He couldn’t decide which was going to be worse.
In a whirlwind, Claire appeared at his bedside. “Hurry,” she said. She wore a white nightgown and her hair swirled around her.
Swallowing a groan, he swung his leg around to the side of the bed. His head spun with dizziness.
“Come,” she urged, tugging on his sleeve.
Distracted by her angelic appearance, he stood up, swayed, and promptly passed out.
Jeffrey heard men walking above him. The wooden floor creaked beneath their heavy boots. Breathing in the damp earth, he swallowed a sneeze.
He wasn’t sure exactly where he was, except that he was beneath the floor. The house was built on piers and beams and someone had walled in a section to create a makeshift cellar.
How he got here was a bit hazy. He only remembered Claire urging him to drop through the hole in the floor.
Claire’s voice mingled with the soldier’s. She sounded calm and confident. If the soldiers threatened her, he was prepared to reveal his hiding place beneath the floor.
Even now, he struggled to discern whether the voices came from Yankees or Rebels.
“Absolutely not!” Claire’s voice rang out, clearly reaching him.
His heart lodged in his throat. What did they want with her? Were they about to harm her? He would not allow it. Poised to leap through the trap door to her rescue, he stood, one hand raised toward the latch.
Then she laughed. Laughed? And they joined her, their laughter a bit bawdy for his taste. Why would she be laughing with the soldiers?
Slowly, he lowered his hand, forcing his heartbeat to return to normal. Now was not the time to barge in on them.
Their footsteps retreated and he waited. Waited for the front door to slam closed behind them.
He continued to wait. The air grew quickly damp. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now it was damp… and cold. He rubbed his arms and blew warm breath on his hands. After stomping his feet, he leaned against the wall and ventured to study his surroundings, but darkness prevented any scrutiny.
Something scurried in the shadows. A rat perhaps? Or maybe something more sinister. A snake? If he was locked down here with a snake, he may as well go ahead and surrender to the soldiers now. Any fate would be better than meeting up with a snake.
He strained to hear some sound from above. All was quiet. Why didn’t someone… Claire or Grandpa come and rescue him from the dank, dark hole in the ground?
Reaching up, he tried the latch, determined to get out of here. But it seemed someone had made sure it could only be opened from inside the house.
Damn.
Truly, this was worse than when he’d been tossed into the Mississippi River when the steamboat exploded. At least then he’d been able to make his way ashore. Now he was trapped. He didn’t dare call out. That would be just insane. He may get to that point if a snake appeared, but he wasn’t to that point yet.
Taking a deep breath, he resolved to wait. He closed his eyes, but only for a second. Straining to see in the unrelenting darkness was better than not being able to see at all.
Seconds passed. Minutes. How long must he wait?
He began to sweat. His knees grew weak. He wasn’t well.
Giving in, he melted down to the cold, earthen floor. The dampness seeped through his britches. But he continued to sweat.
His eyes drooped, but he strained to keep them open. Fought the heaviness.
And lost the battle.
Curled on the dark, damp earth, with unknown rodents scurrying around him, he slept.
“Wake up! Jeffrey, you have to wake up.” Claire heard the desperation in her own voice as she shook him.
His skin burned from fever. He had not been well enough to be put here under the house. It was worse than any prison she could imagine.
She’d had no choice, she reminded herself. The soldiers had stayed inside the house all day and only now, had she been able to risk opening the door beneath the trunk in Grandpa’s closet. They had rested, eaten, and rested some more. Finally, after nightfall, they settled in behind the house and allowed her to lock her door.
“Oh God, Jeffrey, please wake up.” There was no way she could get him back into the house if he didn’t wake up. He didn’t seem like such a large man, but gracious, he was heavy.
She couldn’t ask Grandpa to help. He was in no shape. In fact, even now, he slept, exhausted from the ordeal with the soldiers. What could she do?
Bounding up the ladder into the house, she lit a candle and placed it near the opening. Then she retrieved the blankets off of Jeffrey’s bed and brought them under the house with her. She retrieved the candle and secured it in the dirt at the edge of the cellar.
She wrapped the blankets around him. Then felt his head again. The fever raged.
She shivered. If she stayed here, she would catch her death. But she wouldn’t leave him. Desperate, she crawled beneath the blankets with him, snuggling up against him.
She put her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest.
His skin was hot against hers, even through his cotton shirt. She closed her eyes and her breathing matched his—slow and steady.
The stress of the day caught up with her and she began to drift into sleep. Shifting closer to him, they were entwined, head to toe. His arms were around her. She was warm… and safe. She slept. A dreamless sleep. His breathing lulled her into a much needed rest.
She woke, disoriented, not sure where or when she was. It was pitch dark – she could see nothing. Her hip ached against the hardness of what could only be the floor. How had she ended up sleeping on the hard floor instead of her soft feather bed?
She felt someone’s breath against her cheek and froze. Her world careened and it all came back to her in a rush.
The candle had gone out, but the smell of damp earth was unmistakable. She was on the floor beneath the house, of all things, snuggled beneath blankets, pressed against… Jeffrey.
The heat of embarrassment flushed over her face. She was so close to him, her body pressed against him. His arms were like a steel band across her back.
He was not asleep. At least if he slept, he feigned wakefulness.
He shifted slightly, until their cheeks were pressed against each other. Her mouth parted a little, her breathing hitched. She was aware of him in every corner of her body. She lay frozen, unable to move. She kept her eyes closed.
This physical reaction to him was intense… and unexpected.
He shifted again, ever so subtly, and his lips pressed against the corner of her mouth. Her heart tripped in her chest.
It was nearly her undoing.
She longed to shift that fraction of an inch that would press her lips against his. She longed to feel his lips against hers. She longed for something she couldn’t name. Something that was wrapped up in the essence of Jeffrey—this man she just met.
He shifted, but shifted the wrong way. He moved back that fraction of an inch and she sighed.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“I, um… I couldn’t wake you.”
He was silent. Although she opened her eyes, she couldn’t see him in the darkness.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his breath warm against her cheek.
“It’s all right,” she whispered.
He moved his hand up and put his fingertips against her cheek. Her lips parted.
He must have inched closer, because she could feel his breath against her lips.
As he shifted closer, her eyes drifted closed and she held her breath.
His lips touched hers, light as a feather. So light, she must have imagined it. She shifted into him, increasing the pressure minutely.
Then she felt him break the contact.
“We have to get you out of here,” he said, tossing back the blankets and getting to his feet. Finding her hands in the darkness, he pulled her to her feet.
Sighing, she allowed him to help her up the ladder.
Grandpa must have fallen asleep without realizing the two of them slept under the floor. The house was dark and quiet.
She could barely keep herself moving. Her muscles ached with exhaustion. Ignoring the heaviness in her eyes, she stoked the fire in the wood stove and brought a clean blanket to wrap about Jeffrey. His eyes were glassy from the fever which he denied having.
“You’re still with a fever,” she said, as she tucked the blanket around him. The warmth from the fire filled the room.
“I’m all right,” he insisted, though his words were a little slurred.
After pressing a cup of hot coffee into his hands, she stepped back, pulled a chair next to him, and sat down. As she watched, he sipped the coffee.
Then his eyes drooped closed, reflecting the way she felt. Shoring up her strength, she took the mug from his hands, and set it aside.
She sat back down and studied him, his new beard, his smooth skin, his dark, wavy hair…
He began to snore lightly.
She smiled. Smiled at the irony that she would know that a man snored in his sleep. When she hadn’t slept with him.
Heat crept up her cheeks as she imagined what it would be like to lie next to him in bed, wrapped in those strong arms. Those arms that had held her in the cellar.
As she studied him, she began to shiver. Pressing a hand to the back of her neck, her fingertips encountered the slipperiness of sweat. She touched her own forehead and the heat burned her skin.
She, too, burned with fever?
Going to him, she pulled on his arms. She had to get him back in bed so she, too, could rest.
She pulled hard, but he merely shifted, his snoring paused, then began again.
“Jeffrey, wake up. I have to get you to bed,” she said, her face flushing. Was it the words or the fever? He stood up, took one step, then slowly melted to the floor.
Her strength giving out, she kneeled on the floor next to him, resting her arms on his knees. Her head felt heavy. She put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest.
Chapter Six
Claire woke with candlelight in her eyes, blinding her. Her muscles ached with fatigue, as though spent. She shifted her head, moving from the blinding light. And her gaze lit on Jeffrey sprawled in the chair next to her bed.
A new beard shadowed his face. A lock of black hair fell across his forehead. He slept, his mouth slightly open. Romeo, one paw across his nose, lounged on the floor at his feet.
Her thoughts swirled in confusion. Why was she in the bed with him at her side? He was the injured one and she tended him. She closed her eyes, but her mind refused to make sense of their situation.
He stirred and his eyes flew open, locking onto hers. A quick intake of breath as she was lost in those deep blue pools. Intense. God, but he was handsome. She swallowed thickly.
“Claire?” his voice was husky, uncertain.
She merely looked at him.
His feet slammed against the floor as he moved toward her. He placed a hand on her forehead. “How do you feel?”
“Well, I guess.”
His brow furrowed as he studied her.
“Why am I here?” she asked. “And why are you up?”
His lips tilted at the corners. “One of us had to be out of the bed.”
Putting her hands over her face, she looked away from him.
He laughed, then sobered. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But if I hadn’t been awake, you might have died.”
“How long?” she began. Grandpa!
“Since yesterday... when we came out of the basement.”
She glanced at the window. Darkness. It had been well over twenty-four hours. “Grandpa?” she choked out, her heart clutching with fear. Had Jeffrey even thought to check on him?
“He’s well. We just finished supper.”
She exhaled, her breath blowing hair that had fallen over her cheek. “Thank you.”
He tilted his head and studied her. “You thought I would forget about him.”
She shook her head, lowering her eyes. “Of course not.”
Chuckling, he reached over, placed a hand over hers. Her breath hitched. Bringing her hand to his lips, his lips soft and gentle on the backs of her fingers.
Her eyes met his blue ones and she held her breath.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
Her thoughts swirled, lost in emotion. She should say something. Thank you. You’re beautiful, too. I love you.
She inhaled sharply. No! She didn’t love him. She hardly knew him. This Jeffrey Couvion. He could be a scoundrel!
She pulled her hand away, ignoring his look of confusion. “I should go to Grandpa. See if he needs anything.”
He frowned. “I’m not sure you should be up. I can bring him here.”
Claire started to protest, but even the thought of moving her muscles enough to get out of bed was more than she could muster. “All right,” she said.
However, instead of leaving, he twisted his fingers with hers. His eyes locked on hers, he squeezed her hand as though he would never let go.
She squeezed back and smiled at him, biting her lip.
A blast of cannon fire shook the house, rattling the windows.
Claire inhaled sharply. “The Yankees! They’re back.”
Jeffrey glanced toward the window. “Could be. Could be Southerners.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” he asked, turning back to study her.
“Southerners aren’t stupid enough to fire at night.”
“You could be right,” he said.
“If they can’t see us, they might fire on the house.”
“I’ll go see,” Jeffrey said.
“You can’t go out there!”
“Like you said, if they don’t know we’re here, they might hit us.”
“It’s not safe.”
He kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be back,” he said.
Jeffrey took the gun from the nightstand and slipped out the door into the cool darkness. Leaving Claire proved to be more difficult than he had expected. It’s the only way to protect her.
The thunder of cannons pierced the night air. Why were they firing at night?
His heart full of trepidation, he moved toward the thunder, dashing behind the cover of trees.
He gulped in ragged breaths of air. His recovery had left him unprepared for this physical onslaught.
Peering into the darkness from behind the cover of an oak tree, he froze at the prick of a bayonet in the small of his back.
“Who is it?” someone asked.
“How should I know?”
Jeffrey’s mind went into confusion. It couldn’t be! He attempted to turn his head to see behind him.
“Cut it out, Reb!” One of the men poked him again with the bayonet.
“Marvin? Is that you?” Jeffrey asked.
“Jeffrey?” The man poked him again.
“Hey, cut it out!” Jeffrey called.
“Don’t poke at Jeffrey,” Joseph demanded.
“Joseph? I thought you were dead.”
Joseph laughed. “Not me.”
“How do we know it’s him?” Marvin asked.
“If you’d stop poking me, I’d turn around.”
Joseph punched Marvin against the shoulder. Jeffrey turned around and squinted through the darkness at his two friends. “What are you two idiots doing out here?”
“Where have you been?”
“I was shot."
Marvin and Joseph looked at each other, then back at Jeffrey.
“Who shot you?” Joseph asked.
“Not me,” Marvin commented, scratching the back of his head.
Jeffrey rubbed his hand over his eyes. “It wasn’t either one of you. It was an old man.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No, I did not kill him,” Jeffrey said, glaring at Joseph.
“Well, why not?”
“Mostly because it was an a
ccident. And because he and his daughter saved my life.”
Marvin shifted, staring blankly at Jeffrey, then he turned to Joseph. “He’s addled.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen it before.”
“I’m not addled.”
“What do we do with him?”
“How should I know?”
Jeffrey glared at his two Yankee friends.
“I guess we can’t just leave him here… can we?”
Joseph shrugged. He opened his mouth, but cannon fire stopped him from making whatever comment he was about to make.
“At night? What’s wrong with these people?” Jeffrey clutched his gun.
Marvin grabbed his arm. “Come on,” he demanded, pulling Jeffrey behind him. Joseph followed.
“Where are you taking me?” Jeffrey asked, keeping his voice low. His stomach clutched at the idea of being taken behind enemy lines. An image of Claire flashed in his mind.
“Just keep it down,” Marvin suggested.
“Why aren’t you with your regiment?” Jeffrey asked.
“We had a new assignment,” Joseph answered.
“Shut up,” Marvin suggested.
“Is it a secret?” Jeffrey asked.
“Only if you’re a Rebel,” Joseph said, with a laugh.
Jeffrey’s hair on the back of his head tingled. For an instant, he thought, I’m a Rebel. Then he caught himself. I fight for the North. That image of Claire once again flashed before him. He held his silence.
They trudged through the murky swamp, heading west. “Where are we headed?” Jeffrey asked again.
“Back to camp.”
“I thought camp was that way.” Jeffrey indicated the east with a nod of his head.
“You’ve been away too long.”
“Not long enough,” Jeffrey murmured.
They trudged through the mud, past debris left by soldiers of one side or the other. They trudged along in silence. Jeffrey’s mind raced. Did he betray Claire by being here with the Yankees? The ones who set out to destroy her home and her way of life? His feet lagged heavy as he walked further away from her. He only set out to find out what was going on. Not to leave her.
I promise I won’t be long.
I wish you wouldn’t go.
It’s the only way to know.
Please be safe…
Hearts Under Fire Page 5