But Jesse did. That’s why he had stayed in the Union. “God in heaven, I am at war with my own brother!” He whispered aloud. He lifted his hands, suddenly remembering that he carried a package in brown wrapping. He had seen Harley Simon, a neighbor in the artillery, when he had gone through the hospital. Harley had been carrying the package with him for two months. It was a silver baby cup, a present for Jesse and Kiernan. Harley’s wife had gotten it to Harley, and Harley had been carrying it in his haversack ever since, hoping he’d see Daniel soon enough. Jesse might be on the other side, but he’d always been the Simons’ friends.
How could it be that they were all trying to kill one another, but they were still friends?
Daniel closed his eyes, then opened them. The moonlight glistened on the water. How many good, good friends did he have in the Union army, not to mention his brother? He didn’t want to think about it. Jesse and Beauty. When the war was over, would they all be able to drink good whiskey and laugh over pranks again?
Would they survive the war? Would they be able to forgive one another?
Yes, he could forgive anyone. He had understood Jesse from the start.
Not Callie. He would never forgive her. She had betrayed him. He had fallen in love, and she had betrayed him.
And now his every moment, waking, sleeping, fighting, was consumed with her. Maybe if he could just touch her again.
Burnside retreated the next day, but Daniel was swamped with duty, being sent almost daily to observe his enemy. Christmas was approaching, and it seemed the action had somewhat quieted here in the East, although skirmishing did take place. The situation was different in the West. President Jeff Davis was furious with the happenings in New Orleans. Since the fall of that city, a Union general named Butler—“Beast” Butler, as he was being called—had been in charge. The women in the city had been so rude to the Union officers that Butler had issued a proclamation called his “Women’s Order,” in which he stated that any female acting rude to his officers would be considered a woman of the streets, plying her avocation, and be so duly treated in turn.
Jeff Davis wanted Butler executed on the spot if he could be captured. It was a strange turn of events, for once upon a time, when there had been only one country, Butler had been one of Jeff Davis’s strongest political supporters.
Thankfully, despite strong support in the North, Butler was removed, and General Banks was sent in to take his place. Banks was far less objectionable to the citizens of New Orleans.
December wore on.
Three days before Christmas, Daniel was given ninety-six hours leave. When he heard the news, his heart began to thud with anticipation.
He was going to go to Maryland. He was going to find out just what he would do when he saw her again. He would wrestle with both the beauty and the beast that haunted his dreams, his days, and his nights.
But another Beauty got wind of. his plans, that Beauty being Jeb Stuart. Beauty, dashing as ever in his flamboyant plumed hat and cape, came to visit him, carrying a bottle of a fine vintage wine and good-humored Christmas stories. As they sat there, Jeb suddenly ceased to smile and told him flatly, “You’re not to travel north, Daniel. I need you too badly. You cannot risk capture now.”
“I risk capture almost daily!” Daniel exploded. “How else does one encircle an enemy for intelligence?”
Stuart sighed. “Daniel, war is a danger. Bullets are dangerous! We cannot avoid either. But I’ll not lose you again over something … unnecessary. Daniel, you’ve chosen not to speak about Sharpsburg, or your capture, or even your days in prison. I can’t make you. But you’ve changed since then. Even the men have noticed it.”
“I’m a damned good officer, and I never ask more of my men than I’m willing to give.”
“I agree, the men would agree, and hell, yes, you must be a cat, you’re so willing to lead into the fray rather than ask another man to do it. But Daniel, you can’t go north now. I’ll see that your leave is revoked unless you give me your word that you won’t head into Maryland.”
Daniel scowled. Anticipation had been so sweet. Seeing her, shaking her, touching her. It had all seemed so close he could almost taste it.
“Daniel, damn it, don’t put me in a position to pull rank!” Stuart pleaded.
Daniel swallowed hard. “I’ve got to get back to Sharpsburg.”
“I’ll get you there. In ‘63 sometime. I swear it,” Stuart promised him.
Daniel exhaled. It hint. Almost physically. Stuart rose and stretched out his hand. “Your word, Daniel. I need you back here.”
His word. His precious honor. Wasn’t that what they were fighting for?
He gave Stuart his hand. Beauty turned and headed out of Daniel’s field tent. He paused, his back to Daniel. “Jesse is just across the Rappahannock. Did you know that?”
“I figured he was still with the Feds, somewhere close.”
“We’re exchanging some prisoners right before Christmas. Anything you want to send him?”
“Yes,” Daniel said quietly. “Tell him that Harley Simon sent him a gift for the baby, and tell him that I’ll be taking it home to Kiernan. And send him his brother’s warmest regards. Tell him that I’ve gone home for Christmas. And that we’ll all be thinking of him.”
“I’ll tell him,” Stuart agreed, then left the tent.
The next morning, Daniel started off.
From his position near Fredericksburg, Daniel needed the time to carefully skirt the Yanks and ride the distance, stopping overnight in Richmond, where he was able to attend an evening at the White House of the Confederacy with President and Mrs. Davis. The house, which had been donated to the city of Richmond and then to the Confederate government, was gracious and beautiful, but what made it more so, Daniel thought, was the South’s first lady. Varina Davis was many years her husband’s junior. Where Davis was known for being reserved and opinionated, Varina was all warmth and beauty. The cares of the Confederacy were etched in her features, but she had lost none of her warmth that Christmas season. Daniel came into the entryway with numerous other officers. He was led into the house, where all of the pocket doors had been thrown open to make one large space for all of the guests. The president and his lady were not elusive creatures, but hardworking individuals who strived to be available to friends and associates. Daniel had never known Jeff Davis well; still, the man was kind and concerned when they spoke. And Varina reminded him of everything that they were fighting for. Beautiful, vivacious, and still regal and dignified, she moved with a rustle of silk and a whisper of femininity. Watching her brought a warmth to him, until her movement reminded him of Callie.
He still had far to go, and so did not tarry long in Richmond. It was a careful day’s ride out to Cameron Hall from the capital, since he didn’t know if there might be any Union troops on the peninsula.
But coming home, he thought, when he first saw the drive leading down a length of oaks to Cameron Hall, was worth any care or danger. The house still stood, and stood regally with its huge white columns and wide, inviting porches. Seeing the house, he began to ride hard. Even as he neared the house, the large doors to the grand hallway were thrown open and a woman appeared on the porch. She was dressed in deep maroon velvet and her hair was darker than his own. She cried out, and was joined in seconds by another woman, this one blond, and dressed in deepest royal blue. The brunet was his sister, the blonde his sister-in-law.
“It’s a soldier, Kiernan!”
“Reb or Yank, Christa?”
“Reb. It’s—”
“It’s Daniel!”
The two of them came flying down the stairs, running for him. Daniel felt the bitterness of the war melt from his heart, and he leapt down from his horse and began to run himself. Seconds later they were both in his arms, and he was swirling with them and holding them close. They each kissed and hugged him, and he returned the kisses and hugs, meeting his sister’s crystal-blue gaze first, then Kiernan’s entrancing emerald-green one.
<
br /> “Oh, Daniel, you made it home for Christmas!” Christa said happily.
Kiernan was observing him more carefully. “I sent all kinds of things to you in Washington, Daniel. Jesse got a letter through that you’d been captured. But then I received another letter saying that you’d escaped before my goods ever reached you!”
He grinned. “Kiernan, you know I couldn’t stay.”
She shook her head, nervously biting her lower lip. “Oh, Daniel! I was almost glad! You might have survived very well up there.”
He arched a brow to her. “Is my brother changing you into a Yank, Kiernan?”
She flushed, and he was sorry he had spoken. No one could be more torn than Kiernan. Her heart had been so completely for the Confederacy—and yet her love for Jesse had proven stronger than any war. She and Daniel had been friends all of their lives, good friends. But even as she greeted him now with warmth and tender concern, he knew she was wishing that another Yankee soldier was also coming home for Christmas.
“Never mind,” Daniel said quickly. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and turned to his sister. “Christa! Will we be able to have a Christmas dinner?”
“Of course,” Christa said, her head high, a smile still teasing her lips. “We’ve had no battles on the property, Daniel, nor even skirmishes. The closest difficulty has been in Williamsburg. So we’ve all manner of good things. I gave a number of chickens and several cows and numerous bales of hay to a group collecting for the cause the other day, but everything is running very well Kiernan and I do quite nicely, really.”
Daniel laughed. “Remember all the times Pa used to spend with Jesse and me determined we’d be very well educated planters? Who would have thought you’d be the one to carry on with the family business!”
Christa grinned. “I have lots of help,” she assured him, winking at Kiernan, and the three of them walked into the house.
It was good to be home. Jigger, the very dignified butler of Cameron Hall, was quick to see that Daniel was pampered during his stay. Some men had brought slaves or servants right to the battlefield with them, but neither Daniel nor Jesse had ever seen the right in dragging another man along in a fight that wasn’t his. On the line, he took care of himself. Here at home, it felt good to let Jigger take charge of his life. That meant steaming hip baths with a brandy at his fingertips. Slippers ready to cushion his feet, soft cotton shirts to slip over his head. It meant coffee with rich heavy cream in the morning, and it meant eggs and ham and bacon. It meant fine tobacco. Being home was good.
Being home meant that he was even more amazed at how well the plantation was running. Kiernan and Christa could give him long accounts of everything that they had done, ledgers on planting and harvesting, sales of horses and livestock, the buying of carriages and equipment. Except for salt and sugar, they were almost entirely self-sufficient at Cameron Hall. They had lots of help, of course, because life at the house had really changed very little. Most of the slaves had stayed on as freemen, willing to work for wages, for the right to better their small cottages, and knowing that they could move on if they chose. Some had left. Several of their people had gone north and then come back, Christa told him. When he complimented her and Kiernan again, she was quick to remind him that Jigger ran the house, Janey had come back with Kiernan from Montemarte, and that Taylor Mumford, a freeman of mixed blood, ran the plantation just as he always had. Christa wasn’t alone because Kiernan was there, Kiernan’s father was nearby to advise them, and the children, Jacob and Patricia Miller, Kiernan’s sister and brother-in-law from her first marriage, were always eager to help with the garden, or with making soap or candles, or whatever else might be necessary.
“And of course everyone dotes on the baby!”
The baby was his nephew, John Daniel Cameron, named for Kiernan’s father and himself. Now six months old, he was creeping about the house with a thick thatch of raven-black hair and a pair of startling blue eyes and a set of lungs to defy any army. The very best part of being home, Daniel thought, was spending time with the baby. He liked to jiggle John Daniel on his knees after a meal while Christa, Kiernan, and Patricia amused him with the harpsichord and piano and all manner of songs.
It was just like old times; almost like old times. Walking with his sister by the river one morning, he looked back at the house, and a shiver seized him. He glanced back at Christa. She was growing older, and so very, very beautiful with her pale skin, ebony-dark hair, and crystal-blue eyes. There was a serenity and maturity about her now. In a yellow day dress, she was stunning. She was smiling at him. “What is it, Daniel?”
“I’m afraid every time I ride away.”
She shook her head. “Daniel, we’re safe here. The Rebs keep clear of us because it’s your home. Even when the Yanks are on the peninsula, they stay away because it’s Jesse’s home.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “But, Christa …”
“What?”
He shook his head. “It ought to be over,” he said softly. “I’ve seen more men die, more men maimed, left limbless, emaciated. We fight better, but that Lincoln, he’s a tenacious man. It’s going to go on and on. And it’s going to get worse. I’ve seen what happens when the battle actually comes to your doorstep….”
He broke off. Damn. He was trying so damned hard not to think about her—Callie. He’d given his word; he hadn’t traveled north. He’d come home.
Cameron Hall was a huge and magnificent plantation. Life here was complex, with ships still moving on the James, with the fields still bringing in an income, with meals an affair, with life rigorous but still played by the codes that Kiernan and Christa had learned as girls. And his sister and sister-in-law were still gowned in fine materials, with deep layers of petticoats, with hoops and stays.
While Callie survived alone. Serene, regal, she had come from a different life. She kept the farm running herself, in the hope that someone would come home. She’d survived in the very midst of battle, with windowpanes shot out and cannonballs in the very eaves of her home. Her clothing was not nearly so elegant.
Her beauty was every bit as deep.
And her mind just as cunning, for she had betrayed him so completely. He groaned, amazed that he could still feel the bitterness, the anger, the pain, so deeply.
“What is it, Daniel?”
“Nothing. I’ve just seen what happens when the battle hits home. Christa, if it comes to that, neither Yanks nor Rebs will care about our traditions. Both armies will be seeking food and supplies. Both will strip us bare. Both will burn the house to the ground if necessary. I want you to remember this, Christa. As much as we love it, this place is wood and brick. You and Kiernan and John Daniel and the others are what matter. Guard yourselves first, always. Promise me that.”
“Daniel—”
“Promise me that!”
“I promise!” she said softly. Hand in hand, they walked back to the house together.
That night, they stayed up late, sipping cinnamon wine that Kiernan had made. The baby was put to bed, and Patricia and Jacob were encouraged to tell them all that they wanted for Christmas. Patricia wanted one of the new foals that had been born that spring, a little Arabian. Jacob wanted a sword and a uniform. “There will be time for that later,” Daniel told him gruffly. The twins were sent to bed, and the three of them were left in the living room. “What do you want for Christmas?” Daniel asked Christa.
Kiernan laughed softly and answered for her. “His name is Captain Liam McCloskey. He was here on a reconnaissance ride out of Williamsburg soon after you and Jesse left last June. He’s been back a few times since then. Buying grain.”
“Really?” Curiously, Daniel looked at his sister. She was the shade of a tomato, but didn’t deny anything. “How serious is this?”
Christa was looking at her fingers. “Well …”
“Well?” he said.
“Well, I believe he intends to find you when he can. He’s asked me to marry him.”
Marri
age! Well, of course, she was all grown up now, and she was beautiful. It was such a huge step. Jesse should have been asked too. They should have done all kinds of checking up on this man, this captain. They should have known exactly where he came from and all about his family. Most of all, they should have known if he could care for Christa properly, if he could provide her all that she had grown up with.
But none of them would know, or could know. Who knew what would be left when the war was over.
I shouldn’t say yes, I should meet him, Daniel thought.
But he loved Christa, and Christa was intelligent, and exuberant and beautiful and young, but she knew her own heart and he thought her a good judge of men. If she loved this captain, it was enough for him.
Daniel exhaled and then laughed. “I take it that you do want to marry him?”
“With all my heart. Daniel, have I your blessing?”
“Yes, with all my heart. I look forward to meeting this young man.”
“That’s all that I want for Christmas,” she said softly. “What about you, Daniel?”
He couldn’t say all the things on his mind. “I don’t know. Let me think. Kiernan, what about you?”
She smiled. “That’s easy. I just want to see Jesse.”
He rose and kissed them both, and went on to bed. He stayed up half the night, looking out at the river.
Despite his lack of sleep, he rose very early. He walked out to the family graveyard where nearly two centuries of Camerons were lain to rest. For some reason, there was always peace to be had here. He walked back to the house and walked the length of the portrait gallery. Jassy and Jamie, the founders of the line, looked down upon him in their seventeenth-century finery. His great, great—he didn’t know how many greats—grandparents. She’d had nothing when she had met Lord Cameron, so the legend went. Nothing but sheer guts and tenacity. Together, they had forged this place from the wilderness.
Dear God, let it stand! he thought.
But it wasn’t so much a house that they had created, he thought. It was something intangible, something that had given him and Jesse the right to go their separate ways, and to love one another still. That something wouldn’t live on in brick and stone and wood. It would live on in John Daniel Cameron, and Lord willing, in themselves.