Dream Shadow (11 page)

“We’re good company tonight,” she observed.

“Yeah.”

Chapter Five

“Brice just might be on to something. You do look good in a skirt.”

“Even Muslim women don’t wear this many layers of clothing.” Grace considered Jacobs’s set features. “What game are you playing?”

“Civil War historical re-enactment. I hear it’s a great way to unwind.”

Dressed from head to toe in blue wool, Jacobs was a prime picture of Union Army correctness. Just where the man had managed to obtain the historical uniform was a mystery, but his source was responsible for her attire as well.

The underclothing alone covered as much of her body as her standard fatigues did. On top of the chemise and bloomers, a stiffly boned corset was laced into place. She didn’t have to be a psychic to notice just how much fun Jacobs had tugging the laces tight. A long full skirt, blouse and wool jacket completed the ensemble, making her grateful for the cool weather.

“What happened to keeping a low profile?”

Jacobs shrugged. “Everyone needs some down time.”

“Turvel agreed to this?” Part of her was very interested to know the answer.

“He gave me permission to remain in the area.”

The hope that had flared up inside her died. It actually writhed before surrendering to hard reality. The desire to see Brice again was being smothered by the reality that she was only borrowing time.

But part of her just didn’t give a damn about the consequences.

Grace stepped on the hem of the skirt, or maybe it was the petticoat, twice before she even got into the truck.

Yes, sir, it was going to be a long day.

The one piece of the outfit that Grace truly loved was the jacket. It was the most amazing piece of art she had ever seen. It was made of soft gray wool, but what amazed her was the tiny black and green cord that was stitched down into patterns on it. Someone had spent hours of loving work on it and Grace felt privileged to wear it. She had never felt that way before about a piece of clothing.

The parking lot was full of excitement as people ditched their modern clothing and finished transforming into Civil War re-enactors. There were hoops and corsets and bonnets. Jacobs retrieved his last piece of costume from the truck bed. It was a wool felt hat in Union blue.

“Brice better bring a shotgun if he hopes to keep you for himself.” Jacobs pointed in the direction the rest of the group was heading. “Safety class in five.”

She walked along beside him, blending into the streams of people lining up on what would become the mock battlefield. The men went down farther as the women skirted to the sides. Grace found herself with them and for once not under close guard.

It was amazing in a way, to just be one of the group. It was a façade of course. Jacobs would never leave her back exposed.

A man on horseback was off to the side of the field. He raised his sword and lowered it in the early morning sunlight. The deafening sound of three hundred rifles discharging cracked the air. Smoke clouds rose up among the men on the field. The sword rose again and the eight cannons fired off next.

The class seemed to be over, but the men weren’t leaving the field. The officer atop the horse kneed the animal forward to address the assembled men. There was enough brass sitting on the man’s shoulders to almost blind her. All the men on the field raised their right hands and repeated the five rules of conduct for the weekend. Grace found the rules highly amusing. Among them was the rule that everybody had to be friendly and play nice together.

Grace wandered down to the camp area. She decided she was improving her walking skills. She only tripped once.

The upper field was considered the Northern camp. They were in blue so that made them Yankees. There was a good deal of activity here. Women were cooking over open-fire pits. The women were, for the most part, dressed exactly as she was, yet they bent and walked without any effort. Several smiled, calling out greetings to her as she walked among them.

Beside the fire pits there were rows of tiny, one-room cabins built into the mountainside. Below the more permanent structures, there sat almost a hundred canvas tents. Many were lying on the ground waiting for the men to return before they were raised.

Children ran about with wooden toys and cloth rag dolls. The little boys sported knickers, while the girls dashed about wearing long calico dresses. The smells of breakfast started to drift with the breeze. She could see why this would appeal to people. You could step out of the modern world and its stresses while you were here. There was an air of acceptance and community. The camp was beginning to be overrun by blue coats. Any woman who had hot coffee became an instant point of congregation.

“Good morning, Ms. Grace. It sure is a pleasure to see you today.” That deep tone was instantly recognizable. Grace turned to find Brice standing not more than two feet behind her. Her mind simply went blank. It should have been against the law for a man to look quite that good in a costume.

Brice took advantage of her lack of response to capture her slim hand and carry it to his lips for a soft kiss. The contact of their flesh impacted her and she pulled her hand from his grip.

Grace slowly took in the sight before her. The dark blue wool molded to his frame with precise care. The length of crimson that she had seen at his home was in fact a sash that was wound about his waist. Lean hips tapered into strong legs. The pants were different from Jacobs’s. These pants had patches on the inner thigh area.
For riding
, she thought. That meant he had a horse here. She brought her eyes back to his face. His brown eyes had been watching her assessment of him, and he seemed to approve of her looking him over. He locked stares with her for a moment before he slowly returned the favor. With absolute dread, Grace felt a blush burn her cheeks.

“Do you care for stallions, Ms. Grace?”

The blush deepened to beet red. Grace thought she heard him laugh under his breath, but was too busy trying to regain her emotional balance to know for certain. Before she could form a good answer, Brice reached for her hand again. This time he placed it on the inside of his arm as he started to escort her down the hill.

“Jacobs is over at the corral. I told him I’d bring you over.”

Spending some down time with him was one thing, but she wasn’t ready to stroll arm in arm with him. She extracted her hand from his arm and firmly folded her hands together in front of her.

“That’s just fine if you don’t want to take my arm. Of course, it’ll just announce to all the other men here that you’re available.”

Grace shot her arm out so fast he missed a step. She curled her fingers lightly over the bulge of his biceps.

He chuckled softly.

“Don’t celebrate too long, Sheriff Campbell.”

He cut her a sidelong glance before reaching up to touch the brim of his hat as they passed several ladies. “Don’t be a dark storm cloud, Ms. Grace.”

“Or you’ll do what?” She was playing with fire but couldn’t seem to return to being detached.

“Kiss you until you purr
…
again.”

She tripped.

His warm hand clasped hers to his forearm to steady her. The man just caused her emotions to go haywire. Memory was painfully clear. The flesh between her thighs began to pulse in response to his scent.

They crested the rise and the horse corral came into view. There were dozens of horses and Brice steered her through the maze of people and animals. Brice kept moving until they’d climbed yet another rise. Below them sat five corrals. All were spaced out from each other.

“The stallions,” Brice informed her.

Grace ran her gaze over the magnificent creatures. They tossed their heads and pawed at the air, daring anyone to ride them. A huge black one caught her eye and she recognized the animal instantly. The painting hanging in Brice’s dining room captured the creature’s likeness exactly.

Somehow the idea that this man didn’t ride a more tame horse made her tremble. He was strong, very strong, and very basic. Just like the black stallion that he chose to ride. Her eyes locked onto the coal-black creature. Its likeness had been captivating, the reality was spellbinding.

Brice kept them on a steady course that led to the stallion’s corral. “That’s Cole.”

Jacobs had a boot propped on the rail of the corral and was watching the black beast intently. Brice issued a high-pitched whistle and the horse tossed his head and reared up onto his hindquarters. Brice lifted her hand from his arm and carried it to his lips once again. This time he lingered over the kiss. The slow burn of a blush worked its way up her face again. Those brown eyes pinned her with an intent that was more threat than promise.

“You are a little arrogant,” she accused softly before twisting her hand out of his grip.

“And you are stubborn,” Brice countered.

Jacobs was silently watching them both and it grated on her nerves.

“Well now, since we’re all just here to have a little down time. I guess I’ll take myself off to where the women are. I certainly wouldn’t want to appear out of place,” she delivered smoothly before turning around with a swish of her skirt.

Brice watched the angry sway of her skirt as she all but ran back up the hill. His body was acutely aware of her, even as she was placing distance between them.

“Maybe I should mention the fact that Grace gets a little…violent when men hit on her,” Jacobs informed Brice. “You might have noticed that the night you two were introduced.”

Jacobs’s look was lost as Brice jumped the corral fence. He held a gloved hand out and Cole nuzzled into his master’s hand. He pulled a saddle from the fence and began strapping it onto the stallion.

“Well, I hear some girls like that sort of thing.”

“Ah ha.” Pulling his hand over his jaw, Jacobs settled his feet under him, bringing his body to its full height. “Consider yourself warned, I’m not going to search her just to save your hide. This was your idea.”

“You didn’t have a better one,” Brice shot back. “But if you mean to imply that Grace would need a weapon to injure me, I’m going to be sorely disappointed in her skills.”

“Breaking some of your bones she can manage bare handed,” Jacobs clarified. “She’ll need a weapon to kill you.”

“Thanks for the compliment.”

“That was a warning, Brice.”

Swinging up into the saddle, Brice locked gazes with the major. “Take a hike, Jacobs.”

Digging his heels into the stallion, Brice cleared the fence in one long-legged jump. Jacobs watched the other man’s sure command of the animal.

“A really long hike. She’s not your sister and she’s not underage. Three’s a crowd.”

“All right, you’ve got a point.” Jacobs rolled his shoulders. “I’m going to take a walk.”

“You’re wasting your time.” It wasn’t that the woman who issued that wanted to be overheard. Her close proximity caused it to happen. A flustered man stepped directly into her path, forcing her to either stop or collide with him.

“Now, Beth, just let me explain.”

“There is nothing to explain,” she informed him. “Maybe Wendy doesn’t mind sharing her man, but I do.”

Hooking her hands back into the handles of a huge basket, the girl set her feet to walking around her unwanted companion. She raised her head high as she dismissed his presence.

“You are going to marry me, Beth.”

She dropped her basket to the ground with a thud as she got into her companion’s face.

“I guess I must have missed the part where you
asked
me to marry you!” She planted her right hand in the center of his chest as she shoved him away. The picture was actually funny. The woman called Beth stood a good two inches above her unwanted company. The man wasn’t short, but she stood at six feet with a head of auburn hair to accentuate it. “Don’t waste your breath.”

She bent over to retrieve her basket again, giving Jacobs a tempting look at her bottom. She wasn’t some tiny female that he’d be worried about breaking. Her body was full of feminine curves in all the right places.

Her would-be boyfriend did as he was instructed. He didn’t waste his breath. Instead, he pulled her forward by her forearms and planted his mouth over hers. The basket hit the ground again as she lashed out at the unwanted attention. The boy joined the basket as Beth used her greater size to extract her body from his embrace. Rage contorted the man’s face as he climbed to his feet.

“You’re a cold bitch!”

Moving in front of her, Jacobs neatly cut off the man’s attempt at revenge. While his eyes mirrored rage, common sense overruled his impulses. He flung a last glare at Beth before stalking off. A stifled sound of frustration came from Beth before she bent down for her basket once again. Jacobs snagged it from the ground before her fingers made contact.

“You seem to keep dropping this,” he offered softly.

Her eyes widened as she had to tip her head back to look into his eyes. There was a flare of interest in her deep blue eyes but she covered it quickly.

“It’s an allergic reaction to men being too close to me.”