Rebel Temptress (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  He tried to assess his losses today. Sixteen dead and eight wounded. There had been two other units besides his in the battle today, and Adam knew their losses had been even heavier than his own.

  General Sheridan had ordered the other two units to pull back, leaving Adams' to hold and maintain the bridge. So many lives had been forfeited today on both sides.

  How far away Boston seemed to him now. At the beginning of the war, his ideals had been high. He had thought it would not take long to bring the rebels back into the Union, but that was over two years ago. Adam still believed the Union would win in the end, but at what cost?

  "Begging your pardon, sir, we have two wagons stuck in the mud. One of them has a broken axle and the other one will not budge."

  Adam turned his gaze on his young lieutenant and sighed inwardly. His blue eyes narrowed.

  "What would you suggest, lieutenant?"

  "I think we shall have to abandon the wagons, sir," the young lieutenant answered, feeling uneasy under the close scrutiny of his commanding officer. He shifted uncomfortably when he saw anger flash in the blue eyes.

  "How long have you been with me, soldier?"

  "Eight months, sir," came the quick reply.

  "Eight months, and still you cannot think on your own? If we abandon the wagons, would you have us abandon the wounded men who occupy them as well?"

  "No, sir."

  "Would you then ask them to get out and walk?"

  "No, sir, I hadn't thought. ..."

  "No, lieutenant, you have not thought."

  The eyes of the young lieutenant wavered under the piercing gaze of the major.

  Adam knew he was being unduly harsh to his young aide. He was taking his anger out on a young man who was barely old enough to shave, and who until a few months ago had been a clerk in his father's dry goods store in Philadelphia.

  "I suggest you unhitch the horses from the wagon with the broken axle and hitch them to the other wagon. The added horse flesh should pull the wagon free of the mud. Then transfer the wounded to that wagon. Can you handle that, lieutenant?"

  Lieutenant Harper's face flushed red. "Yes, sir, I will see to it immediately."

  Adam felt the weariness creep into his body. He had had no sleep in over forty-eight hours and saw no prospect of resting in the near future. He watched as his lieutenant unhitched the horses from the crippled wagon. Hearing riders approach, he looked up and saw his sergeant returning.

  As Sergeant Simpson joined him, Adam smiled slightly. The rough, grizzly, red-headed man had been with him for two years, and Adam found he depended on the sergeant a great deal. At times he was Adam's right arm.

  "We spotted a house, sir, just over that rise. It is one of them fancy houses with lots of room."

  Adam grinned broadly at him. "We shall try not to be too uncomfortable there, sergeant."

  Sergeant Simpson removed a plug of tobacco from his pocket and took a chaw and slipped the remaining tobacco back into his pocket. "This is one hell of a storm, sir, and it don't show no signs of letting up."

  Adam nodded in agreement. "Come along, sergeant, let us see this shelter you have found for us."

  * * *

  Honor was awakened by the sounds of loud voices just beyond her bedroom door.

  "I don't care if you does have orders to search the house, you ain't going into this room."

  Honor recognized Darcy's voice, and knew by the tone of it she was ready to do battle with whomever it was she was speaking to.

  "Stand aside," came the curt reply, and Honor heard scuffling as the door was pushed open, admitting a Union soldier flanked by an angry Darcy, who was waving her hands in protest.

  Honor slipped from her bed and reached for her robe that was hung over the back of a chair. It was difficult to slip into the robe with the way her hands were trembling. Her home had been invaded by the enemy. Her heart was racing and fear gnawed at her insides.

  "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but my orders are to bring all occupants of the house below for questioning."

  Honor could not seem to put her hands into the armholes of her robe. The soldier seemed unmoved by her dilemma. Taking her silence as an affront, he grabbed her by the shoulders and propelled her toward the door.

  Honor was aware that Darcy tried to come to her aid but was pushed roughly aside by the hateful man. When they reached the staircase Honor was still struggling to get into her robe. The Yankee, thinking she was trying to resist him, pushed her roughly toward the stairs.

  Honor felt herself falling and grabbed for the railing. The open stairway gaped before her. Reaching out her hand, she missed the railing and felt herself pitch forward. She felt panic, knowing a fall would most probably kill her unborn baby. In that very moment she knew she did not want to lose her baby. Grabbing her stomach, hoping to protect her child, she was aware of someone rushing up the stairs toward her and she felt herself being lifted into strong arms.

  She opened her eyes and stared into a pair of the bluest eyes she had ever seen. The man who had saved her had concern written on his handsome face, but the blue uniform he wore gave evidence that he was her enemy. Fear so strong it threatened to render her unconscious gripped her, and she fought to overcome it. She tried to speak, but no words would issue from between her trembling lips.

  Adam had seen the woman as she appeared at the top of the stairs. Watching her struggle, trying to slip into her robe, he knew she was being hindered by Corporal Bates. He had been about to issue the order for Bates to release her when he saw her falling forward. He would never know how he reached her so quickly, but all at once she was in his arms. He then stared into the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her eyes were deep emerald green, and at the moment they were full of fear and uncertainty. Her hair was a color he had never seen before. It was so light it appeared almost silver.

  Feeling a need to reassure her, he gathered her tightly to him and carried her to the bottom of the stairs. He was startled when his hand accidentally brushed her swollen stomach. He realized she was heavy with child, a fact that her gathered white nightgown had hidden well.

  Aware of her embarrassment, he carried her into the first door he came to, and setting her down, helped her into her robe. Adam felt momentary envy for the unknown man who had fathered the child carried by this lovely woman.

  "Please release me, sir," she whispered.

  Adam had not been aware that he held her by the shoulders.

  Reluctantly he moved his hands and stared into her green eyes. Honor knew her shaky legs would not support her weight. She stumbled and felt the man's strong hands steady her, drawing her against him for support.

  "Hold on to me, ma'am, until you feel strong enough to stand," he told her.

  At that moment Darcy sailed into the room and shoved the man aside. Honor felt relief as Darcy's familiar arms encircled her waist.

  "You harm my baby, and I will deal with you and all the rest of them Yankee scum," Darcy threatened.

  Adam threw back his head and laughed deeply. "Have no fear. She will come to no harm from me. I would be too frightened of the consequences. You strike more fear into my heart than any enemy I have met thus far."

  Honor's anger climbed as she stared into the mocking blue eyes. She felt her courage return as she gave him her haughtiest glare. "How dare you come into my home uninvited, sir? I will ask you to leave at once. If I were a man, I would see that you got your just desserts." She drew herself up to her full height, and the sparkle in her green eyes danced dangerously. "Leave my home this instant.

  The blue eyes twinkled with merriment. "I am afraid you will have to suffer our presence, ma'am. You see, we have injured men who need medical attention immediately."

  "Surely you do not intend to stay here."

  Adam folded his arms across his chest and smiled slightly. "I am afraid I have no choice. But let me assure you that you have nothing to fear from me or my men." His smile deepened. "You will be quite safe, and we shal
l try not to intrude on your privacy."

  Honor lowered herself to the sofa. "How long will you be here?"

  Adam shrugged. "It is difficult to say, but you will not have to suffer our presence one moment longer than is necessary."

  Honor sighed. She knew nothing she could say would make the slightest difference.

  "Madam, may I present myself to you. My name is Major Adam O'Roarke, lately of Boston, Massachusetts." He gave her a gallant bow as his blue eyes twinkled. "How shall I address you?"

  Honor rose to her feet. "If there is ever any occasion for you to address me, which I doubt there will be, you may call me Miss Landau . . . Mrs. Daniels," she corrected hurriedly.

  Adam's face froze. "Which is it, Miss Landau or Mrs. Daniels?"

  "It is Mrs. Daniels," she said, blushing in spite of her anger. "I was married but one day when my husband had to rejoin his unit." She was angry with herself for feeling the need to explain to this man.

  His eyes wandered to her swollen stomach, and she could only guess what he was thinking. Honor was saved from any further comment by the litter bearers who entered the room carrying the wounded men.

  Honor's eyes widened in horror as she saw a young boy with a dirty white bandage tied to his head, with blood seeping through it. She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move for a moment.

  "Lord have mercy," Darcy said, trying to lead Honor from the room. Honor was halfway up the stairs before she knew what she must do.

  "Darcy, help me dress, and then go to the kitchen and boil lots of hot water. Then find Aunt Amanda's medicine bag."

  "You ain't about to do what I is thinking you is, is you?" Darcy said suspiciously.

  "Oh, yes, I am, Darcy, and you are going to help me. It is not Christian to turn one's back on a fellow human being when he is suffering."

  "Them is Yankees."

  "Maybe so, but at the moment they are under my roof, and it does not matter what color uniform they wear."

  Darcy mumbled the whole time she was helping Honor dress and as she left her to go to the kitchen to boil the water. Honor twisted her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and put on a green pinafore that helped disguise her swollen stomach. She then went to the linen closet and gathered up an armload of white linens which she carried down the stairs.

  At the bottom of the steps she was met by a redheaded man wearing the stripes of a sergeant.

  "Here, little lady, you should not be carrying such a heavy load." Simpson took the linens from her and smiled. "Where would you like me to take these for you, ma'am?"

  "Into my study, sergeant. I want to use them for bandages."

  Simpson's mouth fell open. "You want to tend our wounded, ma'am?"

  "Of course. Why should you be surprised? We in the South have compassion for the wounded, no matter what you may have heard to the contrary."

  Adam watched from the doorway, frowning slightly.

  "I think what my sergeant meant but was too much of a gentleman to say, is you should not be tending the wounded in your delicate condition."

  Honor turned to him quickly. "You are not burdened by being a gentleman, are you, major?"

  Adam laughed. "Not in the least, ma'am. Now, if you will allow us to use your linens, we will wish you a good night."

  Honor brushed past him and entered the room where there were wounded men occupying every available space. She felt the major beside her and spoke softly. "I am not one of your men that I take orders from you. This is still my home; I shall do as I please."

  Adam smiled down at her and gave her a mock bow. "By all means, then, do as you will, but do not say I did not warn you."

  Honor bent down to examine the young boy she had seen earlier.

  "Have you no doctor traveling with you?"

  "But of course," Adam said, taking her by the arm and pulling her to her feet and leading her to one of the wounded men. "Mrs. Daniels, may I introduce you to Lieutenant Wilson, doctor and gentleman."

  The man tried to rise, but Honor knelt down beside him and put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

  "You must not move, doctor. Are you badly hurt?"

  Beads of perspiration stood out on the doctor's forehead and he looked very pale. "I took a musket ball in my leg, and I seem to have lost a lot of blood. Forgive me, ma'am for not rising, but I feel as weak as an infant."

  "Rest easy doctor. While I do not have your skills, I am very capable of following your orders. It would seem the first thing for us to do is remove the musket ball from your leg. Then, if you are able, you can advise us on how to proceed with the rest of the wounded."

  "Ma'am, you should not be here. This is no place for a lady," the doctor told her, feeling admiration for the slight girl who was determined to help the enemy.

  "I will remove the musket ball if you will allow it, doctor. I can assure you I have done it before."

  The doctor could not help smiling at her. "How many times have you removed a bullet from a man, ma'am?"

  She returned his smile, "Actually, it was not a bullet at all, but a large sliver of wood, doctor, and it was not from a man, but from my bay mare."

  The doctor laughed out loud. "That qualifies you, then. You will find my instrument bag on the desk."

  Darcy came in carrying a steaming kettle of water. Honor quickly rolled up her sleeves and washed her hands. She opened the doctor's bag and spread the instruments out on a fold of white linen cloth. The room became quiet, the only sound the rain as it peppered against the windows.

  Honor's heart was in her mouth as she picked up a pair of scissors and cut the doctor's pant leg to just above the knee. The wound was red and swollen. She could see the musket ball, and it was very deep. Picking up a sharp instrument, she prepared herself mentally. She jumped when the instrument was taken from her hand forcefully and the major pushed her aside.

  She watched as he inserted the instrument into the wound. Blood flowed freely now as he probed the wound. Honor held the doctor's leg steady as the major removed the musket ball. Honor then poured disinfectant into the wound and bound it with a strip from a white linen tablecloth.

  The doctor was biting his lip so he would not cry out in pain. Honor forced herself to watch the proceedings, unwilling to let the enemy major see how sick she was feeling.

  "A little souvenir, Hank. Now maybe you will be a little more compassionate with the men you go digging around in," Adam laughed.

  There was a frown on Honor's lovely face. She was not even aware that both men were watching her. When she finished with the doctor, she moved on to the young boy. The doctor tried to rise once more, but found he was still too weak.

  "There is nothing you can do for the boy except place a clean bandage on his head. I doubt he will make it until morning," the doctor told her.

  Tears stung Honor's eyes as she cleaned and bandaged the boy's wound. She and the Yankee major moved from one wounded man to another until all the men had received attention. The doctor had lost consciousness, and Darcy and the redheaded sergeant were mopping the blood stains from the polished wooden floor.

  The major was placing a blanket over the young boy when Honor went down on her knees beside him. She took his hand in hers and held on to it tightly, as though willing him to live. Closing her eyes, she prayed for his recovery. When she opened her eyes, she looked into the blue eyes of the major, who was kneeling beside her.

  He gently pushed a tress of her silver hair out of her face. "You should go to your room now, Mrs. Daniels. You have done all you can do here."

  "I cannot bear to think of leaving this boy. He is so young."

  "How old are you? You seem not much older than him."

  "Almost seventeen," she said without thinking.

  "Then you are more than a year younger than corporal Davis, here."

  Tears came to Honor's eyes. "I have been sitting here thinking about his family. It is a sad thing when a young boy is given a gun and told to go out and kill his fellow man."

  Adam s
at down beside her. "It has always been so, Mrs. Daniels. As long as there are wars, there will be young men who will die."

  "I wish it did not have to be so."

  "Would it surprise you to hear that I share your sentiments?"

  Honor looked into his face. Black curly hair fell across his forehead. His blue eyes were all the more striking because of his deeply tanned skin. She had met him for the first time a few hours earlier, and yet they now shared a deep bond—that of trying to save lives and bring comfort to the wounded.

  "It would not surprise me," she told him softly.

  Adam stood up and helped her to her feet. "You must think of your baby, Mrs. Daniels. I want to thank you for your help, but I really must insist that you go to your room now. If it will make you feel any better I will sit beside the boy for a while."

  Honor nodded and walked wearily toward the door. She had never been so tired in her life, but doubted she would sleep with enemy soldiers in her house. Not that she was frightened; for some unknown reason she felt she could trust Major Adam O'Roarke.

  Adam watched Honor's departure, she had not cringed or swooned at the sight of blood, as many women of his acquaintance would have. He felt admiration for her, and something more he did not care to analyze at the moment.

  6

  Sergeant Simpson stood before Honor's bedroom door. He started to knock and then paused. Removing his hat, he tucked it under his arm and made an attempt to smooth down his unruly red hair. Then he tapped lightly on the door and waited for a response.

  "Who is it?" Honor asked.

  "It's Sergeant Simpson, ma'am. Could I have a word with you?"

  The door opened and Honor stood hesitantly before him. "What is it you wish to see me about, sir?"

  He felt a bit uneasy. She was the loveliest little lady he had ever seen. He wondered if she was aware of her own beauty and the effect it had on others. His admiration of her sprang from the first night he had seen her, when she had worked so tirelessly tending the wounded men who were her enemy and had invaded her home. She was so delicate and fragile looking, and from what he could gather, she was all alone but for the black woman, Darcy.