Timothy

Buried deep in the farthest corner of the downstairs library, under the oldest, most dust covered books, behind the burgundy arm chair, beneath the burning candles hung on the walls next to the old French paintings, a little boy sat. Bright, fascinated eyes were glued to the pages of one of the oldest books his father's library had to offer. His fingers turned each page with the most delicate touch a man could ever have. Timothy Larocque was no longer that curious little boy, but could easily imagine he was again as he flipped through the pages of the only medical book his father ever owned. It was the first he'd ever gotten his hands on. The thing that had introduced him to the world of medicine and the mysteries it held. The smell alone of the age old pages sent Tim reeling back to his childhood. He took in a deep breath. Curled in the corner of the old library, with the dust and the books long since forgotten, was where he found peace of mind. This was where he found solitude. This was where he felt at home.

But the feelings could not last forever. He'd been studying alone for well over an hour. Soon his father would be looking for him, to command him in the ways of the plantation, discuss the coming planting seasons, and perhaps even scold him again about finding a bride and marrying. These meetings with his father were never pleasant. If he could find something else to occupy him then perhaps the meetings would stall. So, carefully placing a small piece of folded paper into the page he'd been reading, Timothy returned the book to its forgotten place on the shelf and left the library in pursuit of something productive to do. Enough that it would keep his father off his back for at least another hour or so.

"Rachel, come sing to me again. That church song, the one you sang for us last Christmas..."

Timothy heard the call from his mother as he exited the library. It was close to noon now, she was most likely in the smaller sitting room, working on her samplers or taking tea. Timothy found himself smiling as he shook his head. Really, the ridiculousness of a woman's purpose these days. To pleasure her husband, to run her servants round the house, and to sew for decoration. Well, no wife of his was going to waste her time with nonsensical things like stitching samplers. It was an absolutely ridiculous way to pass time when there were so many other things she could do to help her husband and run her household. If Tim had his way, his wife would need to possess at least half the work ethic of just one of the slave children to ever make him proud. He loved his sister and mother, but really, some of the social rules they followed more carefully than the Holy Book itself were utterly senseless.

Following the main hall to the large sitting room, Timothy did indeed find his mother at her stitching. Rachel also was in the room, her soft voice filling the silence with a sweet melody. Tim smiled, kissing his mother's cheek before crossing the room to sit at the writing desk in the corner. He pulled out ink and quill and picked from the draw three blank sheets of paper and the ink blotter. Listening to Rachel was as much his pleasure as his mother, if not more so. The beauty of her voice was matched only by her eyes. He sat staring at the blank pages, doing his best to not steal too many glances. It couldn't look too suspicious should his father walk into the room. He also aimed to look busy so that he would not be taken from the room for any frivolous discussions of wedding and weeding.

It felt like an eternity that he sat there listening to music his friend made. His mother had at one point closed her eyes, putting her stitching aside for the sake of the song. They all loved Rachel's music. It was the sort of voice a person might never get tired of listening to.

Once the song was finished and she'd had enough of sitting, his mother bid Timothy farewell and left to attend to one of her many other duties as lady of the house, greeting her guests. Timothy knew he ought to go prepare for Emily's arrival as well, but now that he was finally alone with Rachel, no amount of duty would pull him from her. He continued to write though, seemingly paying her little attention as he enjoyed the mere notion of her presence. He waited, silently scribbling words on a letter he'd never actualy send, until she turned to leave. Then gently but commanding he instructed her, "Sing another."

She obeyed. She had to. He sat in frozen silence, hand paused above the ink well, as she began the song. The sweet words, the quiet tones, Timothy felt his lips curl into a smile as the music flowed through his entire body. He stood, leaving the attempt to seem busy. And with ever word she sang he turned towards her a little more or stepped a little closer to her. He paused, reaching the empty fireplace behind her. His eyes traced the curves of her shoulders, her hips, her slender waist. His ears soaked in the tenderness in her voice and let it wash over the rest of his body, relaxing him with more easy than his books. He loved it. Every moment of it.

He loved her.

As the song neared its end Timothy closed the gap between them. Walking slowly up behind her, he snaked his strong arms gently over hers, folding her arms over her stomach and pressing her back into his chest. He knew she was uncomfortable. He could feel how stiff her body was against his. He knew she hated this, telling him so every time he tried. But he couldn't see the harm in something so innocent as a friendly embrace. Friendly... Rachel had been his dear friend for many years but now...now she was so much more.

The song ended but he only pulled his arms tighter around her. He knew soon she'd want him to let go. If he held her for too long she'd ask him to release her. He didn't want that moment to come too soon. Pressing his cheek against her temple he whispered in her ear "Another." and so began his hundredth attempt at convincing her of his love. No matter how many times it took he would make her understand. And someday she would admit to what he saw in her eyes when he looked at her. She loved him too.

Just One Mistake

The moment she said his name, she knew it was a mistake.  Touching his chest was a mistake too.  Mistake, mistake, every part of her brain was screaming that this entire thing was a mistake!  She should push him away and run down the hall, down the stairs, and go find a member of her family, someone she could trust to be around who wouldn't let Eric be this way with her.  Preferably Mark, wherever he had gone.  If she stayed with Mark, Eric wouldn't dare look at her like that, or tou--!!  Her thoughts cut off as a jolt of electricity seemed to spark its way through her skin, up her veins, down her spine, and then root her feet to the floor so that she couldn't move if she tried.  His fingers had moved up her bare arm to wrap around her, gliding over her shoulder, down her back, to rest on the area just over the small bustle she was wearing.  It pulled him ever so slightly closer to her, and while that only brought them an inch or so more together it was close enough that Jessalyn gasped lightly, and her hand on his chest went from tense with fear and panic to curling into his shirt slightly.  She had never noticed how good he smelled... how warm he was... how soft his touch could be...  The tingle that had never quite left her lower abdomen surged again, only this time it started to radiate through her entire body, pooling in the most private area of her body.  Oh God... this was a mistake... This shouldn't be happening... It was improper and inappropriate and sinful and... and...

... Maybe just one mistake wouldn't be too terrible to make... Maybe just... one...

But then he slowly, almost achingly, pulled his hands from her, curling them into fists and clenching his jaw so tightly that she pulled her own hand back from his chest.  It was so strange.  One moment she swore he was about to cover her mouth (and other parts of her) with his and then the next she felt cold and exposed and vulnerable as he moved away, saying through gritted teeth that God must give him strength against going mad if she didn't accept him soon.  She shut her eyes and self-consciously crossed both slender hands over herself, hooking them onto her shoulders as if trying to add one more layer he would have to get through if he wanted her as much as he seemed to.  And then when he went on to suggest that she head downstairs to greet Emily when she arrived, Jessalyn drew in a deep breath and nodded, but not to him.  To herself.  Reminding herself that all of this, this entire four or five minutes they had just shared was dripping in carnal, sexual heat.  And carnal, sexual heat did not a faithful man make.  It still wasn't proof that Eric truly cared for her, enough to marry her and spend his life with her.  It just... It didn't.  So when she finally opened her blue eyes, she nodded again at him and then slowly inched around him, walking sideways like a crab until she was free.  At that point she broke into a fast walk, both hands pushed into that tingle in her abdomen as she tried her best not to stumble.  She made it down the hall and around the corner, down the stairs and then to the front door.  There she stopped, smiling briefly at the nergo doorman as he straightened his white gloves.

"Miss Emily should be arriving soon, Miss Jessalyn," he said with a big grin.  She didn't respond.  Oh God... she could still hardly breathe...!

Desperation

She blinked, and suddenly her back was against a wall and no amount of praying was letting her fall through it.  Instead it just seemed to become more and more solid, the same way it seemed like Eric got closer and closer with every breath she took.  As she had taken step after step away from him, trying to keep a respectful distance between them, he had taken step after step forward, doing his best to close that distance until she was cornered without even getting the chance to realize it.  She couldn't even remember what he had said to her about Emily, and any words she had tried to choke out in reply had gotten caught in her throat until they died and were forgotten.  Now she stood here, her back pushed against the wall with one of his strong arms blocking her escape path and his other hand touching lightly the bare skin of her wrist.  Oh, Lord in Heaven... she wouldn't know where to begin if someone were to see this. If Mark were to see this, there was no telling what he'd do to Eric. Mark could be an obnoxious, overbearing sort of man, but he loved her and had proven it on many an occasion.  Not the least of which was the ball when she was 18 and Mark broke his hand on the jaw of a suitor who had grown too forward for a proper gentleman.  Eric was so close to the same sort of thing right now. Oh, if only she didn't want it the way she did...!

"Mr. Banning, you are on dangerous grounds here... You remember how my brother handled the last man to overstep his bounds with me.  You were there... you saw it... I don't believe Mark would be any easier with you simply because we've known you since childhood..." she whispered to him.  But the more she spoke the heavy her chest felt, until with her last words she felt as if she would suffocate. Their eyes had locked and his lips were parted ever so slightly. She could feel every slow breath he exhaled, caressing over her face and the skin exposed on her neck and shoulders and the very tops of her... Her right hand suddenly shot out, slamming against Eric's chest and pushing back against him firmly.

"Eric..." she breathed out, trying to give him a warning but the word coming out too weak to convey it properly.  Oh, God, what was this?!

She was feeling it too, Eric could see it. He could feel it. Her voice trembled as she warned him of the boundaries he was about to cross. He hardly heard her. He hardly cared. He felt her hand turning into his touch. He let his fingers venture further up her arm towards her inner elbow. But that was when he suddenly felt her hand pressing against his chest. His own breath hitched. His own body's excitement had shot up ten points by the resistance she set against him. His left hand left the walk, quickly wrapping around the back of her right shoulder. His palm and fingers pressed themselves against the silk, beneath the lace collar of her gown. He felt the soft curve of her side and the small bump of her shoulder blade. He pulled his hand down her back, following her spine to the small of her back. Her lips curved in a second shuddered whisper of his name. Shivers ran down his spine and his fingers curled against her back. He'd dreamed in cold sweats of hearing her say his name that way. In the darkest, most sinful corners of his imagination he'd listened to her whisper and moan and scream his name just like that. It took all the self control he could muster not to ask her to say it again. He wanted to hear it again, needed to. But he wouldn't ask. Jessalyn was a proper lady. What must she think of this now? Certainly voicing his desires would further prove to turn her attentions far from him.

Eric slid his hand towards him across her back, then her side, before removing his fingers from her body. His other hand followed suit. He couldn't breath. He couldn't think. But he knew well enough to realize when her temptations to him became too great. He stood where he'd been, arms at his sides. Little by little he calmed his raging desires for her, staying silent until he was able to take one step away. "God give me strength, if you don't accept me soon I may go mad," he whispered, trying not to draw attention to the bodily manifestations his longings had left him with. He swallowed thickly, trying to even his breath. "My sister will be arriving soon. Perhaps you should go to meet her." He didn't want her to go but Eric knew he needed to be far from her for at least a short time if he expected to survive the evening's meal together. He'd had no idea that this particular time away from her had left him so completely desperate for her. Eric needed to get control of this, and it needed to happen now.

Those Eyes...

She took the chance. Jessalyn left the library and rushed past the dining room, up the stairs, then started down the corridor towards her room. Alright, so far so good. All she had to do was wait until Eric was occupied, and then she could do what she pleased. Find Timothy, talk with him a little, maybe set up one of their secret night-time meetings with Rachel that he had grown fonder and fonder of in the past couple years. And if she couldn't find Timothy, she'd go riding. Or take a walk around the gardens, or maybe take the carriage and go into town for shopping... visit some people... As she thought of all the different things she could do that didn't involve seeing Eric, her heart lightened and her step quickened. Yes, there were plenty of things she could do. Plenty of distractions, plenty of things to keep her busy. Better to be busy than to be wasting her time daydreaming over one man who was... probably going to turn out just like all the rest. It was just a matter of statistics and--

She barely controlled a startled jump when she blinked and Eric was suddenly right in front of her, his stance and expression perfectly polite and gentlemanly but his eyes... Oh, his eyes, they had that look again! She glanced up into them and then quickly look down at his nose instead. But that hardly did any good because when he spoke, telling her that she was quite the distraction in the study that morning, she realized... His voice was like a vocal expression of his eyes. There was just as much intensity dripping in his words as in his eyes. Oh, God... she suddenly felt the need to get herself to a church...! But she stood her ground, letting him kiss her hand in greeting and then licking her lips as she responded to him. "My apologies again, Mr. Banning. Like I told my father... I was just excited about finally getting to see your sister today. You know how fond Emily and I are of each other. Almost like real sisters."

He let a small chuckle escape from his chest. Yes, she and his sister were very close. Impossibly so, in fact. He never did understand how two women could talk for so long about things as unimportant as decorated fabric. Then again, women's fascinations with clothing were what kept his father, and by extension him, in business. He smiled, the charming little heart-fluttering smile his mother had always told him he had. The one only Jessalyn ever saw nowadays. 

"I'm glad you are excited, Miss. My sister, Im sure, is just as excited to see you." He took a step towards her, moving their bodies closer together. She stepped back. He stepped closer. His eyes were on hers for a moment, but it wasn't long before they began to wander down. Over her neck, her collar, her chest. He kept moving closer, keeping their bodies no more than six inches away. He couldn't have explained why he was doing this. The close proximity, the silent cornering. He felt her body heat, heard her quickened breaths. He realized his breaths were just as quick and shallow. His heart was pounding in his ears. He couldn't think. It was too difficult to hear logical thought over the blood rushing in his head. 

Eric lifted his eyes from her body to her eyes. Anything she said he could hardly hear. She was against the wall now, no space for her to move away from him. They were so close. Just another step and he could press her sultry curves against his own body. His skin burned and he could feel the blood pooling in his lower abdomen. To be this close to her yet unable to have his way with her was so frustrating and yet so overwhelmingly exciting. Eric's hand lifted. He wasn't sure where he'd meant it to go, but he was certain it was no where innocent. Taking a quick deep breath he forced back control of his own limbs. Instead of touching her he slowly pressed his palm against the wall, his arm centimeters from her perfect waist. He kept his hand there stiffly, forcing his body a safe distance away from hers. 

His right hand, not as under control as his left, lifted to touch the soft sensitive skin below her wrists. His feverish skin against hers left his head spinning and his skin tingling. It was addicting. She was harder to quit than any drug. Even now, as little as he touched her, he knew it wasnt enough, and feared his body's dissatisfaction would be more than obvious...

Meetings

Eric bit his tongue until he tasted blood. It was the only way he was able to put his head back on straight. Jessalyn... When she'd looked into his eyes he felt again that raw emotion he could do nothing to hide. With a deep breath, swallowing the blood that spilled from the bite marks, Eric looked back up to the two men who had already begun again with their discussion.  He cut them off and said quickly, before either of them could even give him dirty looks, "But you're talking about either increasing workers or labor hours. Your cost will increase, raising the price of product."


But Mark replied quickly with a rebuttal of his own, "If we simply increase labor hours the costs will be no different on our end."

"But of course on our end the price of earliest shipments will increase."

"But of course," Mark smirked this time, in that annoying way as if he knew something no one else in the room did and he liked it that way, "Then again, early supply on your end also justifies higher prices."

Eric paused, and the air turned cold around them.  He slowly looked over and met Mark's eyes directly.  The tension between the two of them was obvious.  Despite growing up together, playing as children, the two of them could not be more different.  They had inherited their fathers' businesses - none of their friendship.  "I don't like the idea of your cost coming off the backs of the slaves. That's no better than blood money."

Mark's smirk grew deeper and his eyes flashed darkly "And that, Eric, is why you run a factory."

To that, he had no reply.

Several hours later, Eric left the office with a headache and a sour stomach. He hated these meetings. The complete heartlessness of the Larocque's eldest son was more than enough to make Eric want to brutally murder something. He clenched his fists, walking stiffly but quickly down the hall and up the stairs to the guest room where he'd spent the night before. He needed time alone. Time to calm himself before Emily arrived and ran his nervous in another direction, but more importantly before he saw Jessalyn again. God help him if he ran into her now. Frustrated as he was he doubted his own ability to control himself towards her.

Eric took another deep breath as he rounded the corner, but the moment he did his racing heart dropped a foot into his stomach. Walking towards him, her silky brown hair brushing the soft skin of her bare shoulders, was the one woman he'd prayed not to see right now. Not like this. He swallowed thickly, wanting to turn the other way, but it was too late. Shed seen him, and here she came towards him, her perfect form moving towards him more quickly. He swallowed again, looking over his shoulder to be sure they were alone. Then he looked back to her, his lips curving up in a smirk as he took a step forward to meet her in the middle of the hall.

"You were quite the distraction this morning, Miss Larocque." he spoke softly, holding out his hand for hers. When she gave it to him he lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss against her sweet skin. He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. Her scent was so completely intoxicating. He wished he could keep his lips against her skin for the hours upon hours he had dreams of. But eventually, reluctantly he did lower her hand and return it to her. Though he wished he could hold her now, he knew soon enough that time would come. And when it did, he would hold her forever. Completely his alone, for eternity.

The Library

"It was so strange, Rachel. I can't understand it..." she whispered, one hane pressed against her still-tingling abdomen with her other hand wrapped tight in Rachel's. She wasn't trembling and she didn't feel dizzy, but she felt close to both. It was just... It was just so strange! He'd never looked at her like that before, with his eyes all hot and staring. No one had ever looked at her like that before! "It was like he... Rachel, it was like he knows what I look like without my clothes on!"

"Jessalyn, not so loud!"

"I can't help it! You should have seen it! You'd be loud too!"

Rachel's grip on her hand tightened and she quickly pulled Jessalyn into another corner farther off down the hall, looking around cautiously to make sure no one else was around who could hear. "Well, I thought you wanted him to look at you like that? Didn't you? I remember, last night you had Hattie set out this pink dress you've got on now, you said that the color looks good on you... And I do seem to remember when Mr. Eric was down here for the spring barbeques, you didn't mind him looking at you so much then..."

"Well, it was different then, Rachel! His eyes weren't so... intense. They weren't so hungry, so burning..."Her voice trailed off into nothing and she closed her eyes for a moment, and Rachel was just opening her mouth to say something when a light voice with a slight French accent floated towards them from around a corner.

"Rachel, come sing to me again. That church song, the one you sang for us last Christmas..."

Both girls sighed at the words. "Its your mother... I have to go. She's always been kind to me, I don't want to risk that..."

Jessalyn looked down and nodded quickly, letting go of Rachel's hand and taking a deep breath. "No, I understand. It's alright. Go on, go on. I'll talk to you tonight? Maybe?" Rachel nodded at her, then touched her shoulder one last time before she walked past her and turned the corner to go into Mistress Larocque's private sitting room. Jessalyn felt bare and cold without her friend with her, but... She drew in a deep breath and imagined physically putting her head back on her shoulders where it belonged instead of rolling around up in the clouds, and then she let out her breath and walked forward. Alright. Alright, she said to herself, no more of that. She'd talk to Eric about it the next time they were alone, he'd provide a perfectly logical explanation, she'd feel like a fool for thinking it was something so serious, and it'd all be over. Yes... Yes, that was it. She walked back to her room and brushed her hair a little, being careful not to undo the curls from her hair or snag her dangling pearl earrings. She fixed the way the lace was laying across the top of her dress and then set the cameo necklace to lie on her chest properly, then she looked herself over in the mirror one more time before leaving her room and heading back towards the study. But she wasn't going to bother her father and brother again. No, she'd... She'd go down to the library. Yes, that was it. The library! She had always found sanctuary there, and she did again now. She went inside it and firmly shut both the doors, grabbing a book she'd read a hundred times and opening it again, sitting in the same chair she'd sat in since she was five years old. Naturally, she finished the book in only a few hours, sliding it back into its place on the shelf, but as she was leaving the library she saw her brother coming down the stairs and then heading outside. The meeting was over... Eric would be coming down soon... She quickly shut the door more, but not entirely, cracking it just enough that she could watch out of it and wait for him to go past so she could freely go back upstairs. But minutes passed, the clock in the entrance hall chimed the hour, and still he didn't come down. He must still be with her father, discussing last-minute things... Which meant if she hurried, she could make it to her room or her mother's room without seeing him...

Eric Banning

"Your family usually supports the Republican candidates, right, Eric?" The question had just left her mouth when Mark cut her off, telling her that she had to leave now because their meeting was urgent and couldn't be continued with her sitting there. Jessalyn looked over at him, her lips slightly parted with the orange pressed to them.  He had spoken right before she was going to take another bite, and as she blinked first at her brother, then at her father, then Eric, she self-consciously finished the bite, chewed and swallowed it, then smiled and walked forward slowly.  "Forgive me, Daddy," she said as she approached their father, "I didn't realize it was so important. I was just so excited about getting to see Emily today that I couldn't stop myself!" She giggled a little as she leaned down to kiss his cheek, and he smiled back up at her and touched her arm gently.

"It's perfectly alright, Jessy," he said, using the pet name for her that no one had used since she was ten years old. Jessalyn smiled at him again before straightening up and turning to Mark.  Her expression changed to one of apology, though her lips were still turned upwards in a smile as she approached him and kissed his cheek as well.

"I am sorry, brother," she said to him, one hand on his shoulder, "But you need to stop fretting over everything so much... you'll get wrinkles." She stood up straight and touched her finger to his brow and then to her's, smiling wider as Mark gave her an exasperated, annoyed look. She knew she got on his nerves sometimes... a lot of the time... But she also knew that he loved her, as much as if not more than their father did.  As the only girl in their entire family, she could be counted fortunate on that account.  She smiled at her brother one more time before her blue eyes wandered over to her left where Eric was sitting.  He had a very relaxed stance and an almost completely blank expression on his face. But only almost.  His eyes were far from expressionless.  If anything, when she looked into his eyes, she saw more than she felt decent seeing.  His eyes were so... hungry.  So full of want and an intensity she'd never been able to imagine even in her most shameful daydreams.  Had he looked at her that way before...?  Had she never noticed...?  Wait... She shouldn't like it... That was the way men looked at women when their intentions were impure and base and raw and... and animalistic and... and pure sin...

She breathed in deeply and then sighed it out, finally managing a polite nod at Eric while she took another bite of the orange. "I'll leave you men to disappear behind a cloud of cigar smoke, talking about money and politics and far more important things that don't concern me..." she said, trailing off with a small smile before looking back at her brother and father, then walking (maybe a little too fast) past Eric and back out the study doors.  The moment the doors closed behind her she stopped, leaning back against them with one hand pressed to her chest as it rose and fell with fast, heavy breaths.  She didn't... she didn't know why that three-second stare between them had affected her this way.  But what Jessalyn did know was that her pulse could suddenly be heard in her head and her skin felt hot and flushed as if she'd just gone riding.  She had told Rachel only last night that she wished Eric would look at her that special way, that way a man looked at a woman when he loved her.  Yes, he'd said he did before, but she could never believe him.  They were apart for months, they hardly ever exchanged letters, and even when she secretly wanted him to do something he would hardly even kiss her cheek.  Once or twice on her lips but... it was nothing significant.  Soon he'd be engaged to some northern girl and she'd just become Jessalyn, little sister of his future business partner and girl he used to flirt with.  That was the thought that she always reminded herself of.  But even when she did that now, it... it didn't stop that tingling feeling in her stomach.  It was so strange... and yet so...  Jessalyn took a deep breath and then pushed herself off the wall, walking back down the hall to find Rachel again.  She didn't know what just happened but it had flipped everything upside down...

Jessalyn Larocque

Her eyes opened slowly, and the first thing she saw was a young woman crouched down at the fireplace cleaning out ashes and putting freshly cut logs in their place. Jessalyn smiled and stretched a little before pushing back the blankets, shaking her messy brown hair from her eyes, tiptoeing forward, then pouncing downwards and wrapping both arms around the other woman in a tight hug. The young woman gave a short, startled scream that quickly turned into a laugh, and then she turned around slightly to return Jessalyn's hug. If one didn't know them, one would think the two women were childhood friends who had been separated for years. In a way, that was true. When Jessalyn had gone off to school when she was 11, it had been 6 years before she and Rachel saw each other again. So naturally, they now clung to every moment they had together with both hands. Then with Rachel always running around doing things and Jessalyn being forced to either sit still at her embroidery or go out to social events, sometimes there were entire days where they never saw each other once. And then, of course, there was the fact that no one could know they were even speaking to each other. Rachel was, after all, a slave.

But that word didn't even matter, here behind closed doors when it was just the two of them. Jessalyn could never look at Rachel with that word hanging over the other woman's head. It was just... wrong. Rachel wasn't a slave to Jessalyn. She wasn't a housegirl or a servant or a maid. She was a friend. Her best friend. And every moment they had to themselves was precious. So they hugged each other tight as if they hadn't seen one another in years, and then when they pulled apart, both women laughed a little. Finally, though, Jessalyn stood up, tucking her hair behind her ears and then taking Rachel's hands. "Help me get ready?" she asked with a smile, giggling at Rachel nodded enthusiastically. They both knew what was so special about today. Not only was Eric here, but his sister Emily was on her way and due to arrive within a few hours. Their two families had been close first in business and that had given way to legitimate relationships developing, especially between the children of each family. Jessalyn had known Eric and Emily her entire life, and Emily had to be the only other person (aside from Jessalyn's brother Timothy) who knew of and supported her friendship with Rachel. Heavens, when Emily had spent last Christmas with them, Jessalyn realized that the younger woman viewed Rachel as as much of a friend as she herself did! With Rachel with her and Emily about to join them, and Eric just down the hallway in her father's study... Jessalyn dared to say this day was looking very bright!

By the time Rachel had finished helping her, putting the last bit of curl into her hair and straightened the lace on her pink silk dress, Jessalyn was practically bouncing up and down in excitement. Rachel gave her one dash of perfume, then hugged her tight, whispered, "If he don't see how beautiful you is, he's a fool," then pulled away and playfully pushed Jessalyn towards her bedroom door. Jessalyn blushed a little, but inside she prayed to God that Rachel was right. That today might be the day that Eric... took special notice of her... But she blinked and refocused herself quickly. They smiled at each other one more time, then Jessalyn left and hurried down the hall. She reached her father's study and didn't bother knocking, just opening the double doors and walking right in with a big smile. Her father sat at his desk with Eric and her brother Mark seated in front of him in two chairs, and they were clearly in the middle of talking business. But Jessalyn didn't care. She smiled at all of them, walking right up to her father and brother, kissing both on the cheek, and bidding them good morning. She grabbed an orange from the bowl on her father's desk and started peeling it as she went to the window, looking out to the road to look for Emily's carriage.

"Emily's supposed to arrive soon, right, Daddy?" she asked, "The last time she wrote she promised she'd be here today before supper. I couldn't stand it if she was late, I miss her so much! I'm sure you do too, don't you Eric? I know how you dote on her. Besides, she promised to bring some pictures of the latest fashions out of Paris, not to mention I'm dying to know what everyone in the north is thinking of the presidential race. You know they say candidate Lincoln is going to win by a landslide?"

Mark watched his sister walk in. His father accepted his daughters kiss but said nothing of her flouncing about his meeting. Mark wasnt so accepting. He stood from his chair next to Eric and walked around the desk to stand next to his father. "Jessalyn," he interrupted her, his voice firm but kind. "our father and I are in the middle of a very important meeting." He waited for her to understand. Surely he wouldnt have to explain to her the importance of their privacy. Then again this was Jessalyn they were talking about. Perhaps spelling it out for her would indeed be the better choice. Mark looked down to his father. The older mans stoic expression gave away nothing as he watched his daughter calmly. Her place at the window, with the morning sun shining over her golden skin and the brown curls of her hair falling just so over her shoulders, had suddenly become the object of the rooms attention. Marks eyes narrowed. His sister could be so childish sometimes. Simply impossible. And their father, strict as he was, was too lenient for his good. 

On the other side of the desk, Eric sat comfortably in the chair he'd been given. His elbows rested on either arm of the chair and his hands met in the middle, one hand folded over one fist. He'd been keeping eye contact with Mr. Larocque, as was always important during matters of business, but once their discussions had been put on hold for his daughters sake, Eric's eye had fallen to the hand carved edge of the desk before him. It wasn't that Jessalyn was unpleasant to look at. Quite the contrary. If Eric were to look up at her for more than a glance he wouldn't be able to pull his eyes away. And though someday their secret would have to be exposed, for now their meetings, though few and far between, were ever so much more exciting when only they knew. Keeping their desires and affections for one another secret made the whole thing so unspeakably intoxicating. Eric had a poker face better than any man he'd ever met, but even he had a tell. His one and only weakness, that beautiful woman sitting just across the room. He took extra cautious to keep his eyes away from hers. If he were to meet her eyes he wasn't sure he'd be able to contain his obvious human needs. How long had it been since last he'd laid eyes on her? Touched her? Kissed her? Months. Long, agonizing months his own father had kept him away in New York. He had handled it then, but now, when she was so close, just thinking about it made the seconds pass like years. Just her scent was driving him insane! 

Yet on the outside, none would ever be the wiser. Mark certainly wasn't as his fists clenched around the arm of his father's chair. "Jessalyn, really, you need to leave now. This meeting is of the utmost urgency and we can not continue with you sitting here."

United Division

In the warm September air of 1861, life on the Moon Lake Plantation couldn't be better for Jessalyn and her two brothers. Their parents are healthy, their cotton fields are full, and their dear friends are visiting from New York for their last vacation of the summer. All is well in the world and no one could be happier. No one, that is, but the slaves. And Eric Banning, the wealthy son of a factory owner in New York, couldn't agree more. When the Bannings start to stir up trouble around the plantation, Jessalyn's simply life is thrown into turmoil and she has to make the most difficult choice of her life. To stand by her family and their way of thinking or join the handsome rebel in New York and find true love.

Meanwhile, Eric's sister is living in paradise. Being the upper class means the highest quality in fashion, food, and friends. But when her flirting gets her carried away, she finds herself suddenly married to a man she may never be able to love. And when Eric leaves their family business to pursue his political standings, she's left with only an old flame and some new friends to keep her spirits alive.

In the background through all of this is Rachel, a quiet slave girl who's never known anything but hard work and cruel slave drivers. She faces loss after loss as friends and family die from poor conditions or are sold to other properties. But one thing keeps her strong. The kindness of the youngest Laroque son, Timothy. They've always been friends, ever since childhood, and though their stations are different, he never inherited his father's cruelty like his older brother Mark. When Mark discovers Timothy's true feelings for Rachel, he tries to teach him a hard lesson, and Timothy and Rachel are forced to flee West from their family, friends, and everything they knew and loved. 

Facing a hard journey west, a civil war, an impossible marriage, and the loss of loved ones, these three women are in for more than they ever dreamed of facing. But one thing holds true. Love is stronger than any war.