Flight of the Hawk, page 3
“Pretty close. In fact, close enough.”
He reached out an arm and caught her in his strong grip. Leona ignored the feeling he invoked in her, but from his expression he had already felt her response. There was something between them even though he had never even seen what she looked like. As an adult. He pulled her to stand between his legs. Trace put his hands on her face.
He closed his eyes like he was memorizing her face with his hands. She tried to imagine what he felt when he did. Then she listened to him muttering to himself as his touch moved over her.
“Skin as soft as silk. Long eyelashes. A somewhat flat button nose, leading to full lips. Graceful neck that leads down to a full chest.”
His hands lingered over her full breasts as he committed them to memory. Her waist was tiny and her hips flared before he found her firm legs.
Leona didn’t move, just allowed his touch to send her to heaven. Her eyes fell closed and her head lolled back as he continued his perusal of her. When he buried his face into her stomach she just about lost control of her legs.
“Beautiful. You are beautiful. I know that much. What color are your eyes? Your hair?”
“My hair is black. My eyes are light brown, tan.” Leona stepped back, needing to get some space from him in order to regain her control.
Trace felt her separation from him deep within his heart. But he let her go, angry at himself for his lack of control. He had a wife. He had a son. With her words though, he put together a picture in his mind. To his surprise, it looked vaguely familiar. Not at all what he expected.
Leona spoke again. “I am going to lie down for a nap. I don’t feel all that well.”
“I will take one also.” Trace knew exactly where her bed was. It was twenty steps from his own. He waited until he heard her lie down before he lay back himself.
* * * *
Trace, aged sixteen
Their lips met for the umpteenth time. Now whenever they were together they were exploring their bodies. The same jolt speared both of them, jerking them apart. She didn’t doubt her eyes were wild with fear, uncertainty and a rising passion. His full of desire and the knowledge of what they were doing. At sixteen, he was aware of his sexuality and she was beginning to understand hers.
With one step he reduced the distance between them. His touch was extremely gentle as he stroked her cheek with his callused hand. Letting her know he would never hurt her. “You are beautiful, little one. I am not even supposed to be interested in you. My father says I am to marry someone from up the road. But I can’t get you out of my head. My heart. Tell me you feel it as well. Tell me you feel the same way about me as I do about you. Tell me!” It was a command.
The young girl answered, “You know I do, even if I am not supposed to. I think about you all the time.”
If possible, he stepped closer to her. Encircled her with his arms, holding her snugly in his embrace, already showing the strength Trace’s arms would have when he was fully grown. She had seen him in fights delivering out punishing blows with those arms and fists of iron. But now they held her as if she were the most delicate piece of lace.
Their trembling bodies touched as he lowered his mouth to hers yet again. At the same time his hand found her budding breast, causing a rush of wetness and pleasure to course through her body.
Suddenly they were jerked apart. Angry brown eyes glared at them both as they were dragged away. Away from each other. A gunny sack dropped over her head, blocking out all daylight, leaving her to smell the stale scent of the grain that had been in the sack.
The young girl heard the voices saying that she had done this before. With him, and that he had confirmed it. Her heart shattered at the news of his betrayal. Before the night was over she received fifteen lashes on her virgin skin.
She stayed proud and silent as the whip fell again and again on her back as she hung by her wrists, marking her forever. Never had she felt such pain. Only when she was back with her mother did she allow the tears to fall. Not tears from the pain of the whip, but from the pain of his treachery.
She grew up fast that day, not that it mattered. He was never there to see it. In fact, he never saw her again.
* * * *
Leona awoke feeling sick. Silently she rose and headed for the hot springs. She groaned as she sank into the water, let the steam and warmth work its magic on her.
Her calm was broken by the shuffle of steps that heralded his arrival. “Would you like some company? Or is this time just for you?”
“I am just soaking, feel free to join me.” Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips and she was for a second, glad he couldn’t see her, knowing full well he would be witness to the raging lust in her eyes.
“You know, if we were back home this would be highly improper. Then again, maybe not, since I am blind and can’t see your body anyway.”
Leona smiled at his words. “If you could see you wouldn’t be here anyway. So it really doesn’t matter. Come in.”
Trace dropped his clothes and carefully made his way into the pool of warmth. He smiled and she realized he’d heard her sharp intake of breath.
“Is it fair that you can look upon mine and I can’t see yours?” he teased.
Leona sensed his joyful mood and ran with it. “Probably not. But you won’t hear any arguments from me. If you wish, I can close my eyes as well.”
“If you think that will make it easier for you.”
“Sure, I can picture whatever I want.”
A low, primitive growl emerged from his throat.
Leona smiled. He wanted her. She could hear him, and she felt his jealousy as he tried to control it. It made her toes curl to imagine this type of power. Revenge would be so sweet.
After a bit, Leona stood. “I am going to get something ready to eat then later maybe we can go outside for a bit. It is time for you to start navigating out in the open.”
Trace nodded, and when he spoke, his words were clear. “Fine, I will go with you.” He too rose from the water. Baring all to Leona’s hungry gaze.
What the hell did I get myself into? How will I control my longings? Leona asked herself as she followed the naked and very beautiful man up to the main part of her home.
As she got food ready, Trace wandered and counted as he prepared himself for the outdoors. He had a pair of boots that Leona gave to him to wear. They were fur-lined and very warm.
She watched him deliberately place himself on her bed, wanting or needing to touch a part of her, she wasn’t sure, but she liked him there.
“How is it you have a hot spring in your home? Where are we?”
“It is not in my home as much as connected to my home.”
“It’s like the healing waters of Bath, a place in England people go to get healed. Supposedly.”
“Have you been to England?”
She wasn’t able to hide the longing in her voice.
“Yes. I have been. Bunch of arrogant rich people.”
Not much different from the plantation owners, Leona thought. “I would love to go. To have a small cabin by the sea. A piece of land to call my own. I think it would be wonderful.”
“I will keep my plantation, thanks. I like where I live. That is, if we don’t have to give everything up because of the war. Then I don’t know what I would do.”
Leona’s eyes narrowed and her teeth bared a silent snarl. “Perhaps we should go outside for now.”
Trace rose and put out his arm for her to take. Leona took it after putting on her coat. His touch still affected her even through both their coats.
She took him outside and let him enjoy the fresh air before they began to walk. Even though she knew he counted, she made sure that there were no tracks left behind. The snow had vanished and spring was well on its way.
Leona’s senses were all alert. Tuned to pick up the slightest sound. They were all good sounds for her to hear. Nothing new or strange approached.
They spent the afternoon and evening outside. Together they headed back in when they were hungry for dinner. Trace attempted to help by trying to set the table. Dinner was a strained affair. Leona couldn’t forget his comment and while she understood Trace had no way of reading her expression, it didn’t make things any easier.
“Is there anyone you would like to contact? I have to go to town, so I could send a note for you.”
“Can I go into town with you?”
“No. I don’t wish it to be known that there is a man staying with me.”
“Why? Are you married? Is your husband in this war?”
“No, unlike you, I am not married. But I do have a reputation. And I don’t want it ruined.”
“I can respect that.”
“I will go in the morning. If you change your mind about a note let me know. I am going to bed. Good night, Colonel Morgan.”
“Good night, Elle. Please call me Trace. Everyone does.”
Everyone but your slaves. “Very well. Good night, Trace.” Her voice dropped an octave as she said his name.
* * * *
Trace, aged fifteen
He knew she was young. She knew she was, but some of the other girls had already lain with guys at her age. Some were going to have children. He knew she loved him despite her not having said the words. Was she scared? Should he say them first?
Moaning with pleasure, he pulled out of her tight warmth and spilled his seed on her stomach. He always took care so she wouldn’t end up pregnant. It was amazing with her. Almost spiritual. Something that felt so wonderful, so perfect couldn’t be wrong. Could it?
They lay entwined. Naked in the sun. His hand wrapped in her thick soft hair. As their breathing slowed, he whispered to her how he felt.
“I love you. I know I am not supposed to, but I do. I will always protect you. Do you believe me? Do you?”
“I know how you feel. I can feel it inside me. Your happiness and sorrow, I feel it all. What you feel, I feel. I don’t know how, but I can. I love you too. And yes, I believe that you will always protect me.”
“Good, sleep now. I will keep watch.” He pressed her face against his chest and smiled contentedly when she fell asleep. She was his. He would not marry that other woman. He wanted her.
“Liar! You were supposed to protect me. You lied to me. You are a liar!” The voice, so filled with hatred and venom, blared to life inside his head, shattering the peace he had found.
Trace bolted up in bed. Sweat poured down his face. The voice was right—he hadn’t protected her. He had let her down.
His anguish was too intense to keep quiet and he moaned softly to the night air.
“Trace? What is it? What is wrong?” Elle sank on the bed beside him, hand on his shoulder.
His hands groped blindly for her and he pulled her down beside him as he fell back. “I failed. I couldn’t keep her safe.”
Elle slid her arm around him and rubbed his back. “I am sure she is all right. Don’t worry so.”
“No, you don’t understand. I failed. I failed her. I failed her!”
“When you get home, you can make it up to her. I’m sure.”
“No, it’s too late for that.” His voice was so full of despair.
She sat with him in silence for a while.
“Get some sleep. Maybe it won’t seem so bad in the morning. Just so you know I’ll be gone for most of the day. I will leave food out for you on the table. Good night.” Elle gave him a quick hug and rose to head back to her own bed.
Trace fell back to sleep. Only to have his dreams invaded by of pictures of his brothers laughing about how much blood there had been. Explaining it all to him in detail as they untied him from where they had kept him prisoner.
* * * *
Leona awoke early. She dressed quickly then headed out to town. She walked fast and stayed hidden until she was on the outskirts. Then and only then did she walk on the trail.
Her first stop was the general store. She entered the store and was immediately surrounded by people who were overly exuberant.
“Did you hear the good news?” the general store owner, Paul, asked.
“I was worried about you, lass, out there all alone. None of the soldiers found you though, I see. That’s wonderful. Isn’t it great?” That was from Jackson O’Neill.
“What?” Leona was thoroughly confused. “What’s so wonderful?”
Jackson, a big burly Irishman who had somehow found his way to this island, picked her up and spun her around. “We’ve won! The war is over here. We won. They are gone!”
Jackson stood about five inches over six feet and had raven-black hair that he kept cropped close to his head. He had tan skin from his daily schedule of working outside and his eyes were a vibrant blue-green, like the clear ocean waters that surrounded the island. He looked very good for his age. In fact, he looked much younger than his actual age.
Trace bolted upright in the bed. Someone was touching her. A man touched her. Jealousy reared its ugly head and roared to life inside him. His low growl was one of danger—danger to the one who dared touch what was his.
Leona felt the rumble deep within her. A smile crossed her face. He knew where she was and what was going on. She opened her mind and feelings to him even more. Time for him to feel what it was like.
She’d discovered this connection with Trace when they were young. Neither could explain it but she could always feel his emotions, even when they weren’t together, and he’d relayed he could with hers as well.
The bond between them was unique and special.
With a laugh, Leona hugged Jackson back. They had done it. They had won. “What about causalities? How many did we lose?”
“Not as bad as it could have been. The battle in Rainbow’s Field was the battle turning point. Their whole unit was wiped out.” Jackson still had his arm around her.
“Their colonel was supposedly killed there as well. But we have a person who is claiming to be Colonel Morgan. They were just not ready for all the opposition that we gave them. They are gone. We are free of them and their twisted ideas.” At his message her heart skipped a beat. Someone claiming to be Trace? Who could it be?
Leona asked questions about the prisoners. Who would be posing as Trace? Could it be someone else who could recognize her and take her back? “What is this Colonel Morgan like?”
Jackson smiled down at her. “You are just too full of questions. He is over in the jail. If you want, I will take you there.” Jackson had fallen in love with Leona’s mother and knew of the name Morgan and what it meant to her and her mother.
“Yes. I would like to go and look at him.”
“Very well, lass. Let’s go.” He rose and took her arm. They made a quiet march through the town that celebrated their victory.
As they approached the jail, Leona looked at Jackson. Such a dear man. As close to a father as she had ever known, she truly loved him. Her love for him was transmitted to Trace, who answered with another low rumble of jealousy.
Chapter Four
As she entered into the darkened building, Leona unconsciously stepped closer to the large man beside her. She closed down her link with Trace as much as she could, as she didn’t want him to be exposed to the full extent of her emotions anymore. Jackson spoke to the sergeant in charge. When the man opened the door for them to walk back to the prisoners, Leona’s breath became short.
Jackson walked beside her as they went down the aisle toward where the supposed colonel was being kept. In a solitary cell sat a man.
The man was large and had wide shoulders. He had Trace’s narrow waist, but that was where the similarities ended. The man had blond hair, unkempt and dirty so it appeared brown. His eyes were an angry nondescript blue.
He sneered at her. “Oh look, a darkie bitch.”
Jackson responded immediately, lunging forward clearly with the full intent of ripping the insolent man to pieces. Leona’s touch on his arm stopped him, but only barely.
“I would like to have a private word with the colonel, please.”
“What could I possibly have to say to a Ni— Darkie?” The man spat in her direction.
Leona struggled to hold on to her temper. “I have news about your wife.” The man posing as Colonel Morgan fell silent and waited for her to continue. Leona turned to Jackson and said, “I will be all right. I do not think he will hurt me. Leave us, please.”
“I don’t like this at all, Leo…” He stopped at her pleading look. “Very well. I will wait over here.” As Jackson turned his deadly gaze at the prisoner he vowed, “You hurt a single hair on her head, and I will personally see to your long and painful death.” The Irishman turned and walked off to leave them in a relatively private situation.
The imposter came to the bars and glared at her. “Well, what is it? What do you know of my wife?”
Leona stepped closer, until she could have reached out and touched the man. Close enough that his ripe stench didn’t miss her nose and made her gag. “I know you are not Colonel Morgan. You are an imposter. What would they do if they knew what you had done to your commanding officer? Why, you would probably wish to remain here in the prison.”
At her admission, the man’s eyes bulged and he looked panicked. “What do you know? You are making this up. All darkies lie.” Even though the man’s eyes showed fear, his voice still contained enough venom to make her shiver and wish to be anywhere but there.
Leona narrowed her eyes in response. Over the years her experiences had taught her she didn’t like to be scared and threatened. “I know exactly who and what you are, Steven. I know all about you, your secret obsession with the colonel’s wife. Everything.”
Paling, the filthy man reached for her but stopped as he saw Jackson step forward with a menacing glare. “How do you know who I am? Bethany said no one should know me here.” As soon as he said it, he saw his mistake.
Realization dawned. Trace’s wife had set him up in order to be with his older brother. The thought left her cold. Rage began to rise within her. She realized she was unconsciously transmitting her feelings to Trace. First the fear and now the rage, for their link could never be completely closed.
