The Men of Pride County: The Rebel (8 page)

Blushing awkwardly, Juliet glowered at him. “Really, Papa, such things you say. You’re not going to lose me.”

He sighed dramatically. “Kind of you to say, daughter, but totally untrue. You’ll find some dashing young man to replace me in your heart, and I shall be back to eating from the army kitchen.”

Her stare riveted to her chipped china plate, Juliet struggled against the humiliation heating her face. “If you continue embarrassing me like this, Father, you may find yourself standing in line with a plate tomorrow.”

“She means it, too,” Crowley laughed. “Gentlemen, for the sake of my palate, let’s turn our talk to something else.”

While Miles went on to give a detailed report on raiding party activities, Juliet risked a quick glance at Noble. He was listening intently to the conversation between the other two men and unaware of her interest. Feeling safe to allow a longer minute of study, Juliet’s gaze lingered over the symmetry of his features: the lean, sculpted line of cheek and jaw, the raven blackness of cropped hair and heavy brows, the startling blue of his pale eyes. And the surprising soft and supple bend of lips that shifted expressively in response to what was being said—pursing, curling, thinning, even as his stare remained unblinking.

And as she watched, fascinated by those
mobile twists, the tip of his tongue edged out to slide along the seam of his mouth, leaving a moist trail that had her breath suddenly shuddering. There would be nothing stiff or dry if he were to …

The corners of his mouth took a slight upward turn.

Aghast, Juliet lifted her gaze to find him staring directly at her from across the table. How could he have missed the hungering way she perused his lips as she imaged the feel of them upon her own? Caught in the midst of her fantasizing, she had only two choices. She could look away in shame or she could brazen it out as if she’d done nothing wrong.

She’d never learned to stomach a skulking retreat.

When she met his stare with an unapologetic one of her own, a gleam of appreciation heated the chill blue depths of his eyes. That warmth increased to an uncomfortable level, which finally forced Juliet into turning away as if indifferent. While she returned to her potatoes, he covered his chuckle with what might have been the clearing of his throat.

She didn’t make the mistake of risking eye contact with him again.

Keeping her imagination tightly leashed through the remainder of their meal, Juliet had recovered enough of her composure to extend her hand and offer a faint smile when Noble thanked her for the dinner as he readied to leave.

Instead of a polite press of her fingers, Noble lifted them, bending to meet them half way. His breath blew warm over the back of her hand, exciting a shiver from wrist to shoulder. He did more than touch a proper kiss to her knuckles. Beneath the leisurely caress of his lips, he drew lightly on her skin, then devastated her with the slow stroke of his tongue behind the ridge of her knuckles. It was all discreetly done under her father’s nose.

By the time Noble straightened, Juliet could scarcely control her trembling. She stared into his eyes, mesmerized by his unblinking intensity. Her fingers curled about his in an almost desperate panic until he smiled with a formal remoteness and said, “Good night, Miz Crowley. Again, my thanks for the hospitality.”

It was an effort to force her fingers open so that he could slip his hand free. If they’d been alone, she’d have never let him go until his actions had been explained. What explanation could there be? He was mocking her for her attitude of uninterest, making her weaken before her own desires.

And she did desire him. For all the wrong reasons. And perhaps for some of the right ones.

If her father chose to be blind to her dazed behavior, Miles wasn’t as obliging. She intercepted his tight scrutinizing glare and tried to defuse it with a wan smile. He wasn’t fooled.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” she managed in a
somewhat normal voice. “I’ll clear the table and leave you to your cigars.”

Her china plates almost didn’t survive the distance between the main room and the kitchen. The shaking of her hands had them clattering together by the time she slid them into a basin of soapy water. She leaned there against the dry sink for a long moment, as chills rattled along her bones and her skin felt feverishly hot.

So this was what it was like to lust after a man. She took a deep breath and tried to observe the sensations dispassionately. Her heart pounded and her chest felt tight. The rhythm of her breathing came out of sync. All because she’d imagined the taste of his lips and was teased by his indecent kiss upon her hand. There the skin still tingled and the reason why made her all the more breathless.

She’d read about it, of course, in books her father never would have ordered for her had he known of their content. She knew one could expect basic man-woman responses on a level both powerful and primitive, but she’d been unprepared to experience those feelings herself—at least not with a man like Noble Banning, a man she’d sworn to dislike on general principles alone.

But the truth was, she didn’t dislike him. She didn’t trust him, but she couldn’t despise him. Whether that was because of her weakness for his handsome face or her respect for his sharp mind didn’t matter. What mattered
was that the feelings were totally inappropriate and her father would most likely lock her away if he knew of them. When he spoke of losing her to another man, he certainly hadn’t meant a man like his Southern second in command.

With her thoughts under control and when her hands were steady, Juliet returned for the glassware and table services only to be caught up in the topic of discussion.

“You plan to keep them under guard, of course.”

Her father gave Miles a bland look. “They’ve done nothing to deserve such treatment.”

“They’re Southerners, sir, traitors. That sly devil sat here all during dinner measuring you for the best place to put a bullet.”

“Miles,” rumbled a word of warning. But he refused to heed it.

“We’ve given them guns, horses, the very means to slay us and escape into the night. What’s to stop them from killing us all in order to return to their homes?”

“Banning gave me his word.”

“His word? John, are you insane?”

“Careful, Major Dougherty. My daughter asked the same thing, but it’s not within my power to court martial
her
.”

“What makes you think you can take that man’s word? He’s betrayed the very Union we fight to protect. What makes you believe he’ll risk his life for it now?”

“He told me he would. And I choose to believe him until he gives me reason to believe otherwise.”

“Colonel, you’re placing your men in danger, and your daughter as well.”

Crowley’s features darkened. “You are out of line, sir. I have the utmost respect for Banning, as do his men for him. Please do not force this issue further or I will lose mine for you.”

Dougherty immediately snapped to stiff attention. “I beg your pardon, sir. And I wish you a good evening.” He unbent slightly. “Thank you for the meal, Juliet.”

Juliet nodded, but her silence gave Miles no excuse to linger.

“Papa, he’s concerned for us all,” Juliet said when they were alone. “Haven’t you wondered if he’s right to worry? You know I do.”

“No, Jules. I can’t afford to second-guess my decisions. Banning gave me his word—and I then gave him mine that he and his men would be treated with the respect due soldiers of our United States Army. I’ll not leg-shackle them like criminals and be suspicious of their every move. Miles is just—”

“Just what?”

Crowley sighed. “He’s jealous of an officer who outranks him and who he fears may surpass him in my favor.”

“And would he be right?” She posed the question casually, as if she spoke only of rank and not of other areas of competition.

“Miles Dougherty is a fine officer. I wish I had ten more like him.”

“And Banning?”

“If I had ten more like him, I could bring the hostiles to their knees.”

And so answered her question of whom he favored.

“Be careful, Papa.”

“You think Banning would like me dead?”

She looked uncomfortable but that didn’t curb her observation. It never did. “I’m saying he has every reason to wish it.”

Crowley nodded. He wasn’t a careless or a foolish man. He had to know the danger of housing the enemy under their same roof. Caution and wisdom went hand in hand.

“And you would be right.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “Good night, my dear. Try to put your fears aside for a good night’s sleep.”

“Don’t worry,” she said wryly. “I don’t think Major Banning has any intention of sneaking into my room to slit my throat tonight.”

She wouldn’t admit it, even to herself.

What she feared was his ability to slip into her dreams to do worse.

Chapter 6

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot echoing too loudly to have come from anywhere but inside the house woke Juliet from a restless dream of ice-blue eyes and tempting kisses.

Papa!

She rolled from bed and snatched her Navy Colt off the floor, checking the chambers as she raced into the front room. Experience had taught her to be ready for anything, and with her heart in her throat, she greeted whatever waited pistol barrel first.

Her father was lifting himself up off the army-blanket rug. He, too, had pistol in hand. A quick assessment revealed a broken front window and no threatening assailant.

“Papa, are you all right? What happened?”

The colonel studied her for a long, silent moment, then managed a chagrined smile. About that time, Miles, Noble Banning, and the colonel’s aide crowded in through the
front door, each armed and alert. Their superior’s embarrassment increased as he included them all in the explanation.

“I feel like a green fool,” he muttered. “I was cleaning my revolver, tripped on that damned rug, and threw a shot through the window.”

Juliet rushed to embrace him, holding tight to control her own trembling as she scolded, “Papa, how could you be so careless? You nearly scared ten years off us.”

“I’m sorry, daughter. Gentlemen, you may return to your rooms. Please assure the men that all is well and tell them to go back to sleep.”

As the group of officers drew relieved breaths and her own frantic fears eased, Juliet’s attention was drawn to the splendid sight of Noble Banning wearing nothing more than his uniform trousers. What made her heart race then had nothing to do with distress. Her wide gaze canvassed the rugged expanse of muscled shoulders and heavily black-furred chest, her hands itching to survey that awesome terrain with the same leisure her stare allowed.

Then she glanced up into his face and salacious thoughts were derailed. Curiously, she followed the direction of his intense focus to a littering of glass shards upon the floor. She looked for a moment, not making sense of what she saw, until she realized that with the
glass on the inside, the bullet would have had to come from without.

Her father hadn’t fired the shot she heard. It had been fired at him.

So why hadn’t he said so?

Juliet took the revolver from the colonel’s hand, saying, “I’ll just take this before you shoot off your own foot.” He released it with reluctance and she immediately knew why.

The chamber was cool, its rounds in place, its cartridges never discharged.

He’d lied not only to his men, but also to her. And she was anxious to hear his explanation. Who was her father trying to protect with his silence? And why?

She was left to draw her own conclusions, for as soon as the others left, her father held up a hand to forestall her questions.

“To bed, Jules. It’s been a long, trying day for us all. Tomorrow is soon enough to plague me for my carelessness.” There was no mistaking the finality in his tone. The matter was closed.

But even as she lay back on her thin mattress, her thoughts were spinning in defiance of sleep. Who would have anything to gain from shooting her father? Only one answer came readily to mind, one disturbing answer as apparent as it was prophetic. Only the Southerners would have a reason to hate her father enough to wish him dead. But which Southerner? One hiding in the shadows? Or the one who came boldly to their door?

Had she been flirting with the man who even as he teased her was planning to murder her father?

In the morning, she learned her father’s intention of sweeping the incident away, just as the window glass had quietly been disposed of. When she tried to bring it up again over a brief breakfast of coffee and biscuits, he made himself very clear.

“We won’t discuss this matter any further, Jules. I’ll not have your vivid imagination making any more of it than it is. An accident.”

“But Papa—”

“No more, I said.”

His tone brooked no argument, his look, no quarter. So Juliet finished her coffee in silence, hurt by his exclusion and worrying over what might prove serious enough for her father to wish her insulated from it. Was it personal embarrassment? He’d made such a strong stand on the side of the Rebels keeping their word. Did that keep him from naming them in the attack? How foolish to place one’s pride above one’s life. The more she considered, the more likely it became as the answer to his silence. If he were to admit an attack took place, all his Southerners would fall under suspicion. If a report were made, it could result in all of them going back to their incarceration at Point Lookout.

But why was he willing to suppress the truth in order to protect these treacherous
men? Why was he willing to put his own life at risk?

Had she the right to go against his wishes?

Juliet wondered as she watched him sponge his uniform to restore a fresh appearance. She’d always thought him at his most handsome when turned out in a crisp uniform, his shoes blacked, his buttons gleaming, saber strapped to his side. She couldn’t picture him any other way, not as a clerk going to work in a city store nor as a government employee heading for his comfortable desk and reams of paperwork. This was her father, the vital, fighting man before her, the man her mother had fallen in love with and followed throughout the West at the cost of her own life. Not a man of pride but one of honor.