Roberta’s jaw sagged. “Minnesota! That godforsaken place? You can’t ask that of a gentle born lady!”
“Madam, I’m not asking. If you wish to go with me, that is your decision, but whatever, I’ve made up my mind.”
Chapter 17
FAR to the northeast, the last squall line crouched like a low range of mountains and dissipated its angry energy with flashes of jagged light. The storm tumbled and roiled, grinding its way across the coastal swamps, moving away from the crystal clear sky of the western quadrant where the moon hung high and bright. In the hushed aftermath of the storm, mists rose from the rivers, lakes, and swamps until a dense blanket of fog lay over the entire Delta. From any lofty pinnacle in the main portion of the city, the tops of taller buildings and houses could be seen as great black boulders in a fretful channel of cottony white, and beyond them, the spidery rigging of topmasts marked where the Yankee fleet lay at anchor on the river.
Across the sleeping city, only a few blocks from the Craighughs’ house, Cole Latimer guided his horse and buggy through the eerie, luminescent mists, and the steady clip-clop of hooves and the rattle of wheels were the only sounds that rent the muffled shroud of silence. Tense-faced, he peered into the grayness and silently cursed his own addled brain. Over and over in his mind he berated himself for a fool. How could he have failed to recognize the difference between the two women? They were as dissimiliar as east and west, or, he grimaced, maybe north and south.
He had traveled only a short distance when, in the haze ahead, he espied a dark shape flitting quickly across the road. It disappeared behind a large live oak that grew close upon the curb. As he drew near no other movement could be discerned, and cautious of being waylaid, Cole halted the buggy and drew his pistol.
“You there! Behind the tree!” he barked. “Step out where I can see you.”
Though a long moment passed, he received no response. Cole raised the gun, and the double click of the hammer being drawn back echoed sharply along the fog-endued avenue. He was about to call out again when grudgingly a small, slim black figure stepped into view. Cole quickly lowered the pistol, recognizing the trim form of the widow he and Jacques had shared an interest in. Holstering the gun, he tied the reins to the dashboard and stepped down. Politely he touched the brim of his hat as he neared the curb where she had stopped.
“Madam, it seems a foul night and a late hour for a lady to be about unprotected. May I give you assistance in any way?”
The black-bonneted head gave a negative reply, prompting Cole to wonder if everyone was bent on giving him mute answers.
“Do you wish to be taken somewhere, perhaps?”
Again the same movement of the head came as an answer. What else could Alaina do when the moment she uttered a word recognition would dawn with it. She cursed her luck and was beginning to doubt that she would ever be rid of this Yankee. Everywhere she turned, he seemed to be there, ready to ensnare her.
Cole drew off his gauntlets and tucked them beneath his belt. “Madam, as a gentleman I can hardly leave you here without escort. I do not wish to pry, but if you will name a destination, I will deliver you there without further ado. I assure you most humbly that you need have no fear of me.”
Alaina scoffed in silent derision. If she could only change the character of her voice as easily as her garb, she would give him an answer. One he would not soon forget.
Cole reached into his shirt for a cigar, then searched in his pocket for a match. This had all the appearances of evolving into a long, decidedly one-sided conversation, and at the current rate of reciprocation, he would do just as well talking to himself.
“Shall we wait together then, madam?” he inquired dryly. “At least until you decide where I may take you. I give you my word, I won’t be going until I am assured of your safety.”
Inwardly, Alaina groaned her frustration as he reached back to strike the match on the metal frame of the buggy. The small light flared, and Cole turned to stand patiently in the street before her. He was about to touch the flame to his cheroot when the irritated tap of her toe against the curb drew his attention. His brow raised sharply as he realized the widow’s slight stature was just about the right size for Al—or Alaina. And that little chit—
His jaw clamped firmly on the cigar, he moved the match closer to her veiled bonnet and, with his free hand, lifted the thin gossamer barrier. He stared into Alaina’s snapping gray eyes, forgetting the match until the heat of the flame seared into his fingers. Mouthing a startled oath, he flipped it away and shook his hand.
“Did you burn yourself, Captain?” Alaina patronizingly plied him.
“Yes!” he snapped irately, throwing the cigar into the gutter.
“He who plays with fire, Captain—” she chided. “Well you know the saying.”
“I have grown most cautious of wayward lads and warming pots,” he observed gruffly. “I shall have to lengthen the list to include widows and matches, or perhaps shorten it to one, Alaina MacGaren.”
“As you will, sir. But it was not my doing,” she reminded him. “You were the careless one.”
“I don’t suppose it has occurred to you that you might have told me what really happened that night?” he prodded ill-humoredly. “As I remember it, there was plenty of time for you to warn me before the consummation of the marriage.”
“But, Captain,” Alaina purred with a tight smile of malice. “You seemed so eager and content. How could I disturb such a blissful state?”
“Dammit, woman!” he barked, then cautiously lowered his voice. “Are you so simple that you cannot imagine why I married her?”
“Uncle Angus did have something to do with it, I believe,” she returned flippantly.
“Forgive me,” he snorted contemptuously. “for ever thinking that you and Roberta were so different. It seems, after all, that you both think alike.”
“And what do you mean by that?” Alaina questioned indignantly.
“Never mind,” he grumbled. “It shall be my everlasting secret. I doubt if you’d believe me anyway.” Irritated, he indicated her black gown. “Did you take time to pack anything? Or is this it?”
Alaina stepped behind the tree and brought forth her wicker case, but when she glanced up, she found the large, darkly clad form of Cole standing close in front of her. His arms were akimbo, and though the shadow of the wide-brimmed hat hid his face, she detected a note of disapproval in his stance.
“Miss MacGaren, I do not claim to be a gentleman of blood,” he stated firmly. “And you most certainly have never professed to be a lady. Nevertheless, let us, in common agreement, strive to portray ourselves as being both gracious and mannerly.” He stooped and took the valise from her hand. “If you please, mademoiselle.” He bowed, clicking his heels, and swept a hand about in an invitation for her to proceed.
Pricked by his rebuff, Alaina tossed her head and adjusted her woolen shawl more securely around her shoulders. She could well do without this Yankee’s advice or assistance. If he wanted the case so badly, she’d leave it with him and make her own way unencumbered through the night. Indeed, she had every intention of walking away from him, but the gutter directly in front of her was filled with water, and she could not easily step across it unless she turned toward him. Lifting her skirts almost to her knees, she drew back a foot, preparing to leap the obstacle. But of a sudden, the night lurched askew, and she was swept from her feet by iron-thewed arms and clasped against a broad, hard chest she remembered far too well.
“How dare you!” she gasped. “Let me go! Put me down!”
“Try harder at being a lady then,” Cole admonished, showing not the slightest inclination to obey her. His long stride easily cleared the moat as he mockingly lectured her on the proprieties of being a lady. “A gentlewoman would hardly display her ankles so readily nor carry her own valise when a gentleman is present.”
“And do you suggest that a gentleman would handle a lady so rudely?” she scoffed with rancor, yet she
deigned to put an arm about his neck and, with a small movement, settled herself more securely in that not unwelcomed cradle. “I declare that in spite of the many threats against his person, Al was treated more gently than this. Perhaps I chose the wrong disguise. You would no doubt have been more at ease with the lad.”
“That may be,” he murmured distantly and paused beside the buggy. “But I mightily favor your present form above that of scarecrow boy.”
His face was so close, Alaina had no difficulty discerning its every detail, and the soft, lazy smile it bore awoke burning memories that, while thrilling, were also most disturbing. The shivery warmth that ran through her completely disrupted her composure. She turned her own face away and thus betrayed the sudden blush that would have gone unseen in the misty darkness.
“Captain, if you please—” She struggled to set a foot to ground. “Your everlasting fondling wears on me. And you, if I dare remind you, are a married man.”
Cole placed her quite ungently upon the buggy seat, his anger once more kindled. “A fact which weighs more certainly upon your discretion than mine, Miss MacGaren.”
He passed to the rear of the carriage, tossed the wicker case into the boot beside his own baggage, and jerked the canvas cover over them. He returned to her sight and lit another cheroot with quick, taut movements, the flare of the sulfur match displaying a frowning, pensive visage. Alaina glanced away, reading his ire, and slid across the seat to make room for him. As he lifted a foot to the step, however, she placed a hand upon the tufted leather, and when he glanced up in wonder at her delaying gesture, she smiled condescendingly.
“I do miss the case between us, Captain.”
“Is it magical, then, that it will protect your virtue?” His tone grew curt. “Shall I fetch it?”
Demurely Alaina folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them. Her voice was soft and low but almost a scream in the misty darkness. “What virtue, Captain?”
His answer was an explosive, “Damn!”
Finding no better comment, Cole mounted into the seat and lifted the reins. After a long moment, he dropped them again and leaned back, resting a booted foot on the dashboard. “You have not yet named your destination, Miss MacGaren. This does make it rather difficult to proceed.”
“I have no place in mind, Captain,” she confessed. “I’ve precious little coin to squander for lodging, as you may well know. I had hoped that perhaps Doctor Brooks might afford me a night’s shelter.”
“I still have my apartment at the Pontalba place,” Cole informed her tersely. “Since I shall be absent for some weeks, you are welcome to make use of it. At least, it would offer you privacy and some time to settle your circumstances.”
Alaina jerked her head up with curt laughter. “Of course, Captain, and in those weeks I shall become well established as your paramour. When you return, it will take but a moment or two to bring that fact into being. Oh, wherefore art thou, gentle man?”
“Dammit, girl!” Cole seized the reins again and slapped the horse into motion. “The dregs of your virtue are the greatest stumbling block my temper has ever known.” He glared down at her. “I feel most deeply the burden of your present distress and accept that it is in the greater part my fault. I offered the apartment only with the kindest intent.” He clamped his teeth down hard on the cigar but, after a pause, continued. “I’ve had enough of your pettish mewling. You’ll stay there, and I will hear no further argument.”
Alaina met his dark scowl with a heated glower, but she held her silence, neither yielding nor denying. For a time they wove the streets in stilted truce, while Cole smoked his cigar and let his irritation ebb, finding in its place much provender for thought. Alaina was startled from her own musings by his brief, dry chuckle that did not lend itself to humor but rather some unspoken vexation.
“The night besets you, Captain?” she ventured.
“It has come to mind, Miss MacGaren, that in the past few months three people have entered and affected my life. They had no face I could define, yet each bore the mark of this war. First, there was the ragged boy driven from his home and, I thought, well in need of my attention. Then, I came across a convincingly wayward wench who seared her brand upon my mind and left me searching for a face and a form. And lastly, there was the widow who, though well veiled, had a shape so refined that it stirred my imagination and made me seek her out.” He glanced aside at Alaina. “Now I find they are all one and the same. Tell me, Miss MacGaren, am I the richer or the poorer for my new-found knowledge?”
Alaina’s frown gradually softened into a bittersweet smile as she stared straight into the mists. “Has it yet been put to pen, Captain, that war is hell?”
The buggy passed on in the darkness, the wheels whirling over the cobbled avenue, the steady clatter of hooves rattling, the seat squeaking, but no further word was spoken between the two as they jounced along. The streets were deserted; the ferocity of the storm had driven even the drunkards to shelter, and for a brief time, in this small hour of the morning, it seemed a city devoid of life.
Cole drew rein and halted the buggy in front of the red brick structure where he had once resided. He stepped down, retrieved her valise, and came around to help her down. She sat stiff and rigid on the seat, and he saw her fine-boned profile tilted obstinately to betray her mutinous thoughts. He could not help but wonder at the grit of this young woman. He had known no other quite like her, and the disturbing fact was that she seemed capable of disrupting his whole life no matter what character she portrayed.
“Are you going to be difficult, Miss MacGaren?” he questioned and recognized the cool disdain of those clear, gray eyes as they turned upon him.
“Is it your desire to see me packed off to Ship Island, Captain?” she asked in a low, hushed voice.
Cole braced a hand on the dashboard and stared at her with a puzzled frown. “I think not. I know you to be innocent of at least part of the charges.”
“Then I implore you, sir. Give me some other title. I fear my own is being bandied about in a most frightful manner.”
“Of course.” He touched the brim of his hat obligingly. “My apologies, madam. I shall be more careful.” She could see the shadow of a smile playing across his lips. “Do you have a preference in the matter?”
“None at all, Captain.”
With a wry smile, he offered his hand to help her down. “Al doesn’t seem to fit anymore. Then, of course, there’s Lainie.” At her glare, he shook his head and laughed. “I think not.”
Cole refrained from resting a hand on the small of her back as he escorted her to his apartment door, no matter how natural the urge was to lay it there. As for Alaina, she was apprehensive about entering his apartment, for she no longer had the guise of Al to protect her from those eyes that touched her like she had never been touched before. She waited in troubled silence as he unlocked the door, then glanced around as hurrying footsteps came toward them.
“Captain! Captain Latimer!”
A young lieutenant rapidly approached Cole with a hand held out in greeting, prompting Alaina to turn quickly aside. She sensed Cole moving to block the man’s view of her and was grateful for that small bit of consideration.
“I heard that you had gotten married and moved out, Captain,” the man chortled, eagerly pumping Cole’s hand. “What are you doing back here at this unsaintly hour?”
Cole frowned, realizing the lieutenant had not given up his inquisitive ways or altered his reputation as the worst gossip in the Union Army.
“It’s been a long night, lieutenant, and my wife has had a considerable shock.” And that certainly was no falsehood. “Will you excuse us?”
“Of course, sir. I didn’t mean to impose—”
Cole held the door open for Alaina to precede him, set the wicker case just inside the entrance, and lit a lamp before turning to close the portal. The soldier still lingered in the hall and was craning his neck to get a better glimpse of the black-garbed figure. Cole’s ga
ze cooled, and he left the man no other choice but to make a hasty departure as he bade in a flat tone, “Goodnight, Baxter.”
He pushed the door shut and listened to the fading footsteps, then turned to find Alaina staring at him accusingly.
“I gave you freedom with my name, but I think you’ve carried it a bit far, sir. You let the man think I was Mrs. Latimer.”
Cole shrugged indolently. “If I let him think you’re my wife, you won’t be bothered by other men while I’m gone, and Baxter will have little to gossip about when I’m here.”
“How cozy for you,” she observed with arid sarcasm.
Cole’s brows came together in a harsh scowl as her words pricked his anger. “Perhaps I should consider that you owe me some recompense for letting me marry another woman.” His ire grew as he thought about it. “Should I be grateful? Did you enrich my life by your silence? Girl, I would have been far better off had you not played your game with me.”
Eyeing him uncertainly, Alaina removed her bonnet and ran trembling fingers through her short-cropped hair. He stood before her, tall and powerful, his face austere, his eyes challenging. Knowing he was right, she found no worthy retort or other trace of the reckless bravado that had brought her through thus far.
“I’ll go,” Cole announced more gently, recognizing her fear. He carried her valise into the bedroom where he lit another lamp on the bedside table. He looked at her as she came to stand at the end of the bed and found it hard to drag his eyes away from that fascinating visage. How could she have fooled him so completely? “You know where everything is,” he stated slowly. “I’ll leave a key for you. Be sure to lock the door after I’ve gone.”
“I will,” she murmured timidly, lowering her gaze from his.
“Alaina—” The name came from his lips like a wind sighing through the trees. He reached out to caress a short, silky strand of hair between his fingers, but she snatched away and self-consciously covered her head with an arm.