“I came early.”
“Lord have mercy.” She places a hand on her chest over her heart while their trunks are carried to the car. “My heart breaks for your dear sister and your family’s loss.”
Rainey stands beside her mother. She doesn’t say a single word, but she does look at me from out of the corner of her eye for a scant second. I take that moment to greet her. “Rainey, good mornin’.”
“Mornin’, Livingston.” Her reply is calm.
I try to catch her gaze once more, but she busies herself with her hat. Leonore remains unaware, as she’s already begun giving orders to the servants to take the bags to the car.
Rainey and I follow Leonore outside. In the early morning, the humidity hasn’t had an opportunity to claim the outdoors. Within a few hours, it will be impossible to walk outside without becoming coated in a thick layer of sweat.
Rainey sighs. “It’s a lovely day to travel.”
I glance at her from the corner of my eye. “Indeed.”
Are we having a conversation about the weather? As though we’re two acquaintances who have fortuitously met one another on the street and have nothing else to speak instead of.
Before Rainey can get into the car, I step into her way. Patiently, she stares at me. She doesn’t blush, and she certainly doesn’t giggle or send me a coy smile. It’s as though we never kissed, touched, or made love.
It is most interesting.
“I trust you’re doin’ well?”
She dips her head. “Quite.”
I watch her carefully. “Did you sleep okay?”
“All things considered.” Right then she lifts her gaze. My heartbeat stutters and stops. “Did you sleep all right?”
I slept as though my bed was a pile of bricks. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get comfortable, and it was because I didn’t have a wild savage whose loyal companion was her bow and arrow. I slept a grand total of two hours. Eventually, I gave up the fight when the sun began to rise, and with a sober head, I wished I was in her bed. “As well as can be,” I reply.
“Well then. We both had a pleasant night of sleep. Most remarkable.”
I don’t want to stand there and speak of pleasantries. We both have perfected the art of Southern charm. What I truly want to do is take her in my arms and kiss her, and ask if she thought about me last night as much as I thought of her.
“I believe we have a train to catch?” Rainey says.
Shaking my head slightly, I step to the side and gesture for her to move in front of me. “After you.”
Rainey smiles at me. A smile that’s been given hundreds of times, but now feels remarkably intimate. She gives that smile after she’s made love. My heart stops and stutters again. When did I become a panting schoolboy for her?
Dear God, this is a going to be one hell of a trip. I’ve survived war, but I don’t know if I will survive Rainey.
As I get into the car, I observe the woman who’s been unwittingly making my nights better. All this time, I thought I knew her. But who is Rainey Pleasonton? I think I could look at her a thousand times, talk to her in a million ways, and still find something new.
And for some reason I can’t explain, that’s utterly terrifying to me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Rainey
The trip to Savannah is wrought with tension.
I cling to my momma’s prattling like a lifeline while Livingston sits across from us. When he isn’t reading the paper, dozing off, he’s looking at me with eyes half-mast. I feigned indifference as though I was the same Rainey who continued to view Livingston as she always did.
But after the nights in my room, that’s no longer an option.
Like one of the love-sick women who pines for him, he’s frequently on my mind. I thought about what he was doing and who he was with. The nights we had together weren’t enough. I felt starved for more.
My emotions were altogether unsettling. Sooner than later, I would become sated and filled. Until then, I would try my best to be cordial. Friendly, almost. There’s a good chance it came across as stiff, but I was determined for the world to know that I was not falling in love with Livingston Lacroix. A man known to leave a trail of broken hearts.
For all anyone else knew, Livingston and I were still enemies, and words were our weapons.
But I knew the truth. I knew I loved this stubborn, arrogant man.
How could I ever let this happen? I should’ve been more diligent. More careful. I should’ve safeguarded my heart better. At what moment did it happen? Last night, when he didn’t come to my room, I had an ample amount of time to think this over. Perhaps it was our first kiss in the ballroom? Or maybe when we played the write hand at the theater? The picnic with the bachelors?
My gut tells me it’s none of those choices. It goes back further than that. Much further. I think I’d find my answer if I searched hard enough, but a part of me is afraid to find out.
How it happened is unimportant right now. How to carry on with my life is because if I continue this amicable façade, I’ll surely explode.
When we arrive in Savannah, I nearly kiss the platform. I’ve never been happier to see a train station in my entire life. Livingston escorts Momma and me off the train while a man retrieves our luggage. As we weave in and out of the crowd, avoiding passengers on the way to the platform, my body presses against Livingston’s side. Awareness trickles through me.
Don’t look at him. Do not look at him.
By the time we step outside, I nearly push myself away from Livingston, open my handbag, and furiously begin to fan myself. We stand there for several minutes before Livingston gestures to the empty benches in front of the train station entrance. I sit on the very end, hoping Momma will sit beside me, but she doesn’t. Livingston’s large male body takes the space in the middle. His long legs don’t have enough room, so he stretches them out in front of him.
While we wait for the driver Nat sent to pick us up and drive us back Brignac House, I sneak glances at Livingston. In this heat, beads of sweat have quickly gathered around his hairline. After sex, when he was spent and exhausted. He laid on top of me, and I licked a droplet of sweat running across his shoulder. It tasted like salt.
I shift and cross my legs again. When I do, my calf brushes against Livingston’s leg. In a flash, he turns toward me, and I suck in a sharp breath. His eyes are bright but strained. The muscle along his jaw jumps.
“Oh, I think that’s our driver!” Momma says, breaking through our tension-filled bubble.
He stands, and I nearly sag forward with relief. My intentions to travel with Livingston were pure. I needed to be with my best friend during this time. She was always there for me. But I didn’t take my current situation with Livingston into account.
Livingston begins to help the driver with our luggage while Momma and I fan ourselves.
“You were quiet on the train.”
“I was thinkin’.”
“About?”
“Well, Momma, I was thinkin’ on how to be a proper Southern lady.” I close my fan together long enough to tap the ends against Momma’s arm. “I want to make you proud.”
Momma sniffs and continues to fan herself. “I think the heat has gone straight to your head. You need a glass of sweet tea immediately.”