Destiny's Temprtress

by Janelle Taylor

  Shannon scowled at him. “When are you going to realize I can take care of myself? Am I not sitting here safe and sound?” Ride with him! her mind screamed. Touching him? Should she?

  Now that they were alone, was she afraid of him? Blane wondered. Did she know who he was, to her brother, to the Union? Was she afraid of herself? “I’m the boss, remember?” he said aloud. “You agreed to follow orders. Come along, Flame,” he commanded sternly, pulling her to her feet.

  Blane mounted, then lifted Shannon and placed her sideways across his muscular thighs. Her left side nestled against his firm body. “Sleep, woman. We’ve got some hard riding to do.” He pressed her cheek to his shoulder, seized the reins of her horse, then kneed his mount into a steady pace. He was relieved when she didn’t argue or rebel.

  Shannon placed her left arm around his back and the right one over his waist, then locked her fingers at his left side. She closed her eyes. For now, she would play the vulnerable female and, in truth, she relished the feel of Blane’s arms and body. His manly scent teased her nose, and his strength and confidence gave her courage and comfort. She snuggled closer to him. When his embrace tightened, she smiled and went to sleep.

  Blane felt Shannon’s body slowly go limp. He decreased his pace to allow a smoother ride and was puzzled by his concern. He rationalized that as long as they were moving, they were putting miles between them and Washington. He didn’t want Travers to interfere with his schedule, or with his plans for Shannon. He cuddled her shapely figure snuggly to his body and, for a time, he rested his cheek atop her head.

  Shortly before dawn, Blane guided the horses into a tree-sheltered area that would conceal them from the eyes of anyone passing by. He dropped the reins to the ground and eased off his steed’s back without arousing Shannon. Catching a blanket between his fingers, he headed for a grassy spot. He balanced the sleeping girl on one leg while he spread the blanket with his free hand. Very gently and carefully, he placed Shannon on it.

  Blane watched her curl to her side, pleased that her slumber had been undisturbed by his fluid movements. He unsaddled the horses and allowed them to graze and water at a nearby creek. Then he flexed his tense muscles. Though he was accustomed to going without sleep when the situation demanded it, he could also sleep with one eye and ear open, which was his intention now as he stretched out beside Shannon. Almost immediately, she turned and snuggled against him, as if his warmth or scent had drawn her to his body.

  Blane smiled as his arms encircled her. Maybe Silas was right about one thing: she could be a big help to him. At least this trip wouldn’t be dull. No, dull wasn’t the right word. Distraction was what she could offer, and perhaps pleasure. If she was lying, then he owed her nothing and could freely take what he pleased. Maybe ruining a woman so special to Corbett Greenleaf would provide ample and perfect punishment for Corry’s crimes against Ellie…

  Blane was shocked by what he was thinking. Could he do such things? Lord, how he wished this war would end before he. lost all touch with morals and reality. In a couple of hours they would eat and head for Dixie. To face what? These were his last thoughts as he drifted into a light sleep.

  Shannon opened her eyes to find herself lying beside Blane. She didn’t want to disturb him, so she remained very still. This man was so contradictory. He could be so warm or so cold. He could be so gentle or so tough. He could be so enticing or so repelling. But what a man he was—virile, handsome, charming; so self-assured. How lucky she was to have him as her escort, her partner. Maybe…

  Blane’s hazel eyes opened and locked with Shannon’s, and she quickly averted her probing gaze. “When did we camp?” she asked uneasily.

  “Two hours ago,” he replied, then stood and stretched to loosen his stiff body. He glanced at Shannon and teased, “I wanted to sleep longer, but you have a potent stare, Blue Eyes.”

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked in confusion.

  “I’m a light sleeper, and I could feel you looking at me. Why?”

  Shannon’s cheeks filled with color. “I was trying not to awaken you. Did you get enough sleep?” she inquired, changing the subject.

  “When I’m on the move, I require little sleep. There’s a creek over there if you want to freshen up before we eat. We can’t risk a fire, so it’s cold biscuits and salt pork.”

  Shannon’s nose wrinkled, but she didn’t respond. Blane chuckled. “You’d best get used to trail food. I told you this trip wouldn’t be easy.”

  “I’ll be just fine, Major Stevens,” she retorted sassily.

  He instantly scolded, “Drop that name, Shannon. It’s dangerous where we’re heading. Until I tell you different, you’re Shannon James, wife of Steven James. Most of the Federal officers know me. But if anyone else asks questions, I’m a shipper from New Orleans who sided with the Union. When the fighting increased in that area, I brought you along for your safety. You’ll play the obedient wife who doesn’t defy her husband’s words or actions. Understand?”

  “Why wife? Why not sister?” she pressed nervously.

  He replied almost sullenly, “There might be times when we have to move out swiftly and secretly. A man doesn’t keep his sister at his side at all hours. And I won’t have to worry about lovestruck Rebs chasing an unattached sister. When we cross the Rebel lines, we’ll appear to be traveling around to obtain supplies and information for President Davis.”

  “I see,” she murmured, questioning this perilous arrangement. An arduous journey would be nothing compared to danger of spending so much time in the company of this fascinating man! “What about this naked finger?” she hinted, holding up her left hand and wiggling the digit in question.

  Blane didn’t want to tell her to claim she had donated it to the Confederacy to buy arms and supplies. He wanted his ownership to be vividly seen. He searched his pockets and finally withdrew a gold band. “Make sure you protect it and return it later. It was my mother’s,” he lied defensively. Then he reached for her hand and slipped the ring on her finger. “Any more questions?” he asked in a tender voice. For the time being, he knew gentleness would be more apt to ensure her cooperation.

  She lowered her head to shield her turbulent gaze and to conceal her revealing expression. She was vexed by his low opinion of her intelligence and perception. To pass off a new ring as his mother’s, he would have to think her brainless! Was he wed, or planning to marry? Her pride would not allow her to ask. “None. Blane—I mean Steven—when can we head for Danville to check on Corry?”

  “First comes Richmond. That’s where Tredegar Iron Works is located. The South is short on powder mills and iron works. Most of their big guns are made at Tredegar. I need to find out how many guns are being made, how quickly, and where they’re being sent. It’ll reveal their strength and area of attack. The South is outmanned and outarmed; she can’t stand much longer. Until she falls, those guns will claim more lives. You said you knew Johnston, so he’s our second target. If we can’t link up with him, we’ll track another one of your acquaintances.” He knew those plans would be the fastest ways to test her loyalty and worth. He refused to admit to himself that they would keep her around him longer as well.

  “But what about Corry?” she protested.

  “Johnston and Bragg should be operating in the general area of Danville. First the missions, Shannon; then we solve personal problems. How valuable would your services be once you attempted to free a Yankee soldier? I don’t mean to sound cold and heartless, but the war and the Union come first. The sooner it’s over, the sooner prisoners will be released. Corry’s freedom won’t inspire peace, and he’s only one fighting soldier. If you disagree, we part here. Well?”

  “We do it your way,” Shannon acquiesced after pensive thought.

  “Sometimes your intelligence and mettle surprise me,” he stated with a mischievous grin. He passed her a biscuit with salted pork. “Eat up, wife, and let’s get out of here.”

  Shannon rode beside Blane for hours. Her aching body
let her know it had been a long time since she had strained it this much. When they halted for a break, Shannon wondered if she could dismount, yet she was careful not to complain or show weakness. She walked around to relieve her stiffness and bent over as she flexed her back and shoulders. Suddenly Blane’s hands were massaging them. It felt too good to feign strength and stamina. What a mercurial man he was!

  “Been a while since you rode like this, if ever, right?”

  “If you think I’ll play the martyr or the fool, you’re wrong. That feels like sheer bliss. If memory serves me, this soreness will decrease each day. I won’t be a hindrance for long.”

  “Actually, you haven’t been one yet,” he commented, then tickled her playfully. “At least I have an honest woman on my hands.”

  Shannon peeked over her shoulder and grinned. “Thanks for the trust and special treatment. I have a feeling I’ll earn them.”

  “Most assuredly, Mrs. James. Ready?” He winked at her.

  “Ready.” Shannon stretched one last time and mounted.

  During the afternoon, they began to encounter signs of past battles and the other horrors of war. They passed burned homes and buildings, devastated landscapes, numerous graves, deserted huts, old campsites, dusty and shabby people, bone-tired, spirit-weary soldiers, all of which transmitted an aura of decay and misery. The people whom they encountered, civilian and military alike, wore looks of desolation. Clearly many were hungry; most were in rags. Children lacked smiles and healthy flesh. Elderly people could barely move along the dry roads beneath the stifling sun. The soldiers’ uniforms were tattered and soiled, and their rusty weapons were as scarred as their souls. Bandages tied around foreheads, arms, or legs were gray with filth. Most seemed to be traveling without purpose or direction, as if movement represented a continuation of life or a promise of hope.

  Shannon read varying degrees of suffering in those faces and she yearned to help. Blane guided his horse beside hers when a few of the wanderers crowded around her and begged for food or money. She was baffled by the hatred in the eyes of those who scanned her healthy mount and body and she was about to ask Blane to share their food when he seized her bridle and raced away.

  After he reined in miles down the road, she demanded, “Why did you do that? They were starving. Many were wounded. Women, children, old folks. You are cold and heartless, Blane Stevens!”

  Blane grabbed her collar and yanked her face close to his, nearly ripping her from her saddle. “I told you, there’s a war going on—a bloody, cruel war. We’ll be confronting people like that nearly every day. How can we survive to carry out our missions if we give away our food and money and horses? Then we would have to steal or beg. Sharing isn’t the best thing you can do for them; helping me and the Union end this nightmare is! Listen to me, Shannon,” he urged, softening his tone. “You’ve got to close your eyes and heart to such sights. I know how hard that is, but you must. If you don’t, you’ll be so confused you won’t know which side to take. Starving people can be dangrous. They’ll steal all you have or they’ll betray you for food. Look what you’re willing to endure to help your brother. Just imagine what mothers or fathers would do to save their children and homes. If you can’t handle or stomach those sights, what about crossing a battlefield strewn with mutilated bodies?”

  Blane released his grip on Shannon, but she remained near him. Her eyes were wide and lucid, and they drew him without mercy. “Shannon, Shannon,” he mumbled wearily. “Do you realize what you’ll confront in camp hospitals if you play nurse? Do you realize what you’ll witness in enemy prison camps? You’ll break or flee, woman.”

  Shannon sensed how upset Blane was about her conduct. He liked appearing tough and cool, yet he could be so gentle and sensitive. “I’m sorry. It’s just that it was such a shock. You’re right; war was only a word to me until today. I won’t go soft on you again.”

  “You sure you want to continue? It’ll get worse. We’ll be in Alexandria soon. You can get back to Washington from there.”

  To lighten their moods, she speculated blithely, “Would you desert your wife in the midst of enemy territory, Mister James? Why, I haven’t even gotten adjusted to wearing this ring yet.” Shannon boldly caressed his cheek, running her finger over the knife scar. “How did you get this?” she asked in curiosity.

  “Some dreary night, I might tell you how you almost lost me to Comanches before we had a chance to meet. I want to make town before dark. Do hot food and a soft bed sound tempting?” Maybe they would be enough to convince her to stay in town, after the sights she had seen today.

  Shannon beamed with pleasure. “What are we waiting for, sir?”

  There was a Union encampment near Alexandria, where soldiers were awaiting orders from General Grant. Shannon remained with the horses while Blane reported to the officer on duty, using the password to guard their safety. He was smiling when he joined her. Shannon wisely refrained from asking any questions until they were inside their room.

  Dropping their belongings on the floor, he told her, “You can relax now. This is a safe house for guests. Things sound pretty bad south of here. We’ll have to cross Union and Rebel lines to reach Richmond.” Blane removed his shirt and tossed it on the bed. He poured water into a basin and splashed his face. “I told them you were tired, so you wouldn’t be joining us for dinner. That accent of yours might make them a bit nervous. You can eat and rest here.”

  Shannon was relieved that she wouldn’t have to share dinner or small talk with rough soldiers in a tent. She was smiling faintly when Blane turned to study her reaction to his words. “I’m an obedient wife and partner who follows orders, sir. Besides, I’m too tired and hungry to argue. You’ll probably learn more over a few sips of whiskey without my distracting presence.”

  As he was drying his face, Blane eyed her over the cloth. His softened eyes reminded her of warmed brandy. “You’re learning fast, Mrs. James. While I’m gone, keep this door locked. Hopefully I won’t be kept out too late. We’ll have a long ride tomorrow.”

  “Any chance of a bath? No telling when my next one will come.”

  “Nope. We’ve gotta keep attention to us at a minimum. It’s an inconvenience of trail life, unless you’re brave enough to bathe in rivers and streams.” Blane wondered how long it would take her to show her colors.

  Shannon tried to pull her gaze from his bronzed torso with its rippling muscles. Blane aided her by pulling on a fresh shirt. As he was combing his sun-kissed hair, he hesitated for a moment to observe her in the mirror. Shannon looked away, feeling strangely warm and edgy and heard him slipping out the door.

  She paced the large room until Blane returned with a hot meal and placed it on the table. “You’re going to spoil me,” she teased.

  “How so? You’re already spoiled. See you later, Shannon.”

  She closed the door and locked it. Seating herself at the small table, she savored the vegetables and cured ham, letting each bite linger on her tongue. She inhaled the aroma of the freshly baked bread before each bite. The coffee tasted bitter to her without sugar, and she pushed it aside, though not without thinking of the starving people she had seen today and feeling guilty over this feast she was enjoying. Blane was right; they needed their strength and health to play their parts in ending this horrible war. She was surprised to find that Blane had included a glass of red wine, and she sipped it slowly. Realizing this might be her last good meal for a long time, Shannon consumed the remainder snailishly.

  Later, she used the basin and tepid water to bathe as best she could. Then, assuming Blane wouldn’t return tonight, she donned a summer nightgown taken from her carpet bag, brushed her hair, and lowered the lamp flame. After checking the window to make sure it was inaccessible to intruders, she climbed into bed. As she wiggled into the softness, she sighed in pleasure and, within moments, she was fast asleep.

  Blane’s dinner and the conversation that followed had taken longer than he had imagined or intended. He knew the fla
ming haired beauty would probably be asleep by now. Perhaps the trusting, inexperienced woman had left the key in the lock. If so, it would be a simple task to slide a paper beneath the door and dislodge the key with his small knife, allowing it to fall to the paper. He could then carefully pull the paper under the door, retrieve the key, unlock the door, and slip inside to join her. Shannon had indeed overlooked the key, and Blane discovered her error with mixed emotions: relief and annoyance. He would warn her about removing the key from the lock.

  Once Blane was inside the room, he moved silently to the bed. She was sleeping peacefully and deeply. He noticed her empty food tray and grinned. Then Blane stripped off his shirt, boots, and pants, and was about to join her in the bed. Looking down at Shannon’s slumbering figure, he felt his loins stir to life, and he realized the dangers such a move would pose.

  This wasn’t the time or place to test his self-control. If Shannon snuggled up with him again, he would be lost, and so would her purity—if a creature so ravishing and impulsive could still be in possession of her innocence. He was willing to bet all he owned that Shannon was up to something, that she was withholding facts about herself and her intentions.

  Blane sighed irritably. Then he unrolled his sleeping bag and doused the lamp before stripping naked to combat the August heat. He reclined on the thin bedroll, aware of the hard floor beneath him. This mission was going to test more than his wits and courage, even more than his patience! Shannon Greenleaf was a mystery, and a smart man didn’t unravel an enigma like her without caution and time. He remembered the way she had nestled against him and the way she had responded to his kisses. Perhaps this mission wouldn’t be all work…

  Chapter Three

  September 1, 1864