Ashes in the Wind (23 page)

“By damn! I should have known!”

The dark brown hair, with highlights of red, framed a creamy-skinned visage. The lips were soft and sensuous; the eyes a clear sparkling shade of gray fringed by thick, black lashes. Even with the undisguised fullness of womanhood, the features were unmistakably Al’s.

A chuckle started deep in Cole’s chest. “I should have given you a bath the first day we met.”

“Fool! Idiot!” Then as if these words were not bad enough, she spat, “Yankee!”

He seemed oblivious to the epithets as he turned her face first to the left, then to the right. “How old are you?”

She glared up at him, grinding her teeth as she answered bitterly, “
Seventeen
. . . going on eighteen.”

Cole heaved a sigh of relief. “I feared you were much younger.” Another light dawned in his skull. “Alaina!” He raised a brow. “Perhaps Alaina MacGaren?”

“Of course!” She flung his hand away from her and rubbed her arm where his fingers had bruised it. “Alaina MacGaren! Spy! Murderess! Enemy of both North and South! What is it now? Two thousand for my head? What will you do with it all?”

“Dammit, girl, if you were with me, then you couldn’t have—”

“You are so swift in your deductions,” Alaina sneered derisively. “But tell me, Captain Latimer, who will be my defender? I carried a dead man’s effects to his commander and became a spy for refusing a Yankee’s fondling. I was forced to flee my home and become a lad! Will you destroy Roberta’s name to clear
mine? Or will you make up some lie to tell, then stumble over your hidebound honor in its telling and trap me all the more firmly? Will you condemn the Craighughs to prison for having aided a fugitive? Will you plead you mistook the virgin, decry your vows, and make the whole thing seem right in your muddled mind?”

Alaina sidled away from him and silently vowed to shred his arm if he tried to touch her again. Glaring at him, she hissed through clenched teeth, “Do you think I will plead for my salvation from a Yankee? Do what you will! Seek out your pride and honor, but do not hope to find your conscience clean and laundered upon my couch! Go find your loving bride, the one you chose. But leave me be!”

She choked on the sobs that welled up, and blinded by tears, she whirled and flew to the door, flinging it wide. Her gasp of horror made Cole look around. Roberta, in all of her finery, stood before the door with jaw hanging aslack. For a stunned moment, the woman could do nothing more than stare wild eyed at the girl, then her gaze traveled downward to the transparency of the skimpy robe before her eyes flew to Cole and took in his indecent attire.

“The minute my back is turned”—she advanced like a raging hurricane, while Alaina stumbled back before the onslaught of her fury—“you two are at your dirty little games! There’s no telling just how long you both have been—” Her next words were such obscene accusations, Cole’s temper flared.

“Roberta! Shut your damned mouth!”

She turned to him, and her voice became a wheedling whine. “How could you? How could you
go behind my back with this—this tramp? Do you take to bed every little hussy who offers herself?”

Alaina gasped in outrage. “I never!”

“Whore!” Roberta screamed stridently, and in the next instant Alaina’s ears were ringing from the vicious slap hurled against her cheek. Before Cole could step between, Alaina came around full circle with her small fist clenched tight. She was not as genteel as Cole had been that morning. Indeed, she had mimed the lad far too long. Her knuckles met Roberta’s jaw with a solid thunk and with enough force to spin the larger woman about. Roberta stumbled away and collapsed into an overstuffed chair, instantly losing all desire to engage in further combat with her irascible cousin. Closing her eyes, she stayed carefully still.

Cole quickly stepped to the washstand, wet a cloth, and reached to dab at the small, red trickle of blood that ran from the corner of Alaina’s mouth, but she ducked away.

“Don’t touch me, Yankee!” she snarled the warning. “Just keep your hands to yourself.” She yanked the cloth from him and glowered. “You’ve done enough damage!”

With a last smug smirk at the recumbent Roberta, Alaina pulled the robe snugly about her and, spinning on her heel, made a haughty exit from the room, closing the door quite forcefully behind her.

Cole dampened another cloth and approached Roberta’s chair. She proved rather spritely herself as she snatched the rag from his hand and fairly flew to the mirror. Worriedly, she leaned close to inspect the damage and dabbed gingerly at the visible red mark on her jaw.

“Ohhh!” she wailed. “I’m marred for life! I’ll never be the same! She’s ruined my face!” Her eyes narrowed menacingly. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get even with that little bitch.”

“At the rate of exchange just witnessed, my dear,” Cole returned dryly, “I would suggest a careful approach to this matter of revenge, lest you find yourself hopelessly in debt.”

Roberta tossed her head arrogantly. “Lainie’s always been jealous of me. She’s always envied my beauty and, every chance she’s gotten, has tried to hurt me. If that little whore thinks she can get away with this—”

Cole firmly shut the window against the chill breeze. The main storm had moved away, leaving in its wake a light drizzle that splattered against the glass.

“Since she was the virgin in my bed and you were not, Roberta,” he smiled at her stiffly. “I would further suggest a more accurate choice of appellations. Those you toss about so casually have a way of coming home to roost.”

Roberta grew worried and fretful. “Whatever do you mean, Cole darling? What did Lainie tell you? You, of all people should know she can’t be trusted. Why, she even betrayed those poor, helpless prisoners—”

Cole looked at her sharply, and she stumbled to a mute halt. Scowling, he selected a pair of dry trousers from his wardrobe and jerked them on. “She told me nothing, Roberta. And you, my dear, of all people”—the words stung more on the return—“stand witness to the fact that Alaina had no part in that slaughter upriver.”

He removed a heavy woolen campaign shirt
from the armoire and as he slipped into it, Roberta searched his face for a hint of meaning.

“How would I know that?” she asked cautiously.

Cole paused in buttoning the shirt. “Is it so difficult to understand, madam? The simple truth is that Alaina was the woman I made love to that night—the only one. Therefore, my dear, it was you who played your dirty little trick on us.”

“That’s a lie!” Roberta panted and struggled to conjure some evidence to bear out her untruth. “A vicious lie! I tell you, Cole, Alaina has filled your head with lies! You were too drunk to remember, but—”

Roberta jumped in trepidation as Cole threw down his boots in front of the straight chair. “You do err, madam. I may have been drunk, but that I do remember.” He sat down to tug on the boots. “It always confused me because you were so different from the girl I held in my arms that night. But until this very evening, I could not imagine anyone else in this house being the one. At least, now I know the truth.”

Roberta accepted his words with dismay. What she had done was out in the open. Her greatest fear was that Cole would set her aside. Without his money, she would go back to a dowdy and boring existence. She would never go to Washington. She was distressed at the idea of being made the laughtingstock of all those drearily garbed widows she had haughtily snubbed.

Plaintively she held out her hands to Cole. “Oh, darling! I only did it because I loved you so much.” She decided a mild wringing of her hands and a confused countenance would enhance her plight. “Why, Cole, you just don’t know how I yearned for you.”
She smiled helplessly as she moved to him and slipped onto his lap. “I was beside myself when I found you had been with Lainie. I just couldn’t give you up without a fight.” She tugged at his hand and brought it to her breast. “Am I not more beautiful? Am I not more of a woman?”

Cole met her gaze without any warmth. “Madam, that little twit of a girl, for all her boyish mien, could give lessons on the art of being a woman at the local bawdy house.” He smiled dispassionately. “At least, she’s not afraid of a man mussing her hair.”

With an indignant gasp, Roberta shot to her feet and drew back her hand to strike him across the face. Cole’s eyes never wavered as they rested coldly upon her. But with the most recent experience still fresh in her mind, she thought better of it. She had other ways of cutting through a man.

“She must have proven herself an eager little beggar for you to remember her so well. But then, you seem to have a preference for lewd women, and I can imagine she performed her chores well.”

“Chores!” Cole laughed shortly. “Egads, it’s true! You approach making love as a labor!”

Roberta lifted her nose primly. “You don’t think a lady enjoys being pawed, do you?”

“If sharing some pleasure in the act of marriage is beyond the confines of a lady, then to hell with ladies!” Cole growled. He threw his leather case onto the bed before continuing ominously. “Whatever Alaina is, be assured it was her performance that night that snared you a husband.”

“What do you mean?” Roberta hotly insisted,
grabbing his sleeve and trying to turn him. “What do you mean?”

Cole faced her and leaned forward until Roberta was forced to sit quite abruptly in the overstuffed chair behind her. Disregarding the tapestry covering, he propped a booted foot on the seat beside her hips and, bracing an arm across his knee, bent down to meet her eyes squarely.

“The one thing that stood out from that night was the pleasure I had with that woman. So, whatever the reason you claim for plotting your trap, you have Alaina to thank for its success.”

“I don’t believe that,” Roberta scoffed. “As I remember it, Daddy took the matter entirely out of your hands.”

“Madam, I am a doctor, but then, I am also a soldier. Do you honestly think a doddering old man is going to frighten me witless? Whatever you might think, my dear, your father was not the most proficient of wardens. I might have escaped had I not gotten my mind entangled with those blissful moments I spent with Alaina.”

Roberta twisted her hands in honest dismay as Cole returned stoically to his packing. The silence dragged out an eternity, and she could not stand the suspense any longer. Almost tremulously, she asked, “Are you leaving me?”

“Never fear, my dear,” he smiled sardonically. “I will take you to Washington and parade you on my arm as is your wish. I’ve made my bed and I must lie in it.”

“Then where are you going?”

“General Banks is going on a campaign up the
Red River. Until a few moments ago, I was undecided as to whether I should volunteer. I have made my decision to go.”

“But you could be gone for months! What am I going to do in the meantime?”

Cole leisurely surveyed her ball gown as he hefted his case. “I’m sure you will find some form of entertainment in my absence. I can’t believe you’ll be greatly deterred from having a good time while I’m gone.”

“But, Cole,” she whined and followed him to the door where he paused to look at her. “What if something should happen to you? Are there not certain matters you should attend to before you go?”

“If you mean the arrangement of financial matters, my dear,” his tone was harsh, “I see no cause to leave my estate to you. You’ll be suitably cared for, and if there should be an heir, everything will be held in trust for the child by my lawyer. Otherwise, you’ll receive a monthly pension from my holdings.” He smiled briefly. “The rest will be donated to charity since there is no further kin.”

“What about Alaina?”

“That, madam, is none of your damned business,” he returned crisply.

Anxiously she stepped into the hall behind him. “But I’m your wife.”

“I’ll leave the buggy at the hospital, and when you get word we’ve moved out, you can send Jedediah for it,” he said, ignoring her statement. His eyes moved impassively toward Alaina’s closed door as he strode to the stairs. He could hear the click of Roberta’s sharp heels behind him and faced her at the head of the stairs. “You might brace yourself,
madam, for the move to Minnesota when the war is over.”

Roberta’s jaw sagged. “Minnesota! That godforsaken place? You can’t ask that of a gentle born lady!”

“Madam, I’m not asking. If you wish to go with me, that is your decision, but whatever, I’ve made up my mind.”

F
AR
to the northeast, the last squall line crouched like a low range of mountains and dissipated its angry energy with flashes of jagged light. The storm tumbled and roiled, grinding its way across the coastal swamps, moving away from the crystal clear sky of the western quadrant where the moon hung high and bright. In the hushed aftermath of the storm, mists rose from the rivers, lakes, and swamps until a dense blanket of fog lay over the entire Delta. From any lofty pinnacle in the main portion of the city, the tops of taller buildings and houses could be seen as great black boulders in a fretful channel of cottony white, and beyond them, the spidery rigging of topmasts marked where the Yankee fleet lay at anchor on the river.

Across the sleeping city, only a few blocks from the Craighughs’ house, Cole Latimer guided his horse and buggy through the eerie, luminescent mists, and the steady clip-clop of hooves and the rattle of wheels were the only sounds that rent the muffled shroud of silence. Tense-faced, he peered into the grayness and silently cursed his own addled brain. Over and over in his mind he berated himself for a fool. How could he have failed to recognize the difference between the two women? They were as
dissimiliar as east and west, or, he grimaced, maybe north and south.

He had traveled only a short distance when, in the haze ahead, he espied a dark shape flitting quickly across the road. It disappeared behind a large live oak that grew close upon the curb. As he drew near no other movement could be discerned, and cautious of being waylaid, Cole halted the buggy and drew his pistol.

“You there! Behind the tree!” he barked. “Step out where I can see you.”

Though a long moment passed, he received no response. Cole raised the gun, and the double click of the hammer being drawn back echoed sharply along the fog-endued avenue. He was about to call out again when grudgingly a small, slim black figure stepped into view. Cole quickly lowered the pistol, recognizing the trim form of the widow he and Jacques had shared an interest in. Holstering the gun, he tied the reins to the dashboard and stepped down. Politely he touched the brim of his hat as he neared the curb where she had stopped.

“Madam, it seems a foul night and a late hour for a lady to be about unprotected. May I give you assistance in any way?”

The black-bonneted head gave a negative reply, prompting Cole to wonder if everyone was bent on giving him mute answers.

“Do you wish to be taken somewhere, perhaps?”

Again the same movement of the head came as an answer. What else could Alaina do when the moment she uttered a word recognition would dawn with it. She cursed her luck and was beginning to
doubt that she would ever be rid of this Yankee. Everywhere she turned, he seemed to be there, ready to ensnare her.

Cole drew off his gauntlets and tucked them beneath his belt. “Madam, as a gentleman I can hardly leave you here without escort. I do not wish to pry, but if you will name a destination, I will deliver you there without further ado. I assure you most humbly that you need have no fear of me.”

Alaina scoffed in silent derision. If she could only change the character of her voice as easily as her garb, she would give him an answer. One he would not soon forget.

Cole reached into his shirt for a cigar, then searched in his pocket for a match. This had all the appearances of evolving into a long, decidedly one-sided conversation, and at the current rate of reciprocation, he would do just as well talking to himself.

“Shall we wait together then, madam?” he inquired dryly. “At least until you decide where I may take you. I give you my word, I won’t be going until I am assured of your safety.”

Inwardly, Alaina groaned her frustration as he reached back to strike the match on the metal frame of the buggy. The small light flared, and Cole turned to stand patiently in the street before her. He was about to touch the flame to his cheroot when the irritated tap of her toe against the curb drew his attention. His brow raised sharply as he realized the widow’s slight stature was just about the right size for Al—or Alaina. And that little chit—

His jaw clamped firmly on the cigar, he moved the match closer to her veiled bonnet and, with his
free hand, lifted the thin gossamer barrier. He stared into Alaina’s snapping gray eyes, forgetting the match until the heat of the flame seared into his fingers. Mouthing a startled oath, he flipped it away and shook his hand.

“Did you burn yourself, Captain?” Alaina patronizingly plied him.

“Yes!” he snapped irately, throwing the cigar into the gutter.

“He who plays with fire, Captain—” she chided. “Well you know the saying.”

“I have grown most cautious of wayward lads and warming pots,” he observed gruffly. “I shall have to lengthen the list to include widows and matches, or perhaps shorten it to one, Alaina MacGaren.”

“As you will, sir. But it was not my doing,” she reminded him. “You were the careless one.”

“I don’t suppose it has occurred to you that you might have told me what really happened that night?” he prodded ill-humoredly. “As I remember it, there was plenty of time for you to warn me before the consummation of the marriage.”

“But, Captain,” Alaina purred with a tight smile of malice. “You seemed so eager and content. How could I disturb such a blissful state?”

“Dammit, woman!” he barked, then cautiously lowered his voice. “Are you so simple that you cannot imagine why I married her?”

“Uncle Angus did have something to do with it, I believe,” she returned flippantly.

“Forgive me,” he snorted contemptuously. “for ever thinking that you and Roberta were so different. It seems, after all, that you both think alike.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Alaina questioned indignantly.

“Never mind,” he grumbled. “It shall be my everlasting secret. I doubt if you’d believe me anyway.” Irritated, he indicated her black gown. “Did you take time to pack anything? Or is this it?”

Alaina stepped behind the tree and brought forth her wicker case, but when she glanced up, she found the large, darkly clad form of Cole standing close in front of her. His arms were akimbo, and though the shadow of the wide-brimmed hat hid his face, she detected a note of disapproval in his stance.

“Miss MacGaren, I do not claim to be a gentleman of blood,” he stated firmly. “And you most certainly have never professed to be a lady. Nevertheless, let us, in common agreement, strive to portray ourselves as being both gracious and mannerly.” He stooped and took the valise from her hand. “If you please, mademoiselle.” He bowed, clicking his heels, and swept a hand about in an invitation for her to proceed.

Pricked by his rebuff, Alaina tossed her head and adjusted her woolen shawl more securely around her shoulders. She could well do without this Yankee’s advice or assistance. If he wanted the case so badly, she’d leave it with him and make her own way unencumbered through the night. Indeed, she had every intention of walking away from him, but the gutter directly in front of her was filled with water, and she could not easily step across it unless she turned toward him. Lifting her skirts almost to her knees, she drew back a foot, preparing to leap the obstacle. But of a sudden, the night lurched askew, and she was swept from her feet by iron-
thewed arms and clasped against a broad, hard chest she remembered far too well.

“How dare you!” she gasped. “Let me go! Put me down!”

“Try harder at being a lady then,” Cole admonished, showing not the slightest inclination to obey her. His long stride easily cleared the moat as he mockingly lectured her on the proprieties of being a lady. “A gentlewoman would hardly display her ankles so readily nor carry her own valise when a gentleman is present.”

“And do you suggest that a gentleman would handle a lady so rudely?” she scoffed with rancor, yet she deigned to put an arm about his neck and, with a small movement, settled herself more securely in that not unwelcomed cradle. “I declare that in spite of the many threats against his person, Al was treated more gently than this. Perhaps I chose the wrong disguise. You would no doubt have been more at ease with the lad.”

“That may be,” he murmured distantly and paused beside the buggy. “But I mightily favor your present form above that of scarecrow boy.”

His face was so close, Alaina had no difficulty discerning its every detail, and the soft, lazy smile it bore awoke burning memories that, while thrilling, were also most disturbing. The shivery warmth that ran through her completely disrupted her composure. She turned her own face away and thus betrayed the sudden blush that would have gone unseen in the misty darkness.

“Captain, if you please—” She struggled to set a foot to ground. “Your everlasting fondling wears on me. And you, if I dare remind you, are a married man.”

Cole placed her quite ungently upon the buggy seat, his anger once more kindled. “A fact which weighs more certainly upon your discretion than mine, Miss MacGaren.”

He passed to the rear of the carriage, tossed the wicker case into the boot beside his own baggage, and jerked the canvas cover over them. He returned to her sight and lit another cheroot with quick, taut movements, the flare of the sulfur match displaying a frowning, pensive visage. Alaina glanced away, reading his ire, and slid across the seat to make room for him. As he lifted a foot to the step, however, she placed a hand upon the tufted leather, and when he glanced up in wonder at her delaying gesture, she smiled condescendingly.

“I do miss the case between us, Captain.”

“Is it magical, then, that it will protect your virtue?” His tone grew curt. “Shall I fetch it?”

Demurely Alaina folded her hands in her lap and stared down at them. Her voice was soft and low but almost a scream in the misty darkness. “What virtue, Captain?”

His answer was an explosive, “Damn!”

Finding no better comment, Cole mounted into the seat and lifted the reins. After a long moment, he dropped them again and leaned back, resting a booted foot on the dashboard. “You have not yet named your destination, Miss MacGaren. This does make it rather difficult to proceed.”

“I have no place in mind, Captain,” she confessed. “I’ve precious little coin to squander for lodging, as you may well know. I had hoped that perhaps Doctor Brooks might afford me a night’s shelter.”

“I still have my apartment at the Pontalba place,” Cole informed her tersely. “Since I shall be absent for some weeks, you are welcome to make use of it. At least, it would offer you privacy and some time to settle your circumstances.”

Alaina jerked her head up with curt laughter. “Of course, Captain, and in those weeks I shall become well established as your paramour. When you return, it will take but a moment or two to bring that fact into being. Oh, wherefore art thou, gentle man?”

“Dammit, girl!” Cole seized the reins again and slapped the horse into motion. “The dregs of your virtue are the greatest stumbling block my temper has ever known.” He glared down at her. “I feel most deeply the burden of your present distress and accept that it is in the greater part my fault. I offered the apartment only with the kindest intent.” He clamped his teeth down hard on the cigar but, after a pause, continued. “I’ve had enough of your pettish mewling. You’ll stay there, and I will hear no further argument.”

Alaina met his dark scowl with a heated glower, but she held her silence, neither yielding nor denying. For a time they wove the streets in stilted truce, while Cole smoked his cigar and let his irritation ebb, finding in its place much provender for thought. Alaina was startled from her own musings by his brief, dry chuckle that did not lend itself to humor but rather some unspoken vexation.

“The night besets you, Captain?” she ventured.

“It has come to mind, Miss MacGaren, that in the past few months three people have entered and affected my life. They had no face I could define,
yet each bore the mark of this war. First, there was the ragged boy driven from his home and, I thought, well in need of my attention. Then, I came across a convincingly wayward wench who seared her brand upon my mind and left me searching for a face and a form. And lastly, there was the widow who, though well veiled, had a shape so refined that it stirred my imagination and made me seek her out.” He glanced aside at Alaina. “Now I find they are all one and the same. Tell me, Miss MacGaren, am I the richer or the poorer for my new-found knowledge?”

Alaina’s frown gradually softened into a bittersweet smile as she stared straight into the mists. “Has it yet been put to pen, Captain, that war is hell?”

The buggy passed on in the darkness, the wheels whirling over the cobbled avenue, the steady clatter of hooves rattling, the seat squeaking, but no further word was spoken between the two as they jounced along. The streets were deserted; the ferocity of the storm had driven even the drunkards to shelter, and for a brief time, in this small hour of the morning, it seemed a city devoid of life.

Cole drew rein and halted the buggy in front of the red brick structure where he had once resided. He stepped down, retrieved her valise, and came around to help her down. She sat stiff and rigid on the seat, and he saw her fine-boned profile tilted obstinately to betray her mutinous thoughts. He could not help but wonder at the grit of this young woman. He had known no other quite like her, and the disturbing fact was that she seemed capable of disrupting his whole life no matter what character she portrayed.

“Are you going to be difficult, Miss MacGaren?” he questioned and recognized the cool disdain of those clear, gray eyes as they turned upon him.

“Is it your desire to see me packed off to Ship Island, Captain?” she asked in a low, hushed voice.

Cole braced a hand on the dashboard and stared at her with a puzzled frown. “I think not. I know you to be innocent of at least part of the charges.”

“Then I implore you, sir. Give me some other title. I fear my own is being bandied about in a most frightful manner.”

“Of course.” He touched the brim of his hat obligingly. “My apologies, madam. I shall be more careful.” She could see the shadow of a smile playing across his lips. “Do you have a preference in the matter?”