Beth Stevens walked down the magnificent drive of oaks, towards the plantation house. She had waited until the last tour of the day because she wanted to be able to linger a little and ask some questions. It was a beautiful spring day, and the grounds of the plantation on the Ashley River in South Carolina was a perfect setting. The plantation had been in movies and photo shoots for decades, and it was the epitome of the antebellum south.

There had been plenty to occupy her time during the afternoon. She had taken a tractor tour of the farms, walked along the river, toured the old boathouse, studied the gardens, eaten in the café, admired the stables, and shopped in the store. It wasn't hard to picture how the place had looked two-hundred years previous when it was an operational plantation.

While Beth had enjoyed her day, she wasn't playing tourist. She was there on a fact-finding mission. She was a history major at the University of Georgia, and she had decided to study her family tree for one of her class projects. Her father's side was well documented, but her mother's side was a mystery, and there was nothing that Beth loved more than a good mystery. After months spent in libraries and online, she had traced her maternal side back to one woman named Mary and the  River Moss Plantation. Mary had been an African woman brought to Charleston in 1840 and sold to the Ramsey family as a slave. The records of her sale claimed that Mary was about nineteen, which was Beth's current age. It was a fate that was impossible for Beth to identify with, not only because her skin was white but because she was raised in a world of privilege, unlike Mary, who hadn't had a choice.

However, since Mary was one of her great grandmothers, she wanted to know what it had been like for her living at River Moss Plantation. Beth was connected to Mary by blood, and for her to have survived and fought for her freedom meant that she had to have been a hell of a strong woman. Beth was hoping that in finding her, she could find some of her strength.

Beth walked up the steps, following the crowd that had gathered at the bidding of the tour guide. Beth was short, and it was hard for her to see over the tall people in front of her, so she worked her way around the edge of the crowd until she found an opening that allowed her to see the man who was talking.

The man was unbelievably handsome, and Beth could hear the comments of the admiring women around her. He was tall with dark hair trimmed short, a white button-down dress shirt with the plantation's logo and blue jeans. His voice was deep, and the southern drawl was outrageously charming. His smile was meant to charm as well, and Beth had the feeling that he was laying it on a little thick for the audience.

He welcomed them, introducing himself as Wyatt and telling them how pleased he was that they were there. When he turned to rake his gaze over Beth's side of the group, she noticed his shocking green eyes. He flashed another smile at Beth, and she could only stoically stare at him, her eyes unblinking behind her thick glasses. His smile faltered and looked at her oddly before smiling again and turning his attention back towards the crowd.

Beth wanted to kick herself. She knew when a handsome man smiled at her, she was supposed to smile back. Her twin sister, Mave, had lectured her on it ad-nauseum over the years. Mave wasn't like her though, where Mave was a beautiful strawberry blond with long legs, the Stevens family blue eyes, and took after their father Rainer Stevens, Beth was dishwater blond on the short side with brown eyes like her mother, Alice Stevens. They couldn't be more different in not only their looks but their confidence.

Wyatt ended his lecture on the rules and started the tour by leading them all inside the house. He held the door open while those on tour passed him, and Beth couldn't help but be aware of Wyatt as she brushed by him while he talked to the other guests. She wanted to look at him but didn't dare, so she moved to the other side of the room as soon as she was able.

Wyatt regaled them with tales of the Ramsey family, how they had ended up in the area through land grants, the beginnings of the plantation, and the building of the house. He didn't shy away from talking about the fact that the family had owned slaves, and he even told them about a few of the families more risqué family members.

The 1790 house was beautiful, with wide planked heart pine floors, large windows, and deep fireplaces. It was easy to picture what the house would have looked like two hundred years previous when Mary had been enslaved there. However, Beth didn't see what she wanted to see. She saw things from the point of view of the wealthy plantation owners that had lived there. What she wanted to learn about was what life would have been like for Mary.

When Wyatt told them that he would be taking them down to what was known as Slave Row, Beth took a shaky breath. She was excited but afraid at the same time. She was afraid that she was invading the history of her ancestors and that because her skin was white, she had no right to be there. She was excited to finally see where Mary had walked and lived.

The group was led through the gardens, and Beth stayed at the back of the group, watching as Wyatt talked and flirted with the other women. She pegged his age at about thirty give or take a few years, and she wondered what made him want to give tours of an old plantation house.

He held the gate that separated the main house from Slave Row, and as Beth passed him, she noticed that his charming smile was gone, and the muscle in his jaw was ticking. Her eyes met his as he nodded at her word of thanks.

Then she watched, amazed as Wyatt turned towards the crowd and smiled once more. He talked about the history of Slave Row, giving a lot of information quickly. They were told how many slaves had lived there, how much they had cost, and Wyatt even talked about the transition from slavery to sharecropping. The group was then allowed to explore the area on their own for a few minutes as Wyatt informed them that he would be around to answer any questions they might have.

Wyatt had mentioned that one of the cabins had a list of all the slaves that had been owned by the family on the wall, and Beth wandered over to that one first. An exhibit was set up to represent the way the cabin would have looked when it was lived in by slaves. It also went into a lot more detail about the individual slaves on the plantation, and one of them was called Mary. There was even a photograph.

Beth felt her heart stop as she looked at the woman who was her grandmother. Mary looked somber, and her eyes were full of wisdom. The date on the photograph was 1860, which would have made her about thirty-eight years old. Beth turned her eyes away from Mary's image and read the written information beside it. It talked of Mary's history on the plantation and of the respect she earned from all who knew her, including the Ramsey family. Beth felt her gut turn. They didn't respect Mary enough to give her freedom!

"She is fascinating, isn't she?" Beth heard Wyatt's southern drawl next to her.

Beth looked around and noticed everyone else had left the cabin. Unable to speak, she nodded.

"It feels as if she can see all of your secrets, doesn't it?" he tried again.

"No, it feels as if she has a deep understanding of life and has chosen forgiveness over hatred." Beth cleared her throat, fighting back the tears.

"Perhaps that's the secret to life?" Wyatt said, stepping away.

"She's one of my great grandmothers!" Beth said with a burst of pride. "That's why I'm here. I wanted to meet her as best I could. I didn't know you had a photograph." Beth looked up at Wyatt and noted his interested gaze.

"Is she really?" he invited.

Beth nodded. "I've been researching my family tree for a class project, and I found her." She quickly looked away from him and back towards the photo.

"A class project, you don't say." He took another step back and shoved his hands into his pockets, movements that Beth missed. "I believe we have more on Mary in our family journals and archives."

Beth turned to look at him, her eyes growing wide. "Your family archives?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm Wyatt Ramsey." He held out his hand.

Beth looked at him with a shocked gaze as she numbly took his hand. "Beth Stevens. Your family owned my family."

"Is that a statement or a question?" he asked in an amused tone.

"It's not funny!" Beth said, full of indignation.

Wyatt's smile faded. "No, the fact of it isn't, but your shock is adorably naïve, which makes me smile."

Beth's face grew red, but she didn't know if it was because he had called her adorable or naïve. "Can I see your archives?" she asked.

"They aren't here on-site, but if you give me your contact information, I'll be sure that you get what I have on Mary," he assured her.

Beth reached into her small purse and pulled out a pen, writing out all her information on the back of the brochure, which she quickly handed over to him without a second thought.

"As I said, adorably naïve." He took the brochure and folded it as the door to the cabin slammed shut.

"What the hell!" Wyatt said as he walked quickly to the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn't give. All the shutters on the windows were closed, but Wyatt shouted through one of them that he could get partially opened. "He's wearing his headphones again!" he grumbled as he pulled out his phone.

Beth stood watching him in shocked silence, her mind slow to piece together what had just happened, but eventually it clicked. "Are we locked in here?" she asked.

"It appears that way!" he answered as he stalked around the small cabin waving his phone around. "Check your phone!" he demanded. Usually, it would have been a tone that would have made her bristle, but she was still in a state of shock at the thought that they were trapped in the cabin and couldn't leave.

Beth pulled out her phone and looked down at it, noting that she had no service. "I don't have any service," she told him.

Wyatt stopped pacing and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for my overreaction."

"It's alright," Beth politely said as she slipped her phone back into her purse.

"Class project, uh. I'm guessing this is taking it to the next level." Then he started to pace again.

Beth couldn't help the little spark that lit her. "A night spent in a cabin where Mary lived. Did she live in this cabin?"

"I have no idea, but sleeping in a slave cabin for one night is a long way from living the life of a slave," he said drily.

"I understand that, but still, it's something." Beth looked around her, and she didn't notice Wyatt watching her.

"Where are you attending school?" he asked, walking over to a wall and sliding to the floor with his back against it.

"University of Georgia," she answered as she walked over to Mary's photograph again.

"Graduate or undergraduate?" he asked as he closed his eyes.

"Undergraduate, I'm a history major." Beth was caught by Mary's gaze once more, but this time she swore there was a lift of Mary's lip in the form of a smile. Blinking hard, she turned away from the image and moved to sit across from Wyatt.

"You don't enjoy giving tours, do you?" Beth asked, letting herself look at him. It was easy to do while his eyes were closed.

"Was it that obvious?" he asked with a mocking smile.

"No, actually, you did a very good job hiding it. I've noticed that your accent has gotten much milder since the tour ended."

He laughed a rich deep sound that made Beth's toes curl. She had a feeling that he didn't do that often. "No, I don't. I live in New York but came home to help while my father and new stepmother take an extended honeymoon. We were short a tour guide, and I know the history." He shrugged.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Beth looked around, taking it all in as she wondered what it would have been like to live in such a place.

To break the tense silence, she reached into her purse and pulled out a few mints, throwing one at him.

He opened his eyes and looked at the mint where it laid on his chest. "Shouldn't we practice rationing?" he asked.

"Oh, my God! What if I have to go to the bathroom!" Beth squeaked.

They looked at each other and then both busted out laughing because what else could they do.

"Won't they miss you?" Beth asked as she popped her mint into her mouth.

"No, my father is away, and this place takes care of itself. We're here until morning," he assured her.

Beth nodded, looking around once more. "You're an only child, then?" she asked.

"So far," he responded.

"I have a twin, but we look very different. She's tall and beautiful, not like me." Beth threw it out in an offhanded way, knowing that if Mave were there, she would be making the best of the situation.

"Well, I can't say that you're tall, but you are beautiful."

Beth's eyes flew to his in shock at his statement. "You don't have to say that."

"I generally don't say things I don't mean." He pushed himself off the floor and started to pace again.

"If Mave was here..." she shook her head, her statement going unfinished.

"If Mave was here?" he encouraged.

Beth deliberated if she should answer or not. Then, realizing that she would probably never see the man again, she was truthful. "If Mave was here, she would spend the next twelve hours charming you and winning you over with her female wiles."

"Don't you have any female wiles?" he asked with disbelief as he paced.

"No," she shook her head, "I've never even been kissed." Her hand slapped over her mouth, mortified that she had told him such a thing about herself.

He stopped pacing and turned to stare at her. "You're joking?"

Beth shook her head, looking away.

Why had she said that? What would he think of her now?"

There was an awkward silence as he paced some more

"Are you getting your steps in or something!" Beth vented after about ten minutes when she couldn't take it anymore.

"No, but pacing keeps my mind centered." He crammed his hands into his pockets.

"This is going to be a long night," Beth said as she slumped to the floor.

"Fine," he said, sitting across from her once more. "Tell me more about your family."

"It's big." Beth didn't want to go into the details.

"That must be nice. All I have is my mother and father for what little good that does me." He shook his head.

"Your stepmother?" she asked.

"Only a few years older than me."

They looked at each other, the tension palpable, but Beth was at a loss as to why.

"Your favorite book?" she asked, launching them on a conversation that got them through hours. It seemed they had a lot in common with regards to their taste in movies and books. The longer they talked the more relaxed she became, as she forgot that he was a handsome man who made her selfconscious. Beth felt a connection, and she wondered if this was what it had been like for her parents who were madly in love with each other.

As the night wore on, she started to get cold, and she watched as Wyatt stood and walked across the room to a trunk. "We have a woman who works here that demonstrates how to make quilts. She has one that is almost complete." He pulled out a beautiful quilt.

"That's beautiful, the wedding ring pattern, isn't it?" Beth asked.

"Couldn't say, but it looks warm." He wrapped it around himself and sat, opening his arms and legs. "Do you trust me?" he asked as he invited her to join him. "We'll be warmer together."

"This is the part where you tell me if we take out clothes off, we will be even warmer, right?" Beth rolled her eyes.

"No, Beth. This is me offering an honest chance for us to stay warm. We still have six hours to get through. I'll be on my best behavior, I promise. After all, I wouldn't dare try anything with Grandma Mary watching us." He nodded in the direction of the photograph.

The exhibit lights were still on, and one shone directly on her photo.

Nodding, Beth stood and walked towards Wyatt, gingerly placing herself between his legs and resting her head on his shoulder and her back against his chest as he wrapped the blanket around them. She was instantly warmed to the point that she was hot.

"Better?" he asked as he adjusted them both a little.

Beth nodded, liking the way it felt to be held in his arms. She couldn't help but wonder if it always felt this way.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep," he suggested as he brushed some of her hair out of her face.

Beth nodded as he inhaled deeply, catching his scent in her nose, trying to memorize it. Eventually, she did fall asleep to be awakened by the sound of the lock turning on the door. She was still wrapped in Wyatt's arms, but as she jumped up to move, he held her fast, shaking his head.

"No, wait," he whispered against her ear.

Beth stayed still, held against him for a few more minutes, trying to memorize the feel of his arms before he nodded.

"It should be safe now?" he said.

"Don't you want to yell at them for locking us in here?" she asked as she stood and stretched.

"Maybe, but if I do, I'll leave you out of it." Wyatt stood and folded the quilt, placing it back in the trunk. "There's one more thing, but not here." He motioned her out of the cabin's door and into the green lawn between the cabins. There was a mist rolling in from the river, and the sun was just cresting over the water. It was beautiful and a sight that Beth would remember forever.

She turned to Wyatt to share it, and he pulled her close, dropping a fierce kiss on her lips, stealing her words and her breath. She could feel the hardness of his muscles and the warmth of his hands where they held her face while his thumb caressed her cheek. Beth had just started to return it when he ended it.

"You are beautiful, Beth Stevens, and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise. If only you weren't so innocent." He tucked some hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead, then turned and walked up the drive towards the house.

Beth reached up and touched her lips as if to hold the kiss there. As far as first kisses went, it had been a doozie, and she didn't think another would ever compare.

She turned towards her car and somehow managed to get back to her hotel and then home.

For weeks Beth had hoped Wyatt would contact her since she had given him her information, but he never did. He did honor his promise, though, and sent her a packet of information on Mary with a written note telling her that it had been a pleasure to meet Mary's great-granddaughter.

Only time would tell if they would ever meet again.