No Greater Glory

by Cindy Nord

  She leaned against the closest column and sighed. Restless anxiety washed over her. With the disturbing news she’d overheard today, she knew something had to be done to alert the city. Her concern lay only for the citizens of Fredericksburg, not with army matters. If the men of this country wanted to kill each other, she wouldn’t stand in their way. But innocent people always got caught in the middle. She smirked. Well this time…oh yes, this time she had information to prevent such a catastrophe. She would make sure news of the impending Federal attack got to the city officials.

  From the shadows, a deep voice interrupted her scheming. “It’s a bit chilly to be outside,” he said.

  Emaline recognized the man the instant he stepped into the moonlight. The colonel’s very presence wrought havoc with her emotions as well as her plans. A tremor skimmed through her when he leaned forward, resting a black boot on the bottom step. His arm draped his upraised knee. “But this gives me a chance to thank you for helping the doctor.”

  He paused when revealing shuffles indicated several soldiers ambling past. He turned his head toward them.

  Emaline scanned the colonel’s profile, the handsome contours strong and well defined. Her belly muscles tensed, the tightness spiraling downward when he turned back to her.

  “As I was saying,” he continued. “He’s a colorful fellow, don’t you think?”

  She glanced away. A queasy regret engulfed her, knowing she would betray him tonight.

  “Colorful doesn’t quite fit,” she quipped.

  He chuckled. “Did you happen to see the sunset this evening? It reminded me of home.”

  His relaxed mood and absurd question startled her, and her gaze raked back to his. A strong urge to flee zipped down her spine. Just as quickly, she dismissed the sensation.

  He continued—his eyes luminous. “This god-awful cold makes me wish I’d never come east. I miss Tucson and the dry heat of the desert.”

  “What’s Tucson?”

  “My home. Out west.”

  “Well, why don’t you resign your post and hurry back there. In fact, if you left tonight, you’d be enjoying the heat of your Tucson desert and those beckoning sunsets that much sooner.”

  One dark brow peaked. “If I were to leave, they’d simply send a replacement. And I assure you, he’d not be nearly as accommodating as I have been.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  “Contrary to what you think, Mrs. McDaniels, I’ve been extremely patient with you. Remember, you did try to shoot me.” Without warning, his smile transformed into a hard shove against her heart. “And I can promise you another officer would’ve dealt with your…spirit much differently.”

  The smile she offered barely moved her lips. “I was merely defending my home and people. If the tables were turned, I’m sure you’d do the same.”

  He replied without hesitation, his words direct. “When you say your people, you mean your slaves. And no, the tables could not be turned because I would never enslave Negroes. Among other things, we’re fighting for their freedom.”

  Issuing her most direct glare, Emaline leaned forward. “I too abhor slaveholding cruelty, among other things…” She paused and scanned him from head to toe. “And upon the death of my husband, I changed many things at Shapinsay. My servants had the option to leave if they wanted to long before your President issued his proclamation…and most did.” Her chin lifted and a rush of heat burned her cheeks. “But these ‘enslaved Negroes’, as you call Euley and the others, are here of their own free will. I love them as if they’re my own family, and have even taught them how to read and write.” Her heart slugged hard against her ribcage, forcing her words out in a clipped rush. “I shall always be grateful to them for their loyalty.” She straightened, leveling her chin. Why did she feel such an oppressive need to explain her views to this man? She owed him nothing.

  In fact, he should be apologizing to her.

  His foot scuffed the step as he replanted his boot. The abrasive noise bounced up each nerve in her spine. “Well, I certainly commend you for your bold decision, Mrs. McDaniels, but among Southerners, you are in the minority.”

  “Minority or not, Colonel, is totally irrelevant to me. This is how I feel.” Firelight played across his face, and Emaline eased back against the uncomfortable wooden column. Having a conversation with this man about servitude, the weather and sunsets, or any other absurd topic, unsettled her. She forced her thoughts back into control, stifling the unease that fluttered inside. With an important mission to accomplish tonight, she must make certain he did not become suspicious. Indeed, the blue-coated beast would not best her this time. She tamped down her puzzling frustrations, and presented a dazzling smile.

  “Isn’t it ever cold in Tucson?”

  She actually saw his jaw clench.

  “Nothing like this,” he said, “except in the mountains, of course. There’s snow in the passes, but not in the lower elevations.” He abruptly changed the subject. “Doc said your name’s Emaline. May I call you that?” She nodded, ignoring the thrumming rush of blood that surged through her. “Mine’s Reece. Please use that, if you’d like. It’ll make things easier.”

  Easier?

  This man apparently thought personalizing their names would force her back inside. “Reece,” she softly said just to prove him wrong. “Colonel Reece Cutteridge. Yes, the name fits you. All the hard, rough edges match up with the even harder, rougher-edged man.”

  A mixture of humor and intrigue danced in his dark eyes. “I’ve been called many things, but rough-edged is one I shall remember.”

  His laugh, rich and solid, oozed around Emaline’s animosity. Heat wrapped the back of her neck, slipped over her scalp, then settled into two hot spots on her cheeks.

  She scrambled for control of the conversation and her reaction to this man. “This area here—this weather, is all I’ve ever known.”

  “You mean you’ve never been up north?”

  The honeycombed light beyond the veranda held her spellbound, and she silently begged for a miracle to stop the ludicrous flutter inside her. “Nothing farther north ever interested me.”

  “I don’t have much use for it either,” he said, spilling another warm chuckle over her. “All my interests lie out west.”

  “And what might those interests be?” Someone as stalwart as this raw-boned brute probably had a wife and a dozen children awaiting his return.

  “Dos Caballos.” Two fingers rose as he finished his sentence. “It’s Spanish for two horses. Dos Caballos is my ranch.” His hand dropped back to his knee.

  “And is there a wife out west with those two horses?” Dear God! I actually asked him? Why should she care if he had a dozen wives with horses?

  His smile vanished. “There’s no wife. Most women aren’t able to endure that type of living.”

  Emaline stiffened. What could a ranch out west possibly require from a woman that plantation life these past years did not demand? Instead of challenging him, however, she baffled herself with another intrusion into his private life. “Don’t you have any family?”

  He nodded. “My sister, Colleen. I call her Callie. The ranch is well established, and she’s managing things in my absence.” Smoothness returned to his lips. “Callie’s one of those rare women who can handle the wildness of the West.”

  Mystified, Emaline simply nodded. Somehow, this silly, civil conversation portrayed him as flesh and blood, a living, breathing mortal—not some judgmental, dark-eyed heathen who tied up all her spiraling emotions.

  “I run horses,” he continued. “The ranch has over ten thousand head. We sell them to the army. That’s how I ended up back East.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice your buckskin when you rode in. He’s obviously not an army-issued Morgan. Is he one of yours?”

  “Saguaro? Yes. I broke him myself. We’ve been together for a while. Since I’m an officer, I can choose my own mount, so I prefer to ride him.” He shifted his legs and leaned forwa
rd again. “But what about you? Any family members other than a brother?”

  The words came too easy. “My husband died of cholera in the spring of fifty-nine, and we had no children. I’ve only Brennen left.” Her voice coiled into a soft whisper. “That is, if he returns from the war.” Emaline’s mood shifted abruptly. She should not be serving up such private slices of her life to this man.

  “If he’s anything like you, I’m certain he’ll return.”

  “Like me?” She stared at him.

  “You’re a survivor. When your brother returns, things will be better for you.”

  Better? First, you confiscate my food and destroy my home, then counsel me on the cruelties of slavery. And now you have the gall to dollop out hope? How dare you!

  She pushed away from the column and gestured toward the clearing behind him, clinging to her bitterness like a lifeline. “Take a look around, Colonel.” She refused to use his name. “Do you see the damage made by your scores of horses and wagons? Or the empty smokehouse, henhouse and storage sheds? You’ve left me little to feed my people, enslaved as they are in their miserable life of bondage and chains.” Sweat beaded her forehead even as the icy wind nipped at her face. “In fact, what tattered remnants of prosperity I had left has been effectively vouchered by you! Will things be better? I think not. In fact, it’s because of you that nothing will ever be the same again.”

  Her thumping heart rattled her deeper than even her mocking words could reach. She turned, but the heel of her slipper caught in the hem of her cloak. Even though she managed to balance herself, he instantly responded, mounting the steps in two strong strides.

  His hands slipped around her arms to steady her.

  Emaline stared up at him. Under the rim of his slouch hat, his eyes narrowed and he studied her from beneath half-closed lids.

  The camps beyond the front lawns evaporated.

  Her harsh words of moments before faded. A maddening, nameless pain returned. Her husband’s nearness had never created such an unguarded, unexplainable disturbance inside her—and only from the mere pressure of the colonel’s hand. The craving for a man’s touch, cloaked for years inside her widow’s body, roused from its lengthy slumber and stirred fully back to life. Try as she might, Emaline could not ignore its beckoning. Regardless of the war, despite the differences in their worlds, he captivated her. He had at first glance. The aroma of leather and wood smoke embraced her, along with the warm musky notes of coffee and horses; subtle fragrances that only underscored the masculinity that oozed so easily from this man.

  Emaline couldn’t swallow past the knot in her throat. For an instant, merely a fraction of a second, she envisioned herself resting against him, his comforting, commanding presence made even more enticing by its very wickedness.

  “Go back inside,” he said, his breath ruffling the wisps of hair that had escaped her braid. ’Twas a miracle that gave her the strength to wrench free from his hold. Another miracle propelled her across the veranda.

  A ragged curse spilled from Reece when the front door slammed. He leaned against the pillar, his fingers straining flat against the white column. Flakes of paint drifted to the weathered wood beside his boot. A stab of desire lanced straight through him, and he squeezed his eyes tight against the heady sensation.

  Oh yes, he’d managed to force her back inside, but at a staggering cost.

  Goddamnit. Don’t touch her. Not ever again.

  He shoved away from the column and descended the steps, heading straight for his tent and the unopened bottle of whiskey. The bracing liquid would help quash the fires of wanting a woman he would never take. But could it burn away the craving he’d just glimpsed in those incredible evergreen eyes?

  Chapter Three

  Shapinsay shimmered beneath the glow of a brittle moon. Silver light spilled across the barn and stables, the summer kitchen, washhouse and chicken coup. Emaline eased out into the clearing. The stench of mold welled up around her in musty waves when she crept past the water wells. She flitted in and out of the shadows. And fifty feet later, she flattened up against the weathered wall of the stable.

  From inside the soft whickering of horses greeted her. With an ancestry dating back nearly a century, each sleek Andalusian was worth hundreds and all were Benjamin’s pride and joy. He’d spent years developing the herd, placing a few choice stallions into stud when the highly sought service met Benjamin’s equally high price.

  Several seconds passed while Emaline caught her breath. Satisfied no one could see her, she moved across the open yard. When she reached the blacksmith shed, she winged a prayer heavenward in hopes Tacker had reached the boat dock on the Rappahannock per her instructions earlier this evening. Just before supper, she’d visited the quarters and informed her servants of her plan. They begged her to send Tacker with the news, but Emaline ignored their pleas. Fredericksburg officials would be wary of information of such magnitude delivered by him, fearing it to be a trick. No, she would have to be the one to go. And with bigger plans than fishing tonight, the little dinghy would carry her ten miles downriver to the city.

  A tangled boxwood ran fifty feet behind the stables.

  Emaline dropped to her knees and crawled the distance. The sound of shuffling feet halted her as a sentry on patrol passed by just on the other side of the hedge. Her breath caught, but several anxious moments later, the man moved on, continuing his circuit. Several moments after that, Emaline resumed her quest and reached the rough post of the broken fence line.

  She rested her head against the splintered wood, and calmed her pounding heart. The drum of galloping horses echoed in the distance. She peered in the direction of the sound, but the darkness and bracing breeze cloaked the riders. With time, the hoof beats faded. Despite the malevolence of November’s wind, perspiration beaded her forehead. Making certain the sentry had moved from sight, Emaline scrambled to her feet and then broke into a run across the icy ground.

  Lifeless tobacco stalks emerged before her like ragged corpses. Clods of earth caught on the heels of her riding boots, nearly tripping her. She pressed onward and thirty minutes later, the brackish smell and the rushing splash of the Rappahannock greeted her.

  She chanced a quick glance back over the fields.

  In the far distance, washed in amber by the enemy camp, her columned mansion glowed. The sight refueled her purpose and Emaline dragged in a sustaining breath. She worked her way down the embankment, rocks and bushes hampering her progress. Reaching the pathway, she skirted past a dense copse of trees that lined the water’s edge. In summer, the willows provided much needed relief from a glaring sun, but tonight the tangled branches grabbed her hair and cape and whispered of unseen dangers.

  I’ve come too far to give up now. She pushed onward.

  Her foot slipped and both hands flew out to brace her fall. Her elbow crashed down upon the rocks provoking a sudden, sharp pain. She stifled a cry, climbed back to her feet and kept going. A sudden gathering of clouds covered the moon and stole the pale light. With outstretched hands, Emaline shuffled another twenty paces until she heard the faint thud of wood against wood.

  “Bless you, Tacker,” she whispered. Following the slapping din to the tiny boat, she grasped the rope and slicked her hands along the corded length to the knot. It loosened, and sent her emotions soaring.

  Suddenly, the light from a lucifer split the darkness and wafted the sulfuric stench over her. Emaline gasped and whirled to find the source. Several dark forms stood on the crest of the riverbank. From the cluster of soldiers, a tall figure descended the hill to loom before her.

  “I knew you’d try something like this.” The voice identified her captor seconds before the clouds parted and moonlight flooded over the colonel’s face. A raging storm cloud gathered in his dark eyes, anger raining down on her. Her gaze darted left and right, weighing the possibility of escape. Reading her intent, Reece signaled his men to secure the boat. “Did she speak to or dispatch anyone else?” He directed the quest
ion into the darkness behind her. And seconds later, a shadowy figure emerged from the river path she’d just traversed.

  “No, sir. She met no one.” The soldier clothed in dark wool brushed past her to join his comrades.

  Her throat tightened and she fought back a sob.

  He had me followed?

  Would the current be strong enough to whisk her toward Fredericksburg? If she could remain afloat, surely someone downstream would rescue her. She shifted her foot toward the water’s edge, but hesitated a second too long.

  Reece clamped his hand around her upper arm, his fingers biting into her skin through the cape.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he grated. A faint trace of whiskey reached out to tease her. “It’s too damn cold for a swim, and I’m not getting wet trying to save your idiotic ass. Good God, woman, you never cease to amaze me. Sergeant Conners!” he bellowed.

  A soldier stepped forward. “Yes, sir.”

  “Walk her back to the upstairs library. And if she gives you any trouble, you have my permission to bind and gag her.”

  “Yes, sir. I will, sir.”

  Reece turned and climbed the embankment, the chink of spurs echoing from the river rock. The remaining soldiers turned and followed him, carrying away the light. Moments later, the sound of galloping horses faded back into the night.

  Emaline’s vision shifted from the empty space where Reece had stood to the lone soldier. He motioned for her to move up the incline, but she shuffled sideways.

  The grizzled man blocked her way. “Don’t make me bind you, ma’am.” He pulled her away from the river and onto the main wagon road. An icy gust of wind whipped at her sodden cloak. “You should be glad he stopped you,” the soldier continued as they began their trek toward the house. “You might’ve gotten hurt.”

  “It was worth taking the chance.”

  “You never had a chance, ma’am,” the sergeant quipped. “He’s had you watched from the moment you overheard his conversation with the major this morning. He assigned details and posted guards right afterwards.”