He had to catch her. If the guards got to her first, and she didn’t surrender immediately, she could be shot. Shot in the back, just like Captain John Wright. Was this what had happened to him? Had he bolted in the night, only to die moments later with a bullet in his back?
He couldn’t allow anyone else to catch her, and he couldn’t let her get away. Lily could disappear anywhere in the world. He might never find her if she escaped now. It would take a dozen lifetimes to search the earth for Lily.
His thigh felt as if it might collapse beneath him, but Quint willed it, with gritted teeth, to withstand this test. He had to catch Lily.
The cold air hurt Lily’s chest as she ran, but she never slowed her flight. She could see only a few feet ahead of her, but that was all right. That meant the soldiers following her couldn’t see either. But she could hear them. And that meant they could hear her. As far as she could tell, only one soldier was close. One of her guards, no doubt. They were the only ones who had been near enough to be so close on her tail. Quint couldn’t possibly run, not with his injured leg.
She ran and ran, listening to her pursuer. She could only hear one now, and he seemed to be moving closer. Damned persistent, that one. She was tiring, and that meant he had to be, too. But she kept running; she would run all night if she had to, to get away from the Yankees. And from Quintin Tyler. Quint, most of all.
The soldier hunted her obstinately. He was closing in on her slowly. Lily could hear his breathing, labored and rasping, and still he came.
And then she knew it was Quint. Impossible, but somehow she knew. In spite of his injury, in spite of his pain, he pursued her relentlessly. That knowledge only inspired her to move faster, to keep going. Quint was not going to give up easily. He was as competitive as she, and as accustomed to winning. She would never give in to him, never give up.
They might have run all night, but the toe of Lily’s boot hit the exposed root of on old tree, and she tumbled to the ground with a startled cry, landing in the dirt face first, the dead leaves crunching beneath her body. Before she could rise, Quint was on top of her, pouncing on her prone form and pressing her harder into the ground.
“Get off me!” she demanded, with as much dignity as she could muster.
For several moments, her only answer was his raspy panting against her ear. When he finally spoke, his voice was harsh and unforgiving. “Like hell I will. I’m not up to chasing you any farther, woman, so you’ll stay right where you are for the moment.”
How had he been able to keep up with her for as long as he had? She knew his leg, while much better, was far from strong. There was pain in his uneven breathing.
“You’re crushing me!” she insisted, spitting a broken dead leaf from her lips.
Once again, Quint was slow in answering her. “Good,” he whispered. “Did you really think I would let you run away from me?”
“Why do you care?” Lily felt dangerously close to tears again, and that angered her more than anything else. She was not a sentimental fool, not over a man! She felt as if he were smothering her, truly crushing her with his weight. In spite of the chilly night air, he was hot, and he transferred his heat to her. It melted through the back of her dress, through her skin, burning her very soul.
“I do care, Lily.” Quint laid his lips against the tender skin beneath her ear, at the back of her neck. “You must believe me.”
Lily scoffed, maintaining her dignity even in such a position. “Believe you? Never. You’re nothing but a lying, spineless bounder, with the morals of a snake and the honor of a jackass. I hate you. I hate the day I met you.” She had intended to anger Quint, but he remained calm as she herself became more and more incensed. His breathing had slowed, but he took none of his weight off her.
“Let me go,” she whispered. In the near distance she heard other soldiers approaching. “Please, Quint. If you ever cared for me…. ”
“Over here!” Quint shouted, and in moments they were surrounded. When Lily tried fruitlessly to beat Quint with hands that flailed wildly backwards, he grabbed them and pinned her wrists to the ground.
Flanked by four winded soldiers, Quint rolled off her. He kept her wrists pinned to the ground for a moment, then he yanked her into a sitting position so that she faced him.
“Tie her wrists and ankles,” he ordered coldly.
“But Lieutenant, she has to walk…. ”
“I’ll carry her.”
The four soldiers looked at one another in disbelief. Quint saw their skeptical glances out of the corner of his eye. They didn’t expect him to be able to carry Lily back to camp in his condition. But he would have to, somehow.
“Sir, with the five of us to escort her —”
“Do it!” It was an order, clear and simple and barked with authority, and the soldiers did as they were told.
But not easily. Lily was furious, and she kicked and clawed as the soldiers tied her. Quint released her only when she was in their hands and unable to escape.
“I hate you!” she spat at him. He could barely see her face in the patchy moonlight that found its way through the leaves.
“Don’t be redundant, Lily,” Quint said coolly. “You already said that.” His lazy voice gave away none of his emotions. How was he ever going to get through this? Lily was a spirited woman and not, from what he’d seen, particularly forgiving. If her hate was as volatile as her love, he would never win her back.
Without voicing any of his reservations, he threw Lily, bound at the wrists and ankles, over his shoulder. Her head hung behind his back, and she beat her fists against his spine. He’d only taken half a dozen steps before he tossed her forward, catching her and setting her on her feet half a second before she would have fallen.
His thigh ached, his chest ached, and in spite of the cool air, he was sweating from the exertion of chasing Lily.
“If you hit me one more time, I’ll stop… find a sturdy limb… and truss you to it like a roasting pig.” There was no kindness in his voice this time. No hint that he had told her moments earlier that he cared for her. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Lily said, gritting her teeth as he tossed her again over her shoulder. Her single word was filled with the knowledge of her defeat, and she lay motionlessly against Quint. He held her by the crook of her knees, and she hung over his shoulder like a rag doll.
She could feel the unevenness of his step, the way he struggled with her weight, but he never slowed his step or mentioned handing her over to one of the other soldiers. He’d won again, and Lily felt absolutely humiliated. She wouldn’t anger him, not now, but she mouthed the words she longed to scream. I hate you.
Quint sighed deeply. “I know.”
Eighteen
The trek back to camp was a long and laborious one. And quiet. No one spoke. There was only the rasp of Quint’s ragged breath and the shuffling of five sets of footsteps in the dirt and leaves. Now and again, Lily would lift her head and look around her. The soldiers flanked Quint on four sides and watched him with a respectful awe. Carrying her back to camp would have been a chore for any of them, but it should have been impossible for Quintin Tyler.
Lily dismissed his response to her unspoken avowal of hatred. Perhaps he had been thinking of something else, or perhaps he had felt her breath against his back and realized those were the only words she would have for him. Perhaps she had actually spoken aloud.
No. She had mouthed the words. He had known what she was thinking. Was that really so strange? Was it any stranger than her realization that Quint was the soldier chasing her? God, had they forged a bond so deep so quickly?
They entered a circle of light, leaving the darkness of the forest behind. Quint’s breathing was coming hard and broken, and he tossed her roughly forward as he set her on her feet, always careful to keep a firm grip on her. His hand on her wrists or grasping her arm… she was never free of his touch.
Lily glanced up into Lieutenant Hanson’s smugly triumphant face.
/> “You were correct, Lieutenant Hanson,” Quint said hoarsely. “Miss Radford cannot be trusted. I agree that she should be bound at all times.”
Hanson smiled complacently. “After all, it’s just for one more day. After that, she’s none of our concern. Correct?”
“Correct,” Quint agreed shortly. “I don’t believe I’ll feel safe tonight with nothing more than a length of rope between Miss Radford and freedom. You do have shackles?”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Lily had to crane her neck to get a good look at Quint’s face. He was pale—almost green—and he was deadly serious.
They were shackled together, at Quint’s insistence. His left wrist to her right. His left ankle to her right. Hanson gave Lily an arrogant grin as he watched the proceedings. Of course, this was a victory for him, over her and over Quint as well. She’d proven herself untrustworthy, as he’d claimed her to be.
Quint remained quiet, and after one look into his thunderous black eyes, Lily turned her face away from him. She had more right to be angry than he did, caught by a bloody Yankee spy with a bad leg. He could have allowed her to escape. He could have let her go. But no. He’d hunted her down and brought her back in humiliation, and now he dragged her toward a tent without so much as a backward glance, limping as badly as he had when she’d first met him.
Quint lifted the tent flap and allowed her to precede him. She did so ungraciously, jerking at the chain that bound them together. There was barely enough room in the tent for the two of them to stand in the center, face to face.
Inside the tent there was so little light that Lily could see nothing but a shadow where Quint’s face should be. That was good. She would be more effective opposing him if she didn’t have to look at his face.
“Lie down, Lily,” Quint ordered sharply.
Lily placed her left hand on her hip, in what she hoped was a defiant stance. “I will not. This was a preposterous idea. Lieutenant Tyler. I don’t know what you were thinking —”
“If you don’t lie down, I’ll fall down,” Quint said slowly. “If I fall on top of you, that’s where I’ll stay all night.”
“Is it that bad?” Lily asked, instantly regretting the soft tone she used. She didn’t care about his bloody leg!
“Yes, thanks to you.”
They lowered themselves together, slowly, to two bedrolls that had been laid out side by side. The breath that Quint released when he was finally flat on his back told her how badly his leg hurt. She pushed away every bit of sympathy that welled to the surface.
“Why didn’t you just let me go?” Lily asked desperately. “Is it really so important that I make it to Washington? Will Captain Sherwood really be such a feather in your cap?”
Quint turned his head to look at her. He was so close, and on any other night she would have expected him to reach out and touch her, to kiss her or to caress her cheek with his long fingers. But not now. He kept his hands to himself and moved no closer.
“No,” he barked. “You risked your life by running, Lily. That was damned stupid.” Then Quint turned away from her and closed his eyes.
Lily shut her eyes tight and willed sleep to come. Beside her, Quint breathed deeply and evenly. His exhausted body had found the rest it needed, pulling him inexorably downward soon after he had laid his head on the blanket. Outside the tent, the soldiers slept or kept watch. She heard their snores and their muffled footsteps, an occasional whisper from one sentry to another.
The shackles that bound Lily to Quint chafed at her, physically and mentally. Her predicament was as confining as if she’d been locked in a small room with no window. Had it been just two days ago that she would have welcomed such closeness with him, even if it meant being chained to the man? Lily turned her head to the side, abandoning all hope of ever finding peace again.
Her eyes rested on Quint’s profile, so soft and dreamlike in the dark. In sleep he looked more angel than devil, though she knew there was nothing angelic in his soul. Deception and treachery were the trademarks of a demon, not a saint.
A nagging voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she had been less than honest with Quintin Tyler at one time. With the entire population of Nassau, in fact. She comforted herself with the knowledge that she had not enjoyed lying to him. Had hated it.
Tired of watching him sleep, Lily lifted her hand and rattled the short chain that bound her to Quint. The clank of the heavy links was muffled inside the confines of the tent, and Lily smiled with smug satisfaction as Quint’s hand tensed and shuddered, and a frown marred his perfection. The once relaxed rhythms of his breathing turned ragged and uneven, and to aggravate him further, Lily lifted her hand once again and rattled the heavy chain.
Quint turned his head to one side, so that he was looking away from her. She should have been relieved, but somehow she was disappointed.
With the grace of a feline, Lily rolled up onto one elbow. Was he awake? She smiled at the soft noises that reached her ears, muffled bits and pieces that came from Quint’s mouth. He was talking in his sleep.
Careful not to rattle the chains again, Lily edged toward Quint. She wondered, as she crept closer to his averted face, if he was dreaming about her as he muttered unintelligibly in his sleep. It would only be fair. She expected he would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.
Lily laid her left palm, the free one, beside Quint’s head, and held herself suspended over his chest as she watched his face and attempted to make sense of the words he mumbled. Her smile vanished when she saw his face. A frown creased his brow and he seemed to be fighting the very demons she accused of possessing him. His mouth moved, but she could make no sense of the words that escaped in a harsh whisper. Determined, she lowered her head. Her hair brushed his face as her ear came close to his mouth.
“Jonah.”
It was the only word she could make out. A man’s name? Who was this Jonah who haunted Quint?
In spite of her intentions, Lily felt herself softening towards the man beneath her. He had betrayed her, but he was no monster. He was a man—a man who had nightmares and laughed and made love to her until she was certain the stroking of their bodies would start a fire that could consume the entire world.
The woman in Lily wanted to comfort him, to ease his pain. He was asleep. He would never know that she had relaxed her resolve to hate him. Just for one night.
Lily lowered herself so that her head rested against his chest. Her hand caressed his face, brushing back the errant strand of hair that fell across his forehead. His reaction was almost immediate. His frown disappeared, and his frantic breathing slowed gradually. Lily wound the fingers of her shackled hand through his, afraid to admit to herself how comforting the touch of his hand on hers was, how much she needed the warmth of his body against hers.
Quint’s arm moved sluggishly but surely until it was resting against her back. The weight of his arm pressed her closer to him, the warmth penetrating her icy armor.
“It’s all right, my love,” Lily whispered into his chest, amazed at how quickly her plan to disturb his irritatingly sound sleep had turned into an urge to comfort him. What would it matter if she spent one last night sleeping in his arms?
The sleep that had eluded her came quickly, surrounding her with a safe and warm cocoon that nearly swallowed her whole. Her last conscious and disturbing thought was that she would never again know the contented warmth that came from sleeping beside the man she loved.
For a moment, Quint almost forgot where he was. His fingers were wound through Lily’s soft curls as she slept on top of him, her head over his heart, and exhaled her warm breath onto him. One of her slender hands was resting against his neck, and the other lay in his. It was when he tried to lift that hand to his lips that the memories came flooding back. Memories jarred by the clank of the shackles that joined them, and by the pain in his thigh.
He didn’t move, afraid that he might wake her and ruin this almost perfect moment. Almost. If the moment had been truly pe
rfect, he could have awakened Lily with a kiss and made love to her languidly, bringing her to full consciousness in a leisurely fashion.
Today was the day he would help deliver his wife into the hands of a warden who would lock her up. Lily cherished her freedom. She would never forgive him for his part in her capture, even if he did eventually manage to get her out of the federal prison.
And could he blame her? He had never been a particularly forgiving person himself. If she was leading him right now to a Confederate prison, would he understand?
No.
Would he still love her?
Yes.
Quint pulled her up, bringing her face to his. He dragged her sleep-warmed body across his so slowly that it was almost painful, a sweet torture he allowed himself. Lily moaned softly, licking her lips as they neared his, her still closed eyes fluttering delicately.
“Good morning, my love,” she murmured faintly, lost in the memories of mornings he had awakened her just so, with wandering hands and anxious lips.
Quint finally held her face above his, and pressed his mouth against hers. It was a tentative kiss, tender and sweet, and she parted her lips slightly, sighing contentedly.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Quint whispered, and that was his mistake.
It was the sound of his voice that brought Lily to instant awareness, and she jerked back from his chest with startling clarity in her eyes.
“How dare you?” Lily asked coldly, smoothing frenzied hair away from her face with her one free hand.
Quint couldn’t help but smile at her. Her eyes sparkled with anger and confusion, and her cheeks colored enchantingly. Her lips were pink and moist, and her skirts were twisted around her thighs. She was as beautiful as always.
“I’m not the one who couldn’t stay on my side of the tent,” he said calmly, making no move to sit up.
Lily pursed her lips. “I can’t help it if I move around a lot in my sleep. If I ended up on top of you—well, that was entirely accidental.” She tried to forget her tender feelings of the night before, the empathy that had driven her to try to comfort him. She didn’t care, in the light of morning, what demons haunted his dreams.
In Enemy Hands Page 19