“Do you have to sneak up on me all the time?” she snapped, her heart thundering, and not just because the major had frightened her—again—but he wasn’t wearing any shirt. Ella had never seen a man’s chest before. She couldn’t stop herself from looking at it now.
A curling mat of dark hair began just below his collarbone, growing finer and lighter as it dusted from chest to belly, then disappeared. The skin of his arms was smooth, the muscles rippling with every move that he made. The Colts slung low on his hips only emphasized the ridges across his stomach and the leanness of his thighs. For a soft Yankee major, he appeared awfully hard.
“I didn’t sneak,” he said. She yanked her eyes from his muscles and back to his face. “I was here all the time.”
“Hmm,” was all she could manage with him standing there half naked.
He drew in a mouthful of smoke, then set it free. “Out of curiosity, how many guns do you have?”
She still pointed the derringer at his chest, so she put it away. “Enough.”
“For what?”
“To be safe.”
“I’m here now. You don’t need to worry.”
She snorted. “You’re one of the things I worry about.”
He frowned, but he didn’t argue. Instead he took another long pull on his cigarette, then gestured at the gnarled branches of the apple tree. “How did this survive?”
“I’m not sure. The damned Yankees—” she broke off, glanced at him, shrugged, and started over. “The soldiers spared the house but burned the fields. We’re still not sure why. But this tree survived, and it produces. We’ll have apples come fall. The resiliency of this land amazes me. When I think of all it’s seen, all it’s endured and yet it thrives, I’m stunned by the miracle.”
He was watching her closely. “You love it here.”
“Why wouldn’t I? This is my home. I’m part of the land and the land’s part of me. I never want to be anywhere else.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, echoing her, and continued to smoke as he contemplated the tree and the sky.
The night was enjoyable, the air between them cool and quiet—until Gaby lost her happy thought and began to cry. Exhausted, Ella nearly cried herself.
The major took one final draw on his cigarette, then ground the rest into oblivion with the heel of his boot before holding out his arms for the baby. “Hand the little creature over.”
“You’d better put on a shirt first.” Ella’s face heated. “Skin to skin, she’ll stick to you like a leech.”
He glanced down, surprise lighting his face, as if he’d forgotten he was waltzing around in the night half dressed. Perhaps that was what Yankees did, and they never thought twice about it.
“Excuse me.” He picked up the garment from the ground at the base of the apple tree and shoved his arms into the sleeves.
Gaby’s breath started to hitch, the sure sign of a coming explosion. Before Ella could object, or he could button his shirt, the major snatched the baby and settled her into the crook of his arm.
Ella tensed. Gaby did not appreciate being flung about like a sack of potatoes. Every time one of the children tried it, there was an eruption of sound and tears. Instead, she took a deep breath, let it out on a contented sigh and closed her eyes.
Ella blinked. “How did you do that?”
“What?”
“She went to sleep.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Shh, you’ll wake her.”
Effectively silenced, Ella had nothing to do but watch the baby sleep, which led to watching the major’s chest rise and fall.
Why did seeing him with his shirt open and unbuttoned entice her more than his bare skin had? Because now she knew what lay beneath the white cotton, and she could imagine it all night long.
Ella shook her head. What was the matter with her? He was a Yankee. The enemy. And he was leaving, just as soon as she could get rid of him.
However, the picture he made with Gaby in his arms tugged at her. The baby adored him. Whenever he came near, she laughed and waved her hands, kicked her feet. If she cried, only his arms could quiet her. It was infuriating. Sometimes Ella wanted to scream, she was so jealous. But she also had to wonder what the baby sensed in him that she did not.
“Come here,” he whispered.
Ella jumped. “What? Why?”
He tossed her a mildly annoyed glance. “Must you question everything? Come here and look.”
He tilted his arms, tipping the baby forward as if to show Ella something. Concerned, she came closer.
“Is that the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” he murmured.
Gaby’s sweetly bowed mouth puckered and released, puckered and released.
“You think she’s eating in her dreams?” he asked.
“Either that or kissing you.”
Their eyes met. His were so blue they reminded her of the sky on a sunny day, even in the dead of night. The air smelled of cool breezes and the fading tang of apples, at war with the scent of male heat and sultry smoke. What would he taste like if she put her lips on his, dipped her tongue inside, savored the warmth and the heat of him?
He would taste of ashes. The death of the South.
She had to remember that the demise of all she’d held dear had begun and ended with men just like him. He was forbidden, yet she wanted him just the same.
And because of that he had to go—or she did.
Ella whirled and headed for the house.
Six
Seth watched her go, the white nightdress trailing out behind her with the wind. The baby, content and sleeping in his arms, kept him from chasing after Ella and kissing her as he wanted to.
She’d wanted the kiss, too. He’d seen it in the way her lips had parted, the way her eyes had lowered to his mouth and clung, the way her breath had quickened, making the soft, full mounds of her breasts rise and fall with a tantalizing rhythm.
She was a beautiful girl. Of course he wanted her. But why would she want him?
As Ella had said over and over again, he was the enemy. She hated him on principle, and she didn’t even know the full extent of his perfidy—that he’d participated in the very battle which had killed Henry Elliot. That his family, his legacy, his wealth was based on so much death.
What would she say if she knew everything? He had a pretty good idea.
Ella was a Southern woman. They were tough, loyal, and stubborn as the old mules she’d once compared him to. Even if she was attracted to him physically, that didn’t mean a thing. She’d die a slow, painful death before she’d admit the feeling, let alone act upon it. She would never let him touch her, take her and make her his.
He’d been here three weeks, and the older children still looked at him as if they expected him to breathe fire from his nose or develop a sudden craving for blood.
Seth gazed down at the sleeping baby. Only Gaby was innocent enough to see the man inside the Yankee. He couldn’t explain how much she meant to him, how deeply he adored her for that alone.
The cool breeze, the scent of the apple tree, the acres upon acres of land that were his soothed Seth as nothing else ever had. The pace here was slower, the countryside quieter. The loudest noises were the cries of children.
Since he’d come to Winchester, he’d had no recurrence of the frightening fits he’d endured in Boston. Even the cannon fire that lived inside his head had stilled. Perhaps this place was all that he’d needed to heal.
He had no job, no friends, no future. He didn’t belong here.
So why did it feel as if he did?
***
When Ella reached the house, Cal stood on the porch. He contemplated her with a somber expression. Had he seen her with the major?
What if he had? Nothing had happened. Not that she hadn’t wanted it to.
The thought brought her up short. She could not, would not, be attracted to this man. He wasn’t going to stay.
Seth Torrance did not belong here. He might play at taking care of his friend’s children and farm, but he wasn’t a farmer and he never would be. Sooner or later he’d go back to where he had come from and leave his toys behind. She didn’t plan to be one of them.
“I don’t like him.” Cal stared at the distant silhouette of a man holding a child beneath the apple tree.
Ella climbed the porch steps and put her hand on Cal’s shoulder. Poor child, unable to be a child, forced too soon to be a man. But he was only one of a thousand others just the same.
He must have grown two inches in the last month. Thank goodness Seth had the money to buy Cal new clothes. What would she have done if he hadn’t come to help?
Ella put that thought out of her head, too. She could not depend on Seth. She could not depend on anyone but herself. If she did, she’d only be disappointed.
“He’s not for you to like or not, Cal.” She pulled him closer and smiled softly when he let her. “He’s your guardian, and he’s here to stay until he decides to go.”
“And when he does, will everything go back to the way that it was?”
Frowning, Ella tilted her head so she could see his face—eager and hopeful in the moonlight. “The way that it was when, sweetie?”
“When just the six of us were here. I liked it then. Didn’t you?”
Thinking back, Ella didn’t miss the time when there was barely enough food, no money to get more, carpetbaggers strolling down the lane any old time, and deserters or worse slinking about ready to take what little they had left. She’d been scared every minute before Seth showed up.
Though she’d been able to take care of them with the aid of her guns, Seth was a battle-seasoned soldier. His eyes scanned the horizon whenever he stepped outside. He wore his Colt as if he knew what to do with it, handled his rifle the same way. She hadn’t realized how safe she felt just having him near.
And that scared her so badly she blurted, “Yes. I liked it then, too.”
“I can make him go.”
The quiet, sure statement made Ella blink. “What? What do you mean?”
“If me and the others put our heads together, we can make him hightail it all the way back to where he came from. He isn’t going to stay, Ella. Better he goes now than after she gets too attached to him, don’t you think?”
His gaze rested on her face so intently that for an instant Ella wondered if he could see into her thoughts. He’d put them into words so well. Somehow she didn’t think Cal was just talking about Gaby when he used the word “she.”
Ella glanced at the apple tree where Seth still stood with the baby. She frowned.
When had she begun to think of him as Seth rather than the major? She couldn’t recall, and that in itself wasn’t good. When she thought of him as the major, she could remember he was the enemy. But Seth? He seemed more and more like a friend.
She looked at Cal once more. “Yes,” she murmured. “Better that he go now than later. Before she gets too attached.”
As Ella went inside, she considered that it might already be too late for her.
***
Seth awoke to a din reminiscent of the Battle at the Wilderness. He leaped from the bed, knocked his beleaguered knee against his new nightstand, and stumbled into the hallway. A bucket of icy water hit him full in the face.
As he stood there sputtering, drowning, trying to get his breath, the noise stopped. When he opened his eyes he found the four eldest Elliot children staring at him. Predictably, Cal held the empty bucket.
“What—what—what was that for?” he managed.
“Cat fight,” Cal said simply. “Only way to get ’em to stop is to toss some water on ’em.”
“Cats?” Seth glanced around the hall. “What cats?”
Cal shrugged. “They were here a minute ago. Weren’t they?”
Joshua, Elizabeth, and Delia all nodded, but none of them spoke. Seth narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth, and the baby began to cry.
“Never mind,” he said. “Where’s Ella?”
“Makin’ bekfast,” Elizabeth said.
“All right. Run along and eat. Tell her I’ll bring Gaby.”
He hurried into the baby’s room, dripping all the way. As he quickly crossed to the crib, first one foot, then the other, came down on something hard, round and mobile. He scrambled for purchase, lost, and landed on his butt—hard. Gaby’s crying stopped and she giggled.
Marbles were strewn across the scarred wood planks. Seth tightened his lips, got to his feet, and rubbed his bruised behind.
Ten minutes later, he and Gaby entered the kitchen. Ella glanced over her shoulder. The mere sight of her brought back everything he’d felt last night—awareness, tenderness, desire.
She appeared as beautiful in the sunlight as she had by the light of the moon. While she worked, the skirt of her dress swayed provocatively, drawing his gaze to her soft curves. The hem played hide-and-seek with her ankles. She wore no shoes, as usual. And while his mother would think this made her common, Seth only thought it made her Ella.
Meeting her, knowing her, touching her had brought color and sound and light back to his life. The inertia that had plagued him in Boston was no more.
“What was all the racket up there?” she asked, her voice brisk, all business, as if they’d never stood half naked in the night.
Seth looked at each child. They stared back with brown-eyed innocence. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he answered.
Three children glanced away. Only Cal held his gaze. But then, Seth had known Cal was the one to watch all along. He’d invaded the boy’s territory, just as the North had invaded the South.
Which was why the war had dragged on for four long years, despite the Union’s far superior resources of money, munitions, and men. When a country was invaded, the citizens were honor bound to fight back and fight back hard.
But Seth had begun to think of this as his place and these kids, despite their hostility, as his, too. He hadn’t lost a fight yet. He didn’t plan to lose this one.
He took his chair. Something squalled and struggled beneath him. Seth jumped up as a huge black cat shot across the room and out the open back door.
“Told you there was a cat,” Cal muttered.
Ella choked, coughed, and put her napkin to her lips—no doubt to hide a smile.
Seth had to struggle not to smile back. Cal was clever and he kept a cool head. Even now, the boy ate his breakfast as if he hadn’t just masterminded the morning. Still, he would have to do better than this to get rid of Seth Torrance.
“I need to go into town.” Ever since he’d arrived, Seth had been meaning to stop by the attorney’s office and pick up a copy of Henry’s will and any other pertinent papers pertaining to the children and the farm. “Anyone want to take a ride with me?”
He figured no one would, but it didn’t hurt to ask. He was surprised when Cal got slowly to his feet. “Me and Delia will go.”
The boy wouldn’t meet Seth’s eyes. What did the little terror have planned for him now?
He considered changing into one of his suits to meet with the attorney. He’d been wearing Henry’s work clothes for the past several weeks, and while they had felt odd at first, now he was more comfortable in the loose trousers and shirts that had been washed soft through years of wear than he was in his own things. Seth didn’t care if he ever put on a suit again. So he plopped his wide-brimmed straw hat onto his head and herded the two children out to the wagon.
The trip into town was uneventful. Delia sang a song about a pony at the top of her lungs and just a tad short of the correct key all the way there. Since it kept her entertained, and him as well, Seth let her. Cal merely stared straight ahead and ignored him. Perhaps that was for the best, though Seth couldn’t help but wonder what deviousness he was plotting behind those somber eyes.
Once in town, however, Cal spoke up. “Can I buy Delia some candy, Major? She’s never had none before.”
The utter joy on t
he little girl’s face made Seth feel guilty for suspecting Cal of hatching a new plot. The poor girl had never had candy, a situation that must be rectified immediately.
“Of course. Let’s get her some right away.”
He stepped toward the store, but Cal laid a hand on his arm. “No need for you to go. Best you do your errand whilst I get the candy. These days it isn’t a good idea to leave the women and children alone for too long.”
The reminder of the still dangerous nature of the countryside cast a chill over the warm summer day. But Cal was right.
The boy had seen his share of bad things, which had forced him to grow up too quickly. Seth only hoped he could give him back some of the childhood that had been stolen away. Candy was a step in the right direction.
“I’ll just head over to Mr. Blair’s office, then.” He reached into his pocket and handed Cal more than enough money for candy. “Get yourself a treat, too, and some for the rest at home.”
In lieu of a thank-you, Cal nodded, took Delia’s hand, and disappeared into the general store.
Within a half an hour they were on their way home. Delia slurped on gumdrops, which kept her from singing. Cal continued to stare.
“Don’t you want to eat your candy?” Seth asked.
“No, Major. I’m gonna save mine.”
Seth wanted to ask why, but he doubted Cal would tell him.
“You could call me Seth if you like,” he offered.
“No, sir, I couldn’t.” Cal went back to contemplating the breeze.
Seth had hoped a day together and a little bit of sugar would soften the boy. He should have known better.
Seven
Seth skirted the apple tree and strolled through the blackened fields. He knelt in the dirt, sifted some through his fingers. He wished that he knew more about farming, but he didn’t.
He glanced back at the house. The afternoon was proving as uneventful as the morning, which only made Seth nervous. Cal must be planning something extraordinarily devious if he was behaving himself for this long.
Ella had put Gaby down for a nap. When he’d left, she’d still been howling her displeasure, so Ella had taken the others outside for their lessons. He could see four blond heads and one dark one beneath the shade of the elm tree in the yard.
Lori Austin Page 4
