Siege of the Heart (Southern Romance Series, #2) (14 page)

The spy was on him in a moment, grappling in the dark, his own knife flashing. For a moment they rolled downhill, leaves flying and neither side daring to aim a pistol for fear of killing their own man. Then there was a scream, hastily choked off, and the spy was panting, blood on his knife. He dove back for cover as another round of bullets clattered around them.

“Go! Now! While they’re reloading.” Knox pushed at them.

“But you...”

“It’s my word against theirs if they haul me back. Get home to your loved ones. Go now!”

Even as Jasper protested, the spy grabbed his hand and pulled him downhill, hissing for Solomon and Cecelia. They ran with no thought to the noise, throwing themselves flat by instinct—all save Cecelia, who they pulled down with them—in time for the next volley to go over their heads. Then they were up and running again, running until they thought their lungs would burst with it.

“Get the horses!” someone yelled.

The sound of Solomon’s laughter echoed through the trees.

“What in Heaven’s name...” the spy began.

“I feel so alive,” he gasped back. “I haven’t felt so alive in years, Vi. Cee, are you all right?”

“You’re insane,” his sister gasped back. She had her skirts hiked up and she was heaving for breath, but she kept on running gamely.

“Who’s Vi?” Jasper called.

“Not important! Keep running!”

They burst out of the trees and ran for the river, hearing the shouts and the distant pound of hoof beats.

“This way!” Jasper led them to the outer bank, scrambling up the rock face and onto a densely-covered hill, dragging them all into the scrub brush and praying no one had seen them disappear. They lay, holding their breaths, as the group passed them by, shouting curses and yelling for them to come back.

“How long until they come back?” Cecelia whispered, and the spy made a shushing noise.

They waited a little longer, as the birdsong grew louder and the sky above them paled, and then the men trudged back, horses clopping and tossing their heads so the bits jangled. The men walked in angry silence, and all of them in the bushes lay still as the dead, knowing that their captors would be scanning the landscape for footprints they had missed.

They waited even longer, until the air beneath the bushes began to heat and a few rabbits hopped about nearby, sniffing warily at the humans before dashing away with their white tails bobbing. Squirrels chattered above and Jasper heaved a sigh of relief.

Then the spy started laughing. It was infectious, a laugh like...like Clara’s. Jasper picked up his head and looked in amazement at the slim woman, holding her hand over her mouth and giggling. He saw the look that passed between her and Solomon then, and he understood—at last—the whispered conversation he’d overheard, the insistence that the spy get to safety. The bloody spy was a woman! He couldn’t get over that. How had he missed it originally? He shook his head.

It was amazing what love could do.

Once the laughter had started, none of them could resist it. It bubbled up from all of them until they were holding their sides and rolling in the brush, trying to keep from giving shouts that would echo through the trees. The birds alighted in a flock and flew away again, and they laughed, delighted and amazed and alive.

They were alive. Jasper tipped his head back onto the soil and looked up at the early morning clouds blurring and shifting in his tear-filled gaze. He was alive, and he could go back to Clara. And that, he knew now, was the only place he wanted to be.

He just wished that learning it hadn’t been quite so painful.

They pushed themselves up, brushing leaves from their clothing, and stared at one another, chests heaving, and Jasper felt the most peace he’d known in months. He was just relaxing when Solomon swung around to look at Cecelia.

“You’re
pregnant
?”

“It isn’t real,” Jasper said wearily.

“You don’t have to lie for me,” Cecelia muttered.

“...what?” He looked over at her, frowning.

“But how did you know?” she asked him. “I thought I’d hidden it, but...you said mother knows?”

“
Mother
knows?”

“Your mother doesn’t—Solomon, just—Cecelia...” Jasper shook his head, and then the truth crashed in on him and he felt his mouth drop open. “You actually
are
pregnant?”

In the stricken silence that followed, Cecelia turned and heaved the meager contents of her stomach onto the ground.

“W
hy did you decide to stay?” Cecelia asked.

Solomon glowered over at her. She had managed to be taken with morning sickness after he demanded the truth, and both Violet and Jasper had taken to shushing him whenever he asked more questions over the sound of her retching. Which, as he had explained multiple times, was immensely unfair—he simply needed to know which boy in Knox to thrash the hide from.

“I always wanted to stay,” Jasper answered her. For all the bruises on his face, he was smiling. He had a look of contentment that Solomon did not think he could have wiped away if he tried. “I just wasn’t sure if I belonged at the farm.”

“You belong wherever your family is,” Cecelia said, with the absolute certainty of the very young. “And we’re your family, aren’t we?”

“You are. You’re right. I shouldn’t have doubted.”

They were locked in easy conversation, and Violet guided her horse back out from between them so that they could ride together.

“I can’t believe she’s—”

“Don’t think about it,” Violet advised. “Let your mother handle it.”

“Why?”

“Because she
won’t
thrash the man Cecelia’s going to marry,” Violet said, laughing.

“She hasn’t got a ring! No one asked me for permission!”

“This would hardly be the first time a young woman arranged her own marriage plans,” she pointed out. “And nothing’s going to get much better or worse between now and when we get back to the farm, anyway. You know I’m correct.”

“It is one of your most infuriating traits, I will have you know.”

She only laughed, and the sound was like liquid sunlight, pouring over his skin.

“You’re happy,” he observed.

“I am.” She looked over at him, and shrugged her shoulders. “I-I’ve made a decision.”

“What sort of decision?” He wanted to rein the horse in, but he was too afraid to do anything except remain upright.

“When we talked about how ugly war is, we were right. Battles are terrible things. I look at the cost sometimes and I wonder...was it worth it? I suppose I’ll never know.” She looked thoughtfully out at the horizon, and he thought she was blushing. “But I do know. When I set out to find you, and the rest of them, anyone who had ‘betrayed’ us. That was revenge. I was living in the past, and the truth was that I didn’t understand what could make someone do this. You...you turned when you offered a man mercy.”

“Treason,” Solomon said softly.

“Is it?” She looked over at him. “I ride alone often, and I have a great deal of time to think. It’s a funny thing, aiding and abetting the enemy, when the enemy is only your enemy because you insist he’s not your enemy and he insists he is.” She saw Solomon’s frown. “What I mean is, we fought the Confederacy because they didn’t want to be part of the Union anymore, and they told them they were with us, and then we fought them. And yes, they took up arms for their cause, but you didn’t give them the means to kill hundreds. You didn’t betray your regiment. You offered a man mercy, and you fought at their side for a cause they desperately believed in. How can I call that treason and nothing else?”

“I don’t think you’re cut out to be a spy.” He said it with a smile, for her face was shining with belief and he could not have been harsh.

She laughed again, a bit sadly. “Neither do I, if truth be told.”

“You’re sure...”

“Solomon, it was not because I fell in love with you.”

He felt his heart turn over at her words, and could not resist a smile. She smiled back at him.

“What happened here gave a face to doubts I had held for a long time.”

“Do you doubt that you joined up for good reasons?”

“Not at all,” she said at once. “There were those who betrayed people to terrible deaths because they wanted money or power, and then there were those who followed their consciences.”

“It was misguided.”

“And yet you brought Jasper back with you. That man, Knox, showed mercy. Your sister had a happier life for what you did. I...it just isn’t as simple as I thought, Solomon. That’s all.”

“Will they let me go?” Solomon asked bitterly.

“They sent me to find any traitors I could. When I found you...I do not think I found a traitor. As far as they’re concerned, I never found anyone. I think—” She broke off, her eyes on the sky. “I think it might be time to tell them the truth about who I am.”

“They could put you in jail for indecency!” Solomon whispered, and she laughed.

“I know far, far too much for them to try to hurt me. I think they’ll just let me go. But I meant what I said about living in the past, about living for revenge. It’s time the country stopped tearing itself to pieces, and started healing.”

“Will you stay with us at Dalton Farm for a time?” Solomon asked impulsively, and she looked over with her eyes shining.

“Yes. Of course I will. I want to meet Clara, and your mother. Cecelia told me she’s the timid one. I can hardly imagine the others!”

“She
was
the timid one,” Solomon said, laughing. “But Cecelia has come into her own. She grew up when I wasn’t looking.”

“You were looking into the past too,” Violet told him simply.

“I suppose I was.” He reached out to take her hand and drew her closer, their legs brushing together, their fingers intertwined. “Can I confess something?”

She swallowed. Nodded. Their touch was electric, the simple touch of skin on skin more potent than anything he could remember; he felt drunk.

“Before I left, a few days ago...” Solomon’s voice was low and husky. “I hated to see Clara and Jasper together. They’re so happy, Violet. When they look at one another, it’s like there’s no one else in the whole world. When I saw that, I thought I could never feel the same. How would I ever find someone to love that way? It seemed so lucky, as well—to meet someone in a field, and fall in love at once. I could hardly believe it. And then...”

“And then?” she prompted him. She caught her breath.

“And then you knocked me out of the way of a bullet, and everything in my life changed in one moment.”

“Can I confess something as well?” It was the closest to coquettish he had ever seen her, a blush rising in her cheeks. She looked up at him through her lashes, and she bit her lip when he drew her aside, into the shadow of a tree.

“Please do,” he told her, bending his face close to hers, and he felt her shiver with the sound of his voice. “I haven’t stopped thinking about that moment. Or about our kiss.”

“Neither have I.” He cupped her face gently in his hand and drew her close. When her arms came up around his neck, he shuddered.

Their lips met, tentatively at first, before the kiss deepened. Her mouth opened under his, and their tongues tangled. She pressed herself close, the length of her body meeting his, and he wrapped his other arm around her waist, possessive. She melted at his touch, standing on tiptoe to meet his lips.

“We should...”

As if on cue, a shout came through the trees.

“Solomon?”

“In a moment!” Solomon called back, and silence was his only answer. He grinned down at Violet, and saw her blushing.

“They’ll know.”

“They’ll know I can’t keep from kissing you,” he agreed, and followed the statement with a kiss. When her fingers tangled in his hair, he groaned aloud. “My goodness, woman!”

“Yes?” Her eyes were wide.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he demanded, but he was smiling.

She shook her head, blushing all the more, and he ran one finger down along the side of her neck, watching her breathing change in response to his touch.

“You’re the perfect mix of angel and temptress,” he whispered. “I’ve never known another woman like you. You are exquisite, Violet.”

“Even in breeches?” she asked him, a laugh in her voice, but she turned to kiss his palm, and her eyes drifted closed as her lips moved.

“We’ll have you out of those soon enough,” Solomon promised.

“But I hate wearing...ohhh!”

“Mm-hmm,” he agreed, and his lips found hers once more.

I
t was five days back on foot, days when Jasper and Cecelia spent rather a lot of time walking very far ahead of Violet and Solomon. The two could hardly look away from one another, their faces transformed by love and their manner at once subdued and leaping with joy.

They dawdled, the two of them, and Jasper wanted to snarl at them to keep walking. As they grew closer, he thought he might vomit for nervousness. What would Clara think when she saw him again?

“That you’re all manner of interesting colors these days,” Cecelia opined tartly, when he asked. She pointed to a particularly vivid bruise on his neck. “That one’s green. I didn’t know people turned those colors.”

Jasper said nothing. His heart was still pounding, his mouth dry.

“Jasper, she’s going to be glad to see you.”

He could only hope. He wanted to run all the way to the farm, to fall on his knees and beg her forgiveness for doubting. He had thought, all this time, that he might not be Northern enough, Union enough. He had not trusted that her love would land only where it belonged...and that he deserved it, and now he was no longer sure she would forgive him.

But when he saw her running to him, her red dress vivid against the bare fields, he doubted no longer. He broke into a run as well, pounding across the hard earth where he had threshed wheat, carried apples for cider, driven oxen to turn the soil. This was his home, the farm house rising prettily in the background, wood smoke curling from the chimney against a blue autumn sky. This was his home, and the woman running to him with her golden curls flying in the wind would be wife.