A Question of Loyalty Book Two

By Sandra Bruney

When the border between Floriana and the United States is opened after 80 years, Nathan and Caroline visit as official tourists and unofficial spies. Escorted around picturesque turn-of-the-century New Orleans, they quickly realize they are being prevented from seeing the real city - and evidence of an incipient revolution.

After two assassination attempts, Nathan begins to question his loyalty to a king who may have deliberately placed them in harm's way. The pair are determined to find out who is trying to kill them and why.

A hurricane interrupts their search, and Nathan believes Caroline has drowned in the raging waters. Grief-stricken, he joins the revolution where he must face his deepest fears. Meanwhile, Caroline refuses to believe her rescuers when they tell her Nathan fell in the battle of New Orleans. Penniless and alone, she falls desperately ill.

For once, Nathan and Caroline's paranormal abilities fail to help. Will their love for each other be enough to reunite them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Bruney
• Release date: Sep 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005694869

Sandra Bruney

I am a writer living in North Carolina. I enjoy reading, crafting, gardening, and obeying the whims of my rescue cats.

Book preview

A Question of Loyalty

by Sandy. Bruney

A Question of Loyalty

Copyright 2015 by Sandra Z. Bruney

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

Any resemblance to actual people and events is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction.

To Stephanie Taylor. Thank you for believing in me.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

About the Author

Other Books by the Author

Book Three: A Question of Time

Chapter One

Please accept my apologies for your somewhat precipitous arrival to our fair land.

If women could wear trousers like men, this wouldn’t be happening, Caroline thought as the muddy waters of the Mississippi River closed over her head.

Her skirt, getting heavier by the second as the water saturated the closely-woven cotton, dragged her inexorably toward the silted bottom of the river as she struggled against the swift current. Her chest ached with the need for air as she fought her way to the surface. A dull roaring in her ears shut out all other sound.

She saw something, a piece of tree limb or a board, just above her head. She reached for it, using all her mental energy to pull it closer, but it floated off. Either she was too tired or her power didn’t work under water.

Defeated, she let her exhausted body drift in the current. Would dying be so terrible?

Then Nathan’s image appeared in her mind, his face twisted in grief. I will not give up. She renewed her efforts and kicked her feet as best she could against the constricting skirts. The surface loomed above her, so close and yet still out of reach.

Then someone grasped her hair and yanked.

Spluttering, she emerged. The grip on her long, blonde tresses broke. Another hand grasped her arm and hauled her to the safety of the bank where a woman threw a blanket over her shoulders.

Lucky for you I saw your hair floating on the water, a gruff voice said.

Caroline struggled to draw air into her lungs. By the time she could form a coherent thought, let alone words, the man was already out of sight.

Honey, you is all right now. Step up here and catch your bref.

Caroline obeyed and then went into a paroxysm of coughing, ending by spewing a torrent of the filthy water at the woman’s feet.

Sorry! she gasped, gagging.

Don’t worry yourself none. Sister Colter’s brewed up some good, strong coffee. You come along and have a cup; you’ll be right as rain in no time. A hand grasped her elbow, urging her forward.

Her new boots squelched in protest as Caroline followed. Another woman thrust a cup in her hands and she drank the steaming, bitter brew. The first woman trudged off to find another survivor.

So this is coffee, she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. She couldn’t decide if she liked it or not. She had heard of it at home in the United States, but they couldn’t buy it there; no trade had been allowed after the borders closed during the Great Plague of 1815. The coffee sent tendrils of warmth through her limbs along with shivers of foreboding. Given the start of this trip, perhaps being the first Americans to leave the safe haven of their country to visit Floriana hadn’t been such a wise idea.

When she finally stopped shivering, she gazed around for Nathan, certain he would be with the circle of passengers, all as wet and disheveled as she.

Would he be furious with her? Of course, the accident was not her fault, but she had insisted on coming with him and had begged to make their journey via the stern-wheeler rather than the railroad Nathan preferred. And, as usual, her insistence on having her own way had landed her in trouble.

When will I learn to trust his judgment? But if I’d listened to him, I’d be sitting home, no doubt darning socks or some other boring task. She shivered again, thinking boring might be preferable.

She examined every newcomer in the waning light, certain the next would be Nathan. But even before she could make out individual features, she dismissed one as too short, another too stout. Of course, he is helping with the rescue efforts. Her husband would not stand by when action was required.

Time passed too slowly for her increasing anxiety. An official-looking man asked her name and wrote it in a small notebook, but shook his head when she inquired about Nathan. I don’t know, Mrs. Llewellen. Some passengers are still being ferried from the boat to shore. He could be among them.

By twos and threes, people were taken away in carriages, presumably to drier quarters. Still Nathan failed to appear. The unthinkable crept into her consciousness. It is possible Nathan might be one of the victims. She trembled now from fear and not the cold.

Then reason took over. Nathan knew what to do when threatened by danger. His hidden gift for shifting from their world to a parallel one had first shocked her, but she had come to accept it as a part of the man she loved. Then she remembered he would never use his gift without ensuring her safety first and anxiety returned. If I caused him harm by my selfishness, I will never forgive myself. A sob rose in her throat.

A man separated himself from the crowd and approached her. "I assume you were a passenger on the Queen of New Orleans?"

The answer was obvious, but she nodded anyway, blinking away her tears.

Was anyone with you? The man’s words were courteous, his countenance mildly curious, as if her answer wouldn’t matter much one way or the other.

My husband. Her fears now became terror and she felt faint, her heart beating erratically. I don’t see him anywhere. Her voice trembled.

All passengers have been accounted for. Who is your husband?

Nathan — Nathan Llewellen. She held her breath again, dreading his response.

Ah. I have found the right person. Please come with me, Missus Llewellen. He offered his arm as if they were at a cotillion heading for the dance floor and not in the midst of a disaster.

She ignored the invitation and demanded, Is he all right?

Yes, he—

But he never finished his sentence. A flash of auburn hair, a glitter of emerald green eyes, and Nathan’s strong arms were around her.

Caroline! Thank Jupiter. I thought you’d be on one of the rescue boats, but each time people got off, you weren’t among them.

Rescue boats?

He pointed toward the river where the Queen of New Orleans sat half submerged. The fire at her stern sent plumes of dark smoke and tiny crimson sparks spinning to the sky, while the bow tipped up above the water as if the stern-wheeler had decided to sit down mid-stream. The last rays of the setting sun bathed the macabre scene in a golden glow.

Most of us ran to the bow when the explosion happened. Luckily, we were near enough to port for a prompt rescue. Someone assured me you were on the first rescue boat, or I’d never have left the ship.

An explosion? She found it difficult to make sense of his words. She didn’t remember an explosion. She had been standing on the side of the boat admiring the sunset when suddenly she was under water, as if no time had elapsed between the two events. And maybe it hadn’t. A rim of the sun was still hovering on the horizon, yet it seemed an eternity had passed.

He stared at her disheveled hair and gown as if just now seeing her clearly. You’re wet. Are you hurt?

I don’t think so. Her teeth started to chatter again. I almost drowned, but then someone pulled me out, and these nice women gave me a cup of the most bitter drink I’ve ever tasted, although it did warm me. I must return this blanket.

We’ll take it back later.

The other man, who had remained silent during this exchange, took charge.

Your wife needs to get out of those clothes before she catches a chill. My carriage is just over there. I’ll get you to the hotel as quickly as I can.

The two men bundled Caroline into the waiting carriage, and it started off with a lurch. Caroline twisted to peer behind her at the burning wreckage and the knots of people who stood watching it. The scene had a dreamlike quality. Bits of memories came to her like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle: the sudden force at her back, the sensation of flying, the unexpected immersion…

She averted her face from the scene. What caused the boat to explode?

The stranger answered her. "Some report the captain ordered more speed. He wished to break the record recently set by the River Queen. The captains are rivals, it seems, and there was a considerable amount of money riding on the bet."

It was a stupid wager? She didn’t recognize her own, shrill voice. Was anyone killed? The chill of the evening air had been replaced by a chill coming from deep inside her body. She shivered and pulled the damp blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Two deckhands preparing for our landing. Most of the passengers were in their staterooms, getting ready to debark. You and several others decided to linger on the starboard side to watch the sunset and, unfortunately, that’s where the explosion occurred.

Nathan went to fetch my shawl, she remembered. Or he would have been with me.

I was frantic when I couldn’t find you, especially when I heard some of the passengers had been thrown overboard by the force of the explosion. This gentleman offered to help me search for you. Nathan stopped and addressed their companion. My apologies, I don’t know your name.

I am Monsieur Filmont. I was supposed to meet you at the dock in New Orleans, but of course when I heard about the accident I came at once. Filmont bowed as best he could while seated. One of the passengers pointed you out to me. He came close to smiling then, but managed to avoid it. Not that you aren’t distinguishable by your height…and hair.

Oh, yes, we were told an agent would make arrangements for our visit. A pleasure to meet you, sir. Nathan took the man’s hand and shook it.

How do you do? Caroline murmured. She offered her hand, but snatched it back when instead of shaking it he pressed it to his lips. She wanted to wipe her hand on the blanket covering her shoulders but was afraid the man might be offended. Well, let him be! I’m offended as well. And why isn’t Nathan doing anything about it? She glared at both men.

Ignoring her reaction, Filmont edged toward Nathan. Did you have any trouble at the border?

Not at all. The police were polite and efficient. I gave them the letter of safe passage from your government I received in response to my inquiries and my identification papers, and there were no further questions.

Did these papers include your passport?

Our government stopped issuing them when it closed our borders in eighteen-fifteen. I’m sure they will be made available in the future, as more people take advantage of the new law and leave the country on business or pleasure.

Just so. Monsieur Filmont stroked his pencil-thin moustache. The men who examined your papers were not police, but immigration and customs officials. However, we have not had anyone emigrating from the United States in the last eighty years. You are the first.

Caroline let her mind wander during this exchange, most of which she already knew. If they’d been alone in the carriage, she would have been in Nathan’s arms and not sitting stiffly across from him. How handsome he was compared to Monsieur Filmont! Her husband’s vivid coloring, broad shoulders, and long legs overshadowed the slim, dark man sitting next to him. She still could not believe he had chosen a too-tall, twenty-four-year-old spinster over all the women he must have met…

Nathan’s next words brought her back from her wool-gathering.

Pardon me, but we are not immigrating to Floriana, but visiting. A pleasure trip. Nathan took Caroline’s hand in his. It is our honeymoon, you see.

A delayed honeymoon, Caroline interposed quickly. We were married at the end of last summer, but have had no time until now to get away.

Ah, felicitations. Filmont’s eyes, dark as a pit viper’s, flicked from one to the other. I see you have a sense of adventure. I will do my utmost to make your visit a pleasant one. Please accept my apologies for your somewhat precipitous arrival to our fair land.

Thank you.

I have booked your rooms in the Place d’Armes. It is near restaurants and shops. I hope the arrangements meet with your approval.

And our luggage? Nathan inquired.

If your name is on your trunk, it should be delivered this evening.

If it didn’t burn up. Caroline shuddered, recalling the flames engulfing the stern of the stately Queen of New Orleans. The two huge wheels had been ablaze as well, a strange sight reflected on the turbulent waters. She didn’t think she would ever forget it.

The fire did not reach the first-class staterooms, Madame.

The carriage stopped in front of a brick building with an arched doorway under a lacy, wrought-iron balcony. Filmont stepped down first, then held his arm out to Caroline. As she alighted, she saw baskets of flowering plants cascading over the railings in a riot of reds and yellows. A fountain somewhere out of sight splashed and murmured. For the first time, she felt she was truly in another country. Floriana! Its name seemed like a song.

Although she had traveled extensively in the United States with her parents, Caroline had felt there was a feeling of sameness, no matter where they went. A hotel in New York was much the same as one in Chicago. Then her travels had been cut short by her mother’s illness and subsequent death and the need for her to remain at home to keep house for her eccentric father. Nathan had spirited her away from the dull future she’d envisioned into a world of adventure. Even so, nothing had prepared her for this onslaught of colors, scents, and sounds. The memory of her recent misadventure faded, as she gasped in delight.

Following Filmont, the couple entered the lobby where a clerk stood behind a marble desk. Soft light from a chandelier and wall sconces illuminated the scene.

Gas light. You have no electricity? Nathan raised an eyebrow.

"Non. We have plenty of gas, while the electric, it is still an experiment, n’est-ce pas? The desk clerk chattered something in rapid French and handed Filmont a brass key.

"Bon, bon. Filmont turned from the clerk and murmured to Nathan, Your trunk preceded you. It is in your room."

Thank you. Nathan took the key and bowed.

"De rien. Filmont bent his head stiffly. I wish you a good evening. Until tomorrow?"

Yes. Oh — one small matter. I never got my papers back after the officials took them. I thought perhaps they had returned them to the captain?

I will inquire. Filmont graced them with a final bow.

Taking Caroline’s arm, Nathan proceeded to the stairway behind the desk. It, too, had a wrought-iron railing and Caroline brushed her hand against the cold metal as they climbed. She felt Mr. Filmont’s eyes boring into her back. Doesn’t he ever smile? For a moment she wondered if they were as welcome as he’d intimated earlier. Then Nathan clasped her hand, and his nearness chased away her unease. She was being silly. Monsieur Filmont was a dark man with dark moods; that was all.

‘Until tomorrow?’ Is he going to be with us every minute?

I don’t know. We need a guide; evidently he has been appointed to that office, or has appointed himself. Nathan inserted the key into the lock and opened the door. The moment they were inside the room he kicked the door shut and folded her in his arms. All the time that idiot Filmont nattered on, I wanted to hold you in my arms to reassure myself you were safe and whole. Somehow, though, I hesitated to do so in front of him. I wish now I hadn’t cared so much for what he might think. He held her a long minute, then pressed his lips to hers.

She responded eagerly, as hungry for his embrace as he was to give it. Reluctantly, he drew back and appraised her. You are shivering. You need to get out of those clothes before you catch pneumonia. The bathroom must be through that door. I’ll call and have some hot soup and tea sent up.

Caroline obeyed, letting her damp and now smelly skirt slip to her feet and unbuttoning the equally wet and reeking jacket. Clad in petticoat and chemise, she sat and let Nathan tug the sodden boots from her feet.

Drat, Nathan muttered as he rose. There doesn’t seem to be a telephone.

Perhaps, like electricity, it is considered to be experimental. She pointed to a row of velvet pulls beside the door. Try one of those.

Thank Jupiter the signs above them are in both English and French. Nathan gave one of the pulls a vicious yank.

Caroline found the bathroom and yelled back, At least they have hot water! And big, fluffy towels on a warming rod! Don’t expect me out for a while.

****

Nathan expertly unfolded their clothing and put the garments in the armoire. He took Caroline’s toiletries to the bathroom and after a perfunctory knock, entered and put them on a small table by the sink. Thankfully, she showed no false modesty and continued soaping her leg, which she had lifted out of the water.

He forced himself to avert his eyes and cleared his throat, which had suddenly become tight. Are you feeling better?

I’ve stopped shaking, except I’m still shaking inside. I find it hard to believe it actually happened. It’s like a horrid nightmare from which I’m just waking.

She let her limb fall back into the water and raised an arm. Her skin gleamed like pearls in the gaslight. Although Nathan had seen her in her bath many times, her loveliness still took his breath away. It seemed impossible she was unaware of the effect of her sapphire eyes framed in thick, dark lashes or the sweet curve of her lips, but he had learned she was incapable of artistry. Her honesty was one of the many things he loved about her — and the fact that somehow she loved him in return.

She stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around her wet body. The bath helped. I feel almost myself again. She smiled at him, the dimple in her cheek deepening.

I thank God you are all right. I can’t imagine... He blinked rapidly. You are so beautiful, and I love you so much, he said in a hushed voice. I could not live without you. I want to hold you and never let you go.

Caroline dropped the towel.

You can hold me now. I assure you I am quite well.

Chapter Two

Are we in danger here, do you think?

Caroline donned her dressing robe and let Nathan tuck her into a comfortable chair. Finally able to examine their room, her lips parted in pleased surprise, forgetting for a moment the horrible first hour she had spent in Floriana. The wall facing her was brick; the others were covered with yellow- and-gold-striped paper. Her chair and its matching companion created a sitting space in one corner, and a huge armoire sat against the wall adjacent to the rumpled bed. She started to laugh.

What? Nathan paused on the way to answering a discreet knock at their door.

Strange I didn’t notice it earlier. Even the bed has a wrought-iron headboard.

After a meal of the most delicious onion soup they had ever tasted, served with light, airy croissants and a bottle of wine along with the tea Nathan had ordered, Caroline was laughing and talking as if the accident had never happened. When Nathan asked if she wanted a second glass of wine to finish the meal, she grinned mischievously. The bottle rose into the air and turned on its side as it hovered over Nathan’s glass. A stream of golden liquid poured into it, then, it uprighted itself and repeated the procedure with Caroline’s glass. The wine bottle glided back to the table, landed with a little thump, and leaned tipsily to the right before finding its balance.

Very nice. You didn’t spill a drop. I wish I knew how you did it. He motioned toward the wine bottle, now empty.

This is excellent wine. She peered at the label. From France! I never dreamed I’d ever be drinking wine from Europe. She