Stop it, Andrea. You cannot fail. Not now.
Bit by bit she managed to push his fearsome reputation and ominous threats from her mind. Truthfully, he was not nearly the roguish-looking man she remembered. Shaved clean of the stubble that had shrouded his face when last they met, he appeared like a Virginian aristocrat. Indeed, Andrea decided she could picture him as easily sitting on a throne as sitting on a horse, so courteous and polite did he seem tonight.
“So what brings you to Virginia, Miss Marlow?”
The way he looked directly into Andrea’s eyes gave her the uncomfortable feeling he was attempting to read her thoughts before she had the opportunity to lie about them.
“My aunt invited me to stay with her. As I’m sure you are aware, Maryland is quite, um, undecided about the war.”
“And you?” Hunter quickly asked.
Andrea blinked, not knowing his meaning.
“And you are decided about the war?”
“Oh, yes, quite,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek so hard it bled. “I am loyal.”
Hunter did not appear to notice she did not say to whom her loyalty referred. “You and your aunt are close?”
“Yes, of course.” Her heart banged again as she tried to decide if she’d heard a trace of suspicion in his voice.
“So your visit will be a lengthy one?”
“So long as it is pleasant and agreeable, I believe I will stay.” His inquiries began to agitate Andrea. If he knew who she was, or suspected it, why did he not just say so? Her heart pulsed with new resolve to shield herself from his barrage of questions.
“Well, tell me,” he continued in a voice pregnant with arrogance, “in a state with such mixed loyalties as Maryland, how is it that you decided to cast your allegiance with the imperial South?”
Andrea’s heart pounded, but no longer with fear. Imperial South indeed! She suddenly felt the urge to tell him and all the regal Rebels within earshot and a long ways beyond what she thought of the imperial South.
But remembering her promise to J.J., she suffered in silence, hoping her face was not red from the suppression of intense emotion. She answered his question with a question and did not lie. “Why, Captain, how can you ask such a thing? I would not be in Richmond but for the Confederacy.”
“By necessity or choice?”
The feeling of loathing and aversion at having to tolerate his infuriating Southern pride became so strong that Andrea could no longer conceal it.
“Sir, is this an interrogation or a dance?” She cocked her head to one side and looked into his eyes defiantly. “Because had I been aware that your intent was a military grilling rather than the privilege of a waltz, I most certainly would have declined the honor.”
Andrea watched the corner of Hunter’s mouth turn up unexpectedly as he threw back his head and laughed. The effect knocked her off guard. She had never seen such an engaging smile radiate from a man before and never dreamed it possible from this one. The lifting of his lips revealed straight, white teeth, and exposed two small dimples that completely changed the look of his usually stern visage. And those eyes—those cool, stern eyes, now literally twinkled with amusement.
“Miss, I apologize. You were, however, forewarned that I am no gentleman.”
Hunter’s voice was warmer now, his face much less severe. But the smile quickly disappeared as if he was not accustomed to wearing it.
“I was beginning to wonder about your motives for dancing with me,” Andrea said boldly. “To my knowledge, I’ve asked you to divulge no military secrets. Yet you seem to think me a spy.”
“On the contrary. It’s my understanding that you are new to Richmond, and I wanted to make you feel welcome.”
Andrea gave him a coquettish smile. “And you conceive it your duty, Captain, to make the young ladies of Richmond feel welcome?”
“In some cases, yes. In this particular case, not my duty, my privilege.”
Andrea felt the color rise in her cheeks. She could feel her resolve almost melt away at the sound of his rich, persuasive voice. She forced herself to remember who he was.
“I so seldom attend events of this nature, I merely wanted to dance with the belle of the ball,” he continued. “Be assured, you have nothing to fear from me.”
Andrea laughed inwardly at his last statement, but responded to the former one. “Me? The belle of the ball? You know what they say about flatterers, do you not?”
“No. What would that be?”
“Flatterers look like friends, as wolves like dogs.”
Hunter’s face broke once again into a smile. Well, not quite a smile. Only one side of his mouth took part this time in a half-cocked grin that was somehow even more captivating. “Perhaps in Maryland,” he finally answered. “But Virginian women love to be flattered.”
“Is that why they all know you so well?” Andrea nodded toward the women staring with open admiration at their dashing hero. “It would appear my notoriety among the men is matched only by yours among the ladies in the room tonight.”
Hunter shook his head and locked his eyes on hers. For a moment she wondered why she had thought them so frightening before. They were nothing but sparkling and brilliant and full of expression now.
“The ladies here, I can assure you, are familiar only with my reputation on the battlefield.”
* * *
Hunter felt strangely content matching wits with his new dance partner, as opposed to the endless banter with which he had been deluged the rest of the evening. Most of the women in the room seemed utterly devoid of intelligent thought, yet amused themselves by buzzing into his business and annoying him like so many bothersome bees. To converse with a woman whose intellectual capabilities were equal to the task was enjoyable. But something about this young stranger troubled him.
For one, her eyes revealed a strong suggestion of cleverness, mixed now and again with something that definitely resembled contempt. He studied the vibrant, green orbs once more and tried to decipher what lay in their depths. Although they appeared calm and serious in their expression at the moment, something within them gave him the impression they could erupt into flames if driven to anger or excitement. He sensed, even if he could not see, a soul with deep feeling. He wondered what lay hidden beneath the mask.
“Do not accept as fact what in fact is not,” his grandfather had told him once in reference to horseflesh. But even with the warning, Hunter did not envision that the gown that swished so alluringly against his legs concealed muscles that were nearly as strong as his own. That they could, in spite of fatigue and fear, carry their owner into streams, and even bareback over stone walls, if circumstances required.
“Are you certain we’ve never met before? You seem strangely familiar to me.”
His partner laughed a bit nervously. “I’m certain, sir, any encounter with you would be inexorably branded in my mind.”
Hunter pondered her response, wondering if she had really answered his query.
“Likely, you will wish to forget me,” she said then as if to prevent him from mulling over the statement. “You would perhaps find that I am vain and overbearing.”
“I can say that of most women.” He hadn’t meant to say the words, but it was too late now to stop them.
“And I can say that of most of the officers in this room,” his partner quipped. She quickly flashed him a smile, as if she too regretted the rashness of her words. “Though, I dare say, you boast less than others of equal military rank.”
Hunter laughed softly. “Pray don’t compare me to them. One only need boast when his record does not speak for itself.”
“Then pray don’t compare me to most women. I believe you will find the resemblance equally unreliable.”
“Fair enough, Miss Marlow.” Hunter fell silent then, but his mind remained busy. He was both bewildered by his partner’s boldness and fascinated by her charm. He found it refreshing to speak to one who was well mannered, yet not reverent or fawning like the
others in attendance. This young lady did not seem the least bit in awe of his power or reputation. Rather, she seemed content on disproving he was worthy of possessing either one.
If she was hiding something, she was doing a good job. He had never met anyone whose eyes could be so expressive one moment, expressionless the next.
“What did you do before the war, Captain Hunter?” she suddenly asked, as if feeling the weight of his stare upon her. “Before you became a soldier?”
“My men and I are not soldiers. We are citizens of Virginia defending our native soil.”
Hunter thought he saw a hint of anger flicker in her eyes, but it quickly disappeared—if indeed it was ever there at all. “I am a horse breeder by trade.”
“Truly?” The vague look in her eyes turned to intense interest. “And what bloodlines have you?”
“You really want to know?”
“Why would I not?” She appeared sincerely confused.
“Most women are not interested in such things.” He felt his partner stiffen in his arms, and her brows drew together. Gone instantly was the demure ladylike demeanor and the lovely green eyes that had seemed to dance.
“Again you presume to know me so well as to assume I am like most women.”
Yes, the innocent, young girl had disappeared. The chin and firmly pursed lips now clearly bespoke the strength of a lion. Eyes that had sparked now flamed, lit from a spirited fire within.
“Pardon my presumption,” Hunter responded as he watched her reaction curiously. “My stock is in a state of decline with the war, but Lyonhart is my main sire.”
That cannot be so,” she replied, almost stopping in the middle of the dance floor. “Why, everyone knows Lyonhart stands at Hawthorne.”
“Your information is correct.”
She responded with a disbelieving stare. “You? Hawthorne?”
“Alexander Hawthorne Hunter at your service. I shall assume you’ve heard of my estate.”
Hunter had no way of knowing how many hours his partner had spent in the loft above her father’s stable in South Carolina, listening to men below discuss horses and that far-away breeding farm Hawthorne where so many of the bloodlines originated.
“And Fearnaught—”
“Ah-h, you do know bloodlines. Fearnaught, our original sire, lived to quite an old age.”
Hunter could tell his partner listened intelligently, a trait he found rather unusual for a woman. “Now how would a young lady from Maryland be so knowledgeable about Virginia horseflesh?” Hunter watched a curtain descend upon his partner’s eyes, blanking out any clues hidden there.
“Everyone knows of the famous sire of Eclipse,” she said, referring to the legendary racehorse. “I just heard it somewhere.” The smile planted on her face faded as she stared wistfully into space.
Before he could discover anything more about his mysterious partner, the music ended. “Welcome to Virginia, Miss Marlow.” Hunter disengaged himself from her grasp and gave a low bow with cavalier grace. “I hope your time with us is pleasant and agreeable for a long time to come.”
* * *
A dull throbbing in her ankle as she stood dumbfounded on the dance floor brought Andrea back to her senses. Declining a number of requests for her dance card, she made her way to the door, trying not to limp as the pain grew more intense. She needed a break, some fresh air, and a chance to rest her ankle. And she needed a moment to think. Had she unwittingly said too much? Something that would incriminate her? Everything about the last few minutes seemed a blur.
Andrea fought the urge to run toward the door as the heat of the room grew oppressive. Sidestepping groups of women who stopped to talk in front of her, she became increasingly frantic. Memories of a dark, hot enclosure started to surface, causing her heart to beat in a frenzied panic. She began nudging people out of the way—some none too politely. She had to get a breath of fresh air, get outside, feel the night on her skin.
Finally squeezing through the door, she rushed to the railing of the veranda, leaned over, and gulped in the cool air. But even the veranda was crowded. Despite the pain in her ankle, she walked through the garden until the voices from the party finally hushed to a whisper. Half sitting in the notch of a huge oak tree, Andrea closed her eyes, leaned her head back, and let out a long sigh.
“I see I’m not the only one who feels like a caged animal in there.” His voice came smooth and deep from out of the darkness. Andrea stood quickly, losing her balance when her ankle gave way. Two strong arms caught her, and once again Andrea found herself staring into the eyes of Captain Hunter.
“Are you all right?” He sounded surprisingly sincere.
“Yes. No. I mean … I’m afraid I sprained my ankle during a … ah … riding accident.” Andrea sighed in exasperation. “And dancing has made it worse.”
“I confess I noticed you limping and wanted to make sure my dancing was not the cause.”
“Not at all.” Andrea began to regain her composure. “If you fight as well as you dance then the Yankees have much to fear.”
“So you ride?” Hunter ignored her last statement.
Andrea’s heart floundered in her chest again like a fish flopping out of water. Now she knew she had said too much. “N-n-not very well … obviously.”
Hunter grinned slightly at the comment. “Well, you must be quite an actress.” He continued holding onto her waist, forcing Andrea to remain holding onto his thick forearms. The man was as solid as the oak tree behind her.
“Actress?” She tried to sound unconcerned, but it came out more like a fearful question.
“Yes, to be able to dance so effortlessly all evening with an injured ankle.” He stared at her thoughtfully another moment. “You know, you have the most unfathomable eyes. They seem only to show what you want to be seen.”
“Is that not the way for every woman?”
Hunter did not return her smile this time. “I can tell what most women want at a glance.”
“And you find that most women want something?”
He did not answer with anything other than his eyes, which appeared eerily blue-gray in the moonlight and seemed to betray a suggestion of disdain toward the subject.
“Then again, sir, I hope I stand apart.”
Silence stretched between them, yet neither turned away until another couple came walking toward them. “My aunt will be worried.”
Hunter looked at her intently again, tipped his hat, and nodded. “Yes, and I’m afraid I’ve made myself late for a train.”
“You are leaving Richmond?” Andrea feared her voice sounded too relieved. “I mean … I do hope you have a safe trip, Captain.”
“And I do hope your ankle feels better, Miss Marlow.”
Andrea gave him a quick nod, then picked up her skirts and turned toward the house. She controlled the urge to run, despite feeling the stabbing effect of his penetrating gaze until she was well beyond his view. It was then that Andrea compared her evening with riding a hundred grueling miles under punishing temperatures and wind-driven rain without benefit of sustenance or water or rest.
And she wondered why she had ever thought this night was going to be easy.
Chapter 14
“From the first moment I beheld thy face,
I felt a tenderness in my soul towards thee.”
– John Endicott
Fredericksburg
November, 1862
Andrea sat with gloved hands clenched together in her lap, trying to maintain her balance in a carriage that careened violently over a rutted road. She blamed her trembling hands and banging heart on exhaustion and nerves, not on the fact that in a few minutes she would be standing in front of Colonel Daniel Delaney for the first time in several months, and not on the fact that he had no idea she was coming.
She took a deep breath to calm herself when the carriage began to slow. The wearying ride across an endless succession of ruts and potholes rattled her nerves, causing her to question the decision to embar
k on this journey. She possessed no pass to cross into Union territory. And though the soldiers at the last outpost had been kind enough, the officer of the guard sent along an escort to ensure that Colonel Delaney could vouch for her character. Andrea hoped he would not be too disturbed by her sudden appearance to do so.
The sound of shouts and the clatter and clank of horses and artillery warned Andrea that she neared her destination. The road became even more crowded with soldiers, horses, and caissons, forcing the carriage to slow still further. Loud voices and music joined the sounds, and a large mansion came into view. Andrea stared at the magnificent home, lit from top to bottom, inside and out, with every conceivable size and shape of lantern.
“This is the Lacy house, miss.” A soldier held out his hand and helped her out of the carriage. “Who did you say would wish to see you?”
Andrea gazed at a two-story porch that overflowed with officers and soldiers. Suppressing the urge to run, she cleared her throat. “Colonel Daniel Delaney.”
As the soldiers escorted her toward the house, Andrea gazed around. There were soldiers everywhere. Some talked and laughed in small groups, while others appeared to be departing or returning from a nearby field of campfires.
“Might you know a Colonel Delaney?” One of her guards questioned a group of soldiers holding a discussion under a walnut tree. An officer nodded toward the river. “There he comes now.”
Andrea pulled her full-length cloak more tightly around her against the chill as she watched Daniel stride purposefully in her direction with true martial poise. His gaze was locked on the ground, but he nodded his head occasionally, apparently in serious conversation with the officer beside him.
Andrea turned away, the sight of his tall, manly form causing a strange sensation of fear and excitement to engulf her. She had no idea what she planned to say. What if he does not wish to see me? She heard muffled voices and knew the guard had approached him. Although actual words were lost in the breeze, she could tell from Daniel’s tone he was irritated by the interruption. Her face grew warm. Her hands trembled.
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