One Wore Blue (36 page)

Manassas had been a fine test, and the test was still going on. The war was young, and men were still mastering the arts of it. In August, in the rolling hill country southwest of Springfield, Missouri, the battle of Wilson’s Creek had been fought. Like Manassas, it had been a clear victory for the Confederacy. The Union leader had been killed, and his troops had withdrawn. They had not just retreated—they had left most of the state to the Rebs.

In Virginia, men were skirmishing and battling in various pockets. The South had yet to invade the North, but Washington remained ringed by forces. There had been confrontations in a number of places. Union forces had moved against Confederates at Big Bethel, and there had been skirmishing at Piggot’s Mill, Wayne Court House, and Blue’s House, among others. The action had kept the hospitals filled.

The Rebs were doing all right. They didn’t need any help from Kiernan.

Jesse left the train in Maryland and rode until he reached General Banks with his orders from Colonel Sebring.

Banks frowned, wondering what Jesse was talking about at first. Then he remembered that he had given his captain permission to burn the house. “The Millers are hard-core Rebels, Captain Cameron. I’ve done my best to deal justly and properly with the civilian populations around here, but Captain, the Millers are an exception.”

“But the Miller men are dead, sir. The adults, that is. There’s a boy living there, a widow, and a little girl. The house would be absolutely perfect for a hospital. Sir, dammit, I can save more of your troops!”

Banks stared at Jesse, startled. Jesse wondered for a minute if he was going to be court martialed, but then Banks smiled. “Go on. Convince me.”

Jesse reminded him that western Virginia might come back to the Union fold and that kind treatment of the people—even Rebs like the Millers—might have an influence next week, when it came time for people to vote. Banks’s grin
kept growing. At the end, Banks nodded, reaching for his pen. “You’ve sold me, Captain. The place is yours.” He frowned for a minute. “Just keep your eye on—”

“I know, sir. Keep my eye on Mrs. Miller. I’ve been warned.” And I know her, he added in silence. I know her very well.

Banks assigned him two orderlies and a small company of guards for his operations. But before the men could be assembled, Jesse was on the road again, very aware of the desperate need to hurry. When he reached the soldiers on the outskirts of Harpers Ferry, he learned that Norris and his men were already on their way to Montemarte.

It was then that Jesse started to race up the cliffs and ragged terrain, anxious to beat Norris.

There was no scent of fire on the air. That was a good sign.

At last he burst upon Montemarte. He saw the ring of soldiers in blue surrounding the place. He saw Norris, mounted, shouting orders.

And he saw the lit torches, ready to be set to the kindling planted about the porch.

Even as he raced onward, he saw Kiernan.

She stood upon the porch, tall, slim, and regal, the very essence of everything beautiful and graceful and charming in the world, her world, their world, the world that they had both known. The sunlight from the dying day caught the tendrils of her hair, and it seemed ablaze itself, a color deeper, richer, more alive than even the true fires that threatened her existence.

She was dressed beautifully, elegantly, as if she had just stepped away from tea. White lace lay over a gown of silver blue, a gown with full, sweeping skirts, its bodice cut to reveal the elegant length of her throat and just a hint of the fullness and roundness of her breasts. Her eyes were magnificent—burning, blazing emerald. With every inch of flesh and bone and beauty, she was defiant. As she stood there, the men began to move toward the house with their burning torches.

“Halt!” Jesse roared. He leaned closer to Pegasus and
raced harder to reach the house. “Norris, halt!” he thundered.

Norris saw him at last. He pulled his horse around and came toward Jesse, but by then, Jesse had nearly reached the house. He reined in hard, meeting up with Norris upon his bay.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Norris demanded furiously. “I’ve got permission to—”

“Not anymore. Read, Norris,” Jesse told him, producing his orders.

“A hospital!” Norris bit out heatedly.

“The place is mine. Do you understand?” Jesse demanded.

“You bastard!” Norris hissed suddenly. “I’ll get you for this, Cameron!”

Jesse arched a brow to him while Pegasus pranced nervously beneath him. “You’ll get me for this? For setting up a hospital? What the hell is the matter with you, Norris?”

Norris rode close to him. “I’ll tell you what’s the matter. This place should burn! And
she
should burn. They should all burn, right down to the ground!”

“There are children in there.”

“They’ll grow up to be Rebs! And they’ll kill more of us on the battlefield.”

“Andrew Miller is dead, Norris. And Anthony Miller is dead. That’s enough.”

“You watch yourself, Cameron. You just watch yourself!” Norris warned furiously.

“I always do, Norris,” Jesse told him. “Douse your torches!” he ordered loudly to the men. He stared at Norris again. “And you watch yourself, Norris. I’ve chosen a medical command this time, but I was cavalry a long, long time before that. And I know what I’m doing.”

“You threatening me?”

“I’m telling you that I know how to watch out for myself.”

“Reb-lover! Or are you a Reb?” Norris demanded.

“Get the hell out of my way,” Jesse snarled, “before I forget that we’re on the same side.”

He rode past Norris and reined in right before the porch.

She stood there still, as regal as ever, like a princess, not about to forget her station in life.

“Hello, Kiernan,” he said softly.

Her eyes swept over him, cold and filled with disdain. Gone, long gone, was the girl he had once known, the girl he had loved.

She was a stranger now, distant, as cold as the frost of the coming winter.

She didn’t respond to him in any way. He gritted his teeth, feeling his temper flare. He wanted to shout at her in fury. He wanted to shake that cold superiority from her eyes and make her understand. “Mrs. Miller, as of this moment I’m taking over this property for use as my headquarters, for hospital and surgical space as is necessary. You will kindly inform your household.”

Her gaze swept chillingly over him once again, but at last, she spoke. “Captain Norris has plans to burn the place, Captain Cameron. I’m afraid you’ll have to seek your headquarters elsewhere.”

That was the final straw. He wanted to do more than shake her. He wanted to draw her over his knee as if she were still a child and paddle some sense into her. He’d half-killed himself to reach her in time, and she was telling him that she’d rather see her house burned than see him in it.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had dismounted and was striding up the steps. His fingers itched to touch her. Somehow, he restrained himself. He spoke through clenched teeth. “I’m trying to save your home and your neck, Mrs. Miller,” he told her.

“My neck hasn’t been threatened, Captain Cameron.”

“Keep talking, Mrs. Miller, and it will be! Now shut up, and the manor can remain standing.”

She delicately arched one brow, watching him. “Will you really be taking it over?”

“Yes.”

Her lip curled. “Then I’d rather see it burn.”

It took every ounce of his self-control to refrain from wrenching her shoulders around to force her to understand
the gravity of her position. He fought to speak in a level tone.

“I’m sure you would, Kiernan. Common sense was never your strong suit. But what of young Jacob Miller and his sister?”

“Jacob wouldn’t want a Yankee turncoat like you living in the house, either, Captain Cameron.”

“You’d rather it burned?”

“Yes.”

He stared at her, and he thought of the reckless speed with which he had come here, so desperate to salvage her home for her.

And she’d rather see it burned than see him touch it. He could have killed her.

Instead, he started to laugh. Hard. He turned away from her, starting down the steps.

“Captain Cameron!”

He paused. She was suddenly hurrying down the steps to him. Her breathing was hard. Her breasts were rising and falling with agitation, and for a moment, all he could remember was the feel of the woman in his arms, and the look of those green eyes when they were drenched with passion. She was still so damned regal.

But there was a chink within that armor of hers. She didn’t really want the house to burn. She just wanted him to know how very much she hated him.

“Will you—will you burn it now?” she asked him.

He set his foot on a step and leaned an elbow casually upon it. “Well, Mrs. Miller,” he told her, “I probably should do just that. But I am sorry to disappoint you. I’m afraid that I can’t burn it now. I had to threaten and cajole and just about turn handstands to get the general to turn the place over to me. You see, Millers aren’t real popular among the Union men. Lots and lots of them have had friends and kin killed by Miller firearms. They’d like to see the total destruction of Miller property and Miller people.”

“That shouldn’t be difficult now, considering that the majority of the Millers are dead—thanks to the Union Army.”

“I assure you, several hundred Union men died the same—thanks to the Confederate army.”

“They were on Virginia soil!” she said, her eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t start the war, Kiernan.”

“But we’re on opposite sides.”

He felt his temper snap.

He loved her so much.…

And they were enemies. No words that she had ever spoken had shown him that as clearly as the look in her eyes today.

“So fight me!” He managed to say the words softly. “But I’m moving in, with my staff. Take your little charges and run to your own home. You’ll be safe enough there for a while. I probably won’t be able to salvage everything in the house, but at least I can keep it standing.”

“I don’t want any favors from you!” she snapped. Again, the fire was in her eyes. Her breasts rose and fell with her rapid breathing. “And I’ll be damned,” she continued, “if I’ll run away from a passel of bad-mannered Yanks!”

His heart seemed to slam against his ribs—and his groin.

“You’re staying?”

Her chin shot up, and she might have been the Queen of England. “Stonewall Jackson will bring his army in here and wipe out the lot of you,” she promised. “I might as well wait around for him to come. And keep your men from looting the house blind.”

“You haven’t been asked to stay, Mrs. Miller.”

“Are you planning on having your men throw me and the children out—bodily?”

“Heavens no, Mrs. Miller. It’s war, and I have managed to send men into battle. But I’m a merciful commander—I wouldn’t dream of sending them in after you.”

She ignored his sarcasm completely. She almost smiled in cool, calculating challenge. “Then I’m staying.”

“Maybe not,” he told her heatedly. “I didn’t say that I wouldn’t come in after you myself.”

“What a fine point of valor, Captain Cameron!”

“Go home, Kiernan!”

“This is my home now. And Jackson will come back. Or Lee will come back. Some southern general will come for this land again, and you will be routed.”

She was probably right about that, Jesse determined. Stonewall would claim the area again—and again. Or Lee would come back, or someone.

He couldn’t hold it long. But when the Union was here, he had to manage to be here too.

He stared at her—at the pride in her stance, at the beauty in her face, at the fire within her eyes and the passion.

And the fury and the hatred.

And still, he wanted nothing more than to strip away the silver finery of her dress and hold her beneath him and take the fury and the tempest into his arms. To lie with her, to bed her again.

His gaze raked up and down her, and then he shrugged and spoke as casually as he could. “That’s highly possible, Kiernan. Fine. Stay. But I’m taking over the house. Be forewarned.”

“Forewarned, sir?” Her fury was ragged in her voice. “I’ll be looking over your shoulder. I’ll be making sure that you treat Reb prisoners with the same care that you would give to your own injured.”

Oh, how he itched to seize her throat! But she had intended to reach into his soul, and he would never let her know how easily she could do so. He stepped closer to her. “I thought you’d run because of me, Mrs. Miller, like you did before. I won’t mind your being around. I’ll enjoy it. You’re the one who promised never to suffer life with a Yank, remember?”

“I won’t be suffering a life with you! I’ll be surviving in spite of you!”

He smiled slowly, watching her. Fine, challenge me! You will not win, Kiernan, so help me God, you will not win!

“I’ll fight you every step of the way. And the South will win.”

“Maybe the battles, but never the war,” he said quickly. He realized that he wasn’t talking about the great conflict
between the North and the South. He was talking about the two of them.

Suddenly, the tension was so great that it was nearly unbearable. He felt her heat, felt the raw desperation and fury and determination in her.

And he felt the sizzle of the fire that had always burned between them. Dear Lord, he wanted her! And the memories of the things that had once been between them were suddenly naked in her eyes.

Damn, but I will have you again! he vowed in silence. Perhaps she didn’t fully remember. She’d been Anthony’s wife.

A black wave of unreasoning anger washed over him. He’d been warned to keep his personal life out of the military.

And here he was, growing heedless of the forces around him, heedless of the autumn day.

Wanting her. Wanting to take her until he could erase the touch of a dead man. Wanting her to remember only him, and hating that dead man for ever having touched her. Hating the emotions that touched him, but still wanting her. Wanting her so badly that he could have swept her into his arms right now and had her, there on the lawn, despite the troops, despite—honor.