by Nan Ryan
“It’s quite all right,” Suzanna said with an easy smile. She had expected no less, rightly assuming that this woman Mattie had warned her about would ask questions Mitch would never have posed. Wise beyond her years, Suzanna made no effort to be evasive. She said calmly, “Yes, ma’am, I’m proud to say that I am one of the Virginia LeGrandes.” She shrugged and added, “Actually, I’m the last of the Virginia LeGrandes.”
Frowning, the older woman said, “But you’re so young. Both your parents…?”
Suzanna stated without hesitation, “My dear father, Lawrence LeGrande, passed away years ago, and I lost my frail mother, Emile, only recently.”
“I knew the name was familiar!” exclaimed Edna, snapping her fingers. “Your father was the son of Timothy Douglas LeGrande!” When Suzanna nodded, her hostess added, “I have an old acquaintance, General Edgar Clements, who was a very good friend of your paternal grandfather. Edgar Clements and Timothy LeGrande attended Virginia Military Institute together many years ago.”
Again Suzanna nodded. “Yes, I remember hearing about General Clements, but I can’t recall if I ever met him.”
“A dear, dear man,” said Edna. “The old general still joins me for dinner occasionally when he’s in the city.”
“How nice,” said Suzanna, then hurried on. “My only sibling, an older brother, was killed in the early days of the war at the first Battle of Manassas.”
“No! Oh, child, I’m so sorry,” offered a sympathetic Edna.
Mitch interjected, “We lost a lot of good men at Manassas. I’m saddened to hear that one was your brother, Suzanna.”
Suzanna shook her head and breathed a bit easier. Just as she had supposed, both Mitch and his great-aunt took for granted that her brother had fought with the Union.
“Yes, we did,” she said. “Too many.” Then she hurried on. “I no longer live in the riverside mansion, Miss Longley. Since I’m now all alone, I sold the estate and moved to Georgetown to be nearer my friends.” Suzanna quickly named a half-dozen acquaintances who were loyal to the Union. She concluded by saying, “My dearest friend is Cynthia Ann Grayson, but she and her family fled Washington when the war began. You probably know Cynthia’s mother, Jennie Grayson.”
At the mention of Jennie Grayson’s name, Edna Earl Longley smiled. “I’ve always been fond of Jennie. Such a gracious hostess.”
Suzanna smiled back. “Yes, she is. I’ve attended many glittering receptions Mrs. Grayson hosted at Stratford House.” Suzanna paused, then added, “Mattie Kirkendal is about the only prominent hostess left in the city.”
Edna snorted. “I taught Mattie everything she knows.” She looked from Suzanna to Mitch. “That where you two met? At Mattie’s? Did you meet just last night?”
Mitch shook his head at his aunt. “No more questions. Keep it up and we’ll leave.”
“Ah, relax, Mitchell, my boy,” Edna said, and took Suzanna’s arm. “Come on inside, Suzanna. Let’s have a glass of port before the meal.”
The old woman was cagey. She made pleasant small talk, but skillfully slipped in probing questions throughout the conversation. By the time Mitch and Suzanna bade Edna Earl Longley good-day at shortly after three o’clock that afternoon, Suzanna felt completely wrung out. And she had a nagging headache brought on by nerves.
Outside, the sun was high and hot. Not a hint of a breeze stirred the heavy, humid air. Feeling wilted and weary, Suzanna dreaded returning to her broiling rented rooms. In the west-facing structure, there would be no relief from the muggy heat until the summer sun finally went down.
Mitch lifted her up into the gig, circled around and swung up onto the seat beside her. He took up the reins, then turned and looked at her. He noted her flushed cheeks and the sheen of moisture covering her bare throat. She frowned and shaded her eyes with her hand.
“Look at me, Suzanna.” She turned and gazed up at him. He said, in that low rich baritone, “It’s uncomfortably hot and muggy today. But I know a place that’s shady and cool and quiet.”
His vivid green eyes held an unsettling power, and Suzanna’s first impulse was to look away. She started to speak. He stopped her.
He said softly, but firmly, “I’m going to take you there. Now, this afternoon.”
Eighteen
Suzanna was unconcerned.
She assumed Mitch intended to take her to his Washington residence. At lunch his aunt had asked if he was staying at home or in a hotel during his leave. Mitch hadn’t replied, had just shrugged broad shoulders. Miss Longley had made a mean face at him, then turned to Suzanna and explained that Mitch’s primary residence was a palatial house off Dupont Circle.
“Part of the estate my nephew inherited from his parents.” She had added, “Keeps a full staff of retainers there with very little to do, since he is never in residence.” She had again looked at Mitch, adding accusingly, “He refuses to get rid of any of them.” She then pursed her lips in disapproval.
Suzanna concluded that while it might not be exactly proper, she would nonetheless be totally safe going to his home, since there was a full staff in residence. The two of them would not be alone. And even if they were, so what? She was a spy and had to take risks.
Now, as Mitch turned the gig down a boulevard to the south of Dupont Circle and headed in the other direction, she became curious and slightly uneasy. She started to ask where they were going, but her attention was quickly directed to a park just ahead, where those despised blue uniformed men were everywhere. It was like that all over the city. Parks had become campgrounds. Churches were hospitals. Forts ringed the town.
The capital had been an armed camp since the war began. It was a principal supply depot for the Union Army and an important medical center. She had heard that three thousand soldiers slept in the Capitol Building and that a bakery had been set up in the basement. The streets were constantly filled with the wounded.
Suzanna gritted her teeth and closed her eyes against the unsettling sight. She kept them closed until the shouts and calls of the soldiers had died away behind them. When finally she ventured a look, she was surprised to see that they were on a narrow lane leading into a dense grove of trees ahead. The Capitol and the city had seemed to disappear.
“Where are we?” she asked, feeling the cool of the forest quickly envelop her as the gig rolled under the canopy of trees.
“Almost there,” he told her, skillfully guiding the horse around a sharp bend and down a gentle incline.
After they’d traveled another mile, a rustic cottage appeared before them, nestled in the trees, almost completely hidden at the end of the narrow lane. When Mitch stopped the gig in front of the cottage, he turned, smiled at Suzanna and said, “Welcome to my personal piece of paradise.”
Eyes wide, she asked, “Exactly where are we?”
“A little island of tranquility in the heart of the city.” He laid the reins aside, swung down out of the gig and came around for her.
“You’re teasing me,” she said.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he answered, taking her hand and leading her to the cottage. “My family has owned this forty acres of forested land for as long as I can remember. They never did anything with it, but never sold it, either. I used to come out here as a boy when I wanted to be alone. A dozen years ago I had this cottage built for a retreat. It’s a convenient place to get away from everything and everyone, to read and rest and enjoy the solitude.”
Mitch unlocked the front door and handed Suzanna into a small foyer. Once inside, she turned and entered a large parlor where an abundance of floor-to-ceiling windows brought the outside in. She stood for a long moment looking around. Across the spacious room was a stone fireplace with a huge fur rug spread out before it. Overstuffed chairs and sofas looked big and masculine and comfortable. Shelves reaching to the ceiling were filled with leather-bound books. A writing desk sat in the corner beneath a window. A polished mahogany bar stretched along half the back wall, near a door opening to the outside.
/> Mitch took Suzanna’s hand and led her across the room and out that door, onto a shaded porch that afforded an unobstructed view of a brook spilling down a rocky streambed. The tinkling sound of cold, clean water splashing over the smooth boulders was soothing to the spirit, just as the deep shade was cooling to the body.
“No matter how hot the summer day, it’s always cool here,” he said.
“And beautiful,” she replied as she looked around.
A hammock hung at one end of the porch.
Mitch looked pointedly at that hammock, then at Suzanna. She was tempted. But if she stretched out in the hammock, he might try and lie down beside her. She thought better of it. Instead she sank into one of the matching rockers at the far end of the porch. Mitch followed suit. He dropped down into the rocker beside her, stretched his long legs out before him, laced his fingers atop his stomach and sighed with pleasure.
He said, “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve never brought anyone else here?”
“No.” She was quick to reply. He chuckled softly and said no more. “Why did you bring me here?” Suzanna finally asked.
He reminded her, “You were warm and uncomfortable when we left Aunt Edna’s. You’re not now, are you?”
“No,” she had to admit. “I’m quite cool and very comfortable.” She leaned back, breathed deeply of the fresh air and couldn’t keep from smiling as she watched a robin redbreast sail down to land on a slippery rock in the middle of the tinkling brook and wet its beak. She released a deep sigh and felt herself starting to unwind after a tense afternoon spent with the inquisitive Miss Edna Earl Longley.
For the next hour, the pair sat on the shaded porch, talking and laughing and being companionably lazy. Suzanna knew—had always known—how to entertain her audience, and she was intent on amusing Mitch. She regaled him with tales of her ancestors. She purposely embellished the stories she had learned at her grandparents’ knees, making them more colorful, more interesting.
Suzanna had a happy faculty for forgetting things she didn’t want to recall and remembering things as she would have liked them to happen. Therefore, when she related an event, it was exactly as she would have wanted it to be. She called on her storytelling talents to spin humorous yarns of her forebears’ brave exploits.
Laughing at her anecdotes and the changing expressions on her face, Mitch was charmed and delighted. He felt a wonderful exhilaration just being around this high-spirited young beauty. She was capable, as no one else was, of making him forget everything. And everyone.
Which was exactly Suzanna’s intent. She broached every subject under the sun, except the war. She was far too clever to so much as mention it. She wanted this naval commander to assume that she was just what she seemed to be, a frivolous, pleasure-loving young woman who knew little or nothing about the conflict. And was not the least bit interested in hearing about such disagreeable things as troop maneuvers and battles and casualties.
As she talked and Mitch listened, Suzanna made no effort to draw him out, to learn more about him. She judged that this handsome officer was reflective, poetic and innately private. A gallant man who possessed a quiet, mature authority. Not the kind to let anyone ever get too close to him.
Suzanna was undeterred by this knowledge. She fully intended to get close to him. Very close. So close he would share vital secrets.
Now, as she sat here on this shaded porch, cunningly drawing Mitch into her web, Suzanna found that she was rather enjoying herself, despite the fact that he was the enemy. This place, this remote cottage in the woods, was very conducive to rest and relaxation, to letting down your guard. She could understand why he liked coming here. It was so pretty and peaceful and…and…
All at once it struck Suzanna that this secluded cottage was more than likely where this handsome Union officer would conduct his clandestine romantic trysts.
Jaw tightening at this disturbing thought, Suzanna turned her head and looked at Mitch. His eyes were closed, dark lashes resting on high cheekbones. Her own eyes narrowing, she stared at him while he was unaware of her scrutiny. She swallowed hard. He looked beautiful and sullen and dangerous all at the same time.
And despite her inherent hatred of him, her heart tripped in her chest when his beautiful emerald eyes opened and he turned and looked at her. Wordlessly he reached out, took her hand in his and placed it over his mouth, not just kissing it, but running her little finger back and forth, rubbing it sensuously over his warm, smooth lips.
“Have dinner with me tonight, Suzanna,” he said in a low, persuasive voice.
“I’ve love to,” she said without hesitation, her fingers tingling from the touch of his lips.
Mitch took her hand from his mouth and laid it on his chest. She felt his heavy, rhythmic heartbeat against her palm. “The cottage is well-stocked. Let’s dine here, just the two of us.”
“Absolutely not.” Suzanna withdrew her hand and stood up.
Mitch quickly came to his feet. A mischievous half grin on his face, he said, “Afraid?”
“Of what?”
“Me.”
“No.” Suzanna flashed him a radiant smile and said honestly, “But you, Admiral Longley, should be afraid of me.”
Mitch laughed, enchanted.
Nineteen
It came as a surprise.
Suzanna hadn’t meant for it to happen so soon. She had fully intended to wait until the very last minute of his seven-day leave before allowing this Yankee suitor to kiss her for the first time.
Mitch had other ideas.
Suzanna was turning to go back inside the cottage when he reached out, clasped her elbows and drew her to him. He looked at her for a long minute, then lowered his dark head and placed the gentlest of kisses in the shadowed valley between her breasts, where the bodice of her yellow organza dress dipped into a V.
Stunned, Suzanna felt her breath catch in her throat as his mouth moved alarmingly close to the lace-trimmed edge of the low-cut neckline. She held her breath when he caught the lace in his teeth. And she shuddered involuntarily when his smooth lips brushed a warm kiss to the bare swell of her left breast.
“Mitchell Longley!” she scolded, pushing him away, hoping she sounded properly offended.
Mitch raised his head and looked at her, unsmiling. He had a slightly sullen demeanor. He gave no sign of emotion, no hint of what he might do next. But there was an air of smoldering menace about him, and Suzanna was alarmed. She didn’t really know this Union officer, and here she was alone with him in a remote cottage. If she screamed for help no one would hear her.
His hooded gaze fixed on her mouth, Mitch drew her up against him and kissed her squarely on the lips. At first Suzanna made a halfhearted attempt to pull away. But she didn’t really struggle. Mitch clasped his wrists behind her waist and continued to kiss her, very carefully, very deliberately, molding her lips to his. A surprisingly soft, nonthreatening caress that was, to her dismay, pleasing and thrilling to Suzanna.
Just when she was starting to really respond, he took his lips from hers and set her back.
“We better get going,” he said, and Suzanna could only nod, confused by his behavior. Had he not liked kissing her? Would he cancel dinner? Never want to see her again? Move on to some more experienced woman?
Mitch was quiet on the way back to her place, and Suzanna grew increasingly troubled. She had the sinking feeling that her less-than-expert kissing had left him cold, and he would turn to someone else who could better excite him. While she was an adroit flirt, she knew little about actually making love. A man like Mitch wouldn’t want to spend his brief leave with someone as obviously naive as her.
And she would have failed miserably in her assignment to captivate him and gain his trust. She would never be allowed to get close to him, would never learn those secrets that could aid the beleaguered Confederacy.
When the gig rolled to a stop before her set of rented rooms, Suzanna turned to him and asked, “Mitch, do you still want to ha
ve dinner with me this evening?”
His answer was to lean over, press a kiss to her cheek and say against her ear, “You know I do, sweetheart.” He lowered his voice to a near whisper and added, “And perhaps breakfast with you in the morning?”
She wasn’t sure how to take the remark, and gave him a reproachful look.
He laughed and winked at her.
* * *
When Mitch came to pick her up at dusk that evening, it was in a shiny black brougham with a uniformed driver atop the box. Mitch handed Suzanna into the backseat of the luxurious coach, then crawled across her and sat down close beside her.
Immediately, he reached for her hand, and she smiled at him. But when he placed her hand atop his trousered thigh and covered it with his own, her smile slipped and she felt her face flush hotly. She could feel the steely muscles bunch and pull beneath her fingers, and knew that she should quickly move her hand away. She meant to but was distracted when he put a long arm around her shoulders and said, “Kiss me, Suzanna. Kiss me just the way you kissed me at the cottage this afternoon.”
Before she could reply, his mouth covered hers. Her hand remained on his trousered leg as he urged her head back against the lush leather seat. After her initial surprise, her lips eagerly clung to his. Mitch deepened the kiss, his tongue parting her lips and sliding between her teeth. At the first touch of his tongue on hers, Suzanna’s fingers involuntarily tightened their grip on his thigh and her mouth opened a little wider. It was a passionate, prolonged kiss of the kind she had never before experienced.
She was breathless when their lips finally separated. She felt dazed and weak and hoped he wouldn’t kiss her again. She anxiously moved her hand from his leg.
“It’s quite warm this evening, isn’t it?” she said nervously.
“We could always go back to the cottage,” he suggested, a devilish gleam in his eye.
“No! Certainly not!” She shook her head for emphasis and her eyes flashed.
