And One Rode West (6 page)

But she was careful with Jeremy McCauley. She had come to know a little about her sister-in-law’s brother. He had a certain quality about him that might make someone else want to call him a gentleman.

He was extremely well built, with arms like iron and a hard, muscled chest. He was quick, and could be ruthless. He had no patience with her, and wouldn’t even pretend to play any chivalrous games.

Not that she had really attempted to play any games with him. She’d tried to keep her distance from him.

He’d been fighting a war for a long time too.

And in an all-out battle with him, she wouldn’t win. He was accustomed to snapping out orders, and he was always quick to give them to her. He must have known damned well by now that she would never obey him. He wasn’t her brother! And most certainly wasn’t her—

Husband.

A deep, searing chill came sweeping through her and her knees went weak. She took the chair before Jesse’s
desk just as Jeremy sat himself, watching her with narrowed, speculative eyes as he poured himself a brandy.

“What?” he demanded in something that sounded like a growl.

She moistened her lips. She couldn’t do it. Not even for Cameron Hall.

She’d do anything for Cameron Hall.

“You’re trying to tell me that this has all been done legally? Or, at least, what you Yankees are calling legal these days?”

“Christa—”

“Someone hates either Jesse or Daniel. Probably Daniel—he was the loser here, right? Hates him enough to have gone through all kinds of machinations to burn this place to the ground.”

“Christa—”

“Is that it?”

“Yes, dammit, that’s it. So let’s try—”

She leaned forward. “Wait. I need one hundred and fifty dollars and the signature of someone connected with the hall who has sworn an oath to the Union. And whoever is doing this must know that Jesse is in Washington. Jesse could stop it, but he can’t get here in time. Someone knows that I’m alone here, and that I haven’t any Yankee relations nearby.”

“That’s about the gist of it,” Jeremy said. He tossed down the whole of his brandy, staring at her with his silver eyes. Then he sighed. “I’ll stay here, Christa. I’ll try to stop what’s happening, but somewhere along the line, one of your brothers made an enemy. A big enemy. I don’t know who. And I don’t rightly know what I can do, but I’ll try whatever I can.”

“You can sign the paper,” she said in a rush.

“Christa, I don’t own Cameron Hall. I don’t even have a real connection with it. Callie does, not me.”

“But you would, if—”

“If?”

Why did he have to stare at her the way that he was staring at her now? He was a Yankee to the core with that hard-edged face of his and those flashing eyes. And that voice that could sound like a whip-crack.

How the hell did she do this?

She stood suddenly, trying not to appear as nervous as she felt. She had to sound offhanded. As if it were certainly no major task she was asking of him.

She folded her hands before her and sighed in what she hoped was a very mature and very matter-of-fact manner. “We’ll have to be married,” she said. “Very, very quickly, of course.”

Maybe he would understand. It would just be something done on paper. It might be complicated to undo, but once they had saved the house, it could be done. Maybe, just maybe, he would understand, and make it easy for her.

“What?” he exploded, leaping to his feet and towering over her.

Then again, maybe he wouldn’t understand.

And he sure as hell wouldn’t make it easy for her.

It didn’t matter. He was going to have to do it. And she was going to have to convince him.

“Jeremy, it’s necessary.”

He came closer. She had to lift her chin and lean her head back to attempt to stare him down.

She didn’t like the disadvantage.

Her fingers curled around her glass and she tried to keep her gaze level with his. “Oh, you don’t have to take it seriously. We can do something about it later, I’m sure. But we’ll have to be married, and fast.”

He sank down into the chair behind Jesse’s desk again, a dark auburn brow arched high. “Oh, you think so, do you, Miss Cameron?” he demanded.

“Yes.”

His brow arched still further as he stared at her incredulously. “Just like that?” he said softly.

“It’s not such a big thing—”

His eyes narrowed sharply. She had come too close to him. He reached out, plucking the brandy glass from her hand, setting it on the desk. Then his fingers were suddenly wound around her wrist, and she was afraid of the strength in them, and afraid to fight him. Before she knew it she had been pulled down on her knees before him. “It’s not such a big thing, eh, Miss Cameron? Ah, no, not for you perhaps. Liam McCloskey is lying dead in a battlefield and you don’t give two figs for any other man living or dead.”

She tried to free herself. “That’s not true!” she cried out. “I care! I care about many people. I love my brothers—”

“And you love a hunk of bricks! Brick and mortar and glass and wood!”

She managed to jerk her hand free, lowering her head. “You don’t understand! It’s not a pile of brick! It’s my family, it’s history, it’s—it’s been here for centuries! It’s not just a house!”

For a moment he didn’t say anything. Then he ordered her, “Look at me, Christa!”

She did so. She wanted to be defiant. Maybe that would be the wrong ploy. In a way, Jeremy knew her well. He knew the gracious games that she could play, but he also always seemed to know what was in her heart.

“Christa, no.”

“Damn you!”

She wanted to hurt him. To scratch and strike out and hurt him. He was the conqueror. She had already lost, and she was about to lose more.

Don’t fight him! she warned herself. Play it softly, softly!

“Please!” she whispered, and she tried to give him a beseeching look.

“Don’t bat your lashes at me, Christa. I know you hate the very sight of me,” he said flatly.

Anger flashed through her eyes, making them brilliantly blue. “Then do it for your sister! Do it for your niece and your nephew. Do it because you goddamned filthy Yankees owe us something for this war!”

“Ah, with such a declaration of undying love and devotion, how could I possibly refuse you!” he retorted, a hard curve to his lip.

“Then you’ll do it?”

“I already said no!”

“Oh!” she cried out. She freed her hand. She swung it at him with all her strength.

But he caught her wrist. “Christa! You have to stop fighting. You have to worry about—”

“I don’t care! I don’t care about anything. There won’t be anything left to care about.”

“Christa—”

His voice had changed. Just a little bit. She looked up into his eyes. They were pure silver now. Burning harshly within the handsome planes of his face.

“Christa, you hate me! And I must admit, you are not on the top of the list of my favorite Rebel women! You can’t marry me.”

“I’d marry that disgusting fur-face fleabag old Bobby-boy to save this place.”

“You can’t mean that!” he told her incredulously.

“I don’t know what I mean! All I know is that I can’t let it go!”

He pushed her away from him, furious. “It’s a pile of bricks!” he roared.

Tears touched her eyes again, glazing them. “I’d do anything.”

Before she knew it he was suddenly up again, his hands on hers as he wrenched her forcefully up before him. His eyes touched her like fire. “Anything, Christa?” he said. “Anything? What you’re asking me
to do is a mockery. So
you
had best mean it. You would do anything to save this place. You’d marry that white trash. You’d marry
me
.”

She opened her eyes wide, gasping. “You mean—you’ll do it?” She couldn’t believe it. He seemed angrier than ever with her.

And furious with himself.

“Miss Cameron, you are quite something, you know. Marriage doesn’t mean a damn thing to you. You don’t, in the least, mind selling your own soul for Cameron Hall. But what of mine? What if I were in love with someone?”

She grit her teeth, meeting his eyes. She felt a trembling inside of her. It was quite possible. He was a very handsome man. She wasn’t blind and she wasn’t stupid. He was tall, trim-hipped, broad-shouldered, lean, and muscular. His face was both ruggedly masculine and classically cast, with high cheekbones, startling eyes, and striking, deep russet, high-arched brows. He was a war hero. There might well be a woman waiting for him in the North.

“Are you in love with someone else?” she said.

“Would you really give a damn, Christa?”

She was afraid of his answer. “No!” she cried. “I care that your kind are threatening to tear this place down when I’ve worked my fingers to the bone for it, when it’s all that I have left …” Her voice trailed away. “Damn you, Jeremy! Will you do it, or not?”

He stared at her long and hard. She felt the sizzling heat of his eyes rip into her, and then he turned away from her as if he were more furious still. He was going to refuse her! His back was as stiff as steel.

“You have sold both our souls, Miss Cameron. But yes, I’ll do it. And we’d best hurry. We’ve just hours left before sundown and Richmond is a long hard ride from here.”

“I would ride to hell!” she said.

He mocked her with a sweeping bow. “Perhaps, Miss Cameron, it is exactly where you are going!”

“Don’t threaten me, Jeremy,” she told him, lifting her chin, alarmed at the trembling that had begun within her.

“Don’t worry, Christa, I would not dream of bothering with a threat,” he responded quickly, silver eyes flashing, his fingers tightening upon her arms until she was afraid she would cry out. “To say that you have cast us into hell, my love,” he murmured, his voice low and harsh, “is most assuredly not a threat.”

“Then—”

“It’s a promise. And I vow that I will keep it!”

Three

To Christa, it seemed the strangest wedding imaginable. The Episcopal priest agreed to marry them when the case was truthfully put before him. They were both obliged to swear that they meant to uphold the sanctity of their union before God. The words were spoken, and two choirboys witnessed them.

She had imagined once that when she did marry she’d be dressed in white, not in the cotton day dress she’d been wearing to dig in the garden. She’d have curled her hair. She’d have been surrounded by her family and friends.

She would have been marrying a man who loved her, and a man she loved deeply in return.

But the white gown had been dyed black and it was now a mourning dress. Her family was nowhere near, thus the forced wedding. Her friends, or very many of them, lay dead in battlefields and graveyards across the country.

The man she had loved lay buried along with the rest of the South.

She shivered, then mentally braced herself. She glanced at Jeremy, standing beside her. Once committed to her cause, he had done very well. He had explained the expediency of their need to the priest.
Christa wondered what thoughts were passing through his mind. He looked so harsh beside her. What memories came to him as he agreed to this arrangement?

But he didn’t mean it, she was certain. It was just to save the house. Once that was done, they could go their separate ways.

She looked around. They were being married in an empty church on the outskirts of Williamsburg. Cannonball fragments were lodged in the outer brick of the church. Some of the stained-glass windows were still cracked and broken from shots.

Christa barely heard the priest’s words as he droned on and on. She heard just bits and pieces of the ceremony. Love, honor, and obey. She was supposed to vow to do so.

She would have agreed to anything.

She looked up during the ceremony and saw the large crucifix hanging from the altar.

Forgive me, God! she cried inwardly. She had to look away. God had to understand. He had let this happen.

He had let the Yankees win the war.

She heard Jeremy’s vows. Surprisingly, his voice was strong and level. Perhaps it was not so surprising. His voice was laced with his anger. He had agreed to help her. But he was furious with her and himself for having done so. He was going to make her pay somehow for this, she knew. She tossed her hair back. She didn’t care. She’d fight him from now until eternity, just as soon as her home was safe.