Lori Austin (4 page)

Six

Seth watched her go, the white nightdress trailing out behind her with the wind. The baby, content and sleeping in his arms, kept him from chasing after Ella and kissing her as he wanted to.

She’d wanted the kiss, too. He’d seen it in the way her lips had parted, the way her eyes had lowered to his mouth and clung, the way her breath had quickened, making the soft, full mounds of her breasts rise and fall with a tantalizing rhythm.

She was a beautiful girl. Of course he wanted her. But why would she want him?

As Ella had said over and over again, he was the enemy. She hated him on principle, and she didn’t even know the full extent of his perfidy—that he’d participated in the very battle which had killed Henry Elliot. That his family, his legacy, his wealth was based on so much death.

What would she say if she knew everything? He had a pretty good idea.

Ella was a Southern woman. They were tough, loyal, and stubborn as the old mules she’d once compared him to. Even if she was attracted to him physically, that didn’t mean a thing. She’d die a slow, painful death before she’d admit the feeling, let alone act upon it. She would never let him touch her, take her and make her his.

He’d been here three weeks, and the older children still looked at him as if they expected him to breathe fire from his nose or develop a sudden craving for blood.

Seth gazed down at the sleeping baby. Only Gaby was innocent enough to see the man inside the Yankee. He couldn’t explain how much she meant to him, how deeply he adored her for that alone.

The cool breeze, the scent of the apple tree, the acres upon acres of land that were his soothed Seth as nothing else ever had. The pace here was slower, the countryside quieter. The loudest noises were the cries of children.

Since he’d come to Winchester, he’d had no recurrence of the frightening fits he’d endured in Boston. Even the cannon fire that lived inside his head had stilled. Perhaps this place was all that he’d needed to heal.

He had no job, no friends, no future. He didn’t belong here.

So why did it feel as if he did?

***

When Ella reached the house, Cal stood on the porch. He contemplated her with a somber expression. Had he seen her with the major?

What if he had? Nothing had happened. Not that she hadn’t wanted it to.

The thought brought her up short. She could not, would not, be attracted to this man. He wasn’t going to stay.

Seth Torrance did not belong here. He might play at taking care of his friend’s children and farm, but he wasn’t a farmer and he never would be. Sooner or later he’d go back to where he had come from and leave his toys behind. She didn’t plan to be one of them.

“I don’t like him.” Cal stared at the distant silhouette of a man holding a child beneath the apple tree.

Ella climbed the porch steps and put her hand on Cal’s shoulder. Poor child, unable to be a child, forced too soon to be a man. But he was only one of a thousand others just the same.

He must have grown two inches in the last month. Thank goodness Seth had the money to buy Cal new clothes. What would she have done if he hadn’t come to help?

Ella put that thought out of her head, too. She could not depend on Seth. She could not depend on anyone but herself. If she did, she’d only be disappointed.

“He’s not for you to like or not, Cal.” She pulled him closer and smiled softly when he let her. “He’s your guardian, and he’s here to stay until he decides to go.”

“And when he does, will everything go back to the way that it was?”

Frowning, Ella tilted her head so she could see his face—eager and hopeful in the moonlight. “The way that it was when, sweetie?”

“When just the six of us were here. I liked it then. Didn’t you?”

Thinking back, Ella didn’t miss the time when there was barely enough food, no money to get more, carpetbaggers strolling down the lane any old time, and deserters or worse slinking about ready to take what little they had left. She’d been scared every minute before Seth showed up.

Though she’d been able to take care of them with the aid of her guns, Seth was a battle-seasoned soldier. His eyes scanned the horizon whenever he stepped outside. He wore his Colt as if he knew what to do with it, handled his rifle the same way. She hadn’t realized how safe she felt just having him near.

And that scared her so badly she blurted, “Yes. I liked it then, too.”

“I can make him go.”

The quiet, sure statement made Ella blink. “What? What do you mean?”

“If me and the others put our heads together, we can make him hightail it all the way back to where he came from. He isn’t going to stay, Ella. Better he goes now than after she gets too attached to him, don’t you think?”

His gaze rested on her face so intently that for an instant Ella wondered if he could see into her thoughts. He’d put them into words so well. Somehow she didn’t think Cal was just talking about Gaby when he used the word “she.”

Ella glanced at the apple tree where Seth still stood with the baby. She frowned.

When had she begun to think of him as Seth rather than the major? She couldn’t recall, and that in itself wasn’t good. When she thought of him as the major, she could remember he was the enemy. But Seth? He seemed more and more like a friend.

She looked at Cal once more. “Yes,” she murmured. “Better that he go now than later. Before she gets too attached.”

As Ella went inside, she considered that it might already be too late for her.

***

Seth awoke to a din reminiscent of the Battle at the Wilderness. He leaped from the bed, knocked his beleaguered knee against his new nightstand, and stumbled into the hallway. A bucket of icy water hit him full in the face.

As he stood there sputtering, drowning, trying to get his breath, the noise stopped. When he opened his eyes he found the four eldest Elliot children staring at him. Predictably, Cal held the empty bucket.

“What—what—what was that for?” he managed.

“Cat fight,” Cal said simply. “Only way to get ’em to stop is to toss some water on ’em.”

“Cats?” Seth glanced around the hall. “What cats?”

Cal shrugged. “They were here a minute ago. Weren’t they?”

Joshua, Elizabeth, and Delia all nodded, but none of them spoke. Seth narrowed his eyes, opened his mouth, and the baby began to cry.

“Never mind,” he said. “Where’s Ella?”

“Makin’ bekfast,” Elizabeth said.

“All right. Run along and eat. Tell her I’ll bring Gaby.”

He hurried into the baby’s room, dripping all the way. As he quickly crossed to the crib, first one foot, then the other, came down on something hard, round and mobile. He scrambled for purchase, lost, and landed on his butt—hard. Gaby’s crying stopped and she giggled.

Marbles were strewn across the scarred wood planks. Seth tightened his lips, got to his feet, and rubbed his bruised behind.

Ten minutes later, he and Gaby entered the kitchen. Ella glanced over her shoulder. The mere sight of her brought back everything he’d felt last night—awareness, tenderness, desire.

She appeared as beautiful in the sunlight as she had by the light of the moon. While she worked, the skirt of her dress swayed provocatively, drawing his gaze to her soft curves. The hem played hide-and-seek with her ankles. She wore no shoes, as usual. And while his mother would think this made her common, Seth only thought it made her Ella.

Meeting her, knowing her, touching her had brought color and sound and light back to his life. The inertia that had plagued him in Boston was no more.

“What was all the racket up there?” she asked, her voice brisk, all business, as if they’d never stood half naked in the night.

Seth looked at each child. They stared back with brown-eyed innocence. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he answered.

Three children glanced away. Only Cal held his gaze. But then, Seth had known Cal was the one to watch all along. He’d invaded the boy’s territory, just as the North had invaded the South.

Which was why the war had dragged on for four long years, despite the Union’s far superior resources of money, munitions, and men. When a country was invaded, the citizens were honor bound to fight back and fight back hard.

But Seth had begun to think of this as his place and these kids, despite their hostility, as his, too. He hadn’t lost a fight yet. He didn’t plan to lose this one.

He took his chair. Something squalled and struggled beneath him. Seth jumped up as a huge black cat shot across the room and out the open back door.

“Told you there was a cat,” Cal muttered.

Ella choked, coughed, and put her napkin to her lips—no doubt to hide a smile.

Seth had to struggle not to smile back. Cal was clever and he kept a cool head. Even now, the boy ate his breakfast as if he hadn’t just masterminded the morning. Still, he would have to do better than this to get rid of Seth Torrance.

“I need to go into town.” Ever since he’d arrived, Seth had been meaning to stop by the attorney’s office and pick up a copy of Henry’s will and any other pertinent papers pertaining to the children and the farm. “Anyone want to take a ride with me?”

He figured no one would, but it didn’t hurt to ask. He was surprised when Cal got slowly to his feet. “Me and Delia will go.”

The boy wouldn’t meet Seth’s eyes. What did the little terror have planned for him now?

He considered changing into one of his suits to meet with the attorney. He’d been wearing Henry’s work clothes for the past several weeks, and while they had felt odd at first, now he was more comfortable in the loose trousers and shirts that had been washed soft through years of wear than he was in his own things. Seth didn’t care if he ever put on a suit again. So he plopped his wide-brimmed straw hat onto his head and herded the two children out to the wagon.

The trip into town was uneventful. Delia sang a song about a pony at the top of her lungs and just a tad short of the correct key all the way there. Since it kept her entertained, and him as well, Seth let her. Cal merely stared straight ahead and ignored him. Perhaps that was for the best, though Seth couldn’t help but wonder what deviousness he was plotting behind those somber eyes.

Once in town, however, Cal spoke up. “Can I buy Delia some candy, Major? She’s never had none before.”

The utter joy on the little girl’s face made Seth feel guilty for suspecting Cal of hatching a new plot. The poor girl had never had candy, a situation that must be rectified immediately.

“Of course. Let’s get her some right away.”

He stepped toward the store, but Cal laid a hand on his arm. “No need for you to go. Best you do your errand whilst I get the candy. These days it isn’t a good idea to leave the women and children alone for too long.”

The reminder of the still dangerous nature of the countryside cast a chill over the warm summer day. But Cal was right.

The boy had seen his share of bad things, which had forced him to grow up too quickly. Seth only hoped he could give him back some of the childhood that had been stolen away. Candy was a step in the right direction.

“I’ll just head over to Mr. Blair’s office, then.” He reached into his pocket and handed Cal more than enough money for candy. “Get yourself a treat, too, and some for the rest at home.”

In lieu of a thank-you, Cal nodded, took Delia’s hand, and disappeared into the general store.

Within a half an hour they were on their way home. Delia slurped on gumdrops, which kept her from singing. Cal continued to stare.

“Don’t you want to eat your candy?” Seth asked.

“No, Major. I’m gonna save mine.”

Seth wanted to ask why, but he doubted Cal would tell him.

“You could call me Seth if you like,” he offered.

“No, sir, I couldn’t.” Cal went back to contemplating the breeze.

Seth had hoped a day together and a little bit of sugar would soften the boy. He should have known better.

Seven

Seth skirted the apple tree and strolled through the blackened fields. He knelt in the dirt, sifted some through his fingers. He wished that he knew more about farming, but he didn’t.

He glanced back at the house. The afternoon was proving as uneventful as the morning, which only made Seth nervous. Cal must be planning something extraordinarily devious if he was behaving himself for this long.

Ella had put Gaby down for a nap. When he’d left, she’d still been howling her displeasure, so Ella had taken the others outside for their lessons. He could see four blond heads and one dark one beneath the shade of the elm tree in the yard.

Ella had proved to be an excellent teacher. The children adored her and did things for her they wouldn’t do for anyone else. As a result, they were making great progress in their studies.

Seth smiled at the picture they made. He was due to return home in one week. He didn’t want to go. But he’d come to fulfill a duty. He would have to return to Boston for the same reason.

Afternoon faded to evening. Supper went smoothly. The children thanked him for the candy, though he’d seen none but Delia eating it. Everyone headed for bed without argument. Seth sat on the porch expecting . . . Lord knew what.

But nothing happened.

He heard Ella through the open window upstairs, murmuring to the baby. From the girls’ room he caught traces of a whisper, from the boys’ nothing at all. They must be asleep.

When all sounds ceased, he climbed the stairs, hesitated in the hall. Tempted to look in on them, he resisted. He didn’t dare start treating them like his or he’d never be able to leave.

He cast one longing glance at Ella’s room and forced himself to go to bed. If he touched her as he wanted to even once, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

Sleep came quickly; the dreams followed. Rebs snuck into the perimeter. He heard them whispering from the tall grass, sensed them creeping ever closer, the thud of their muted footsteps a death knell.

This had happened before—another time, another place. Mayhem. Murder. Too many of his men and theirs lost forever. He hated the war, hated the necessity as well as the horrific waste. Hated the most his presence in the middle of such strife.

When the first shot sounded, Seth sat up in bed. Darkness surrounded him. He didn’t know where he was; he only knew that they were coming.

With a roar, he leaped to his feet, reaching for the gun at his hip that was not there.

Another shot sounded behind him, then another to his left, to his right. He whirled, flinched, put his hands to his ears, but the shots continued. Faster, louder, they confused and terrified him.

Icy sweat dewed his skin. His belly lurched. He feared he’d disgrace himself right there on the battlefield. Where in hell were his Colts, his rifle?

A thud in the darkness made his heart pound faster. Light poured from an unknown source, illuminating his pistols. He dived for them.

Someone shouted his name, grabbed his wrist just as he reached for a gun.

Another shot was fired, this one so close the scent of gunpowder filled his nose. With a roar of fury, Seth yanked the intruder forward, and together they tumbled to the ground.

Ella fell on top of Seth. Thankfully the guns remained on the nightstand.

He struggled beneath her, shouting, “To your posts, soldiers! We’re under attack.”

“It’s me. Ella.” She tugged at her arm, but he held on too tightly. “Let me go.”

Instead, he flipped over, pinning her beneath him with the long, hard, heavy length of his body, then yanking her hands over her head. One of his legs slid around hers, aligning them center to center.

Ella’s eyes widened. “Oh, my,” she murmured.

“Ella?” Cal’s voice came from down the hall. “You all right?”

Dear God, the children! She had to keep them from seeing Seth like this. They’d be so frightened.

“Stay in your rooms,” she ordered. “Don’t come out no matter what you hear.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue, Cal! The major’s ill. I’ll take care of him.”

Doors closed and she relaxed—at least as much as she could with Seth plastered to her. His breath was labored, as if he’d just run a mile in the heated air, the movement rubbing his chest against hers in the slow, sensuous, rhythmic manner of a forbidden dance.

Ella shook off the desire to explore such sensations further. Something was wrong with him. Now was not the time to wonder if his lips were as soft as they looked, his kiss as seductive as his chest.

She peered into Seth’s face. His gaze darted around the room, searching for something. But what?

The loud pops that had awakened her even before his shouts had sounded like gunfire. But when she’d entered the room, he’d just been reaching for his gun. If someone had shot from outside, they’d be inside by now. So what had happened?

“Are you all right?” she whispered.

He was trembling. Sweat beaded his brow. The hands that held hers prisoner were ice cold.

Ella frowned. He was scared half to death.

She knew what to do about that. The children had nightmares all the time and woke very much like this.

“Hush,” she murmured. “You’re safe. Nothing will hurt you now.”

Her gentle tone must have reached him, for he blinked, then shifted his gaze from the shadows to hers. He still did not seem to know her. His eyes remained cloudy, in another time, another place. But he let go of her wrists, so she touched his face.

Stubble scraped her fingertips as she caressed his jaw. She ran her hands through his shaggy, soft hair, kneaded the tense cords of his neck, whispered, “You’re all right, you’re all right,” ten times before he kissed her.

Boys had stolen kisses behind the barn, at a dance. She’d rapped every one with her knuckles or her fan and put a stop to such familiarity in an instant.

Jamie had always said good night in a chaste and proper manner. They’d had a lifetime for intimate embraces, or so they had thought.

Of course, if Jamie had ever kissed her as if he were ice cold and she was a flame, if he had ever nibbled her lips, sucked her tongue, explored her mouth with his body pressed to the length of hers, she might have fainted.

Or begged for more.

Her fingers tangled in Seth’s hair, holding him close. Her mouth opened; her tongue danced with his. Desperate whimpers clawed at the back of her throat. Her breasts, beneath the light cotton of her nightdress, ached and throbbed, wanting, needing his touch. Where he was pressed against her down low felt too good to abandon, so she arched against him, and bright lights flared behind her closed eyes.

What was happening to her?

A moment later he ended the kiss and his forehead dropped to hers. His hair brushed her cheek. She held him as his heart slowed, and his breathing evened out along with hers.

“Did I hurt you?”

His hoarse voice startled her. She recalled hating Seth’s voice when he had first come here. Now she missed the strong yet gentle tones, lost to terrors she could not even imagine.

“Of course not,” she said briskly, though it was hard to be so nonchalant with him still pressed intimately against her. “You would never hurt me.”

He sighed and rolled away, sitting up with his back against the bed. Feeling foolish, Ella did the same. He inched away from her just a bit, as if afraid she would touch him. That hurt after what they had just shared.

What hurt even more was the guilt that flared to life as the passion thrumming in her blood dissipated. She had never felt such things for Jamie—the man she had sworn to marry, the man whose children she had promised to bear. How could she feel them for the enemy?

“I don’t know what I might do when I’m like this,” Seth muttered. “I’d hoped the spells were gone, but I guess not.”

“This has happened before?”

“Ever since the war. But usually it’s a loud noise that makes me forget where I am. I must be worse instead of better to have lost my place in the middle of a peaceful night.”

“No.” Ella shook her head. “There
was
a loud noise. Several, in fact. They woke me, too.”

She stood and lit the lamp. Scattered across the floor were the remnants of several firecrackers. Their eyes met.

“Cal,” they said together.

Ella sighed. The boy had gone too far.

“I’ll talk to him,” she muttered. “This is my fault.”

“Why?” He shoved his fingers through his damp hair, mussing it more than she already had. “Did you declare war? Send me off to fight it? Make me so weak I couldn’t take the death and the destruction?”

“You think you’re weak because the war haunts you? If it didn’t, I’d be worried.”

His lips twitched but he didn’t smile. “Then why is this your fault?”

“I encouraged Cal to harass you.” Ella looked away. “I wanted you to leave. It wasn’t very adult of me. I’m sorry. But I never suspected he’d do something like this.”

“Even if you had, how could you know gunfire would make me lose my senses?” He snorted. “Hell, I still can’t believe it.”

She should say good night, pretend the kiss had never happened, then escape to her room, but she couldn’t. She’d held Seth in her arms as he trembled, touched her mouth to his as he shook. She could not just walk away and leave him alone. So Ella sat on the floor once more, closer this time, and he did not move away.

“I’m sure these spells will fade with time,” she offered.

“I thought so, too.”

“The war’s been over only a few months. You can’t expect to forget four years of horror so quickly.”

“What if—” He stopped.

“What?”

“What if I never forget? What if I’m always like this?”

“What if you are? There are worse things, Seth. Much worse.”

It was the first time she’d called him by his given name out loud. She discovered that she liked the sound of it on her lips nearly as much as she liked his lips. Would she ever stop thinking about that kiss? Not likely.

“Do you know where I get all my money?”

She blinked at the sudden change of subject. “What?”

“My money. My family is the proud owner of Torrance Munitions. We’re very well off. But then, there’s always a need for instruments of destruction.”

Ella didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t wanted the largesse he’d brought to them because it was Yankee charity. Now, knowing the charity had been bought with money made from killing her countrymen, she wanted it even less.

However, seeing Seth in the throes of his pain had shown her a new and disturbing truth. He had suffered the same as any Confederate soldier. Death and destruction did not pick and choose. Nightmares came to them all.

“You can’t help what your family does for a living. But you don’t have to keep doing it.”

He shook his head. “All my life it’s been understood that I’d take over. I went to West Point. That’s what men in my family do. The only thing I’ve been trained for is killing and building things made to kill. I hate it.”

She didn’t know what to tell him. But now that he’d begun to talk, he didn’t seem to need any encouragement from her to continue.

“I was at Saylor’s Creek.”

Ella glanced at him. “So were a lot of people.”

“For all I know, I might have been the one to kill Henry.”

“And you might not have been.”

He glanced at her in surprise, and she made a sound of derision.

“Did you think I was going to pick up a stone, or maybe that gun? Seems to me you’re a doing a fine job of flaying yourself alive over something you couldn’t stop.” Ella spread her hands. “You think if you hadn’t picked up a gun they wouldn’t have fought? You think if your family wasn’t making munitions they’d have all laid down their weapons and shaken hands?”

“No.” He sighed. “Of course not. But—” He rubbed his face. His palm scraped over the stubble on his chin. “What shall I tell the children?”

“Nothing. What possible good would it do to tell them? Henry was . . . well, I’m sure you know. If it weren’t Saylor’s Creek, it would have been another battle. If not the war, then something else. Henry was like a falling star—bright, brilliant, and set to burn out very young.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t argue, either. Ella wasn’t sure why she felt the need to comfort him. Perhaps because, as she’d said, he was doing such a good job of torturing himself.

“I want to make sure everything will be all right here before I go,” he said quietly. “But you don’t have to worry. I
will
go.”

Suddenly his leaving held very little appeal. Unable to stop herself, Ella reached for Seth’s hand and laced her fingers with his. “But not yet,” she whispered.

He hesitated an instant. Then his hand tightened on hers. “No, not yet.”