The Raging Hearts: The Coltrane Saga, Book 2 (23 page)

She began to pace up and down the room, unconcerned that she was still naked. “First she took Nathan from me, even though he loved me. He was only a man, young and anxious to sow his seed. Kitty gave him favors that no decent young lady would think of bestowing outside of matrimony. She drove him crazy, as only a trollop knows how to do to a man.”

He walked over to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy. Tossing it down unceremoniously, he whirled about to face the wide-eyed, staring woman who stood before him naked.

“I’ll tell you what I believe, Nancy. I believe that Nathan Collins never loved you, that it was Kitty he wanted, and with good reason. Not only is she beautiful, but she is a lady. High-spirited, I will be the first to admit, but she has a quality you wouldn’t understand. I’ve heard other stories, too, from Rebel soldiers who were at Bentonville, and they say that Nathan was actually deserting his men, kidnapping Kitty to head for Virginia where he thought he could escape the rest of the war. I have heard, also, that he shot Kitty’s father in the back. Captain Coltrane just happened along at the right time, and he took revenge for a man he admired greatly. I believe Nathan was a coward, Nancy.

“And”—he paused to smile—”who are you to condemn Kitty for giving herself to a man outside of marriage when you do the same thing yourself? I have also heard that your husband is not really dead, as you would have everyone believe. That makes you an adulteress, my dear, which is much worse than what you condemn Kitty for having done. She did not betray a husband.”

Nancy paled. “David is dead,” she spoke in a barely audible whisper. “I don’t know who has been telling you lies, but he is dead.”

“Did you ever receive official notice from the Confederate Army?”

“Many men are missing in action. No one knows what happened to them. David is dead. I know he is.”

“Have you bothered to inquire? I think not. You see, my sweet, I heard that he returned home an amputee, and you were repulsed. The fool loved you, and he was heartbroken when you rejected him. So he returned to the war. It’s said that he is living in the mountains with an old couple who lost their son in the war and adopted David.”

“I don’t know where David is,” she said flatly. “Nor do I care. As far as I am concerned, he is dead.”

He poured himself another glass of brandy, sipping it slowly as his eyes raked over her body. She was not unattractive, but she had a vicious, ugly way about her. He found her quite unbearable at times. “Would you please go?” he said quietly. “I wish to bathe and dress and go in to see Kitty. She will rest more comfortably when she learns that you are out of the house.”

Suddenly Nancy’s face contorted with pain, and tears sprang to her eyes. She threw herself on her knees before him, wrapping her arms about his legs, and cried, “Please, Corey, don’t send me away. I love you. I love you more than my life. I want to marry you and be with you always. I’ll do anything you want, anything you say, but please don’t send me away. I can’t live without you.”

He felt no pity. She had known her position in his life, and he had never promised her anything. True, she tried in every way to satisfy his sexual desires, no matter how painful or vicious they might be at times. Never had she complained. It was her possessiveness that he found so difficult, that and her fanatical hatred of the woman he adored.

He set down his brandy glass, then pushed her aside and walked over to pull the ball cord. She was sobbing, beating her fists on the floor hysterically. “I won’t leave you, Corey. I won’t let her take advantage of you. I have to stay to protect you. You’ll see I’m right…”

“Yassuh?” The Negro servant, dressed neatly in the red coat and white pants that Corey required, looked at his master and not at the screaming, naked woman writhing on the floor. He deliberately kept his eyes averted.

“Get some of the women servants to pack Mrs. Stoner’s belongings,” Corey’s voice boomed as he walked past the Negro and out of the parlor. “Have one of my carriages take her to the hotel in town and pay the bill for a week. After that, she is on her own.”

“I’m not leaving!” Nancy screamed, reaching to grab the bottle of brandy from the sideboard and send it crashing into the fireplace. Glass exploded, and the servant looked to Corey helplessly.

“Drag her out of here if she keeps acting like a madwoman,” he snarled. “Leave her on the main road, naked, if she continues this tirade. I want her out of this house in fifteen minutes. Is that clear?”

“Yassuh.” The Negro shook his head, eyes wide with fear.

Corey hurried up the stairs, anxious to remove himself from Nancy. God, why had he allowed himself to become so involved with her? He should have seen what it was all leading up to. It would have been far better to bring in a prostitute from town.

Hugo, his personal manservant, was waiting with a tub of hot water and fresh clothing. “How is Miss Wright?” Corey demanded at once. “Has she awakened yet?”

“Sir, I spoke with Dulcie in the kitchen a short while ago.” Hugo spoke with the distinct “white” pronunciation that Corey had ordered him to master, though the tone was still slurred with the Negro accent. “She said Miss Wright was stirring a bit but still asleep from the laudanum the doctor gave her. She said she was going to fix her something to eat and take it into her and try to get her to wake up. She said the doctor said it was important that Miss Wright eat and get her strength back, ’specially with the baby to be nursed.”

Corey had stripped off his clothes and was about to sink down into the deliciously warm water, but he stopped to glare at Hugo and snap, “She will not nurse that baby.”

“But, sir—”

“Don’t argue with me, man. You go to Dulcie at once and tell her that baby is not to be put to Miss Wright’s breast. Find a wet nurse. I’m sure there are plenty of women about with nursing infants. I will tell the good doctor myself that I do not want Miss Wright nursing her baby. Now do as I say.”

Hugo nodded and turned to leave, but Corey called out once again, “And the baby is not to be taken in to her until I have seen her. Tell Dulcie I will personally take the tray in myself. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” Hugo nodded and hurried out, closing the door behind him, but not before Corey heard Nancy, still screaming.

Damn, he cursed, slipping into the water. He wished they would hurry up and get that woman out. When he went in to see Kitty, he did not want that infernal shrieking in the background. Giving birth was a joyful experience for a woman, he supposed, no matter what the circumstances, and she would naturally feel a fondness for the person who visited her first and told her about her newborn. He also reasoned that she was going to be extremely grateful to him for saving her life by bringing her here. It was a step toward his goal.

But there would be no nursing of the infant, he thought with disgust as he lathered his body with the fragrant soap. No, he would not see another man’s child suckling upon the breast of the woman he intended to marry. Besides, the sucking might cause her breasts to sag. He wasn’t too sure about such things, and he wasn’t going to worry about it. He just wasn’t going to allow it. The milk would dry up. A wet nurse would be found. Everything would turn out all right, and it would be his lips that devoured her nipples hungrily, not some illegitimate brat sired by a man who had known what he had yet to know. No, he just wouldn’t have it.

Hugo returned in time to wrap his master in a thick towel and pat him dry. A devoted servant, he was paid well and was eager to remain in favor. He said that he had given Dulcie the instructions, and she would leave the tray for him to take in to Miss Wright. She was sure a wet nurse could be found. Corey was also relieved to hear that Nancy Stoner had been removed from the mansion—still screaming, half-dressed, her belongings piled messily in the back of the carriage. Thank God, she was on her way to town and out of his life.

He dressed carefully, wanting to look casual, to create the right atmosphere for his meeting with Kitty. He wore dark trousers and decided on a pale blue muslin shirt, left open at the throat so that the hairs on his chest would show. Let her see that he had a good body. Let her see him as a real man. Splashing just a hint of cologne about his neck, he decided that he gave the appearance of a warm, friendly neighbor seeking only to rescue a damsel in distress.

“You look real nice, sir,” Hugo commented, not used to seeing his master dressed so informally, even about the house. He always wore silk shirts and frock coats, obviously enjoying his station in life.

“Yes, I think so,” Corey agreed as he looked at himself. “We must not overwhelm Miss Wright, Hugo. Like all females, she loves the finer things of life. However, if they are flaunted before her, she lets her pride build a wall about her. We must be very subtle.”

His servant looked confused. “I don’t think I understand, sir. Miss Wright, she going to be here just a little while, till she gets well. So why you talking like you are?”

Corey whirled around angrily. “And why are you talking as you are, you fool? I spent a great deal of money bringing in tutors to teach you how to talk, so people would know that Corey McRae would not stand for an ignorant nigra to be his manservant. ‘Miss Wright, she’,” he mimicked. “What kind of grammar is that? You know better, Hugo. Don’t let me hear you make such a blunder again.”

Hugo hung his head. “Yes sir. I’m sorry, sir.” He spoke very clearly, trying not to drawl. He knew Mr. McRae hated the accent he had been unable to lose completely.

Corey turned back to the mirror, decided to unbutton his shirt one more buttonhole. “As for how long Miss Wright stays, I will let you in on a little secret, Hugo. I hope she remains forever. I would like to marry her. That is why I wanted Mrs. Stoner out of the house. The two do not get along, and Miss Wright would feel uncomfortable in her presence. We want to make her feel secure here. Since her home was burned down, she has nowhere to go. I want you to make sure that all of the servants give her every consideration and courtesy. Is that clear?”

“Oh, yes sir, yes sir,” he said quickly, bowing in his anxiousness to please. “We’ll all take very good care of her. You can be sure of that. As for Mrs. Stoner, if you will forgive me for saying so, sir, I’m happy she’s gone. That was one woman that just couldn’t be satisfied. She was always complaining about something or yelling at somebody. We are all glad to see her leave. But I think I should tell you, when the carriage was driving off, she turned around and screamed out to tell you that she would get even with you if it was the last thing she ever did. She said you’d pay for hu…hu…” He shook his head, embarrassed. He had studied so hard, wanting to please his master, but there were still words he couldn’t always remember.

“Humiliate,” Corey laughed scornfully. “That’s the word, Hugo. Mrs. Stoner thinks I have humiliated her by forcing her to leave my home. I’m not worried about her threats. She should be thankful I allowed her to stay here and enjoy my hospitality as long as I did. She served her purpose well while she was about, but I was tiring of her. It’s just as well that circumstances changed. Now I have the woman I really want.”

“You really think she’ll stay?”

Corey pursed his lips as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was attractive, rich and powerful. Kitty Wright was beautiful, poor and helpless. The only thing he had to overcome was that infernal stubbornness of hers. Perhaps the baby was the answer. She would have to realize that Travis Coltrane was not coming back, and she was left with a child to raise alone. She was extremely vulnerable. That was very much in his favor. “Yes, Hugo,” he said with a little smile. “I think she will stay.”

They left the bedroom together, stepping out into the wide hallway that ran down the center of the second floor. Corey slept on the third floor in a special room when he was with a woman, and it remained locked when not in use. The servants had explicit orders that they were not to go into that room, ever, for any reason. He would keep it up himself, he had told them. And, of course, there were whispers and speculation about the “secret” room.

The polished mahogany floor smelled of lemon oil, and the crystal chandeliers along the way displayed the lavender-and-pink floral wallpaper attractively. There were marble statues along the sides, imported from Italy. Corey found that they impressed guests. He was relieved that no one asked him who the statue was supposed to be or who the sculptor was. Either they already knew or did not want to expose their ignorance by asking. He had no idea, himself.

“Which room is the baby in?’ Corey whispered as they moved toward the end of the hall and the room where Kitty had been placed.

Hugo stopped before the door just opposite their guest’s. “In here.” He turned the knob, and walked in to find a Negro woman sitting in a maple rocker by the window. Her dress was open to the waist, and one large breast hung out, her fingertips holding the nipple to the sucking lips of the infant she held in her arms.

“I’ll take the baby now,” Corey said, turning his eyes away from the scene he found so disgusting.

Women’s breasts were so lovely, some of them, and he could find a much better use for them than feeding babies. He never liked such a spectacle and knew he could never have endured seeing Kitty’s breasts bared for any lips other than his own.

“He ain’t through suckin’,” the wet nurse protested.

“You heard Mr. McRae,” Hugo snapped, and she immediately pulled her nipple back and handed the infant to Hugo. All the servants on the estate knew that, next to Mr. McRae himself, Hugo was the highest authority. He had the power to fire a servant at will or order one punished should he or she choose the lash rather than be discharged.