by Diane Wylie
“Would you like something to eat first?”
He straightened and looked up at her hopefully. “Something more than broth? Maybe some meat?”
“Yes, if you think you can handle it?”
He grinned at her happily. “Lead me to it!” Things were definitely improving.
* * *
Jenny stared out the window of her darkened bedroom. She sat on the velvet-covered window seat, huddled in her nightgown and robe, hugging her knees. The snow was falling in large, wet flakes that flung themselves against the windowpane and slid down leaving small, wet trails of moisture.
Papa had forgiven her for what he thought she did wrong, for coming home unescorted from the friend’s house she had lied about visiting. If only she could forgive herself. The lying, sneaking around, and stealing clothing and food from Papa was taking its toll on her conscience. For all that she loved Captain Reynolds and longed to be with him even now, the guilt of all this deception and—horror of horrors—murder—were weighing heavily on her shoulders.
I will not go to him tonight. He was strong enough now that he did not need her quite so often. Besides, Kizzie was looking after him nicely. The storm was too bad to venture out anyway. Her tracks in the snow might be seen in the light of day and questioned. Why was the mistress going to the slave quarters at night? No, she told herself, there was too much risk tonight. Tonight she would get a full night’s sleep in her own warm bed for the first time since she had found him.
Reaching down, she gave Rommie a good scratch behind the ears and sighed. This was getting ridiculous. She couldn’t think of anything else but that infernal, wonderful man. What she needed was some distance. It would be best to stay away from him for as long as she could. Let him heal without her for a time. He wouldn’t leave this time without Jenny knowing about it. Kizzie, Madeline, Luther, and the others were there and would let her know if he tried to leave. There had to be a way to forget him, to get him out of her mind.
Rising from the window seat, she made her way in the dark back to her bed. She pulled the thick, down-filled quilts up to her chin and reveled in the soft warmth then closed her eyes to sleep. David’s face hovered behind her closed eyelids. She saw him so clearly. The light in his deep green eyes when he looked at her, his beautiful smile, and those wonderful dimples that appeared on either side of his sensual mouth when he smiled. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen.
Thinking back, she realized with surprise that she had only known this damn Yankee for ten days, and she had fallen head over heels in love. Why? What made her grow to love him when she had never felt this way for any of the young men she had known before? What was it about him? He was handsome, but so were many of the Southern young men she knew—they were all off to war now, she thought sadly. Did he shoot any of her friends? Dear God, she hoped not.
David Reynolds. What was it about him? Despite everything he had been through, he had never been anything but kind and considerate to her. That counted for something.
Even in his fevered delirium he did not become violent or overly harsh. That was something she had not expected. He was a soldier. He had commanded men for more than a year, killed them, and had seen them die. She had expected to see him show some bitterness or perhaps to see some mean-spirited personality come out when his mind was unaware of conscious restraint. During his illness he had ranted incoherently at times. But he had never seemed hostile. Much of what he had said seemed to have been commands to his men or anguished conversations with his now-departed friend, Jack.
But he was better now, she remembered with a smile, and she didn’t think that he remembered much of anything that had happened while he was in the worst of his sickness. She said a prayer of thanks for that. How grateful she was to have found him and grateful to God for this chance to get to know him, even though he would be leaving soon.
Would she ever see him again after this? If she didn’t, would she ever know such love again?
Fluffing her pillow, she nestled down deeper in the bed. Her secret soldier would love the apple pie she had to bring him when the snow allowed her to go back to Kizzie’s cabin. Patsy had baked several pies from the store of dried apples that she, Cordelia, and Jenny had prepared in the fall. Now one pie was hidden away, just for David, in her large armoire.
A smile stole over her face when she pictured his delight. The man had lost too much weight during his illness and had only now developed an appetite. If she could feed him well, for as long as he would stay, she was sure his strength would return that much faster.
Finally she began to feel her body and mind relax toward sleep. Vaguely she wondered if there was any way that they could have any happiness together for longer than a few more days. David was a man of honor and devoted to his men in the cavalry. He would return to the army and the war as soon as he was able. When that happened, Jennifer feared she would likely lose him forever.
Chapter Eleven
The snow sparkled crisp and clean in the bright moonlit night as David lifted the oilskin to peer out across the fields to the manor house. Its windows were lit with welcoming candles that made him yearn to go inside. It was easy to imagine Jenny and her family going about their business, warm inside the big house. He had not seen her for two long, boring days as the storm raged outside the tiny cabin and he lay abed, sleeping most of the time.
The crunch of footsteps on the snow, and the dog’s excited bark warned him of a visitor. Taking up a cane, he hobbled a few steps away from the bed near the fire and stood with his back against the wall for support. He wanted so badly to greet Jenny standing on his own two feet for once.
According to Jebediah, who was frequently in the manor house, Mr. Phillips had stopped questioning his daughter about her time away from home, and everything seemed to be back to normal for them. Breathing in tight, shallow breaths, he realized his heart was pounding in anticipation. How was he to stand it when the time came to leave her?
The door to the cabin swung open, letting in a blast of frigid air. A cloaked figure stepped in, arms laden with bundles. She raised her head, and the hood fell back from that wondrous, honey-colored hair. The smile suddenly froze on her face, and fear flickered across it when her gaze fell on the empty bed.
She thinks I’m gone, David realized with a start, and he stepped out of the shadows quickly to make his presence known.
“Over here, Jenny,” he called softly.
“Oh!” She breathed a sigh of relief, and her face lit up at the sight of him. A step closer, then two, then she set the bundles hastily on the table and was in his outstretched arms.
He bent his head and rested his cheek on her silky hair. How wonderful she smelled—of fresh air and lilac soap. His hand came up of its own accord and buried itself in the shining mass. It was the first time he had seen her with her hair loose and flowing about her shoulders. His insides melted when she tilted her head back to look at him and put her gloved hands on his freshly-shaven cheeks. Gently she pulled him down for a kiss that sent hot desire flooding through his entire body.
“You’re very tall, Captain Reynolds,” she said against his chest.
He stroked her hair, her back, her arm, anything he could touch. “What?”
“I said that you are very tall,” she repeated.
“All of the Reynolds men are six foot or more,” he mumbled into her hair.
She pulled back to look at his face again. He almost stopped breathing. The firelight touched her cheeks with rosy softness. She was beautiful, more beautiful that he had thought before. Her gaze raked the length of him, and he realized what a disreputable sight he was in the too-small shirt, tattered uniform trousers, and bare feet.
Hot shame flooded his face. He was a college graduate, the son of a moderately wealthy man and a respected captain in the U.S. cavalry, but he looked like a common ruffian next to this lady of obvious breeding. Jenny’s cloak was fur-lined dark wool, and under it he could see that her gown was made of a rich-looking
dark green material that he could not name.
“Your leg is doing better?” she asked in that soft Southern drawl.
“Yes, much better.”
Her hand laced through his in a way he thought intimate. She pulled him toward the fire.
“Come. I have food for you. Sit and rest. It will do no good to tax your strength too soon.”
“I have been doing little else but sleeping,” he protested but allowed himself to be led to the chair and sat with his leg outstretched stiffly.
Releasing his hand, Jenny went to retrieve the things she had brought and bustled around preparing and serving the thick, rich stew, and biscuits with strong, hot, chicory coffee. David ate with relish. Everything seemed to taste better, look better, and feel better when she was here with him. He barely noticed the ever-present ache in his leg or the soreness of his flayed back under the rough linen shirt.
* * *
Jenny watched the captain with a rising sense of disquietude. He was stirring her blood in ways she had never experienced before meeting him. All of this time they had spent together he had remained the gentleman, never doing more than kissing her lightly and touching her arm or shoulder in a most restrained way—never in an unseemly manner. It was she who had been the forward one. She who burned to see him naked again as she had when he had been so ill—too ill to stop her from stripping the poor man naked like some wanton hussy.
Her face burned again when she looked at him. More than just a handsome, well-made man, David Reynolds was smart, kind, gentle, considerate, and honorable. Now she was about to ask him something that would once again call her own morals into question. But she had a good reason, she told herself. She had to do this before he left to rejoin his army—the enemy army that could execute him for desertion, and she would never know.
A sob welled up in her chest and almost escaped when that thought occurred. Battle…he could die in battle as well. No one would ever come to tell Jennifer Winston, Confederate civilian, about the loss of a Federal cavalry captain. Taking a deep breath she composed herself and plunged in.
“David?”
He looked up, spoon poised partway to his mouth. Left-handed. He was left-handed. Somehow that simple fact endeared him to her even more. Few people were left-handed. Often children were on the receiving end of abuse by stern schoolmasters for using their left hand, and so they gave it up in favor of their right hand. She had heard that teachers tied the left hand behind a child’s back to prevent them from using it. She wondered if he had suffered because of it. But he had obviously persevered and continued to use his dominant hand.
A dark brow lifted and his green eyes looked at her questioningly.
“Would you remove your trousers for me, please?” she asked sweetly.
The spoon dropped into the bowl with a clatter.
“Pardon me?”
“I asked you to remove your uniform trousers for me.”
“Jenny, what are you saying?” David asked incredulously.
With a smile she said, “I just want to try to mend them for you.” She composed her face in an expression of angelic innocence.
He looked at her suspiciously. “All right, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to finish eating first.”
“Of course. I did not mean to imply otherwise. I have a surprise for you when you are done with that stew.”
Picking up the spoon, he continued to eat, but he seemed distracted. He stared into the fire, paying no attention to her. Oh, but she was ever so agonizingly aware of him!
Jenny retrieved her special treat from her bundles, stealing glances at him all the while. How she wished that things were different. If only there were no war, no animosities between North and South. If she could have chanced to meet David at a party or ball somewhere and her father had had a chance to see what a good man he was…
“Look what I brought for you!” She held the fragrant, golden-crusted pie in front of his face. He looked up at her in surprise and grinned, making his eyes twinkle in a most attractive manner.
“This is your surprise, Jenny?”
“Yes,” she answered proudly. “I smuggled it away right out from under Patsy’s nose. Here.” She placed the pie in his hand and handed him a fork.
“Shouldn’t I cut a slice for each of us?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head emphatically. “The whole pie is for you. You have grown so thin, and you need to regain your strength. Besides, I can always get some at home. Patsy made several. This one won’t be missed.”
“Oh! This is wonderful,” he mumbled, closing his eyes.
She clapped her hands and laughed. “Oh, I knew you would like it!”
He was chewing with eyes closed and such a winsome expression on his face that Jenny could bear it no longer. Gently placing her hands on his cheeks, she bent down and kissed him softly, hesitantly, afraid of what he would think of her. Apparently David needed no further encouragement. Placing the pie tin on the table, he reached for her with both arms, pulling her onto his lap.
His mouth was sweet and warm, tasting of apples and cinnamon. She felt an unfamiliar, but thrilling sensation when his tongue darted into her mouth, probing, but gentle. He made her senses come alive. Her skin was so sensitive that her clothing was suddenly extremely restrictive. Reaching up, she unbuttoned the top button of her high-necked dress so she could breathe. An urge to remove every scrap of her clothing jumped into her head. She was shocked at herself. Not only did she want to take off all her clothing, but she wanted the captain naked as well. It was outrageous that she should have such thoughts! Jenny opened her eyes and pulled away.
He opened his arms and let her go. When she got the courage to turn around and look at him, she wanted to burst into tears at the combination of love, remorse, and confusion on his face.
“Are you all right? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take advantage of you like that.” David said quietly.
The delicious sensation of his kiss lingered in her mind, torturing her immensely. It just felt so right, so wonderful, and oh, so thrilling! Rubbing her moist palms on her skirt and tearing her eyes away from his lips, she moved away from him and began to tidy up from the meal.
“I’m fine. Y-You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Her hands shook when she reached for the empty stew bowl, and she avoided his gaze. Turning her back to him, she busied herself cleaning up.
She was so intent on her own thoughts that she didn’t hear him struggle to his feet and limp up behind her. His nearness suddenly made the hairs on the back of her neck tingle in anticipation and fear—not of him—but of what would happen next.
A pair of muscular arms in too-short sleeves wrapped themselves around her shoulders, his head rested against the back of hers. She froze in place, the bowl still in her hand.
“Please, Jennifer, don’t close yourself off to me. Please don’t pull away. You mean so much to me. I couldn’t bear it if you shut me out, just when I’m getting to know you. I didn’t mean to press you. I know that I am a Yankee and so…”
Putting the bowl on the table, Jenny put her hands over his. She stroked the back of his hands, feeling the length of his fingers and the ridges of his knuckles, rough with healing cuts and scrapes.
“Forgive me, David. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act,” her voice was low and hesitant. “I do like being with you…too much, I’m afraid,” she whispered.
Putting his hands on her shoulders, he gently turned her to face him. Cupping her chin in his hand, he tilted her head up to meet his gaze.
David’s hands were callused from hour after hour spent gripping the reins of his cavalry horse and the hard work a soldier’s life demanded. His rough thumb gently ran along her jaw line, but surprisingly, she liked the feel of it. The caring tenderness in his touch nearly made her knees buckle. Then he smiled at her—that special smile that made his eyes crinkle in the corners, lighting up his face with radiance—and she had to steady herself with her hands on his wais
t to keep from falling to the floor.
“So you feel it, too, this attraction between us?”
“Yes,” she breathed, wishing he would kiss her again and praying he would not. “I wish I didn’t,” Jenny answered slowly. “I know you’ll be leaving soon. I…I know that your Union army is camped at Brandy Station. Papa told me that they are building structures there, so it looks like they will be staying there for some time, maybe the whole winter.”
She looked up at him hopefully. “Perhaps you could stay here a little longer since you know they will be there for a while? How can I bear it if I never see you again?”
A bitter laugh rumbled in David’s chest. “It is all so ironic, is it not? For my whole life I have been searching for some little slice of happiness in this world, and now that I have found it in you, I have to leave you behind.” A few low, fierce curses erupted, startling her with his intensity.
“I’m sorry. I have been with the army too long. Been around only men for too long. I forget myself and my manners…it’s just that—”
He shuddered and pulled her to him tightly, kissing her mouth with hard, demanding lips. Jenny knew his frustration, and her body grew hot with the warmth of a thousand candles in response to his kiss. His hands were fisted in her hair then on her neck rubbing and caressing her skin. Now his hands seemed to be moving all over, touching, and exploring her body through her clothing.
Pushing her hands between their closely pressed bodies, she found herself unbuttoning the shirt he wore. She was seized by an overwhelming desire to touch him, to touch the soft hair on his chest and run her fingers over the hard swell of muscles and sleek, warm skin. Sighing, she gave into those desires, closing her eyes at the pleasure of it as she felt the coarseness of the hair that gathered to a v-shape down his flat stomach and disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. He sucked in a shuddering breath and went still.
“Open your eyes, Jenny.” His voice was gentle but firm. She did as he requested and looked up to his handsome face. He was clean shaven tonight, and her hand went up of its own accord to trace the smooth edge of his jaw. “Do you want this? Just tell me now before I can’t stop myself…I…it has been a long time.”
