Love, Come to Me

by Lisa Kleypas

“I surrender. Your turn,” David said to Daniel, who chuckled and took the rifle.

  Pausing to fill the empty chamber with another rimfire cartridge, Daniel glanced in Lucy’s direction and saw the two young women sitting on a large boulder. Lucy gave him an impish little wave and arranged her skirts as she settled further up on the flat-topped rock.

  “You’re the luckiest woman in the world,” Sally whispered. “Daniel adores you. And he’s so gentlemanly and handsome—”

  “Yes, he is,” Lucy said, her eyes resting on Daniel’s dark hair and wiry form. He had the lean, slim build of an aristocrat, and his hands were beautiful and sensitive as he lifted the rifle and held it. Gently he pulled the trigger. One shot, and the first tin can jumped off of the log. Two, three, four—the next cans were picked off in rapid succession. Five. Six, seven. Daniel had hit them all flawlessly. They all cheered and whistled while Daniel smiled modestly and looked over at Lucy. She clapped her hands in delight, her face glowing.

  “Now I want a chance!” Hiram Damon, a towheaded boy of seventeen, declared, causing the group to chuckle indulgently. Hiram had been too young to fight in the war, a fact he was forever lamenting.

  “All right, Hiram, you’ve got a chance now,” Daniel said, overseeing the process of loading the rifle as the boy fumbled inexpertly with the new cartridges.

  “Bet a quarter he can’t hit more than one,” someone said.

  “I’ll bet a quarter he can,” Daniel replied, giving Hiram a firm pat on the back. “Aim a hair to the left, Hiram, and take your time.”

  “Daniel’s going to make a good father,” Sally whispered. “He’s so good with children.”

  Laboriously Hiram aimed and fired, managing to hit two of the cans. Sally and Lucy applauded loudly, even daring to give unladylike whistles.

  “Anyone care to take me on?” Daniel asked. “I’ll take a disadvantage to even things up. I’ll stand back farther, or—”

  “Put a blindfold on him,” Sally suggested, and they all cheered.

  “I’m feeling lucky today,” David Fraser said amid the noise and laughter. “I’ll take you on, Daniel, if you let me stay here and you go back to two hundred yards.”

  “I’ll give a quarter to anyone who can beat him!” Sally declared loudly.

  “And what’ll you pledge, Lucy?” Daniel asked, his mustache lifting up at the corners as he smiled at her.

  “A kiss to the winner,” she said, and the whole group laughed, because they all knew that Daniel always won.

  “Now that is an interesting offer.” A new voice entered the conversation. Everyone looked to the right, where Heath Rayne half-leaned, half-sat on a slanting boulder. His drawl was soft but pronounced as he added, “This competition open to anyone?”

  Lucy felt her cheeks go cold. She looked down at her hands and clenched her fingers together while Sally murmured, “That Southerner’s asking for it.”

  “You should spare yourself the trouble, Mr. Rayne,” Daniel said stiffly, all the warmth and enjoyment fading from his expression. “I was a sharpshooter—as more than a few Johnny Rebs can testify.”

  Heath’s glinting eyes were startling against the background of the golden meadow as he smiled, seemingly unperturbed by the taunt. “Fine. I’ll watch. Don’t let me disturb you.”

  But he had disturbed the afternoon, and they all knew it. The shooting match, which had been filled with a spirit of lighthearted fun, had taken on the atmosphere of a battlefield.

  “No. Join us. Please,” Daniel invited, his face twisted with an expression of bitterness that was entirely unfamiliar to Lucy.

  “Don’t do it,” Lucy whispered, even as David handed over the gun to Daniel and backed away respectfully. Now the group of men, which had been so boisterous and friendly, was quiet, watchful, eager, and tense. Lucy wasn’t aware that she had taken Sally’s arm, or that her fingers were biting down into it, until Sally jerked it away with a squeak and looked at her reproachfully. Lucy, her face white, was too absorbed in the scene before them to apologize. She couldn’t believe Heath had dared Daniel so boldly, and that Daniel had decided to take him up on it.

  “Practice shots?” Daniel asked Heath with overdone politeness.

  “No, thanks.”

  The cans were set up as Daniel loaded the rifle and glanced over at Heath. “You know how to handle a Spencer? It’s quite different from the muzzle-loaders you Rebs are used to.” Spencer rifles were more modern than anything the Confederates had been able to use, so modern and fast that the federal ordnance men had been afraid the Union troops would waste ammunition by firing too quickly and not taking careful aim.

  “I think I can manage.” Heath stood up and walked over to the spot where they had been shooting from, his eyes narrowing as they focused on the row of tin cans. “Why don’t we take it back to two hundred,” he suggested, causing them all to murmur amongst themselves. Whatever else could be said about the Confederate, he didn’t lack brass.

  With low exclamations, the group backed up several paces, so that Lucy and Sally found themselves almost in the middle of the gathering. Some of the men braced their hands against the boulder and leaned against it as they watched. Lucy sat with every muscle clenched as Daniel raised the rifle and took aim. His back was rigid and set tightly as he pulled the trigger. Shot after shot, he hit every can, making them bounce off the log cleanly. When he was through, they all released their breaths and congratulated him warmly, more than a little amazed at his skill.

  Lucy was torn between a sensation of pride on Daniel’s account and a feeling of pity for Heath. There was no one who could shoot as well as Daniel, and Heath had just set himself up to look like a fool in front of the group. She wished that she wasn’t here to watch, and a feeling of protectiveness surged through her as she watched Heath take the reloaded Spencer and run his fingers lightly over the butt of the gun. Why did he feel obligated to take the world on alone?

  His feet splayed apart slightly as he turned his left shoulder towards the fallen log and lifted the rifle. Lucy was surprised by the looseness of his posture. He looked as if he weren’t taking any of this seriously. She was startled by the sound of the first shot—he had barely taken time to aim! The sharp cracks of the rifle sounded off so quickly that Lucy wondered how the gun was keeping up with him. After the seventh shot Heath turned his head and looked at Lucy, their eyes locking in a lightning-hot stare.

  “Holy Jesus,” Lucy heard someone whisper, and with an effort she tore her eyes away to look at the log. All the cans had been knocked off. There was dead silence in the meadow.

  “A tie,” Lucy said, so unnerved by the incredible demonstration that her voice wavered.

  Heath’s eyes hadn’t moved from her face. “Does that mean we both get a kiss?” he asked interestedly, and Lucy wondered where he got his nerve from.

  “It means neither of you do,” she replied, wishing that she could give him a piece of her mind for putting her and Daniel through this.

  “It means the contest isn’t over,” Daniel snapped. “We’ll take it back to 225. First one who misses loses.”

  In the next few seconds there was a great deal of scurrying. The battered cans were set up once again; the Spencer was loaded. Shot after shot rang through the meadow as Daniel hit all of the cans. His brown eyes were alight with cold satisfaction.

  Then it was Heath’s turn, and he shot all the cans cleanly off the log with alarming dispatch. Oh, he was good. They all knew it, and no one more than he. He wore a slight smile on his face as the match continued, and his casual attitude made it clear that this was all ridiculously easy for him.

  Daniel, on the other hand, was irritated nearly beyond endurance. He looked more and more strained as each round was completed. Lucy watched in silent agony as Daniel’s face became red and perspiring. She had never seem him look so angry, and silently she cursed Heath and his predatory ways. To think that she had felt sorry for him before! He was taunting them all with his skill, and he couldn’t he
lp but know that instead of admiring him they were coming to dislike him intensely, but he continued to draw the game out.

  Lucy glared at Heath’s broad back and then looked at Daniel, who was fighting against a threat to his masculine pride. Her gaze softened with concern, for she knew that Daniel had never been bested at a shooting match by anyone, and it would hurt him terribly to lose.

  And somehow, they all knew he was going to lose.

  She felt Heath’s eyes on her. She looked over at him, unable to keep the anxiety and outrage out of her gaze. Her lips trembled with the words that she wanted to speak but had to keep inside. Suddenly the hint of savage enjoyment left Heath’s face, and he raked a hand through the ruffled thickness of his hair. When he took the rifle this time, his hands were more deliberate on the weapon and his movements were slower. He threw a quick glance at Lucy and then swerved his eyes to the target. One, two, three . . . four, five . . . six. There was a slight hesitation before he fired the last shot.

  The seventh can was left standing.

  Sally squealed and jumped down from the boulder to run towards Daniel. Loud enthusiasm erupted from the gathering as they all crowded around Daniel, thumping him on the back and congratulating him vigorously. Lucy remained sitting, staring at Heath as he gave her fiancé a cocky salute. Daniel nodded coolly and then turned back to his friends, grinning as they overwhelmed him with cheers.

  Heath walked over to Lucy, his brown, clean-shaven face as inscrutable as that of a statue. With the absence of a smile, the scar on his temple was more noticeable than usual. She wanted to trace that healed-over line and lay her palm against his cheek in comfort—until she suddenly realized what he had done. Though none of them knew it, he had allowed Daniel to win! Missing that last shot had been a gesture of contempt for them, for the game that had meant so much to them and so little to him. She wondered if he held her in contempt as well.

  “You did it on purpose,” she said in a low voice. He stared at her without making any effort to wipe the hunger from his gaze.

  “I did it for you,” he answered huskily. “Though God knows it’s damned irritating to have to admit.” There was a self-mocking edge to his voice. “You seem to be a weakness of mine.”

  “Don’t think I owe you anything!” Hurriedly she turned away and scooted down the side of the rock. He caught her beneath the elbows, helping her down, and she was shocked by the feelings that rushed over at the simple touch of his hands on her bare arms. Even though all these people were near and Daniel was just a few feet away, she wanted to be held by Heath Rayne. For one explosive moment she felt the urge to cling to him, bury her face against his copper skin and inhale his scent. Though she fought against the craving, Lucy couldn’t deny that he had a power over her that no one else had, not Daniel or anyone else. The absoluteness of it frightened her. Wrenching herself away from him, she ran to the group that surrounded Daniel, fighting her way in until she reached Daniel’s side. When she looked over at the boulder, Heath was no longer there.

  “What did you say to him?”

  “Nothing,” Lucy murmured, squinting against the brightness of the sunlight, which glinted off the sides of the train. They walked by the milk car while farmers from the edge of town were stacking the last of their produce on board. Daniel’s face remained stony as Lucy accompanied him to the passenger car. After a good fifteen minutes of badgering, she was wishing heartily that she had not promised to see Daniel off on the train headed for Boston. “What time is your railroad meeting going to be?” she asked. “I hope the train will be on time.”

  “Sally said you and he were looking at each other during the shooting match.”

  “I was looking at you!”

  “I don’t want you talking to him anymore. Not one word, ever again, unless I’m there.”

  “What if we pass each other in the street? Should I just ignore him? That’s bad manners!”

  Her protest seemed to incense him. “Lucy, I won’t tolerate any argument from you on this. If we’re going through with this wedding, and if we’re going to become man and wife—”

  “What do you mean, if?”

  “Then we’re going to have to come to an understanding. You’ve been different the past few months than I’ve ever known you to be, wild and argumentative, trying to push me to the edge of my limits. But no more. I don’t want you talking to that . . . that Southerner any more. I want you to cool your friendship with Sally. She’s a bad influence on you. I don’t want you going to socials or gatherings without me, since your father obviously doesn’t keep a close eye on you.”

  “I’m not a child to be watched over!”

  “If you want to be my wife, there are some rules we’re going to establish right now.”

  “Daniel . . .” Lucy’s cheeks turned red as she trembled with frustration. Ever since the shooting match a few days ago, he had worn an austere expression that suited his slim features far too well and showed no signs of leaving soon. The dark brown eyes had been cold, his mouth tight-lipped underneath the immaculately groomed mustache.

  “The train’s going to leave soon,” he said, hardly looking at her. “I’m getting on board. We’ll talk more this evening.”

  As he climbed aboard the train, Lucy watched him and folded her arms across her chest, her jaw mutinously stiff. Daniel thought that she had changed. There was no doubt in her mind that he had changed as well.

  The train pulled laboriously away from the depot and started down the iron tracks. Lucy watched the lumbering bulk of it turn into a small blotch in the distance before she sighed moodily and turned around to head back home.

  “You two have such interesting conversations.”

  Startled, she looked up in the direction of the voice. Her eyes narrowed on Heath Rayne’s handsome, rascally smile.

  “Are you spying on me?” she asked gruffly, glancing around to make sure that no one was near enough to overhear them. Heath shrugged, slipping his hands in the pockets of his trousers. The action made the well-fitted trousers almost indecently tight, outlining the powerful shape of his thighs. Lucy berated herself for noticing such things about him. But there was an aura about him that few men possessed, of full-blooded maleness and confidence, that she’d have to be blind not to notice.

  “No, I’m not spying.” The corners of his wide mouth tilted in an irrepressible smile. “I have a few things to take care of in town, and I happened to catch a glimpse of that charming hat.”

  Defensively she raised a hand to check the position of her dainty white hat, which was festooned with a pearl butterfly and a bouquet of marabou feathers and pearl drops.

  “Don’t touch it. It’s perfect,” he said, and her eyes fell before his frankly appreciative glance.

  “If you overheard anything—”

  “I did,” he assured her.

  “We were discussing private matters—”

  “I know.” Heath seemed to take a great deal of enjoyment in enumerating the list of rules Daniel had given her. “Don’t be friends with Sally, don’t be seen with me, don’t go to meetings or dances without him at your shoulder. Even after you’re married, he’ll still be telling you what to do and who to talk to—”

  “That’s a husband’s right, isn’t it?”

  “Is it?”

  The conventional answer would be a simple yes. Lucy was silent for several seconds. Her lips parted and closed several times as she sought a suitable reply. She couldn’t think of one.

  “Things change after people are married,” she finally said, talking more to herself than to him. “People change.”

  “Not usually for the better.”

  “How would you know? Are you an authority on marriage . . . or on me, for that matter? You act just like Daniel, as if you know what’s best for me. Well, maybe I should start deciding what I want!”

  His eyes gleamed like a cat’s. “Maybe you should. What do you want?”

  She wanted Daniel. But she wanted Daniel to be different. “Tha
t’s none of your concern.”

  “But it is. I’m afraid I’ve already invested a lot in you.”

  “Invested what? A lot of what?”

  “A lot of worry and vexation.” His casual tone of voice belied his words. “About the fact that he’s bent on changing you. He’s not good for you.”

  “Stop it. I’m not listening.”

  “He’s trying to change you into the kind of obedient woman he wants, and all that’s going to wind up doing is making you miserable. And it’s not because he means to—he’s just made that way, the opposite of everything you are.”

  “Opposite! That’s laughable. That’s ridiculous. I’ve never met anyone more like me than Daniel. He and I are the same kind of person.”

  “Is that how you see yourself?” he demanded, and suddenly there was a scowl riding between his eyes. “The kind of woman who’ll be happy with a husband who wants to make her into a reflection of himself? Do you really believe . . .” He stopped and looked at her, and the spark left his eyes as he wiped the expression off of his face, leaving it smooth and unreadable. “Stubborn little hardnose. With every word I say, you dig your heels in deeper, don’t you? Well, I won’t let you use me to whip up your determination. If you want him, you decide on your own. I’m not going to waste another word on it.”

  “But . . . but we aren’t done with the conversation. I want to know what you were going to say.”

  “I’d rather talk about something else.”

  “But, Heath, won’t you just tell me—”

  “No.”

  The word rang with finality. Flat-out, no. She discovered that it irritated her to no end, as if he had just closed a door in her face. “Why not?” she asked, her voice subdued and, though she wouldn’t have liked to admit it, rather sullen.

  “Because you’re spoiling for an argument and I’m not. And you should be having this discussion with Daniel. You should have given him an argument five minutes ago instead of waiting for me to show up.”

  “I wasn’t waiting for . . . oh, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You make me feel like—”