Tossing and turning in bed, she strove to push all thoughts of the incident from her head. It had been an act of simple lust, nothing more—lust brought on by intoxication, and hunger, and fatigue. Why or how she could have behaved that way, she could not understand. But it was over with now…over and done. She had to forget it ever happened. As Hunter had obviously done.
Giving up on sleep, Andrea crawled from her bed a little before dawn. Tiptoeing down the steps, she hurried out the door, and gasped at three shadowy figures standing on the porch talking in low, hushed tones.
Colonel Hunter, Major Carter, and Captain Pierce seemed to be in the middle of a very important council of war. At the sound of her approach, all three heads jerked around at once. When they recognized who she was, all three removed hats in unison.
“Mornin’, Miss Evans.” Carter was the first to find his tongue.
“Major Carter.” Andrea nodded. “Captain Pierce.” She looked the latter in the eye, but Pierce quickly averted his gaze. As for Colonel Hunter, she did not say his name or acknowledge his presence.
“I-I couldn’t sleep. I regret the intrusion.” Without pausing, she continued on her way.
In a matter of moments, Andrea inhaled the soothing scent of the barn, and the violent pounding of her heart began to ease. She followed the sound of banging buckets to find Zach preparing the horses’ feed. “Good morning.”
“Morning, Miz Andrea,” he replied with a large smile.
When she turned back around to visit Justus, she nearly ran into Captain Pierce.
“Colonel sent me down to get a fresh horse,” he said to Zach, ignoring Andrea. “Mine seems to have picked up a stone. Be quick about it.”
Zach disappeared to retrieve a horse, and Pierce turned back to begin unsaddling the mare that stood in the aisle. Andrea watched his blank mien for a few moments. “Are you trying to ignore me?”
“No.” He tugged at the cinch. “Just following orders.”
“Orders?”
“The Colonel seems to think it’s in your best interest if I don’t converse with you.”
Andrea took a step toward him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Seems to think you need protection.”
“Protection?” Andrea forced a laugh. “From what?”
Pierce lifted the saddle from the mare’s back and placed it on the gelding Zach brought forward. “From me, apparently.” He reached under the animal for the cinch.
“You jest.” Andrea removed the bridle from his lame horse with expert hands and handed it to Zach.
“No. I don’t.” Pierce watched with apparent interest her casual and relaxed interaction with his horse and the practiced way she handled the bridle.
“Then you must have misunderstood.”
“There was no misunderstanding.” Pierce mounted and then bent down, his face almost even with Andrea’s as he pretended to adjust his stirrup. “Perhaps he believes I find you intoxicating and would not be able to perform my duties as a soldier with you in my blood.”
Andrea’s heart thumped as his deep, passionate gaze swept over her. But the suggestion he offered stirred no pulse of desire in her, only a slow building of anger.
“In any event,” Pierce cleared his throat and straightened, “I’m a soldier first and remain obedient to the Commander. I fear any further discussions on the subject will have to be with him.”
He tipped his hat, devoured her with his gaze in such a way that let her know he did not concur with Hunter’s wishes, and urged his horse forward, leaving Andrea standing in the barn, both hands clenched in fists.
* * *
Hunter heard the crowing of a lazy rooster as he started out the door. With his head bent over the task of pulling on his gloves, he did not see Andrea making her way back from the barn. In fact, he almost strode right past her until he stopped on the steps and looked up.
“Andrea.” The image of green eyes blazing in firelight appeared in his mind unbidden. She stared straight ahead, making it obvious the memory of what transpired in the cabin had not deserted her mind either.
“Wait.” He touched her arm, but withdrew it when she flinched. “Andrea, if there is something I have said or done, or failed to do or say…I mean, it was not my intention to offend you—”
Andrea interrupted him in such a calm, determined voice that it instantly struck at his heart. “Offend me? Sir, you forget. I have spent enough time in the exclusive company of men to understand their motives.” Her voice betrayed no pain, though her eyes did, noticeably.
Hunter winced at the thought of the many indelicate conversations she must have heard among soldiers in the gleam of campfire light. But for a moment he tried to divine her meaning. “My motives?”
“The conquest.” Andrea assumed an air of indifference she obviously did not feel. “It’s the thrill of the hunt that enthralls men such as you, isn’t it?”
She was apparently trying to make the matter sound trivial, but Hunter could see she was so angry—or hurt—she trembled. He reached out for her hand, but she evaded the move.
“No, Andrea. I fear I’ve bungled badly something that…that—” He struggled for the right words. She stood on the top step, he two steps down, just where they had been two days earlier when he had stared into laughing, happy eyes. Today he could not look directly into them, so agonized and distrustful was her gaze.
“Andrea, you don’t understand.”
“Oh, I believe I understand perfectly.” Andrea drew her arm away when he reached toward it. “I’m that willful spirit which you doubtless longed to break, and certainly not the first to become a woman at the hands of—” She took a deep, gasping breath and shook her head impatiently as if losing her train of thought. “I mean, to be conquered by the gallant Colonel Hunter.”
Hunter noticed she no longer trembled. She visibly shook. Even her teeth chattered as though bitterly cold. The strong, unwavering Andrea stood quivering from head to toe and, for once, showed no signs of being able to rally her spirit. He imagined her heart beating like the wings of a caged bird, thrashing and bruising itself against the bars.
“Andrea, please listen to me.”
“And now I have caused a rift with one of your officers.” She wrung her hands, staring out over his shoulder again. “I rather thought, Colonel…” She stopped to catch her breath. It was as if she was sobbing, yet there were no tears. “I rather thought that sharing the spoils of war was a key component of your Command.”
“Andrea, you must calm down.” Hunter took both of her arms and held them by her side. “Stop talking like this. Listen to reason!”
“I would have expected as much from Captain Pierce, whose motives were clear to me from the moment I met him.” She looked Hunter in the eye now, staring through him with a half-crazed expression.
“Andrea, you don’t understand. Pierce is a volatile man. If he found out who you really are—”
“I’m not ashamed of my allegiance!” She struggled from his grasp again. “For if I were to be shot by him or held in his arms, I’d be grateful for the former and sickened by the latter.”
After taking a deep, shaky breath, Andrea seemed to will herself to calmness. “Perhaps you can withdraw your offensive order from Captain Pierce, sir. He is not the one from whom I need protection.”
She tried to turn and leave, but Hunter stepped in front of her. “Andrea, you must know, it was not my intention to—”
Andrea held up her hand. “I understand, Colonel, that these matters are inconsequential, more so for a man than a woman. Such things will naturally sit more lightly on your conscience than they do on mine.”
“I did not mean to imply it was inconsequential! You are misconstruing my words.” Hunter suppressed the urge to drag her into his arms, because it appeared to him she would crumble to dust and blow away if he but touched her. “Andrea, I don’t have time now, but—”
He gave his horse a hurried glance. H
is men were already gathering. Stern duty demanded his prompt return to them.
“Yes, of course. If duty requires you to leave, then leave you must.”
“Andrea, I need to talk to you.”
“No. No need to talk.” She stared straight ahead, her face white with restrained emotion, her whole appearance one of misery.
“I swear to you on my brother’s grave I never meant to hurt you.”
“Oh, yes. I almost forgot about that matter of the promise.” Andrea laughed without smiling. “No doubt a distasteful obligation for you. But it is ironic that a promise is the only reason I am here, isn’t it? A promise to allow no harm to befall me at that.” Her voice turned to a mere whisper. “Tell me, Colonel, do you consider that promise kept?”
She gazed deep into his eyes, and the look on her face told him that she did not. He bowed his head at her words, could no longer bear the pain in her voice.
Her next words were barely audible, with such heartbreaking emotion were they spoken. “I told you before I was willing to give my life…but, please…leave me with my honor.”
Hunter looked at her hard, then wished he had not. He saw her very soul in her eyes and it wept—even if she did not. All of the pain in her life had resurfaced into one gaping wound she disappeared into, and there was no reaching her in this abyss.
“Andrea. Please listen to reason.”
“Truly, Colonel, I accept the situation. It is I who construed a mere truce into a. . .into a sacred claim.”
“It was not just a truce!” Hunter grabbed her arms and held them to her side. “Andrea, what must I say to make you understand?”
“Say nothing! I want nothing to do with you!”
“If I have to lock you in your room, young lady, I will make you listen to me.”
“Do not threaten me.” Her voice was calm, though she still stared into his eyes with an unnerving, unnatural look.
“Andrea, please. This is too complicated to discuss right now. But I—”
Hunter paused, unable to decide on a course of action. He had hoped to ask her to become his wife, to make things right with the night they had shared. But he did not dare. Not now. She would not believe his words of devotion. Her emotions ran too deep for that.
In that moment’s hesitation, when he did not know what to do or say, Andrea struggled free from his grasp, and half-ran, half-stumbled to the door.
“Andrea, wait! We need to talk. Don’t walk away from me. I forbid it!”
Andrea turned slightly and gave him one pitiful backward glance of hopeless pain and fury before rallying her spirit enough to speak in customary defiance of his power. “Do not dare give an order to me.” Her eyes blazed with that old foe, hate. “You forget. I am the enemy!”
Chapter 70
It is faith that saves, distrust that most quickly destroys.
– From Jest to Earnest, E.P. Roe
Hunter paced in his library, his hands clenched, his face red with anger. After returning from the field, he’d discovered Andrea was nowhere to be found. Izzie had been forced to admit that she may have seen her go “for a carriage ride” with John Paul hours earlier.
Was this her way of exacting revenge on him? His heart lurched at the thought. She had no way of knowing he would return so soon. Even he had not known that the cry of alarm that roused him this morning was a false one.
But he could not push from his memory the image of her flirtatious banter with John Paul during the luncheon at Hawthorne. His anger swelled when he recalled the looks John Paul had thrown her—and the ones she had skillfully returned.
The sound of carriage wheels interrupted his thoughts, soon followed by the soft tap of Andrea’s cane coming up the porch steps.
Hunter strode from the library and waited for her by the stairs. Unconscious of observation, she brushed her disheveled hair back as she walked across the foyer, her eyes cast downward. Even in her tousled appearance she radiated a glow of beauty and natural innocence. The sight of her made his heart flutter, and the thought of her with John Paul caused his blood to surge with jealousy.
The closer she got, the more his anger swelled. “Welcome back, Miss Evans,” he said. “It appears you had an errand that took you away from Hawthorne.”
Andrea lifted her head, obviously surprised at his presence. Yet she stood and looked him calmly in the eye. “I hope you did not return in haste so we could resume our earlier conversation.” She tried to push past him.
Hunter grabbed her by the arm and blurted out the first thing that entered his mind, fully expecting a fight. “Are you intentionally following in Elizabeth’s footsteps, Miss Evans? Or does lust for my neighbor fall under the category of vengeance?”
Andrea blinked repeatedly, as if his words were a hard slap to the face, but otherwise she did not move or even appear to breathe. Instead of pulling away in anger or rebellion, she looked up at him with eyes that reflected surprise, then disbelief, and then a deep hurt, as if he had physically assaulted her. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
The silence for a few long moments remained oppressive, her thoughts apparently too deep for human utterance. “Once again you dishonor me, sir,” was all she said before wrenching her arm free from his grasp.
Hunter looked in wonderment at her blank, detached expression, and then into the eyes that stared up at him still. His heart welled with pity at what he saw there—for he could have sworn, before she turned away, that a tear had overflowed the rim and trickled down her cheek.
Hunter felt a crushing blow to his chest at the deep hurt reflected in those misty eyes. “My parents did not like tears,” she’d told him. Indeed no amount of physical agony, fear, or memories from her past had been sufficiently painful to draw that dampness before. He had never witnessed a single one—not even upon Daniel’s or Johnny’s death—until now.
The grief she had pent up in her heart for so long had finally been wrung from her soul by his own accursed words.
“Wait. Andrea, I—”
A loud knock on the door interrupted him. By the time he yelled impatiently for the courier to enter and turned back, she had disappeared up the stairs.
“It’s important, sir,” the courier said.
Hunter tore open the dispatch. Blast it! The Yankees were heading toward town. The chance of two false reports in one day was slim.
Hunter ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. He needed to apologize before he left. It could not wait. Knocking once on her door, he burst in and found the room empty. She must have anticipated his move and gone straight down the back staircase.
Hurrying back downstairs and outside, he made a quick sweep of the gardens and the pasture where Justus stood. She was not there.
“Saddle Dixie,” he yelled to Zach, while looking down toward the pond. A sudden movement on the hill caught his eye.
There he saw her, kneeling in front of Daniel’s grave, her head bowed, her shoulders drooping. She placed her hand on the tombstone, and leaned her head on her hand. The scene tore at his soul, and made him regret the pain he had caused her. How could he tell her how much he respected her? Honored her?
How could he get through to her—and should he even try? Perhaps it was Daniel for whom her thoughts would ever be.
Oh, Andrea. If by forfeiting my life I could place him back in your arms, how quickly and willingly would the exchange be made!
Hunter turned away. He had a duty to perform. He did not look back. He could not.
Chapter 71
When you betray somebody else, you also betray yourself.
– Isaac Bashevis Singer
The sound of a horse galloping at breakneck speed broke the silence in Andrea’s chamber. She sat on the bed with trembling hands and closed her eyes in anticipation of what was to come. Within moments she heard the loud clank of spurs, and then his voice outside her door.
“Andrea, we need to talk.” The doorknob jiggled, and
then Hunter pounded the wooden barrier with his fist. “Confound it, Andrea! I’m going to take care of my horse, and when I return, this door had better be unlocked—or I’m coming through!”
His fist—or his head—hit the door in exasperation one last time before his spurs retreated down the hall. Andrea heard him pause at the stairway, as if looking back, but then his footsteps faded away.
Even after the passage of two days, Andrea was too ashamed to face him. She’d decided that her only choice was to leave Hawthorne. For two days she’d been convincing herself of the necessity of that action; for two days she’d put it off.
Gazing out the window at the beautiful vista she’d grown to love, her eyes fell upon a group of superbly mounted Confederate officers riding up the drive at a brisk trot. Hunter walked toward the horsemen, a look of surprise and annoyance clearly visible upon his countenance.
After greeting Hunter with formal stiffness, the entire entourage moved toward the house. Andrea sat down on the bed, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. She would have a slightly longer reprieve than expected.
Rocking back and forth in nervous contemplation of her next move, Andrea found her thoughts interrupted by the sound of voices below. When she stood and walked toward the fireplace, the voices grew even louder. Realizing the visitors had been taken to the parlor beneath her, she knelt by the hearth.
“We need that train, the gold, and the payroll, Colonel Hunter,” a loud voice said. Andrea matched it in her mind with a heavily bearded colonel she had seen outside.
“Supplies are in dire shape,” another replied. “It’s imperative we get that shipment.”
“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I’ve received word of a wagon train of medical supplies expected to go through around the same time.” Hunter sounded none too polite. “Considering the scarcity of medicine and the suffering of our wounded, I find that a more reasonable prize.”
Honor Bound (Shades of Gray Civil War Serial Trilogy Volume II) Page 33
