Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

After Christmas

Leona squealed with laughter as she ducked a snowball thrown by Bryn. Holding up her hands, she cried off. She wrapped her stole around her a bit tighter and burrowed into the warmth it offered.

The day was cold and windy, but the kids had wanted nothing more than to come outside and play. She’d gone with them, aware she’d been holing herself up in her studio working on her drawings. Some time outside would be good for her.

And she’d believed that until they’d started pelting her with snowballs. Now the icy slush ran down the inside of her clothing.

“Where are you going, Auntie Lea?”

“Inside, Keely. I need some dry clothing and some hot chocolate.”

As she’d hoped, all the kids stopped and ran to her. “Do we get some too?”

She nodded and wiped some snow off Bryn’s face. “Of course, but we have to get inside, change and make it.”

“Can I help make it?”

Leona picked up Keely and held her close. “Yes, you can. We should head inside.”

She smiled at the maids and footmen who were also out in this and didn’t mention all the grateful looks they gave. The wind had whipped up and the temperature had gotten ugly and cold fast.

Inside was warm. Fires were burning, and she sent the kids along to change then did the same herself. Meeting them once more in the kitchen, she waved at the cook and told her they were going to make some hot cocoa.

“I can make it for you, miss.”

“No. Thank you, though. I promised Keely we would do this together. I promise I will clean up after us.”

As she heated the milk, she glanced over her shoulder in time to see Ciara walk in, a glow about her.

“Good afternoon, my lady.”

“I heard there was chocolate being made in here.” She kissed her children and Leona’s heart tripped when she didn’t leave out Falcon. “What can I do to help?”

“Cinnamon?”

“We have some of that. Are you thinking a bit grated off into the chocolate?”

Leona nodded. “I am. That is how my mother used to make it.” For Trace and his family, but that wasn’t where she wanted to go with her thoughts right now.

Keely stood on a chair beside her, stirring the milk, while Ciara and the boys added some cinnamon. The room smelled just like Leona’s childhood and tears pricked her eyes as she remembered her mother.

Making enough for the staff, as they had to be cold as well, they eventually took their drinks to the sitting room. The children gathered by the fire and played some make-believe game. The adult men were not there, and when Ciara sat beside her on the settee, Leona knew a talk was about to happen.

“Are you upset he is leaving?”

“In a way, yes. I don’t understand why. He said he was done with all of that, but the moment she showed up, he has to go.” Her insecurity and an ugly feeling of betrayal rose like the tide.

“And the fact he thinks you and his son are in danger?”

“I do not know what his ex-wife could do to me that I haven’t already experienced in my life. She cannot inflict more pain on me. She has already taken him from me once.” Leona shrugged. “I thought I was ready to be with him but now, I am not so sure.”

Ciara lifted her cup to her lips and sipped. “I understand. What about his son?”

“Yes, do what is necessary to protect him, but again, what we both went through is different. I don’t wish ill on Falcon, I love the boy, but my heart is still unsure.”

Lucien and Trace walked in.

“Hello, princess,” Lucien muttered, kissing his wife.

Leona dropped her gaze to the porcelain cup in her hand. Trace stopped behind her and touched the back of her neck.

“Hello, kitten.” His voice wasn’t loud enough to carry to the children, but she didn’t doubt that Lucien and Ciara had heard him.

It wasn’t fair. All he had to do was speak to her and she felt all the walls that she’d erected to try and keep herself safe falling.

“Trace,” she said with a small smile.

He returned it, then claimed a seat near her but far enough away that there was a respectable distance between them. Unlike the marquess and his wife. Lucien sat right beside his wife and had Ciara curled into him, his arm around her, holding her. Showing everyone that this was his woman and he was oh-so protective of her.

Jealousy burned Leona’s throat and she swallowed hard while she averted her gaze. Focusing on the children, she immediately viewed them there, playing, in portrait form. It would have been rude of her to escape, so she committed the scene to memory, promising herself she would sketch it out later that night.

Before the night was over, the room teemed with family. Lucien and Ciara’s family. Jackson was there as well, but as time ticked by, Leona moved closer and closer to the edge, feeling as though she were an imposter. This wasn’t her world. She wasn’t a member of the peerage and never would be.

She cried off as the men poured another round of drinks.

Up in the studio they’d provided for her, she moved the lamp closer to where she needed it and sat on the lounge, sketching the scene she had been honored to see. Her dogs were with her and the wind howled outside but she was warm and safe.

Time passed as she sketched, and when her body screamed at her to move, she moaned as she stretched, setting the pad to the cushion beside her.

She found Trace leaned in the doorway.

“What are you doing here? And how long have you been there?” She hadn’t heard him arrive.

“I came to tell you good night, but you were so deep in concentration and I did not wish to disturb you. Instead, I opted to watch you.”

“Good night.”

His laugh was warm and familiar.

“It is never going to be that quick between us, kitten. I plan on saying good night for a long time.” He shifted his stance. “Are you heading to bed now?”

“No. Why?”

“Come downstairs with me. I missed talking to you tonight.”

“Can we not talk here?”

His eyes flashed in the flickering light. “I do not have that kind of control around you, kitten. This is why I am still standing over here, because were I to go there…” He took a deep breath. “There would be a sudden lack of clothing.”

Heat flushed through her. She stood, closing the notebook by her side. The dogs rose as one and trailed her to the door. Trace stood back and let her by without a single touch. Together they returned to the first floor. Instead of to the sitting room, he guided her to the library. The fire still burned well there and warmth pushed throughout the room.

“Can I get you two anything?” a maid questioned.

“No, thank you,” Leona replied, then looked to Trace. “At least, not for me.”

“We will be fine, thank you.” Trace smiled.

The maid curtsied and left.

Leona saw why he said that. On the floor by the fire were a thick blanket and a tea service with cookies on it as well. Trace led her there and helped her down. Curling her legs under her, she smiled at him.

“I have not had a picnic in a long time.”

“Last one I had was with you.” His expression sobered and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I have no wish to bring up bad memories.”

“Trace, our past is not going to vanish just because we do not speak about it. I know how our situation was. You were the master’s son and I was the slave girl. That did not change how I felt when we were together. We were just two people and I was in love with you.” She clasped her hands together. “Even my mother could not understand. She thought that you were threatening me and I could not possibly want to go be with you. And I do understand, from her view. She didn’t have a choice with your father. But I did with you.”

He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it.

“Part of me thinks she believed all we did was have sex, but I tried to tell her how you brought me paper and I would spend the entire afternoon drawing while you lay beside me.”

He pressed another kiss to her hand. “I love watching you draw. Tonight reminded me of that.” He released her and gave her some tea and cookies. “The way you studied the paper, the sparkle and pure love in your eyes as you put pencil or charcoal to the sheet for the first time, as if being allowed to see something no one else could at the moment. You were complete joy, and I wanted so much to keep that look on your face all the time.”

He brushed some hair that had escaped the clip at the nape of her neck back from her face.

“It is freeing. Taking a blank canvas or sheet of paper and envisioning where you’re putting your first stroke.” She sipped her tea and shook her head. “The one I remember the most from then was the twin fawns.” Leona squeezed her eyes shut. “I wanted so much to share that one with Mama.”

Trace stretched out, his head toward the fire. “You know she is so proud of you and watches all you do.”

“I like to think so.”

“And do you think she approves of us being together again?”

Leona stared down at him. His gaze was straightforward, the brown hue warm and inviting.

“I believe Mama wants me happy.”

“Even if that happiness comes at the expense of being with a man like me?”

“We were each born into a life, Trace. Each of us had a path laid out for us and both of us diverted from those paths and made our own. Others may look at you and see the plantation owner who had slaves, but I see more. So much more.”

She moved the tea service and adjusted how she sat, beckoning him to rest his head in her lap, much as he had used to do when they were younger.

“I see the boy who taught me to read. The one who would follow me on all my crazy adventures. The one who kissed my injuries and held me until I stopped crying.” She stroked his hair away from his face. “You grew into an amazing young man and I fell in love with you. Even when you were around your family, you were different than they were. Now here you are, a man with a son who you would protect no matter what. How can I not be happy with you?”

“Because I was not there to protect you.”

“And we both know that you would not have been able to stop what I endured.”

“I love you, Leona. You will always be in my heart.”

* * * *

Four months later

Trace stood at the rail and watched the small port town come into view on Eden. The weather here was much warmer than it had been in England when he’d departed. A bevy of mixed emotions rolled inside him.

He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be with his son and Leona, getting ready to marry her. But he couldn’t leave a potential danger to either of them out there. Lucien had said they would be on the lookout for Bethany if she tried to come back.

The journey had been long and hard. They’d lost a bunch of men overboard during some of the storms they’d encountered. Retreating to his cabin, he packed up the last of items he’d brought with him, and waited for them to dock.

He hadn’t let anyone at Hawk’s Cove know he was coming back, not wanting to give Steven or whomever he was working for advance notice. Hiring a hack by the dock, he waited while the man loaded his trunk. Then he gave his destination of where he was to be taken.

The ride wasn’t all that long, but he would have been happier riding a horse instead of being cooped up once more. As the carriage slowed, he instinctively straightened his shoulders and sat up. The general’s large house’s pillars gleamed in the warm tropical sun.

Trace hopped out and smiled at the men who came to remove his belongings. “Is the general home?”

“Yessir.”

“Could you let him know that Colonel Morgan is here to see him?”

“Right away, sir. Miss Ella will get you something to drink inside where it is a bit cooler, if you would like to follow her.”

Trace nodded and trailed the young woman inside.

“I would be lying if I did just hear a rumor you had returned.”

The general’s booming voice had him looking up to the second floor.

Trace smiled at seeing his old commanding officer. “Good to see you again, sir.” He hadn’t changed, still looked fit, like he could vault on the back of a horse and lead his men to victory in battle.

“And you, son. What brings you back here? I thought you were after your woman.”

“She’s waiting for me back in England.”

“And your boy? How is he?” The general looked around. “Did you bring him with you?”

“Much better now, thank you. No, he did not make this journey with me. I left him in good care with some friends of mine while I returned.”

“I need him well. I want him to join the army. If he’s half the man his father was, I need him.”

Trace gave a shake of his head. “I think my son is a bit young to be leading men at the moment.”

The general smiled. “Just do not let him go join the navy or anything like that.” He sobered. “What brings you back?”

“My ex-wife showed up in England.”

The man’s bushy brows slammed together, giving him a unibrow look. “How the hell did she get out?”

Trace lifted his shoulders and flattened his lips. “That is why I came back. I need to make sure that Steven didn’t escape.” He used to call this island home but, he realized that his home was Leona and would be where she was.

“There will be hell to pay if that has happened on my watch.” The general’s expression was full of danger. The general had been willing to fight by his men’s side.

“You will stay here for the night and we will head off in the morning. Right now, we can drink and catch up.”

Trace wanted to go now, but one didn’t simply refute the general and his decision. He got settled in his room and went back down to have conversation with one of the men in his life he could say he actually liked and respected.

* * * *

By the time he retreated to his room again, his exhaustion was complete. Trace crawled into bed and closed his eyes as the warm breeze flowed over him. The island had always been a great temperature and it was a definite improvement over the cold he’d left behind in England.

One thing England had that this place doesn’t is Leona. God, he missed her. Grinding the heel of his palm along his thickening cock, he moaned and shifted on the mattress. Eyes closed tight, he pulled from his memory the way she looked lying beneath him, skin flushed and lips swollen and parted as her breathing fell fast and short. The smoky way she watched him as he thrust in and out of her heat.

Trace gave in to the need and pushed his hand down the front of his bedclothes. His erection was hard and demanding release. He wrapped his hand around it and stroked slowly, wishing it were his woman’s touch as opposed to his own. It wasn’t to be, and he had to accept that. She was nowhere near him, and until he’d resolved this mess and gotten back to her over in England, it was only going to be his familiar hand on his cock.

Stroking fast, he alternated his grip as he moved. Soft. Hard. In between. Pinching the head of his dick, he moaned, denying himself his release. On and on he tormented himself, desperate to hold on to the imagery of Leona’s expression as he brought her to orgasm. How she shuddered around him and bucked, keening as she fell to pieces, trusting he would be there to catch her.

That did it and he came hard, losing his breath. After lying there for a few moments, he cleaned up and crawled back into bed, determined to get some sleep. It was the first night in a long time that he wasn’t on a ship, traveling.

* * * *

The following morning, after they’d been served breakfast, the men climbed on their waiting horses. The ride was silent, much how riding with the general as a solider had been.

The two-hour trip gave Trace time to think about how he was going to handle things if Steven had escaped. He would have to hunt him down, because the man was too damn dangerous to be left to his own devices.

Side by side he and the general entered the jail. The rancid stench of the jail was powerful and he struggled to recall how he had ever been used to smells like this when he’d served. It wasn’t easy. Dirty smelled like shit.

“General Harrington and Colonel Morgan. We need to speak to one of the prisoners.”

“Of course, sir,” the young soldier there said, standing at attention. “Who may I take you to?”

“Steven Morgan.”

Trace held his breath, waiting for the man to inform them he wasn’t in there any longer.

“Yes, sir, right away. If you two will follow me.”

He could breathe a bit easier. Still not confident until he actually laid eyes on his brother, he and the general fell into step behind the man and walked through the darkness to a line of solid-door cells.

“He is all the way at the back, sirs. On the left. If you wish to talk to him out of here, I will have to bring him up to a different room.”

“There is fine,” Trace said, not wanting to be in this place longer than he had to.

“Very good, sirs. The small access door will allow you to see in the room and speak to him.” He saluted and turned to walk away.

“Want me to wait here?” General Harrington questioned after they were left alone.

“If you don’t mind, sir.”

“Not at all. Take your time. I will be here.”

Nodding his thanks, Trace walked down the passageway to the indicated cell and with a deep breath, reached out and opened the small door that allowed him to see in the cell. It was like a door inside a door. When it was opened, you could see in but the person there couldn’t get to you.

A few tiny windows at the top of the cell allowed for a soft filtering of light to penetrate, but it wasn’t a lot. His brother lay on the cot, looking toward the hard, cold stone wall.

“Steven.”

The thin shoulders shook as Steven coughed. “Well now, this does not bode well for my state of mind. Why, you ask? Because I am suddenly hearing my brother’s voice in my head. And which brother would that be, you may inquire? Happy to tell you. The one who let me get locked up in the first place. My baby brother, who I did all I could to protect when we were growing up.”

Trace barely held back his snort of disbelief. Steven was insane if he was under the impression he’d been helping and protecting Trace as they’d grown up.

“Stand up.”

The blanket moved, allowing the man to rise and make his way to the door. Hatred overflowed from Steven’s blue eyes as he glared at Trace, even the low lighting couldn’t stop that.

“So it is you. What? Come to gloat? Decide now I should be killed?”

“You should have already been killed. You plotted against a superior officer.”

Steven spat at him. “Fuck you. Nothing about you was or is superior to me.”

Trace wiped away the wetness without allowing any flicker of expression change. “Everything about me is,” he said, tone low and assured.

“I protected you,” Steven seethed, jabbing a finger toward him. A dirty digit with jagged and disgusting nails.

“You tormented me and made my life hell.”

“I was showing you how life was. You were the stupid fool who thought you fell in love with a slave. We were just showing you how that doesn’t happen. We are superior to them. We want to fuck them, we do. We want to beat them, we do. Animals don’t have a choice.”

Raw fury pumped through Trace’s veins as the words fell from his brother’s lips.

“You have never been so wrong. We were, are, for having thought that way.”

“She was just a fuck. A good one, but just a fuck. How is it you can let a slave come between your brother and you? That you would take her side over mine?”

Trace longed to reach through the space in the door and choke his brother until air no longer flowed, but he didn’t.

“She is not a slave. She is the woman I love and if this barrier were not between us, I would show you how fucking much I will always take her side over yours—or David’s, before he got himself killed.”

“Not this angry about your white wife. What does that say about you?”

“That I do not give a fuck about a cheater and someone who would try to kill me.” Steven inched closer. “Tell me something, do you ever wonder if he is your son?”

“The brat Bethany popped out? Hell no. I will admit to fucking her, hell, even enjoying it because bitch is a sex fiend—loved me fucking her ass and having more than one dick in her at once—and plotting against you with her, but that brat? No way, he’s not mine.” Steven’s face morphed into evilness personified. “You have no clue, do you?” The laughter wasn’t kind.

“No clue about what?”

“Your supposed brat.” He inched closer. “If I gave a damn about you, I might think of telling you, but as I do not… Keep wondering. If he’s not my seed, and he’s not yours, who else’s could he be?”

“Why?” Trace asked the question he’d sworn to himself he wasn’t going to ask. “Why Steven?”

The reason he’d told himself over and over on the boat ride, and even this morning, was that Steven’s actions back then hadn’t mattered, nor had they when he’d plotted to have Trace killed and taken his name. Yet, somehow, the youngest brother who had always wanted to be accepted by his older siblings pushed the question free. It made its way by the man Trace had become. The soldier. The father.

“Is that why you came all this way? To wonder why I hate you so much? Or is the why asking why we did what we did? Not that there is a difference really.”

“Be a decent brother for once in your life, Steven, and tell me what I want to know.” His throat hurt from forcing himself to maintain a calm tone.

“Is that all you want?”

“That is all you have that I want.”

The man leered at him. “Fine, just know that when this is over and your little slave bitch comes back to the island, I am going to fuck her right in front of you before I kill her.”

“You will never have the chance to touch her.” He clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes, wishing again that there wasn’t this door between them and that he could return the favor of all the beatings he’d gotten as a boy from this one who had been supposed to protect him.

“The sad part is you actually believe that. See you when you wake.”

That was his only warning before something heavy hit him in the temple, sending him crumpling to the floor, his brother’s evil cackle echoing in his ears.