Catey's Capture
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Catey’s Capture
ISBN 9781419915109
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Catey’s Capture Copyright © 2008 Ainsley Abbott
Edited by Helen Woodhall.
Cover art by Philip Fuller.
Electronic book Publication April 2008
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/)
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Catey’s Capture
Ainsley Abbott
Dedicated to my husband, Peter, for his unfaltering faith and love.
Chapter One
Madam LaCroix threw open the door to her brothel and for a moment thought there was no one there. Then, just as she was about to slam the door shut, she happened to look down. A young girl lay unconscious on the steps, her clothes tattered, her long golden tresses tangled and matted, her porcelain skin pale to near translucence.
“Bridgette!” Agatha LaCroix shouted, “Come quickly. Bring Darla. We have a small wounded bird to tend to.”
When Sarah woke she looked around herself in confusion. She was in a soft, featherbed in a bright room with red-flocked wallpaper and velvet curtains. Surely she must be dreaming! The war… No one would have rich fittings like this anymore. Unless…
Then it all began to flood back to her and she felt suddenly sick.
* * * * *
It was 1865. The war between North and South was raging. Her brothers, Emery and Jake, had joined the Confederate army in 1862 to fight the Yankees. Her father, Thomas Allendale, was conscripted a year later and killed during the siege of Vicksburg. Shortly after hearing of their master’s death, the slaves ran off from Allendale plantation and Sarah, her mother Martha and sister Catey were left to fend for themselves.
Sarah’s mother never quite recovered from the shock of her husband’s death. She became weak and lethargic. Sarah and Catey tried in vain to coax her back to health but she was not a strong woman and succumbed. The two sisters buried their mother in the small plot behind the house where the other generations of Allendales were interred. There was little time to grieve. There were too many dangers. Jayhawkers were a constant threat, though Sarah and Catey were lucky their father’s name was one of the few among plantation owners respected by such lawless gangs.
But Sarah cringed as she remembered the day the Yankee troop rode up to the entrance of Allendale Plantation.
“Hide yourself!” Catey told Sarah urgently. “Run out the back and hide in the woods.”
Sarah did as she was told. Catey was two years her senior and she’d never heard such urgency in her voice before. It brooked no argument. She ran.
Catey grabbed her father’s old musket and marched out onto the wide front veranda and confronted the Yankee soldiers, her face hard with grim determination.
Sarah moved covertly to a position in the trees where she could see what was happening but still be completely hidden.
“Well, well, well!” The commanding officer assessed Catey appreciatively from atop his impressive mount, taking in her burnished hair and petite frame. He turned in the saddle and smiled at the men behind him. “Looks like we’ve found ourselves a good Christian woman, boys.”
The other soldiers chuckled. Sarah shivered. She didn’t like the look in their eyes.
But Catey didn’t flinch. “You boys’ll have to move along, now. We have nothing for you here. If you want food, we can give you soup—it’s all that’s left.”
The officer dismounted and walked slowly up the steps toward Catey, casually removing his riding gloves. He was head and shoulders taller than Catey and with a spring to his step that spoke of a lithely athletic body. His face was dark from the sun, with at least two days’ growth of stubble. His hair was a warm, sun-streaked brown. His blue uniform, while still sporting some of its gold buttons, was tattered and dirty.
“Why soup would be just fine, ma’am,” he said. “If you could fetch us some, we’ll have a quick bite then be on our way. No need to bother a pretty little thing like you.”
By now he was standing directly in front of Catey, her musket muzzle only inches from his chest. Sarah could see Catey hesitate as she looked into his eyes.
Shoot him, Catey! Sarah thought urgently, Don’t listen to him!
But even as the thought filled her mind, Catey lowered the gun, a small smile touching her mouth.
“Why thank you… Lieutenant?”
“Just call me Jess, ma’am, Jess Granger.” In one swift movement, he grabbed the musket out of Catey’s hands. Her eyes widened in sudden fear and confusion. “No need to be formal, sweet lips,” Jess said, “’cause we’re gonna get nice and friendly.”
Catey was backing toward the door like a cornered rabbit. The other soldiers dismounted and gathered in a group, as though waiting for a show to begin.
Jess tossed the musket to them, then reached out and gripped Catey by the wrist. She gave a startled squeak as he pulled her roughly to him. He lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.
Sarah could see her sister struggle—legs kicking out uselessly, arms flailing. She stood up as though to run to Catey’s aid but before she could move a strong arm caught her around the waist and a hand clamped over her mouth, smothering her scream of terror.
Jess knew the minute he saw the girl burst out onto the pillared plantation porch, her rose-petal lips set with determination, her hands shaking slightly as she held the musket, that he was going to have to do things the hard way. He’d been riding with Captain Leroy Clemens for long enough to know that no female was safe with him—especially a Southern one. Clemens felt it his personal duty to punish the Southern people for this war and he didn’t care who got hurt. At first, Clemens appeared to be somewhat humane but as time went by Jess suspected his superior officer’s mental state deteriorated. Now Clemens was no more than an animal, gleaning deep satisfaction from abusing the women and children he found. It made Jess’ blood boil to have to stand by and watch.
Thankfully this time Clemens broke his troop in half at the crossroads at Carver’s Bluff, sending Jess and a small contingent here, to Allendale plantation. His orders were to destroy it but all Jess could think was maybe he could keep this girl safe.
When she’d appeared on the sweeping veranda, her thick curls pulled back into an untidy knot at the nape of her neck, wisps framing her porcelain face, he knew he must protect her. He knew he couldn’t let Clemens and his men have her the way they’d taken other women. He could see already she was both spirited and innocent all at once and he couldn’t bear to see such beauty destroyed by the likes of Leroy Clemens and his henchmen.
The dilemma Jess faced, however, was how to protect her without Clemens finding out. He had no firm plan—could only follow his instincts. He knew she wouldn’t shoot him and when she’d lowered the gun, he sighed inwardly at her naïveté.
As he saw it, the only way he could help her was by making his men think she was his. He was their senior officer and they’d respect that, at least for a while, until he was able to figure out what to do with her.
So he disposed of the weapon and pulled her to him and kissed her. He knew he had to make it look good in front of the men. They must believe he wanted her first—and that he wouldn’t stand for any interference. But when she’d looked at him with those wide blue-violet eyes, he nearly lost his courage. He hadn’t counted on the sweet taste of her full lips, or the softness of her skin, or the way her struggles excited him.
But he’d done what he must. He kissed her hard, driving the breath out of her, feeling her heart flutter wildly against his chest. What surprised him and oddly touched him, was, just before she fainted, she seemed to kiss him back.
Catey felt confused from the very moment she clapped eyes on the Yankee lieutenant. He was so very handsome, despite his disheveled appearance and the worn uniform. But most of all, she was transfixed by his eyes—hazel, with thick boyish lashes. She was sure she saw honesty in them. And when he’d come closer—when he was within a muzzle length of her—she was just as sure those eyes held kindness and compassion and a sadness that looked like regret.
Catey knew her mother would never have let her guard down but Catey was different. She’d always followed her instincts—trusted them. And her instincts had never let her down. Now they told her that Jess Granger was a good man and would do her no harm. But, for the first time, she was wrong.
He pulled her roughly to him so that she felt as though she were suffocating. Jess’ mouth claimed hers roughly, his whiskers abrasive. He pulled her closer and she could feel the rise of his hard shaft taut against her midriff.
A strange mixture of panic and desire swept her. She remembered watching her father’s breeding stallion at work. The horse’s penis, usually dangling flaccidly, when fully engorged was longer than a man’s arm and as wide as a maypole. The mare, her eyes rounding so the whites showed, was kept from bolting by three or four men with ropes. This allowed the stallion to mount her from the rear. Catey watched, fascinated, as the stallion’s huge organ prodded urgently until it found the opening to the mare’s opening. The mare tried to bolt and emitted a high, shrill whinny but the stallion’s engorged penis found its mark and he thrust it in to the hilt.
Catey couldn’t pull her eyes away. The stallion pumped in and out, his powerful hips rippling with the effort, his eyes glazed, foam bubbling from his lips until he suddenly shuddered, ceased his efforts and dropped down from the back of the mare leaving her trembling, both of them panting and lathered. Catey had felt suddenly weak herself and wondered why she felt a wetness in that secret spot between her legs and why there was a strange clenching sensation in her abdomen.
Now, as Jess pressed himself harder against her and his tongue forced its way into her mouth, she was afraid—but at the same time excited. He tasted, not unpleasantly, of a mixture of sweetness, salt and tobacco and she found it hard to breathe. He pulled her closer and ground the bulge of his penis against her, the pressure of it driving out what little breath she had left until blackness fell.
* * * * *
Catey awoke in her parents’ bed. It was a huge, impressive piece of furniture complete with canopy, draperies and four thick, carved mahogany posts. She tried to move but discovered her wrists were tied securely to the bedstead with lengths of fabric ripped from her petticoat. Her ankles were similarly tied to the bed’s foot bar. She realized she was dressed only in her chemise and pantaloons, leaving her feeling exposed, her breasts barely covered. She struggled, testing the bonds but it was useless. She was virtually immobile.
“Good, you’re awake. I must apologize for what happened out there, Miss…?”
She glared at the Yankee lieutenant who sat in a chair nearby. He was casually holding one of her father’s imported cigars and vanilla-scented smoke drifted languidly into the air. She sent a mouthful of spit in his direction but missed. He frowned and put the cigar out in a small bowl that once held her mother’s rings.
“Where are my clothes?” she hissed.
He gestured to a nearby chair where her dress, stockings and shoes were neatly placed.
He sighed. “Never mind, sweet lips,” he said, “you don’t have to tell me your name if you don’t want to. I can understand how you must feel.”
“How could you understand?”
He leaned forward in his chair and rubbed his hands over his tired eyes. God, what could he say to her?
“Listen,” he said, “whether you believe me or not, I mean you no harm.”
“Is that why you have me trussed up?”
“I had to. You see—”
“Lieutenant Granger, I was stupid to trust you. Mother always told me never to trust a Yankee and I was wrong not to believe her. She also told me what Yankees do to women who are alone and defenseless.” She looked directly at him and her eyes were steely, challenging. “Just know, sir, you can do what you will with my body but you will never compromise my dignity.”
He stood up and came over to the bed. Catey went to spit at him again but he clamped a warm hand over her mouth preventing her.
He reached over and grabbed one of her stockings, then lifted her head and pushed it into her mouth, tying another strip torn from her petticoat over her mouth and behind her head so she could no longer spit—or scream. He smiled at her sadly. “You need to learn to behave, sweet lips—and listen for once.”
She thrashed furiously, her hair coming loose and frizzing into dark clouds. He could see that she was angry but what surprised him was she didn’t seem afraid. Was it courage, or naïveté?
He sat down on the bed next to her and when she’d exhausted her efforts and lay glaring up at him, her breasts heaving from the exertion, he gently pushed the stray locks of hair away from her moist face.
“Now you see why I had to tie you?” he said gently.
She snorted with derision and he smiled, secretly proud of her unremitting outrage.
“I’m going to tell you some facts, darlin’. You may not like to hear them and you may not agree but it’s the best plan I have and I’m afraid you’ll just have to do as I say.”
She continued to glare at him with eyes wary but also curious. She was starkly aware of the warmth and gentleness of his fingers as he pushed the hair away from her face.
“For the past six months our infantry division has been taking Southern towns and homes. Our orders have been to loot, pillage and destroy. Captain Clemens, my commanding officer, has told us he wants no prisoners. The fact is, we have no place for prisoners. They require feeding and care and we’re having enough trouble trying to sustain ourselves without added mouths to feed.”
As if of their own accord, Jess’ fingers drifted to her bodice and fingered the thin fabric there, his eyes taking in the soft curve of breasts beneath. He took a deep breath and continued.
“I’ve been serving under Clemens for a long time. He shows no mercy. Do you know the Edgertons?”
Catey nodded. The Edgertons lived in a neighboring plantation. Colonel Edgerton had gone off to war and Mrs. Edgerton and Marcella were in much the same situation as she and Sarah. Marcy was a good friend.
Jess sighed. “Clemens raided their plantation three days ago. Clemens personally raped both women. He’s a sadist—likes to use whips and manacles and takes his women anally. Once he’d had his fill of them, he turned them over to his men.”
Catey gasped, her eyes wide with horror.
“The men used them for sex, day and night—sometimes two men at a time. There were other things they did to them…unspeakable things. I believe the girl died of a severe hemorrhage after one of the men tried to use… Well, I think you get the picture. The mother lived for another day until she killed herself by slicing her wrists with a shard of glass.” Jess paused and squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the horrific incidents and feeling sick all over again. “I couldn’t stop it, although I tried. I ended up with twenty lashes for my trouble.” He paused and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Some men become less than animals during war.”
Tears trickled from C
atey’s eyes as she remembered the sparkling, witty charm of her friend Marcy.
Jess opened his eyes again and looked down at the girl. She was trembling. He stroked her cheek gently, trying to soothe her.
“I’m sorry I had to tell you that,” he said, “but you have to know the brutal truth to understand what we must do.”
He had her full attention now.
“Can I take the gag off?”
She hesitated only briefly, then nodded.
He lifted her head and untied the knot, careful not to catch or pull her hair. Finally the gag was free and she coughed and ran a tongue over her dry lips.
“Marcy was my friend,” she said hoarsely. “How could you do such a thing to her?”
“I swear, it wasn’t me!” he said. “I rode in after the fact. Clemens knows I don’t approve of the way he does things, so he sent me off on scout duty the minute we arrived. I found out what happened when I returned. It made me sick. I confronted Clemens and…well, took my punishment for insubordination.
“Clemens split the troop at Carver’s Bluff and sent me with half the men here. He’s gone in the other direction.”
“Toward Pine Ridge,” Catey said quietly.
“Is that to the west?”
“Yes. He won’t find anyone there. The Braxtons packed up and left months ago.”
“Well, that’s one thing to be thankful for,” Jess said. “On the other hand, he won’t spend too much time hanging around if there’s nothing there. They’ll torch the place and come here as soon as possible.”
Catey flinched but turned her beautiful eyes up at him and he could see she was truly frightened. “What can we do?” she whispered.
Jess relaxed inwardly. She’d said “we”. Maybe she was beginning to trust him.
“There’s only one thing I can think to do,” he said, gathering all his courage to lay his plan open to her. He took a deep breath. “I’m second-in-command. My father is… Well, he’s very influential among the upper ranks, that’s why Clemens has only resorted to flogging me instead of having me shot.” He smiled ruefully. “The only way I can hope to make him leave you alone is if he believes you’re mine—that I’ve taken you as my personal trophy, so to speak. While he hates me, he’s still afraid of me—afraid of what my father might do if reports get back that he’s mistreated me. It’s the only leverage I have.”