“But certainly it occurred to you that these were allies.”
“My sole concern was to prevent the firing of Hawthorne. I … really had no other thought.”
“So you decided it better to have your hopes turned to ashes than this home?” Hunter was amazed that she would risk the one thing she valued most—her freedom.
Andrea looked up at him sharply, the color mounting in her cheeks. “One can hardly be compared to the other. My high regard for Hawthorne suggested an alliance.”
“And a sacrifice?”
Andrea said nothing more, and he assumed she did not intend to. She considered herself his enemy, yet had not hesitated to defend the home he loved. Her will alone had once again proved stronger than any shield of armor.
“You were aware, I suppose, that your chance of success was hardly favorable. May I ask what you would have done if your first plan had failed?”
Andrea surprised him by laughing, as if he had intended his statement as a joke. “Sir, I had no plan. I mean I did not take the time to ask myself, ‘Can this thing be done?’ I merely asked myself, ‘Is this worth doing?’”
Hunter was unable to speak for a moment. With or without a plan, it had been a feat of unprecedented daring, one that required wisdom as well as nerve. It had always been within her character to act, rather than meditate on possibilities and outcomes. Still, her courage awed him. She had within her a faith that made indisputable opportunities out of absolute impossibilities.
Hunter cleared his throat, yet his voice was still hoarse when he spoke. “I wish for you to accept the assurance of my gratitude.”
Andrea blushed and looked down. “I believe it is your servants that deserve praise. They did much to protect your stock and property.”
Hunter knew of no other woman who would, or could, have confronted such peril. And yet, she acted as if she had done nothing out of the ordinary to save his grandfather’s dream—and his future—from destruction.
“May I speak without restraint?” Hunter’s voice was barely above a whisper as he suddenly reached for her hand.
Andrea answered with a nod and stared with furrowed brow at her hand resting in his.
“I know, that is, I-I accept, that considering our circumstances, you may never consider me a friend. But your respect, Miss Evans, I desire deeply.”
Andrea’s face was calm and thoughtful as she looked up at him. “That desire has already been secured, Colonel. Whatever our association is or comes to be, you can be assured of my high regard.”
The reverent and respectful look reflected in the depths of her brilliant eyes caused Hunter’s blood to pulse more uncontrollably than from any open invitation he had ever received from a woman. “I hope, as I have never hoped, that I do nothing to forfeit that sentiment.”
Andrea stood with her hand still in his, gazing straight ahead. “It is a Virginian trait, I believe, to follow the dictates of conscience regardless of consequence. And I am honored that as a Virginian … I had the opportunity to defend Virginia soil.”
Hunter blinked at the acknowledgment of her birthright and the emotion expressed. “May I have the honor of saying,” he whispered, “that Virginia has been made more worthy by your belonging to her.”
The room grew quiet. The sound of a clock ticking in the hallway through the closed door sounded like thunder. Something passed between them, something vague and indistinguishable, yet tangible and real.
Hunter took a deep breath. Andrea lifted her eyes in expectation and met his.
“Andrea …” He said her name with a tinge of tentative uncertainty in his strong voice. “I think that … I mean, there is something that I—”
* * *
Carter burst into Hunter’s library with a swift knock. Seeing Hunter was not alone, he hurriedly removed his hat from his head and then the cigar from his mouth.
“Miss,” he said, giving a quick nod to Andrea. “’Scuse me, Colonel. Didn’t mean to barge in. Just got a dispatch from Gus.”
“Major Carter.” Andrea smiled and greeted him like an old friend. “How nice to see you again.”
He smiled politely and then looked at Hunter. “Glad to see Hawthorne made it through. From what I seen, looks to be the only place spared.”
Carter watched Andrea glance up at Hunter, who still gazed intently down at her. To Carter, they looked like two children who had been discovered sharing a secret. Both wore expressions of deep affection that exposed their emotions more plainly than spoken words could reveal, yet neither seemed to be aware of the display.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Andrea finally said. Her attention returned to Hunter and lingered there before she started toward the door.
It appeared to Carter there was almost physical contact in the shared looks. He was accustomed to seeing sparks fly when they were in the same room, but tonight the sparks were different—more like a smoldering fire about to burst into flame.
Carter waited for Hunter’s attention once Andrea left the room, but his commander continued to stare into the hallway, following her every movement. It was surprising to watch the renowned officer so engrossed, with such longing in his eyes, as he listened until her footsteps could no longer be heard.
For quite some time Carter had known that Hunter admired Andrea with almost reverential affection and that she returned the sentiment in no small way. But from what he knew of the Colonel and had learned of the girl, he doubted either of them had yet come to the same conclusion. In fact, they appeared more inclined to behave like two mules at the same hitch, each pulling in opposite directions and getting nowhere.
“That’s a noble woman there,” Carter said to break the silence. “She has few equals.”
Hunter looked up as if noticing Carter for the first time and stared through him. “She has none.”
Chapter 48
“O, beauty, till now I never knew thee!”
– Midnight Summer’s Dream, Shakespeare
Scouting with a half dozen of his men in enemy territory, Colonel Hunter pulled his horse to a stop without signaling, resulting in a general collision behind him as the group bunched up. A number of horses kicked and snorted at the contact as the men tried to rein them in.
“Colonel, you see something?” Carter whispered, knowing Hunter’s intuitiveness at finding the enemy.
Hunter stared off into the distance while the entire squad followed his gaze.
“No. Just admiring the sunrise,” he answered with a vacant, but pleasant, look upon his face.
Carter studied him to see if he was serious, then followed his gaze toward the east. “It does that every morning, sir.” Carter rolled his eyes and glanced over at Gus Dorsey who had ridden up beside him.
The men had all noticed a change in their commander. The differences in his character, though minor, were profound to those who knew him well. When lounging around the men he appeared a bit more relaxed, smiled a little more. Often they would see him staring in deep reverie at the moon, perfectly unconscious of his surroundings, as if picturing or remembering images that no one else could see. One of the men even swore he had heard Hunter whistling when returning from a scouting expedition, though that was not widely accepted as fact.
* * *
After returning to friendly territory, Hunter dismissed his men and rode all night to get back to Hawthorne. It was now dawn again, and with his home in sight, he pulled his horse to a stop to soak in the beauty before him.
Down below, beneath the rising sun, he caught glimpses of the sparkling waters of the stream that cut through Hawthorne. Through the early morning mist rising from the water, he barely made out the peaks of the house, and farther beyond, the hills that stood like silent sentinels guarding the prominent estate. He sat and scanned the scene, contemplating why the sight of Hawthorne caused his heart to rush after so many hours in the saddle.
Urging his horse forward, he began his descent and the last leg of a long journey home. Why try to analyze a feeling of ex
hilaration? It was simply a beautiful morning. Ga-lorious as Andrea would say.
Hunter smiled, and then tried to discount any connection between his eagerness to return to Hawthorne with any thoughts of her. But slowly, just like the sun eating away at the mist, the haziness of his thoughts became clear.
He caught sight of Andrea almost instantly after galloping across the bridge, and his eyes remained riveted upon her until she came into sharp focus.
Standing on the bottom of a paddock fence with her arms draped over the top rail, she seemed to be concentrating on a horse. When Hunter was nearly upon her, she gave only a half-hearted glance over her shoulder at the sound of his approach. When she saw it was him, she did a double-take. “Oh, howdy, Kuh-nel,” she drawled jokingly as he drew rein behind her.
Her eyes seemed lit with a luminous welcome before she returned her attention to the horse. The glance created a rush of warmth in Hunter’s heart and caused his blood to race.
For an instant, a divine dizziness possessed him. He sat motionless, feasting his eyes, his senses, his soul on the woman before him. The vague feeling he had strived to conceal was suddenly no longer vague. The notion that his sentiment was merely a manifestation of gratitude for her defense of Hawthorne could no longer be justified.
“Spoken like a true Virginian,” he said as he dismounted.
Andrea’s smile flickered again and so did his heart. “Well ah cain’t help my speech, suh.”
“Miss Evans, your comrades shall accuse me of trying to convert you.” Hunter eased himself up to the fence beside her and stood in silence while the gold light of September bathed them both in its warmth.
“That for Victoria?” Andrea nodded toward his hand.
“Oh, ah-h-h, no … here.” He thrust the wildflower he had picked on the hill overlooking Hawthorne toward her awkwardly, then stood and stared at her in an uncomfortable sort of way, knowing he should say something else but having absolutely no idea what it was. “It reminded me of … I mean, I thought you might like it.”
Up flashed her radiant smile and dazzled him again. “For me? For me?” Andrea took the flower and stuck it in her hair, making no effort to hide her delight. The outburst reflected a girlish exuberance that defied all she had passed through.
Hunter responded by shrugging, pretending that picking flowers was nothing out of the ordinary for him. Yet it did not require much knowledge of his character to know he would have had no more thought of picking a wildflower than plucking a pinecone but a few days earlier. Clumsily and nervously trying to find something to do with his hands, Hunter took off his hat and slapped it against his leg.
“It appears you are returning from a forced march,” Andrea said, watching the dust rise.
Hunter just nodded, not wishing to admit that she was the forcing power.
Andrea turned, and, hanging on the fence with one hand, used the other to pat his shoulder, sending another cloud of powdery dust into the air. “Turn around.” She tried to remove the worst of the grime from his shoulders and back by brushing and patting with her hand. “Looks like you’re carrying around half the sacred soil of Virginia.”
“And you no doubt enjoy beating that out of me, don’t you?” Hunter said good-naturedly.
That rippling laugh returned at his words. It was a laugh that was hers alone, a laugh that made the desolate silence that used to reign over Hawthorne echo with happiness. And it was a laugh that brought with it a woozy, wobbly feeling that made Hunter place his hand on the fence to steady himself.
“Trust I could never remove it all, Commander,” Andrea replied, making an attempt at seriousness, “for I dare say you have it running through your veins.”
Hunter looked into her smiling, glowing eyes and felt a raw ache of happiness in his heart—so acute as to be almost painful. She appeared so radiant on this beautiful, sunny day that he had to look away for fear his eyes would betray what he was thinking. Good heavens, I am losing my mind!
Standing quietly for a few moments as she turned back to the paddock, Hunter tried to calm his rushing pulse. Speech had become dangerous, but that did not stop him from gazing at her while she concentrated on the horses.
“You know,” he said, studying the side of her honey-tanned face, “if you are determined to spend so much time outdoors, you really should wear a hat.”
Andrea shrugged, her gaze locked on the horse. “But I don’t have one.”
Hunter removed his and placed it on her head. “If you’re not averse to wearing this one, it’s yours.”
The hat sank low on her head, and she pushed it up off her brow. “I suppose I should be honored to wear the hat of the gallant Hunter.”
“But you are not sure?” He smiled at her uneasiness, knowing she wrestled with the idea of wearing a Rebel hat and did not wish to offend him. “Think of it as legally captured property of war. To the victor go the spoils.”
She chuckled at that. “But I fear I did not legally capture it.”
“My dear, just because there was no bloodshed does not mean you did not legally capture it. It is yours. And your smile is ample reward.”
Andrea looked at him quizzically as if trying to see if he intended some deeper meaning from his words. Hunter quickly leaned over the fence with his arms crossed on the top rail. “I see you have your eye on the roan.”
His elbow now touched hers in relaxed abandon. Although she seemed not to notice the contact, he could barely control his thoughts. He wondered what it would feel like to stand there with his arm resting possessively over her shoulders on this brilliantly sunny day while they watched horses in the paddock side by side—as if there were no, and never had been, a war.
Hunter took a deep breath at the disheartening chance of such an event occurring, and her reaction to it, then cleared his throat. “Nice looking piece of Yankee horseflesh,” he said, trying to make conversation. “Not that he’s comparable in speed or endurance to a Virginia-bred.”
Andrea remained silent, cocking her head and examining the horse. Then she gazed confidingly up at him, almost as if a deep and comfortable affection existed between them. “Maybe not. But I know a horse that is.”
Hunter put his head back and laughed, knowing she baited him. “You think Justus is faster than Dixie? Or Dash? Funny, but usually I find a woman’s vivid imagination a bit tedious.”
Andrea looked curiously at him, as if surprised at the sound of the warm gentle voice. “Imagination? Tedious? And in my case?”
“I find it enchanting,” he said with a relaxed, boyish grin. “And someday, Miss Evans, I’d be honored to take you up on the challenge of finding out whose horse is faster.
“I look forward to that day.” Andrea grabbed his arm for support when she stepped off the bottom rail of the fence. “What shall be the stakes?” She had a laughing challenge in her eyes as she kept her arm linked in his. Hunter felt the warmth of her touch, yet her weight as she leaned on him was hardly discernible.
“Leave that to me,” he said in an emotional voice. “I’ll think of something.”
“Oh no. I believe it is I who should come up with the purse for the victor. You would oblige me?” She glanced up at him with a daring, and he thought, seductive look, as she allowed her hand to slide down his arm and into the grasp of his fingers.
Hunter’s heart missed a beat as he continued walking in a delicious trance. The simple, casual contact of holding her hand had every nerve and muscle in his body quivering in a way that had never occurred even with the most passionate touch of a woman prior.
“If such is your pleasure.” He smiled down at her with unmasked emotion. “I only hope you will make the stakes high enough.”
“Colonel, you doubt me?” She pulled him to a sudden stop, a wide grin upon her face and an audacious sparkle in her eyes.
This was the sort of thing that shook him. Hunter laughed, not so much at her words, but at the beautiful way her smile made him feel. She looked perfectly enchanting with his battle
hat upon her head, a flower peeking from beneath its brim—a characteristic contradiction of refinement and roughness, grit and grace.
“The pleasure will be all mine—win or lose.” He gazed down at her and quickly looked away. Her captivating green eyes were never devoid of power, yet today they overwhelmed him.
“I fear you don’t take me seriously.” Andrea slid her hand up to cling to his arm again. “When I win, I wish it to be fairly.”
“I did not mean to infer I will allow you to win, Miss Evans.” Hunter stopped again and tried to calm his pulsing heart. “I only meant that, should I lose, it could not be to a more deserving victor.”
They were almost to the porch now, and Hunter had the sudden urge to go back—back to the fence, start over, move in slow motion. Don’t let this moment, this morning, this feeling end. He remained silent, but his mind raced. Tell her. Tell her. Then, do not hold the reins too tightly. Relax, or she will pull and run away. He tried again to think of the right words to explain his emotions—and to find the nerve to say them out loud.
Pausing on the middle step, he looked back over his shoulder at a disturbance some horses created in the field. Andrea continued to the top step, but turned around questioningly when he did not follow.
With their eyes almost even since he now stood two steps below her, she turned all the way around and placed her hands on his shoulders playfully. “I like this. For once, I do not have to look up to you, Colonel.”
“I believe I prefer it when you do.”
Andrea tilted her head back and laughed. Gazing straight into her enchanting eyes, he knew he would remember the expression she wore on this day, no matter what else ever came to happen in the world.
“I’m sure you do, Colonel.” Andrea pushed gently on his shoulders, forcing him to take another step backward and down, his spurs clanking when they hit the slate behind him. “There,” she said, her eyes shining from under the brim of his hat. “This is even better. Now you are looking up to me.”
Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia Page 37