In His Eyes(38)

The man stood even more rigid, and his forehead creased above the eyes that bore into her.

After a few more heartbeats, Ella could take it no longer. “Sir! If you don’t mind, I would like to finish dressing before we continue this most inappropriate conversation.”

Surprise startled him from whatever contemplations overtook his mind, and his dark eyes focused on her once more. Then, ridiculously, they lit with an indecorous amusement.

The heat burning in her face intensified. “Be gone!”

The man had the gall to smirk at her before finally stepping back and pulling the door closed. The nerve! And here she thought that plantation gentlemen would surely act more civilized than those that had come upon a woman traveling alone. She ground her teeth. No. She would not think on that.

Miscreant or not, she would have to face him. Still on her knees, Ella pulled the faded tan dress over her head, buttoned the clasps at the base of her throat, then climbed to her feet to shake the skirt down over her petticoat.

“Are you finished yet?”

The deep timber of his voice permeated the door and Ella startled. He listened at the threshold! Furious, she rounded the bed and flung open the door. He stood there, propped on his cane as though nothing untoward had just occurred.

She tried to steady herself. “Mr. Remington….”

“Major.”

She inwardly groaned. “Major Remington. I am very sorry you did not expect to find me in your house, and I can understand how you must feel, but bursting in on a woman in private quarters is simply unacceptable.”

“As my mother is dead, I did not expect her private quarters to be occupied.”

Ella crossed her arms. “Yet, once you saw the room was used, you still did not remove yourself.”

He shrugged, and Ella’s blood pounded. Such arrogance!

He narrowed his dark eyes on her, his gaze unabashedly roaming over her from face to foot. She forced herself to remain still.

“Odd, really. Not at all what I expected.”

She blinked at him. Whatever could he mean?

“Regardless, it simply won’t do.” His brow creased. “I must insist that you find alternative accommodations.”

Her heart tripped over itself. “But, please, sir. Surely I can continue to work for my keep?”

He shook his head. “That won’t be possible. You see—”

“Mista Westley!” Sibby burst into the room, the bundled child in her arms. She glanced to Ella, who must have looked stricken, because Sibby’s frown deepened and she crossed over to her.

As Sibby passed the baby to Ella, she spoke low. “I is right sorry. Once he’s had his say, ain’t no changin’ it. But I’ll see what help I mights can find for you.”

Speechless, Ella could only nod as she pulled Lee against her. Oh, my sweet wee one. What shall we do now?

Mr., ah, Major Remington cleared his throat. “Sibby. I have many things I need to discuss with you.”

“Yes, suh. I done figured that.” She tossed a look at Ella before following him to the stairs.

The major glanced back at Ella. “And you and I will continue this discussion later.”

Ella turned away before he could see the moisture that blurred her vision. She closed the door to the room that would no longer be hers, placed a tearful kiss on the baby’s brow, and then began to pray.



Each step sent pain flaring up his leg, regardless of how much of his weight he attempted to place on the cane. By the time Westley reached the bottom of the stairs, beads of sweat formed across his brow and attempted to slide toward his eyes, lines of moisture betraying his weakness. He grunted and used his free hand to smear them away.

“Dat leg hurtin’ you much, Mista Westley?”

He regarded the woman as he paused to rest in the foyer. “Why do you call me that?”

A spark glinted in her eye. “We don’t call no man Masta no more, suh.”

He grunted again and turned toward the back of the stairs to the doorway that would see him to the comfort of the library. “You were free years before Lincoln’s proclamation. What does that matter?”

“Just do, suh.”

He could understand that, he supposed, but that had not been the reason for his question. “Regardless, that is not the issue. I simply ask why you askew my military title.”

Some of the defiance left her voice. “Oh. Sorry, suh. You wants I should call you Major Remington?”

She followed slowly behind him and waited until he settled his frame into a leather chair near the fireplace. “Yes. That is my preference.” How odd she thought anything different.

He resisted the show of frailty rubbing his leg would bring. Already he had revealed far too much of his pain. His men would be ashamed of him. A warrior crumbled by his pitiful intolerance of a little discomfort.

Sibby looked at her feet, twisting her hands.

Westley watched her, wondering how long it would take before she started talking. He waited.

Just when he suspected he might have to voice questions they both knew he wanted answers to, she launched an assault on words that sent them spraying from her mouth like shrapnel.

“I had no idea that girl was gonna show up on the porch. But she came right on up with that baby, and he was just a squallin’. I knew he need somebody to feed him, so I took him and left her out there with them soldiers. Truth told, I thought she’d be gone soon as they were. But, no, suh, she came right on in the house and asked me if she could stay here.”