And One Wore Gray

  She felt the hard burning entry of the man, felt a spasm of pain at first; she almost fought him. But his words were there, as silken and seductive as the movement of his fingers over her bare flesh. “It’s the baby, Callie. You’ve had a baby. It will ease.”

  She bit into his shoulder, and he moved again. Slowly. Fully. Desire rushed through her again, easing away the pain. Within moments, it was gone.

  Blessedly so, for his desire seemed even greater than the other hunger that had plagued them so. He was ever a considerate lover, then consideration fell away. He was the sun itself, burning with a fire not to be quenched. He moved like the impetus of the brook, cascading in a rush upon her. He was as rich, as full, as redolent as the earth around her. But most of all, he was storm, thundering against a windswept shore, and sweeping her into the ardent whirlwind of his deepest needs.

  Even as she soared and seemed to slip into some netherland of near darkness, he shuddered violently against her, again, again, and again. She felt the ripple of muscle, the sweet expulsion from his body filling her own, and then slowly, the heat of his weight, descending upon hers. For long moments their breath mingled, their heartbeats thundered and finally slowed together. For long sweet moments she felt encapsulated by warmth, by intimacy, by tenderness.

  He held her, his face wet and slick against her throat and breasts.

  “Callie!”

  She thought she heard his whisper and that something remained in it of the love they had once shared that seemed but a distant memory now. It seemed as if something might be salvaged, as if he might believe in her again.

  He rolled from her, breaking the band of heat and the aftermath of tenderness. He lay with his arm cast over his forehead as he stared up at the sky.

  Callie felt the cold breeze sweeping around her. His warmth was gone from her. And she realized that although he might be feeling a few doubts, he still didn’t trust her. Maybe he wanted to.

  But he hadn’t really forgiven her. He had come to her because he had wanted her. He had come to her because of the deprivations of war. Just as a hungry man would dine on any meal.

  Tears, as hot and vibrant as her passion had been, rushed to her eyes. She would never shed them before him, she swore swiftly. She twisted far from his touch and rose, rushing back into the water.

  “Callie!”

  He, too, was on his feet quickly, heedless of his lack of dress. She ignored his call, sinking into the water, glad of the cold, grateful even for the discomfort. “Callie, damn you!”

  He caught her hands and wrenched her up. “What in God’s name is the matter with you?”

  “Nothing. Will you get away from me, please?”

  “Why are you running from me?”

  “I’m not running. I’m trying to bathe.”

  She saw him stiffen. Felt it in his fingers. “Trying to bathe away my touch?” he asked softly.

  “You tell me,” she replied, her tone as light, “Have you decided that I didn’t warn the Yanks? That in that, at the very least, I am innocent?”

  He didn’t answer. She saw the shadows cover his eyes, the hard subtle twist of his jaw. “You’re trying to tell me that you didn’t bring me back to your house to be disarmed and taken by your friend, Captain Dabney?”

  “Yes! I brought you back! I didn’t want them to kill you. You don’t want to understand—”

  “No, you’re wrong. I want desperately to understand. I’d like to understand, too, why Dabney reappeared,” he said politely. Something was different. Maybe he did doubt himself. Maybe he was afraid to do so.

  She stared at him, frustrated, furious, wishing that she could slap him—and then jump up and down on his fallen body. “Bastard!” She shoved against him so hard that he stumbled.

  Trying to pull her drenched chemise down as she moved, she ignored him and started to stride from the water.

  His hand fell upon her arm, swinging her back. “I’ve been the target for enough Yanks, Mrs. Michaelson. Don’t push me any further.”

  “Push you!” she hissed. “Push you! I’d like to take a buggy whip to you!”

  “Careful—” he warned, his eyes narrowing.

  “Careful be damned! You despise me, you mistrust me, yet you’re willing to drag me across the country. Your hatred seems to have little to do with your desires.”

  “Really, and what of yours?”

  “I didn’t accost you—”

  “Accost?” he interrupted coolly. “I don’t think that what I just did could be misconstrued in any way as an attack or an act of force.”

  Her cheeks flamed. “It surely was not my idea, you Rebel—rodent!”

  “Rebel—rodent?” he repeated, just a shade of amusement touching his voice, bending his lips. The amusement vanished. His eyes were intense. “Sorry,” he said softly, “I didn’t hear the protests.”

  “Well, hear them now, Colonel Cameron. Stay away from me.”

  He stared at her, then reminded her quietly, “There was a time, Mrs. Michaelson, when you didn’t seem to mind so very much. There was a time when you went out of your way to openly seduce a man. Today you were far more subtle.”

  “What?” Callie gasped.

  He smiled, a casual, taunting smile. He would have tipped his hat, had he been wearing it. And still, not wearing anything at all, he managed a swaggering arrogance as he passed by her.

  “Today you were a vision in white, Mrs. Michaelson. From the moment I awoke. White that lay like a second skin over your bare flesh.”

  “I needed to bathe!” she cried out indignantly.

  He walked by her. The assumption was left that it had been her fault. That she had seduced him before, and tried to do so again now.

  “Oh!” she screamed out her exasperation and fury. He didn’t stop. She stooped down and grabbed some of the mud from the floor of the creek. She sent it flying across the creek to slap hard over his naked back.

  It brought him to a standstill. He whipped around, and seeing the look on his face, Callie was ready to run again. She spun, but the creek bottom was slippery. She hadn’t managed to take a single step before he catapulted his length against her, bringing them crashing back down into the water.

  She struggled to free herself from his hold. He straddled over her, holding her tightly. Panting, she paused and found herself staring up into his eyes again. He was laughing, and suddenly she discovered that she was laughing too.

  But then their laughter died away, and once again, a warmth swept through her, one always created by his touch. The cold shadows had slipped away from his eyes and his passion rode hot within them again.

  “Tell me that you didn’t want me, Callie!” he charged her heatedly.

  “I did not set out to seduce you!” she cried. Dear Lord, what did he want from her? “Daniel, let me up, let me be! All right! I wanted you. But this can’t happen anymore!”

  “Why, Callie? If you’re so damned innocent, why is it only all right when the Yanks are around?”

  “Stop it!” she charged him. “That’s exactly why it’s so wrong.”

  His hold on her suddenly loosened. His fingers moved gently over a wet tendril of hair. “Help me?” he whispered suddenly. “I want to believe! Callie, you do seduce, so help me God, you seduce. You are beautiful. And what if you’re telling the truth? I’m still a Rebel. You’re a Yank. Not just by geography—by conviction, Callie, I …”

  His voice trailed away. He started to speak again, but they were suddenly interrupted by a loud and furious cry.

  Jared.

  Callie shoved at Daniel. “I have to get the baby.”

  He didn’t move but stared hard at her. She shoved him again. “I’m begging you, leave me be!” she cried to him passionately. “Leave me be.”

  He rose, caught her hands, and jerked her to her feet. “If only we can leave one another be!”

  She heard the baby’s plaintive wail. And still they stared at one another.

  She spun around, heedless of hi
s meaning. She rushed back to the river bank to sweep her son into her arms.

  If only they could leave one another be.

  ———— Twenty-one ————

  Three days later, they managed to cross the Potomac. They were back in Virginia, but it was dangerous territory, and the going was rough. They could stumble upon more troops from either army at any given time.

  It was difficult, for they both had little to say to one another. The tension grew between them as the long days and nights passed.

  Finally, eight days but a true eternity since they had set out, they reached Fredericksburg. Callie could immediately see the change in Daniel when they reached the city, for it was held firmly in Confederate hands.

  It was a beautiful old city, Callie thought. She knew that George Washington’s family had lived here and kept property near the Rappahannock. Under better circumstances, she might have enjoyed the travel.

  But war had come here and too many times. Many buildings were riddled with shot, and the people bore the haggard look of tenacious but weary fighters.

  Callie hoped that they would stay, at least for a few days. She longed for a bath with steaming hot water and for a soft bed beneath her at night. But Daniel was determined to push on. He was able to buy some food, some bread and ham at exorbitant prices, and he procured a wagon so that Callie could ride awhile with the baby sleeping in back. But he was dead set on reaching Richmond, and then his home.

  At last they passed by all the sentries and came into Richmond, the Confederate capital, the heart of its existence.

  Daniel was driving the wagon with the horses hitched to the rear when they first approached the city from a slight ridge. Callie looked down on it. It was large and sprawling with the beautiful capital buildings visible in the sunlight. She could even see the statuary before it. Handsome buildings and beautiful churches surrounded it. It was a busy place, with people moving at a hectic pace.

  “Well, you are home,” Callie said softly.

  He glanced her way. “Not home, but close.”

  She bowed her head. She was so weary. She prayed he didn’t intend to keep riding on tonight. Yet she was afraid to let him know just how exhausted she was. It hadn’t seemed that she had slept, really slept, in an eternity. She and Daniel had taken to sleeping at a distance, and the ground—to which it seemed he had grown so accustomed—was hard and cold to her, sending chills into her body every night. And every night she lay awake, wanting the warmth he could give her, more furious with each passing day that she could still desire someone who taunted her so, condemned her so.

  She loved him still. As much as she hated some of the things that he said and did, there were other things that reminded her why she had first fallen in love with him. When she watched him with Jared, she knew that he loved the child, that he was the best of fathers, that he would have been this caring with or without the war. He had tried very diligently to see to her welfare, managing to procure more and more food for them as they came closer and closer to Rebel territory. He would never take a portion of food first; he would never even take a sip of water first when they came to a stream. Her cavalier was tarnished and tattered, but underneath the fraying gray, the gentleman remained, no matter what the circumstances, no matter what his anger or his emotion.

  Callie’s only defense against Daniel were her pride and strength, and both were at a low ebb now.

  She sat stiffly, determined that she would not break down and beg for anything at this late date. Perhaps she could make a casual suggestion.

  “Have you friends to see in Richmond?” she asked him, feigning a yawn as she did so.

  She felt the force of his blue gaze. “Yes, Reb friends, of course,” he replied politely.

  “People you need to see?”

  He laughed softly. “You don’t give a damn if I need to see anyone, Callie. You just want a bed for a night.”

  She gazed at him coolly. “Is that so bad?”

  “Not if you come right out and ask for it,” he told her. He clicked the reins over the horses’ flanks and the wagon began to move more briskly. “Yes, Callie, I have friends here. And we’ll stay for the night.”

  It wasn’t quite that easy. By the time they moved into the city streets, Callie saw that they were filled with people hurrying along their way. There were lines in various places where people were trying to buy goods. Inflation was high; the Yankee blockade was doing its damage to the Confederacy with far more efficiency than any of the troops in the field.

  A footless soldier in a ragged uniform limped by them on a pair of rude crutches and Daniel drew in the carriage, calling out to him, “Soldier, do you know of any rooms available?”

  The man saluted sharply, then came toward Daniel. “Sir! I’m afraid I know of none.” He glanced Callie’s way. “How do you do, ma’am.” To Daniel he said, “Bringing your wife and child into safety, eh, sir? Well, I’m sure the army can see to something. And you, ma’am, you musn’t worry. We won’t let the Yankees into Richmond. Ever. We’ve fought ’em time and time again. Don’t fret none.”

  Callie remained silent. Within another hour, though, Daniel was swearing softly. He’d tried every rooming house and hotel he knew, and all were filled to the hallways. Refugees naturally seemed to flock to Richmond. Once their farms were destroyed, they had to seek some kind of employment. As the war continued, their numbers were growing.

  “We should have just ridden home,” he muttered.

  Callie, with Jared in her arms, stretched her aching back. “I thought that you had friends in the city,” she said.

  “I didn’t think you would want to meet them,” he returned.

  Of course. His friends would know he didn’t have a wife.

  “Hell!” he muttered suddenly. “If we’re going to go that route, we’ll do it from the top.”

  “Daniel, what are you doing?” she demanded.

  He refused to answer. Ten minutes later they were pulling up before a beautiful and gracious white house with a wide porch and huge white columns. There were horses and carriages all around, soldiers standing on duty, and a great deal of commotion.

  “Daniel, where are we?” Callie demanded.

  “At a friend’s house,” he said tersely. He caught her hand. “Come on.”

  “I can’t go in there!” Callie said, tugging on her hand nervously. “I haven’t bathed, it’s been as hot as blazes, the baby’s clothes are as filthy as my own. Daniel, let me go—”

  But he didn’t let her go, and his hold was fierce. Apparently he was well known here, for soldiers greeted him not just with salutes but with warm greetings as they hurried to the entry.

  “Daniel, where are we?” Callie persisted.

  “They call it the White House of the Confederacy.”

  “And—and Jeff Davis is your friend?” she nearly shrieked.

  “Actually, I know Varina much better,” he told her. She blanched. She wanted to hit him, she wanted to run.

  “Let me go, Daniel.”

  “Not on your life.”

  “You’re bringing a Yank to see Jeff Davis?”

  “You said you wanted a bed. Varina will find one for me.”

  “You’d better let me go! I could do horrible things in there, Daniel. I could start singing the ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic.’ I could—”

  “Open your mouth just once at the wrong time, Callie, and you’ll be singing it hog-tied in the wagon!” he warned her.

  The door opened. A handsome black butler stood there, his face split into a grin. “Why, Colonel Cameron.” His smile faded slightly, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Colonel, I’m mighty pleased to see you alive, sir. We heard all about that battle in that Gettysburg place, sir, yes we did. It’s taken a hard toll on my folks in there, what with Vicksburg falling on the Fourth of July, just like a plum into the hands of them Yanks. But you come on in now, ye hear. Lawdy, yes, Colonel, you come on in. And a little one! My, my, you’ve gone done and got yerself hit
ched, Colonel Cameron!”

  Daniel didn’t reply. The butler was now taking a closer look at both of them, staring at Callie’s worn shoes and getting a full view of a dusty, travel-stained skirt. He swallowed. “Yessir, you and your lady come on in.”

  Daniel thanked him and they came into a handsome foyer with statuettes in niches on either side of the main entry into the house. The fine hardwood floor was covered with a thick paper matting in an attractive pattern, set there to protect the floor from the hundreds of feet that must surely pass over it every day. The walls were covered with a beautiful papering that made them appear to be marble.

  The butler disappeared ahead of them. A doorway to the right, slightly ajar, led to an immense dining room. The doorway to Callie’s left was closed, but the main doorway before her suddenly burst open, and a beautiful woman with haunting dark eyes came through.

  “Daniel!”

  Her voice was soft, gracious, melodious. She was not a young girl, but a mature woman, probably in her middle to late thirties, Callie thought. She had seldom seen a woman more beautiful.

  Or clean, she added, in comparison to herself.

  Her skirts rustled with her every movement. Her day dress was demure, cut nearly to the throat. It was a dove gray and shimmering silver, enhanced by rows of fine black embroidered lace. Her hair was neatly confined to a net at the back of her head, and despite the heat of the day, she appeared remarkably cool and poised.

  She hugged Daniel. He caught her hands and kissed both of her cheeks.

  “Daniel, you’ve come back from Gettysburg!” she whispered. “Was it as horrible as they say? Oh, dear Lord, what am I asking you? Of course it was horrible, wretched, terrible. But my poor old Banny, so many don’t see it, but he dies just a little bit with every soldier out there! Now Vicksburg has fallen too.”

  Her voice trailed away as she looked past Daniel and saw Callie. If she thought anything at all of Callie’s pathetic appearance, she was too well bred to give any sign. “I am so very, very sorry!” She broke away from Daniel and stretched out her hands to Callie. “I am Varina Davis, child, and you appear exhausted. And you’ve a baby! Please, may I take him?”