Rebel Temptress (Historical Romance) (6 page)

"I am no longer suffering from the fever as you suppose, but I find I cannot desert the only home I have ever known."

"It is not proper for a young girl to live alone."

"You forget I am a married woman now and as such it is perfectly respectable for me to live here."

"Are you sure you will not reconsider?"

"No, my mind is made up."

"Well, I won't say I like the idea, but I do admire your determination. Maybe after you have had some time to be alone you will change your mind."

Honor smiled. "We shall see." Even though she no longer loved Jordan, she had a deep affection for his father and mother and knew they were acting out of kindness toward her.

"Honor, did you and Jordan have a little misunderstanding?" Clayton said, studying her closely. "He came home in a very strange mood this morning and said he was returning to his unit."

"No, I can assure you we did not have a little misunderstanding. "

Clayton Daniels missed the irony in her voice. "That is good. I would not like you to start off your marriage with a quarrel. By the way, Jordan asked me to give you something. He rode into town this morning especially to get it for you."

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a black velvet box and handed it to Honor. Honor wanted to refuse the case, knowing what it contained, but Mr. Daniels put it into her hand. She stared down at the ring box.

"Are you not going to open it?"

Honor flipped open the box to please her father-in-law. She had no wish to see the ring she knew she would find inside.

It was a beautiful ring, a huge emerald surrounded by smaller diamonds.

"My, my, that is a pretty trinket," Clayton Daniels told her. There was a note inside. She did not wish to read it, but Jordan's father watched her expectantly.

Unfolding the piece of paper, she recognized Jordan's handwriting:

My Dearest Wife,

This ring was purchased especially for you. The emerald matches your eyes. When you feel you can forgive me, slip the ring on your finger. When I next see you, I will hope to see my ring on your finger.

Jordan

Honor wanted to rip the note into shreds, but the presence of her father-in-law prevented her from giving in to that impulse. She snapped the ring case shut. "Would you like some tea, Mr. Daniels?"

"No, if you are not coming home with me, I had better get back. Maggie is going to be very disappointed when I return without you."

"Tell her I will visit, and I would be glad to welcome the both of you any time you can come over."

"I will tell her." He squeezed her hand. "We will drop in on you often. We would not want Jordan to think we were neglecting his little bride."

Honor thanked him for his kindness as she walked him to the front door. After he left, she sighed with relief. She then went to her bedroom, where she remained for a week.

She did a lot of thinking while she was alone. The ring Jordan had given to her she put in the bottom bureau drawer. She knew that she would never wear it. The events of the last few days had changed her life, but she was determined to take her life into her own hands now. She would work hard and show everyone that she could take care of herself as well as this plantation. But most of all she would prove to herself that she was a person in her own right.

Her self-esteem had been badly shaken by Jordan. She felt insignificant and homely. If only I were beautiful, she thought. Jordan must have been disgusted by her skinny body after comparing it to Meagan's. She pushed that thought to the back of her mind. She did not care what Jordan thought of her, she told herself.

When Honor finally rejoined the human race, as Darcy put it, she came armed with self-confidence in her ability to fill her aunt's place as mistress of Landau Plantation. She spent long hours riding with her overseer. He was patient with her and taught her many things that she had not already known about running the place. At night she would work on the books until she thought she would go blind from eye strain.

It had not taken long for word to get out that Honor and Jordan were married. Many visitors came to wish Honor well. She took her friends' well-meaning remarks with good grace when they hinted at their surprise at the marriage, knowing how Jordan had always felt about Meagan.

Honor found no need to enlighten them. Let them think what they will she told herself, it would not bother her in the least. Honor was arming herself with confidence, if not in her beauty, then in her ability to cope in a man's world and stand on her own two feet.

Honor was determined that she would justify her Aunt Amanda's faith in her. She vowed that even with a war going on, Landau would not become run down, as had many of her friends' plantations.

Apples were the main crop at Landau, and vinegar with the Landau label had once been shipped all over the United States. With the war the production had come to an end, but Honor knew that if she could only outlast that war, Landau would rise like a phoenix out of the ashes.

* * *

Honor often welcomed Jordan's parents to her home, and she even visited them on occasion. No one but she and Jordan would know what had transpired between them on their wedding night, she vowed.

Honor was hardly aware that she was changing until Maggie Daniels commented on it one afternoon at tea. "I am glad that you have made such a complete recovery after your illness. You have put on weight, and you are quite stunning."

Honor laughed. "Not beautiful?"

"Yes, my dear, beautiful. I declare, Jordan was most fortunate when he married you, but even he could not have known that you would turn into such a beautiful woman overnight. It is quite remarkable."

Honor could not credit that what her mother-in-law had told her was the truth. That night she stood before her mirror and studied herself critically. Her skin was soft and smooth, but she had always had good skin. Her eyes were the same green they had always been. Her hair did seem to have more life in it. It looked almost silver in color, and it was long and curled down her back and about her face. She could not see that she had really changed.

She removed her clothes and surveyed her naked body. She had put on weight, that was true. She noticed with shocked surprise that her breasts had grown larger. She had been so busy working that she had paid little attention to her own appearance. She pulled her nightgown over her head and sat down on the foot of the bed. Was she pretty? It was hard for her to judge her own looks.

Darcy came in with Honor's nightly glass of milk and stood over her, waiting for her to empty the glass. "You drink every bit of this milk, It's good for you."

"Oh, Darcy, that is what you say every night. I am no longer a child that you should insist I drink my milk because it is good for me."

"Uh huh, and ain't I right? You look healthy as can be."

"Darcy, do you think I have changed?"

"You put a little meat on them bones. Ain't that enough?"

"I mean, do you think I am pretty?"

Darcy put her hands on her hips. "Well, course I thinks you pretty. Ain't I always said pretty is as pretty does? If you acts pretty, then you is pretty."

"Darcy, look at me," Honor said in exasperation. "Am I changed?"

The black woman smiled and hugged her tightly. "My little lamb was always pretty to me."

Honor lay down wearily. Darcy would not tell her what she wanted to know. "I think I will go to sleep early tonight. I seem to be so tired lately."

"No wonder. You rush around all day, most time not eating. Now, drink your milk."

"I do not want it, Darcy. Lately it makes me sick to my stomach."

Darcy's black eyes snapped open. "How long has you been getting sick at your stomach?"

"I don't know. Two weeks, maybe more. It does not last long though."

"How long Master Jordan been gone now?"

"I don't know. What has that to do with anything?"

Darcy sat down on the bed and looked into Honor's face. "How long has he been gone?"

Honor looked at the ceiling, trying to calculate. "About three months, I guess. Yes, it would be three months now. Why do you ask?"

"I have a suspicion you is going to have a baby."

"A baby. Me? How could . . . oh, no, please not that," Honor cried. "I could not bear it."

Darcy put a comforting arm around her. "It won't be so bad, honey. I would like to hold your baby in my arms. Yes, surely I would."

Honor sat up and laid her head against Darcy's ample bosom and cried in agony. "I do not want to have Jordan's baby. I detest him."

The black woman rocked her back and forth, speaking soothing words to her all the while. When Honor stopped crying, Darcy dried her eyes. "I never asked you what went on the night you was married, but I have my suspicions. You can't blame an innocent baby for the sins of his father."

"I wish I could tear the baby from my body. I do not want to have his baby."

"Hush honey, it is sinful to talk that way. You just wait until you hold your baby in your arms. You will love it then. Maybe when Master Jordan finds out about the baby, things will be good between you?"

"No, he mustn't find out, Darcy. Promise you will tell no one about this."

"Well, sure, honey, but before long everyone will know anyway."

"I do not want anyone to know."

"Honey, you is upset with Master Jordan now, but a man feels a special way for the woman who has his baby. You will see that old Darcy speaks the truth."

"Jordan does not want me. He wants Meagan. He will not love a baby that I give him."

"You sleep on it, honey. Things always look darkest at night."

But Honor did not sleep. She lay awake, thinking about the baby she would have, a baby that would not be welcomed by her or Jordan. Soon she would be fat and clumsy. She had seen women who were with child, and she did not want to look the way they did.

She felt trapped in a situation she had no control over. Now there was one more sin to lay at Jordan's feet, one more reason to hate him.

* * *

Days passed into weeks. The Shenandoah Valley was beginning to feel the full impact of the war. The valley was important to the South. It was reputed to be the breadbasket of the Confederacy.

General Stonewall Jackson, knowing the importance of the defense of the Shenandoah Valley, concentrated his forces to defend it against the enemy. He was overheard to remark: "If the valley is lost, Virginia is lost, and the Confederacy cannot survive Virginia."

To date Honor had not seen the enemy, but there were terrible stories of battle as the enemy drew ever closer. Jordan's mother and father pleaded with her to move to Green Rivers, but she remained stubborn and determined to stay in her own home.

So many of the young men of the county had ridden off to war, and many of them would never return. Honor sometimes found herself wondering if Jordan was safe. She had received no word from him, but that was not surprising.

As the child began to grow inside of her, her resentment for him also grew. She could do nothing but wait for the birth of her child, the end of the war, and Jordan's return.

5

Sergeant Aloysius Simpson raised his face toward the sky and watched as the never-ending rain fell earthward. It peppered his face and plastered his red hair to the side of his head. Putting on his hat, he pulled the brim down over his forehead and moved forward in the saddle, waiting for the column of blue-clad soldiers to pass in front of him. He cursed under his breath as he watched the horses attempt to climb the mud-slick slope.

Victory had been theirs today. They had met with the enemy this morning at daybreak. It had been a long and bloody battle, with many casualties on both sides. The Confederate forces had made a valiant attempt to hold the bridge they had been defending and that both sides coveted, but in the end the rebels had finally retreated in defeat.

General Sheridan's orders had been to take and hold the bridge at all cost, and the cost had been a high one. The sergeant only hoped the damn bridge would prove worth the lives that had been lost today. He thought of young private Nolan. Today had been his first battle. He had reminded Sergeant Simpson of his own son, just turned seventeen. Nolan would never see his seventeenth birthday. He had died today, with half of his face blown away.

What a strange war this was. After the battle, both sides walked together retrieving their dead and wounded, where moments before they had tried to destroy one another. It was a hell of a world, he thought, when a country turns inward and tries to destroy its own.

Simpson thought of his own brother, Michael, who had a small farm in Virginia and had joined the Confederate army as soon as war had broken out. For all he knew, he might have killed his own brother today. He said a quick prayer that that was not the case.

His eyes moved over the column of men. They were slumped forward in their saddles, and weariness was written on every face. Every face but one, Simpson corrected. His commanding officer, he observed, was sitting tall and proud in the saddle. His dark, handsome face was a mask and showed none of what he must be feeling.

Simpson knew the men respected Major Adam O'Roarke and would follow him even into hell if he ordered it. The sergeant shook his head and wondered from what source his major drew his strength. He had fought as hard as his men today, and more often than not was at the front of the fighting, and yet, there he was, his eyes alert, encouraging the men with a nod or a soft-spoken word, urging them ever onward, keeping up their spirits.

Simpson urged his horse forward to join his major. They both sat silent for a moment. The only sound was the one made by the horses as they plodded forward through the downpouring rain.

"Sergeant, take six men and ride over the hill and see if you can find us shelter. I do not care if it is house or barn, we must see to our wounded. If you cannot find shelter, we will have to set up the tents. This is as far as I dare go from the bridge, if we are to be within easy access to it in case we are called on to reinforce the troops we left to guard it."

Simpson gave a quick salute and rode off to do his commander's bidding.

Major O'Roarke watched his sergeant ride away through rainfall so heavy that he was soon lost from sight. Adam leaned back in the saddle and pulled his greatcoat about him. It was autumn and had rained every day for the past two weeks, and Adam found his spirits matched the dismal landscape. When he had first seen the Shenandoah Valley, he had been moved by the beauty of the majestic mountains and the lush rolling hills. But after the battle today he would welcome the chance to leave this valley forever.

He tried to assess his losses today. Sixteen dead and eight wounded. There had been two other units besides his in the battle today, and Adam knew their losses had been even heavier than his own.

General Sheridan had ordered the other two units to pull back, leaving Adams' to hold and maintain the bridge. So many lives had been forfeited today on both sides.

How far away Boston seemed to him now. At the beginning of the war, his ideals had been high. He had thought it would not take long to bring the rebels back into the Union, but that was over two years ago. Adam still believed the Union would win in the end, but at what cost?

"Begging your pardon, sir, we have two wagons stuck in the mud. One of them has a broken axle and the other one will not budge."

Adam turned his gaze on his young lieutenant and sighed inwardly. His blue eyes narrowed.

"What would you suggest, lieutenant?"

"I think we shall have to abandon the wagons, sir," the young lieutenant answered, feeling uneasy under the close scrutiny of his commanding officer. He shifted uncomfortably when he saw anger flash in the blue eyes.

"How long have you been with me, soldier?"

"Eight months, sir," came the quick reply.

"Eight months, and still you cannot think on your own? If we abandon the wagons, would you have us abandon the wounded men who occupy them as well?"

"No, sir."

"Would you then ask them to get out and walk?"

"No, sir, I hadn't thought. ..."

"No, lieutenant, you have not thought."

The eyes of the young lieutenant wavered under the piercing gaze of the major.

Adam knew he was being unduly harsh to his young aide. He was taking his anger out on a young man who was barely old enough to shave, and who until a few months ago had been a clerk in his father's dry goods store in Philadelphia.

"I suggest you unhitch the horses from the wagon with the broken axle and hitch them to the other wagon. The added horse flesh should pull the wagon free of the mud. Then transfer the wounded to that wagon. Can you handle that, lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Harper's face flushed red. "Yes, sir, I will see to it immediately."

Adam felt the weariness creep into his body. He had had no sleep in over forty-eight hours and saw no prospect of resting in the near future. He watched as his lieutenant unhitched the horses from the crippled wagon. Hearing riders approach, he looked up and saw his sergeant returning.

As Sergeant Simpson joined him, Adam smiled slightly. The rough, grizzly, red-headed man had been with him for two years, and Adam found he depended on the sergeant a great deal. At times he was Adam's right arm.

"We spotted a house, sir, just over that rise. It is one of them fancy houses with lots of room."

Adam grinned broadly at him. "We shall try not to be too uncomfortable there, sergeant."

Sergeant Simpson removed a plug of tobacco from his pocket and took a chaw and slipped the remaining tobacco back into his pocket. "This is one hell of a storm, sir, and it don't show no signs of letting up."

Adam nodded in agreement. "Come along, sergeant, let us see this shelter you have found for us."

* * *

Honor was awakened by the sounds of loud voices just beyond her bedroom door.

"I don't care if you does have orders to search the house, you ain't going into this room."

Honor recognized Darcy's voice, and knew by the tone of it she was ready to do battle with whomever it was she was speaking to.

"Stand aside," came the curt reply, and Honor heard scuffling as the door was pushed open, admitting a Union soldier flanked by an angry Darcy, who was waving her hands in protest.

Honor slipped from her bed and reached for her robe that was hung over the back of a chair. It was difficult to slip into the robe with the way her hands were trembling. Her home had been invaded by the enemy. Her heart was racing and fear gnawed at her insides.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but my orders are to bring all occupants of the house below for questioning."

Honor could not seem to put her hands into the armholes of her robe. The soldier seemed unmoved by her dilemma. Taking her silence as an affront, he grabbed her by the shoulders and propelled her toward the door.

Honor was aware that Darcy tried to come to her aid but was pushed roughly aside by the hateful man. When they reached the staircase Honor was still struggling to get into her robe. The Yankee, thinking she was trying to resist him, pushed her roughly toward the stairs.

Honor felt herself falling and grabbed for the railing. The open stairway gaped before her. Reaching out her hand, she missed the railing and felt herself pitch forward. She felt panic, knowing a fall would most probably kill her unborn baby. In that very moment she knew she did not want to lose her baby. Grabbing her stomach, hoping to protect her child, she was aware of someone rushing up the stairs toward her and she felt herself being lifted into strong arms.

She opened her eyes and stared into a pair of the bluest eyes she had ever seen. The man who had saved her had concern written on his handsome face, but the blue uniform he wore gave evidence that he was her enemy. Fear so strong it threatened to render her unconscious gripped her, and she fought to overcome it. She tried to speak, but no words would issue from between her trembling lips.

Adam had seen the woman as she appeared at the top of the stairs. Watching her struggle, trying to slip into her robe, he knew she was being hindered by Corporal Bates. He had been about to issue the order for Bates to release her when he saw her falling forward. He would never know how he reached her so quickly, but all at once she was in his arms. He then stared into the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her eyes were deep emerald green, and at the moment they were full of fear and uncertainty. Her hair was a color he had never seen before. It was so light it appeared almost silver.

Feeling a need to reassure her, he gathered her tightly to him and carried her to the bottom of the stairs. He was startled when his hand accidentally brushed her swollen stomach. He realized she was heavy with child, a fact that her gathered white nightgown had hidden well.

Aware of her embarrassment, he carried her into the first door he came to, and setting her down, helped her into her robe. Adam felt momentary envy for the unknown man who had fathered the child carried by this lovely woman.

"Please release me, sir," she whispered.

Adam had not been aware that he held her by the shoulders.

Reluctantly he moved his hands and stared into her green eyes. Honor knew her shaky legs would not support her weight. She stumbled and felt the man's strong hands steady her, drawing her against him for support.

"Hold on to me, ma'am, until you feel strong enough to stand," he told her.

At that moment Darcy sailed into the room and shoved the man aside. Honor felt relief as Darcy's familiar arms encircled her waist.

"You harm my baby, and I will deal with you and all the rest of them Yankee scum," Darcy threatened.

Adam threw back his head and laughed deeply. "Have no fear. She will come to no harm from me. I would be too frightened of the consequences. You strike more fear into my heart than any enemy I have met thus far."

Honor's anger climbed as she stared into the mocking blue eyes. She felt her courage return as she gave him her haughtiest glare. "How dare you come into my home uninvited, sir? I will ask you to leave at once. If I were a man, I would see that you got your just desserts." She drew herself up to her full height, and the sparkle in her green eyes danced dangerously. "Leave my home this instant.

The blue eyes twinkled with merriment. "I am afraid you will have to suffer our presence, ma'am. You see, we have injured men who need medical attention immediately."

"Surely you do not intend to stay here."

Adam folded his arms across his chest and smiled slightly. "I am afraid I have no choice. But let me assure you that you have nothing to fear from me or my men." His smile deepened. "You will be quite safe, and we shall try not to intrude on your privacy."

Honor lowered herself to the sofa. "How long will you be here?"

Adam shrugged. "It is difficult to say, but you will not have to suffer our presence one moment longer than is necessary."

Honor sighed. She knew nothing she could say would make the slightest difference.

"Madam, may I present myself to you. My name is Major Adam O'Roarke, lately of Boston, Massachusetts." He gave her a gallant bow as his blue eyes twinkled. "How shall I address you?"

Honor rose to her feet. "If there is ever any occasion for you to address me, which I doubt there will be, you may call me Miss Landau . . . Mrs. Daniels," she corrected hurriedly.

Adam's face froze. "Which is it, Miss Landau or Mrs. Daniels?"

"It is Mrs. Daniels," she said, blushing in spite of her anger. "I was married but one day when my husband had to rejoin his unit." She was angry with herself for feeling the need to explain to this man.

His eyes wandered to her swollen stomach, and she could only guess what he was thinking. Honor was saved from any further comment by the litter bearers who entered the room carrying the wounded men.

Honor's eyes widened in horror as she saw a young boy with a dirty white bandage tied to his head, with blood seeping through it. She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move for a moment.

"Lord have mercy," Darcy said, trying to lead Honor from the room. Honor was halfway up the stairs before she knew what she must do.

"Darcy, help me dress, and then go to the kitchen and boil lots of hot water. Then find Aunt Amanda's medicine bag."