Destiny's Temprtress

by Janelle Taylor

  “I would consider it an honor, sir.” Shannon did not want to appear edgy or.forward, but she didn’t know how to handle this situation. This was not the time or place to be coy or aloof. She thought it best to observe his behavior, then respond instinctively.

  Bewitched by Shannon, Lieutenant Pike was not about to leave her standing there alone. His body was inflamed by desire. It was war, and perhaps he would never see her again. If only he could taste her compelling lips and embrace her just once. As she watched him with her hypnotic eyes, Pike was drawn to her. He slowly leaned forward, fearing she would reject him, hoping she would not. His mouth brushed hers tentatively. When she did not pull away, his arms eased around her and his lips claimed hers fully. He kissed her eyes, her nose, her cheeks. He murmured before taking her lips again, “Shannon, my angel, you tempt a man to sheer folly. What must I offer for your promise of marriage?” he inquired shockingly.

  Shannon wasn’t certain if she should yield briefly to distract Pike during Blane’s escape or allow Pike’s captivation to increase to aid her protection once Blane’s flight was uncovered. Whatever happened, she could use Pike’s assistance and support. Shannon returned the kiss and leaned against Pike’s chest. She heard him moan softly and felt his embrace tighten. As his kisses waxed feverish and his caresses became bold, she responded deceitfully even as she panicked.

  A thud and a grunt sounded in her ears just as Pike fell against her. As he was lowered to the ground, Shannon saw Blane’s scowling face behind him. She was not given time to react. Blane hurriedly bound and gagged Pike with items of his clothing. Shannon prayed the lieutenant wasn’t injured.

  Blane seized her hand and yanked her ear to his mouth. “I hate to interrupt, but let’s get the hell out of here. Keep quiet. Walk leisurely in case someone notices us. Maybe I’ll pass for your admirer.”

  Shannon followed Blane to where two horses were saddled and waiting. Besides a second horse and saddle, he had stolen two Confederate haversacks, blankets, two bedrolls, two jackets, and several weapons. He helped her mount before swinging agilely into his saddle. Shannon tucked her skirt beneath her and followed Blane’s lead.

  They walked the horses a short distance from camp. Blane held up his hand to halt their movements and Shannon tensed. Blane motioned for her to wait there. He dismounted and slipped into the trees. Shannon trembled, recalling the last time she had been left behind to wait. She heard voices; the guards were talking and laughing while on duty! That’s what had caught Blane’s keen ear. He would overcome them easily and quickly. Surely fate would be on their side tonight.

  The noises ceased. Soon, a grinning Blane returned and mounted. “All clear,” he whispered smugly. “But stay alert,” he added.

  When Blane felt they were a safe distance from camp, he nudged Dan into a swift gallop. Shannon did the same with her mount. They traveled rapidly for hours, having no choice but to remain on the road because of the heavy underbrush and marshy landscape. Just before dawn, Blane took a side road. They traveled another hour, then halted at an abandoned home, the elegance of which had suffered from a lack of attention and heavy looting.

  “No time to explain. Wait here. I’ll return soon,” Blane called over his shoulder, then headed into the woods.

  Shannon did as she was ordered but mentally questioned his actions. She glanced around, dismayed by the spoiled beauty of this setting. Paint was cracking or missing on the walls of the two-story mansion. Windows were filthy or broken, and doors were falling off their hinges. From what she could see, drapes and furniture had been removed, probably stolen or sold. A small balcony over the front entrance hung perilously in a futile attempt to retain its grip on the house. Faded shutters swagged at haphazard angles. This house, which had surely known grand and happy times, was a pathetic sight today.

  The yards were cluttered with weeds and overgrowth. Untrimmed bushes sprouted limbs in every direction. Rose and camellia bushes were being slowly strangled. One barn had been burned—long ago from its appearance. Other structures exposed the same kind of disrepair and abandonment as the house. She wondered what evil had befallen the owners of the house to drive them away and to keep them away.

  She could see or hear nothing that indicated human or animal life nearby, and she wondered why they were stopping here. Surely their escape had been discovered by now. Right this minute, a furious unit of Rebel soldiers would be tracking them. Why was Blane wasting such valuable time here? This dilapidated place depressed her.

  Blane appeared with another man at his side, carrying a shovel. They joined Shannon. Without words, the two men hurriedly unsaddled the horses. Blane went to the end of the porch and began digging up several bushes. When they were set aside, he pulled on the latticed covering at the base of the porch and removed it. He lifted the saddles one at a time, ducked, entered the opening, and returned empty-handed. The other man drew a bucket of water from the well and handed it to Blane. Shannon watched in confusion and silence, not wishing to slow or distract them.

  “Get in, Flame,” he commanded, pointing to the opening.

  “In there? With spiders and Lord knows what else?” she argued.

  “We don’t have much time! Do as I say, woman!” he shouted harshly and impatiently. “Those Rebs will be tearing this country apart looking for us. We’ve got to stay hidden until they pull out.”

  Shannon turned to look at the other man. Blane grabbed her arm and nearly flung her beneath the porch. He ignored her squeal of protest and surprise. “You know what to do, Jeremy.” With those words, Blane joined her in the shadowy area and sat down.

  The man called Jeremy nailed the latticed section in place, then replanted the bushes. He carefully removed all signs of disturbance. He called out, “Good luck, sir,” then vanished with the horses.

  Shannon listened as the trotting of hooves gradually subsided and all was quiet outside. As her eyes steadily adjusted to the amount of light present, she became frightened of being trapped here, by soldiers and time. She anxiously glanced around, astonished to find the dirt area clean. The saddles, weapons, and gear had been placed near the middle of this raked section. The wall beneath the house was solid brick. Under the porch section, decorative lattice work separated solid wood portions. There were just enough openings in the crisscrossed design to allow sufficient air and light to enter their new refuge. The abundance of overgrowth around the porch concealed their location without denying the needed air. The area under the steps had been boarded, sealing them in securely. Shannon could smell damp earth, but the odor was not offensive. “Wouldn’t it have been better to keep riding? We had a good lead. How long must we stay here?” she asked nervously.

  Blane was sitting Indian-style on an oilcloth groundsheet. His expression told her he wasn’t in the least worried about their safety or predicament. He took two swigs from a stolen bottle of whiskey, then grinned at her. “This is the last move they’d expect us to make. Might as well relax, Flame. We’ll stay here at least four, five, or six days. We can use the rest while they run themselves ragged. Want a sip to warm your bones?” He held out the bottle. Knowing how frightened she probably was, he was attempting to sound light and casual.

  Shannon stared at him, then wrinkled her nose. “Whiskey at nine in the morning? No thanks.” She scanned their surroundings once more. “What about food and water? And spiders,” she murmured.

  “Look over there,” he instructed, pointing to a stack of cans and the bucket of fresh water. “Jeremy steals things and leaves them here for such occasions. He’s taking the horses miles down the road and hiding them in an old barn. Even if they’re found, no one will think to search here. To be on the safe side, Jeremy won’t come around until the Rebel camp is dismantled and they move northward. Just don’t panic if those Rebs come snooping around,” he commanded, his words sounding like deep growls in his throat.

  Shannon wondered if Blane was as confident as he tried to sound and look. He had recently faced death and a beating; s
urely that had to affect a man, even someone as powerful and dauntless as Blane Stevens. Sitting on folded legs with her buttocks resting on her feet, she looked at the dirty gown and at her scuffed hands. She brushed them off against each other, then fluffed the dress. She eyed the ceiling and realized its height would allow her to stand and move around without slumping. Moreover, if there were spider webs there, she would be a comforting distance from them. The idea of being cooped up like this for days with this arresting yet often exasperating man was both unsettling and stimulating. He hadn’t even hugged her or kissed her or thanked her!

  Blane watched her and chuckled. He was intrigued by this complex vixen. “Are you really this afraid of fuzzy creatures with long legs?” he teased, taking another drink from the bottle. His body was stiff and achy, and he didn’t want her to realize how much he hurt.

  “I can’t help it. Snakes and bugs don’t bother me at all, just spiders. I suppose you aren’t afraid of anything,” she scoffed.

  “I suppose you’re right,” he mirthfully agreed. “’Course I don’t care too much for brutal lickings or dying. Or fickle women.”

  Shannon grasped his meaning. “What else was I supposed to do, raise a commotion by slapping his face or shrieking insults at him? Since he had me cornered, I figured the least I could do was distract him while my partner escaped, or generously returned to rescue me—for which I deeply thank you, sir. Would you mind explaining what happened after you clobbered me for no logical reason? I didn’t want to be too inquisitive with my gracious hosts. By the way, thanks for not breaking my jaw or teeth. I hope that tap was intentionally light.”

  Blane laughed, and the sound was mellow and rich. He had washed the blood from his face, but bruises and swelling were visible. He removed his boots and jacket, then unfastened several of his shirt buttons. He pulled his saddle over, stretched out, and propped his head on it. After he calmly related the details of the grueling episode, he told her, “I think I’ll catch a nap. Didn’t get much sleep last night. If you’re still restless, why don’t you entertain yourself by going through those haversacks and saddlebags. Might be something useful in them.” He flexed his lithe body and closed his eyes.

  “I need to doctor your injuries. They must be hurting. I’ll look for some medical supplies. You can stay awake a while longer.”

  “I’ve had worse, and they can wait. I’ll need my energy and strength when Lieutenant Pike comes charging after you. The way you stirred his blood, it won’t settle down until he finds you. That was some show you put on in the prisoner tent. I wonder if Pike realized you were flirting outrageously with your handsome captor?”

  Sometimes he was the most infuriating, arrogant male she had ever met. “Don’t make fun of me, you beast. I’ve proven my courage and obedience. You were the one who put on a show in the tent. How could you make such naughty remarks? I was mortified. If I hadn’t been afraid they would be suspicious of me after your escape, I would have been tempted to stay behind to be rid of you and your overbearing manner. If you don’t want help, just go to sleep and leave me alone.”

  She moved over to where Blane had dropped everything. Lifting one haversack, she dumped the contents into her lap. She turned her head and frowned at him when he said, “There’s a shirt and pants in one of those bags. Before I stripped him, I noticed that the sentry looked about your size. Might be more comfortable than that billowy gown. What happened to your boots and slippers?” His position didn’t change, nor did his eyes open.

  Did the man notice everything? “I thought it might look somewhat odd to be carrying my bedroll around during a stroll, so I left it in the tent. As for my boots, they were making too much noise while I was sneaking over to see if you needed any help, so I removed them. I doubted anyone I met along the way would realize I was barefoot.”

  “Me too. They would be too busy staring at that ravishing face and body. You didn’t waste any time twisting Pike around your finger. He’ll be twice as mad about your treachery and guile. I bet he’s stalking you right now.” Blane chuckled softly.

  “Since I helped you avoid a hanging this morning, surely I can depend on you to make certain he doesn’t get his eager hands on me,” she retorted. “Now be quiet and go to sleep before I punch you again.”

  “That was real effective, but it smarts on broken ribs. To get such punishment, I must have upset those Rebs by treating you so roughly.”

  Shannon corrected, “What upset the Rebs, or more accurately Major Phillips, was your spying on their camp and refusing to give him information. It didn’t help any that you humiliated him during your capture. Are you sure you’re all right, Blane? I am sorry if I hurt you, but I had to do something to get close to you.”

  “I thought you didn’t ask any questions. How did you obtain so many facts?” he queried, rolling to his stomach and looking at her.

  “Men have a way of carelessly dropping information when their thoughts are on other matters. Perhaps you should remember that when you share a pillow with a woman. Need I remind you, there is a nice way to ask me what I learned back there. Just because you were forced to surrender to save my life, you don’t have to take it out on me.”

  “Flame, would you kindly tell me what you saw and heard while I was being tortured?” he asked in an almost caressing tone.

  Shannon flashed him an annoyed smirk, but she related all she could remember. “Why didn’t you get away when they spotted you?” she asked.

  Blane was amazed by her sharp wits and keen memory. “I was surrounded. It seemed wisest to surrender until my clever partner could think of some way to get us out of our predicament.”

  “What if they hadn’t fallen for your little ruse? What if I had been placed under guard? You could have been killed.” Shannon knew Blane was hiding the truth; he could have fled without helping her. Why hadn’t he? He had warned on several occasions that he would leave her behind if she became a threat or hindrance.

  “I knew they would be stunned by your looks and charms. I had no doubt you would be safe. But in all honesty, I was surprised you took such a risk to save my hide. Frankly, our escape was almost too simple,” he murmured retrospectively. Shannon did have a curious way of getting into and out of peril. Had he been allowed to escape? Had Shannon been open and honest with him? She couldn’t possibly be a Rebel spy with him as her assignment, could she? No, Fate had merely been on their side.

  “Simple?” she echoed skeptically. “At any moment we could have been seen and shot.” Borrowing his strangely voiced words, she stated, “I was surprised you took such a risk to return for me when Pike blocked my departure. I would imagine you are exasperated with me by now.”

  “I owed you, Flame, just like you owed me. Now we’re even.”

  Shannon glanced at him. She was puzzled by his tone and look. “Are we?” she probed. No, he was still miffed at her. Why?

  “What’s in the bags?” he asked, noticeably altering their trains of thought and conversation.

  Shannon fingered the items in the first haversack. “A razor, whetstone, cloth, soap, comb, jackknife, sewing kit, Bible, change purse with seventy cents, matches, writing supplies, a mess kit, and two bank notes for ten dollars each. The second one has much the same,” she continued, having seen such belongings in the possession of most soldiers she had encountered. The essential needs were always a mess kit with cup, plate, fork, knife, spoon, and the sewing kit with buttons, needles, and thread. “He was carrying a pipe and tobacco if you care for a smoke. Let’s see,” she murmured, holding up one item after another. “A match safe, candle holder and candle, a mirror—oh…and a pen and ink and fancy writing paper. He must have a sweetheart somewhere. Ah, yes, here she is. A pretty thing,” she remarked, holding up the small portrait.

  Blane laughed heartily. “If that’s his woman, no wonder he went off to war. I’d rather face a gun than marriage to her any day.”

  “That’s mean, Blane Stevens.” Shannon lifted the cartridge box and peeked inside. T
he tin insert was filled with bullets. She examined the weapons. “At least we can defend ourselves,” she commented.

  “Those are two reasons why Georgia is so important to the Rebs. That rifle is made in Athens by the Cook & Brother Company. It’s one of the finest rifles in use now. Take that pistol; it’s made of iron rather than steel, since the South is lacking in that commodity. It comes from Spiller & Burr in Macon. The breech is covered with a brass frame to prevent the barrel from splitting when it’s fired.”

  When Blane continued to watch her, she began trembling with longing. She looked at the item in her hand. “This sounds awful, Blane, but what keeps a bayonet in place when it’s driven into a man’s body and withdrawn?” she asked, eyeing the long, sharp weapon.

  “It attaches securely to the end of a .58-caliber rifle. Once it’s shoved into place on the barrel, normal flesh doesn’t dislodge it.”

  She shuddered in revulsion and slipped the bayonet into its scabbard. He had plenty of cartridges and two large knives. She recalled the one he had placed at her throat during their first meeting. She looked inside the saddlebags. She found two shirts, a pair of pants, socks, a “butternut” jacket, long underwear, and a vest. She knew they would come in handy, as winter wasn’t far away.

  “Blane, what will we do when winter comes?” she inquired. When he didn’t answer, she looked over at him. His eyes were closed and he was breathing evenly. Shannon observed the fascinating man. She was so glad he was alive and with her at this moment. Could she ever make him care deeply for her? For now, he was enduring her presence and making use of her. But what about later, when the war ended. She thought about the times they had made love and wondered how he viewed them. Had he felt more than simple enjoyment?

  She quietly replaced the items and weapons. Taking an extra blanket, she spread it out and lay down. There was nothing else to do, and she was tired. A surge of loneliness and anguish shot through her. Grief joined those plaguing emotions. She had tried to close out thoughts of her family and home. But this location had brought them all back. She remembered hiding beneath the porch with Hawke long ago. Now he was gone, and her father was gone, and Temple was gone, and perhaps Corry was gone. Why? This wasn’t their war, their problems.