A Matter of Passion

A Champagne Books Short Story

A Matter Of Passion By

Allison Knight

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Champagne Books www.champagnebooks.com Copyright 2011 by Martha Krieger December 2011 Cover Art by Petra K. Produced in Canada

Champagne Books #35069-4604 37 ST SW Calgary, AB T3E 7C7 Canada

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Champagnebooks.com (or a retailer of your choice) and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Other Books By Allison Knight A Treasure For Sara Battlesong Heal My Hurting Heart Heartsong Roses For My Lady Windsong

Dedication Always—To Hank

ONE New Orleans, 1849 “The arrogant snob! He can’t do this.” Eleanor Monahan, known to her friends as Ellie, glared at the elegant paper with its bold penmanship. Her heart hurt as she stood in the small parlor and tossed her head against the pain, loosening more of her hair from the careless knot she’d fashioned early on. “This is not going to happen.” Since her sister was dead, she’d read the note addressed to Elaine and delivered a short time ago. The author evidently had no idea his young mistress had died giving birth to his child. But that wasn’t the worst of it. He didn’t seem to care whether it was a boy or girl. Anguish ripped through her as she reread the words for the fourth time. My Dear Elaine, After considerable thought I’ve decided it would be best for the child if our relationship is now quit. I will raise the child since it would only be an encumbrance to your life style and prevent you from finding another protector. Yours, Matthew Joseph Alden, esq. Rage, intense and mind numbing, shot through her. How dare the man! She scrunched the paper until it was a small unrecognizable ball. He was not going to raise her niece! “Bad news, love?” Molly Porter, maid to Elaine, asked from the doorway. “Terrible news. This protector of Elaine’s thinks I’m going to give Hope to him to raise. He isn’t even interested in finding out if she birthed a boy or girl.” “Probably only interested in that wife of his—and traveling like toffs around Europe,” Molly said and brushed her hands against the skirt she wore. “Never did like that man. He’s a coward, that’s what he is.” “It’s a shame I never met him.” Ellie threw the ball she held unto a

table beside the door. “I would have had my say a long time ago.” She rescued a whimpering Hope from her basket by the fire. Any minute now Hope’s wet nurse, Nan, would have to feed the child. “It was the last thing Elaine asked of me. ‘Don’t let him have Hope.’” Hope began to cry, her sobs escalating as Ellie paced the floor trying to quiet the fretful child. “Is Nan ready to feed her?” Molly nodded. Ellie started from the parlor but a sharp knock on the door made her pause. “Would you take her?” Ellie asked. ~*~ “Damn you, Matthew,” Clay Alden muttered as he stomped down the cobbled walk in front the rundown structures on Dauphine Street. His brother should have provided better accommodations for his mistress. He checked the address of each house against the note in his hand, ignoring his carriage as it traveled the street beside him. “He ought to be here himself, to do his own dirty work,” Clay muttered. “Damn.” And he ought to be up north on his own plantation, preparing for spring planting. Wrapping his great coat against the chill of late February, he stopped before a small house and signaled the coachman. As he climbed into the carriage he muttered to Matthew’s driver, “This is the house. You know what to do.” While he watched from inside the carriage he caught a quick glimpse of the woman who answered the door. Matthew had told him the husband and wife he hired to care for the house and Elaine were older, of Irish decent, the man a short wiry individual and his wife a stout woman with a winning smile. But the woman at the door was tall and there was no smile on her face, a gray day dress brushing the floor. She was probably in her middle twenties, past the first bloom of youth and she wasn’t the beauty Matthew described as his mistress. This woman’s hair was not the golden crown his brother praised. What wasn’t hanging in strings about her face appeared to be tied in a knot at the top of her head. She certainly wasn’t what he would call beautiful. Could he have the wrong house? He checked again. Perhaps this was the wet nurse, for no mistress would want to feed the child herself. “Yes? May I help you?” he heard her ask the driver. He caught the tone of her voice from his carriage. It rolled through him, husky, confident, a lyric voice which instantly caused desire. ”The master sent for the babe,” the coachman said and pointed toward the carriage. “Who wants the child?” That lilting voice was shaking as she glanced in the direction of the carriage. “His name is Alden. He be Matth—”

His declaration was halted. She slammed the door in his face. The coachman turned toward him. Clay hesitated for a second, leaned out of the window and ordered, “Try again.” He sat back in the carriage and waited for a response. From the other side came the shout, “The child is sick. Go away.” He heard the crying of an infant and cursed. Now what was he supposed to do? He had no knowledge of sick children. He’d have to try again on another day. At least he had business in New Orleans, so this trip wouldn’t be a complete waste of his time. ~*~ Ellie sagged against the door and wanted to scream. Matthew had come for his child. Well, too bad. She’d promised Elaine she would raise Hope. Matthew Alden would never get his hands on his daughter. No one broke a deathbed promise. All she could see of him as he sat in his fancy carriage was his profile and it was in shadow. But it didn’t matter what he looked like. He was not getting Hope. Hope’s cries had stopped and she hurried to the kitchen. “Who was at the door?” Molly asked. “Matthew. He’s come.” Nan stopped feeding Hope. “I told him she was sick, to go away. I have no intention of giving Hope to him. But he’ll return, I just know it.” Molly gave a loud hmph and turned back to the stove and the stew she was preparing. Ellie murmured, “You both know I have no intention of raising Hope here in the French Quarter, but I hadn’t thought to leave so soon. Now, we’ll have to go much sooner than I planned. We can’t stay here.” Just saying the words made her insides churn with fear. “He doesn’t seem to know Elaine is dead. Perhaps that’s a good thing.” “Then that’s what we do. We leave here.” Molly stopped her stirring. “And that man of mine shoulda been here, but he can see to passage. He’ll check to see if there be a boat goin’ to St. Louis. We can all go to that place you talked about, that Kansas territory.” Nan lifted Hope to her shoulder to pat her back. “I’m a goin’ with you. Nothing here for me.” Ellie frowned. “Are you sure Nan? I do need you, but...” “I tole you, when my own babe passed on an’ Bill walked out. I ain’t got a thing left here.” “Elaine gave ya all her jewels didn’t she?” Molly said as Nan placed Hope in her basket. “But I have no idea how to sell any of them.” “Heck’ll know.” Molly said. “Besides, I heard ya telling him, since ya been saving up ya figured to have more ‘an enough by summer. That’s

only a couple of months away.” She grinned. Ellie returned her smile. Molly’s husband could sell the jewels because he knew just about everyone in the French Quarter and with his ready smile and jovial nature, he made friends with almost everyone he met. Both Molly and Heck were honest and loyal. It was easy to see why Matthew Alden had hired the couple to care for this house, and protect Elaine. They were special people. Ellie giggled. “I wonder what Matthew Alden, Esq. would say if he knew he’d be financing our escape.” “Well, he did give yer sister a goodly sum afore he left for Europe.” Molly turned back to her stirring. When Heck returned to the house and was told what had happened in his absence, he said, “I’ll take them jewels to that fella over on Royal Street. We got all that supply money ya been saving.” He rubbed his hands together as if all her problems were solved. “Just a few of them jewels will give us enough fer passage money if we don’t take one of them fancy boats. An’ there should be more than enough left over for what we need to travel west.” Ellie sighed with relief and brushed the loose hair from her face. They would leave. She tensed again. But would Matthew return before they were gone? Heck returned from the dock the next afternoon. “Only one steamboat going north that I think we can afford. Not another fer several weeks at least.” He grimaced. “Them boats is expensive. I got us a cabin, but the buggers would only let me have the one. It’ll be a tight fit fer three women and the babe, but it were reasonable. Can we be ready by Friday next?” “That will be more than enough time.” Heck rubbed his forehead and frowned. “It ain’t the best lookin’ boat but like I said, there ain’t nothin’ else for more weeks than you want to wait, least ways nothin’ we can afford.” “We’ll have to take this one. Can the people with whom you’ve dealt be trusted? If Matthew starts asking questions...” Her voice trailed off as she twisted her hands together. “The people around here don’t cotton to strangers. No one will talk to ‘em.” Heck grinned. “Ya don’t have to worry none.” By Thursday, everything was set. They would leave New Orleans early Friday morning and Ellie could only thank heavens Matthew Alden had not returned. When Ellie arrived at the dock with her little family that afternoon, she started to relax. Matthew had not returned and they were on their way. If they could get to St. Louis before he had a chance to follow them, Hope would be safe. ~*~ Clay stood at the railing and glared at the interior of this sorry vessel

while he waited for the late arrivals. Earlier, when he booked passage, it hadn’t looked quite this bad. Now, he decided it was a lot worse than he thought. He remembered his surprise when he’d returned to the house on Duphane. Two women, obviously neighbors, stood on the cobbled street talking. One kept pointing to the house where Matt’s mistress and child lived. “Ya misunderstood,” the oldest said. “Heck said the house wouldn’t be available to let ‘til next week. They are all leaving then.” Clay didn’t wait to hear more. Within an hour he’d arranged to have someone watch the house. If she planned to run away, he needed to know when and how. When he’d discovered her plans, he made arrangements to sail on the same boat. But, now he wasn’t too confident it was a worthy vessel. When he booked passage, he gave his name as Clay Sherborn. He used his middle name, from his mother’s family, hoping Matt had never mentioned the Sherborn plantation to Elaine. Still, even if he had, Clay hoped she wouldn’t make the connection. He only knew he couldn’t use the name of Alden. He’d also left a message for Matt explaining his actions. His brother and his wife, Prudence, were expected back from their European trip sometime next week, and Matt had thought to have his child in residence when he returned. Clay smirked, that was if Pru had agreed to raise it. His only task was to convince the mistress to give the babe to Matt. At first he’d refused to have anything to do with Matt’s plan. But Matt had reminded him of all the times he’d come to Clay’s aid. He owed Matt, for more than once the older brother had rescued the younger brother from serious harm. Clay sighed. Family debts had to be repaid. He jerked to attention as the mistress came forward leading a small parade, a bundle in her arms, her servants trailing behind. He stood at the railing stunned. Her appearance was a shock. Properly clothed, she was beautiful. Her face was oval, her complexion cream, her brown hair, glistening with its streaks of gold, was braided and worn like a crown on top of her head. As the group came closer he decided her eyes were her best feature. They were large, widely spaced and a warm brown—inviting eyes, a courtesan eyes, with dark brows arching above them. She carried herself with regal grace, her curves telling him she was all woman. Her lips were full and a sober expression marked her countenance. She strode forward with confidence and he smiled, guessing that attitude was a result of thinking she had escaped. For an instant, he couldn’t help the admiration he felt. Desire swept through him taking him completely by surprise. Good lord, she was his brother’s mistress. He couldn’t feel anything for her. Still, he couldn’t deny the effect she had on him. Nor was she the

kind of woman he thought Matthew would have. He dragged his gaze away and noticed he wasn’t the only man on deck watching her. She looked nothing like the harassed woman he’d seen peeking around the door earlier in the week. As he watched, another thrill shook him. He told himself it was because she was a beautiful woman, and what red blooded man didn’t get a thrill looking at such a woman. He gazed at the bundle in her arms. Matthew’s child. The way she held it and glanced at the babe occasionally bothered him. It was clear she had a visible connection to the child. Damn! Despite Matthew’s directive there was no way he was going to just take the child away from her. What did it matter if his brother could provide everything for the infant she could not? What he ought to do was leave the boat, return to the plantation and let Matt do his own dirty work. Then he remembered the last scrap he’d been in and how Matt had come to his rescue without a word of censure. No! Matt had asked him to do this and despite personal feelings he owed his brother his aid. As he watched the group make their way up the gangplank another thought intruded. Perhaps there was more to this than there seemed. What if her purpose in running was a ploy to persuade Matthew to come after her, to claim her as well as his child? If that was her plan, it wouldn’t work. Matthew was married and Pru would make certain he stayed married. Clay shrugged a feeling of dissatisfaction away and walked toward the salon thinking about the woman. She had an intelligent look about her that he hadn’t expected. After she settled in her cabin he might seek her out, although he hadn’t decided how he wanted to approach her. He took his seat in the salon, not at all surprised at the lack of elegance. Other steamboats had chambers which claimed an opulence that often stunned him. But this part of the vessel was almost devoid of any decoration. From the windows he watched the captain attempt a sorry maneuver away from the dock. He wondered if sailing on this decrepit craft was safe. However, given the lack of entertainment, developing an acquaintance with Matthew’s mistress ought to be an easy task. Perhaps after they docked for the night, he’d introduce himself. When the boat docked late that afternoon, she didn’t appear and he paced the deck. If she never left her cabin, how on earth would he establish an acquaintance? Just before the sun set, he stood at the railing, enjoying a cigar when he heard a rustle of skirts. He glanced at two women walking toward the stern and sighed with relief. She had finally surfaced along with one of the other women, undoubtedly hoping it would look as if she was chaperoned. But the thrill of seeing her slammed through him. Damn! He would have to remember this was Matthew’s mistress. No, Matthew’s former

mistress. He started toward them. In the presence of another woman this would seem proper. “Good evening, ladies,” he said and paused. “Good evening,” the older woman responded. She did not reply. He tipped his hat and walked past. He stopped close by and was surprised to hear the servant call Matthew’s mistress Ellie. Strange! Her name was Elaine. But Elaine could also be called Ellie, couldn’t she? And she was beautiful. No question about that. It was no wonder Matt had been intrigued.

TWO Ellie gritted her teeth when Molly acknowledged the man’s greeting. When they’d boarded, she saw him watching them. She’d grabbed Heck’s sleeve and pointed to the man. “That tall man standing at the railing, the one who keeps watching us? Do you know him?” Heck looked in the direction she pointed and shook his head. “Nah. Never seen him afore.” “It’s not Matthew Alden?” “Nope,” Heck said and patted her arm. “Matthew’s a lot older. An’ more snobbish lookin’.” “Could he be someone Matthew hired to follow us?” Ellie couldn’t ignore the shiver of apprehension that traveled down her spine. “Nah. He don’t have the look.” “What kind of a look?” Sometimes Heck’s comments needed explaining. “He don’t look like a snoop. He’s probably watching 'cause you is such a pretty thing. Thinkin’ ‘bout the lucky lad who gave you the babe.” He nodded toward the child in her arms. She lowered her eyes and felt her cheeks warm. Heck seldom offered a compliment and he’d embarrassed her. Now, as the man passed them, tipping his hat, she noticed how handsome he was. His dark brown hair lay in deep waves and in the late afternoon light, it looked like fine silk. He was a big man, muscular, and tall. He also had remarkable eyes, round, an intense blue gray that seemed all too knowing to her. An unfamiliar shiver raced down her spine. His voice, when he offered his greeting, sent a thrill through her and she shook her head for none of her plans allowed for feelings for any man. “We must return to the cabin,” she whispered to Molly. “Heck has to find a place on the deck to bed down before all the space is gone.” Molly nodded. “And Heck doesn’t need to be saddled with Hope any longer. Why, he might decide to give her a sip of his liquor.”

“Molly!” She laughed. “Won’t happen. I was jest trying to make ya relax. Never seen ya so tense.” “That man.” Ellie nodded in the direction of the man who had spoken to them. “I don’t know. There is something about him.” “Oh, love, not every man is a threat. Come on. We’ll go back to the cabin now.” ~*~ Late that night Clay retired to his small stateroom. At least it was clean. Sleep came slowly because all he could think about was the difficulty Matt placed on his plate. Something jerked Clay awake. Dull light lit the tiny stateroom and he realized the boat had struck something. He listened for several seconds then jumped from the bed. The steamboat was not moving and there was a grinding sound, like wood against wood, coming through the cabin wall. “Oh, hell!” Clay snapped and grabbed his clothes. It sounded like they were rubbing against the dock. He hated being right about this captain being incompetent but if this was any indication... He swore again. “Well, there’s nothing for it.” Clay muttered stuffing his shirt into his pants. “We’ll have to push it away from the dock.” He hoped there were enough stevedores present to make this a simple task. He raced for the stairs, mentally cursing Matt as he went. Just what he needed at the end of a tiring winter season, helping to push a big side wheeler away from the dock. But it was even worse than he thought as he surveyed the situation once he got to the railing. Somehow they were wedged against the dock and another steamer. ~*~ A scrapping sound wrenched Ellie from her dreams. The picture of that handsome man who had greeted them at the railing yesterday afternoon faded from her mind and she blushed as she remembered her vivid scenes. Somehow, in her sleep, her mind had conjured the kind of visions that made her hot and damp. She groaned and scrubbed her warm face with her hands. How could she dream about such things? Aware now of the noise that woke her, she realized it was coming from outside their cabin. She glanced around the room. Nan sat in the corner nursing Hope but where was Molly? She wasn’t in the cabin. She must have already risen, probably to check on Heck who shared the deck with several other men who didn’t have enough coin to pay for a cabin. Trying to ignore the noise and the strange beat of her heart, she thrust her feet to the floor. She had to forget that man and those dreams. Even though she had been asleep, she was embarrassed by the preposterous images

playing through her mind. Why that man had been the central player in her fantasy she couldn’t begin to guess, but in her dreams, he had held her and kissed her. And to her shame, even in the haze of sleep, she’d loved every minute of it. Why had he approached them? Ellie didn’t consider herself a beauty and besides, she was too old, despite what Heck said. Still trying to dismiss the feelings left by her active imagination, she slid behind the small screen to dress as Molly burst through the door. “Fine mess he’s gotten us into,” she stomped into the cabin. “What’s wrong?” Ellie peered over the edge of the screen. “That captain ain’t got much smarts. He drove the boat right into the dock and we’re stuck.” Molly paced in what space wasn’t occupied by a bed, their trunk and valise. “What does Heck say and where is he?” Ellie drew on her gray gown, wondering if anyone would need her skills. “He’s on shore with half the other men. They’re thinkin’ to push this tub away from the dock. It ain’t gonna work and Heck is gonna get cold. He’ll probably catch his death.” Ellie couldn’t help smiling. Molly was about as protective of her husband as Ellie was of Hope. She grabbed a shawl to tie around her shoulders. “Nan, you finish with Hope and I’ll go outside and rescue Heck.” It was a beautiful day, but cold and the first thing Ellie saw when she reached the railing was a group of men working from the shore with boards and poles trying to ease the steamboat away from the dock. As she leaned over the railing searching for Heck, she spotted the man who had invaded her dreams. Her breath caught as she stared at him, now shirtless, his muscles straining in the sunlight. If a man could be called gorgeous, he was. His thick, dark brown hair, damp from perspiration, curled over his head. His naked torso glistened like bronze and she tried to swallow a huge lump which had suddenly appeared in her throat. He was a big man, younger than she’d originally thought and handsome beyond anyone she had ever seen. She was staring, but she couldn’t help herself. This image would forever be imprinted on her mind. And if his attempts to introduce himself last night had him invading her dreams, what would this picture do to her? He glanced up and looked at her. Ellie closed her eyes and spun toward the bow where Heck and several more men were also trying to aid in removing the boat from its prison. There was a sudden jerk and then a loud hooray from the men. They were free. Just then a blood curdling cry penetrated the air. Ellie whirled around, then saw the object of her earlier scrutiny dive under the boat. A second later he pulled a young sailor out of the water and

yelled for help. The sailor, little more than a boy, was injured. While she waited for them to place him on the deck, she noticed his arm was twisted at a strange angle. He must have slipped when the boat broke free and somehow broken his arm. She waited for someone with some medical knowledge to help him, but no one stepped forward. Well, she knew what to do and she had no intention of standing there while the poor boy whimpered in pain. She stepped forward. “I can tend to him,” she said in a clear voice, a bit husky with her concern. The men cleared a path for her. Heck had grabbed a shirt and now stood at her side. The handsome man gazed at her then at the boy. Several other men looked as if she had stated that the end of the world was upon them. She gritted her teeth. “I can,” she defended herself. “I’ve been schooled in treating injuries.” A couple of the men in the group made inappropriate noises and she glared. Men, it seemed, were all the same. As far as some of them were concerned, women had no skills or abilities, other than in the bedroom. “Help me,” the boy cried out. She knelt beside him and patted his shoulder. “It might hurt as I tend you, but I can help you.” “Anything. Just do it,” he whimpered. “Heck,” Ellie said, “Molly can help me. But we’ll need some spirits.” Heck always had a supply of drink, much to Molly’s disgust. He rushed away and Molly joined the crowd around the boy. Ellie turned to her. “I need a dry blanket and my herbs. You know the ones. Oh, and a cup so I can mix the herbs.” Molly scurried off and the man from her dreams, the one who approached them last evening, stepped forward. “What can I do?” She didn’t hesitate. “I’ll need a couple of boards, thin and not too long.” Molly arrived and handed her a cup. Heck arrived with the liquor and Ellie added the herbs and liquid together, then forced some of the herbal drink between the boy’s lips. Molly reached down and patted the boy’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry none. She knows what she’s adoin’” The boards arrived and she set the boy’s arm. When she finished, a couple of men carried the boy to his bunk. The man at her side smiled at her. “Ma’am,” he said, “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” He bowed his head. “My name is Clay Sherborn and I’m from north of Hammond.” “How do you do?” She turned to go.

“And your name?” “We call her Ellie, I’m Molly and this here is my husband, Heck.” Ellie froze. One smile from this man and she forgot Molly and Heck also stood beside her. ~*~ For the next three days they sailed without incident. Clay invented a dozen different excuses to spend time with her. In the morning and then again in the afternoon, he insisted on accompanying Heck as he walked with her to the young sailor’s bunk so she could see to his injury. He also spent time on the deck with her, at first talking about plantations in general. Somehow they touched on the expansion beginning in the west. That afternoon they argued about the state of the union. At one point in their discussions he realized she knew of what she spoke and he stared for longer than he should have. It dawned on him he should be shocked at her knowledge. He hadn’t expected to feel anything but revulsion for her. Yet, here he was, finding himself drawn to her, and picking out traits that meant she was nothing like a kept woman. Heck joined them and once again, her pleasant husky tone as she greeted the older man sent a shiver of desire down his spine. He tried to ignore it, but it was there, playing against his nerves. Fighting to retain his smile, he nodded and fought an arousal he had to hide. At the beginning of the fourth day the captain asked all the able bodied men to assemble on the wheel house deck. Clay groaned. It was too much to hope this trip would be without another incident. “Sorry to ask, but when we docked last night,” the captain said, “The hands couldn’t find any wood so now we’ll have to chop our own.” Clay gritted his teeth and wondered if wood had been denied because of lack of funds. It was known to happen on the river. However, the men didn’t seen too upset with this new problem. They probably wanted to go ashore, for one reason or another. Confinement didn’t suit an active man. After the sailors passed out axes the captain pointed out a forest close by and the men set off in groups of six or seven, ready for a little exercise. Clay agreed to go with the second group. Heck, he noted went with the first group. With a bit of happy jostling they waded ashore. For the better part of an hour, the thud of axes rang through the countryside. Then, a growing silence indicated another problem. Clay silently swore. Now what? The words injury and accident floated through Clay’s group of men and they shrugged into their shirts, hosted their tools to their shoulders and headed to the boat. Clay wondered how bad the injury might be. They were miles from a community of any size and skilled doctors were in short supply here in the wilderness. By the time they reached the boat, Clay knew from the silence that greeted them, this was more serious than the broken arm. Two men lay

stretched out on the deck, and both were bloody. “Axe handle split,” the man next to Clay explained. “The axe hit one guy in the head and the other took it in the shoulder.” Clay glanced at the two and swore. Heck was one of the men. He was the one who had received the shoulder injury. No one had done much except try to stop the bleeding. “Get Miss Ellie,” he shouted as he knelt beside Heck.

THREE To Clay’s relief, Ellie appeared before anyone could summon her. She must have noticed the sudden quiet then the shouts of the returning men. He heard her gasp and turned to offer what comfort he could, but she looked more composed than the men on the deck. With a swiftness that belied panic, she examined Heck then gave the second man consideration. “I can do nothing for him,” she shook her head and looked at one of the sailors. “He will need to see a skilled physician. But Heck,” she turned to him. “I’ll have to stitch this up and you will have to rest. You have lost some blood.” Clay stepped to her side, and she turned to him. “Can we find a bed for him and I would rather Molly didn’t know about this until I get him treated. Thank heavens she and Nan are doing Hope’s laundry.” He nodded and went to talk to the first mate. A cabin would have to be provided for both men for their injuries were directly related to cutting wood for the boat. Clay pointed that out to the man, adding if wood had been waiting for them this accident would not have occurred. Thankfully, in a few minutes, both men were settled in a small cabin and Ellie disappeared to get her supplies. Clay had no idea what she told Molly, but Heck’s wife did not appear. While she was gathering what she needed, Heck demanded a bottle of ‘good ole Irish’. Clay sent one of the sailors to retrieve a bottle from the first mate and by the time Ellie arrived, Heck had consumed several samples. With wood on board, the wheel began to turn and they were on their way. “We will have to put in at Natchez,” the first mate told him when Clay reported on the condition of the men. “The captain doesn’t cotton to ‘down under’ but we have no choice. He planned to make it to Vicksburg for supplies and where there’s cotton to load, passengers to board.” Clay asked, “How soon?” “Natchez in a couple of hours. Vicksburg—not until tomorrow.” Disgusted with the man’s attitude, Clay left the wheel house. Molly

had been told about the accident and Clay thought it best to check on Ellie. Ellie was not at all the woman he thought and he wondered how on earth Matthew could ever have pursued her. His brother’s description of Ellie did not fit the woman he now admired. Nor had the desire he felt for her diminished over the last several days. No, he wanted Ellie more than he had wanted another woman and he didn’t care if his brother had given her a child. Neither did the idea of Matthew taking the child from her rest well. He and Matthew would have to talk. ~*~ Despite the panic she felt, Ellie finished dressing Heck’s wound and listened to Molly whimpering. At least Heck was feeling little pain. With Heck’s injury, plans to travel west were in serious jeopardy. “Molly, he’s going to be all right. The wound wasn’t that bad despite all that blood and it was a clean wound.” She thanked the stars both men had been shirtless while they chopped wood, for she had no clothing fibers to pull from the cut. She remembered the instructions from the woman who had taught her the healing arts. “I’m certain he wants to sleep for a bit, and we need to see to Hope. And poor Nan has no idea how bad Heck is.” “Ya sure he’ll be all right?” Ellie nodded and gathered her supplies. “But this is gonna mess up yer plans somethin’ awful.” “It can’t be helped. With any luck Matthew won’t come looking for us for a time yet and by then, Heck will have healed and we can be on our way.” “I’ll stay with ‘im.” Ellie grimaced. “Molly, he needs to sleep. And I don’t think he wants you hovering over him. You’ll only worry him. Come on. We need to see to Hope and Nan.” If Molly realized how much whiskey Heck had consumed she was going to be fit to be tied. She was never happy with the pint or two of spirits Heck consumed on the weekend. Ellie chewed on her cheek, trying not to smile. In fact, Molly would not be the least bit consoling when she found out Heck was drunk. She had a temper and Ellie could imagine her pounding on Heck’s good shoulder when she discovered his condition. With a bit more persuading Ellie coaxed Molly from the room. She closed the door just as Heck began to sing. A swift glance assured that Molly hadn’t heard, for Heck only sang when he had too much to drink. After Nan finished feeding Hope, Ellie strolled the deck with Hope in her arms. Clay approached announcing he wanted to talk to her despite the fact that she carried the baby with her. Her heart pounded. Breathing in his presence was an effort and if he accidentally brushed against her hand or arm she felt a chill race through her. For some reason, she didn’t seem to be able to control her reaction to him.

She couldn’t figure out why he had this effect on her. No man had ever bothered her before. Why this man? And why now, when getting her little group, all the family she had left, away from any detection was so important? His deep, resonate voice interrupted her thoughts. “The first mate says we’ll be in Natchez in another hour and a half. They’ll summon a physician for the man with the head injury so we will be there for a while. I thought,” he paused and looked at her. “You need to relax a bit. If I took you ashore for a meal would Nan or Molly be offended?” Ellie stopped and gazed at him, which was a mistake for her heart started a rhythm that left her breathless once more. “Her name is Hope.” She indicated the babe. “And you don’t have to entertain me.” “No, but I would very much like your company. Would you ask the ladies?” Ellie knew what both women would say. They raved about how handsome and nice Clay was from the first night on board. After the first accident, Clay’s helping the young sailor had left Molly declaring him ready for sainthood. Nan was quick to agree. “All right. I can ask, but Molly’s upset with the injury Heck received and she might not want to leave him.” She watched the smile curve his lips, and knew as soon as the words left her mouth that he knew what the women thought of him. He knew they would agree with his suggestion. “In fact,” he added, “we should try and bring back some restoring soup for Heck. Oh, and food for the women. I have a feeling, once the ‘Irish’ he consumed wears off, Heck will be a trifle difficult.” Ellie couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out. “If Molly finds out how much he drank, she’ll be the difficult one.” “Then you will ask?” “Yes, and I’m certain they’ll agree. After we find out what the physician says about the men we should be able to leave for a bit.” “Ellie, it may take time to find a physician. There’s no need to wait. Why don’t we go ashore as soon as the boat docks?” Ellie nodded. Medical men were not always easily available. That had been one of the reasons she undertook her studies of medicine. Of course, she could never be a doctor, but she could help out in emergencies and as a midwife; she had already delivered several children, including the little girl in her arms. Leaving the vessel after the trauma of the last few days would be good. In fact, too good to dismiss. “All right. If Nan and Molly agree to watch over Hope, I’ll accompany you to Natchez for a meal.” Nan was quick to agree and although Molly would clearly have rather been at Heck’s side, she insisted Ellie needed to leave the vessel. As the steamer docked Ellie left with Clay.

Down under was a surprise and not at all what she expected. It was rowdy and dirty and most of the buildings appeared to contain the kind of businesses no one in her village would condone. But the place they ate served a decent meal and owner was quick to agree to prepare something they could take back to their group. After a pleasant dinner, Clay ushered her out of the tavern, and two men who looked like trappers approached. “Mister, ya consider sharin’ the lady?” the bigger of the two asked. “We pay good.” Clay pushed her in behind him and glared at the two. “No,” he muttered. He shifted the box of food he carried to his side and with a free hand flipped a coin in the direction of the smaller of the two. “Go buy your friend a drink. I don’t share my women—ever.” The two glared at him but stole toward one of the taverns. Ellie peered out from behind him. “What kind of a place is this?” “It seems to have gotten worse.” “You’ve been here before?” She nearly ran to keep up with him as they started back to the boat. “A few times,” he responded. “Clay, what do you do? You know, we talked about a lot of things but you never told me anything about you.” “I have a plantation north of New Orleans.” “And family?” She was suddenly very interested in the man she had shared so many pleasant hours with over the last few days. “Nor have you told me anything much about you,” he said. She blinked as they neared the gangplank, for he had bristled as if he didn’t want to even think about his family or anything having to do with them. “Come on. This food is probably getting cold.” He increased his speed as they neared the gangplank. Well, so much for learning something about this man. And to be honest, she was glad to be back aboard the boat. Those men who wanted to share her had frightened her. Back in her village, people knew her as the healer and the few men she met kept their distance. After all, she was too old to marry and have a family. At twenty four, she was, to use the English term, ‘on the shelf’. Heck was awake and complaining bitterly about the pain. Molly seemed relieved they had returned and thankful for the food. Ellie left Molly with Heck as the two of them ate. She took the remaining fare to Nan then went to check on the condition of the other injured man, only to find he had been moved to the home of the doctor, where he would stay until, or even if, he recovered. She dutifully thanked Clay for dinner before she went back to their cabin to sit with Nan.

~*~ After the sun dipped below the horizon, Ellie stood at the bow of the boat enjoying the evening breeze. Molly had returned to the cabin and insisted Ellie take the air for a time. The day had warmed considerably and the wind in her hair felt wonderful. A crescent of silver shimmered over the water as the wheel churned through the river. Footsteps against the wooden deck alerted her to another presence. She didn’t need to turn to see who had joined her, for her heart beat had increased and chills raced down her spine. “Good evening,” Clay murmured and Ellie gave a start for he was even closer than she realized. If she leaned back just a bit, she would be in his arms, which was such a temptation. As if he read her mind, he reached out and pulled her the final inch or two until he had his arms around her. It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck her at the place where his hands touched her. Tingling, she gave in to the sensations and weak with the need, she relaxed against him while he rested his chin against her head. She could feel his warmth and smell the clean masculine scent that was his alone. They stood together for a time, and Ellie wanted the moment to go on forever. Without saying a word, he turned her to face him, his hands still holding her close. She looked up at him and was about to saying something, she knew not what, when his head lowered. He was going to kiss her and she wanted him to, wanted it desperately. His lips were soft and gentle and teased the seam of her lips. She couldn’t help herself, she gasped. This was a pleasure she never thought to enjoy. As he drew her closer to him she wrapped her own arms around his neck. She fingered the strands of hair above his collar and shivered with the most delicious sensation. The kisses increased in intensity and a need to get closer to him consumed her. He kissed her closed eye lids, her ear, his lips trailing down her neck. His hands caressed her shoulders, her waist, her ribs and cupped her breasts, teasing the nipples which had hardened to firm little pebbles beneath her dress. Finally, when she could hardly breathe with an unknown need, he pulled away from her and she couldn’t help the despair that rushed through her. “Hush,” he whispered. “We must stop.” She became aware of the pounding of feet against the wooden deck. Several individuals approached the bow, and she hadn’t even heard them. What on earth had this man done to her that she could lose all sense of where she was? Embarrassment lapped at her and she slipped from his arms. “Good night,” she muttered, her voice nothing but a husky whisper.

She turned and fled to her cabin, the heat in her face announcing her shame.

FOUR Clay watched as Ellie ran for her cabin. He stood thoroughly confused. He would bet his best stallion that she had never been kissed before, but he knew his brother well enough to know Matthew was not a selfish lover. Could it be that she thought she was betraying his brother? No, she had been embarrassed, not guilty. Then there was her knowledge of politics, financial problems and the stress in the country. According to Matthew, his Elaine didn’t have much of a grasp of reality. His young mistress had been into pleasure and her attitude, according to Matt, was one day at a time. Besides, Ellie was a skilled healer and Matt had always been opposed to women who held any kind of trade or profession. Was it possible Ellie knew of his brother’s beliefs and refrained from telling him of her accomplishments? That made no sense for she seemed proud of her skill. Then there were the obvious things that did not match, her hair for one. Matthew had declared Elaine had a crown of gold, thick silken strands which she tended with such pride. According to Matt, she always piled her curls on top of her head. Even the names, although similar were not the same. Of course, Elaine could have adopted the nickname Ellie, but why hadn’t Matt called her that, instead of the formal Elaine? Finally, there was the age difference. According to his brother, Elaine was young. And Clay was certain Ellie was twenty four or twenty five. She was beautiful, though, just as Matt had said. There had to be some kind of mistake here, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it might be. There was no question the child was hers. And he had double checked Matt’s instruction. The house he visited and had watched was correct. Then there were the servants. Heck and Molly were just as Matt had said they would be. He spent the evening pacing his small cabin. There was something in this situation not right, but he could not think of a plausible explanation. He glanced around the small cabin and knew he would find no answers here. But he had a good idea how this mystery could be solved. It

would cost a bottle of ‘good ole Irish’ and he might not like the answers, but it was worth a try. Beside, he had a feeling Heck might need company to keep his mind from his wound. ~*~ Ellie could feel the heat radiating from her when she entered the cabin she shared with the two other women and Hope. She had never been so disconcerted in her life. Even in the dim light of the lantern hanging from the ceiling, she knew one of the women would notice her blushes. Nan picked up on her discomfort first. Ellie guessed Molly was still too concerned with Heck to be aware of all going on around her. “Our Ellie’s been bussed.” Nan laughed then noticed her embarrassment. “Nothin’ to be ashamed about, honey.” “I don’t have time for men,” Ellie declared, shaking her head. “Every woman has time for a man. And he seems like a goodin’. I declare, he would make this ole heart beat a little faster if he paid me any mind.” She giggled. “Nan, you are not old.” “Too old for the likes of him. And, he did kiss ya, didn’t he?” Ellie nodded and blushed again. She was still embarrassed at the mention. Molly smiled. “Nan’s right. He seems like a good man. Right nice to have someone with ya as ya grow old. And, ya got plenty of time. ‘Bout time some man gives ya a tumble.” “But we have to get away from here,” Ellie said. “We must make certain Matthew doesn’t find us. I’m not about to break a death bed promise.” Ellie leaned over Hope’s basket and smiled at the infant. “If this Clay is half the man I think he is,” Molly assured her. “He’ll look after ya both.” Ellie stood and put her fists of her hips. “Both of you, he only kissed me. It means nothing.” The noise they both made indicated they didn’t agree with her at all. “We’re still movin,” Molly muttered. “I thought we’d stop for the night.” “I’ll have to ask Clay about that tomorrow,” Ellie replied without a thought to what she had said and reached for her nightgown. “Now, this has been quite a day and I think we all need a good night’s sleep.” She headed for the tiny screen in the corner of the cabin. ~*~ It had been a waste of good whiskey. Heck was even more closed mouth when he was drinking than when he was sober. Clay groaned, remembering the conversation he’d had with one of the mates on the way to Heck’s cabin. Tomorrow they would stop in Vicksburg. They had passengers to discharge and several waiting to board for the trip to St. Louis. There was cargo to unload, additional cargo to store and supplies to be purchased. Clay

knew what waiting for supplies was like. They could be stalled in Vicksburg for several days, especially if the owners were waiting for payment before loading the supplies. By now, Matthew would have returned to New Orleans and read the missive Clay left for him. Knowing his brother, Clay suspected he would seek immediate transportation to St. Louis so he could meet the boat. And as stubborn as Matthew was, he would demand Ellie surrender Hope the minute she stepped from the boat. Clay couldn’t allow that to happen. But he had no idea how to prevent it. At least he would have more time with her. He could also hope she would forgive him for his part in all of this. She was a very special woman. He’d never felt about a woman the way he felt about Ellie. Above all else, there was a need to protect her. He did not want her hurt, and taking that child from her arms would be the worse kind of pain. Matthew would have to satisfy himself his daughter would get the best kind of love from Ellie, a mother’s care. He wasn’t ready for sleep and went outside to watch the boat make its way up the river. It was a warm night with a cloudless sky. A crescent of moon shimmered over the water. He stood at the stern and listened to the swish of water as it splashed over the wheel. But he couldn’t get Ellie and those kisses out of his mind. In the four days of travel, he knew he’d met the woman with whom he wanted to share his life. It was be-damnable that Matt was mixed up in all of this. But if his brother hadn’t insisted Clay see to the babe, he would never have met Ellie. He had to thank Matt for that at least. Only feet away, Ellie tossed and turned in her bed, her dreams a jumble of pleasant and terrifying images. In one of her dreams, she stood in Clay’s arms, but he kept pushing her away, grabbing Hope and vanishing into a mist. More than once Molly, who slept beside her, woke her with a reprimand for disturbing her sleep. Of course, as soon as Ellie sank back into repose, the dreams returned. Clay figured in different scenes. His kisses also played through the fog of sleep, with images of other caresses forcing an unknown heat to warm her. More than once she threw off the covers, only to have Molly poke her awake with instructions to leave the bed if she wasn’t going to lay still. As dawn broke Ellie felt like she had gotten no rest at all. She probably had dark circles under her eyes as a result. Molly was almost as grumpy. “If a couple of kisses are gonna bring on bad dreams, ya just better stay away from that man. I never in my life had such a night. Now, I’m gonna see to Heck.” She softened her tone a bit. “Go get some fresh air and this afternoon, ya’ll have to take a nap.”

But there was no napping that afternoon. Clay insisted on taking her into Vicksburg for a decent meal. The activity on board made any attempts to rest doubtful, for the cargo was being unloaded and passengers embarking. Sometime the next morning, additional passengers would board and Clay said the there was a mention of the need to wait for supplies. On the second day they were still in Vicksburg and they spent hours in the town. Clay insisted once again they eat together. It was during their meal that Clay became serious. “Ellie, I need to tell you something. I’m not what I seem to be.” She looked at him, and remembering some of the terror her dreams invoked, she shivered with fear. “Matthew Alden hired you to take Hope from me, didn’t he?” His guilty look told her all she needed to know. She jerked to her feet and stumbled away from the table. “She is mine. I will never give her up. On her death bed I promised my sis...” She gulped. What had she said? In her fright she had almost told him that she was not Hope’s mother. She turned and ran from the tavern, blinking against the tears that blurred her vision. Clay caught her before she reached the road. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “What did you mean, on her death bed? You are not Matthew’s former mistress are you?” She couldn’t lie to him. She shook her head and then nodded. “Well, what is it? Are you or are you not?” “Elaine was my sister. She was Matthew Alden’s mistress.” Clay took a deep breath. “Hope is not your child.” “Yes she is. I helped that babe into this world and I promised to care for her—forever. Elaine didn’t want Matthew Alden to raise her daughter. She gave her to me. I’m her mother.” She jerked against the arm Clay held trying to break free. “Matthew Alden did not hire me,” Clay said. “I’m his brother.” She gasped. “But your name is Clay Sherborn.” This was even worse than she thought. “Yes, but my name is Clay Sherborn Alden. I knew you wouldn’t talk to me if I said my last name was Alden. I’m sorry about that, but I agree. Matt and Pru should not raise the child.” She stared at him, she couldn’t help it. Was he agreeing with her? “What did you say?” “I said Matt should not raise Hope.” “You will have to explain.” “Yes, I do need to explain. I knew you couldn’t be Matt’s mistress. No disrespect to your sister, but you are a bit older than he led me to believe.”

“You haven’t explained why Matthew Alden should not raise Hope.” Clay grinned. “Pru would make a horrible mother. That’s Matt’s wife. And although Matt could give his daughter material things, I doubt she would have his love, not like she has yours.” Ellie nodded and her hopes raised just a bit. He was not going to take her child. “And Hope needs a mother’s love but she also needs a father’s care.” She looked at him. He wasn’t making any sense now. “Ellie, this is not the time or the place, but I have a great deal of affection for you.” “Affection?” “Deep feelings. I—I probably am in love with you. I want you to come back to the plantation with me as my wife.” A sudden thrill swept through her. That’s what her dreams had been about. Clay had become important to her, even more important than she was willing to admit in the clear light of day. Solemnly she said, “We have only known each other a short time, but I have great affection for you as well. I think I’m in love with you.” “You think?” Clay looked a little hurt. She grinned. “Well, no, I am in love with you, and yes, I will be your wife. But you know you will have to provide for Molly, Heck and Nan.” “I expected no less. Now, let’s go tell your friends our plans.” Another surprise waited for them on the boat. Matthew Alden with Molly and Heck beside him, waited for them in the salon. “We need to talk,” Matthew said. “You can’t have her,” Ellie shouted, unable to hide her distress. She shook off the hand Clay rested on her shoulder. “I won’t let her go.” “You don’t need to worry,” Matthew said. “I have decided to leave things as they are. Molly and Heck assure me the child will get the best of care and I will offer some financial support.” Clay slipped his arm around Ellie's waist and pulled her close. She could feel his warm breath against her cheek. “Matt, that won’t be necessary. And occasionally you’ll be able to see your daughter, who’s adorable by the way. Ellie has agreed to be my wife.” With that, he leaned down and kissed her in front of his brother and her friends. As far as Ellie was concerned, her world had become the happiest place on earth. She and Clay would raise Hope. Not only would she have a daughter to love, but a wonderful man with which to spend her life.

About Allison Allison Knight began her writing career like many authors. She read a book she didn’t like and grabbed paper and typewriter telling her family she was going to write a book. After writing classes, a critique group and lots of rewrite, she succeeded in selling her first attempt at a novel. Since then, Allison has published eighteen romances. Because she likes to share her love of the genre she presents at conferences but you’ll also find her praising the digital market while she displays her and her husband’s ereaders.

Visit our website for our growing catalogue of quality books. www.champagnebooks.com