Dulcie's Gift

“I’ve never seen it so clean,” Barc said.

“I did the tabletops and little glass animals,” Emily said excitedly, her blond curls bobbing up and down.

“And a fine job you did,” Barc assured her.

“I counted them,” the little girl went on. “Starlight is teaching me to count. There were twenty-eleven of them,” she declared.

Dar winced, but Barc smiled and prodded gently, “And can you name all of them?”

“There’s a bunny and a turtle and a deer and…” Her voice faded for a moment, then she announced, “But the bunny is my favorite, even though I can’t ever touch it.”

“And why is that?” Barc asked.

“Mr. Robert said they belong to Aunt Bessie, and I must never, ever touch them.”

“Quite right,” Aunt Bessie said in her regal tones. She crossed the room and took a seat beside the table.

After everyone else was seated, Robert moved among them, offering coffee for the adults, glasses of milk for the children and cookies for everyone.

When Aunt Bessie saw Nathaniel reaching for a second cookie before he’d eaten his first, she admonished, “Nathaniel, it is polite to take only what you can eat.”

“Yes’m. But I know I can eat two.”

He glanced at Dulcie for permission. She gently shook her head. With reluctance he replaced the second cookie.

Beside him, Barc helped himself to two cookies and slipped one into the boy’s hand. The look on Nathaniel’s face spoke volumes.

Across the room, Cal stood alone, a cup in his hand, his left arm hanging stiffly at his side. When Dulcie glanced at him, she found him staring at her. A shiver passed through her and she looked away. But against her will she shot another glance in his direction. Cal bowed his head ever so slightly and lifted his cup in a salute. Her cheeks reddened, and she stiffened her back defiantly before turning away from him.

Across the room, Aunt Bessie watched, intrigued by what she saw. Her flinty nephew and that mysterious young woman struck sparks off each other every time they came close. They had best beware, she thought with a tightly clenched jaw. Sometimes, a single spark was all it took to ignite a forest fire.

Chapter Four

“I will say good-night now.” Aunt Bessie handed her cup to Robert and made her way to the door. “Calhoun, will you see me to my room?”

“Of course.” Her nephew put down his coffee and offered his arm.

As the two swept from the room and up the wide, curved staircase, Dulcie stifled a yawn. “Come, children,” she said. “It’s time for bed.”

Lulled by the food, exhausted by their day’s work, Starlight and the children offered no protest as they followed Dulcie out of the room and up the stairs. Dulcie tucked the two little girls in bed, kissed them, then proceeded to Nathaniel’s room.

“Barc is nice, isn’t he?” the child murmured as Dulcie smoothed the covers over him.

“Yes.”

“He gave me one of his cookies.”

“That was kind of him.”

“You don’t mind?”

Dulcie laughed. “No, Nathaniel, I don’t mind. I just want you to remember your manners. These people are kind enough to offer us shelter, and in return we owe them some courtesy.”

“I’ll work hard, Dulcie.”

She tousled his hair and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I know you will. I’m very proud of you, Nathaniel. Good night.”

“Good night, Dulcie.”

She closed his door and made her way to the room where Clara lay sleeping. A touch to the child’s forehead assured her that there was no fever. For long moments she stood beside the bed, listening to the slow, easy breathing, relieved that her young charge seemed to be mending.

Next she checked on Fiona. The room was in darkness except for a pale sliver of light, and she clasped her friend’s hand as she stood by the bed. “Oh, Fiona, I’m frightened for you.”

“Don’t be.” Cal’s deep voice, directly behind her, made her gasp and spin around.

At her reaction he said, “Forgive me, Miss Trenton. I thought you’d seen me when you came in. I just thought I’d look in on your friend.”

Cal studied Dulcie in the spill of moonlight. Though she resembled so many of the other refugees he’d seen clogging the roads in the South, there was a stubborn strength in her, a fierceness that said she would survive at any cost.

He had a wild impulse to plunge his hand into the silken waves of her dark hair, to feel its smooth texture against his skin. His gaze skimmed her mouth, and he felt his throat go dry at the thought of the kiss he had stolen earlier.

An awkward silence settled between them.

Dulcie studied the man who stood scant inches from her, half his face moonlit, half in shadow. That was how she saw him. A part of him solid and steady, another part dark and dangerous. What was most alarming was that she couldn’t decide which side was most attractive to her.

“I’ll say good-night now, Miss Trenton.” He made no move to leave.

“Good night, Mr. Jermain.” She stood very still, watching him.

The figure in the bed moaned, and they both turned, their shoulders brushing as they leaned close.

“Fiona,” Dulcie whispered, “can you hear me?”

The young woman moaned again, then drifted back to sleep.

Dulcie gave a shaky sigh. “I suppose I must stop hoping for miracles.”

Cal gave a harsh sound that might have been a laugh had it not been so filled with pain. “I gave up on miracles a long time ago.”

Without thinking she glanced down at his sleeve. Seeing the direction of her gaze, he stiffened, then turned away.

She thought briefly about holding him back with a touch, a word. But what could she possibly do or say that would ease the awkwardness between them? She allowed the moment to pass.

Without a word he left.

For long minutes she remained, listening to her friend’s breathing. The only other sound in the room was the pounding of her own heart.

Cal awoke from a deep sleep to the sound of feminine voices down the hall. Opening one eye, he peered through the gloom, then rolled over, determined to steal a little more rest.

There was a trill of laughter, then more talking.

So much for sleep, he thought as he crawled out of bed and snatched up a pair of trousers. He pulled on his boots, then made his way down the hall, pulling on a shirt as he did. Without bothering to button it, he paused outside a closed door, listening to the high-pitched voices. Though it was not yet dawn, they were chattering like magpies.

He twisted open the door and thundered, “Doesn’t anyone care that there are people asleep in this house?”

The sight that greeted him was like a bucket of cold water to his heated temper. The young Irishwoman was propped up in her bed, with mounds of pillows supporting her. Beside her sat the little girl with the injured arm, Clara. Though both of them still looked pale, their eyes were crinkled with laughter. But it was the figure in the middle of the bed that caught and held his attention.

Dulcie sat, surrounded by all her charges, dressed in her chemise and petticoat and draped in a ragged shawl. Her waist-length hair spilled about her shoulders in a riot of curls.

They all looked up with alarm, their laughter quickly extinguished.

“Forgive me, Mr. Jermain,” Dulcie said. “We were so happy to see Clara and Fiona recovered from their wounds that we forgot about you and your family.”

“I see.” He took a step closer to the bed and said to Fiona, “So, you are awake at last.”

“Aye.” Fiona studied him suspiciously. “And who might you be?”

“Fiona,” Dulcie put in quickly, “this is Mr. Cal Jermain. He found our boat and brought us here to his plantation.”

“Then I am in your debt, Mr. Jermain.” Fiona extended her hand. She continued to watch him warily.

He accepted her handshake. But when he tried to touch a hand to Clara’s forehead, the little girl shrank from him.

“It’s all right,” Dulcie said softly. “Mr. Jermain just wants to see if your fever has subsided.”

Cal deliberately kept his touch gentle as he pressed his fingers to the young girl’s skin. After the briefest of contacts, he lowered his hand. He saw her gaze follow his movement, then shift to his other arm, where the cuff of his shirt ended abruptly.

“You will require some nourishment,” he said, turning away. “I’ll wake Robert.”

“No.” Dulcie wriggled off the bed. “It’s enough that we cost you your sleep. Please don’t wake Robert. I can see to their needs.”

He tried not to stare at the bare feet, the shapely ankles, peeking out from beneath her petticoat. “As you wish, Miss Trenton. Come along.” He lifted a candle from the table beside Fiona’s bed. “I’ll give you some assistance.”

Cal led the way to the kitchen and lit a lantern to dispel the gloom. Soon, with a fire on the hearth, the empty room took on a warm glow.

Without a word, Cal disappeared.

Dulcie filled a kettle from a bucket of water and placed it over the fire to boil. Then she split half a dozen biscuits and drizzled them with honey before placing them on a warming shelf above the fireplace.

When the water boiled, she wrapped a linen square around her hand and lifted the blackened kettle from the fire. Turning, she was surprised to see Cal standing at the table with a bucket of milk, which he poured into several glasses.

“I thought you’d gone to bed.” She felt a flush creep into her cheeks.

“No point in trying to sleep now. Besides, the cow would need milking in a few hours. I thought I’d save Dar the trouble. And I figured the children might be feeling hungry.”

He reached over her to a high shelf. As he did, his hand brushed the top of her head. The softness of her hair against his skin caused a pleasant sensation. Though he hadn’t intended it, he slowed his movements in order to better enjoy the moment.

What was it about this woman that heightened all his senses? Standing here, barely touching, he became aware of the soft scent of her, like a meadow after a spring rain. Though the shawl preserved her modesty, he could tell that the body beneath the opaque chemise and petticoat was perfectly formed. Long legs. Rounded hips. A slender waist. A shadowy cleft between high, firm breasts. The pale column of throat. And a face so fair, so lovely, it made his heart skip a beat.

He removed a small pouch containing tea and spices. “Aunt Bessie swears by their healing properties,” he said as he measured some into a cup.

Dulcie poured the water, inhaling their fragrance. “I don’t know if this can truly heal, but it smells wonderful.”

“Then fix yourself a cup. And one for me,” he added impulsively, sprinkling the precious spiced tea into two more cups.

He couldn’t imagine why he’d said that. It had been years since he’d tasted Aunt Bessie’s tea. And even more years since he’d done something so spontaneous. But the tea and spices did smell wonderful. And it was a small compensation for having missed his sleep.

When everything was arranged on a heavy silver tray, Cal picked it up, deftly balancing one side on his maimed arm. He indicated the lantern. “Lead the way, Miss Trenton.”

He followed her along the hallway and up the stairs, achingly aware of the sway of her hips beneath the petticoat. If the very proper Miss Dulcie Trenton knew what he was thinking, he would certainly taste her temper again. Only this time, instead of a basket of sheets, he might find himself wearing a tray of biscuits, milk and hot tea.

He could still taste that first shocking kiss. A second one would be worth whatever punishment she meted out. The thought brought a smile to his lips, which he quickly erased as she shoved open the door to Fiona’s room.

At the sight of milk and biscuits, little Emily clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, Dulcie! Is this a party?”

“Indeed it is. We are celebrating Clara and Fiona’s return to the land of the living.” Dulcie made room on the nightstand, and Cal set down the tray.

“Aunt Bessie’s spiced tea for you, Fiona,” Dulcie announced as she handed her friend a cup.

“Aunt Bessie?”

“She is Mr. Jermain’s aunt. She asked us to call her Aunt Bessie while we are here.”

Clara accepted a glass of milk and asked solemnly, “How long will that be?”

Everyone glanced at Cal. Aware of the tense silence that had descended upon them, he weighed his words carefully. They were, after all, an inconvenience to him and his family. But it seemed unnecessary to spoil the moment.

“I’m sure you will be eager to leave as soon as both Fiona and Clara are strong enough to travel by boat to the mainland.”

“Do you mean Charleston?” Clara asked.

“Yes. That would be the nearest town.”

“But we can’t—”

In a panic, Dulcie passed the plate under the child’s nose and said firmly, “Have a biscuit, Clara.”

Cal saw the worried glances the others exchanged.

The moment passed. Clara nibbled a biscuit and retreated into stony silence. The other children sat, heads bowed, avoiding his eyes. Even Starlight, nervously tracing a finger along the pattern on the quilt, refused to lift her head.

The little scene confirmed Cal’s worst suspicions. This bunch was hiding something. Even innocent children had been coerced into keeping the secret.

He drained his cup without taking the time to taste the delicate spices. Then he placed it on the tray and said abruptly, “I’ll bid you all good morning.”

No one spoke as Cal’s footsteps receded down the hallway.

Minutes later Dulcie gathered the empty glasses and cups and placed them on the silver tray. Turning, she kissed Clara and Fiona, then said to the others, “There’s still time for an hour or more of sleep before the day begins. I suggest we put it to good use”

She lifted the candle and led her little party to their rooms. Then she headed downstairs with the tray. But as she stepped into the kitchen, she realized her mistake.

Cal had not gone back to bed. He was standing by the window, staring out over the moonlit fields. When he turned to her, there was an ominous look in his eyes.

“What is it you and the others are hiding, Miss Trenton?”

Dulcie’s breath backed up in her throat. Setting down the tray, she turned away, intent on leaving without a response. But his hand on her sleeve stopped her.

“I demand an answer, Miss Trenton.”

She lifted her chin in that infuriating way and turned to face him. “What you ask is none of your concern, Mr. Jermain.”

“The fact that you have taken refuge in my home makes it my concern, Miss Trenton. I want no trouble brought to my doorstep. The war has left my family weary beyond belief.”

Her own tone deepened with passion. “I will remind you that yours was not the only family touched by the war. We are all weary. But we must go on if we are to survive.”

Anger made him careless. Without taking time to consider his actions, he dragged her close, until her face was mere inches from his. Hot breath fanned her cheek as he growled, “Woman, you try my patience to the limit. Now tell me what it is that sent you fleeing into the eye of a storm.”

She tried to pull away, but his strength was too great. The fire in his eyes frightened her, but she would never let him know that. Instead, she fought back with haughty indignation. “You go too far, sir. Release me at once.”

“Tell me why you are running.”

Dulcie froze.

Seeing her reaction he said, “If it is in my power, I will help you. But you must be honest with me.”

She struggled to push free of his arms, but he held her fast. “Damn you, woman. Trust me.”

She gave a sound that might have been a harsh laugh. Her throat was so constricted she could barely get the words out. “If the war has taught me one thing, it is not to trust anyone.” Anger darkened her eyes. “Certainly not a man who tries to force his will on me.”

Cal’s eyes narrowed as though he’d been struck. Without a word he turned away and strode from the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

For long minutes Dulcie stood, listening to the sound of his footfall as he stalked to the barn. If only she was free to confide in him. But she dared not. She had sworn the others to secrecy. She would not be the one to break the vow.

For now, she must live in a prison of her own making. And there was no room in that prison for the embittered Cal Jermain.

Chapter Five

As Dulcie and Starlight entered the dining room for the morning meal, they were met by Aunt Bessie.

“Good morning.” The older woman studied them both with a cool, calculating look that had Dulcie’s cheeks blooming. “Are the children still abed?”

“Yes. I thought I would let them sleep awhile.” Dulcie glanced around the table, noting with relief that Cal was missing. “I see they are not the only ones still sleeping.”

Barc gave a short laugh. “If you mean my brother, Miss Trenton, you are mistaken. Cal has been out in the fields since sunup.”

“Oh, dear. We disturbed his sleep, I fear,” Starlight said in dismay.

“Cal?” Barclay shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about him. Since his return from the war, he rarely sleeps more than a few hours a night.”

“Does his wound still pain him?” Starlight asked.

“To which wound do you refer?” Barc sipped hot, strong coffee and watched as the two young women helped themselves to food from the sideboard.

At Dulcie’s urging, Starlight filled her plate. Satisfied that the girl was eating enough to regain her strength, Dulcie helped herself to eggs and a biscuit and took her seat at the table.

Starlight arched a brow. “I don’t understand. How many wounds has your brother suffered?”

“There is the obvious one,” Barc said, “and I suppose the loss of a hand would be enough to do in most men. But Cal carries other, hidden wounds, as well.”

“Hidden?” Starlight said softly.

Beside her, Dulcie went very still.

Barc glanced at his aunt, who was frowning in disapproval.

“It is not proper to discuss such personal matters with strangers,” she protested.

He shrugged. “Aunt Bessie, Cal is not the first man whose beloved refused to wait for him while he was off fighting the war.”

His revelation had Dulcie reeling. She could imagine Cal’s pain at returning, broken in body and spirit, only to find that the woman he loved had deserted him. That would explain at least some of his bitterness.

And then another thought intruded. Sarah. The woman’s name was Sarah. That was what Cal had called her in the boat. She shivered, recalling dark, angry eyes, the threatening, ominous stance. Did she look like Sarah? she wondered. Was that why he was forever scowling at her?

“Fortunately,” Barc added with a chuckle, “I do not share my brother’s problems. In fact, quite the contrary. There were so many ladies waiting for my return I was forced to lavish attention on dozens of them. It’s quite exhausting work, which continues to drain me more with each passing evening.”

Dulcie managed to smile at his joke, grateful that he always seemed able to relieve the tension. But his aunt was still frowning.

When Robert appeared at Dulcie’s side with a cup of tea, she accepted gratefully. “Thank you, Robert,” she murmured. “Where would you like us to begin work today?”

He looked beyond her to Aunt Bessie, who said, “You can begin on the upper floor today. I would like the bedrooms thoroughly cleaned and aired.” She wrinkled her nose and added, “Barclay’s room positively reeks of cigar smoke whenever I pass by. And Darwin has accumulated so many books it’s a wonder he is able to find his bed.”

Across the table, Dar blushed clear to his toes, but as was his custom, he said nothing in his own defense.

Starlight’s eyes danced with unconcealed joy. “You have books to read, Dar?”

When he merely nodded, Barc answered for him. “It’s my younger brother’s passion. I believe he would rather read than eat or sleep.”

“I envy you,” the young woman said shyly.

“Would…would you care to borrow one or two of my books?” Dar asked.

Starlight was suddenly as shy as he. “Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly. But thank you.”

Both of them seemed to become deeply engrossed in the food on their plates.

Barc pushed away from the table. “It’s time we got to work. By now, Cal has probably plowed another acre. Or five. He seems in an especially dark mood today. That always means more work than usual.”

Dar stood and followed him from the room without a word. For a moment Aunt Bessie watched them go with a look of sadness in her eyes. Then, as if pulling herself back from her thoughts, she faced the two young women.

“You may begin with Barclay’s room. I’ll send the children along to help after they’ve eaten their breakfast.” As Dulcie and Starlight got up from the table, she added, “But don’t bother with Calhoun’s room. He left word that he did not want anything disturbed.”

Barc’s room did indeed reek of cigar smoke. And whiskey. A crystal decanter of aged bourbon stood on the nightstand, along with an impressive array of legal tomes, which showed evidence of having been much read.

Dulcie and Starlight threw open the windows and stripped the bedding. At Dulcie’s insistence, Starlight was allowed to help only with lighter tasks, which would not tax her fragile strength.

With Robert’s help Dulcie hauled the feather mattress outside, where she beat it and left it in the sun to air. When the children had finished breakfast, they helped scrub the floors until they gleamed, under the stern, watchful eye of Aunt Bessie. Nathaniel again worked on the stones of the fireplace until all the soot had been removed.

In Dar’s room Dulcie and Starlight found a lantern still burning beside a pile of books on his night table.

“Absentminded,” Starlight muttered as she began to clean the blackened chimney of the lantern.

“Look at all the books!” Dulcie exclaimed.

There were history books stacked on the hearth. Books on astronomy, science, biology on a table near the window. Mathematics books, English textbooks, poetry peeking out from beneath his bed.

“Do you think anyone could read all these?” Starlight asked.

“Of course,” Dulcie replied. “Why else would they be here?”

Starlight seemed awestruck as she flipped through the pages. “So many things to read. To understand. To know. He must be…brilliant.”

Dulcie found herself agreeing, though she said nothing. The shy man who inhabited this room showed a curious, questing mind. It would seem, she thought as she and Starlight filled a pitcher with fresh water and returned clean rugs to the floor, that Dar Jermain was more complex than he appeared. Though the man said very little, he was obviously well versed on a variety of subjects.

Aunt Bessie’s room was a curious mix of neatness and clutter. Her huge four-poster was mounded with pillows.

“Seven,” Starlight exclaimed in surprise as she began removing them. “Imagine that. How can anyone use seven pillows?”

“Perhaps she’s a restless sleeper,” Dulcie said as she stripped the rest of the bedding.

Aunt Bessie’s armoire was a model of efficiency, her gowns hung in orderly rows, shoes set in pairs beneath, hats and gloves laid out on a shelf above. Her jewelry, on the other hand, carelessly spilled from a satin case and covered almost every inch of her dressing table. The mantel above the fireplace was crammed with more crystal figurines, heavy silver candlesticks, various bric-a-brac and souvenirs from Bessie’s world travels.

A chaise was pulled up in front of the fireplace. Tossed negligently over it was an ornate Oriental dressing gown.

“Dulcie,” Starlight called, tracing a finger over the patterns on the silk, “whatever are these?”

“They would appear to be Chinese characters,” Dulcie said.