Romancing the Rogue (205 page)

I relaxed when they smiled at Amelia and called
good day, ladies.
I couldn’t help but compare their blue uniforms with the much thinner gray one that Grayson had worn. I wondered vaguely if the entirety of the armies were clad in such wear. How the Rebels must have frozen during the winter.

Two more Union soldiers passed us, and slowed as if wanting to speak to me. I hurriedly looked away, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. We were across the street from the restaurant and I could see Grayson seated at a table near the window, watching the people as they walked by. My breath caught when my gaze landed on the occupants of the three surrounding tables. More than a dozen men in Federal uniforms sat eating their meals, oblivious of the southern soldier sitting right in their midst.

I grabbed Amelia’s hand and pulled her closer to my side. I couldn’t keep my hands from shaking as we entered the building and the smell of cooking potatoes turned my stomach, bile backing up into my throat.

Grayson stood as we approached the table, an intimate smile on his face. His countenance betrayed no sign of nervousness and I wondered if he were that adept at hiding his feelings. If so, I envied him, no more so than now. Could the other diners see how my insides were twisting? Amelia remained somewhat subdued as she sat in the chair Grayson indicated. Grayson pulled the chair nearest his out and guided me down into it with an insistent hand on my forearm. I murmured a nervous thank you, and he squeezed my arm, his touch reassuring. A lady soon arrived with three steaming plates of food and settled them in front of us. Grayson waited until she was gone before speaking. “Did you manage to secure lodgings? I was beginning to get a little worried.”

“It took longer than expected to find a suitable establishment.” I pushed a bite of candied sweet potatoes around on the white dinnerware, too apprehensive to enjoy the excellent blend of nutmeg and spice seasoning the dish. Grayson apparently suffered no such qualms
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he devoured the simple fair, a meatloaf with green beans and the sweet potatoes. He had buttered a large roll and closed his eyes in pleasure as he took a large bite. I smiled at his enjoyment, and he smiled back, a shared moment private to the two of us.

“The train departs tomorrow morning at ten.” My momentary pleasure faded as quickly as it arrived. Amelia and I would head north, in search of Rachel and in search of a new life.

We finished the remainder of our meal in near silence; after all, what could we talk about in the midst of so many enemy soldiers? I offered Amelia the remainder of my roll and when she declined, I handed it to Grayson without thought, an offering he eagerly accepted. One thing I had learned about the man during the journey was he sure could eat!

After finishing our dinner, Grayson paid the tab and made small talk with the proprietress, once again reiterating the story of our journey toward Detroit and the deserters who were responsible for the bruising on both his and my cheeks. I had nearly forgotten the markings, the scratch from the gold ring my uncle wore and the now blue and green mark from his fist. No wonder people had looked at me
strangely when passing me and Amelia on the street¯I hardly looked respectable at all, and Grayson looked much worse.

Amelia led the way to the night’s lodgings, not skipping as she had earlier. I wondered at her frame of mind, what she was thinking so heavily about. The silence was awkward and I longed for her bright chatter to dispel it, but she was silent.

Though this wasn’t the first night I had spent in a hotel with the soldier I was still becoming increasingly anxious, remembering what had happened on our previous occasion. What was he expecting? Where would he sleep? The inn I had chosen for tonight was much smaller than the earlier one, with only the cheaply made bed, thinner and older than the elegant furniture of last evening and we would be lodged closely together.

The skin over my stomach heated, just below my breasts, where his arm had rested so many hours earlier¯a remembered heat unlike any I had ever felt. If we were to all three share the bed, I would have to occupy the center space and wou
ld be flush against his body again. Perspiration began to pool along my hairline, yet chills rose on my arms. Could I endure another night pressed so tightly against him?

Grayson escorted us to the hotel, and after obtaining the room number bid Amelia and I to prepare for the evening’s rest. Amelia asked where he was going, surprised, but was mollified with his answer. He was headed to the stables to check that preparations for the loading of the animals onto the train tomorrow had been made.

I was grateful for the reprieve and hurried Amelia through her washing up. We had decided to forgo the baths this evening, instead planning a longer washing in the morning before the departing. We did not know how long the trip to the capitol would take us and wanted to remain clean as long as possible. Amelia was asleep long before I finished my own toiletry, and I was surprised and flabbergasted when I saw that she had pulled a quilt from a wardrobe and had made herself a small bed near the hearth once again. It wasn’t but a few moments before soft snoring echoed through the room.

After brushing my hair until it gleamed in the weak firelight, I began to plait it into two long braids. Eying the bed and its patched quilt, I was too restless, too nervous, to settle in comfortably, but I felt that it would be more prudent to be asleep
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or at least pretending
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when Grayson returned to the room.

I heard the latch to the door click and my breath caught. I quietly and deliberately forced it out, watching through narrowed eyes as he removed his outer garments, leaving only his undergarment
s visible. He stretched; his shoulders and joints popped, echoing through the silent room. Though I was occupying the middle of the bed¯a predicament I hadn’t noticed until just then¯he rounded the bed and placed himself on the side closest to the door. I
shut my eyes tightly as I felt the bed dip beneath his weight. He pulled the quilt up over his waist and settled onto the thin pillow, his head so close to mine that his exhalations disturbed the loose curls near my brow. He had to have felt me trembling, for I was sure the whole bed was shaking, but he made no comment.

My breath caught in my throat as his fingers began to toy with the end of one braid, so perilously close to my breast. He laughed, that same particular sound he had made earlier by the stream when I had been bathing. This time, though, it didn’t anger me as it had then. This time it sent the strangest shivers running down my spine.

I waited for what seemed like hours, breath caught in the back of my throat, for him to make another move¯try to
wake me, to roll on his side, anything. When nothing happened I opened my eyes partially and released a sigh. He lay on his stomach with his arms wrapped around his pillow and appeared sound asleep. I lay silently for several hours pondering all the events of the past several days, and what changes those events had wrought within me. I said a quick prayer, asking for help and guidance, as I was unsure of whom I was becoming, then finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

I woke early the next morning with my head pillowed on the soft cotton of his undershirt. His arm tightened around my waist, and my gaze flew to his face. When he made no further movement or sound, I relaxed somewhat.

Amelia was beginning to waken, so I slid out of Grayson’s arms. My lips tingled as my mind recalled his late night kisses, how hot and soft his lips had been. I hadn’t wanted him to stop but now I was glad he had.

He had wakened me from a sound sleep, his arms tight around me and his lips pressed so firmly against mine. I asked myself yet again if I were on my way to becoming a loose woman, and I didn’t like the answer.

I ordered Amelia to dress as I began washing my hair in the porcelain basin. I wanted to be clean for our journey and my hair was a tangled mess. I rinsed it with the lavender-scented water then dried it with the thick white towel the hotel had provided. By the time I was finished Grayson was awake and had completed his own dressing. Amelia had left the room several minutes before, wanting to give Grayson some semblance of privacy as he dressed.

“Grayson?” I set the comb down on the dresser and turned to him, once more noticing how the color of his shirt only deepened that of his eyes. He had such beautiful eyes. He finished buttoning the last snap under his now freshly-shaven chin. “Are you sure this is a good plan?”

“No, but it’s the only option we have available. The train is the safest way for you and Amelia to travel.

“I know, but what about you? Can’t you stay with us? Just a little longer?” What was I doing? I sounded so needy that shame hit my heart.

“Olivia...” Impatience tinged his tone and I felt a small tug of guilt and regret for prevailing upon him. “Do you think I like this? Sending you and Amelia up to one of the worst cities I have ever heard of? Frankly, you’re ill-equipped to handle Chicago
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any city really. You’re too trusting, too naïve, too sweet and beautiful to go alone, and it eats at my very insides to know that you won’t have any protection once you get there. I hate it!” He slammed his fist down on the end table and the lamp wobbled precariously; I started, the move was so lightning quick.

“But...” I tried to interject, tell him that surely one more week wouldn’t matter. It was selfish of me, and I knew it.

“No. Olivia. Enough.” He spun from me and pulled his belongings into a neat little bundle before tucking them under his arm. “There is no choice in the matter. Hurry yourself. We’ll need to leave here within the hour.”

After he stormed out the door I lowered my head and for the first time since our ordeal began I began to cry softly.

I sat there for several moments, letting the tears fall unchecked as I contemplated the fact that I would never see him again. I didn't love him, but I didn't want to part from him. I did not understand it.

I was just wiping my face with a small towel when the door opened again. I dropped the towel, not wanting to have to explain my tears to Amelia.

It wasn’t my sister standing there
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Grayson’s face was naked with emotion. He reached out a hand toward me, touching the curl by my ear before running his fingers through my hair. He whispered his apology before pulling me to his chest. He smelled so good, that faintly spicy scent I had come to associate with only him.

“I’m so frightened.” I told him, for once not caring if he thought less of me for not being brave. I was frightened. I didn’t want to go to the city
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I had never been to a city and from what I heard they were dirty and hard and terrifying.

“I know.” He lifted my chin with one gentle finger, before lowering his lips to mine. It wasn’t like his previous kisses. This was a soft embrace, comforting even, and I pressed my own lips to his in return. I clung to him, not wanting him to ever let me go. I felt safe with him, protected in his arms. He deepened the kiss and I locked my hands behind his neck, enjoying being so close to him.

“Oh!” At Amelia’s voice behind me, Grayson pulled back and I turned away with shame filling my heart.

Grayson excused himself, stating only that he would meet us at the stables. We had a three hour ride to the next town and the train depot
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three more hours until we said our ‘farewells’.

I gave Amelia my fiercest look as soon as he left the room, daring her to say something. I wasn’t ready for explanations yet. Giving the hotel room one last perusal, I checked that our every belonging was packed. Finally, all was in order and Amelia and I bade
adieu
to the proprietress, returning the room key. As we walked to the stables it began to rain the finest of mists.

My mood echoed the dismal weather and Amelia must have sensed my turmoil for she refrained from speech.

Grayson was waiting with all three horses saddled and ready. The light rain had darkened his hair and caused the thick locks to curl boyishly over his brow. “Ready?”

I nodded, not wanting to speak. I didn’t want to talk about what was to happen
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speaking of our parting would make it more real. Grayson must have understood this; he grabbed my arm and squeezed gently. I looked at him, sure my feelings must be plain on my face for all to see.

Amelia mounted Sally, taking the reins from Grayson when he handed them to her. Fran whickered a greeting when I rubbed her soft muzzle. I worried briefly how she and Sally would fare on the train ride
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also their first. They were to be confined in one of the stable cars at the end of the train.

Grayson motioned me closer to the horse, indicating I should prepare to mount. I grabbed the saddle horn. After the last few days I felt I had become something of an expert at mounting a horse
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if nothing else. This time, I didn’t get the chance; Grayson’s strong hands wrapped about my middle and lifted me onto the seat. His left hand lingered, resting momentarily on my hip.

He turned away, no hurry in his movements, mounting his own horse. I couldn’t get over the transformation of the General. He had become a whole new animal in the last half-week. Grayson was a wonder with the beast. Of course, unlike my uncle, Grayson never employed a whip against the horse, was wholly affectionate but firm in manner with the animal. He had gentled the volatile gelding with his touch alone.

The climate changed as we rode out of the town, headed north. It became slightly warmer and the rain tapered off. We were quiet for several moments, with only the sound of the horses disturbing the silence.

“Do you have your sister’s direction in Chicago?” Grayson pulled General up alongside Fran and motioned for Amelia to ride ahead.

“I did, but I left it that night. I never planned on coming along.” I hadn’t given much thought to how we would find Rachel once we reached our destination city.

“What do you remember of it?” Grayson frowned and I could see the worry reflected on his face.

“I know Gideon’s uncle’s name.” I thought a moment. “I also know he is a printer. Gideon often spent time with the newspaperman in town. Everyone knew his uncle was a printer in Chicago.”