Kary, Elizabeth (20 page)

If
the stories her grandfather had told her were true, the marriage between Horace
Pennington and Althea Mattingly was indeed based in love. Because the
Mattinglys, an old plantation family, had refused to consider a trader, a
Northerner, a humble doctor's son, as worthy of Althea's consideration, Horace
and Althea had eloped after knowing each other for a very short time. But when
Leigh's parents had returned to the Mattingly plantation from a six-month-long
honeymoon in Europe, Althea had already been great with child, and her family
had been forced to be more accepting. If they had not welcomed the young St.
Louis businessman into their midst, they had at least instilled a sense of the
trust they were placing in him by granting him their youngest daughter's hand.

But
though the strong physical love the couple shared had been evident from the
start, the unification of their personalities had been turbulent and stormy.
Both Horace Pennington and his bride were stubborn, and bitter battles ensued
when they did not agree. Yet as violent as their fights were, they were soon
made up and forgotten. When she was a child, it had always confused Leigh that
her parents could be shouting at the top of their voices one minute and
snuggled in each other's arms the next. And though it was years before she
understood all the implications, Leigh had always blamed herself for her
parents' problems, and for her untimely birth forcing them into a marriage that
neither of them might otherwise have considered. Her grandfather had tried to
reassure her, but she had never totally believed his explanations.

Instead,
when the shouting started, Leigh would retreat to her room with the door
tightly closed to shut out the ruckus, or to the genteel atmosphere at the Hale
house where no one ever raised his voice. Nor was she ever quite sure, when all
was quiet at last, if both her parents would be there together, or if their
loud, upsetting arguments would finally succeed in destroying the security the
childish Leigh had craved.

Now,
with the war to further separate and divide them, her childhood fears seemed to
be coming true. Althea and Horace no longer made up between the battles, and
whatever the basic differences between them had been during the turbulent years
of their marriage, those differences had taken on new and terrifying
proportions.

Leigh
turned from her dark contemplation at the sound of the door to the study
opening, and briefly Aaron Crawford was silhouetted against the brightness and
the noise of the party.

"I've
been waiting to have a few words alone with you all evening," he began,
crossing the dimly lit room to where Leigh stood before the fire. "It
seems you've been so busy since you returned to St. Louis, I haven't had a
chance to talk to you."

"I
don't have much time beyond my nursing duties. I work all day and try to write
letters for my patients in the evening so that their people will have at least
some idea what's happened to them."

"Leigh
Pennington, altruism personified." His tone
mocked her. "Is this
devotion to nursing one of the things you learned in Cairo from the Bickerdyke
woman?"

"It's
a lesson Mother Bickerdyke is well qualified to teach, I think," Leigh
observed.

"Did
you learn a great deal besides that while you were at Fort Defiance?"

"Yes,
Aaron, a great deal. I'm glad I had the chance to go."

At
the trend in the conversation, his smile became hard and predatory. "I'm
pleased to hear you feel such gratitude; I only hope you aren't averse to
showing a little appreciation for the opportunity I gave you."

"Show
my appreciation?" she asked. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I
think you are quite aware of what I mean, Leigh, so let's not mince words when
our time together is bound to be short." Like the good military man he
was, Crawford had maneuvered for the best position, flanking her and cutting
off her route to the door.

Leigh
was quickly becoming aware of his intent, and with a swirl of apprehension she
realized the form he meant his reward to take. "Aaron, I do thank you for
the help you gave me in securing the position at Fort Defiance," she
began, belatedly trying to back away, "but I assumed the good I could do
for those poor soldiers would be payment enough for any favor." At the
time she had asked him for the letter of introduction to Colonel Oglesby, she
had sensed that the service was not without its price, but in the ensuing months
she had forgotten that she owed Crawford any debt.

"You're
really quite naive, my dear, if you believed that your gratitude was all I
wanted. And now I think the time has come to collect on my favor."

Leigh
tried to think of some way to put him off, but his slate-gray eyes were
fastened intently on her lips, and his arms were closing about her. With her
uneasiness growing, she remembered all the whispers she'd heard about his
reputation, about the liberties he had taken with other women. Determinedly she
placed her palms against his chest and bent back in an attempt to avoid him.
"Aaron, please," she gasped, "please don't do this."

But
his mouth was descending to devour hers, and his hand had come up to cup her
breast, claiming it as if he had a perfect right to hold and fondle her as he
chose. His mouth was hot, moving over hers in a burning violation, and Leigh
tried to squirm away. Still Aaron held her fast, and his kisses became harder
and more demanding, as if her struggles to escape excited him.

"Sweet,
sweet girl," he murmured, crushing her close. "So young, so soft, so
lovely, the very essence of your beautiful mother."

Crawford's
breath was heavy with the smell of whiskey and stale tobacco, and his musky
scent threatened to overwhelm Leigh. Incensed by his words and the liberties he
was taking, she fought to turn her head away. In painful retribution for
denying him her lips, he took sharp little bites of the silky skin along her
throat, making her twist even more violently against him. Panic leaped inside Leigh
as the discomfort grew. "Aaron, stop! Please stop; you're hurting
me," she protested in desperation.

Then
abruptly she was torn from Aaron's arms by a force that was overwhelming
strong, but surprisingly gentle. She was grasped around the waist and swept
behind a taller, broader body, and it was a moment before she realized that her
salvation had been accomplished by someone with more than a little experience
in the capacity of her rescuer.

"What
the hell are you doing here?" Crawford growled, angry at having been
deprived of the woman he had long been stalking.

"Defending
the lady's honor, it seems," Hayes Banister snarled back. The two men
stood facing each other for a long moment on the verge of the most primitive
and basic combat known to any species: a contest for the possession of a
desirable female. Their eyes were locked as each took the measure of the other,
their feet set as if claiming some intangible plot of ground, their shoulders
hunched with readiness as each waited for the other to make some aggressive
movement. Hostile vibrations quivered between them, and it seemed only a matter
of seconds before they would come together in a violent clash that would owe
much to some primitive need to claim and defend and little to any guise of
civility man had forced on his baser emotions.

Leigh
sensed the coming confrontation and threw herself between the two predatory
males. "Stop it!" she hissed at each man in turn. "Stop behaving
like beasts!"

Still
they stood glowering, as if her words had made no impression. Each sensed in
the other a primary threat to the possession of this woman, but beyond the
question of possession was a challenge issued on another level that touched the
essence of their masculinity.

Leigh
felt the conflict between them keenly and, though she did not fully understand
its scope, tried to reach them both again. "I want you to stop this now! I
won't be fought over like some tart in a saloon!"

For
a moment longer they held their fighter's poses, and then, almost
imperceptibly, the tension began to ease. Their faces were still flushed and
set in unyielding lines, but their shoulders had begun to relax and their fists
to uncurl.

Leigh
took a long, shaky breath, wondering what she would have done if they had not
responded to her words. It had seemed as if they were both quite willing to
tear each other apart in her behalf, and the thought of what might have
happened made her shudder. Resolutely she turned to Aaron Crawford. "I
think you'd better go now, Aaron. Whatever you believe I owed you for favors
past must by now have been repaid in full. And I would appreciate it if in the
future you stay as far away from me as possible."

She
could sense that Hayes was about to make a statement of his own to reinforce
the strength of hers, and she reached behind her to catch his hand, hoping to
forestall any threats he might be rash enough to make. Leigh did not want these
men fighting over her, and she was determined to prevent a confrontation at all
costs. For the moment it seemed that she might succeed, if only Hayes heeded
her warning. Somehow the strength of her grip must have conveyed her meaning,
and with evident difficulty he managed to bridle his tongue.

In
the silence that followed her dismissal, Crawford made a stiff bow. "If
that is what you wish, Leigh, it will be no hardship to stay away." Then
making a sharp military turn, he headed toward the door and closed it noisily
behind him.

With
knees gone weak, Leigh turned back to the man who had once again saved her from
harm. Above her his face was as still as granite: stern, harsh, and forbidding.
His behavior a few minutes before gave evidence of a part of Hayes that she had
never seen, a dangerous, ruthless part that was the antithesis of the gentle
man she had come to know in these last weeks. It was apart from the rational
engineer who solved problems with cool logic and separate from the tender lover
she had glimpsed that afternoon in his cabin on the riverboat. This man was a
stranger to her, and though she welcomed the help he had been able to give in
dealing with Aaron Crawford, he frightened her.

As
if becoming aware of her apprehension, Hayes's face suddenly softened.
"Are you all right, Leigh?" he asked solicitously. "Did that
bastard hurt you?"

She
welcomed the change in him, the return of the caring man she knew. Wearily she
leaned against his chest and accepted the security his encircling arms
afforded. "I'm glad it's over, but I'm sorry I was so naive. When Aaron
told me about Mary Ann Bickerdyke and agreed to write me a letter of
introduction, I guess I knew the letter had strings attached. I just put the
whole situation out of my mind, thinking that whatever happened, the
opportunity to prove myself as a nurse would be worth it. And, you know, in a
way it was. I'm finally doing what I've wanted to do all my life."

"I'm
just glad," Hayes murmured with a hint of humor in his tone, "that I
was here so you were not forced to pay a higher price than Crawford's service
warranted."

Leigh
acknowledged his words with a nod and snuggled closer. It was so nice just to
lean against him, Leigh found herself thinking, so nice to have his arms around
her. She was aware of him towering above her, of the breadth of his body
conveying strength and safety. She liked the crisp, starched shirtfront beneath
her cheek; the warmth of his hands at her waist; the citrusy scent that seemed
to cling to his clothes and skin. Contentment seeped through her, and she
indulged herself in a few moments of tangible security to help her recover from
the unsettling interview with the Yankee major.

Hayes
was even more aware of Leigh than she was of him, and he held her gently, as if
she might crumple beneath his touch. The emotions that had torn through him
when he opened the door and found her struggling in Aaron Crawford's embrace
had been frightening in their intensity, and he would have gladly torn the
major limb from limb if he'd had the chance. He had been filled with a fury he
had never known: half protective, half defensive, totally possessive of this
complicated woman who huddled in his arms.

She
was so soft, he thought dazedly, so wondrously soft beneath his hands. He
buried his lips in her cinnamon hair and breathed deep of her spicy essence.
Without volition, his senses began to expand and spiral as he became more and
more attuned to everything about her. His fingers were splayed against the rich
silk at the back of her bodice, and the warmth of her rose up against his
palms. In his mind he saw other times when he had held her: that night on her
porch with the scent of lilacs in the air, the afternoon on the riverboat when
he could have made love to her. The taste of her kisses seemed fresh on his
lips as he remembered, and the sound of her whispered endearments were loud in
his ears. The memory of those moments stirred him, and he felt his body harden
in response. Through the mists of reverie, the need to turn the past into
present grew strong within him, and he ached to revive those memories in Leigh,
too. But now a promise barred his way.

It
was a promise that no longer seemed as valid as when she had demanded and he
had freely given it. Yet it was sufficient to keep him from turning her face up
for his kiss, to keep his hands from caressing her. If he allowed himself even
the slightest touch against her skin, the slightest taste of her sweet, pink
mouth, he knew he would be helpless to curb his own desire. And that would make
him no better than Crawford, consumed and besotted by his lust. He was her
friend, and as a friend he must protect her, from unscrupulous men like Aaron
Crawford and from that undisciplined, unscrupulous part of himself.