Beloved Enemy Page 15

  “Rob?” she whispered as she ducked under its glossy leaves. He wasn’t there.

  She was sure she saw someone outside an hour ago, and looked about. Only cold starlight winked at her through the branches. Hunching her shoulders against the cold, her unease grew as she strained to hear the indefinable whisperings that seemed to waft in the air around her. The short hairs on the back of her neck prickled. A premonition of fear seized her. What if he didn’t come tonight?

  Just then, she heard the unmistakable click of the gate’s latch. Julia released her pent-up breath. In a few more minutes, she would be free of Payton Norwood forever.

  Rob paused before shutting the gate behind him. Lifting his chin, he sniffed the air, hoping to catch a whiff of oiled leather and damp wool that would signal the presence of the Confederates who were there to capture him. He surveyed the dark garden, trying to penetrate the shadowed corners between the privy house and the compost heap. A dozen men could hide there without a trace, he thought. He swallowed to calm his nerves. He was at the point of no return. From the moment he had said farewell to Colonel Lawrence this afternoon, his path had been set in a straight line toward the cells of Libby Prison. He regretted that the secrecy of his mission even forbade him from giving his young cousin a warmer-than-usual goodbye.

  A whippoorwill’s call pierced the wind. In the dead of a winter’s night, that cry could only be a man-made signal. All Rob’s senses heightened, and a spasm of pain spread through his useless hand. Someone moved beside the magnolia. Despite the apprehension for his future after tonight, he smiled when Julia materialized from under the tree’s branches. Seeing her in the cold light of the moon, Rob appreciated her slender willowy form, despite the cloak that fell from her shoulders. His blood quickened in his veins as he strode across the frozen ground to meet her. In his pocket, the small book of Shakespearean sonnets bumped against his hip.

  I must give it to Julia quickly before—

  “Rob,” she breathed, her smile radiant. “I was afraid that I had missed you.”

  He opened his good arm and she walked into his half-embrace as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Slipping his hand around her slim waist, he pulled her closer to him—to keep her warm. Though she wore a wool dress with all its attendant corseting and layers of petticoats, he could still feel the flare of her hips. Rob sucked in his breath. How he longed to savor those delights that Julia’s graceful body promised! He dipped his head to hers.

  “This is an appointment I could not miss, though the devil himself barred the way,” he replied with ironic truth.

  He suspected that his remaining freedom could be counted in mere minutes now. He had so much to tell Julia, and yet all his lips wanted to do was kiss her.

  Julia looked up at him. “Payton arrived. We are truly engaged now, though I have a—”

  “Do not speak of him. His name insults your tongue.” With those words, Rob covered her lips with his. Julia gasped; her sweet breath filled his mouth. A rush of sensual vitality raced through him. His manhood rose with white heat.

  Wrapping her arms around his waist, Julia returned his kiss with a reckless abandon that surprised him. She tasted of clover honey and summer wine—sweet and heady. Hers was a kiss to live for—one that he would cherish in the depths of his imprisonment.

  Lieutenant Adamson watched the lovers meld together. The girl confirmed the man’s identity when she whispered his name. Adamson groaned with envy. He wished his own sweetheart had half that much passion in her voice when she spoke to him. Drawing his revolver from its holster, he truly hated what he had to do. He sheathed his emotions against the painful consequences he knew the next few minutes would bring.

  Just then a shrill scream shattered the stillness. Lights flashed on inside the Chandler house. Shouts and another scream.

  The couple broke their kiss, though the woman held the Yankee tight.

  Adamson swore. This unexpected disturbance jeopardized his plan to capture the major and escape with as little disturbance as possible. He gestured to his nearest man, who nodded in response and passed the signal down the line. Miss Chandler whispered something in the major’s ear, drawing his attention to herself. In less than a minute, the rangers surrounded their quarry. The lieutenant hoped he would be able to take Montgomery without commotion.

  Putting his hand on the major’s shoulder, Adamson felt his muscles under the coat instantly stiffen. He cocked his revolver. “Major Robert Montgomery, a word with you, if you please,” he whispered.

  Montgomery looked up from Miss Chandler, but did not release her. In fact, he drew her closer to his body. “Do not harm this lady,” he growled. “She is innocent of this business.”

  Spying Adamson’s gun, Miss Chandler screamed, then clapped her hand over her mouth and buried her face in the major’s chest. Maintaining an icy calm, Montgomery stroked her hair while staring at his captor. Adamson released a long breath. Though he hated upsetting women, he silently thanked Miss Chandler for her presence. For her sake, it appeared that Montgomery was not going to put up a fight. The lieutenant lowered his gun a fraction, though he did not uncock the hammer.

  The noise inside the Chandler house increased in volume. More lights appeared in the downstairs windows.

  “Colonel Mosby’s compliments, sir. He wishes to meet you as soon as possible,” Adamson said quickly, hoping to keep down the noise in the garden. Perhaps the Chandlers’ domestic quarrel could work to his advantage if no one inside paid any attention to what was happening behind their house.

  Then Jamie noticed that the major’s right hand remained in his pocket. Did he conceal a small pistol? Not wishing to make himself a prime target, he grabbed hold of Montgomery’s right wrist and yanked out his hand. Instead of the stub nose of a derringer pointing at him, there was nothing but a glove. To be safe, Adamson pulled it off. In the moon’s light, he saw the terrible damage done by a minié ball.

  “Sweet Lord,” Adamson muttered. “Where did you get that?”

  “Gettysburg,” Montgomery snapped, looking at a spot over the lieutenant’s left shoulder.

  Lifting her face from the man’s coat, Miss Chandler stared at the misshapen fingers. “Oh, Rob,” she whispered.

  The Yankee clenched his jaw. “Seen your fill, Lieutenant? With your permission, may I put my glove back on? Miss Julia is shocked enough.”

  Adamson tore his gaze away from the man’s injury to look into his eyes. A glare of cold steel returned his glance. With a mumbled apology, Adamson handed over the glove and marveled at the dexterity with which Montgomery pulled it on without releasing his hold of Miss Chandler.

  The lights bobbed toward the rear door of the house. Adamson swore under his breath. Now he would have to explain himself to the family. He had hoped to vacate the garden without compromising the lady. That chance gone, now he prayed his rangers could escape with the major before some wakeful neighbor called the Federal provost marshal.

  Lieutenant Adamson gave Miss Chandler an apologetic look. “Beg your pardon, miss, but it appears that we have landed you in a heap of trouble.” As he spoke, the back door banged open. Several men bounded down the steps.

  Miss Chandler shook her head. “No need to apologize, Lieutenant. I have made my own misfortune all by myself.”

  The major looked down at her with a stricken expression. “Julia, please forgive me. I wish I could have spared you from this.”

  Placing her hand on his chest over his heart, she smiled up at him. Her lips trembled. “No, Rob, I can’t forgive you,” she replied in a whisper, “because there is nothing to—”

  At that instant, Dr. Jonah Chandler yanked his daughter out of the major’s embrace. “Unhand Julia or, by God, I’ll kill you.” He waved a long-barreled rifle.

  Julia gasped. “Papa, please!”

  The doctor’s outburst galvanized Adamson. Fearing for both the safety of his prisoner as well as that of his men, the lieutenant faced down the angry father. “Lieutenant James
Adamson at your service, sir,” he said, stepping between Chandler’s gun and Montgomery. He touched the brim of his gray felt slouch hat to the doctor.

  “I regret this uncivilized intrusion upon your family and property, sir,” he continued swiftly, “but I was instructed to apprehend Major Montgomery at this place and hour. Your daughter is a brave woman, Dr. Chandler, and was most helpful in the capture of this Yankee. He is a member of General Grant’s staff, and no doubt he has a great deal of information that my commander, Colonel Mosby, will be most eager to obtain. With your permission, we will remove ourselves as quickly as possible and allow you and your family to return to your beds.”

  The couple looked at one another with equal expressions of perplexity, while Dr. Chandler, somewhat mollified, stepped back. “Julia helped you?” he asked, with astonishment. “Is that what she’s doing out here?”

  Montgomery stared only at Miss Chandler. “Did you?” he mouthed silently to her.

  Her eyes wide like those of a stricken doe, Miss Chandler pushed herself away from her father. She clutched her throat, but no sound emerged. Lieutenant Adamson hoped that she understood that his lie was meant to save her reputation. He cleared his throat. “Indeed, sir, Colonel Mosby is most grateful for Miss Chandler’s assistance.” He gave her a fleeting smile.

  A numbing sensation crept through Rob’s brain. He barely felt his arms being tied behind his back. What was it Julia had whispered to him just as he was arrested? The only words he could remember were, “I am desperate.” Had he completely misconstrued her enthusiastic responses toward him? Was she really the spy that Lawrence suspected her to be? Had he been betrayed by a woman once again?

  “Did you tell them I would be here tonight?” he asked her.

  Shaking her head, she staggered backward toward the house. Though her lips moved, she made no sound, except the rasp of her breathing. She stared at him, at the Rebel soldiers, back to him, then at her father, then to a young fop standing behind Dr. Chandler that Rob presumed was Julia’s cousin. Smarting under the lieutenant’s revelation, Rob didn’t know if he should feel sorry for Julia or be glad that she, in turn, would receive her just deserts.

  “Julia—” he began again, but one of the Rebs pushed a gag between his teeth.

  Their commander lifted his eyebrow. “Your pardon, Major, but I don’t need your help to raise a ruckus.”

  Rob swallowed. The cloth in his mouth tasted of tobacco and onions. He nodded to the lieutenant. Then he glanced at Julia again. Her eyes glazed over; in the moonlight she looked pale as a ghost. Maybe she knew nothing and this Rebel was trying to be a gentleman.

  Two of the troopers grabbed him by each shoulder while a third man prodded him toward the gate with his rifle barrel. Mosby’s Rangers had not earned their reputation for daring swift raids by loitering too long in one place. The closer Rob got to the gate, the faster the soldiers pushed him. He stretched his neck to look at Julia one last time. He saw her shake off the younger man’s arm from her shoulder. Standing alone, she appeared as fragile as a glass figurine.

  Outside in the alley, two other rangers held the reins of a number of horses. His three guards roughly pushed Rob up into the saddle of one. The book he had brought for Julia bumped against his leg. Rob bit down on his gag with frustration. There had been no opportunity to give it to her.

  He tried to see her through the gate, but his escort allowed him no time. Without waiting for their commanding officer to join them, they took off down the street at a brisk trot away from the river, pulling Rob’s horse behind them. When his guard picked up speed on the edge of the city, Rob forced his thoughts away from Julia. Gripping his mount with his knees, he hung on as his escort dashed them through the sleeping farmland. Once incarcerated in Libby Prison, Rob would have ample opportunity to analyze tonight’s events. For now, he needed to use every ounce of his strength to stay in the saddle.

  A heaviness stole over Julia’s senses. She could hear the Confederate officer speaking to her father, but his words sounded muffled, as if he talked though a goose-down pillow. The grim expression on Rob’s face froze her voice. He believed she betrayed him, that she had arranged for his capture.

  She tried to tell him that he was wrong, but no sound came from her throat. Her fingers lost all feeling. Her feet refused to walk in a steady line. Her vision blurred so that Rob’s form melted together with those of his captors—blue and gray together. She wanted to stop them so that she could assure Rob of her innocence, but the shock of his capture had dulled her wits. The sudden appearance of the Confederates was not what she had planned.

  Payton hung his arm around her neck. She could smell strong brandy on his vile breath. He growled something in her ear, but his words sounded like gibberish. She struggled to free herself.

  She had to go to Rob before they took him away.

  But instead of running to the garden gate, her legs gave way on her. For the first time in her twenty years, Julia crumpled into a faint.

  Payton caught her before her head hit the flagstones. With a grunt, he scooped her into his arms.

  “I’ll take her inside, Uncle,” he called to her father. “A lady is not used to guns and violence.” He directed this remark to the lieutenant who eyed Julia with more than casual interest. Had Julia kissed him, too? As Payton carried her up the back steps, he rued the necessity that compelled him to marry her. Once they were back at Belmont, he would keep her under lock and key. He would be the only man she would ever see again. He would make her pay dearly for this night’s embarrassment.

  When Payton had first spied Julia and the Yankee with their arms around each other, his anger exploded within his brain. She had not looked at him this evening with one-tenth of the interest she had for that varmint. Payton craved to horsewhip them both, then shoot the man and make her watch him die.

  Shifting her weight in his arms as he negotiated his way through the pantry, he glanced down at her. Julia’s face looked all the more angelic in repose. His gaze lingered on her lips—lips that had kissed the Yankee, but had not yet kissed him, her own fiancé.

  “You will rue this night a hundred times over. That is my wedding vow to you,” he swore.

  He kicked open the door that led from the kitchen into the hall. When he saw his aunt and younger cousin on the staircase, he rearranged his features from hate to concern. This misadventure of Julia’s could work in his favor, he realized. Now that she was truly degraded, he could ask his uncle for a much larger sum, as well as Julia’s legacy. He needed every penny he could get to pay his creditors, especially since Confederate inflation had sent his debts sky-high. Payton’s poor luck in Richmond’s gambling dens had already used up his inheritance.

  Yes, not only would he make Julia pay for his injured pride, but so would her family. They would settle a fortune on him to get rid of her now.

  Payton flashed Clara a wicked smile as he carried Julia up to her bedroom. “No need to worry, Auntie,” he said in a soothing voice. “She’s only fainted. We stopped that Yankee before he could ravish her.”

  Clara’s high-pitched squeal of alarm acted as a healing balm on Payton’s punctured honor.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Your parents wish to speak with you in the parlor,” Hettie informed Julia the following morning. The housekeeper’s face wore a sympathetic expression. “They’ve been talking about you since dawn.”

  Julia turned away from her window where she had been gazing down at the garden. How could such a peaceful-looking place have been the scene of such cataclysmic events last night? Yet her own plan—to be caught in kissing a Yankee—had worked beautifully, except that she had not been able to warn Rob in time. Her surprise fainting spell may have saved her temporarily from her parents’ wrath, but she had to face them now. The dark wakeful hours between Rob’s capture and this morning’s summons to the parlor had only stiffened Julia’s resolve to lead her own life. Though she would probably never see Rob again, especially since he thought she had
betrayed him to Mosby’s men, she rejoiced that, at least, she didn’t have to marry Payton.

  She tried to give Hettie a flutter of a smile, but her stomach churned at the thought of the interview to come. “Is Payton with them?”

  Hettie wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something rotten in the back of the larder. “No, he ate a big breakfast, then said he was going for a walk. When a raccoon drinks water, you know he’s fixing for a fight,” she added.

  “Is that another one of your mother’s sayings?”

  Hettie nodded solemnly. “And everybody downstairs drank plenty of water this morning at breakfast. Coffee, too.”

  The mention of food made Julia’s stomach rumble, though she had little appetite—at least, not until after she had faced her parents. She patted her hair in place then walked to the door. “Once more, dear friends, into the breach,” she muttered the opening line of Henry V’s speech before the Battle of Agincourt.

  Dr. and Mrs. Chandler greeted their elder daughter with severe expressions. Both Julia’s parents wore dark clothing, as if in mourning, and their attitudes matched their somber attire. Of course they were angry, as she had expected. She stiffened her shoulders for the verbal blows to come.

  “I hope you are satisfied with yourself,” Clara began. Her eyes narrowed into angry slits. “Your behavior last night was unforgivable.”

  Julia said nothing, but cast a quick look at her father. He refused to return her glance. Julia held her silence until her mother had finished everything she intended to say.

  “I cannot imagine what wicked spirit has possessed you this past month, but you will no longer be our concern. Once you are gone from this house, I never want to see nor hear from you again. Your disgrace has pierced me to the heart.”