check for fever, tucking a blanket more firmly around a small body, assuring herself that all was well.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure in the doorway.
Before she could turn, she heard Cal’s voice, tense, challenging. “How did you come to be out in that storm?”
At once the children looked nervously from one to the other and then to Dulcie. Their sudden mood switch was not lost on the Jermains, who were clearly puzzled. Just moments earlier these same children had been on the verge of sleep.
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Nathaniel protested.
The two little girls began to cry.
“Hush now.” Dulcie pressed a hand to Nathaniel’s shoulder reassuringly, then knelt to soothe the weeping girls. “No one has accused us of any wrongdoing—” she lifted her head and met Cal’s piercing stare “—have they?”
“I merely wondered why in hell anyone would be out in a small boat during such a storm.”
“I—did not know the storm was coming,” she said evasively.
“Even a fool could see—”
“The hour is late, Calhoun,” Aunt Bessie chided gently. She had been watching and listening with great interest. “We will speak of this tomorrow. Right now what they need is rest.” She turned to the young woman who was obviously the leader of this ragged band. “Miss Dulcie Trenton, may I present my oldest nephew, Calhoun Jermain.”
Each regarded the other with wariness before giving a slight nod of acknowledgment.
“Thank you, Mr. Jermain, for rescuing us.” Dulcie’s words were stiff, formal. “I thank God that our boat drifted to your shore.”
“You’d best thank Him for blowing the storm out to sea. I don’t think that old battered craft would have stayed afloat much longer,” Cal muttered. “And while you have His ear, you’d better ask for some common sense in the future or-”
“Sit, Miss Trenton.” Aunt Bessie indicated a chair in front of the fireplace. Robert had just reentered, and taking a glass of ruby liquid from his tray, she handed it to the young woman with a terse “Drink.”
Dulcie sank into the deep cushions and sipped, feeling the warmth of the wine trickle through her veins. She tried to hold on to her anger, but the warmth and the wine conspired against her. Heaven. She had just died and gone to heaven.
She heard the rumble of deep, masculine voices, as questions were asked. And the higher-pitched sounds of the children, as they answered.
“When did you last eat?” This from Aunt Bessie.
Nathaniel answered. “I don’t remember.”
“How long ago since you slept?” It was Barc’s voice, low, almost conversational.
“Many hours, I think.” Belle’s voice trembled slightly.
“Where is your home?” Aunt Bessie challenged.
“We have no home,” was Emily’s response.
There was an awkward silence.
“And none of you saw the storm coming?”
Another silence.
“Do you all belong to Miss Trenton?” A man’s voice, strong, demanding.
“Yes.” This emphatic response from Nathaniel. It caused Dulcie’s lips to curl in a dreamy smile. “Dulcie takes care of us.”
She could hardly keep up with the words, but it didn’t matter. For now, they were warm and dry and safe. That was all that mattered. And for one brief moment, she could relinquish her role as caretaker and relax her guard.
She glanced at the graceful curve of staircase that led to the second story. Perhaps they would be allowed to sleep here, curled up on the floor in front of the fireplace. If their hosts insisted upon seeing them to beds, she hoped she could just drift up, rather than climb, those stairs.
The voices seemed to fade. The half-empty glass was eased from her grip.
She must have slept, for when she opened her eyes, the fire had faded to embers and the candles had been snuffed. Against her will her lids flickered, then closed.
In the silence that followed, Dulcie felt herself being lifted in strong arms and cradled against a wall of chest. She smiled, remembering the way it had felt when Papa would carry her to her bed.
“Oh, Papa. You’re home at last.” With a sigh that arose from deep within her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her lips against his throat, breathing deeply. The male, musky scent of him filled her heart and soul and brought her the first real peace she’d known in so many years. Years filled with uncertainty and hunger and fear. But now, all that was behind her. Papa was home.
She felt herself being lowered to her bed. The edge of the soft feather mattress shifted as he sat beside her and tucked the covers around her shoulders.
As he started to move away, she caught his hand and brought it to her lips. At once she heard the quick intake of breath and the muttered oath. Her lids fluttered open.
The figure was as tall as her father and as broad of shoulder. But where Papa’s hair had been streaked with gray, this hair was as black as coal. The face unlined with age. The eyes hard, unblinking.
“You!” As before, she recoiled and felt her cheeks flame when the realization dawned. Sweet heaven. She had just made a fool of herself in front of a scowling, furious Cal Jermain.
Without a word he turned and stalked from the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Leaving her alone with her burning shame.
Cal shed his wet clothing and picked up a towel. As he dried himself, he moved to the window and watched the play of lights far out to sea. A torch flickered then died.
Only a fool or a villain would be out on such a night, he thought. So what did that make the women and children he’d rescued? Fools or…?
He leaned a hip against the sill. It was obvious they were frightened. He’d seen the same dazed looks in the eyes of hundreds of survivors across the South. Still, these seven seemed especially secretive. And what of Dulcie Trenton? There was a toughness to her. As though she was ready to challenge anyone who threatened those in her care.
The war had done that to a lot of people, he thought with a growing sense of rage. It had torn this great nation apart, destroying entire families, turning them into something less than human.
He tried, without success, to put the dark-haired woman out of his mind. In that first instant when he’d seen her, he’d thought…God in heaven, what a fool he was. There was no place in his life now for a woman. Any woman. But especially one who reminded him of the past.
Still…
She’d called him Papa. And in her sleep she’d kissed him. A natural enough mistake. But his reaction to that kiss had been totally unexpected,
