Rebel Temptress (Historical Romance) (13 page)

The next morning she rose early and stood at her window and watched as Adam mounted his horse. He raised his head and gazed up at her bedroom window. Honor drew in her breath at the sadness she saw in his eyes. She knew he could not see her. As she blinked the tears from her eyes, she looked at him, most probably for the last time.

She wanted to race down the stairs and throw herself into his arms and tell him of her love for him. Would he be shocked and disgusted by her if she allowed herself to do such an outrageous thing?

Honor watched as he whirled his horse about and rode away just as the first winter snowflakes began to fall. Her heart felt heavy as she watched him until he was out of sight.

"Good-bye, my beautiful Yankee," she whispered. "I love you."

* * *

The weather was bitterly cold in the Shenandoah Valley in the year of our Lord 1864. Icy winds blew through the valley. The snow was deep as it blanketed the surrounding countryside. The rivers and creeks were frozen solid.

The war raged on, and it was becoming apparent that the Union forces were gaining in strength and were pushing the Confederate forces further south. The land was dotted with smoldering ruins and deserted homesteads. The fields were wasted. Virginia was desolation, as the Yankee General Philip Sheridan urged his troops always forward.

Jordan rode into camp, dismounted, and handed the reins of his horse to a nearby corporal. Entering his tent, he took off his hat and coat, which were covered with snow. Removing his gloves, he warmed his hands over the small portable stove. Pouring himself a liberal amount of brandy, he sat down on a camp stool wearily.

The tent flap opened, allowing a gust of icy wind to penetrate the warmth of the tent. Sergeant Casey snapped to attention.

"At ease, sergeant. What is the news?"

"You were right about the enemy, sir. They are camped just beyond the river."

"Pour yourself a glass of brandy, sergeant," Jordan told him as he studied the contents of his glass.

The older man's eyes lit up. "Thank you kindly, major. It has been a long time since I tasted good brandy."

Jordan laughed. "Pull up a stool, sergeant, and enjoy the brandy, courtesy of the Yankees. The supply train we raided had a case of the finest Napoleon Brandy. No doubt headed for Ulysses S. Grant himself. Will you object to drinking his brandy?"

The sergeant sat down and took a deep drink. "Well, my stomach might not like me drinking enemy liquor, sir, but we will just keep it a secret between ourselves. Since I joined the army, I have learned not to tell my stomach everything," Sergeant Casey said, grinning broadly. He took another drink and studied his commander's face. "There's going to be hell to pay tomorrow, sir. We got them bluebellies boxed in, with the river to their back and us to their front. They will try and fight themselves free."

"That is what I plan on, sergeant."

"Begging your pardon, major, but sometimes it seems like we survive one battle so we can fight another. I lost count of how many battles I have fought in, long ago."

"Are you married, sergeant?"

"Yes, sir. I got me a fine missus and four kids at home."

"I have a wife, sergeant. I watched her grow up, or rather growing up," he corrected. "She is still quite young."

Sergeant Casey looked amazed for a moment. For three years he had fought alongside Major Daniels. He liked and respected him, as most of the men did, but the major never let anyone get too close to him, and he never spoke of his personal life. It wasn't that he thought he was too good for them, it was that he was a very private man and kept pretty much to himself. The men who followed Major Daniels into battle counted themselves lucky to serve under him, for his judgment under fire was unfailing, and he was rarely wrong when it came to second-guessing the enemy.

"What is your missus' name, major?"

Jordan took a sip of brandy and looked at Sergeant Casey. "Her name is Honor."

"Do you have any little ones yet, sir?"

The major was quiet for so long that Casey thought he would not answer. The sergeant watched him stand up and place his brandy glass on the desk.

"No, we have no children. I want this war to be over so I can return to my wife. The longer I am away the more my thoughts are of her."

"Me and my missus have been married for fifteen years, and every day I miss her as much as the day before."

"You are fortunate, sergeant. I only had one night with Honor."

"Well, sir, that is too bad. How long has it been since you last saw her?"

"It has been over two years, sergeant."

Jordan sat down at his desk and leaned back in the chair. "Post a sentry every thirty yards tonight, sergeant," he said, bringing the conversation back to the war. "You had better see that they are relieved every two hours. It is getting colder."

Sergeant Casey drained his glass and stood up. "You think we will have any trouble out of the Yankees tonight, sir?"

"I do not think so, but it never pays to underestimate the enemy."

"You have never been one to do that, sir. Thank you for the drink. I will say good night now."

Jordan watched him leave, then he blew out the lamp and lay down on his cot. He closed his eyes, and Honor's face came to him, as it so often did now. His arms seemed to ache to hold her. Meagan no longer haunted him; the one night with Honor had slowly blocked Meagan out of his mind. He knew that he was in love with his wife, and he wished he could return to her. He had hurt her deeply, and he wanted to make things right between them.

He was able to look at Meagan objectively now. He knew her for what she was, a cold and calculating woman who used her beautiful body to obtain what she wanted.

Jordan did not spare himself. He knew he had been worse than Meagan, that he had hurt the one person in his life whom he really cared about. He prayed that she would have forgiven him by now. He had not heard from her, but the mail was not reliable. He had not heard from his parents either, and he knew they would have written.

Listening to the wind howling outside the tent, Jordan finally fell asleep.

9

Honor was restless and having trouble falling asleep. The wind blew the branches of the trees and they scraped against her bedroom window. She listened to the sound the sleet made on the rooftop. Pulling the covers tightly against her, she shivered. Noticing that the fire had gone out, she got up and placed another log in the fireplace, then hurriedly climbed back into her bed. Perhaps she was so restless because she felt so alone tonight.

Darcy had been ill for the past week, and tonight before Honor had gone to bed she had insisted that Darcy take a sleeping potion to enable her to get a good night's sleep. Poor Darcy's legs were becoming increasingly painful for her, and Honor knew that she would have to somehow convince her to slow down and take things easy for a while, though how she would accomplish that Honor had no idea.

Her mind wandered, as it always did, to Adam O'Roarke. Was he safe? Was he somewhere where he would be warm and dry tonight? It had been almost two years since she had last seen him, and anything could have happened to him in that length of time.

Honor thought of him daily and prayed for him each night, as she had promised him she would. She always included Jordan in her prayers as well, feeling guilty for loving Adam.

Surely it harmed no one for her to love Adam — Jordan did not want her love, and she would never see Adam again. One day her husband would return, and Honor wondered if he would force her to move to Green Rivers with him. She would always feel fear when she remembered her wedding night. Would Jordan wish to repeat the things he had done to her that night? Were all men like Jordan? Was Adam?

Honor tried to push her troubled thoughts out of her mind. There were enough troubles facing her right at the moment without her speculating on the future. There was the problem of putting food on the table. Meat was nonexistent, and the vegetables from the summer garden were all they had to eat.

Her mind returned to Adam. She compared the feelings she had for him to the way she had once felt about Jordan, and she realized there was no comparison. What she had felt for Jordan had been the hero worship of a young girl. What she felt for Adam was the love of a woman's heart.

She sighed and turned over on her back. One thing was sure —if she had known what married life would be like she would never have married at all. She would have been like her Aunt Amanda and remained single. She could not be sorry for the birth of Aaron, however. He was the one good thing that had come from that awful night with Jordan.

Honor turned on her side and stared out the window. It had stopped snowing and the clouds were moving away.  She could see the bright moonlight filtering into her bedroom window.

Maybe Jordan had not written her because he was a prisoner, or even dead. She could not bear that thought. Even if they did not love each other, he was Aaron's father. Sometimes she would think of him as he had been while she was growing up. He had always been good to her then. She was sure that when he married her he had done it partly out of kindness. No matter what the future held, she was his wife, and she would do all that was expected of a wife, with the exception of sharing his bed. She would never allow him to hurt and humiliate her as he had on their wedding night. She would always have the love she felt for Adam locked away in her heart, and it would get her through the uncertain future.

Honor heard a noise outside the room. It seemed to come from the hallway. She slipped out of bed and went to the nursery to check on Aaron. Seeing he was sleeping soundly, she noticed that one of his toy soldiers had fallen from the top of his wardrobe. Most probably that had been the noise she had heard. Honor pulled the covers tightly about Aaron and returned to her bedroom.

Getting under the covers quickly, she closed her eyes. She was almost asleep when she felt a hand cover her mouth. Her eyes flew open as she tried to see who the intruder was. She saw the dark figure of a man bending over her, and she tried to pull free from him.

"Do not be frightened, Honor. It is Adam O'Roarke. I am going to remove my hand from your mouth now. Do not scream, I mean you no harm." He removed his hand slowly. "Did I frighten you, Honor?"

She strained her eyes to see his face. "What are you doing here, major?" she said in a shaky voice.

"I apologize for coming into your bedroom like this, but I did not know any other way to see you."

He sat down on the bed beside her. "There is a Confederate cavalry on my trail, Honor. They may have tracked me here. I cannot stay long, I do not wish to cause you any trouble."

"Why are you here?" she asked, reaching out her hand to him, needing to touch him and know she was not dreaming.

"I have been wounded, Honor," he said weakly.

She jumped from her bed and hurriedly lit a lamp. She placed the lamp on her bedside table and turned to Adam. He tried to rise, but fell back on her bed. Honor heard his teeth chattering and felt his forehead.

"You are burning up with fever. Where were you wounded?"

He shook his head weakly. "I am sorry, Honor, I did not mean to involve you in this."

"Hush, major. Do not talk; save your strength."

"I must go. They must not find me here."

She began removing his jacket. "You are not going anywhere until I have tended your wounds."

He bit his lip in pain as she slipped the sleeve of his jacket over his arm. She could see where the bullet had entered his shoulder. His shirt was covered with blood.

"You must get out of these wet clothes, major."

Trying to sit up once more, he gritted his teeth in pain. "I should not be here. I do not want any harm to come to you."

She unbuttoned his bloodstained white shirt and carefully removed it from his good arm. She then ripped the sleeve on the side he had been wounded on, not wanting to cause him undue pain.

"Major, I am going to go downstairs to heat some water and to get my medicine kit. Do you think you can manage to remove your wet clothing while I am gone?"

Honor made her way down the stairs quietly, hoping she would encounter no one who would ask questions.

Adam managed to remove his britches and lie down on the bed. He felt his head swimming and closed his eyes. He had ridden a long way to see Honor. The rebel patrol had spotted him several hours earlier. He had ridden hard and thought he had evaded them until he felt the bullet enter his shoulder. The force of it had almost unseated him from his horse, but he had gripped the reins tightly and somehow managed to stay in the saddle. At times he had felt the enemy closing in on him. He had known his horse was tiring and that they would soon overtake him. His only thought had been that he had to see Honor before he died. That alone had given him the strength to go on. When he had been about ten miles from Landau Plantation, he knew his horse could not go much farther. Seeing a creek just ahead, he had jumped from his horse and swum to the opposite shore. The water had been cold, but that had not mattered. Nothing mattered but that he reach Honor.

He had watched the Confederates pass within inches of where he was hiding. When they were out of sight, he had risen to his feet and stumbled forward. Many times he had fallen to the ground, only to gain his feet and move on once more. The wind had been icy and his uniform was wet. It had been sleeting, and he was losing too much blood, but nothing could have stopped him in his determination to reach Honor.

For two years he had been unable to get her out of his mind. He had been called to Washington for one of those years, and, among the many parties and the beautiful women he had met there, he had been unable to forget her. When he had returned to Virginia, he had known he must try to see her. His mistake had been in being too impatient. He had known that the enemy occupied the territory around Landau Plantation, but even that had not stopped him. When he had at last reached Honor's home, he had gained entrance to the house through an unlocked window in the study.

Honor returned and found Adam lying down. He had removed his trousers and they lay in a heap on the floor beside his jacket. Adam had pulled a quilt over the lower half of his body, but his chest was bare, and Honor felt a tightening in her throat as she saw the dark curly hair on his chest that grew in a “V” shape down his stomach to disappear beneath the quilt.

Opening his eyes, Adam watched her. She had changed but little since he had last seen her, except to grow more beautiful.

She set the pan of water down on the table beside her bed and bent over him. He could smell the sweet fragrance that he always associated with her.

"The bullet is still in your shoulder, major. I am going to have to remove it."

"I am at your mercy, beautiful lady." He tried to smile, but instead grimaced in pain.

"I have nothing stronger than wine, major, but if you drink enough of it, it should dull the pain." She held the bottle to his mouth and he drank deeply.

"This is going to hurt."

"It is worth all the pain."

She cleansed the wound and then examined it, feeling relief that the bullet was not too deep.

"What is worth the pain, major?"

"You are."

She saw him grit his teeth as she probed the wound and slowly extracted the bullet. Her hands were steady, but she was shaking on the inside. She tried not to think of the pain she was causing him, and she was flooded with relief when the offending bullet was removed. After cleansing the wound once more, she applied a clean bandage.

Adam watched her through half-closed eyelids. She was cool and efficient. He felt a weakness wash over his body, and feared he would lose consciousness. Then he felt her cool hand on his forehead.

"I think your wound will heal nicely, major, but I am concerned about your fever. How long were you in wet clothing?"

"Only since I swam a creek."

"I cannot understand how you came to be here. Did you not know that this territory is controlled by our forces?"

He looked into her eyes. "Did you know that your hair is beautiful? I have never seen hair the color of yours. In the soft light it looks like water that cascades from a waterfall."

"I think you are delirious, major."

"Yes, I have been ever since I met you."

They both heard the riders coming down the driveway.

Honor looked at him fearfully. "It must be the men who are searching for you. I can think of no one else who would come here this time of night. What shall we do?"

Adam tried to sit up. "I must leave. It would not go well with you if they found me here."

Honor heard the pounding on the door. She could not let them take Adam. She set her chin stubbornly as she made her decision. Quickly pushing his discarded clothing under the bed, she gathered up the pan of water and the instruments and placed them in the bottom of her wardrobe and closed the door, looking about her to see if she had overlooked anything.

Adam watched as she removed her robe and slipped under the covers beside him.

"Honor, what are you thinking? I will not have you endangered because of me," he said weakly, knowing he was too weak even to stand up. He cursed his stupidity in coming to her if it was going to cause her trouble.

"Hush, major. You will pose as my husband, Jordan. Let us hope that none of the soldiers know Jordan personally."

Adam smiled at her weakly. "What rank is your husband?"

"He is a major like yourself."

He laughed. "At least I do not have to give myself a demotion."

"Hush, major, they are coming."

She felt his arm go about her waist as he pulled her against him. She was too stunned to react. She was very aware that he had nothing on. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she lay stiff beside him.

"Major, do you think it is neces . . ."

She felt his breath on her cheek. "Call me Jordan, Honor."

Just then the door was pushed open and two Confederate soldiers stood on the threshold.

"What is the meaning of this, corporal?" Adam's voice snapped.

"Who are you?" the young man asked, raising his rifle and aiming it at Adam.

"I am Major Jordan Daniels, and you, corporal, are intruding in my wife's bedroom. You had better have a very sound reason for the intrusion, or I will have your stripes."

The young corporal snapped to attention, as did the young private who accompanied him.

"I am Corporal Juda, sir, and I beg pardon for the intrusion. We are in pursuit of a Yankee officer who has penetrated our lines. He is wounded, major, and may be dangerous."

"Well, he is not in my bedroom, corporal, and I do not appreciate your frightening my wife."

"I apologize, ma'am," the young man said, his face blushing red. "I feel very foolish."

"What outfit are you with, and who is your commanding officer, corporal?"

Adam saw the young man's eyes widen in fear. "Never mind, soldier. I suppose you are only doing your duty. I will overlook it this time, but in the future, you should knock before coming into someone's bedroom. And never come to my home in such a manner again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir, and may I say I have heard of the major and about your bravery, sir. I once tried to receive a transfer to your unit, but was turned down. Is it true, sir, that one night you raided General Sheridan's camp and dined on the meal that had been prepared for him while it was still warm, and drank his brandy?"