And One Wore Gray (38 page)

When Callie made her final decision and came down the stairway, she found Daniel sitting in the parlor. His arms were spread out over the back of the settee and his booted feet were stretched out before him, resting on the fine cherry-wood occasional table. He appeared entirely relaxed. Rudely so. She was certain that he would never sit so in his own parlor.

She was equally certain that his posture was a definite statement of his opinion of her.

But then again, maybe it was just a bone-deep exhaustion brought on by the war. Yet his eyes were on her like those of a hawk.

“You’ve been far more than ten minutes, Mrs. Michaelson,” he informed her.

“And you’re still here, Colonel,” she commented in return.

“I told you that I wasn’t leaving my son,” he said flatly.

“Yes, well your son needed things for the journey,” Callie informed him coolly. She wondered why her stomach was winding into such vicious knots. How could she wonder? Daniel was back.

She was suddenly aware that she was still very much in love with him. No matter how condemning his eyes,
or how furious she was with him. He was back, and he was in her parlor. The same man who had ridden into her life before, in the same gray uniform. A uniform the worse for wear, ragged, frayed, and even torn in spots. A wealth of unbidden tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She clamped down hard on her jaw.

But no matter how ragged or worn the uniform, the man within it was Daniel. And nothing could change the fact that he wore it well, that he was strikingly handsome in his cockaded and plumed hat, and that when he stood, he was tall and regal in the uniform.

Regal—and menacing, she decided. Against her will, Callie took a step back. He had been an extraordinary lover. Now he would prove to be an exceptional foe, she was certain. He would never believe that she had really been innocent of betrayal. She had no proof to give him. The only proof could come from his heart, and that heart was sealed hard against her.

He stood and walked toward her. She backed away again, warily. She couldn’t let him touch her. If he wanted to wage war, well, war it would be.

He smiled, aware that she had backed away from him. She couldn’t begin to read what lay in his mind. He ceased to move and contemplated her as if she were a stranger he had been sent to escort south.

“I reckon then, Mrs. Michaelson, that you are accompanying me?”

“I reckon, Colonel, that you’ve given me no choice,” she replied politely.

“There are always choices, Mrs. Michaelson.”

“Well, I choose for you to ride on, Colonel, but it doesn’t appear to me that you are going to do so.”

“Not alone.”

“Then it seems that I have no choice. But I wonder, Colonel, if you know quite what you’re taking on?” she asked, raising her chin.

His challenging smile deepened. “Mrs. Michaelson, I
regret to inform you that I am well acquainted with infants.”

“Really? Well then, you must understand the collection of clothing and diapers that are necessary! And I’m ever so delighted that I shall have help along the way!”

“Where’s the baby?” he asked her.

She hesitated. “Sleeping. I set him in his bed so that
I
could collect his things.” Something was at war within her. She was so sorry for his appearance. He looked so exhausted. His handsome features were gaunt and strained. He was thin. The battle he had left had gone so badly for the Rebels. She’d been hearing the tales of it all day from the soldiers in retreat. She wanted to hate him. She wanted to be mad enough to scratch his eyes out.

She also wanted to hold him in her arms, to smooth away the lines of care that haunted his eyes. She wanted to scrub away the dust and grime of battle from his back.

“Daniel, everything has been taken by one army or the other, but I’ve still some soup left in the cellar. If you want to rest a night I could clean your uniform and you could take a long bath—”

“And you could seduce me and the Yanks could come and take me again. No thanks,” he informed her icily.

She felt her back stiffen just as if a rod of steel had been set in it.

“Fine! Go hungry. Go dirty. Be miserable! I never seduced you.”

“You did.”

“I had no choice.”

“Poor Callie. You never seem to have choices. How is Captain Dabney, by the way?”

“I certainly don’t know,” Callie said.
“Really?” He arched a brow. “I thought you knew one another very well.”

Callie took two steps toward him and struck out as quickly as she could. He caught her hand—but not before it connected with his cheek, bringing with it a sharp, startling sound.

Once he had her hand, he pulled her against him, hard. His gaze glittered as it touched hers. “Watch it, Callie. The war has taught me lots of nasty habits. When I’m attacked, I attack back.”

He was so hot. Like a fire. And so furious. So many emotions seemed to churn in the searing blue force of his eyes. She wanted to cry out. She could not. She had to keep the battle waging, for it was better than surrender.

“When
I’m
attacked, Colonel, I attack back.”

“I asked you a question.”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, you haven’t asked me a question! You’ve cast accusations at me, and I find them offensive.”

“I found what happened to me here offensive.”

“I’m sorry for that. But you don’t believe me, so there’s nothing more I can say.”

“Yes, there is. I’ve asked you about Dabney. How is he? Is he still roaming the area? Has he ever managed to bring his company into a real battle?”

“I did answer your question! I don’t know!” His grip was tight around her wrist, and she was still held close against him. The warmth, the vibrancy of his body seemed to wrap around her own. She needed to break free from him.

She jerked hard on her wrist, backing away once again. “I don’t know! I haven’t seen him.”

He turned away from her. “I want to leave, Callie. Now. Shall I get the baby?”

She felt the blood rushing from her face. She had
known that he meant it. Then why did she feel so frightened now?

Because he was taking her away, and this was home, despite the enemies who had trampled over her land. She didn’t know exactly where he was taking her, or how she would manage once he brought her there.

He wanted the baby. He didn’t want her. And they were going south. She had brought up the law. Surely no judge would allow a soldier to take a child from its mother. But she didn’t know for sure. Perhaps Daniel would take her to a place where the Camerons owned the judges, where her child could be taken from her.

She clenched her fists hard at her sides and took a step back from Daniel, lifting her chin, praying that her voice would not waver.

“I won’t leave him, Daniel. I don’t know your intentions, but I won’t leave my son. I don’t care what you try to do.”

He stared at her, perplexed, as if she had suddenly lost her senses.

“If you were intending to leave him, Callie, I don’t imagine that you’d come with me now.”

“No! I didn’t mean that. I mean that you—you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“Oh, Mrs. Michaelson, I didn’t intend to get rid of you,” he said, and something about the depths of his voice sent shivers racing along her spine. “I think it’s much safer to know exactly where you are at all times. I spent time in a northern prison,” he said softly. “Perhaps you’re about to spend time in southern incarceration.”

She kept her chin high. “Just so long as …” Still, her voice broke. “As what?”

“You don’t intend to—force me away from him.” Her voice was a whisper. Soft and desperate on the air. Maybe it touched something within him at last.

“I said that I was taking him home. I told you that you had ten minutes to decide. What are you talking about now?”

She lowered her eyes. “You’re taking him to your home, Daniel. This is my home. His home.”

He was silent and she raised her head at last. He studied her intently.

“His home is Cameron Hall, Callie. He will be welcome there.”

“And what about me? I won’t be welcome. Will I even be abided?”

“No one has ever been made to feel unwelcome in my family’s house.”

“Right. I’m sure your slaves were always welcome.”

“I don’t own any more slaves, Callie. But if you’re interested in your own private shack, it’s a very big plantation.”

“You’re going to put me in a shack—”

“I said you were welcome to one if you want one!” Daniel barked back.

“But what do you intend for me?”

“How prim, how sweet, how innocent!” he responded.

“It’s a legitimate question!”

“What do you intend, Callie?” he demanded harshly.

“You are impossible!” she gasped, her fingers curling into the cotton of her skirts.

“No, Callie, I’m not impossible. But I’ll never, never be taken in by you again!”

“Taken in! You needn’t worry, Colonel Cameron. You’ll never touch me again, I swear it!”

“It’s far safer to touch a rattler.”

“Then how will we live, what will we do?” she demanded.

“What are you talking about?”

She was going to falter soon, she knew. “This is foolish, what we’re planning—”

“We aren’t planning anything,” Daniel said flatly. “I’m taking Jared to Virginia. You’re coming with us.”

“But we live in a certain society. North or South.”

“Society will wait, madam. At the moment, I’m wondering if we’ll survive this trip, if I won’t waken to find the Yanks at my throat, if I haven’t taken a sweet viper to my breast once again.”

Scarlet flamed across her cheeks and she felt the simmering growth of fury deep within her. “Sir, I would rather travel with an entire band of Apache Indians!”

“Pity the Indians!”

“Daniel, damn you! How will we live? How can we do this? Are you thinking of this child at all that you’re so determined to have—”

“Jesu, enough questions, Callie! I don’t intend anything right now. Except to get Jared home!”

“Daniel, don’t speak in circles!”

“What do you want from me, Callie? I was chained like an animal because of you!”

“And I have been ostracized because of you! What do you think? That this has been easy? My husband, a good Union soldier lies dead in my yard. When I should have still been clad in black, I was carrying a Rebel’s child! Don’t you see? You’ve no right to him at all—”

“I have every right!”

“You don’t!”

“Well, I’m taking him.”

“How can you just—”

“Callie, I am much bigger and much stronger than you are, that’s how. Now, shall I get the baby?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He stared at her for a moment, then started for the stairs.

She raced after him. She was afraid to let him have Jared until they were well under way. “I’ll get Jared.
I’ve packed Pa’s old saddlebags with his things. If you’ll get them …”

She let the words trail away, and she hurried up the stairs past Daniel. She hurried into the baby’s room, swept him gently up into her arms, and swirled around. Daniel was behind her. As she had asked, he picked up the saddlebags and threw them over his shoulder.

Oh, how she hated him at this moment! And still … She looked at him. He was so tired, so worn. Like a lean, hungry wolf. For a moment she forgot the passion of her hatred and her anger.

“You really should eat something—” she began.

“Not on your life. Let’s go.”

“Fine. Starve. Don’t expect me to be nice to you again.”

“The last time you were nice I wound up in chains.”

“What you belong in,” she informed him evenly, “is a muzzle, Colonel.”

She turned around, head high, and started down the stairs. He came behind her.

She walked through her parlor with her shoulders straight. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes again. She was going to walk away from her home. A home she had kept so long and so industriously, waiting for the day when her brothers would come home.

She stepped out on the porch. She didn’t look back. She didn’t dare. She would see in her mind the warmth and comfort of the parlor, the settee where Daniel had awaited her. She would see the little marble side table with the paintings of her parents, and of Jeremy and Joshua and Josiah. She had never left it before, except for short trips to Washington. Even when she had married, they had come back to this house because there had been more room for them here.

It was where her family lay buried.

She stood on the porch, feeling the slight breeze of
the night stir by her. To her surprise, Daniel carefully locked the door behind them. She smiled. “What?” he demanded.

“Two armies have come and taken what they want. The windows have been shelled, and there are still cannonballs in the wall. Yet you lock the door.”

“Yes.” He walked by her, approaching his gaunt horse, a tall roan that waited by the well. He turned back. “Have you any animals? If so, we need to leave them somewhere, though certainly with all these soldiers coming near, anything that walks on four legs will quickly become a meal.”

“I’ve no animals left. Your soldiers have already come through.”

“Then let’s go.”

He strode across the yard to where his roan horse waited. He turned back to her. “Let’s go,” he repeated, looking at her before tossing the saddlebags over the roan’s haunches.

It had grown very late. Despite the heat in the summer days, the night had grown cool, perhaps because of the rain that had made mud of so many of the roads.

In the darkness, near and far, they could see the light of camp fires.

Yanks and Rebs were camped all around them.

Callie swallowed hard. The going would be rough.

“Do you really want to ride out tonight?” she whispered.

“This minute,” he informed her.

Reluctantly, she stepped forward. Before she reached the roan horse he turned. His hands spanned across her waist as he lifted her and Jared, setting them both up atop his mount. With an easy swing he was up behind her, and a moment later, he was urging the horse on, into the night, into the darkness.

She was aware of him as she had never been aware before. Aware of the rough wool of his uniform coat, of
the heat and movement and muscle play of his body beneath it. His arms were around her, and around their sleeping child as they started off at a slow walk.