Angry lights flickered in Shannon’s deep sapphire eyes. All she wanted was to get out of this room and this uncomfortable situation. “Why don’t you let the President decide if I can defend myself and be of assistance to him?”
“How could you defend yourself against numerous men when you couldn’t even fight off one?” he challenged to awaken her dreamy mind.
“Not all men are as strong or as mean as you—especially not Southerners! Gentlemen help ladies, not assail them! No Rebel officer would shoot me or attack me!” she fiercely declared.
“Would you like me to prove you wrong?” he speculated as he unbound her hands and jerked her against his chest.
Blane didn’t stop Shannon when she tore off his mask and threw it to the floor. She immediately wished she hadn’t. Despite the sooty smudges, his good looks stormed her troubled senses instantly. His full lips formed a devilish half-grin, as if he recognized his effect on her. She noted that his flesh had been bronzed by the sun and wisps of his thick hair lightened by it. Physical and mental superiority radiated from his strong, angular features. He was freshly shaven, even to the deep cleft in his squared chin, and Shannon saw that a thin, white scar snaked along his left jawline for two inches. His eyes were sparkling with mischief. For a while, Shannon felt breathless and weak.
Blane’s eyes fused with Shannon’s, and neither spoke or moved for a time. It seemed that each was assessing the other, in looks and emotions. Finally, Shannon broke the potent spell when she defensively asked, “Are you saying that you’re a Rebel?” Was he trying to entrap her? she wondered. Did that explain the black mask he had donned? Had he also sneaked inside for some reason, perhaps a criminal one? “What are you doing here? If you’ve come to harm the President, I’ll try to stop you,” she vowed.
He replied mirthfully, “This is my bedroom while I’m here on business. You can’t disturb the President in the middle of the night, and I might not allow you to see him at all.” Blane was confused by her earlier behavior when he was kissing her. Just how desperate or foolish was she? he asked himself. After hearing her sad story, he had decided he wouldn’t take advantage of her, but he did want to understand her. If she truly had been frightened, then why hadn’t she screamed? She wasn’t acting like a normal female at all. Lord, she had guts and a desirability he yearned to explore. His gaze engulfed her with longing. “Since you’re running out of money, I might be persuaded to let you share my room while I decide if your problem is real and worth his time.”
Shannon bristled at his intimate suggestion and highhanded manner. “Don’t be absurd, you vulgar rake! I have a hotel room, and I can work to support myself if necessary. After all I’ve been through, I’ve earned the right to see him! Besides, who are you to prevent me from speaking with President Lincoln?”
“I’m the man who can send you over to Old Capitol Prison if you rile me. Either you can stay here until morning or you can return to your hotel and wait to hear from me. Whatever you decide, you aren’t seeing him tonight. After I check around about you, I’ll be in touch with my answer. Be honest, or be gone before tomorrow afternoon. If you’re lying, I’ll treat you like a blood-thirsty Comanche.”
His last two statements baffled Shannon. “Who are you? What are you?” she questioned. He certainly had a fierce hatred and contempt for Comanches! She wondered why. Without a doubt, she knew that he and Hawke wouldn’t get along. “How can I trust a wicked stranger? Just give me five minutes with Lincoln. Just five minutes,” she stressed.
“I’m a good friend of Lincoln’s. You have no idea what war is like, or you wouldn’t be here. The Old South has vanished forever, Shannon. Lands have been neglected. Towns and plantations have been looted or burned or abandoned. Bridges are down and rail lines have been severed. Rebs who thought this war would be fast and fun are functioning on sheer ego and obstinacy, existing on blind pride. That whole area reeks of disillusionment and bitterness and dissension. A lack of supplies and heavy casualties have inspired staggering numbers of deserters, and they make dangerous men. You don’t want to witness such tragedy. It’s grim and depressing.” He paused for effect. “Still want to play heroine?”
“I have no choice,” she replied sadly, realizing that if it was that bad in the South, Corry and Greenleaf needed her more than she imagined.
He recalled a point of hers. “You said you couldn’t return to Boston. Why? I want some answers, woman, or I call the guards.”
Shannon inhaled and exhaled deeply. The closer she stayed to honesty, the better her chances were of winning over this nettling creature who was too wary and enticing. She was vexed by the fact that her words, looks, and charms were being ignored. How dare he question her word and breeding! How dare he treat her with such disrespect and indifference! “I was…having problems with the man my father left me with there. Since he knew that none of my family might survive, he began pressing me to marry him. It seems father signed some paper that gave Mister Simon Travers control over Papa’s business until either he or one of my brothers returned. I should have been left in charge, not that vile beast. Travers refused to give me money or help me locate my brother. I took cash from my father’s office and left Boston. I’m positive he’s chasing me. If I don’t hurry, he’ll find me and stop me. I wouldn’t marry him if I were destitute and alone.”
“He can’t force you to return to Boston, or to marry him.”
Shannon frowned in dismay. “He said he could prove my family was a nest of Southern spies. He threatened to get me into trouble if I continued to refuse him. I told you, he has control of my finances.”
“Tell me, are you really trying to get to your brother, or just fleeing this man? I want to know more about this Travers,” he demanded.
“Simon Travers. He’s a cotton factor. He and my father were partners. He’s thirty-eight and a mean and ugly scoundrel. He’s detemined to get me and all of my family’s holdings. Please help me,” she urged.
Blane sighed heavily and stroked his smooth jawline. “Somehow you don’t seem as helpless as you try to sound. Why is that, Shannon?”
Shannon blushed at his barely veiled insult. “You’ve never met Simon Travers! He’s despicable. I wouldn’t marry him if he were the only survivor of this ridiculous, bloody war. I can’t help it if my father reared a spirited filly. But I know my limitations.” Shannon tried to avoid Blane’s probing gaze. “Darn you!” she exploded. “Travers has a paper that declares him my guardian. I know it’s a fraud. Papa wouldn’t have dared sign me over to any man. In fact, I suspect those business papers are forgeries as well. I won’t allow him to get away with these deeds. I have to get to Danville. And even if Travers manages to steal all we own, I must help my brother.”
“I see,” Blane murmured, knowing what that particular driving force was like and feeling a curious empathy with her. “Now you’re making sense. Still, you are a purebred Southerner, and I’m not convinced that you’re an honest one. You’d never turn over crucial information about the Rebs. So what would I get for all my time and trouble?” he asked, thinking that if she remained in Washington, she would be available during his visits. He found her to be a fascinating creature, one whose unusual traits and wild spirit appealed to the part of him that thrived on adventure and challenge.
“I have no money or jewels to offer you for your services,” she answered, waiting to see if he would name another source of payment. She was relieved when he did not make the kind of wanton suggestion that would have forced her to terminate their relationship instantly. To save Corry’s life, she would close her eyes and surrender to the repulsive Travers before yielding for the same reason to this man who seemed to inflame her very soul.
“I can’t permit you to enter enemy territory, Shannon, for any reason,” he informed her. “You could get plenty of good men killed trying to assist you or protect you. Death and pillage roam the South like greedy scavengers ravaging a decaying corpse. The best thing you can do is to find a job here until this conf
lict is over. If your brother is anything like you, he’ll survive. I’m certain President Lincoln will offer you his protection from this Travers. And if you’ll give me some facts, the next time I head south I’ll see what I can learn about your brother and your home. Now let’s get you back to your hotel. I’ll speak with you later.” She was too bewitching, he thought uncomfortably. He would have to get her out of his room.
Shannon stared at the handsome man before her as she speculated about his words. Then she told him, “You have no right to stop me from going home to Georgia, nor from trying to help my brother. If Lincoln and the Union won’t help me, I’ll do it alone. Good night, sir.”
When Blane didn’t release her, she glowered at him as she ordered her brain to think fast. “You said I couldn’t see him, so I’m leaving. Unhand me, or I’ll wake the entire house,” she threatened cleverly.
“I’ll see you back to your room. It’s late and dangerous outside.” Blane grasped her arm and began pulling her toward the hall door.
“No,” she protested. Shannon’s keen mind had conceived a daring plan that would defeat her smug captor and enable her to see Lincoln, She put her ploy in motion. “If those guards see us leaving together this time of night, you know what they’ll think. My reputation would be tarnished. I’ll go down the tree and sneak back to the hotel. My shoes are behind the bushes. Where’s my hat?”
“It’s a long walk, Shannon. You aren’t going alone,” he insisted.
“All right,” she deceptively conceded when his chin and gaze revealed his obstinacy. She would teach him a lesson or two! “Let me climb down the tree and you can join me outside. But if you don’t contact me tomorrow, I’ll be back. I’m not a quitter or a coward.”
Blane knew that he could lock the window after her exit and that she would never reach the ground before he was beneath the tree. He grinned, assuming that if he let her have her way, she might mellow a little, or a lot. “Fine. Just be careful. Oh yes, I’m Blane Stevens.” He released her, scooped up her hat and handed it to her, then approached the window.
Shannon twisted her long hair and stuffed it under the hat. Joining him at the window, she declared, “I’m not being cocky or rash. Will you at least think about what I said?” she inquired, tugging at his arm. “Please, Blane.” She would show him who was smarter and quicker!
Blane glanced down at her upturned face. Moonlight gleamed in her blue eyes and illuminated her ivory complexion, which still bore streaks of soot. Her features had been artfully sculptured. He felt his body warm and his respiration quicken. His hand reached out to caress her cheek and to capture the single tear rolling down its smooth surface. She certainly had a way of appealing to a man, emotionally and physically. Before Blane gave it another thought, he pulled Shannon into his comforting arms and his lips seared hers in an exceptionally tender kiss.
Shannon dismissed any guilt over her actions as she swayed against him and returned the pervasive kiss. He had mentioned going south…She would use every feminine skill she possessed to entice Blane to take her with him. Were conditions as bad as he had described? she wondered. Until she learned what she was facing, she could use Blane Stevens and his expertise.
The contact between them held a surprise for her. Shannon’s head began to spin and her body flamed at his touch. Yes, she decided, this masterful rogue could defend her against any peril. There was something so intriguing and enchanting about him. He was a man, a real man, just like her brothers and Hawke.
Blane’s embrace tightened. His mouth fused to hers and his tongue slipped between her parted lips. He felt Shannon tremble and press closer to him. He comprehended her warring emotions—the awakening of passion—and for a moment, he didn’t want to end this madness. He knew Shannon had lost sight of her mission to ensnare him with innocent flirtation. Regretfully, he pushed her away and remarked hoarsely, “Let’s get you out of here before I test the height of your desperation and the depth of my control. You are a very tempting witch, Blue Eyes.” Blane wondered briefly if the attraction between them might become so overwhelming that he could mindlessly seduce her. But he instinctively knew it would be a mistake this soon. Despite her audacity, she was a well-bred lady.
Shannon was bewildered by his effect on her. She lowered her face as its heat warned of an annoying blush. Damn him! she cursed inwardly. He couldn’t be persuaded to take her south. He was a man accustomed to controlling himself in any situation and was probably one of those domineering males who believed a woman’s place was under her father’s or husband’s thumb. When Blane lifted her chin, she quickly lowered her lashes to hide her accusatory glare. “If you grab the limb and hold it steady, I’ll meet you below,” she stated raggedly.
“Make sure you stay put at the hotel until I contact you. The next man you beg for help might demand a high price for it. I think I’ll give you a tour of Capitol Prison tomorrow to show you why you don’t want to become a spy. Get those naïve ideas about gallantry toward female spies out of your head, Shannon. A spy is a spy. If you attempt to charm information or assistance from the wrong man, you could find yourself in deep trouble. Men who are about to face death get crazy feelings and ideas. Soldiers away from home and family forget manners and conscience. Men without women can be blinded by someone who looks like you. Don’t try to cross enemy lines alone or you might find yourself confronting one of those ruffians who doesn’t recall he’s a Southern gentleman,” he stressed to scare her.
Shannon decided to test her assumptions about him. She entreated, “Can’t you help me, Blane? I’ll find some way to repay you. I can’t remain here, and I have no money to go elsewhere. Travers will use anything to get at me. What if I were your mother or sister or wife? Wouldn’t you want someone to help her locate and rescue you? I could pretend to be a nurse or a singer. All I need is a little kindness.”
Blane knew his answer must be no, but decided it was too late at night to argue. This woman was intoxicating and he wanted to know more about her. He would be in Washington for a few days longer. In that time, Shannon could offer him delightful company. He needed a diversion from this war, which couldn’t last much longer. He needed to feel alive and fresh. This malicious conflict was as bad as—if not worse than—the Indian slaughter he had left behind. If not for a matter of honor and revenge, he wouldn’t be here now. And so far, he hadn’t tasted either. “How about we discuss your troubles over dinner tomorrow? By then, I’ll have had time to give them study. I’ll figure out something for Travers.” He didn’t like men who ravished or beguiled naïve girls.
Shannon noticed a tinge of rage in Blane’s voice when he mentioned Simon’s name—or had it been bitterness? Though she might be innocent in some ways, she knew she had captured Blane’s eye and attention. Still, he wasn’t taking her seriously. He didn’t want to help her rescue Corry; he wanted to bed her! She doubted he would discuss her troubles with the President, and he definitely wouldn’t take her along on his next journey. Again she wondered how she could disarm Blane and get to Lincoln for five minutes…
Shannon exhaled loudly. Then she looked at Blane and smiled. “I guess we have to do things your way—for now,” she specified, taking another tack. “Dinner sounds marvelous. You wait and see, Blane; I’ll convince you to help me,” she hinted coquettishly.
Deceived, Blane grinned roguishly and nodded. He leaned out the window, grasped the limb securely, and pulled it toward him. Before he could tell Shannon he was ready, she seized his ankles and flipped him over the sill. His grip held around the limb, although it swayed and groaned ominously. Fury surged through him as Shannon closed the window and locked it. Blane lifted his legs and wrapped them around the limb. Slowly and cautiously, he edged toward the trunk, vowing that the deceitful little creature would regret her actions. She was a clever and daring vixen, a superb actress, and Blane realized he might have been tricked in more than one way. What if she were an assassin? he wondered disconcertedly. Berating himself, he hurried to prevent her from ma
king a lethal error.
Shannon raced down the stairs and began to check each room for the President. When she decided she had located it, she boldly entered and hesitated inside the doorway. She called his name twice. When a deep voice asked who was there, Shannon replied, “Sir, it’s Shannon Greenleaf of Savannah. I must see you on an urgent matter. It can’t wait. I’m unarmed, Mister President; you can search me.”
“Give me a moment, Miss Greenleaf, and I’ll join you.” The sleepy man knew she could have slain him in his sleep if she had been an enemy. He believed that since this woman had had the courage and wits to get inside the White House and into his bedroom, she should be heard. He tossed aside the covers, stood, and slipped into his robe. Without lighting a lamp, he moved to join Shannon at the shadowy doorway.
“Sir, I locked out a Mister Blane Stevens when he tried to stop me from seeing you. I expect that he will rush up here and arrest me at any moment. Please, if I could have only five minutes of your time and attention, I’m sure you’ll help me,” she hurriedly informed him.
The sound of chuckling drifted to her ears from the dark room. He queried in amazement, “You took Blane off guard? That’s a first. Come along, Miss Greenleaf; I most assuredly must hear both intriguing tales.”
Blane covered the steps two or three at a time and seized a startled Shannon. Yanking her toward him and confining her within his unbreakable hold, Blane said antagonistically, “You tricky vixen, I’m placing you ander arrest. I can’t wait to see how you try to worm your way out of prison. I don’t fool easily, my little chameleon.”
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