“We have to keep this from Papa.” Mr. Grady hadn’t taken the musket with him to the barn. Her old man could come out here and shoot him at any time.
“We can, for now. If that is what you wish, Miss Carpenter.”
Sophia exhaled. “That is what I want,” she said, shifting her weight. If they were going to court, they needed to know more about each other. One question had been plaguing her since the evening she’d sewn up his leg. “I’d like to know about the battle.”
His eyebrows knitted together and he leaned back. “What would you like to know? War isn’t a ladylike subject.”
She didn’t care whether it was proper or not. Papa had never treated her like a lady. “How did you get shot?”
“Charging the Yankees,” he replied, a playful undertone to his voice.
She’d learned he wasn’t much of a talker, but she wanted a better answer than that. Maybe she should start with a more direct question. “What regiment are you from?”
“The 4th Georgia Infantry.”
Good. I can work off that. “So you’re from Georgia, then?”
“No, miss. Tennessee. But I transferred here.”
“Oh. All right, but why did you end up on my doorstep instead of with your regiment?”
“Not much left of the Fighting Fourth, miss,” he replied curtly. Color drained from his face, and a haunted look filled his eyes.
She swallowed hard. It had been wrong to bring up the difficult subject now. They’d talk more about this later, when he was ready.
“I understand,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“One good thing came out of that battle,” he said, his gaze lifting to hers. “I met you.”
Her heart flipped. Yes, she was Cinderella, and he was the nobleman coming to her rescue. Talk like that would charm her silly. Already she had a hard time keeping him off her mind, continually pausing in the middle of working in the garden to glance over at the barn.
One thing continued to bother her though. He seemed to be holding something back. Why hide something unless you were ashamed or worried or afraid? Maybe all three. Except Mr. Grady didn’t seem the type of man to do something wrong—always acting the perfect gentleman. “Mr. Grady, seeing as how we’re courting, I think it would be all right if you called me Sophia.”
Mr. Grady grinned; his eyes no longer looked haunted. “In private, of course, Sophia,” he said. “And you may call me Lucas.”
“I look forward to getting to know you better, Lucas.” She had so many questions. Hopefully their next conversation would be smoother. This one had been as bumpy as a toad’s back.
When the clock struck twelve, would her dream come true or fade away?
Chapter Five
Sophia deserved the truth, Lucas scolded himself. If she suspected he’d deserted, she hadn’t said anything. Being so sweet, it probably hadn’t crossed her mind.
He didn’t want to break her rose-colored glasses. Many times he’d told himself he should tell her he’d deserted, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Would she understand? Her whole face had glowed when he’d asked permission to court her. The combination of love and hope in her expression had infused him with warmth. She’d been dreaming of leaving this farm. Did she view him as her knight in shining armor? The way she acted, he had a feeling she saw him as something special, but really he was just a man. Once she learned of his tarnished armor, would she still want to court him?
With a homemade crutch under his right arm, Lucas hobbled around the length of the barn, exercising to build up strength. The damn musket ball had torn through his muscle.
Sophia needed help in the garden and getting some game. Dropping his crutch, he pushed himself to walk without it. Pain engulfed his leg, but he maintained his balance, fighting through the ache with gritted teeth. He hadn’t realized he hadn’t been putting his full weight on his wounded leg.
He had more work to do than he thought. Damn it.
Sophia needed him now. And he’d been in the barn so long, it felt like the small building was closing in on him; he couldn’t stay inside much longer. Picking up his crutch again, he ventured outside. Blinking, he adjusted to the midday light.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Sophia’s voice rang out. Straightening, she shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun.
Lucas stopped and challenged her with a friendly stare of his own. Would she insist he return to the barn? “I was starting to feel like I was in a jail cell, miss.”
“Oh.” Pink stained her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought about that.” Her voice softened, no longer sounding like a mama lecturing a child.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” He leaned heavier on his good leg and tilted his head. “I feel kind of worthless.”
“Oh don’t say that!” Sophia walked over to him while holding a bucket of beans. “You can snap beans for me. We’ll have them with supper later.” Setting the bucket down at his feet, she smiled. “That should keep you busy for quite a while.”
She hadn’t bothered to unhook the back hem of her skirt where she’d pulled it up between her legs, and hooked it over her apron. The slight impropriety of showing off her ankles made his core thrum. He wanted to see more than just her ankles and her bare feet covered with mud from the previous night’s rain.
“I’ll get you a pan to put the snapped beans in.” She stepped into a pan of water before heading into the house.
Lucas picked up the nearly full bucket, his arm muscles flexing. Slowly, he worked his way to the porch step, easing himself down. At least he could pass an hour—an hour where he could look up and see Sophia every minute.
“Here you go,” she said, handing him a pan. “I hope that helps with your cabin fever.”
“Yes, miss. I think it will.” Although, seeing her across the yard, hem of her dress pulled up, would give him a different fever.
Mr. Carpenter stepped out onto the porch. Lucas smelled the alcohol and he hadn’t even opened his mouth. It must be exuding from his pores. Finally noticing Lucas, Mr. Carpenter scowled, wicked lines etching across his forehead.
“What are you doing here?” he growled.
Lucas motioned to the bucket and bit back the sarcastic remark what does it look like? “Snapping beans, sir. It isn’t right for Sophia to do all the work around here.”
The old man grunted. “Keeps the girl out of trouble.”
Lucas picked up a large bean and broke it in two, wishing it was Mr. Carpenter’s arm instead. “Well, with me staying here and all,” he said, trying to smooth out the ire in his voice, “I only feel it is right if I start doing some chores to help out.”
“Snapping beans is woman’s work.”
Lucas’s hand wanted to fold into a fist so he forced his fingers to flex. “Hoeing and weeding is man’s work.”
“Her mama was sickly. Keeps the girl strong and healthy.”
Girl. His daughter had a name. “Sophia keeps this farm producing, no thanks to you.”
Mr. Carpenter snarled. “What did you say?”
Lucas pushed himself to his feet and pointed to the garden. “How come you’re not out there weeding?”
“No, not that. You called her by name.”
“Yes, sir. I did. You seem to forget she has one.”
“And when did you get so friendly with my daughter?”
“I haven’t gotten friendly with your daughter. But she has told me her name. I see no harm in that.”
The drunk grunted. “That’s for me to decide.” His face turned crimson and his attention fixed on the garden. “Sophia!” he hollered.
Sophia stopped hoeing. “Yes, Papa?”
“Get over here now!”
“No need to shout. I’m not deaf.” Walking over to them, she brought the hoe with her.
Had that been on purpose? Did she figure she needed protection from her old man? He sure looked mean enough to hurt her good. Lucas’s hand itched to fold into a fist and this time he allowe
d his fingers to close. His leg might be a little gimpy, but he could pack a punch.
Mr. Carpenter wasn’t going to hurt her.
“What has you riled, Papa?”
The old man’s jaw tensed and fire burned in his eyes. “You whoring with this man?” he said in a rough rumble, his head tilted toward Lucas.
Sophia dropped the hoe and her mouth gaped. “No, Papa! Heaven sakes what made you think that?”
“He called you by your first name. Since when did you two get so acquainted?”
Sophia put her hands on her hips. “Calling me by my first name is hardly a crime. He’s been here for three weeks. I figured it was time.”
“You sure it ain’t more than that? I’ve seen you go to the barn to see him. Don’t lie to me, girl.” His voice, a gruff grumble, knotted Grady’s stomach.
“I’m not lying, Papa,” Sophia insisted. “I only go to the barn to bring him his meals.”
“You stay longer.”
“Yes, sometimes I eat with him, but that is all.”
“Keeping him company.” Mr. Carpenter advanced toward her. “I’ll have no more of that.” He slapped her across the face.
She braved his glare, unblinking.
“You’ll eat with me where I can keep an eye on you. Now get inside and fix us dinner.”
“It will just be turnip stew.”
“That again? That stuff isn’t fit for a hog.” His hand clamped down on her arm, making her wince. “Don’t you know how to make anything else, girl?”
“There are only so many dishes you can make out of vegetables, Papa,” she said, her voice pinched, strained.
“Let go of her arm!” Lucas shouted.
“I have the right to treat my daughter however I damn well please.”
“No, you don’t.” Lucas struck Mr. Carpenter in the face.
The old man reeled backward, blood spurting out his nose. His left hand flew to his injury. “Why you,” he growled, his voice muffled through his fingers.
“You need to treat your daughter with respect,” Lucas said. Rolling up his sleeves, he’d take this fight seriously, eager to teach Mr. Carpenter a painful lesson.
The drunk swung at him and Lucas ducked. The older man’s meaty fist aimed lower this time, the blow digging into his stomach.
Lucas gasped for air, ignoring the ache.
Stepping back, he swung again, making contact with Mr. Carpenter’s jaw, snapping his head to the side.
Mr. Carpenter’s teeth rattled and he spat in the grass. Straightening, he tried to hit Lucas with an uppercut.
Lucas managed to move out of the way.
“You’re nothing but a coward. You can throw a punch, but you’re afraid to take one.”
“I am not a coward!” Lucas shouted.
The old man sneered. “Then why ain’t you fighting the Yankees?”
Lucas bit his lip. Momentarily stunned by the comment, Mr. Carpenter landed a solid punch to his cheek.
“Caught you off guard because you know it’s true.” Mr. Carpenter fired his words with the same force as his fists.
The next hard blow sent Lucas off balance and crashing to the ground. The drunk bent over him, grabbing his coat collar. “If you’re well enough to fight me, you’re well enough to go back to the front.”
“I’m still healing,” Lucas said through gritted teeth. He reached for Mr. Carpenter’s eyes and forced the man to let go of his coat.
“Still healing, my ass.” The old man laughed. “You should go back to your regiment and leave my daughter alone.”
“I will, in good time.” Lucas pushed himself to his feet, shooting a look at Sophia who seemed rapt at the fight. Maybe she’d ignored her papa’s accusations. He needed to stop this fight before Mr. Carpenter made a bigger issue out of his cowardice.
At least he hadn’t used the D word.
Lucas struck Mr. Carpenter in the throat and his eyes doubled in size. Staggering backward, he grabbed his windpipe as if he could massage in air. Tears emerged at the corners of his eyes and he finally bent over, head between his legs.
He stopped, not wanting to be too rough on the old man even though he deserved it. He was Sophia’s father.
Lucas straightened and glared at the old man, trying his hardest to turn him to ash. “I’m going into town. Don’t be here when I get back.”
Sophia watched Papa gallop down the road to town on the old nag. Warmth rushed through her body and her heart thrummed. Her gallant soldier had come to her rescue. He’d fought for her. Even with a hurt leg, he’d whipped Papa. The old man finally got what he deserved, a taste of the medicine she’d been forced to swallow for years.
But what would Papa do now? Dread replaced the thrill racing through her veins and the air thickened. “I hope he doesn’t lose his head and get the law on you.”
Grady rubbed his jaw, his attention still on the road where Papa disappeared. “Me, too.”
“Of course, Papa doesn’t cotton much with the law,” Sophia said in an upbeat tone. Her attempt at cheering herself up wasn’t working. Papa would make Mr. Grady pay. Somehow. He wouldn’t take his licking well.
Drawing a deep breath, she willed away the ache in her breast. Don’t worry about that now. Stepping closer to him, she inhaled his masculine scent of sweat and dirt and hay. It was so refreshing to be around a man without the stink of liquor on him. She ran her hand down his arm, feeling his lean muscle under his uniform.
“Thank you, Lucas.”
“No need to thank me.” He looked down at her with gentle eyes. “Any man would have done the same.”
She turned to completely face him. This close, his heart still pounded fast and his breath warmed her face. She tipped her head back, and her lips rose to meet his. Their mouths brushed in a chaste kiss. She didn’t know which one of them was holding back. Their touch kindled a fire in her belly. Her cheeks burned, bringing on a foolish grin. The lust in his eyes, as plain as the noonday sun, fanned the flames of her desire. He wanted her.
“Sophia,” Lucas said, “since your papa isn’t here, think we can eat at the table?”
The simple question cut through the sexual tension. “Yes, I reckon we can.”
Lucas hovered near her in the kitchen. She wasn’t used to anyone watching her cook, or watching her that carefully at all for that matter. Her heart palpitated. His heat-filled gaze bored into her backside. Her thighs clenched and she struggled to focus on stirring the stew. When you have feelings for a man, it is supposed to feel like this. Charlotte had explained her feelings toward Thomas, and Lucas made Sophia feel the same way.
Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer and turned around to face him. He leaned near her, their lips perilously close again. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, away from the stove. Her chest pressed against his and their connection grew stronger. He claimed her lips, harder this time. Shutting her eyes, she mewled. His lips roamed down her neck and then back to her mouth, acting like he couldn’t kiss her enough. Did she taste as good as he did?
He caressed her back. It was wrong for him to touch her like that, she should tell him to stop, it wasn’t right, but she couldn’t. Damn propriety, she wanted him. When he grabbed her bottom, her eyes shot open. He pressed her against him, grinding their pelvises together.
“Do you feel what you do to me, Sophia?” he asked in a husky voice.
His arousal pressed hard into her skirts and her mound moistened. “Yes,” she breathed.
How long would they have to court before they got married? This felt so good. She couldn’t wait to actually make love with him. How long would Lucas be able to stay with them? Surely he was bound to rejoin his regiment soon. Lucas would have to leave when Papa got back, if he didn’t go before.
He continued to press her against him until they were both panting. She wanted more but didn’t dare ask. Despite her longing to know what lovemaking was like, she wasn’t a whore like Papa implied. Suddenly Lucas pushed away from her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, missing the heat of his body, the strength and tenderness in his touch.
“Your stew’s smoking.”
She blinked and the fog cleared in her brain. Her stew was burning. The stench of overcooked turnips filled the room.
“Oh no!” So much for a good meal. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” he said, grinning. “Don’t worry, burnt turnip stew will still be better than army cooking.”
Surely he was lying, but she wasn’t about to argue. “I’ll salvage this and then make us some chicory coffee.”
Lucas limped over to the hallway. Looking over his shoulder, he flashed her a smile. “I’ll be waiting, Miss Sophia.” He licked his lips slowly and she had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the stew.
Chapter Six
Sophia paced the sitting room. The hours without Papa had been pleasant and she’d passed the time with Lucas easily, almost as if they’d known each other for years. It surprised and thrilled her to feel such a strong connection after such a short time.
Shaking her head, she scolded herself. She shouldn’t be thinking about Lucas. Time had flown by, the sky now black and dotted with stars. Where was Papa? Had something happened to him? He probably ran the horse to death. Would he walk back to the house or find a place to stay in town?
Her footsteps echoed—another reminder she was alone. Lucas had returned to the barn, not wanting to be in the house when Papa returned. Now she wished she could feel his arms wrapped around her again, holding her close. The sense of loneliness hung so strong in the air, she shuddered. Wringing her hands in her apron, she glanced at the clock.
Her stomach grumbled, and she touched her middle. Suppertime had long passed. She should cook Lucas and herself something to eat. Men were always hungry.
Hopefully Papa found a decent meal. She didn’t want any ill to come to him being the only kin she had.
A knock sounded at the door and Sophia jumped. Papa wouldn’t bother knocking. Who would call at this hour?
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