Then all manner of heat began to rise in her, and her cheeks bloomed crimson and she swallowed down the thoughts. Thank God he was gone. She didn’t have to submit to any wifely duty.
Or feel that shameful tug to surrender, the desire to reach out, to touch something sweet and magical and elusive.
She leaned her head back against the pillar, opening her eyes to watch the sky around her. It was so very blue today. The dead heat of summer was leaving, and fall was beginning to come upon them. It was such a beautiful time in Virginia. The air would be wonderfully cool, the sky still so beautiful, and then the leaves and trees would begin to change and the green landscape would be carpeted in color. She did love her home. Passionately.
She sighed, watching a spider build a web. Eventually, Jeremy would make the trip west. What then?
She bit her lower lip. She had caught Jesse watching her so frequently lately. And she had seen a heartsick expression in his eyes.
He wasn’t going to play along much longer with the story that they had entered willingly into marriage. And then he was going to feel guilty the rest of his life, certain that he had caused her hardship by not being there when he should.
He had already torn apart half of the government offices in town trying to discover what had happened. But not even Jesse had been able to find out the truth. Everything had been in order on paper. There should have been plenty of time for Christa to reach Jesse, for him to have come home and straightened things out. Reconstruction staff had come and gone, men knew what they had been ordered to do, and the truth had eluded them all. The buyer who had been so frantic to buy the place and burn it down had disappeared without a clue.
So Cameron Hall still stood. And it was still her home. But Daniel and Callie were moving out with their children, anxious to set up housekeeping on their own. She would be welcome either place.
She rose, having forgotten the feeling of dizziness, and walked back to the brick pathway before the house where her mare was standing. She reached up to take down the saddlebags with their precious cargo of silver dinnerware and napkin rings. When she lifted the saddlebags down, the dizziness seized her once again. She swore softly—having learned some very colorful language during the war—and hurriedly set the bags down on the steps. She was startled by a sudden surge within her stomach. She leaned a hand against a pillar and paused for a moment. She’d felt queasy a few mornings ago, but she had swallowed hard and the feeling had passed. It would do so again.
She waited. The feeling didn’t pass. To her astonishment, it worsened.
There was a well around the side of the house and Daniel had just tested it the day before. Cool water might help. She walked around quickly to the well and pulled up a bucket of water, drinking deeply from the ladle.
It didn’t help. She clutched her stomach, and found herself being sick into the midst of a honeysuckle vine. She straightened, dismayed, wondering what sort of strange disease she might have caught. She ladled out more water, bathing her face in it, washing out her mouth, trying to swallow more down. It stayed. Maybe she was going to be all right.
The petticoat she wore was a very old one. It had already been ripped up once, the day Eric Dabney had tried to burn Cameron Hall down with his renegade forces. She had made bandages from it for Jesse to treat the wounded. It didn’t seem much of a loss now to rip another panel of cotton from it to dip in the water and continue to cool her forehead. She soaked it, then leaned against the well, her eyes closed as she set the cloth against her face.
As she did so, she felt a curious feeling of unease slip over her, as if she were being watched.
She pulled the cloth from her face and stared across the weeded and overgrown yard.
A horseman had come upon her. A Yankee horseman. Jeremy.
As usual, he seemed to be in excellent condition. From his shiny black cavalry boots to his Union blue jacket and plumed hat, he was handsomely attired. When he dismounted from his horse and walked toward her, she noted that he hadn’t lost a whit of his sleek muscled tone or suppleness. His hat was pulled low over still-relentless silver-gray eyes and neatly clipped russet hair. He was clean-shaven, and his features seemed exceptionally striking against the precision of his uniform.
Damn him. He had a habit of coming upon her when she was less than at her best. Last time she had been in the dirt, fighting off Bobby-boy. Now she was in old, worn clothing, her hair was damp and her cheeks were flushed, and she had just been wretchedly sick.
The closer he came, the more fiercely her heart began to pound.
“Want a hand?” he offered. “Are you going to faint or fall?”
She stiffened instantly. “Of course I’m not going to faint or fall. I—”
“You’re a Cameron, right? And Camerons never falter.” He paused, his hands on his hips, his head cocked at an angle as he watched her. Why did he make it sound like such a bad thing that she was determined to stand alone?
She stared at his face, and despite herself, she felt a slow flush coming to her cheeks. He was back. And despite herself, emotions seemed to be racing through her.
She turned quickly back to the well, using it to brace herself. “How long have you been there?” she whispered.
“Long enough.”
“How did you—find me?”
“I’ve been by Cameron Hall.”
She nodded. Needing something to do, and feeling so ridiculously flushed, she dipped her ripped piece of petticoat into the water again, pressing it against her forehead. “I’m sorry, I must be catching something. Perhaps you should stay away.”
She was amazed at the crooked smile that slid easily onto his lips.
“You think that you’re ill?” he queried her, an amused glint of silver in his eyes.
She threw up her hands. “Well, McCauley, I’m ever so glad my misfortune amuses you.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no misfortune of yours would amuse me. I just don’t think that you’re ill.”
“Then—”
“Christa, my sweet innocent!” he said with exasperation, making her sound anything but sweet or innocent. “Hasn’t it even occurred to you that you might be expecting a child?”
Perhaps she had flushed red before. Now she felt every drop of blood seem to drain from her face. No! It never had occurred to her! She’d been busy, she’d been torn, she’d been wretched.
And she’d been queasy. Morning after morning now. If she’d given the least attention to the time that had elapsed she might have noticed that …
“Have you missed your monthly?” he demanded frankly.
The blood came surging back to her face. “How—how dare you speak to me about such things! A gentleman should never, never—”
“Jesu, Christa, spare me this!”
“You shouldn’t even know about such things!” she charged him.
His smile was back. He was keenly amused once again. “Do forgive me. Christa, we both grew up on farms—be it true that mine was ever so humble while yours was ever so grand! And it’s rather difficult for a man to have reached my age with a total lack of knowledge.”
“I don’t think you’re lacking anything,” she charged him miserably. She was going to be sick again. She couldn’t be so. Not with him here right on top of her, asking such personal questions. “Could you please just go away?”
“Christa, I want to know—”
“Don’t, please!” she whispered miserably. “Maybe you know such things, but you shouldn’t talk about them!” She placed the rag against her forehead, suddenly wishing him away.
He didn’t go away. “Christa, turn around. Look at me.”
She shook her head. Damn Jeremy. He never just let her be. His hands were on her shoulders and he was turning her around. The glint of silver amusement was gone from his eyes. Before she knew it he was at her side, sweeping her up into his arms.
“I’m not going to fall!” she protested irritably. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t be sick again
.
He walked her around to the porch, sitting upon the steps where he could brace his back against a pillar. With his left arm supporting her, he used his right hand to gently press the cooling rag over her forehead and cheeks. She closed her eyes, most certainly unaccustomed to such a show of care.
It felt curiously soothing. Maybe because she was just worn out. He seemed a very strong protector at the moment, and it seemed especially nice not to feel the need to fight. His arm was very strong, his chest secure. His touch was gentle if not tender. He smelled nicely of clean soap and sweet tobacco, leather and brandy, all scents that she had known and loved all her life.
But they came with Jeremy McCauley, she realized suddenly. And if he was right, she was going to have his child. From that one wretched night when he had determined that it was going to be a real marriage, that he wasn’t going to politely go away.
Well, maybe he couldn’t have done so. Maybe he had salvaged something for her with Jesse and Daniel. Maybe she had owed him.
But not this much!
Her eyes suddenly flew open. His were on hers, deep gray, intense. “It can’t be!” she whispered. “There was only the one night!”
Something seemed to shield his eyes. “Christa, it certainly can be—from only one night.”
Something about his voice was very irritating, and she was suddenly frightened. She wasn’t ready for this kind of responsibility. There was too much else to worry about!
No, not anymore. She didn’t have to worry anymore.
He was watching her. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you!” she snapped. “You’d get to feel wonderfully puffed up and arrogant and proud of your male prowess!”
He sighed, his teeth grating. “Christa, I wouldn’t feel a thing. Jesse could explain it to you better than me, if you haven’t raised your horses long enough to know about breeding! If it was the right night for you to conceive, it was the right night, and it would have damned little to do with any magnificent prowess on my part.”
Her lashes fell quickly, covering her eyes. She was sorry she had snapped at him. Really, he managed to behave much better than she did upon occasion.
But he wasn’t going to have a baby!
She opened her eyes again and met his. She didn’t know if he was pleased or displeased or still amused. She swallowed, suddenly trembling from his touch and feeling as if she needed to escape it. “I’m sorry,” she murmured quickly. “I’m all right now.”
She was pushing away and so he helped her up, standing along with her, one booted foot on a step as he did so. He looked up at her on the porch. “Really,” she said. “It may just be nothing, you know. The heat—”
“It’s not very hot today,” he said politely.
She couldn’t be having his child! He was still a stranger, still the enemy, even if they’d fought alongside each other upon occasion.
Even if he had touched her. Made her feel …
She lifted her chin. “You act as if you know something about women expecting … babies. As if—” She broke off, some startling intuition coming to her. “You’ve had a child. I mean—you’ve fathered a child!”
It was an accusation. She certainly didn’t expect the dark fury that constricted his features. After all, she was legally his wife. He was the one who should be apologizing, coming up with a quick explanation.
“I’ve no living children,” he stated coldly.
“But—”
“I’ve no living children. Drop it, Christa, now.”
The sudden cold from him seemed to wrap around her. Fine. She lifted her chin. “So what are you doing here? What has brought you back? What do you want?”
“What do I want?” he echoed, and he smiled again, but with no humor. “Why, I want my wife. My final orders have come at last. It’s time for me to head out west.”
The world seemed to drop from beneath her. Her knees felt weak, as if she couldn’t possibly stand. She wouldn’t reach to him for support right now.
Her horse. She started down the steps past Jeremy, anxious to reach her mount. He watched her running toward her mare until she spooked her, and the animal raced off toward Cameron Hall.
Home! Christa thought, her eyes stinging with sudden tears. Blindly, she reached out in the horse’s wake.
He came up behind her, swinging her around, his arm about her in support. “Come on, we’ll take my horse.”
“I can’t go west,” she said tonelessly.
“We’ll see.”
She stumbled. He lifted her again, walking her around the side of the house to where his very well-trained cavalry horse awaited him. Her arms slipped around his neck, but she protested still. “I can’t leave. I did everything. I kept it standing. I planted crops myself. I fixed the roof. I shot at a man once! I—I—”
“You performed the ultimate sacrifice!” he said, peering down at her. “Alas! You married me!” He set her up on his mount. She looked down at him, moistening her lips. She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”
“Christa, you still don’t understand. It’s Jesse’s now.”
She looked up, hearing the rumble of a wagon arriving at last. Around the corner of the building she could just see Daniel and Callie arriving.
Her sister-in-law jumped down from the front of the flatbed they were using to haul large belongings. “Christa!”
She started to reply, but Jeremy looked up at her, putting a finger to his lips. She didn’t know why, but she obeyed his silent command.
Christa could see Callie on the steps, spinning around to meet Daniel as he walked up to meet her. “Daniel, the saddlebags are here on the porch, but Christa is nowhere to be seen.”
“Jeremy must have found her.”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
There was just a moment’s silence. Callie spoke again, softly, huskily. “Daniel, Kiernan and Jesse have the children. And we’re alone—”
“And Mrs. Callie Cameron,” Daniel finished. “Think of it! This is our threshold. Our very own threshold. It would be nicely fitting if I were to sweep you up into my arms and carry you over it and—”
“Oh, I like the ‘and’ part! Very much!” Callie whispered.
Christa could see them both—her brother, so tall, dark, and handsome, and Callie, beautiful with her rich red hair, slim figure, and beaming face. They’d waited so long for the war to end. They’d weathered everything that had happened since.
Christa closed her eyes. Suddenly, she heard Callie shrieking. Her eyes flew open. Jeremy was still just staring up at her. “He’s hurting her!” she blurted out.
“Oh, Jesu, Christa! She’s my sister. If he were hurting her, I’d have been in there with the speed of lightning. Don’t be a fool. She loves him! And some women do enjoy being intimate with their husbands.”
Crimson flooded her face now. Yes, she knew that Callie loved Daniel and Daniel loved Callie, and what a fool she had been! She knew, too, that her brother would never hurt Callie.
That fact was plainly evident in just seconds. They could hear Callie’s voice again. Very soft, very low, and very intimate, whispering her husband’s name.
“Daniel …”
The name was followed by a combination of sigh and laughter that gave no doubt as to the pleasure of her mood.
Jeremy was still staring at Christa. “Clearly,” he murmured dryly, “she is in no pain!”
“Quit!” she whispered down to him furiously. Her cheeks were still flushed and she was painfully embarrassed. They had no business being here, listening.
Jeremy leapt up on his horse behind her. His arms encircled her. “I wonder. Can you say my name like that?”
“Must you always make a joke of everything?”
“Sadly, my love, I was not joking.”
He nudged the horse quickly to take them away from the house—and from Callie and Daniel’s chance to be alone.
They had ridden for several minutes before he spoke to her again.
“So, Chri
sta, let’s see, you can’t go west. So which of your brothers are you going to grace with your presence in his home?”
“Stop it!” she whispered.
“Poor Christa! You worked for it all, you bled for it. And you married me for it. But it isn’t yours anymore.”
“Stop mocking me.”
“I’m not mocking you. I’m pointing out the truth.”
“I don’t know why you’re so concerned. I don’t know why you’re doing this. You don’t like me. You don’t like a single thing about me, and you can’t possibly want me with you.”
“There’s where you’re wrong, Christa. I admire your courage very much. And your strength. I think you’ll make an exceptional cavalry wife.”
Her head was pounding. Ah, there was something! He thought she was capable, at the very least! Just like an experienced field hand!
Within a matter of minutes, they had ridden the distance back to Cameron Hall.
Christa slipped down from his horse without his assistance. Her skirt caught on the saddle and he had to release it for her.
“Accept it, Christa. You’re coming with me.”
She tugged at her skirt, then looked up at him desperately. “Why? Because I might be useful? Just how much help can I be if—”
She broke off, lashes lowering, biting her lower lip.
“If you are expecting my child?” he asked softly. He leaned low, slipping her hem from his stirrup where it had snagged. “Well, there’s one reason right there. Every man wants a son, Christa.”
“Yes, and then I have callused hands and I know how to shoot and—”
“And at heart, Christa, you always were and always will be a pampered little belle!”
She gasped, jerking away. “Then—”
“Then there’s the reason that, although I very much hate to admit it, to add any more flattery to that defiant Rebel head of yours, I do find you very beautiful. Exceptionally so. And …”
“And?” she whispered, startled by his last words.
“And you’re my wife, and I’ve determined that you’ll accompany me.”
“I—I can’t!”
“But you will. So prepare yourself, Christa. Willing or no, my love, you’re riding west.”
And One Rode West Page 11