Destiny's Temprtress

by Janelle Taylor

  Shannon hiked her knees, then ineffectually attempted to cover her breasts. “Don’t tell me you’re speaking to me again. Am I still alive? What are you doing in here? Where’s your…friend?”

  A playful smile relaxed his features. “Gone to hide our horses and tend them. Don’t take Cathy so seriously. She’s selfish and a bit outspoken, but she can be trusted. I owe you an apology for being so distant and harsh these last few days. I had some unpleasant matters to sort out and discard. I’m sorry I wasn’t around when you needed me, Shannon. I’m responsible for you, and I failed you back there. As you’ve seen, I don’t take kindly to defeats, even little ones.”

  He hadn’t replaced his shirt, and Shannon’s eyes drifted over his golden torso. Her gaze lifted to his tousled hair, then lowered to his face. His brows were not heavy or bushy like many men; they barely arched, seeming to curve very gently past his eyes. Those hazel eyes were small, but expressive. The ends dipped downward without appearing to droop. When he was intensely alert, they seemed more brown, but when he was calm and playful, as he was now, they appeared a rich, tawny green. A bump on his nose told her it had been broken in the past. As her gaze roamed, she saw that his face and frame exuded strength of mind and body. Again, she wondered about the scar on his jawline.

  Shannon wanted to stroke his amber hair with its sunny streaks, to caress his tawny body of satiny hardness, to snuggle into his protective arms. She wanted to reach out and pull those full lips to hers and kiss him thoroughly. She wanted to discover him fully. But he had spoiled things with his mercurial personality and contradictory treatment. He had made her wary of him and her feelings. When the emotion-heavy silence interrupted her reverie, she tried to clear her wits. “Forget it, Blane. I’m not your responsibility, or your problem, or your failure. If you had been around, both of us would have been in deeper trouble. As for your friend, the way she was pressing me for information makes me wonder if she is trustworthy. She certainly has a vulgar mouth. You should have prepared me for meeting this woman to avoid my making any mistakes. Is there something between you two?” Shannon asked boldly.

  “You are,” he murmured, hunkering down to stop towering over her. “Just to be safe, keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. I wouldn’t want trouble because you two think you’re rivals.”

  Rivals, she mentally echoed. Was he telling her something about him and Cathy? Was he enticing or discouraging her? “Papa used to tell me one couldn’t see a smile in the dark, so an enemy didn’t know it existed. Tell Cathy it doesn’t. That should prevent any feline attacks on me. I’m tired. Would you mind giving me a little privacy, Major Stevens?”

  “You sure I can’t help with your bath?” he offered, moving the back of his fingers up and down her arm. He remembered what it was like to kiss her and hold her. He wanted to enjoy those experiences again. With her hair soaked, it had become an even darker red. Her ivory face was flushed from the heat of the day and from his nearness. But it was her mesmeric blue eyes that held his attention. As if magnetized, they drew him deeper and deeper under their spell. He wanted to hold her and caress every inch of her body. He yearned to steal her breath with kisses, to make love to her. His smoldering, provocative gaze exposed his passionate thoughts and feelings.

  Shannon was astonished by the heat in his eyes. If Catherine had not been nearby, she might have been tempted to warm herself with it. “Not this time,” she murmured coyly to tease him, as his mood and look seemed to tease her. “We’ll have to wait for the right place and moment.” She was echoing the words he had spoken on that bewitching night in Farmville, before he had left only to return to shun her. “This isn’t it,” she informed him.

  Blane’s hazel gaze locked on her blue one. When they were alone and close at times like this, it seemed as if nothing and no one existed or mattered to either of them. If only he could keep all past and current realities from assailing them until—

  A noise captured his ear and his attention. He turned his head sideways and listened. His eyes narrowed; his jawline tensed. “See you later,” he stated, then left.

  Taking a hint from his actions, Shannon hurriedly completed her bath. Before she could dry and dress, Blane rushed into the room. He grabbed a coverlet from the bed, yanked Shannon to her feet, then wrapped the cover around her wet body. He scooped her into his arms. When she struggled, he muttered anxiously, “Rebels coming. We’ve got to hide. Clifford’s probably got an alert out on us by now. No one could mistake your description, my flaming-haired witch. Besides, they know our names and ranks. That means your letter from Davis isn’t worth a single bean.”

  Shannon let him take command. He carried her to the hearth where Catherine was removing the decorative fire board, then he let her down. “Sorry, Flame, but get inside,” he commanded.

  Shannon looked at the sooty, oversized hole and balked. She had just taken her first bath in days! Maybe he was overreacting.

  “Get inside, woman! There’s no time to argue! They could draft me or arrest us! Damnit, that could be Clifford or Travers!” With those words, he practically crammed her into the large area and told her to stand up and make room for him.

  Shannon pressed into one corner of the chimney as Blane worked his way in beside her. “Keep still and quiet, Shannon,” he warned.

  Catherine tossed Shannon’s carpet bag and dirty clothes at their feet. Next came Blane’s shirt and weapons. She put the fire board into place and twisted the catches. A spinning wheel and other objects were placed on the raised hearth before the hand-painted summer closure. Catherine quickly checked for revealing soot. Then she hurried around the house, removing all signs of their presence. She dipped her head into Shannon’s tub, then dampened her skin. With a cloth wrapped around her wet hair, she answered the knock on her door.

  “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but we need to use your well and yard for the night. Do you mind?” the lieutenant inquired.

  “Certainly not,” Catherine told him with a bright smile.

  “We also need to search your house and grounds,” he added, removing his hat and watching her closely.

  “Why?” Catherine asked, focusing sky blue eyes on him.

  “Deserters, runaway slaves, Union spies,” he answered calmly.

  Catherine half turned and informed him, “As you can see, sir, I’m quite alone.” Her eyes lingered on the dusty gray uniform, which didn’t always reveal the truth about its wearer’s loyalties.

  “Then you won’t mind if I make sure?” he persisted.

  “If you must.” She opened the door and moved aside. “You will be careful with my things. My husband was slain at Shiloh, and I have little of value left. If you promise to be careful with my belongings during your search, I’ll share my evening meal with you, sir.”

  “It smells mighty good in here,” he stated, sniffing the air.

  “Venison. I shot the deer myself. Perhaps I should serve you outside. It might not look proper for you to join me alone. We wouldn’t want your troops repeating such gossip to your wife.”

  The unwed Lieutenant Paul Barclay introduced himself to Catherine, then told his men he would conduct the search of her home. He ordered them to look around outside and to set up camp for the night. Afterward, he followed Catherine around the house, searching here and there in the obvious hiding places as the coy woman distracted him.

  Shannon was frightened. She leaned toward Blane and whispered, “What about the horses? What if they find us?”

  Blane held her head between his hands and whispered in her ear, “If you stay still and quiet, they won’t. Relax, Flame. I don’t bite.”

  Shannon glanced upward at the light above them. She could see Blane’s laughing features. She stuck her tongue out at him. How could he be so calm and playful at a time like this? She wished she weren’t facing frontward with him facing backward. Their right sides touched with an unsettling intimacy, for his shirt was missing and she was too aware of her nudity beneath the coverlet. As she clutched the
quilt with both hands, she eyed the soot on her freshly scrubbed body and hair and frowned in dismay. It was hot and cramped inside the dirty chimney, despite its larger-than-normal size. Trapped with him, she was glad she had bathed and now smelled of wildflowers. It would serve him right to be driven wild with temptation!

  She almost held her breath as the search went on and on. She kept her gaze lowered, wondering if this ploy would work. Every so often, she would hear laughter between Catherine and the Rebel officer. She prayed those were the only sounds she would be forced to overhear tonight! When she finally looked up at Blane, he was leaning against the front corner, watching her and grinning. Shannon averted her gaze.

  After two hours, Shannon was leaning against her corner. She was tiring and her hands were cramping. She dared not shift her weight for fear of striking the items at her feet or the fire board. She prayed no crawly creature would touch her, especially a spider, for she knew she might scream. She hated those multilegged things, almost as much as she hated the thought of being discovered and captured like this.

  The heat increased inside the blackened confines of the chimney. If Catherine invited the Rebel officer into her bed, Shannon realized, she and Blane would be stuck here until morning, or whenever. How could her stiff and weary body remain thus all night or longer? She wondered if her partner considered her responsible for their precarious situation.

  She looked at Blane once more. He didn’t appear the slightest bit uncomfortable or upset. She wondered how he felt about Catherine, about her current actions? She leaned her head against the stone wall and looked at the darkening sky. Perspiration trickled down her temples and between her breasts; it beaded on her nose and upper lip, and made her arms and body clammy. When she wiped at her face, she smeared black streaks over it. As Blane struggled to contain his mirth, Shannon looked at her hand and guessed what had happened. She scowled at him.

  As delicious aromas teased at her nose, she was glad they had eaten an afternoon meal. She was so thirsty, and her fatigue was increasing. Her eyelids were becoming very heavy. Even her shoulders wanted to droop and her knees wanted to buckle. With her head against the stones, she feared to close her eyes and lose her scant control.

  By midnight, the moon was in view above them. Shannon felt it was safe to assume the search had been completed unsuccessfully. She also felt it was safe to assume that Catherine was not sleeping alone, for surely she would have released them otherwise for a breather and water. The overpowering odor and snugness of her surroundings worked unmercifully on Shannon’s nerves. She would have liked nothing more than to have kicked down the fire board and screamed for ten minutes.

  Perceiving her tension and exhaustion, Blane shifted slightly, drawing her attention. He whispered into her ear, “Lay your head on my chest and get some sleep, love. I won’t let you fall or move. Don’t be pigheaded; you’re about to faint and that would be noisy.”

  Shannon’s gaze tried to pierce the shadows to see his expression. The angle of his head and the meager light did not allow it. He placed his hands beneath her arms and lifted her cautiously, settling her snuggly between his body and the back wall. His legs imprisoned hers to prevent any movement, and his left arm rested around her shoulders. His right hand pressed her damp face to his moist chest, then held her head in place. Finally, he laid his cheek atop her fragrant head.

  After a few minutes, he whispered, “Could you move your fists out of my chest? That cover isn’t going anywhere, love.”

  Shannon realized her balled hands were hurting her chest as well as his. She relaxed them, flattening her palms on his body. She was nestled tightly and securely against him and, suppressing a peaceful sigh, she closed her eyes. This time, only his manly scent filled her nostrils.

  Blane felt her body go limp. Knowing Shannon felt safe and calm enough to go to sleep in his embrace made him smile. Time passed. He commanded his fingers not to caress her silky flesh and awaken her. His control was sorely strained when her head rolled to his arm, causing the moonlight to expose her face. Her lips were parted. He wanted to close his mouth over them. In slumber, she looked so fragile, so innocent. He grinned at the smears of soot on her face that gave her a mischievous-child image. She was so mysterious, so appealing.

  Overcome with desire for Shannon, he shifted just enough to allow the quilt to slide to their feet. As she snuggled against him, his bare chest met her exposed breasts. A tingle of excitement surged through him. His loins flamed. He realized that his impulsive action had been a mistake. His hands itched to caress her. He was tempted to arouse her and make love to her right there in Catherine’s chimney but decided it wasn’t the time or place for their first union. Besides, it was possible she would reject him, considering his recent treatment and Clifford’s attempted rape.

  Blane knew that Shannon found him attractive, but he wasn’t certain she would want him to make love to her. In Farmville that night, she had confessed desire and willingness. Who was this Hawke? Why was she keeping quiet about him? Where had he gone, and why? Was she really seeking Corry, or Hawke? That spurned Rebel suitor of hers had made it sound as if she and Hawke had been lovers—mismatched lovers. At least she hadn’t been willing to bed Clifford for information or freedom. If he ever saw that bastard, he would kill him! The same was true for Simon Travers. In fact, he should have slit Thornton’s throat for betraying her. If Shannon hadn’t been standing there watching, he would have!

  Blane realized his teeth were clenched and his body was taut. He forcibly relaxed both. At least his rage had cooled his passion. He leaned his head against the stone wall, afraid to look at her again. He tried to forget that night in the house when she had said, “I want you too, Blane.” But did she want Blane, or the Blade and his help? Did she want Blane, or someone to replace Hawke? The sooner he discovered those answers, the better for both of them, though he needed to obtain them on his own. To press or probe her might be a mistake.

  Blane dozed off and on during the night. Never once did he release his hold on Shannon. He was glad she was so exhausted that she could sleep in this uncomfortable position. Eventually, he noticed the gradual brightening of the sky overhead. Soon, with luck, the Rebels would leave.

  Blane heard the door close behind the Confederate officer, then he heard him call out to his men to prepare to leave. At first, Blane decided to let Shannon sleep until the soldiers were gone. Grinning devilishly, he changed his mind. After a difficult night like this one, he could use a little amusement and comfort this morning.

  Leisurely and sensuously, Blane pressed kisses over Shannon’s face. When she began to shift and sigh dreamily, his mouth closed over hers. Shannon tried to pull away, then recognized the dank setting and the man who was pinning her to his body. He whispered in her ear, “You were making noises. I had to quiet you down. They’re getting ready to move out. Won’t be much longer now.”

  Shannon whispered, “You make a marvelous bed, partner.”

  With his head bent, he turned his head and smiled. His movement brought their faces close and his lips moved over hers once again.

  Shannon lifted her arms and put her hands behind his head, wiggling her fingers into his damp hair. She returned his kiss and his embrace, savoring this wild moment confined with him.

  Blane’s hands cupped her head as his mouth urgently meshed against hers. They moved to her back and pressed her intimately to his fiery body. His lips moved down her throat and nibbled at her shoulders. How he wished he could bend lower. His right hand drifted down her side and gently grasped her buttock to press her to him.

  Shannon inhaled and stiffened as she realized the quilt was missing. Glancing downward, she found that her breasts were practically glued to his torso. With her palm on his forehead, she shoved his head upward and sent him an admonishing glare. There was no way she could retrieve the coverlet. Her face, neck, and chest went red.

  Blane whispered, “When you wiggled, it slipped, love. I can’t reach it. You want me to close my ey
es?” he jested.

  “You did that on purpose. Get away from me, you lecherous snake,” she mouthed angrily. Immediately she held tightly to him, knowing his view would be better if they separated. “Don’t you dare. Stay still,” she commanded. What was she going to do?

  Blane passed his hand over the stone wall, then wiped soot over her chest and shoulders. “That should hide your naked beauty from me. Want me to cover all of you with a black coat?”

  Shannon repeated his action on his chest, then rubbed soot over his grinning face. She fought to control her giggles, for all she could see were white teeth and eyeballs. She didn’t know—as Blane did—that the Rebels had ridden off during her mischief. When he seized her wrists and pinned them high above her head to assail her lips with his, she dared not resist him or verbally berate him.

  Catherine knocked on the fire board. “You two still alive in there? I’ll free you in a minute or two,” she called to them.

  “A timely rescue, Miss Greenleaf,” he remarked huskily.

  “You are a deceitful devil, Blane Stevens,” she accused.

  When the fire board was moved aside, Catherine saw the dirty quilt tangled around their legs. The woman removed their belongings, then said, “You can come out now.” She didn’t try to conceal her laughter at Shannon’s predicament.

  “I’m first, Blane Stevens, and you shut your eyes!” Shannon warned him. “And stop laughing! It isn’t funny.” The last two remarks were for Catherine, for the woman’s laughter grated on her nerves.

  Blane wickedly put his dirty hands over his eyes. “Take off,” he ordered merrily. “I won’t peek. Just hurry. I’m hungry and thirsty.”

  Shannon wiggled into a sitting position, then inched off the hearth. She snatched up the quilt and covered herself. “Ready.” As Blane nimbly removed his body from the chimney, Shannon noted her sooty handprints on his face and body. She glanced down to find his black prints boldly displayed on her own flesh. She started to scold him but saw the way the brunette was eyeing the revealing marks.