Passion's Furies, page 29
A heavy tendril of her dark mane fell across her eyes and he smoothed the lock between his thumb and forefinger before inhaling the fresh scent which clung to it. Her breasts were prominently outlined against the shift that was twisted between their bodies. The ample, dark mounds spilled from the tops of the garment, making the mocha clouds surrounding her nipples just visible. Solomon turned, dropping moist quick kisses along her neck and collarbone as he traveled closer to her chest. There, he scooped one breast from its confinement and encircled its shape with the tip of his nose. He could feel his manhood further extend and moaned as his lips entrapped one of the rigid buds.
Jacinta woke with a silent gasp. She saw Solomon’s head moving against her chest as he pleasured her aching nipples with his incredible kisses. She tugged her lower lip between her teeth to quiet the screams she wanted to reveal. She was so afraid he might stop, that she ordered herself to remain unresponsive.
That order was impossible to obey when Solomon added his fingers to the torture. They glided along her thigh and insinuated themselves within the sweet joining between. Instinctively, her legs parted, weakening beneath the probing caress. Solomon squeezed his eyes shut tight as his fingers were bathed deep inside a well of moisture. Moisture that increased when he added another finger to the intimate massage.
“Solomon…” Jacinta gasped on a whimper, arching her slender form towards him. Her small feet tangled into crisp bed linens and she opened herself to more of the overwhelming treat. She could feel his powerful length nudging her thigh, and she forced herself not to demand that he delight her with that area of his anatomy. She wanted nothing to spoil the sensuous moment. The closeness was desired and very much missed and needed. When Solomon’s restraint was spent, he rose, pulling Jacinta with him. He held her back against his chiseled frame as they knelt in the center of the bed. With his handsome face buried in the mass of coal black tresses, Solomon brought his hands around to cup her breasts once more. His thumbs and forefingers alternated between stroking the buds into hard peaks and manipulating them as she writhed in pleasure.
Jacinta nudged her bottom against his pronounced erection, silently begging that he provide her with ultimate fulfillment. Solomon’s hands left her chest to venture past her flat stomach. Briefly, he played in the crisp, dark curls sheltering her womanhood. Then, he gripped her hips and situated her to his satisfaction. Within seconds, Jacinta felt the smooth, hard intrusion of his sex as it invaded her yearning femininity. She could have fainted from the pleasure, but Solomon held her fast. One hand cupped a full breast, while the other remained firmly planted at her hip. His thrusts were slow. He deliberately taunted, making her want to beg for more. Jacinta’s hands covered his at her breast as she met the force of each thrust. Her hair enveloped them in a cloud of smoky black. Their bodies rocked in time to the sway and dip of the ship, it seemed. Jacinta’s heart raced with delight as she reveled in the confident manner Solomon handled her body. He took her several times as they made love late into the morning. His passion thoroughly spent, Solomon laid across Jacinta, his heavy frame completely shielding her petite body. Jacinta didn’t mind at all. She felt the warmth of happiness embrace her as she lay curled in her husband’s arms.
Sadly, however, the sexual interlude had not removed the tension between them. Once Solomon’s arousal had lost its stiffness and his breathing slowed, he left her. Jacinta realized nothing had changed, and tears pooled her eyes.
* * *
The day was indeed a dreary one. Rainstorms plagued the passengers and crew off and on. For Jacinta, the weather was a perfect match to her mood. The comfort she’d experienced in realizing Solomon needed her physically was fleeting. She needed more. She wanted to talk to him—to explain that he was wrong to think that she didn’t want his child.
She remained close to the quarters, not caring for the way men’s eyes raked her face and form. The blatant lust in their eyes certainly enraged their female travel companions. The women regarded Jacinta disdainfully, as though she were to blame for the men’s incessant stares. Thankfully, the cabin had a small balcony complete with a little wooden tea table and two matching swayback chairs. Grateful for the solitude, she draped her black shawl across the arm of the chair and took refuge in the serene view of the Atlantic.
Some time later, Solomon returned to the cabin. He masked the concern on his face before entering. He had been searching for his wife, and had seen nothing of her since he left that morning. Morning, he thought, stifling a grunt as pleasurable thoughts sent a familiar tightening below his waist. He had missed her so, and the closeness they’d shared had been heaven-sent. Still, knowing she harbored such feelings about his heritage hit him like a dash of cold water once the heat of passion was spent.
A look of contentment softened his striking features when he found his wife napping on the balcony. Not caring for the way she slept slumped down in the chair—and wanting a reason to hold her-he carried her to the bed. Jacinta didn’t stir, and Solomon went back to the balcony to collect her shawl.
He found her book of thoughts in the opposite chair. Against all his adversity to the material, he couldn’t stop himself from picking it up and scanning its contents. More had been written since he last read, but Solomon only wanted to see the dreaded passage again. He turned right to the entry as though it had called out to him from inside the crisp pages.
His lips tightened as he read the lines which were burned into his memory. A frown began to tug at his sleek brows as he read on. He glanced toward his wife, half expecting to see her smiling–smug over the fact that she was succeeding in fooling him again.
No, she was oblivious to it all. He told himself it was a trick, a ruse to put her back in his favor. But the way the words flowed in feeling…he knew he had misjudged her. He had read an unfinished thought. He had intruded upon her privacy, her creative flow, and he was ruining their marriage because of it.
Solomon brushed his fingers across the words and shook his head to ward off the tears pressuring his ebony eyes. Jacinta wanted his child and she was blaming herself for the loss. She was hurt and confused by his mood and believed he blamed her as well. She believed he did not love her anymore.
Solomon replaced the book where he’d found it. Tightening his grip on the shawl, he approached the bed and draped it across her legs and stocking feet.
“Jacinta…” he whispered, and then brushed his cheek against hers before he left the cabin.
CHAPTER 22
June 1822
No matter the depth of blood and tears that teamed below the oyster white sand of Charleston’s city streets, Jacinta felt exuberant. Being home again after so many months was a feeling like no other. The feeling was short-lived, however, when she saw the men in chains and those with welted backs, hefting trunks and other baggage from the steamships that had recently arrived into port. She was so absorbed by the scene it startled her when Solomon’s hands closed over her shoulders.
“Stay close to me while I see to the bags,” he whispered against her cheek.
Jacinta nodded, managing an easy smile even as her brown eyes misted with confusion. She didn’t trust herself to accept that Solomon had been behaving quite differently during the last weeks of the trip back to South Carolina. He treated her as though they were strangers—friendly acquaintances. It was as though he were uncertain about how to approach her. She felt none of the coldness he had shown towards her. Could he be having a change of heart? Was he finally ready to listen to her explanations?
Jacinta heard her name across the wharf and frowned. Setting her hand against her brow, she frowned against the mid-morning sun and her mouth formed a perfect O when she spied a familiar face from McIver Estate.
“Beta!” she cried, rushing forth to reach for the housemaid’s outstretched hands. “Oh, Beta,” she sighed, hugging the girl tightly.
Beta’s lovely, caramel-toned face appeared even more radiant when she laughed. “Oh, Jaci, it’s so good to have you home!” she said, pulling back to look into her friend’s face.
Jacinta hoped her smile appeared genuine.
“Everyone so excited ’bout seeing you. They all so envious when Mister Jason choose me to come with Mitchell to town to fetch you,” Beta went on, referring to the driver who waited in the carriage a ways off. Her animated expression dimmed just a bit then. “I wish your visit could come at a better time,” she lamented.
Jacinta was nodding. “Yes, I pray Poppa’s health will take a turn for the better during my stay.”
“Oh, Jaci, it has!” Beta cried, brushing her gloved hand across Jacinta’s arm. “He’s getting’ back more of his old strength, and he even taking a few meals outside his bedchamber. The doctor say he still need more rest, but even he know that’s hard with all that’s happening.”
In spite of such wonderful news, Jacinta’s lovely round face was a picture of confusion. “Beta, I don’t understand. You say Poppa’s much better, what more could be happening?”
Beta glanced toward the passing whites quickly before lowering her eyes to the slick wooden slabs on the deck. “The great man has been betrayed.”
Jacinta’s heart lurched and she glanced suspiciously at passersby. She made certain that Solomon wasn’t near to overhear anything pertaining to the subject. “How?” she asked.
Beta was shaking her head. “It happened in May…a Peter Desverneys and George Wilson. We believe they was the ones.”
“Why?” Jacinta breathed, quickly recalling that one of the men Beta spoke of was mulatto. She shook her head to dismiss the thought.
Beta was wringing her hands. “They live good lives, so they think. It was probably too much for them to think on. I b’lieve some slaves just as afraid to be free as white people is to let ’em free.”
“Oh, no,” Jacinta sighed, feeling a rush of tears pressure her eyes. She knew it would be unwise to display such emotions in broad daylight and suppressed the urge to submit to a good cry. Still, her mind swam with the reality of what had happened.
In fact the betrayers were both slaves, well cared for in their opinions and by the standards in which most slaves were treated. Actually, one might understand their concern over an uprising that may bring harm to their owners. The slave Desverneys belonged to a Colonel Prioleau of Charleston. He was a “house servant”, and it was well known that the class of slaves fared far batter than their less fortunate brethren who toiled in the fields of rice and cotton with only the lash of the overseer as a ‘reward’ for work.
Once the two slaves were off and running to their masters with news of the coming revolt, the city was turned inside out.
At first, little credence was given to the story. There were no news articles or rampant arrests. Though the city council did question several ‘suspicious slaves’, they managed to keep the community ignorant of the plot. Of course, the newspapers were soon full of the story after a number of arrests had been made. The plot was foiled, a public investigation commenced and Denmark Vesey’s name was on everyone’s lips.
“We’ll discuss this later,” Jacinta told Beta when she noticed Solomon heading towards them.
“Beta!” he greeted her, leaning down to drop a jovial kiss to the young woman’s cheek.
“Mister Solomon!” Beta gushed, her caramel-toned face darkening when she blushed.
“The carriage is packed and ready to take us back,” he announced, offering Beta his arm while dropping an arm across his wife’s shoulders and pulling her into a closer embrace.
The air was breezy and warm, yet Jacinta felt a shiver race her spine in response to her husband’s contact. “Thank you,” she whispered, having summoned the courage to speak. “Thank you for coming with me,” she clarified.
Solomon stared straight ahead as they walked along the crowded wharf. “Your beauty would do anything but keep you safe.”
The compliment forced her to smile, but she didn’t remark upon it. “It’s just that with all your concerns…your business is so vast.”
Solomon held her back and allowed Beta to precede them. “You are my business,” he told her.
The look in his eyes left no doubt in Jacinta’s mind that his cold demeanor was melting.
Not wanting to ruin whatever was happening between them; Jacinta remained silent during the walk to the carriage. Solomon spoke with Beta, who blushed profusely when he laughed over her comment about the way everyone was bustling about in preparation for the return of ‘Mister Jason’s handsome houseguest.
The mood inside the carriage was warm and gay, but Jacinta found that she could not thoroughly enjoy it. Not when she looked out the window towards the Work House. The overseers were like foreboding beasts towering above from their positions on horseback. Behind the massive animals, black men trudged along with their hands and feet bound in rusting iron shackles.
Solomon could see the dismay on his wife’s face and cursed himself for having to bring her back there. Unfortunately, he had to acknowledge that Charleston was her home, and it was only natural and right that she would be concerned over its condition. He took her gloved hand, which was balled into a shaking fist. Tenderly, he unclenched her fingers, entwining his own between them to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. Jacinta closed her eyes against the horror past the window and drew strength from the sweet gesture. She’d never treasured anything as much.
* * *
The travelers arrived at McIver Estate, and Jacinta rediscovered her exuberance. The place was unchanged and even more enchanting. Jacinta raced out of the carriage, unmindful of her fancy rose blush dress with its lace trimmed hem, sleeves and bodice, The matching hat had fallen from her head and only hung on thanks to the gauzy cream bow that was still tied about her neck. She was too busy hugging, kissing, talking and laughing with the house staff of McIver Estate, the people who comprised her family. She glanced around to see Solomon helping to unload the bags before setting off to locate her father. Of course, she found Jason McIver in the last place he needed to be—his office. Papers cluttered every square inch of the sturdy pine desk surrounding Jason and his assistant, whose head was bowed as he scribbled furiously to keep up with the rapid dictation from his employer.
“Well, isn’t this a familiar and completely impermissible sight!”
Both Jason and Herman Sims looked up at Jacinta’s bellow. In moments, Jason was on his feet and rushing forward to greet his only child.
“My love,” he sighed, enfolding her in the tightest embrace. He laughed when he heard her sobs of happiness. “There, there love.”
“Poppa, I missed you so,” Jacinta’s voice was like a shudder as she inhaled the scent of brandy and pipe smoke clinging to her father’s black linen shirt.
“Shh…”
“I didn’t know what to think,” Jacinta said, pulling back enough to look into her father’s kind cinnamon brown face. “I was so worried that something would happen before I could get back-the trip was so very long and—”
“Shh, Jaci, shh…” Jason urged, patting her cheek that time. “Curse Dot and that ‘I know what’s best’ mind of hers!”
“Poppa,” Jacinta scolded.
“Bah!” Jason spat with a quick wave. “ ’Twas only something minor. There was no need for ’em to pull you away from your new home.”
“I would’ve been very upset had they done otherwise,” Jacinta assured the man while untying the gauzy bow in order to remove the elaborate hat. “It is my place to be here,” she added.
“Your place is with your husband,” Jason corrected, noticing a strange glint flicker in his daughter’s eyes. “That’s all for now, Herme,” he called to his assistant.
Herman figured as much and had already gathered his belongings. “Good to see you home, Miss Jaci,” he whispered, reaching out to squeeze one of her hands within his frail looking one.
“Thank you, Herme,” she said, covering the man’s slender hand with her other.
“I shouldn’t be surprised to find you working, but I’d hoped this would convince you to stop pushing yourself so,” Jacinta told her father once they were alone in the office. “What ails you?” she asked.
Again, Jason waved his hand. “Doctor says fatigue, stress and poor diet contributed.”
“Poppa, how many times have we begged you to pay attention to all those things and—”
“Jaci, Jaci, please. My word, anyone who lives here knows how impossible it is to rest these days.”
Jacinta bowed her head, pressing her lips together. “I understand.”
Jason heard the underlying meaning in her words. “How much do you know?”
“Beta says Mister Vesey was betrayed by slaves, no less—the very people he wanted to help.”
“The irony is so very bitter,” Jason admitted with a slow, defeated shake of his head.
Jacinta began to remove her gloves. “How bad is it?”
“You mean, ‘have there been any hangings’?”
“Oh Poppa, surely—”
“I can promise you it will most certainly come to that.”
“Beta said one of Colonel Prioleau’s slaves, Peter Desverneys, was a betrayer. I believe I’ve seen him on occasion,” Jacinta said, tossing her gloves to where the hat lay on a long chair. “He’s mulatto, isn’t he?”
Jason pulled all ten fingers through the unruly head of gray hair that already appeared to be standing on end. “I think that hurt most of all. This will put an even deeper rift within the race.”
Jacinta gave a noticeable swallow past the ball of emotion lodged in her throat. Her father noticed.
“How is Solomon?” he asked.
“He’s well.”
The simple response, combined with her reaction to his earlier mention of her marriage, told Jason much. Clearly Jacinta was in no mood to discuss it, so Jason decided there would be plenty of time later to approach the subject.
