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  MIDNIGHT HEAT

  Moonlight Romance, Book 2

  (Second Edition)

  By

  HALEY WHITEHALL

  MIDNIGHT HEAT

  Published by Expanding Horizons Press

  Copyright 2014, 2016

  by Haley Whitehall

  Smashwords Edition

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or otherwise, including photocopy, recording or any information retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entire coincidental.

  Cover Design: Jenny Q

  Stock Image from The Reed Files

  Blurb

  Re-Release: (Midnight Heat, Haley Whitehall, Liquid Silver Books. This is a re-edited and lengthened version.)

  After the Civil War slavery ended but Allison wasn’t set free. Still held prisoner by her master in 1868, she welcomes a fiery death as her final escape. When a passing man rescues her from the flames, it soon becomes clear he desires more than her gratitude. But Allison isn’t ready to give her trust to the tall, dark, and handsome man, no matter how proper his intentions.

  George rescues Allison from the fire and intends to make the skittish woman his bride, if she’ll have him. But the stubborn woman is haunted by ghosts from the past. While he’s busy soothing her fears the ghosts turn all too real, forcing him into a final confrontation that may cost him his life.

  Dedication

  To all the women who have overcome a traumatic past to find their happily ever after.

  Chapter 1

  St. Louis, Missouri

  September 1868

  MR. GRIER KNELT in front of Allison, his hot breath bathing her lips. Her heart stilled, she braced herself for the unwanted kiss. Her captor hadn’t shaved recently and his prickly beard reminded her of a dried out cactus.

  “So tense?” he asked, his blue eyes gleaming.

  She gritted her teeth, mentally cursing. Yes, she was tense. He was a monster.

  He reached over and brushed the side of her cheek. She relaxed a fraction. Just because he was taking it slow tonight didn’t mean she wouldn’t be beaten if he got it into his head she’d disobeyed him. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His touch turned her skin cold. After all these years as his unwilling lover, she ought to be accustomed to his touch by now. Trouble was, she yearned for a different kind of touch all together. One she could experience in freedom, with the man of her choosing. Not this cruel master.

  “Come now,” he said, “give me a little sugar.”

  She spat at him. She’d never willingly give him her body and he knew it. He liked the struggle, the conquest. It made him feel like a big man. She refused to play the role tonight.

  Grier slapped her across the face.

  She inhaled sharply through her nose and did not utter a sound. That would have given him more satisfaction. At least she hadn’t borne the monster any children. After eight years, she reckoned her womb would always be empty. Thank God.

  “You better show me some respect, girl.” His harsh voice grated on her ears.

  She glared at him wishing looks could kill. If that were the case, he would have died a long time ago. Instead, her internal feeling had faded over time, her insides now numb. So numb she might as well be dead. What could a slave do? She was tired of being numb, of being used, of enduring this life. If only she could end Grier’s abuse. Tonight she wanted to die.

  He slapped her again, this time, harder. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them away. Slavery had ended over five years ago, but not for her. Grier had not set her free. None of the soldiers had come to her rescue. No one cared about her welfare.

  Allison bowed her head, her blood simmering. She jerked her leg, rattling the chain on her ankle keeping her prisoner in this small shack. Nine months ago she’d ran away, and he would not risk losing her again.

  He looked down at her foot and half-grunted, half-laughed. “You should thank me. I saved you from Mr. Coswell. He’s still fuming I didn’t hand you over to him to clear my debt. He’d have you on your back in one of his bawdy houses pleasuring every stranger who gave him money.”

  Grier picked up the plate of cornbread and beans she hadn’t touched and carried it out of the room. If he guessed she was trying to waste away, he didn’t seem concerned. She’d started out with plump curves but had dropped several pounds. Now she had a more desirable figure. Was her starvation protest actually working against her? Getting later in the year the air contained a chilly bite, and her dresses were now too big to wear. Grier preferred she stayed in her shift anyway. It made access to her forbidden place easier.

  After several precious moments alone he returned, souring the air in the room. Bare-chested, he did not look the least bit appealing. He used to be muscular, but the years had not been kind to him. His stomach had turned flabby and a smattering of light brown hair covered his chest and narrowed into a path leading to his trousers.

  But her dreams were of a different kind of man … a tall, handsome, colored man with caring eyes and a gentle touch. A colored man who would take care of her and protect her and soothe her fears.

  “I saw Mr. Coswell today.” Grier sat on the bed. “He asked about you.”

  Fear stabbed her gut, but she kept the emotion bottled deep inside. Grier had forced her to service his friend—former friend—Mr. Coswell a few times. That bastard was a ruffian disguised as a gentleman, and he bullied everyone to get his way. Thankfully Grier realized his true colors in time and despised him as equally as she did. Allison never wished to suffer his violent advances again.

  Grier laughed. “You left quite an impression on him. When he looked at you all he thought was all the money such a fine woman would bring. You mean more to me than that. Much more. I must watch him closely to make sure he doesn’t get any ideas about taking you.”

  Taking me? Allison envisioned Coswell breaking into the house, knocking Grier out, stealing the key, and carrying her off kicking and screaming. The thought turned her stomach and iced her blood.

  “He said I never paid off the loan he gave me and he threatened to take me to court.” Grier took off his other shoe and threw it on the hardwood floor. “How am I supposed to pay back my debt after the damn war took everything but you away from me?”

  Allison’s eyes widened. She knew he loved her body, but he didn’t have feelings for her. He just wanted to keep possession of his property. If she was gone, he’d only have a rundown shack to his name. He wouldn’t sell her to Coswell to pay his debts, would he?

  She sat on the floor, arms wrapped around her knees, protecting herself for the time being.

  Between the two men, she preferred Grier. She should behave tonight and give him reason to protect her from Coswell. The numbness inside her grew. How much more of this could she take?

  God if you’re listening, show me a way out, show me the way to freedom.

  Chapter 2

  GEORGE WALKED INTO town, head bowed. Even with his gray felt hat, the noon sun heated his head and backside. Sweat drenched his forehead and dust from the road stuck to his skin. Warm for late September. The wind was dead calm – not even a breeze. Seemed the weather prided itself on increasing his discomfort. Hopefully, he’d still look presentable when he arrived at the unassuming house known to harbor working women. If they thought he was nothing but a tramp, they’d send him away. The men seen entering the house were typically white and dressed in town suits. How would he be received? Ambling back to the farm without even tasting the joy of coupling with a woman would be disheartening, even humiliating. Frederick would know. His brother rooted out many of his secrets.

  To any traveler passing on the road, the house looked respectable. Other brothels touted their business. Of course, he wouldn’t be accepted there. They were flashy, classy, not for the likes of him.

  George knew better. Knew an equal amount of pleasure seekers did so quietly. His brother Frederick’s past “business” dealings had taught him a little about the bawdier side of town. And now he was striking out on his own, leaving a life of farming behind, seeking adventure on the mighty Mississippi as a roustabout. It would be his second time on the water loading and unloading cargo, and he couldn’t wait. But first, he’d become a man in the only way that truly mattered.

  Heart racing from a mix of fear and anticipation, he stepped to the front door and knocked.

  A white man with a hard jaw and round face opened the door. He stared at him with beady hazel eyes. A hint of violence soured the air around him and twisted George’s gut.

  “What do you want?” The question came out as more of a warning.

  George’s muscles tensed right between his shoulder blades, pulling him to his full height.

  The man snarled, reminding him of a dog about to bite. George blinked and then averted his eyes. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the cracker standing in the doorway didn’t much like colored folks.

  But why had a white man answered the door? Had the property been s
old?

  The man folded his arms across his chest, waiting for an answer. He wasn’t a muscular man, but definitely sturdy. George didn’t want to tangle with him.

  He swallowed hard, trying to push the nervousness back down his throat. “I … uh … was looking for company.”

  The man’s face softened into a more hospitable expression. He scanned George from head to toe. “You got money, boy?”

  “Yes, sir.” But how much did it cost?

  George pulled three dollars out of his pocket and the man grabbed them from him.

  George opened his mouth and stopped himself from protesting. That would only cause trouble. This would be an expensive roll in the hay. It better be worth every penny.

  The man stuffed the money into the pocket of his dark brown frock coat and then turned his head sideways. “Go around back,” he ordered.

  George took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. Some things would never change.

  He nodded and strolled to the back of the house.

  A colored woman held the door open for him. She was on the heavy side, her bosom large enough to support a whole brood of children, a fancy yellow dress billowing around her.

  “Why you’re just a young thing.” She grinned.

  George didn’t want to seem inexperienced. “I’m eighteen, ma’am.” The woman looked at least twelve years older than he was—not who he’d pictured for his first time. With that huge yellow dress, he’d be making love to a sunflower. He hesitated before stepping into the house.

  She waved him in. “Don’t be shy. I don’t bite.”

  Well, he’d already paid a lot more than he’d planned. He doubted he’d get a refund if he got cold feet. “Yes, ma’am,” George said, suddenly extremely self-conscious.

  They stood in the kitchen. The room smelled of coffee grounds. She walked to another door and opened it. “We’re going to the basement.”

  “Basement?” Was there a bed in the basement?

  She grabbed his hand and led him down the stairs. “Mr. Coswell doesn’t like it when we see colored customers in the rooms,” she explained. “Says it disturbs our other guests.”

  “Oh.” His money was good enough to spend but he wasn’t good enough for a room. George gritted his teeth, his gut clenching. Slaves were freed, but the differing treatment continued. It would be a miracle if white people ever viewed them as equals. The stale stench increased with each step. Was the basement ever swept or aired out? Dust floated in the air and he covered his mouth and coughed.

  At the bottom of the stairs, the woman lit a lantern.

  George scanned the basement—there wasn’t much to see. Gunny sacks and old clothes lined the floor, providing them a soft place to lie, he assumed.

  The woman tilted her head and smiled coyly. “What’s your name, handsome?”

  “George. And yours?”

  “Mary.”

  George chewed on his lip and didn’t move. His muscles molded together and he turned into a breathing statue. Frederick had told him how to hold a woman, how to caress her, but he didn’t know where to start.

  Mary let out a quiet laugh. “So, George, is this your first time?”

  George’s cheeks caught fire. He scuffed his shoe against the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mary sauntered over to him, her sweet perfume wafting to his nose.

  She put her hands on his wide shoulders and then worked her way down his arms. “Well, the first thing you gotta do is undress.”

  Although he didn’t feel attracted to her, he vowed to go through with this. Time for me to became a man in every possible sense of the word. George slid his arms out of his coat, letting it drop to the floor, then pulled down his suspenders and took off his gray trousers.

  Mary knelt in front of him. “You gonna leave your shirt on?”

  George nodded. Taking that off wasn’t necessary. Suddenly he just wanted to get this over.

  Mary stroked his cock, her fingers as silky as her dress. George panted, staring at her with more curiosity than lust. She knew how to make him feel good but he’d expected to feel something between them. There was nothing.

  She picked up the pace, his cock hardening under her ministrations. Fire built up in his belly and he moaned.

  Right before his release she stopped.

  It wasn’t fair! He was so close.

  She flashed him a playful smile. “I’m just getting you ready, honey.” He took his hand and led him over to the bed of gunnysacks. “I promise you’ll like being inside me a lot more.”

  * * * *

  George felt no more a man than before he rutted with Mary. He ambled down to the docks, dejected. He’d expected … something. But maybe his brother had held out on him. Or embellished.

  But he didn’t think so. Frederick’s passionate roar and Emma’s excited squeals always made him long for the same pleasure.

  Had he missed something?

  George reached the waterfront, still trying to figure out what had happened with Mary—or rather what hadn’t happened. He felt as if he had just hoed the garden.

  He hoped the next time would be better. It had to be better. Perhaps finding the right woman would make all the difference? Frederick had lain with many women before finding and settling on Emma. So he would probably have to do the same. Besides, he didn’t want to settle down with one woman, he wanted freedom. Freedom to taste as many female flowers as he could. One day, he would find an intoxicatingly delicious one, a well he would enjoy drinking from each day.

  Working as a roustabout, traveling from one city to another, would fit his lifestyle for now. There were plenty of women near the docks, in the colored communities spreading out from the waterfront.

  Hopefully, his next lovemaking experience wouldn’t cost him three dollars. Mary hadn’t been worth it. He sighed, a depressing thought sliding across his mind. Maybe it hadn’t been Mary’s fault. Had he done something wrong?

  He still didn’t know how to satisfy a woman. Mary hadn’t bothered to explain or show him. Listening to Frederick he’d learned some but not enough. George ran his fingers through his hair. He hated feeling like less of a man.

  Back on the plantation, the girls seldom flirted with him unless they were trying to catch his brother’s attention. Yes, he was younger, but he hadn’t been too young for hand holding or sneaking a kiss. He’d never swept a woman off her feet, though.

  Damn his brother. Frederick had sheltered him too much. Now it was time for him to feel his oats and he had no practical experience. One thing for sure, paying for sex would not likely lead to a fulfilling relationship—Frederick had gotten lucky.

  A real lady needed to be wooed. Would making love to a proper woman be different than lying with a whore?

  George reached the docks and paused, rubbing his forehead. He’d done so much thinking on the walk here his head hurt. Wasn’t sex supposed to be relaxing?

  Four steamers sat docked next to each other. He picked the biggest, fanciest-looking one and headed straight for it, good recommendations from his last boat, the Comet, in hand. He approached the first deckhand he saw and inquired about a job. They directed him to the office; he climbed the steps, knocked on the door, and after waiting a few minutes the door opened. The captain read his recommendations and looked him over. Holding his breath, George waited for his decision. He exhaled as soon as the man hired him but had little time to think. The ship sailed immediately.

  This would be just like old times—only without his big brother looming over his shoulder. Now he could prove himself. Now he’d become his own man.

  He circled the deck of the Queen Bee getting used to the new ship—bigger than the Comet, definitely higher class. Working on a better ship gave him satisfaction. At least he was moving up in the world a half step.

  He had aspirations to climb higher. He didn’t want a farm like his brother’s either. Emma had domesticated Frederick and tried to domesticate him, too. After working as a roustabout, he’d never be content isolated on a farm. Such a lonely, boring life! He wanted to live and work in the city, be in the middle of the action, and as far away from his plantation past as possible. His brother didn’t realize his aspirations. After trying many times, he’d never built the courage to confide in him. He didn’t know how Frederick would take the news.