A Corner of Heaven

by Raine Cantrell

  A Corner of Heaven

  Raine Cantrell

  Copyright

  Diversion Books

  A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.

  443 Park Avenue South, Suite 1008

  New York, NY 10016

  www.DiversionBooks.com

  Copyright © 1991 by Theresa DiBenedetto

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For more information, email info@diversionbooks.com

  First Diversion Books edition March 2015

  ISBN: 978-1-62681-690-9

  Also by Raine Cantrell

  Novels

  The Homecoming

  Wildflower

  Silver Mist

  Western Winds

  Desert Sunrise

  Calico

  Tarnished Hearts

  Whisper My Name

  Darling Annie

  Gifts of Love

  Novellas

  A Time for Giving

  Apache Fire

  Miss Delwin’s Delights

  More Than a Miracle

  The Bride’s Gift

  The Secret Ingredient

  To Elizabeth Cavanaugh, for always being in my corner

  Chapter One

  Richmond, Virginia

  November, 1862

  “Elizabeth.” Colonel Colter Wade Saxton whispered the name, rubbing his eyes. By the press of his knee he instantly brought his bay hunter to a halt and dismounted, half-believing that he had seen an apparition. Two loaded supply wagons rumbled past before he caught a glimpse of the woman’s slender back. There was something…Ignoring his fellow officers’ warnings that they were late for their meeting at the War Office, Colter dodged the carriages and wagons congesting the street and crossed to the building that the woman had disappeared into.

  He quickly mounted the steps, compelled by an inner urgency. Once inside, he was jostled by the ebb and flow of people in the reception room belonging to Christopher Memminger, the Confederate secretary of the treasury.

  Colter used his considerable height and lithe body to wedge a path through the crowd, absently begging the pardon of several matrons whose belled skirts he crushed in his progress. Coming to an abrupt stop, he searched for sight of his quarry. Spying the light gray mantle draped over a plum-colored skirt that the woman had been wearing, Colter shouted her name, disregarding the attention he brought to both of them. When she turned toward him, Colter tried to conceal his shock. Her face was pale, her eyes bruised with shadows. She silently mouthed his name, her gaze clouded with disbelief.

  Caught at the far end of the room, hemmed in by the press of bodies, Elizabeth had no avenue of escape. She stood perfectly still, feeling time stop in the moments that it took him to move with a deadly, almost pantherlike agility to her side.

  Colter swept her along to a small clear space against the back wall. “Dear Lord, Elizabeth, it’s been so long.” Silently cursing her bell hoop and crinoline, he took her into his arms and muffled her cry with his lips. Colter wasn’t thinking; three hours of sleep in as many days had robbed him of that ability. The room, the shocked gasps, the war, all of it receded in those precious moments when he held her. His hand spanned the small of her back, pulling her closer to his body. He wanted to plunder her mouth with all the feverish intensity that gripped him, but her lips were soft and he gentled his kiss.

  Elizabeth had had no time to marshal her defenses. Colter was here, alive, holding her and kissing her as if it were still his right.

  And she was letting him.

  No. Innate honesty demanded that she acknowledge she was desperate for his kiss, drowning again in the memory of her first taste of a man’s passion. She gripped his arms and arched her head back, giving him her mouth with the hunger of a love too long denied.

  As he held her against the hard warmth of his body, her senses blossomed to life, drawing in the well-remembered masculine scent that was Colter’s alone, so that desire sharpened into consuming need.

  Lovers…once, but no more. Her passion wasn’t Colter’s right to take, or hers to give.

  The moist, smooth glide of his tongue skimming the seam of her lips forced her to pull away. Summon outrage for this breach of impropriety, she commanded herself. But she simply could not. For a few moments she stole the comfort of his arms, pressing her cheek to the soft wool of his uniform frock coat, and listened to the wild thud of his heart that kept cadence with her own.

  Colter, both dream and nightmare from the past.

  Colter pressed his lips to her temple, felt the frantic pulse beat and knew that another would beat in the hollow of her throat. He drew deep breaths that brought to life the delicate scent of peach blossoms. The scent was hers. A scent that had haunted his nights.

  “I won’t apologize, Elizabeth.”

  She jerked her head back, staring up at him with dismay. “You must. I—”

  “Of course, how remiss of me.” A cynical smile broke the sensuous curve of his mouth. His eyes glinted with fury as he stepped back and released her. “Our gallant code of honor demands that I be the one to apologize for taking liberties from a married woman.”

  “And you, sir? Would your wife not object?”

  “Wife? One near chance to enjoy the married state was enough to cure me of the desire.”

  He had no right to cast his bitterness on her, Elizabeth thought. She bit her lower lip, wondering what he had meant by his pointed words, but she would not ask. Glancing down to where she twisted the cord of her reticule, she prayed that no one she knew had been witness to her indiscretion. Fear of what could result made her attempt to step forward.

  Colter quickly raised his arm and braced his hand against the wall, using his body as both a shield and an imprisoning force. He was certain she had no wish to create a scene.

  Elizabeth gazed up at him. Colter was dangerous, but at heart he was still a Southern gentleman. His words dashed her hope that he would step aside.

  “No. You’re not running off. Surely, you can be gracious enough to spare a few minutes to renew your acquaintance with an old friend?”

  Elizabeth flinched under the relentless bite of his words. Although he had waited years for this confrontation, Colter found he took little satisfaction in seeing the pleading look in Elizabeth’s eyes. Her face whitened until he feared she would faint.

  “Please, let me pass, Colter. We have nothing to say to each other.” Elizabeth could feel the powerful tension from his body surround her. She did not want to remember how his clean-shaven cheeks and jaw felt beneath her lips, or how the neatly clipped sideburns felt against her skin. She did not want to notice that he appeared exhausted. She was not going to allow even a tiny ember of compassion to interfere with sane reason, which begged her to get away from him quickly. Now, while she could still summon the will.

  “What are you doing in Richmond, Elizabeth? Has James managed to get himself a desk job to sit out the war? Is that why you’re afraid to talk to me? Is James here?”

  “Have mercy, Colter,” she whispered. “Don’t you know?” His frown and puzzled look answered her. “He was declared missing after the fighting at Shiloh.”

  “The Hornet’s Nest? With Johnston?”

  “Yes.”

  “But that was over seven months ago.”

  “Were you there, Colter?”

  “No. But I know we lost almost a third of our men in that battle, along with any hope for a quick and bloodless end to
the war. Surely in all this time you’ve had some word of James?”

  She closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly, trying but failing to regain her composure.

  “Are you certain, Elizabeth? So many men have similar names. There could have been a mistake. When we first heard that General Johnston was killed there, no one realized that it was Albert and not Joseph who died.”

  She opened her eyes and looked up briefly. “There were no Warings listed among the dead, wounded or the prisoners taken by the Union forces.” She hoped that Colter would credit the start of tears to the news of her husband. She must never let him know how betrayed she felt, first by Colter and then by James. She could never tell him that her marriage to James had been a terrible mistake, or explain that James’s status of missing left her exposed to the viciousness of her mother-in-law, Alma Waring. Her stomach began to churn with nausea. She would never let Alma succeed with her plan.

  Meeting Colter was a complication she didn’t want or need. He was part of her past, and, heaven help her, she had to keep him there.

  Without thinking, she raised her fingertips to her lips. She could feel the lingering heat of Colter’s mouth, just as the tip of her tongue could still taste him.

  “Don’t.”

  His tortured whisper nearly undid her. Her gaze locked with his, and she had to force herself not to plead. “You must excuse me, Colter.”

  He sensed her desperation to get away from him, but he didn’t move. There had been too many nights when he had longed to see her again, despite the bitterness he harbored. But he puzzled over why she appeared to be afraid of him. That wasn’t a trait of the Elizabeth he knew.

  With considerable effort, he buried the questions he wanted answers to, stifled the roil of emotions she raised inside him and offered her a smile.

  “I won’t hurt you, Elizabeth. Can’t you tell me why you’re here? I can assure you, the secretary won’t be able to give you any information regarding James.”

  The soft, coaxing drawl of his voice soothed her. Colter, at his charming best, was difficult to resist. She sighed, releasing some of her tension.

  “I’m here to apply for a job.” As she said the words, she prayed that Colter was not quartered in or near Richmond. She would not survive being forced to see him again.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Ever since the Confederate congress passed the Conscription Act to recruit more men to fight, women have been allowed to fill the vacant positions in government bureaus.”

  “But what does that matter to you? Why would you need a job?” Colter couldn’t stop himself from teasing her. “Ever the rebel, little fox?”

  A wicked grin creased his lips, beckoning her once again to share her innermost feelings. Despite the past, Elizabeth was tempted to open her heart to him. She stared up at his eyes, watching as their green color darkened, splintering the gold flecks into bright shards of desire.

  Colter gazed at her, then murmured, “You haven’t forgotten when I first called you that, have you?”

  A flood of warm memories assailed her. One by one, she fought them down. “Stop this, Colter. Don’t say anything that you will regret. And do not call me that again. I’ve left all my childhood indulgences behind.”

  “Childhood indulgences?” he repeated with scorn. “Is that what I was to you?” He leaned closer, forcing her back to the wall. “Tell me, Mrs. Waring, do you greet all the ghosts from your past with such ardor?”

  She searched his features, as familiar as her own, and found no softening in them. With a lift of her rounded chin, she summoned courage. “I am quite sure that you have other important business to tend to, as I do.”

  “Nothing,” he grated from between clenched teeth, “could possibly tear me from your side.”

  An inner door opened, and the crowd surged toward the under secretary, who stood, list in hand, calling out names. Colter glared at a couple that shoved him from behind, almost causing him to crush Elizabeth against the wall. Yet he couldn’t deny that he would seize any excuse to be close to her, and the devil could take his damn honor.

  Elizabeth’s head remained bowed as Colter stepped back and stared his fill. She appeared to have a deceptive air of fragility. Willow slender, delicately boned, her height barely brought the top of her head to his chin. Not that her height ever stopped him from claiming the lush fullness of her mouth. He could feel his blood grow hot, pulse and surge, all of which he forcibly subdued. His gaze shifted to the small, smoke gray bonnet perched toward the back of her head, revealing the smooth center part of her hair. The color of her hair reminded him of the warm blend of nutmeg and cinnamon spices, and he almost reached up to touch it.

  Elizabeth glanced up, then away. Colter thought about feathering kisses at the slanted corners of her eyes, watching them darken to the deep richness of whiskey. Her lashes were long and straight, light at the tips. Right now, to his frustration, she used them effectively to bar his gaze from meeting hers.

  “Are you finished, Colter? People are staring.”

  “No. I’ve questions that have gone begging for answers and I won’t be cheated.”

  Elizabeth withdrew inside herself. It was the only way to cope with him.

  Colter’s breath caught and he released it slowly. He wanted to shake her, but at the same moment he wished he could turn back time. Four years to be exact. He should have proposed marriage to her, not given in to a damn misplaced desire to allow her time to explore and grow in her newly found freedom. He had thought her too young to marry at seventeen. But not too young to make love, a nagging devil reminded him.

  He clenched his hand at his side. His best friend, James Waring, had had no such noble sentiments. Within months of Colter’s arrival in England on family business, James wrote that Elizabeth had agreed to marry him.

  It was an open wound that had never healed. He knew she had loved him. She had proved it that last night together, defying all she had been taught, all she believed in, to love him.

  Elizabeth noted the change in his breathing. His eyes were closed, and she knew that Colter was lost in the past. Why didn’t she bolt and run? Colter had no right to stop her. But he would. She knew that.

  Hesitantly she placed her hand on his arm. “Colter, it doesn’t do any good to remember the past.”

  His dark brown lashes lifted, revealing a look so cold that it sent shivers down her spine. He covered her hand with his, shaking his head.

  “This isn’t the place for us to talk. And I need—”

  “No. It’s over,” Elizabeth said. Colter’s gaze hardened, raising her anger. “Haven’t you exacted enough payment? You left me, Colter, four years ago. What do you want of me now?”

  It pained him to hear her agonizing plea. “Come with me.”

  Elizabeth swallowed. Honesty was the only weapon she had to use. “I can’t leave. I told you I’m here to apply for a job. Please, Colter,” she whispered, seeing the firm set of his chin. “It was difficult for me to make the arrangements to come to Richmond. Mr. Memminger has ignored every letter I’ve sent.” She looked around the room, adding, “You can see for yourself how many are here.”

  Colter, too, glanced around him. “Is that what these women want from him, jobs?”

  “Living in Richmond is expensive. By their dress most of them appear to be widows. The salary offered is sixty-five dollars a month, and I’ve been told that for every opening there are over a hundred women applying, so you see, I must stay.”

  “And the chatelaine of the Waring plantation is planning to live on that pittance? Your bonnet had to cost more.”

  “Stop mocking me. I was never the chatelaine of the plantation. James’s mother wouldn’t allow it.”

  “If fear of not seeing Memminger is all that is keeping you from accompanying me, rest assured, my dear Mrs. Waring, I’ll arrange a private appointment for you.” Colter took her arm and tucked it into the crook of his elbow, holding her hand firmly so that she was anchored to his side
.

  She tried to argue, but it was a futile exercise. Colter intended to escort her out, and he couldn’t or wouldn’t listen to her. She felt an unwanted stab of jealousy as women turned admiring glances his way. Colter had a commanding presence, a reputation for being a daredevil, and his rough-hewn features that hinted of an untamed virility were sure to attract female attention wherever he went. Even Elizabeth wasn’t immune.

  Once they stepped outside, the rising winter wind made its bite felt. Elizabeth shivered beneath the light wool mantle she wore. Colter noticed, but he was swearing softly to see the small contingent of his fellow officers waiting for him. He ignored their knowing grins, distracted for a moment. He couldn’t very well take Elizabeth to his suite at the hotel. Where in the overcrowded capital was he going to find a respectable place of privacy?

  “They’re waiting for you, aren’t they?” she asked, blushing at the young men’s boldly admiring glances.

  “Where are you staying?” he demanded, watching his friends dismount. Before the officers could climb the stairs, Colter had escorted Elizabeth down. He should have known that they would wait and, seeing Elizabeth, would demand introductions.

  “I have rooms outside the city,” she murmured, dreading the thought of meeting these men. They all appeared younger than Colter by a year or two, but as they drew closer, she could see the same fever-bright cynicism in their eyes that marked so many of the South’s young men now. Elizabeth stood quietly at Colter’s side, hoping that his chivalrous upbringing would make him offer her his protection.

  The youngest of the three came forward, sweeping off his hat with a flourish, directing a rakish grin at Colter. “You are forgiven for making us wait on you.”

  “Mrs. Waring, may I present Major Brice Carroll, and don’t mistake his charming looks for softness. Brice is the deadliest shot in our unit.”

  Elizabeth forced a smile, but she had to look away from his too-knowing eyes.