Soldier in Her Lap

by Haley Whitehall

  Instead of being filled with terror, her body welled with sorrow. All she could think about was Lucas. Would he come back for her? Or would their argument and passionate kiss serve as their parting?

  Even though he was a coward, she still had feelings for him. One argument and one confession could not quell the stirrings in her belly or the flutter in her chest.

  Lucas had left his mark on her heart. If only he would return to his regiment….

  A soldier hadn’t landed in her lap after all, a deserter had. God worked in mysterious ways, yes. Did he mean to bring the two of them together?

  Chapter Eight

  Lucas didn’t want to leave Sophia alone with her father and Reverend Rawlins. They both looked like they could spit venom, and they could hurt her. Her papa already had, he remembered all her bruises vividly. He had to go back and get her away from there even if she never agreed to marry him. What kind of man would he be if he left a beautiful, innocent woman at the mercy of a religious fanatic and an abusive drunk?

  I wouldn’t be a man.

  Somehow, some way he had to rescue her. It would be a tragedy for such a beautiful woman to be trapped in Clark Springs forever. If she was going to be trapped, he wanted it to be in his arms. He groaned, thinking about kissing her lips, feeling her bosom pressed against his chest.

  Their stolen moments of pleasure only made him crave more. Thinking of his lust at a time like this was wrong, but he couldn’t stop. Really it wasn’t lust, it was love.

  I love her. He repeated that over and over again until his heart both warmed and ached. Leaving without her was not an option.

  How could he go back? That was the next question. Her father was eager to shoot a hole through him.

  Waiting for the right time was key. As much as he wanted to return to the house right this minute and whisk her away, he couldn’t. After a couple days, her father would simmer down—hopefully. He would try then.

  After he’d made sure Sophia was safe from her father, they’d talk about sharing their lives together. He’d beg for forgiveness, do anything she’d ask if there was even a glimmer of hope they could be together.

  He wanted to be her man, protect her and provide for her. He could do that, too, if it wasn’t for this damn war. War. Soldiers. She’d said she’d wanted a soldier…. His mind reeled through several scenarios, arriving time and time again to the same idea.

  He could be her soldier.

  ***

  “What were you thinking?” Papa bellowed.

  Her chin quivered. She hadn’t been thinking—her body just reacted. Words would not come, only sobs. Papa could beat her and the pain wouldn’t be as severe as watching Lucas disappear. Likely, out of her life forever.

  “The way he was touching you, the way you were kissing….” Mr. Rawlins said in a cold, even tone. “That was shameful, sinful.”

  “It wouldn’t have to be sinful if we got married,” she said.

  Papa grunted. “A kiss doesn’t ruin a woman, thankfully.”

  Mr. Rawlins advanced toward her, grabbing her by her shoulders, swinging her around, and pressing her against the wall. The impact took her by surprise and she groaned. Mr. Rawlins had never before laid a hand on her.

  “How much of a whore are you?” he asked in a low growl. “Did you open your legs for him?”

  “No!”

  “Don’t lie to me, girl. You’re buried in enough sins already.”

  “I’m not lying. I swear to God.”

  Mr. Rawlins huffed and released his grip. “That’s one small blessing any way. You could have chosen a better man to moon after. He’s a deserter! No decent soldier would recuperate at your house for four weeks.”

  Yes, but he’s a better man than either of you. Being a deserter was far less a sin than being an abusive alcoholic. Sophia struggled to keep the anger out of her eyes. If she didn’t look truly apologetic, they’d make sure she was.

  Mr. Rawlins pointed to the middle of the sitting room. “Get on your knees,” he ordered.

  Sophia’s windpipe collapsed and she wheezed for air. Head down, she shuffled to the spot he indicated and sank to the floor.

  Putting a hand on the top of her head, he closed his eyes. After a tense minute, he removed his hand. “I do not feel a demon inside her.”

  Papa gripped his chest and sighed. “Thank God.” Papa looked so relieved she would have thought a doctor had explained she wasn’t on her deathbed.

  “Pray hard for mercy, girl,” Mr. Rawlins said.

  “And pray out loud,” Papa added. “I want to hear you beg the good Lord to absolve your sins.”

  She opened her mouth; the words rose up her throat, but stalled on the tip of her tongue. How could she ask for forgiveness when she felt she hadn’t done anything wrong? Her gaze shifted from Papa to Mr. Rawlins. Neither man looked very merciful, and they claimed to be Christians. Remembering Papa hitting her until her face was swollen and black and blue, she clamped her eyes shut and began praying. “Dear Lord, I know I am a sinner. I humbly come before you asking for forgiveness….”

  Her knees ached. Both men continued to loom over her, silently demanding she continue her prayers. How long had it been? Hours? Not a drop of moisture remained in her mouth, and it now seemed impossible to generate any more saliva.

  “Can I have a glass of water?” she asked in a weak, raspy voice.

  “No,” Mr. Rawlins said. “Pray.”

  Sophia coughed and nodded, her windpipe rough and sore. She shifted her weight and sharp, needling pain shot up her legs. Papa and Mr. Rawlins kept her praying until rays of light streamed through the large window.

  Papa stood in front of her, sneering. Grabbing her wrists, he pulled her to her feet.

  She cried out, but he ignored her and shoved her toward the stairs. “You better get some sleep before chores. And get used to staying in your bedroom. I’m going to make sure you don’t sneak out of this house.”

  Lucas sank onto a boulder, darkness falling all around him. Ever since he’d left Sophia’s house, time seemed to tick by five times as fast. The hard rock poked into his seat. Time for him to rejoin his company—to be her hero.

  He shifted on the boulder, but the rock continued to prod him. Discomfort was the least he deserved. Even as he’d justified his actions he’d known he was in the wrong.

  This war had been a crazy venture to start with. Any man with half his brains would have understood that. The North had all the factories and resources and more manpower to fill the ranks.

  Still, knowing the South would lose the war wasn’t an excuse. Sophia had said he was a disappointment, with her eyes.

  What should his next move be? He had to get Sophia away from her drunken father and to some place safe. And he had to beg her forgiveness, promise to be her soldier.

  Despite the peril involved, he’d return to the ranks and fight until the end of the war. However long that would be.

  Sophia expected him to do his duty. His country expected him to do his duty. His family expected him to do his duty.

  He needed to right his wrong.

  Male voices in the distance drew his attention. Quickly standing, he took a couple steps, and pressed his back against a tree trunk. Soldiers’ voices. Confederate.

  “Search the area,” a gruff voice ordered. “Looks like a good place for a deserter to hide.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lucas forced saliva down his throat. If they caught him now, he might not ever be able to smooth things over with Sophia.

  He scanned the woods, looking for a better place to hide. Backing over the bank and lying flat on the ground seemed the best option. Maybe they’d forget to look there.

  Edging in that direction, he cursed at the sound of each footstep. Thankfully he didn’t spy any Confederate uniforms. Yet. They were searching the other end of the woods, and it would be a while before they worked this way.

  Lucas crouched over the bank, pressing his stomach to the ground. He’d made so mu
ch noise he feared he’d drawn attention to himself. No one shouted about finding a deserter. No one threatened to shoot him. He dared to breathe and began covering himself with brush.

  Surviving this search was all he asked. I’m going to turn myself in, Lord. Please guide them past me.

  When they were given the order to leave the area, Lucas silently cheered. Fear held him in place—he didn’t move for several more hours just in case they decided to come back. Muscles stiff, he pushed his cold body to a sitting position and bit his tongue.

  It would be too dangerous to go see Sophia tonight. Tomorrow night he’d approach her window. Head bowed, he rubbed his eyes, scolding himself for envisioning her naked. Even if she hadn’t been fully dressed when she met him she’d at least been in a nightgown. And after her father ran him off at the point of a musket, thinking about lying with Sophia should be the furthest from his mind. He wanted her though. And he wanted her to be proud of him.

  It was time he returned to the ranks, to the front, to being a target for the Yanks. He’d do anything to win her respect and her love. But after he rejoined the army, who would look after her?

  Her father certainly wasn’t going to. He couldn’t leave her alone with that man. In a drunken rage he could fly off the handle and…. Lucas quickly brought that thought to a halt. He had to ensure her safety if it was the last thing he did.

  He’d promised to take her away, to help her escape this life of drudgery. Waiting until after the war to make that happen was not an option. Sophia was in danger now, and there was always a chance he wouldn’t live to see the country at peace again.

  A simple but brilliant plan clicked into place. If he couldn’t be here in person to take care of her, he could at least provide her with enough money to start a life somewhere else. Something good would come out of his desertion—the ability to give Sophia a train ticket to wherever she wanted to go. All she had to do was turn him in. He’d return to the ranks and then he’d find her after the war.

  His spirits lifted at the thought of helping her, and his conscience eased knowing turning himself in was the right thing to do. The lightness in his chest surprised him. He hadn’t realized how guilt and worry had weighted him down. Energy coursed through his veins as if he’d drunk a gallon of coffee. He stood ready for what was to come.

  Yes. This would work. It had to work.

  Returning to his regiment could give them both a fresh start.

  Now he had to venture back to her house, tell her the news, tell her good-bye, and make sure she was still going to marry him. And hopefully not get shot in the process. Easier said than done. His giddiness fled and his gut clenched.

  The dour image of her father gripping the musket flashed in his mind. He’d charged the battlefield facing hundreds of muskets. Braving her father’s wrath couldn’t be worse. Still, his gut churned, bile sloshing against his stomach walls. Returning to the farm wouldn’t be pleasant.

  Hopefully the outcome would be sweet and replace the sour taste in his mouth.

  Tomorrow night would be the night he’d set everything straight. Would she agree to his plan? And if so, would she marry him?

  ***

  Sophia paced her bedroom, worrying her fingers in the folds of her dress. Did he not dare to approach the house? It would be too much to ask for him to stick around after Papa threatened to shoot him on sight. Lucas intended to head to his home in Tennessee and was likely on his way now.

  She’s barely been out of her bedroom in forty-eight hours. Papa watched her do her chores from the shade of the porch. At least no longer drank himself into a stupor because he had to keep an eye on her. Maybe something positive came from this situation.

  Now she really felt like a slave being eyed by the overseer. He hadn’t tried to beat her with his belt in a long time, but if she crossed him again, she was sure he would. Slapping her had failed to knock sense into her, as he had said. Oh, Lucas. I need you to come for me, rescue me. It would be too dangerous to come in the daytime. Maybe he would try in the night.

  At the same time, she worried if he showed his head at their house again, Papa would kill him. Mr. Rawlins would officiate over the body and the whole murder would be swept under the rug.

  What can I do?

  If she ran her fingers over the same swatch of cloth any more, she’d create a hole. Sagging onto the bed, she put her head in her hands. She should have listened to Lucas when he said they should run away together and not let the opportunity pass her by. Asking for the truth hadn’t been unreasonable, had it?

  Being held prisoner in this room seemed to change her outlook on everything. It didn’t matter anymore that Lucas had deserted. The whole war didn’t matter to her at all. Tears hovered in her eyes. She had been so stubborn, so foolish.

  Princely perfection didn’t exist. Lucas was just a man—a good man. Unlike Papa and Mr. Rawlins, he’d treat her right—do his share of the work and take care of her. Her heart ripped in two as a painful revelation washed over her. She loved Lucas Grady with all his faults.

  And now Papa held her prisoner like a princess locked in the high tower. Did he intend to keep her that way for the rest of her life? Maybe in time she could grow her hair as long as Rapunzel, and some brave man could climb up her tresses and into her room to rescue her.

  She laughed bitterly at that childish idea. The tears she had been holding back broke free, trailing a hot path down her cheeks. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her knees, curling into a ball on top of the covers, wishing to make herself so small she disappeared.

  This was no life.

  Her sobs grew louder until she wailed. She needed to be with Lucas and feast upon his chiseled frame. Exhausted and unable to squeeze out more tears, she changed into her nightgown and crawled under the covers.

  Past experience had taught her that banging on the door and pleading with Papa to let her out, wasted breath. Sleep served as a temporary relief from her misery.

  Except she couldn’t sleep. It added to her torture. Lying on her back, she listened to the rain pounding on the roof, the constant rhythmic drumming almost hypnotic. Almost. She threw back the covers with more force than necessary. Climbing out of bed, she padded over to the window, pulling back the curtains to watch the river running down the glass.

  She turned to walk back to her bed when she heard a clinking sound. Pausing, she focused, listening hard. Had she imagined the noise? Another clink. It sounded like something striking glass. She returned to the rain-coated pane and peered through the darkness.

  Lucas stood on the ground tossing rocks against the glass. Her heart leapt and fluttered all the way down. He had come for her!

  Opening the window, she peeked her head out. “Lucas,” she mouthed more than spoke, not wanting Papa to hear.

  Water dripped off the brim of his hat; his entire uniform clung to him. Waving, he motioned for her to come down.

  She needed to see him, too, almost as badly as she needed to breathe. “Lucas, please help me.”

  “Help you how, ma’am?”

  Ma’am? Why was he suddenly formal? Was he bitter at her for not seeing him for three days? If she had been bitter, wouldn’t he have moved on? She had to find out. “Can you toss me some rope? I need to climb out the window.”

  “Climb out the window?”

  “Papa has me locked in my room ever since he ran you off.”

  Lucas cursed. “I’ll get the rope. But you promise me you’ll be careful. You break your leg and I’d never forgive myself.”

  “I promise. Hurry.”

  Lucas ran to the barn and came back with rope draped around his arm. On the third attempt, he managed to throw her the rope. She tied it to her bed frame and approached the window, her pulse ringing in her ears.

  I can do this. I have to be with Lucas.

  Slowly she worked her way to the ground, the rain whipping her face and drenching her nightgown. By the time she stood on the lawn, the wet fabric clung to her skin, showing off all
her curves.

  Lucas took in the sight and grinned. “Nice to see you again, Sophia.”

  “We both need to keep warm,” she said. “I didn’t nurse you back to health just to let you catch cold.”

  He took her hand, and they ran to the barn. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you out of those clothes.” The mischievousness in his voice did not go unnoticed.

  Chapter Nine

  Lucas wrapped a thick horse blanket around Sophia’s shoulders. “I’m worried about you being soaking wet in nothing but a nightgown.”

  She forced a smile and tried not to shiver. “I’m fine.” Really, she wasn’t. And she sensed he knew. The blanket provided some warmth, but her wet nightgown still chilled her skin. Shedding her wet clothes and hugging Lucas seemed like a lovely idea. The heat of their bodies intertwined would warm both of them.

  He stood close to her, his masculine presence comforting. Tears sprung to her eyes. She’d missed him so much.

  “Oh, Sophia,” he said, resting a hand on her collarbone. “I hate to see you so troubled. I never wanted to cause you pain.”

  “You didn’t cause me pain,” she said in a broken voice. After a moment she worked through her sobs. “Papa. It has always been Papa.”

  “What happened after I left?” Lucas asked, moving a barrel over to her so she could sit.

  Her legs turned to sawdust, unable to hold her weight, and she sank to the barrel. “Papa’s friend Mr. Rawlins.” She rolled her eyes. “Reverend Rawlins. He told Papa you were the devil in disguise, and it was their responsibility to keep me safe. Believing him as always, Papa had to make sure I stayed put.”

  Lucas’s eyes flared. “That son of a bitch!” His tongue wetted his lips. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “It is all right. You’re just telling the truth.” Sophia shrugged, her shoulders suddenly heavy.

  Lucas bared his teeth. “It is time I had it out with your father.” He strode toward the barn door.

  Sophia jumped up and grabbed his arm, stilling him. If he fought with Papa tonight, one of them would likely wind up dead.