Triumph (16 page)

“Charge!” Sean called from his rocking horse. “Charge!”

Ariana smiled angelically at Tia and closed her blue eyes. Tia kept rocking. The door to the nursery suddenly opened. She tensed.

“Tia?”

She exhaled with relief. It was Alaina, a golden blond with eyes to match, a Rebel in her heart as well, but a woman who had fought her own wars, had found her own peace, and lived—with a faith that would not fail her—for the day when the war would end.

“Tia, thank you so very much!” Alaina said, walking into the room. Tia drew a finger to her lips, indicating that Ariana slept in her arms.

Alaina nodded, coming to the baby and taking her from Tia. She hugged her daughter close to her, smiling at Tia above the baby’s head. “I know I’m lucky. Some wives haven’t seen their husbands since this madness began. My God, I live and breathe for the days when he can come back, but I live in terror as well, always afraid that ...”

“That the next thing you’ll hear is that there was a battle, and you cringe every time they read the list of the dead,” Tia finished softly for her.

“I’m going to put her to bed in our room.” Alaina said. “I’ll be right back for Sean!”

“Alaina, please, take your time.”

“I can’t take too much time. Raymond Weir and his attendant have arrived. Your father and mother are serving drinks in the den, and your mother wants us down as quickly as possible. Taylor is here, too.”

Tia arched a brow. You know Taylor as well?

Alaina smiled. “Of course. He’s a second cousin to Sydney, Jerome, and Brent. I grew up near them, you know that. He was with your Uncle James frequently enough. I can’t believe the two of you never met!”

“We did.”

“What?”

“When I was an infant,” Tia said quickly. “So I’ve been told.”

“He’s been trying to stay out of the state; it’s very difficult for him to be here.”

“It should be,” Tia muttered.

“It’s difficult for Ian to be here as well,” Alaina said.

“I know, and you know I love my brother—”

“Of course. Just—well, don’t hate Taylor for being a Yankee. He really is an exceptional man. I had an awful crush on him when I was a child.”

“Lovely,” Tia said. Alaina didn’t hear the sarcasm in her voice.

“I’m surprised you didn’t meet him again. He was just ahead of Ian at West Point. They were both with General Magee when the war broke out, though assigned to different duty.”

“How nice,” Tia murmured. “He’s kin to my own cousins, and friends with my brother.”

“Yes, so this should all go very well. I mean, Ray Weir is representing the South, and Taylor is here for the North. Conversation should be smooth, the exchange pleasant—and Christmas peaceful for us all!” Alaina’s smile was infectious; Tia smiled in return. After Alaina had left the room, Tia rose and walked over to the rocking horse, where Sean still played.

“Charge!” Sean called again, swinging an imaginary sword in the air. He smiled at Tia. “My father is a great cavalry officer!”

“Yes, he is,” Tia agreed.

She turned around, aware that someone stood at the door to the nursery. She thought Alaina had come back, and then she was simply
afraid
that Taylor Douglas might be there. But it was Raymond Weir, tall, handsome, his blond hair long, curling around the collar of his gray uniform dress coat, his carriage very dashing.

“Raymond!” she said, relieved.

“Tia!” He swept off his hat and bowed, every inch a gentleman.

“Sir!” Sean said, and saluted sharply.

Raymond Weir looked at the child gravely before saluting in return. “Ian’s boy?” he asked. She nodded, then smiled and whispered, “But far too young to be the enemy!”

Ray Weir smiled, but it was a slightly stiff smile, as though he didn’t seem to have much sense of humor about the war itself. He stared at Tia then, his hat in his hand.

“No enemies here,” he said softly. “My God, Tia, it’s good to see you. You’ve been near me, and yet so far from me, for so long. I’ve been so anxious to see you. I know you’ve been with Julian through most of this; I almost craved an injury to come to see you.”

“Desire no wounds on my behalf, I beg of you!” she said. “Survive this wretched war, Ray, if you would do me any favors.”

“I would do anything for you,” he replied.

She lowered her lashes, aware of the passion in his voice. If the war had come later ... might she have been married to him? Or was her mother right—had she just been a horrible flirt totally unaware of what she wanted, or afraid to cast her fate beneath the power of any man? He was very good looking, charming.

And what would he think if he knew of her latest war efforts?

“It’s so very good that you are here,” she said. “Almost like old times. Before ...”

“The war,” he said.

She nodded.

“I admire your father’s efforts here. It’s a pity he doesn’t see the true future of his state. He will, I believe, in time.”

Her father’s position had been exactly the same since the very beginning. He was not going to change his mind.

“Perhaps we can forget out positions for a Christmas celebration tonight,” she said.

Ray didn’t answer; Alaina came sweeping back into the room at that moment for her son. “The baby is down. Sean, time for bed, my darling. Oh! Ray! How good it is to see you here alive and looking so very well!”

“Alaina! What a pleasure to see you as well.”

“You were looking for a moment’s rest and stumbled upon the nursery instead?” Alaina asked.

Half-laughing, Ray shook his head. “No.” He inclined his head toward Tia. “Your mother most kindly showed me to a guest room. I’d heard a rumor bandied about downstairs that Tia was with the children, so I ventured here on my own.”

“As long as you didn’t come to the nursery looking for peace and quiet!” Alaina said.

“On the contrary. I was looking for something wild!” he said.

Alaina arched a brow, glancing at Tia. “Well, then. Sean, my love, let’s go. Tia, your mother is anxious for you to come down.”

“Then I will do so right away,” Tia assured her.

Alaina departed with Sean. Tia walked to the door. Ray remained there, his eyes upon her gravely. “You’ve grown more beautiful with the years. I’d thought that impossible. You’ve matured. You’ve held my heart and haunted my dreams for years, you know.”

“It’s very sweet for you to say so, Ray.”

He caught her hands, turned them over, kissed the palms. She met his eyes and was flattered, and also bemused by the strange stirrings she felt inside. She cared for him; she had always cared for him. He was handsome, dashing, reckless, and wild—the very pinnacle of Southern manhood. He would be right for her, and she felt ...

Good. She needed a friend in the house tonight.

She smiled suddenly. “You’re beautiful, too.”

He laughed. “Thank you, ma’am. And I thank God for this chance to be at Cimarron—with you here as well!

“My mother ...”

“Is anxious for you, yes.” He stepped back, the perfect gentleman. He would want the perfect Southern bride, bred to proper behavior, courtesy, tact, discretion—and chastity—at all times. She felt a flush warming her face.

“Excuse me.”

She fled from him, hurrying down the hallway, then down the length of the stairs. She walked quickly to her father’s study. The door was open. She entered.

Her father was seated behind his desk, as dark, handsome, and impressive as ever. Her brother, her father’s very image, stood by the side of the desk while pointing out some of her father’s books to their guest—Taylor Douglas.

Her heart slammed against her chest as the men turned at her arrival. Douglas stood as tall as her brother, clad in a fresh white shirt and dress cavalry frockcoat. In the lamplight, she noted the thick, straight, raven darkness of his hair, the clear hazel of his eyes, and the cast of his cheekbones. She’d been blind, she thought. She had seen something familiar in him when they had met; she should have seen certain resemblances to her cousin Jerome, as in the very dark, straight hair that was a sure sign of his Indian blood.

She stared at him.

He stared at her.

Someone cleared his throat. She blinked.

Reeves, her father’s very dignified valet, who had been at Cimarron as long as her family, was serving whiskey and sherry. He frowned at her, noting the way she stared at their guest, then arched a brow as she frowned back—but she reached properly for a sherry instead of the whiskey she suddenly craved.

“Tia, finally!” her father said, rising.

She swallowed the sherry quickly. “I’m sorry, Father. I’d not be late to this roomful of Yanks, except for the fact that I’ve dearly missed those little hellions my brother has bred. My time with them is precious as well!”

She noted her father’s frown and instantly rued her flippancy. She swept on over to his side, kissing his cheek. “Ian, I do envy you your children.”

“Naturally, they’re my pride and joy,” Ian said, “but you needn’t envy them. You’ll surely have your own.”

“I may delight in being an old maid aunt!” she assured him, finishing her sherry.

“Do you remember Taylor Douglas, Tia?” Jarrett asked.

“No—I had not remembered him,” she said, staring across the room at Taylor and wishing that he wouldn’t look at her the way that he did, as if he knew her far too well. “But we have met now.”

“Yes, we have met. And been formally introduced,” Taylor said politely, his eyes remaining upon hers, his slight smile seeming always to be a threat. “Indeed, may I say, sir, that your daughter’s warmth and charm have made me feel as if I’ve known her for quite some time.”

“We welcome everyone at Cimarron, don’t we, Father?” she said. Jarrett arched a brow at his daughter, and she knew that he was doubting her ability to be polite and charming to a Unionist guest. Turning to Reeves, she added, “I would love another sherry, Reeves. I taste nothing so sweet when I’m away.”

“Yes,” Taylor said agreeably. “The road is hard—bare, so frequently, of necessities.”

She felt color flood her cheeks again, and she was delighted when Ray Weir made his appearance at her father’s side.

“Ah, Ray, join us!” Jarrett said. “Please, come on in. Reeves, if you would, a whiskey for the colonel.”

“Thank you, Jarrett,” Ray said, accepting the drink offered to him. He lifted the glass. “To life!”

“To life!” all those in the room agreed, raising their glasses.

“Colonel Raymond Weir, Confederate States of America ... Colonel Taylor Douglas, United States of America,” Jarrett said, formally introducing the two.

They assessed one another, both behaving with professional etiquette intact.

“Colonel,” Ray said, nodding.

“Colonel,” Taylor acknowledged.

“You are from here, sir?”

From hereabouts mainly, though I have spent some time away.”

“It is my home, sir, with no time away,” Ray said.

“So I understand,” Taylor said.

“At this point, we should, perhaps, leave you gentlemen to your arrangements,” Jarrett said. “Dinner will be at your leisure.”

Several hours would pass before dinner. Apparently, there were a number of prisoners to be exchanged, but privates could only be exchanged for privates, corporals for corporals, lieutenants for lieutenants. Unless, of course, two privates should be bartered for a sergeant, or three sergeants for a major, or two privates and one sergeant for a lieutenant.

Reeves, coming and going from the den to refill whiskey glasses and offer cigars, assured the household that both men were adhering to a gentlemanly manner—when the discussions grew heated, they did so quietly. At seven-thirty, word came from the study that they had nearly solved their differences, and would be delighted to join the family for dinner at eight, should that be convenient.

Awaiting dinner on the verandah in the company of her family, Tia felt a sense of warmth and contentment unlike anything she had known for a very long time. Though their discussions could not help but include allusions to the war, it was not the war they discussed. Alaina talked of life in St. Augustine, and of Risa, Jerome’s wife, with whom she lived. Risa had departed a few weeks earlier for the North—it had been some time since she had seen her father, the Union general Magee, and not having the least idea where her husband was at the moment, she had chosen the time to bring her son to see her father. Tia told her parents about Julian’s wife, Rhiannon, and how she had really been the one to step in when Jerome had been seriously injured on one of his last forays. There were no arguments, only sincere conversation, and Tia, seated by her father on the steps on the porch, was glad simply to lean against the bulwark of his frame. If only ...

Ray and Taylor appeared on the porch.

“Gentlemen, the matter is resolved?” Jarrett asked.

“Sir, it is,” Ray assured him.

“And we offer our most sincere thanks for your hospitality,” Taylor said. “As do the men who will be exchanged. It has been agreed as well that those men will no longer fight, but accept honorable discharge and return to private life.”

Tia looked at Raymond Weir, certain that Taylor must have been mistaken in their agreement; the South could not afford to exchange men—and then not use them to fight.

But Raymond Weir stood listening, and making no correction to Taylor’s words. Her father rose, announcing that they should adjourn into the dining room and enjoy the evening meal with thanks for the holiday—and the occasion.

With the children in bed, Alaina and Ian sat down next to one another at the large dining room table. Her father and mother were at opposite heads of the table while Tia found herself between Raymond and Taylor.

Passing biscuits.

Her father said grace, and then conversation at first revolved around the food, the house, the weather, and Christmas Eve.

Then, after the food had been served and Tara complimented, Raymond said, “Since we’re looking to the Christmas season, I find it my duty as an officer and a gentlemen to make fair warning to you, Colonel Douglas, and to you as well, of course, Colonel McKenzie, to remove yourselves from this section of the state as soon as you are able, following the holiday. Sentiment is high against the enemy, and men captured after the transaction we’ve completed this evening are to be dealt with harshly.”