Winds of the Storm by Beverly Jenkins

Author:Beverly Jenkins [Jenkins, Beverly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, General
ISBN: 9780061736926
Google: aiD1s0it8b0C
Amazon: B000OI0E04
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-10-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Zahra lay in bed, but she wasn’t asleep. Every time she closed her eyes, the face of Archer Le Veq appeared, and her body would echo with heated remembrance. Having a man haunt her thoughts no matter where they turned was new for her; new and, in its own way, uniquely disturbing. How was she to conduct business when all she could think about was him raising her gown and filling her with his lush magic? The interlude in the garden had left her weak-legged and damp for the rest of the night. Even now, just thinking back tightened her nipples and inflamed her core. She tried not to dwell on the memories, but her mind couldn’t help reliving the sensual moments. What was she to do with the wanton ache that seemed to come over her whenever she thought of him? Believing she could surrender to him without entangling parts of herself had been fueled by her own naive arrogance. Henry Adams had dubbed her the spider. Well, the spider was caught in Archer Le Veq’s web of sensuality, and she had no idea how to break free.

Since sleep seemed to be fleeting, she got up and walked to the French doors, opening them to the chilly night. After wrapping herself in a quilt, she took a seat on one of the verandah’s wrought-iron chairs and looked up at the stars. Another problem haunting her was the fate of her parents. She’d written to them a few days ago via Wilma, who would forward it to Araminta. From there the letter would wind its way to Sanctuary in a journey that could take weeks or even months, depending on the circumstances. She prayed they were doing well and that she’d be able to see them soon. She wondered what they would think of Le Veq if they met him. Her father, James, would be wary at first—after all, Le Veq was gens de coleur—but she sensed that once he and Archer began discussing politics, the wariness would fade. Her father had been a staunch Republican after the war. He’d voted in the bloody national elections of 1886 and had encouraged others to do the same in spite of the death threats he’d received. As the head man of their small community, he’d helped organize the school and the communal association the local farmers had formed to jointly sell their crops. He’d also instituted Republican meetings, which had been held every Saturday. The meetings had always been well attended by people of all ages, who had gathered to discuss politics and to hear Republican and Black newspapers read aloud. James, like the other men in his line, was a descendant of the original James, a slave owned by William Armistead of New Kent County, Virginia. The Armisteads’ James was also the family’s first spy. In 1778, with Armistead’s permission, James did reconnaissance work for the young Marquis de Lafayette, who’d come to America to help in the fight against British troops under the command of infamous traitor Benedict Arnold.

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