Susanna Fraser by A Dream Defiant

breasts through her shift and felt her nipple go as hard as his cock, “...not to mention this.” He ran his hand down to the swell of her hip.
    They kissed, hard and fierce, and when at last they broke apart, both of them were gasping as if they’d been running a race. Rose swallowed and trailed her fingertips down the side of his face. “Luisa thinks I’ll be ready to wear a shoe again by next Wednesday.”
    He grinned. “I’ll be looking forward to it—though I think you’ll be glad enough to have that shoe off again, come nightfall.”
    “Oh, I will. For many reasons.”
    They kissed once more for good measure before settling themselves for sleep, but Elijah’s happiness ebbed as he lay awake in the darkness. He wanted Rose, and he didn’t think he could resist her much longer. But no matter how much she liked and desired him, was it enough to keep her from regretting this choice a few years down the road, once she’d had a chance to hear every coarse jest about white women with black men repeated a few dozen times. And was she ready to be the mother of brown-skinned babies who’d grow up to face their own share of society’s judgment and disdain?
    * * *
    Rose’s burn continued to heal well, and just as she’d hoped, by Wednesday the blisters were all gone. The skin beneath them was still soft, pink and faintly scarred, but when she tugged on her stocking and laced up her half-boot, the pressure didn’t pain her, and she could at last walk again with a brisk, easy stride.
    At Luisa’s insistence, she still rode in the baggage wagon for much of the day, but during the hottest part of the afternoon, while Luisa dozed and both Jake and Fernando slept, Rose jumped down from the wagon to let the summer breeze cool her and to enjoy her newly restored freedom.
    They marched through lovely countryside, almost green enough for England but far more rugged than anything near her Bedfordshire home. Rose hardly noticed her surroundings. Now that she was about to make her marriage to Elijah real, she found her thoughts turning to Sam, saying the proper goodbye she’d hardly had the chance for after his sudden death and the upheaval it had made in her life.
    She truly believed Sam was safe and happy in heaven, but she didn’t know whether he could see her now any more than she could him. Still, she addressed the Sam of her memory and imagination. I’ll always love you , she assured him. I’ll always be glad I had you for my husband , and I’ll tell Jake all about you. I’ll take good care of him —we will. You liked Elijah so much , and I hope you’re happy I chose him.
    The more she turned the matter over in her mind, the more sure she was that Sam would indeed have understood and approved. He’d known the way of the army, that if he fell, she wouldn’t have the opportunity to mourn him in a long widowhood. Now she could recognize that when he’d asked her on the eve of battle whom she’d wed next if he died, he hadn’t intended to be heartless and morbid. He’d only meant he understood her position, and she should be ready to choose well for Jake’s sake and her own.
    She had chosen well. Of that she was certain. Sam would’ve wanted her to be happy, and she meant to be. Thank you for the rubies , she added to her message for his ghost. We’re going to use them just as you wished.
    Lost in her thoughts, she was only vaguely aware that she’d passed all the wagons and caught up with the straggling end of the regiment until she heard a nasty voice call out, “There she is, the Negro-loving bitch.”
    Jerked abruptly from her happy reverie, she froze and looked around her. George Yonge, damn him, just now healed enough from his flogging to resume his duties, with a pair of his friends, Horton and Keefe—troublemakers Rose had avoided as best she could in all her years with the regiment.
    They approached to within a few feet of her, surrounding her on three sides. The road before them curved in a