Triumph

by Heather Graham

  “Yes, but—go on.”

  He was challenging her. He didn’t seem easily seduced in the least.

  She bit her lip.

  “But you’re really not a monster.”

  “Can you be so certain? We are all different things to different people, aren’t we? Maybe I am a monster.”

  “Well ... I’ve talked to you now.”

  “Yes.”

  She offered what she hoped was a winning smile.

  “Slept through the night with you.”

  He was watching her, but smiles and flirtatious talk didn’t seem to create the smitten effect she had hoped for.

  His hand curled over hers where it lay upon his chest. He was a towering man, gazing down at her. She drew his hand to her lips, pressed a soft kiss against it, led it to her breast. A fine hand, large, long-fingered, the palm calloused. He was a man who worked with those hands, and yet, they were still somehow quite fine. And when his hand lay against her flesh ...

  She was startled to find herself the one shaken by the contact. A lightning sizzle of heat seemed to flash through her. She was hot, cold, weak.

  “I don’t see you as a monster,” she whispered.

  “No?”

  She shook her head slowly, then she rose on her toes, coming closer, closer, closer. She saw the fire in his eyes. His head lowered toward her own. She felt the pressure of his lips, and again the flash of fire, the touch of his tongue, and a feeling so hotly, damnably erotic ...

  Then suddenly she was spinning, forced around before him, and locked with her back against the wall of his chest as he pulled a Colt—and aimed it at Trey and Gilly, who had been rushing for him.

  “Don’t make me shoot,” he warned with deadly quiet.

  They both stood still, ashamed, looking at their feet, at one another, at him, at Tia.

  “Don’t shoot them!” she cried out. “They meant you no harm.”

  “No harm—other than a bullet in the back?” he suggested.

  “No, that would be—”

  “Foolish, since it might have killed you as well!” he said angrily. She felt his arm tighten around her waist.

  “No, sir. We never intended to shoot you. That would be murder. We never intended that, sir,” Gilly said.

  Perhaps the Yankee believed him. “And Private, it wasn’t exactly your plan, was it?” the Yank inquired.

  Trey shifted uneasily. “No, sir.”

  “Go back to the cabin,” the Yank advised.

  They were green boys. They had been raised as gentlemen. They stared at Tia, afraid, awaiting her word.

  “Go back to the cabin. I imagine I’ll be joining you shortly,” Tia said.

  “We can’t leave if you intend her harm,” Gilly said. His Adam’s apple was wiggling, but his words were admirably brave.

  “On my word, gentlemen, the lady will remain unharmed.”

  “Go on back to the cabin,” she murmured. It might be the only way the man would ever release her.

  And at last, the two turned, as told. If they lived, she thought, they would be good men. She stood dead still, barely daring to breathe as they left.

  Then suddenly, abruptly, and with a frightening force, the Yank spun her again in his arms. “Let’s finish what we started.”

  “What?” she cried with alarm.

  “We’ll finish what we started. You were saying ... I’m not a monster, my lips were on yours, my hand ... fingers, they were in a delightful realm of exploration.”

  “No ...”

  She was certain that she’d said the word, that she’d voiced the protest. And yet ...

  Was she afraid? The word was so weak, a whisper on the air, nothing real, just a breath.

  No, it was him, the relentless force with which he touched her ...

  She felt his lips again, his kiss, deep, hot, wet, seeming to delve into her being and her soul. She set a hand against him, to push him away. She didn’t know if he so much as felt her fight, if it meant anything to him, or if her intent was lost against the very power of his embrace. And she wasn’t sure at all how it happened, but her bodice was opened completely, her breasts were bared, and his hands were upon them. She was backed against a tree, aware that as he kissed her—a searing, ravishing kiss, almost indecent in itself, seeming to consume both thought and honor—she was sliding to the cool ground. But he was with her. He was there to break her fall, to catch her, hold her, embrace her. The air was cool, but her flesh seemed ablaze. She must protest with a greater urgency, stop this madness raking her system, parting her lips, giving way to the force of his kiss, the heat of his passion. Dear God, where was this leading? Couldn’t she put up a better fight. Oh God, not a better fight, just a fight at all ...

  Then suddenly, his lips broke from hers.

  He stood. Towering there, he straddled her prone body from above, looking down at her. She met his eyes, confused, then aware of her half-naked state, flushed cheeks, damp, swollen lips. She jerked her bodice together, shimmied on her buttocks to a sitting position against the tree, staring at him. “What—” she gasped, moistening her lips, searching for words, “What—”

  “What, indeed? I mean, you had been seducing me, right? Pretense, we both know that. So ... were you supposed to be able to claim that you were callously ravished by a vicious Yank? Take my hand, get up. I have no intention of destroying the fragile flower of any sweet, innocent Southern woman.”

  She could hear just how sweet and innocent he considered her to be.

  Her honor seemed as broken as the South.

  “Oh, get away from me!” she cried, rising, the tree a fine bulwark behind her. “The men might have managed to take you this time.”

  He laughed. Very rudely. “Oh, Godiva, I don’t think so! The men were gone, weren’t they? They had refused to leave you without my word that I’d cause you no harm—”

  “And you lied!”

  “Never. You are not in the least harmed.”

  Oh, he was mistaken! Her pride and self-respect were damaged beyond redemption!

  “Your conceit is unbearable! Get away from me. If you truly mean no harm—”

  “I never meant harm, but you are dangerously over-zealous in your determination that you can outwit an enemy, and you certainly have and do intend great harm,” he warned her. His voice was suddenly so angry that she bit into her lip, backing away. “You will find yourself caught in an awful backlash, you little fool. Setting out to hurt others may well be dangerous. You came upon me. You don’t know who is out there, you truly don’t know the full scope of what the war has created, and in your quest to destroy your enemy—”

  “I’m not trying to destroy you—”

  “Ah, there you have it! Fundamentally, we disagree. But damn you, you will listen to me. I’m trying to make you give a care for your own life and safety—”

  “Hey, Yank!”

  Tia was startled. If the Yank was, he gave no sign.

  Still, she sprang hopefully to her feet. Reprieve.

  It was Trey calling. Enfield in his hand, he was running through the pines, anxious to reach the brook. Breathlessly he called out, “Dixie’s coming. Dickinson and his troops, sir. Fifty, sixty men, coming this way.”

  Dixie. Captain Jonathan Dickinson. He and his cavalry were often all that had defended the state of Florida. She’d been hoping to meet up with him.

  And now ...

  The Yank had been looking for Dixie, as well, she thought, her heart thundering.

  “Trey! You’ve given him Dixie’s position, damn it!” she swore suddenly. “That’s exactly why he has stayed with us, what he’s been waiting for! He’s been searching out Dixie’s position, and we have led him to the very place!”

  “No!” Trey protested. “No, that’s not possible. He’s been a decent human being to us. I’ve just given him a chance to leave!”

  “Knowing Dixie’s position!” Tia spat out. And it was true. He’d been out scouting for Dixie and his troops to begin with—he had
just stumbled upon them. And they had given him the information he’d wanted.

  “You needn’t give your young soldier there any kind of a reprimand. I’ve known Captain Dixie to be in the area.”

  “You were looking for him.”

  “Maybe.”

  “And now you know exactly where he is.”

  He shrugged, and she wondered if he was even out to destroy Dixie—or if he had just come to make certain of the man’s movements. Dixie was a small man—almost as small as she was herself. But he was a formidable soldier, and he’d kept the Yankees jumping many a time.

  “Well, Godiva,” the Yank said, “you’ve suggested that you want me gone. That I should leave, that you wanted to be quit of my presence. I think that time has come. And indeed, I feel assured for your personal safety—you’re with your boys here, and soon enough you’ll have the escort of larger forces.”

  “Are you insinuating that you’ve kept me safe in any way?” she inquired incredulously.

  “Godiva, I’m sure you really don’t understand all that’s out there!”

  “Enemies of my state, my country, are out there, that’s all I know!” she informed him heatedly.

  “I think I will be on my way,” the Yankee said. He saluted Trey, who saluted in return. Then he startled Tia by drawing her to him with a frightening strength.

  “A warning here,” he said, and his voice grated. “A warning with true wishes that you survive the war with mind, body, and soul intact. Behave, Godiva, for yourself—and lest your good Southern parents discover their daughter’s wanton ways!”

  She lifted her chin. “Well, I just have to thank God you don’t know them and that you will never darken their door!” she informed him. Oddly, her voice betrayed her—wavering just a hair.

  “Ah! I’ve touched a nerve, have I? I’d quite begun to think that impossible. My, my, ravished in the woods—and she would have endured! A fine sacrifice for the great Southern Cause! Yet mention Mother and Father and ... perhaps I do know them, my dear. Oh, Godiva! Do take care! You are far too reckless, and trust me, you never know just what wolves do lurk in the forest on the prowl for naked beauties!”

  With a deep, mocking bow, he turned from her.

  And disappeared into the pines.

  Chapter 5

  December 15

  Northern Virginia

  “WHY, I’M TELLING YOU, sir, it’s the truth, this is God’s own free man, I swear it! And I promise you that I am a free woman myself, and have been since the day I was born!”

  “Listen, darkee, ain’t no person of color leaving here without a look over by the bounty hunters.”

  “I can’t be detained! And neither can my brother, nor his wife here! He’s one chance of a good job, and if I don’t have him spruced up by tomorrow morning—”

  “Get out of the line!” the white soldier shouted, his face turning red, the veins in his neck all bulging.

  Curiously, Sydney found herself walking forward. She knew the voice of the woman talking. It was Sissy.

  Sissy, with whom she had lived in Washington. A beautiful, extremely intelligent young black woman who had performed espionage for the Union. Who had worked with Jesse Halston, the man who was Sydney’s—

  Husband. Yes, and actually, Sydney was married to Jesse partially because of Sissy. Sissy had been privy to her moments on the night she’d been arrested; and so, in a roundabout way, she was partially responsible for the fact that Jesse had felt honor-bound to marry her—and get her out of Old Capitol.

  Sydney, not sure at first what she was doing, excused herself, cutting through the line. She addressed the balding, sallow-faced officer in charge.

  “What is the problem here, sir?”

  She saw Sissy’s eyes widen even as the officer stared at her, looking her up and down. Sissy knew that Sydney had gone to visit Brent, but perhaps she hadn’t been expecting her back on the same day she was evidently returning home from some trip south herself.

  A dangerous trip for a free black woman—especially one who had already been seized by slave hunters, and given over to a man with designs of becoming her master. A man responsible for the whip scars that littered Sissy’s back.

  “Ain’t no darkees goin’ by me, ma’am, and I don’t care how prissy their language might be. Book learning!” He spat into the dirt.

  “This darkee, sir, works for me,” Sydney said imperiously.

  “Does she, now?” the man demanded. “Thought you were a Southern woman, Miss McKenzie. You are Miss McKenzie, right? I seen you about a year ago, working down at the Chimborizo hospital then.”

  “Why, yes, I was there!” She smiled, grateful they’d hit common ground.

  “Ain’t no darkees getting by me, miss!” he insisted again.

  She met Sissy’s eyes and frowned, wondering what on earth had tempted Sissy to do something so stupid as to leave the safety of Washington.

  “You don’t understand. I give you my word that she is a free woman.”

  The soldier hesitated. “Maybe I ought to call my colonel in.”

  “Maybe you had best!” Sydney said. “My God! My eldest brother risks his life daily against the Union blockade to keep the South alive, and I have just come from seeing another brother who risks his life daily to save our soldiers! I have put my own life in peril again and again, sir, and you are trying to make my life difficult, denying me the right to leave my own country with my own servant?”

  He cleared his throat.

  “That, ma’am, is the point. You are attempting to return to Washington—a hotbed of illegal activity!”

  “Call your superior, sir. Now! Or, I promise you, they will hear about this in the highest of government—and military—circles!”

  That made the man pause. “Fine. You can take the darkee with the big mouth. Too bad she ain’t somebody’s slave—a good whomping might shut her up and show her her place! But the man and his wife stay.”

  Frowning, Sydney looked around Sissy at the tall, emaciated-looking black man and the thinner woman at his side. They looked forty, but probably weren’t much more than twenty, she thought.

  “Sissy—”

  “Why ma’am, I told you my mommy died just outside Manassas, and that I was coming for Del here and his wife, Geraldine!” Sissy told her enthusiastically.

  Sissy had told her no such thing. And she doubted that this man was Sissy’s brother. But who was he. And what in God’s name was Sissy doing?

  Sissy suddenly let out an awful wail. “I can’t leave my brother, Miss Sydney, ma’am. What with my momma newly dead and all—”

  “Sir!” Sydney interrupted, “I’m telling you this woman is in my employ. I’ll vouch for her and the others,” she said firmly.

  The soldier seemed indecisive. “There’s word you married a Yank, ma’am.”

  “Word is true. But it hasn’t changed who I am, or where I was born, sir. You said that you knew me. I helped hundreds of men in that hospital, sir.”

  “But you’re going through the lines to return to your new husband in the Northern capital. Why should I take your word?”

  Sydney knew she was capable of being extremely assertive when she chose. Partially because she had inherited her facial structure from her grandmother’s family—she had strong, wide cheekbones, a dead straight nose, and wide eyes beneath a clear, defined brow. Yet her eyes, green as a forest, were from her mother, and it was from her mother as well that she had learned to be assertive and determined—and courteous, of course—all in one.

  “You should take my word, sir, because I have offered it, and I promise you that I do not do so lightly.”

  “You have your papers?”

  “Yes, of course, I have travel papers. I am on personal business, family business, and nothing more. My papers to leave the North were approved by General Magee, and my permission to return to the North was signed by General Longstreet just yesterday!”

  “All right, then, ma’am, take your people and pass on t
hrough. I can’t, however, promise you any safety from here on out. You’re still some distance from the Yankee lines. But there ain’t been much action of late.”

  “I know that, sir. Thank you for the warning. Sissy, come along now—with Del and Geraldine.”

  She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and walked on by. Slowly. An orderly from her brother’s surgery remained with the crude wagon he had managed to allow her for transportation back to the North. Corporal Randall’s skinny roan mare was tied to the rear of the wagon. When they reached Northern lines, he would leave her with the conveyance, and return to her brother’s surgery outside Richmond.

  She prayed that Sissy was walking along behind her—slowly. But she didn’t turn back. She reached the wagon, and the young dark-haired man with the scraggly beard and blade of grass in his teeth. “Corporal Randall, we’ve company for the trip back.”

  Randall arched a brow.

  “One of my servants, and her kin.”

  Randall looked over her shoulder, inspecting the three people following behind her. He spat out the blade of grass.

  “You ain’t bringing contraband slaves North, are you, Miss Sydney?”

  “Heavens, no! May I remind you, I went to prison for my Rebel espionage.”

  “Just checking, ma’am. You do have a Yank husband now.”

  “Indeed, sir, I try not to condemn him for his loyalty, and I pray he will not condemn me for mine.” She turned to Sissy and the thin pair who hovered just slightly behind her. “Up in the wagon, and let’s go.” Sissy, her “brother,” and his wife crawled up into the rear of the wagon. Sydney took a seat next to Corporal Randall, and he flicked the whip over the backs of the mules made available for her transport. Randall rode with his eyes straight ahead as they started out, then he turned to look at Sydney. “You do know these folks?”