Startled, they all looked down the table. John Daniel grinned at them happily, and sent another missile flying.
“My Lord!” Jesse exploded. “The war better end quickly! I’ve a child with no table manners!”
Callie couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing when a third flying green missile caught Jesse square in the left cheek.
“John Daniel!” Kiernan cried in dismay, leaping to her feet. But by then, Jared, entranced by his cousin, was attempting the same feat. He hadn’t really the coordination to balance the pea in his spoon, so he merely toppled over his entire dish, stared at them all with deep pleasure, laughed, and offered the table a beautiful grin.
“Jared!” Callie moaned and jumped up too.
Christa laughed. “Really, why be so distressed? The two of them at least know they are supposed to be hurtling their shots at Yanks!”
“Christa!” Daniel exclaimed.
“Never mind, Daniel. I shall get the children and myself away from this meal! Patricia, care to join me? Do excuse me, all of you!” She said the words sweetly, but her eyes were afire. Patricia, serene and mature far beyond her years, rose and grinned, “I’ll take the young masters Cameron out into the kitchen with Christa,” she said. “Please, enjoy dinner, all of you.”
When she was gone, there was silence at the table. “I shouldn’t be here,” Jeremy said.
“Jesu! This is our home!” Daniel exploded. “I’m calling a truce, North and South, for tonight. Let’s eat, shall we? We’ve no time, we’ve never any time. We’re all here now, for the love of God, let’s enjoy what we have.”
“Yes,” Jesse agreed. “Kiernan, sit. Pass the peas, please.”
“The normal way, if you would, please,” Daniel suggested.
Kiernan sat, laughing, excusing her son’s bad manners to Jeremy.
Callie watched them all in silence, so very aware of Daniel across the table from her.
They ate. The conversation was polite. There was a silence again until Jesse asked Daniel, “When are you going back?”
“Tomorrow,” Daniel said briefly. He shrugged. “We don’t seem to know quite what Grant is doing, and we need to keep a close watch on him.” He paused. “When are you going back?”
“Tomorrow. I don’t know what Grant is doing either, but he’s giving me plenty of wounded, that’s for certain.” He hesitated, looking at Daniel. “What about Christa’s wedding? We’re just days away. Liam Mc-Closkey should be arriving any time.”
Daniel exhaled slowly and miserably. He shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do,” he told Jesse softly. “Kiernan will be here. And Callie …” He paused again. He had given Callie permission to leave in the morning if that was her desire.
He suddenly determined that it wasn’t going to be her desire.
Or if it was, she wouldn’t be able to forget him once he had gone.
“Jeremy?” Daniel said suddenly.
“Sir, I’m on leave, but I hardly think that your sister would want me attending her wedding!”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Daniel said. “I’m glad that you’re on leave. You can stay the night,” Daniel said. He rose suddenly, walking around the table behind Callie’s chair. “My sister will see to a room for you. Now if you’ll all excuse the two of us …”
Callie’s chair was abruptly pulled back. He had her hand, and she was on her feet. She felt a flush flaming her cheeks, and she wanted to protest his sudden and so obvious command, but she had a feeling that she’d be leaving the room one way or the other. If she went out hectoring she’d risk a duel between her brother and her husband once again.
But she did protest as soon as they reached the hall. “Daniel, what do you think you’re doing? We were in the middle of a meal—”
“I ate, thank you.”
“We weren’t alone!”
“Ah, but we’re going to be.”
“Daniel—” She paused, tugging back on her hand. He paused, but only to scoop her up into his arms and head for the stairway.
“What are you doing?” she demanded angrily.
“What do you think I’m doing?” He cross-queried almost savagely, his eyes cobalt as they touched hers.
She knew what he was doing. His eyes, and his touch, both were so explosive when circumstance had again separated them for so very long. Rivers of excitement began to stream within her. She clenched down hard on her teeth, trying to understand him. Not an hour ago he had been telling her that it was her choice if she wanted to leave him. And now …
“Daniel, put me down.”
“No.”
“You were just saying that I could leave—”
“Not now. In the morning.”
“Well, if you want me to leave—”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“But you said—”
“I said that it would be your choice.”
His long strides had taken them up the stairs now and below the portrait gallery. Long-gone Camerons looked down upon them. Some of them sternly, some of them with mischief in their eyes.
Eyes as blue, as startling, as deep and dark and demanding as those that focused upon her now. “You said that you loved me.”
“And no matter what I say,” she challenged him heatedly, “you never really believe me, you don’t fully trust me!”
They had reached his room. He shoved open the door with his foot, and walked into the darkness.
She wanted him more than she had ever imagined that she could. In the darkness she felt electric. His calloused hands upon the bare flesh of her arms seemed to light swift burning fires just beneath her skin. They raged down the length of her, they tore into her. Sweet, wonderful. He could do this too easily to her.
And leave her so swiftly when it was done.
“Daniel!” she cried. Not tonight. There could be no “pretend” tonight. She wouldn’t allow it to be so.
He dropped her down upon the bed. She felt the fall of his weight beside her and then she felt his fingers moving impatiently upon the topmost button of her gown.
“Stop it!” she cried and tried to twist away. “Callie! We’ve one night!”
“One night!” She moistened her lips. “Do you believe me?”
“Does it matter so much?” He paused in the near ebony darkness, and all that she could see of him was shadows and a silhouette. She loved that silhouette, the plumed hat gone, the soldier tall and straight as he stood now, looking down at her. What did he see in the darkness? she wondered.
Did any of it matter? If only he would lean down and touch her lips, and make the world go away.
“Yes, it matters!”
His lips came close to hers. She felt the warmth, the whisper of them in the night. “You are a Yank. Would you betray me now?” he asked softly.
“Daniel—”
“Callie—”
“Daniel, no!” She found an extraordinary strength, pushing him aside and leaping to her feet. She stared at him, trying to discover something of his features in the darkness. “No, Daniel, I would not betray you now! I would not have betrayed you before, except that I was desperate to save your life. I’ve told you,” she cried out, “that I love you. What more would you have from me, Daniel? I’ve lived here, without you, all this time. I went with Kiernan to Richmond to be near you. I learned to love my enemy so well that it broke my heart to see that poor child, Joey, die, and still you ask these things of me! I’ve loved you from the beginning, Daniel. I never ceased to love you. But now! Well, sir, I have had it! I have—”
She gasped, her words breaking off, for he had come for her. Hands upon her upper arms, he dragged her against him. His mouth bore down on hers in a fever; his body, touching hers, was electric. His hands were upon her face, his lips seeming to devour hers. His lips touched her throat, her cheek, her lips again.
“Daniel—”
“I love you, Callie,” he said softly.
“But—”
“And I beli
eve you. Forgive me. I was afraid to believe you, but I do. And I love you.”
“Oh, Daniel!”
“Make love with me, Callie?”
She paused, her arms around him, meeting his eyes. “There are Yanks downstairs, you know.”
“Are there any in the wardrobe?”
She smiled and shook her head. “The only Yank in the room stands before you, waiting.”
“Kiss me, Callie?”
“Seduce you?” she queried. “You’ll not blame the Yankees being in Virginia on me?”
His fingers threaded into her hair and gave a little tug. She cried out softly but his lips found hers, hungrily, eagerly.
“I said,” he whispered just above her mouth, “that I believe in you. And I love you, Callie. More than you’ll ever know. More deeply than I’ll ever be able to say.”
She had never heard words so sweet. She was barely aware when he kissed her again.
“Try …” she murmured, smiling, when his lips lifted from hers.
“I love you more than life, more than limb, more than heart or soul …” he began, and kissed her again. He began to speak once more, but only slowly did she become aware of his whispers, for she was so acutely aware of his touch upon her clothing.
He whispered of how he dreamed of her in the long nights away. How he closed his eyes and saw her in his dreams, walking toward him. He whispered of how he had longed to believe.
So many times she was there with him. With the breeze from the river lifting her hair, the gently rolling water lying far below them. Honeysuckle was lightly on the air, and there in the rich green grasses, she would shed her clothing and lie down beside him.
In the darkness, the black dress she had worn was suddenly at her feet. She felt her own fingers moving, trembling, upon his scabbard. His weapons were set aside.
The tattered gray uniform lay on the floor.
For a moment they stood together, naked, and the moon came out at last, casting a dim and ivory light over the room. Callie felt the touch of his flesh against the whole of her body, and then she pressed him toward her. Her love …
He was tautly muscled and lean. More so every time that she saw him. She pressed her lips against his collarbone, then against the rigid muscle of his breast, then against the bone of a rib. The sleek touch of his hands moved up and down her arms. Whispers, kisses, pressed into her hair. She rubbed her face against his belly, her lips pressing there. She came lower and lower against him until his hoarse cry would allow her no more. She was swept up again, into his arms, and laid down upon the bed in a tempest.
Within seconds he was a part of her, and their magic had begun. The emptiness of lonely nights was filled, just as the thrust of his body filled her own. Hands, limbs, whispers, and kisses entwined as each strove for more of one another, hungry, near bursting, longing for the pleasure—and the love—to go on and on.
Daniel felt the fierce shuddering of her body, the tightening of her slick passage as it grasped his sex. His hands moved deftly over her shoulders and arms, caressed and grasped her buttocks. Climax, sweet and violent, flooded through him and from him and he held her very close, feeling her heart, feeling his own. Her breasts continued to rise and fall. He laid his head against them and touched them tenderly.
At last he rose and kissed her lips. She smiled and quivered. He pulled away. In the moonlight, she was exquisite. Naked ivory flame, her perfect face encompassed by the shimmering auburn of her hair. Hair that waved and tangled around her, beneath the curves of her body, her beautiful breasts, her hips, her thighs. Her eyes were as silver as the moon, and he suddenly found himself shaking.
All these long months of war. He had dragged her here. He had cast her in among her enemy. And she had stayed. She had come to Richmond. Her heart had never faltered in her belief in the northern right, and yet she had cast it aside for him.
All this time he had hurt her so badly with his doubt.
He trembled and laid his head against her breast again. “Forgive me,” he whispered.
She rose up next to him, throwing her arms around him, holding him again. “Oh, Daniel!” She leaned back. The darkness had been dispelled. Their shadow land was really magical. “Oh, Daniel, I love you so.”
Entwined, upon their knees, they began to kiss one another again. He told her that she was beautiful, and she laughed and whispered that he was beautiful too.
“Rebel soldiers are not beautiful,” he told her.
“Oh, but you are!” she protested, and despite his indignation, she began to tell him about the time when he’d had his fever. “I had to cool you down. I had to get rid of your uniform. I hadn’t been a widow long enough then, but I was so fascinated with your shoulders.” She stroked them. “And I needed to … to taste you!” Her lips touched down on his flesh. Her eyes met his again. “You were beautiful. Very male and very beautiful. I thought that you had the most beautiful shoulders I had ever seen, the leanest, tightest belly, the trimmest hips. The most beautiful legs …” Her voice trailed suggestively. She leaned close and wickedly whispered precisely how beautiful the extraordinary piece of his anatomy that lay between them was, too, and how she had longed to touch that …
She had him laughing, and then she had him on fire again.
In the ivory light, they were both very beautiful, he decided, and he made love to her with a driving, desperate passion once again.
And so went the night. They dozed, they awakened, they made love, they dozed.
For the first time, Daniel was truly bitter that he would have to return to the war.
They were losing it. No, it was already lost, he decided. They could hold the Yanks from Richmond. Maybe they could outfight the Yanks. They were naturally better horsemen. So many of them had military educations. But the Yanks weren’t cowards, they never had been. And there were so damned many of them. The South would be starving soon. She was nearly in a death grip now. There would be no help from Europe.
I have admitted that I am losing, but I will go back, I know that I will, he told himself.
His arms tightened around his wife. Dear God, let me come home. Let us survive this. Let us live.
She moved against him. Slowly, erotically, she began to make love to him. Sensual, seductive in her every movement, she rose above him. She bent to kiss his lips. She began to move, oh, so slowly. Like a dance engaged …
Until the flames caught, and he could give her the lead no more, but became the aggressor, until he fell beside her, spent once more.
He held her very close, breathing in the fragrance of her hair. He trembled, thinking of how deeply he loved her.
It was morning. The first rays of light were just beginning to streak into the room.
Daniel frowned suddenly, certain that he had heard something outside.
Callie slept. Naked, he slipped quietly from the bed and strode to the window. Carefully, he pulled back the drape and began to watch.
Callie awoke with a start, aware that he was no longer beside her. She sat up, running her hand over the bed where he should have been.
“Daniel!” His name formed on her lips, but something had warned her, and she barely voiced it aloud. She saw him. Naked, silent, he was by the window, looking down. He saw her, and pressed his finger to his lips.
“What is it?” she mouthed.
He walked back to the bed, looking down at her. “Yanks,” he said softly.
Yankees. Not her brother, not his brother. Every time he trusted in her, every time he made love to her, the enemy appeared,
Callie leaned up to him, gasping. “Daniel, I didn’t—”
“Hush!” He pressed his lips to hers. With sadness, with regret? With a poignant bitterness? “Get dressed, Callie, quickly.” He was already dressing. Even as he spoke again, he was pulling on his cavalry boots and reaching for his sword and guns. “I’ve got to rouse the house, and I’ve got to get out there.”
“Get out there? Daniel, you need to stay in here! Jesse can spe
ak with them, he can—”
“Callie, these aren’t friends of Jesse’s. These men are definitely the enemy. They’re trying to fire the house,” he said softly. “I’ve got to stop them.”
“But how—”
“Callie, your old friend, Eric Dabney, is down there. I saw him. Now get dressed. Hurry.”
With those last words, he turned and left her.
———— Twenty-eight ————
Callie managed to dress quickly. With her blouse barely buttoned, she ran out of the bedroom and raced down the hall, determined first to see to the children.
Janey, her beautiful silk-black flesh paled to an ashen shade, was standing guard over the cribs where the youngest Camerons were sleeping unaware of any danger.
“They’re fine, Miz Callie. No one will touch these boys, by my life, I swear it!” she promised.
Callie felt as if she were choking. “We may—we may have to move them out quickly,” she advised Janey. “Where has my husband gone?”
“He’s gone down, Miz Callie. Move soft, and move quiet, he’s got to take them by surprise.”
Her heart slammed hard against her chest. Eric Dabney was here. Trying to burn down Cameron Hall. And it was her fault. He had come because he hated Daniel and that hatred was because of her.
She hurried out into the hallway again. Maybe she could speak with him. Maybe she could ride back with him. Maybe she could do something!
She gave Janey a fierce hug. “Please, Janey, please, do watch out for the boys!” she said, and she hurried out.
She reached the portrait gallery. All those long-gone Camerons seemed to look down on her with reproach.
At the foot of the stairway, she nearly cried out as she crashed into a tall, rocklike body. Arms gripped her. But they weren’t Daniel’s. They were her brother’s.
“Jesu, Callie, that’s Dabney out there!”
“I know,” she whispered miserably.
“I’ll talk to the son of a bitch!” Jeremy exploded.
“It won’t do any good,” a voice suggested softly. Daniel emerged from the shadows in the hallway. “Jeremy, how many of them have you counted?”
“At least a company. There won’t be many of us against them—”