in check—her eyes, hair, body, every part of her called to him like the sirens calling sailors. Those men had no will or control of their own actions.

She stood on the far side of the room, wearing nothing more than her tattered one-piece dress. If that was what you could call it.

Leona had the faded gray article cinched at the middle with a piece of twine that accented her thin waist and her breasts—without doubt. She had matured. Her hair was braided down her back and tied off with another piece of twine.

Even in her ragged clothes she was beautiful to him. Leona moved with a grace that made her seem untouchable, unattainable. Like the horrors that were around her stopped short of touching her. Trace’s knees were wobbly as he shut the door behind him, sealing them in together. Closing it with complete care. And silence.

Leona was humming to herself as she cut and arranged the flowers on the table in front of her into vases. She worked very quickly. All the flowers were orchids.

With a quick second glance to make sure they were really alone, Trace moved toward her. He stalked her silently until he was directly behind her. Placing his arms on either side of her, he whispered softly into her ear.

“Hello, kitten. Miss me?”

“Please go away. Don’t get me into trouble.” He knew she’d known he was there as she didn’t even jump a tiny bit.

“Answer me and I will.”

“Go away.” There was a noise in the hall.

“Answer my question.”

“All right. Yes. I’ve missed you. You already know that,” she hissed in fear.

“I knew that before.” He brushed a kiss across her neck, savoring in the way it made her shudder. “Do you like orchids?” She smelled like them. She smelled good enough to eat.

“Please step away from me.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, I love them. They are so beautiful, now, please. Someone is coming.”

The handle was turning on the door, slowly. Trace didn’t care, his headiness making him reckless. “Meet me later.”

“I’ll be here at the party.”

“After then. I need to hold you. I don’t want to share you with anyone. I want it to just be us so I can touch you. Agree to meet me.”

The door pushed open. Leona remained focused intensely on the flowers. Trace sprang away from her and pretended interest in the decorations. He had pulled himself together and had the look of boredom and indifference on his face. Damn it, it wasn’t easy.

It was Ben. The tall, jet-black slave who was in charge of all the others that worked inside the plantation house. His brown gaze swept the room, seeing all then some as he stepped completely inside the room and shut the door behind him.

“Good afternoon, Master Trace. Are you almost done, Leona?”

Without turning from her work, she replied, “Yes, Mister Ben. Not much longer.”

“Very good. Don’t forget to get your clean clothes from your mama. She has what you are to wear tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

Trace hated this. Hated how she was treated. How they all were treated, but most especially his Leona. Ignoring the other man in the room, Trace picked up an orchid and walked back over to Leona.

He waited until she brought her eyes to meet his own, then he repeated his question in a low tone. “After the party? Usual place?”

Her eyes dropped back to her work. “I can’t.”

“Look at me,” he commanded.

She lifted her ocher-colored gaze to his and waited in silence.

“Meet me.” Forceful this time.

“All right.” Her words were barely louder than a whisper, as her head was lowered toward the floor.

His eyes held hers as he ran the orchid down her cheek and under her chin, bringing her head up to meet his stare. Surely, she knew how much he loved her. Without further consideration to the third person in the room, he replaced the orchid with his fingers so her chin was caught. Anchored between his long, lean fingers.

Trace stepped into her and lowered his face to hers. He placed a kiss so tender it would make a single snowflake give the impression of being harsh and foreboding upon her lips. Straightening, Trace set down the flower and walked out of the room without looking back to Leona or addressing the shocked look on Ben’s face that the man worked quickly to smooth away.

With a hard swallow Trace opened the note. In the same elegant script were the words—

Trey:

Breakfast is at eight.

Bring your son.

Until tomorrow,

~Leona

She’d called him Trey. Probably hadn’t meant to or realized it, but she had. Her simplicity made him smile. Ever to the point.

Trace grabbed a piece of paper and a pen to write his response, before handing it to the waiting footman.

After the man had left to deliver his message, Trace sat heavily in a chair and just thought about her. Every last detail of her beauty was burned into his brain, and he enjoyed his perusal of each and every one he recalled. He began to count down the hours until he would actually see her again in the flesh, not just a memory.

* * * *

Leona waited for the footman to bring his response. Not that she would ever willingly admit it out loud, but she was ready to climb the walls with nervousness.

When the man finally arrived and delivered said message, she opened the note without even acknowledging the expressions on the two witnesses to her actions. Leona slid her finger into the envelope and pulled out the paper. Anxious. Tense. She opened it.

In his scrawl were two words—

Until tomorrow.

“Well, what did he say? Is he coming?” someone asked her. She wasn’t sure who, since she reeled with the prospect of being alone with him again.

“Yes.” Her voice was all breathy, like she had just climbed to the top of a mountain. “For breakfast tomorrow.” That said, Leona got up, walked out through the door and headed to her room.

* * * *

Trace woke early. He was restless. Scared, as if he were going into battle his very first time. He sent for hot water. Trace shaved and dressed himself in a nice set of clothes. He roused his son.

“Falcon. Wake up. We need to get ready to go for our breakfast appointment.”

His son stirred and cracked open one eye. “Okay, Papa.”

Trace sent for another batch of hot water to be brought up for his son. As he watched Falcon get ready, his mind raced through Leona’s potential reactions to his son.

“What’s wrong, Papa?”

“Nothing, just thinking.” Would she be harsh to him?

“What if she doesn’t like me?” Worry had obviously begun to surface within Falcon.

“Why wouldn’t she like you?”

“She didn’t even look at me the other night. It was like I didn’t exist.”

“I’m sure she will love you, like I do. I imagine that seeing me was quite a shock to her. That’s why she didn’t speak to you.”

“If you say so.” It was easy to tell that Falcon didn’t believe that for a second.

With an attempt to put him at ease, Trace asked, “Don’t Bryn and Keely like her?”

“Yes. They call her Auntie Lea. But what if I make her think about the plantation?”

Trace grabbed his son’s shaking shoulders and steadied him. “She would never blame you for something that happened to her in the past. Never! She is going to love you. Come on, we should be going. They’ll be sending a carriage around.”

Smoothing down a wayward piece of hair, Falcon took a deep breath and shrugged. “All right. I’m ready.”

Trace noticed his slight tremor but made no mention of it, just placed his arm around his son and walked out of the door with him.

Partway down the hall, Falcon stopped. “I have to go back.”

“Why?”

“I forgot something. Can I have the key?” Trace handed the key over wordlessly and watched his son dash back to the room, unlock the door and reappear moments later. He locked the door behind him and ran back to his father’s side.

Trace noticed a small smile of hope on Falcon’s face as they began to walk down the hall. There were a couple times Trace noticed that his son’s hand had gone to his pocket, as if to make sure whatever he had in there stayed in there.

Outside, the morning was downright cold. New snow fell from thick slate-colored clouds. He noticed all the servants were the only ones out this early. A well-sprung carriage with the seal of the Marquess of Heartstone awaited them.

It was warm in the carriage with the heat that radiated from the bricks in there. They were on the move just as soon as the door was closed. Heading toward his destiny.

Although he climbed out when the coach stopped, Trace hesitated before proceeding up the freshly shoveled steps with his son. With knowledge beyond his years, his son slipped his hand into his father’s before giving it an encouraging squeeze.

They entered into the warmth of the home and were directed to the breakfast room after giving up their coats. They were expected, and told to go right ahead. As he walked through the doorway, Trace found Leona immediately.

There were plenty of silent footmen setting down platters of steaming-hot food that smelled heavenly along the sideboard.

Leona stood at one end with a plate in her hand. She’d leaned over to hear what Keely told her before she would put the food on the plate. It was apparent that she was fixing a plate for the child.

A pale lavender dress made of sprigged muslin and matching shoes was all Leona wore. Her hair was pulled back into a single thick braid that fell down the center of her back. As usual, there were a few wisps that had gotten free of their confinement to settle gently around her face.

“Falcon, you made it.” Bryn spoke loudly as he shoved away from the table to meet his friend. “Come, get something to eat, we can continue our discussion.”

Leona’s hand trembled as she turned to face Trace. Again. He clearly noticed, but stood silently as she pivoted to cope with his presence.

“Good morning, Colonel Morgan.” The words were a little raspy, but not too bad considering.

“Good morning ki…Leona.” Eyes met, challenged and spoke volumes to each other with a mere glance. Trace blinked, looked at her again, and she noticed that his gaze changed. The expression in his chocolate-brown eyes seemed to beg for something—perhaps it was understanding, maybe compassion—before he added, “My son.”

That was it. This was her introduction to his son. Even Bryn and Keely watched as the scene unfolded in their presence.

Leona flicked her gaze down to scrutinize the young man who stood in front of his father. In his eyes, which looked like a softer version of his father’s, she recognized what she saw. It was fear.

Fear of not being wanted, not being accepted.

After she set Keely’s partially filled plate on the sideboard, Leona walked toward them both, her steps sure.

She stopped in front of the young man to look him directly in the eye. “Hello. You must be Falcon. Bryn has told me a lot about you. How are you doing today?”

“I’m fine, thank you. What should I call you?”

“Well, most call me Leona, Miss O’Neill or Auntie Lea. You can call me whatever you want.”

“Can I just call you Lea?”

“Of course you can.” The boy visibly relaxed before smiling at her, another reminder of how Trace had looked at that age. Casting one more smile at her, Falcon headed off to get some food with Bryn. Leona was left alone with Trace.

“Good morning kitten,” came his purring statement.

“Don’t. Don’t call me that.” Iron laced her tone.

Trace seemed to realize he tread on dangerous ground and so without even a blink he backed off that approach. “What’s good?” At her glare, he said, “I was talking about breakfast.” He walked past her and headed for the sideboard, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Trace had stopped so suddenly that when Leona spun around she almost walked right into his broad back. She edged out from behind him before she too halted in her tracks at the sight unfolding by the sideboard.

Trace’s son had picked up Keely’s plate and was filling it for her as she walked along side and pointed out what she wanted. The two adults exchanged glances as the rest of the servants left the room. There was something familiar about the way those two children were acting.

A moment of strained silence floated between them.

“All of it. All of it is good.” At his single raised eyebrow, Leona amended, “The breakfast. All of it is good.”

They filled their plates and were well into the meal when Lucien and Ciara arrived to partake of the meal. There was no need for anyone to ask where they had been.

“Good morning, Colonel Morgan.”

Trace’s eyes migrated to Leona and softened before circling back to settle on his hosts. “Yes, it is a good morning, Lady Heartstone. Good morning to you both.”

It wasn’t long until everyone had food and the room was filled with easy chatter, mostly led by the kids. Leona ate silently, not really contributing to the conversations buzzing around her.

Her attention was completely taken up by the nut-brown-haired man who sat almost directly across from her. He still looked so damn good. He looked better than good. Every movement was beautifully choreographed, making them appear flawless. He was a predator in his own right—graceful, fluid, dangerous and extremely confident.

She ached to touch him.

To run her hands under his crisp, pristine white shirt. Place her hands on his muscular chest, which was broad and spoke of his power. Intertwine her fingers with the light smattering of brown hair that covered his chest, enjoying how it felt against her hands.

To place kisses all along his rugged jaw. Up his cheeks, across his forehead. To delve her fingers through his head of thick silky hair.

But most of all, she longed to gaze upon him naked as she had done so long ago. To have him look upon her like she was the most important thing to him in the world. To see desire flare in his eyes, not as a lad, but as a man.

He looked across the table at her. As if he could read her mind, his eyes darkened. The emotion swirling in those chocolate depths was very clear to her. He desired her. Now. Still. After all this time.

Unable to keep her own gaze unheated, Leona looked away. She tried to focus on the exchanges around her but every time she glanced in Trace’s direction he was staring at her. Straight through to her soul, where he read what she wanted in big block letters.

After breakfast the children ran to go play outside for a while. Lucien and Ciara were going with. They left Leona and her guest at the door to one of the receiving rooms. There was tea and biscuits already set out. With a nudge, both were in the room and alone.

“Missed you, kitten.”

Leona struggled to maintain her control, so she walked over to the window and looked out into the backyard. “What was it that you needed to talk to me about?”

“Can we sit down?”

“Go right ahead.” She stayed facing the window.

“Will you sit down with me?”

The hesitation was long enough to geld him. Leona walked back and sat down in a large chair before she pinned him with two tawny daggers.

“I need to tell you—” He broke off. After all this time, he couldn’t find the right words. “I have gone over what to say so much it should come to me, but it won’t.”

“Start at the beginning.”

“I’m just so confused.” He made a fist with his hand over and over so he wouldn’t jump up and touch her. Had to get through the talking first.

“Can I ask you some questions?” Leona sat primly beside him but her gaze, as always, was direct.

Relief? Most likely. “Please. Ask whatever you want.”

“Where were you?” There was no need for her to elaborate on that question, for he knew exactly what she meant.

“Steven and David had tied me up and locked me in one of the closets. They came back after and told me bits and pieces of it before they beat me into unconsciousness.”

Her eyes stayed on him. There was a war raging inside her and he saw it. He didn’t blame her. Hell, it was nothing more than an excuse, talking about how he’d been tied up and beaten by his own brothers when he was well aware of the hell she’d gone through.

“I know now it doesn’t mean much, but I am so sorry for that. I promised that I would protect you. I failed. I failed you.”

She watched him without flinching, but neither did she move away. He took that as a good sign.

“I was laid up for about two weeks, then I found out you and your mom had escaped. I prayed that you two would find safety somewhere and that you would not believe what Steven told you about me being with my next girl. That you were just a passing fancy. That was not true. There was never anyone else for me.”

Continued silence from Leona, and it made him uneasy. Did she believe him? Had she already made up her mind about him? His son?

“A few months later I went into the army. Since I had nothing to live for, I was dangerous and reckless. Apparently good qualities for what they were looking for. Once they got rid of my recklessness, I moved up through the ranks quickly. One of my trips home I met Bethany, from up the road. We were married and Falcon came later. I still don’t know if he is my son or Steven’s, not that it matters, for I love him all the same.”

He wanted to believe she softened at that. “Then the need for more slaves began.” Leona’s eyes grew sharp and shuttered. “I took a regiment to your island—still don’t know why, other than we were ordered there—and apparently walked into a trap set up by Steven. Then I woke up in your house. Did you always know it was me?”

Leona nodded. “From the second I turned you over on that frozen ground.”

“After all I did—or didn’t do—for you, why did you save me?”

“I had to.”

“Why?” He needed the reason.

“Because.”

“Tell me.” A command now, and he didn’t think it would be disobeyed.

“Because I had to.”

“Tell me.” He implored not only with his words but also his eyes.

“Because I was still in love with you. Because at one time you were my friend. Because I couldn’t sit there and let you die without trying to save you.”

‘Was. Was in love with.’ What the hell is with the past tense? “And now? How do you feel? About me? About us?”

“There is no us. Don’t you get it? You were the master.” She spat the word with disgust. “I was the slave. What we had…it was not real. It was just a disillusioned childhood fantasy for me, and I’m not sure what it was for you.”

“No! Damn it, I won’t accept that. You can’t sit there and tell me that it was nothing. There was something between us, there still is. I can feel it and I know you can. We are connected, Leona. We always have been.”

“You have a son, Trey, by another woman. You own slaves.”

“No, I don’t. I do not own any slaves. There are workers on my plantation, but they’re paid. Very well.”

There was no denying her shock at his statement. “What do you see when you look at me?”

He had zero hesitation when he answered. “I see the most beautiful woman in the world. I see the adolescent girl who stole my heart who went and grew into a stunning woman who takes my breath away every time I look at her. Yes, at one time you were a slave, but make no mistake, I do not see a slave when I look at you. I see the other half of my soul. I love you, Leona. I always have.”

“What about the color of my skin?”

“What about it? It looks wonderful on you.”

“I’m different.”

He shook his head. “You need to get over this. I love you for you. Stop throwing obstacles in our path. I am declaring myself to you. I will be competing with the other suitors to win your hand. I hope I am not wrong about where your heart already lies. I’ll find a way for you to trust me again.”

When she said nothing, Trace shuttered his eyes to conceal his pain. He realized that he had a long battle ahead of him.

“Tell me about your son.”

Perhaps a safer topic for the moment. “Well, his name is Garrett, but he prefers to be called Falcon. When I got back from your island, I found that he had been living in the slave quarters. Steven and Bethany beat him often. He was scared and timid, but we’re working through it.”

“I am sorry for what he went through. No one deserves that. Especially a child.”

Trace stood up and walked over to where Leona sat. Pulled on her hand to get her to her feet. Then he walked them both over to the chair closest to the roaring fire. He sat himself down in front of the chair, placing Leona between his legs so her back was flush with his chest.

“Tell me about it.”