Read Online Violet Fire by Brenda Joyce - Free Book Online Page A

Yankee, you don’t know or understand our ways. Let this be a lesson. You may go now.”
    For the first time Grace looked at Rathe. His gaze was steady and sympathetic. He gave her a slight, reassuring smile, then a wink, as if to say, Don’t worry, her bark is worse than her bite and we know how to handle her. She was exasperated even more for his taking the situation so lightly—or was it because he had come to her defense? She could certainly fight her own battles—she’d been doing so for years! Giving him a tight-lipped, furious glance, she left with hard, squared shoulders.
    â€œDon’t you think you were being a little harsh on her, Louisa?” Rathe asked.
    â€œOh, fie! She deserved it and worse. How dare she?”
    Rathe smiled, thinking that Grace could, and would, dare just about anything. “Why doesn’t little Geoff go to school?”
    Louisa raised an appalled eyebrow. “I happen to need him around heah. An’ damned if I’ll let my niggers attend that school!”
    â€œI think it’s a good idea,” Rathe drawled, coolly. “You need the boy heah, but he sure could be more helpful if he knew his numbers.”
    â€œRathe! What do you mean, a good idea teachin’ those darkies to read and write? It’s bad enough we have to pay the taxes for their damn schools. Look at what’s happened to the South with the niggers votin’! Those damn Republican Yankee carpetbaggers are runnin’ everythin’!”
    â€œSweetheart, the coloreds are men and women just like you and me, and no, they’re not white, but they’re as human as we are,” Rathe chided gently. “I do believe that bemoaning the fact that they are free, with civil rights, is pointless. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be happy if the Negroes started voting Democrat.”
    Louisa stared, pink and flushed. “You are a traitor, Rathe, aren’t you? A damn scalawag! Are you one of them Republicans, too? Did you even fight for the grand old South? Did you?”
    â€œDo you really care which way I vote?” he drawled, mockingly.
    â€œDid you fight for the South?” Her tone was high, strident.
    Rathe leaned against the mantel. “The War is over, Louisa. It’s been over for ten years. You’re hanging on to illusions and dreams. It’s time to let go and face reality.”
    â€œFace a carpetbagger reality? Yankee reality? Never!”
    Rathe sighed, pushing himself off of the mantel. “Enough. I stopped by because I think I left a letter from New York here.” It was, of course, only a half-truth. He’dreally returned to Melrose to catch a glimpse of Grace O’Rourke.
    Louisa stared. Then, softer, “Just tell me, did you or did you not fight for the South?”
    â€œI fought for the South all right, Louisa,” Rathe said expressionlessly. “But for my own reasons. I was sixteen when I killed my first Yank, and you know what? He was younger than I was.” His gaze was diamond-hard.
    â€œOh, Rathe, I’m sorry,” Louisa cried, coming to him and wrapping herself around him.
    He politely disengaged himself from her. “Did you notice that letter, Louisa?”
    â€œYes, it’s upstairs. Rathe, darling, why don’t you sit down.” She smiled brightly. “Are you hungry?”
    â€œIs it in your room?” he asked, already striding into the hall.
    Louisa followed him. “Yes. Rathe, aren’t you going to stay tonight?”
    â€œI’m afraid not.” He bounded up the stairs.
    â€œBut you didn’t stay last night!” she cried in protest.
    Rathe stopped and took her hand. His smile was gentle. “There’s a big card game tonight.”
    â€œThat’s what you said last night.” She pouted.
    â€œPerhaps another time,” he said quietly.
    â€œPromise?”
    He just smiled slightly. It wasn’t that Rathe hadn’t enjoyed