Hey guys! I need to say my deepest, deepest apologies for stalling and not publishing this.
It's taken me a while to write/edit this chapter due to writer's block, so expect the regular updates now!
Again, I'm so sorry for the wait! I hope you still like it!
Let me know with a review, please!

NINE

"Look, Monsieur Candie." Schultz said, "Your mandingos were good. But Sampson, Goldie and Eskimo Joe were your best."

I sat at the dinner table. My heart throbbed in anxiety, out of the corner of my eye watching Calvin. I was terrified that he would be on to us, on to me, but he didn't seem to notice anything suspicious. Calvin listened to Schultz, but noticed I was looking at him and gave me a small smile, reassuringly putting his hand on my thigh under the table and giving it a loving squeeze. I gave him a weak, feeble smile in return.

The candles's flames on the table twisted and danced, illuminating the cherry wood dining room. It was such a overly-expensive looking room, with furnishings of red, black and brown. A chandelier hung in the middle of the room above the dinner table. It was like the rest of the plantation, expensive looking and overdone. Calvin loved it that way, nevertheless, just liked he liked his clothes and everything else but me.

"I mean, clearly Sampson's your best. Now I know you won't sell him, nor will you ever sell him." Schultz said, shrugging, "He's a champion."

"All three," Calvin corrected, holding up three fingers, "Are champions."

Django chimed in, "Sampson's a champion. The other two are just pretty good."

I looked at Calvin, who had that happy yet irritated as hell look on his face, like someone was testing his patience but he was trying to contain his anger behind a smile. Stephen looked at Calvin in shock, surprised beyond belief that he would let an African American talk to him like that. Stephen stood next to Calvin and I, "Are you gonna let him talk to ya like that?"

"Stephen, Stephen. Relax." Calvin snipped. One of the kitchen maids went to fill my glass with champagne, but Calvin quickly covered the top of the glass with his hand before she could fill it, "No, no. No champagne for Gwen. Get her water."

"Yes, Monsieur Candie." The maid bowed a bit to the two of us, and quickly sauntered into the kitchen. I glared at Calvin, questioningly looking at him, "Why?"

With Calvin talking about Mandingos in my ear, and the stress and anxiety that was happening internally right now, I needed alcohol. "I heard alcohol's not good for the baby." Calvin explained, putting a hand on my abdomen, "And there's not a goddamn chance that I'm gonna risk that shit, Gwen."

I glared at him, but I let it go. Now that the baby was in me, he was going to treat me this way. Gentle, and he would probably ease up on the hitting, at least for now. I bit my lip to stop any back talk that I wanted to say, and was patient. The way I saw it, at least Calvin was looking out for not only me but his child.

He rarely did sporadic acts of kindness, so I didn't take it for granted. I sighed, and smiled a little at him. He kissed my cheek, his scent of cologne and bourbon encompassing me yet again. I put a hand of his that was resting on my thigh under the table. He turned to me and flashed me another small smile, and I leaned my head on his shoulder in affection.

As Calvin discussed the Mandingos and showmanship with Schultz, my mind drifted to Django and Broomhilda. The way they were together, how loving and beautiful their relationship was. Now that I was pregnant, I wanted Calvin and I to have that kind of a relationship.

What kind of an example would we be setting for our child if we were arguing and yelling at each other all the time? How would the child feel about their mother hating their father? I didn't want the endless fighting to go on anymore. I just wanted to begin really loving Calvin Candie. I knew it was going to be very difficult in situations like Mandingos and other awful things he did. In those times, I hated him more than anyone I've ever met.

When my attention was snapped out of my thoughts, Calvin was still talking to Schultz about showmanship.

"Dr. Schultz, I can assure you, there is no one here who appreciates showmanship more than Mr. Calvin J. Candie." He laughed charmingly, and Stephen laughed right with him. They both stopped, however, when Broomhilda leaned over Schultz and placed a plate in front of him. He smiled at her and she smiled back, and he thanked her in German.

"Well, well, well," Calvin said smugly, "Looks like you two are gettin' along."

Schultz laughed heartedly, "Well, Monsieur Candie, you can't imagine what it's like to not hear your native tongue in four years."

Calvin gave a sinister, smug grin to Schultz, stubbing out his cigarette on the edge of his red China plate, "I mean hell, I can't imagine two weeks in Boston."

Stephen burst out laughing and I glared at Calvin. He said that to purposely mock me. He'd gone to Boston once for a few days with me to visit my family a year after we were married. I had gotten homesick and Calvin had rolled his eyes and said to make me happy, he'd take me to Boston. When we arrived, he stuck out like sore thumb. He wore expensive, handsome clothes and had the thickest accent that anyone in the North End had ever heard. After two days Calvin erupted at me and said he couldn't take Massachusetts anymore, that we had to go back home to the plantation in Mississippi.

I remembered that I argued with him that I missed Boston, that it was my home. He was quick and cruel in correcting me that Mississippi and Candieland was my home now, and that we were leaving the "God forsaken hellhole" that was Boston, Massachusetts. I sadly said goodbye to my mother and siblings, and was off back to the deep South with my possessive husband. I hadn't gone back to Boston since. He thought that everyone in Boston was trash, and I snapped at him and told him that that was my family he was talking about. He scoffed it off and was just happy we were on our way back to Mississippi.

Everyone at the table erupted in laughter. Lara, Leo, Calvin and Stephen. I shrugged Calvin's hand off my leg, and instantly he knew he had annoyed me.

"Aw, c'mon now, Gwen. It's all just a good bit of fun." Calvin said, and I backed out of my seat, "Excuse me."

I got up and went into the kitchen. I could hear Calvin laughing off my little fit, explaining everything to Schultz and Django, "Gwen's from Boston. She's pretty goddamn proud of it. She's got the temper to prove it. Quite the Northerner, ain't she?"

The girls in the kitchen looked at me, surprised that I was back there during a dinner party. I bit my lip to contain my annoyance. Every little thing Calvin did lately just annoyed me so much. I tried to think that I would try to tolerate him more, but it was difficult. He was possessive and didn't understand anything from my standpoint. I married a villain.

I married trouble in human form.

Cora approached me as I leaned against the counter, and said gently, "Can I get ya anything, Madame Candie?"

I looked up at her, and gave her a weak, genuine smile. "I'm fine, Cora. You've been working hard all night. Why don't you and the girls take a break? If Stephen or Calvin annoys you for it, tell them I said it was okay."

Cora smiled brightly at me, "Thank you, Madame Candie. Thank you."

She exited the room, and the girls helping in the kitchen followed her. The last one leaving was Broomhilda, but I stopped her quickly. I grabbed her arm gently and brought her next to me, and said, "You can't keep looking at Django. Lara or Stephen, even Calvin, might notice it. It's too risky, Broomhilda."

"I know. I'm sorry." Broomhilda squeaked, "I just, I can't help it, Madame Candie. I haven't seen Django in so long, I just..."

She was stammering. She was really nervous, and I felt bad for her. I took her hand.

"It's okay," I soothed, "Just be more careful. Calvin's smarter than we realize."

In an instant, Calvin came walking into the kitchen, strutting in with a serious expression on his face. Broomhilda looked down when he entered the kitchen out of respected for the master of the house, and she excused herself, giving me a quick look and then exiting into the foyer outside.

"Speak of the devil..." I muttered under my breath.

"What you doin' in here, darlin'?" He asked, his right eyebrow arched, "You know I was just jokin', don't ya?"

I looked at him knowingly, "Sure you were, Calvin."

"Gwen, why are you bein' like this? Especially in front of our guests and our customers?" He asked, "I mean darlin', I love your feistiness and all, but you've been so fussy lately. I don't know if it's the hormones or whatever, but if I say one thing and ya lose your temper. You get so easily upset. I'm sorry if I said somethin' you didn't like, Gwen. Really, I am. I just want ya to be happy, that's all."

I stared at him for a minute.

Calvin Candie was apologizing to me. My husband, who never apologized, who always pretended he wasn't the reason why I cried or was upset, was really apologizing to me. Maybe he was trying to stop fighting with me for a change, just how I had been thinking. Maybe things with Calvin were going to go smooth after all. Maybe the two of us raising a baby would go much better than I envisioned it. Maybe he would make a good father to our baby if he was willing to change.

"You're apologizing?" I asked, "To me? You're seriously apologizing? You never apologize."

He looked a bit impatient, given that he had just caved and said he sorry, yet I was making him repeat it. His blue eyes bared into mine, and he exhaled. "Yes, Gwendolyn. I'm apologizin' to you."

When he called me Gwendolyn, which was very rarely, I knew he was being serious and he wanted me to pay attention to what he was saying.

I felt bad that I had blown up at him. He hadn't really done anything that terrible at dinner besides make fun of the place where I was from, but that wasn't a sin. I looked at him and his handsome face. I always had a hard time staying furious or irritated with Calvin for too long. He had this handsome face and this charm about him that made my knees tremble and my cheeks blush. When he was being sensitive and gentle, like he was now, it was a rare occurrence. I never took it for granted, either.

"It's okay," I sighed, "It's okay. I forgive you, Calvin. I just, I don't know. I've just been really upset lately. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blown up at you like that. I need to work on it. Really, I do." I ran a hand through my hair.

He snaked his hands around my hips, looking at me like the snake he was, his charming blue eyes searching mine. He looked worried about me. When he looked at me like that, he made me feel like the luckiest woman on the planet.

I remember when I first met Calvin, my mother kept saying how lucky I was to be taken under the wing of a man so powerful and wealthy. I remembered scoffing at her, not believing that she matched me up with a crazy fuck like Calvin. Yet, when I first saw him I couldn't believe how handsome he was and how charming he was, smoking a cigarette and glancing at me with those bright blue eyes that were hard to avoid. He was contagious, and instantly I knew what my mother was talking about. I was in his sights the instant he met me. He didn't care that I wasn't a Southern belle with a charming accent and expensive attributes, and I guess I liked that.

I knew he was trouble when he walked into my life. He bowed to me, gave me a smug yet charming grin, and kissed my hand.

The rest is history.

He was so handsome, so charming. It was hard not to be attracted to him.

He would support me no matter what. He was the father of my baby. He was Calvin, and right at that moment I realized I wouldn't want to be with anyone else. The fighting made our relationship stronger, and I realized that I really loved him without a doubt.

"I love you, Gwen." Calvin said, his expression serious, "Even if ya think I'm a heartless bastard."

It was so weird. I had these moments where I just loved him unconditionally and I would laugh at someone if they suggested otherwise. Then there were moments were I hated him so much that I was ready to pack my things and leave his plantation and never look back. I really wanted to change that. I wanted to always feel like the plantation with Calvin was my home, not just sometimes. I wanted the times we had sex to be loving, not aggressive and hateful like when the baby was conceived.

I wanted to always love Calvin, not just sometimes.

I stared at him.

"I love you, too." I choked out in a whisper.

He leaned in and kissed me. It was a genuine kiss, with passion, but gentle. I pressed my mouth to his and held the back of his neck while we kissed. A kiss with Calvin hadn't been this genuine in a while.

Still, in the back of my mind I still remembered what he had done earlier in the day, slaughtering D'Artagnan while he begged for his life. Flashes of the poor slave being ripped apart were suddenly flashing in my mind, and I broke away from Calvin.

He looked at me and said, offering his arm to me, "Will ya come on back to dinner, Gwen?" I nodded, giving him a feeble smile. I reached out and accepted his arm, snaking it around my own. Little did he know, I was helping Django and Broomhilda.

I loved him.

Yet, I was stabbing him in the back in front of his very eyes.

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