She had created the fabulous creature now being rocked by Janey in the kitchen. Jared Cameron. His son. A healthy, beautiful baby boy.
His stomach turned. Who could have ever imagined that it would feel this wonderful to be a father? He’d always liked children; he’d had some time with John Daniel as an infant to learn what they were like. And he’d loved his nephew dearly, just as he loved Jesse and Kiernan.
He’d never imagined what he would feel, looking into Jared’s sky-blue eyes, feeling those tiny fingers close around his own.
They were all here now. He’d wanted his son home. The idea probably hadn’t even been rational at first. But he hadn’t been about to leave the boy with Callie.
Revenge?
Maybe. Or maybe he had just wanted her here. And maybe he hadn’t wanted to marry her because that would hurt her too. She had come with him anyway. She had never suggested marriage. He had.
He sat back. They were all so beautiful. Most men in his position would be convinced they had died and gone to heaven. His sister was striking with her ivory skin, coal-dark hair, and startling, deep-blue Cameron eyes. Even as a child Kiernan had been a beauty, with her classic features and wheat-blond hair, just touched by streaks of strawberry and sun.
Callie sat between them to complete the picture. Delicate, elegant, with the perfect shaping of her face, the large pools of her haunting gray eyes, the lovely bow of her mouth, and the shimmering auburn blaze of her hair to defy even the shade of a perfect sunset. She was dressed in silver this evening, silver-gray, a color that met and matched her eyes, and made them even deeper, darker, more elusive.
She truly was beautiful, he thought, extraordinarily so. In this dove-gray and silver, and in the white gown with the embroidered red flowers that Ben had procured for their wedding.
She’d been upset when they had left that gown behind. It had probably been the first gown of such elegance that she had ever owned. She had come from a small farm. Even the White wedding dress she had certainly worn to her first wedding had probably not been of the same quality.
He could never accuse her of seeking riches of any kind. She seemed to stand up well against any calamity, be it flying bullets, poverty, hunger, hardship.
But this was the same way that he had been made the fool before, believing in her, loving her. She had the face of an angel.
She caught him studying her as she handled the orange and she flushed, placing it back on the table. She sat very stiffly, so quickly on the defensive.
And why not? Do you ever say anything even remotely kind to her? he taunted himself.
What is there to say? Tell her the truth? I love you, Callie, I love you with all of my heart. I want it just to be Jared, but I need you, I want you. So many times I have longed to bring you close beside me, to speak all that is in my heart.
But then I hear your whisper, feel the softness of your flesh….
They were all talking. His sister and Kiernan, who truly loved him, and Callie, who they were artfully drawing into the conversation. He watched as she became animated, talking about her brothers.
Her smile was beautiful; the sound of her laughter was contagious.
He wanted to love her so badly. But he was afraid. Afraid that he had killed the love between them. Afraid that he could never really trust her, not while the war raged on.
He pushed back his chair. Three pairs of startled eyes were drawn his way.
“Excuse me, ladies,” he said with an extravagant drawl. “I think I’ll go out on the porch for a cigar.”
He bowed abruptly and turned to leave them.
“But Daniel—” Christa began. “Ouch!”
Kiernan must have kicked her beneath the table, Daniel decided wryly. His sister was hurt, he knew. He had so little time with them, and it seemed that he was trying to escape them.
He leaned over the porch rail and looked over the rose garden, beautiful, haunted in the moonlight. Far down the slope of the lawn, the ivory glitter of the near full orb in the sky fell upon the river, the ever moving river. It was beautiful. It was peaceful. It was his home, and he was loath to leave it again.
Far across the yard he saw the old family cemetery, and beyond, the summer cottage. He paused, struck a match to his boot and lit a thin cheroot he had taken from the huge accounts desk in the den. He puffed on the fine tobacco.
He wandered down the steps and began to walk.
Summer was hot and humid. But here, by night, no matter how bad the day had been, nightfall brought a balmy breeze that seemed to caress and envelop him. Had it always felt so good just to walk in the darkness? Or had he learned the beauty of his home once he had been forced away from it so many great lengths of time?
Traditionally, the house would come to Jesse. Cameron Hall had always been inherited by the eldest son. But Jesse had always been more interested in his medicine, and Daniel had been the one who knew the acreage and the livestock. There had never been any reason to worry about who actually owned the place. They both loved it. And the family owned more houses than they might ever need. His mother had hailed from Mississippi, but his grandmother had brought a plantation into the family, a place called Stirling Hall. Kiernan had her own home, too, just up the river, and a doting father with no one to leave the place to except to his daughter and her children. Yes, they were all rich in houses and land.
Now they were rich. But the war would eventually strip them all. So far they had been lucky. Maybe they would stay lucky.
Maybe some Union company that didn’t give a hoot about a colonel named Cameron might come along and burn down the place.
And any company, Reb or Yank, could come by and rob it blind, “confiscating” for the troops. Just as they had confiscated through Pennsylvania and Maryland.
He had reached the graveyard. The shadowy silver light of the moon fell upon the white tombstones. A low heat fog lay on the ground, and marble angels seemed nearly to dance.
Daniel walked through the little gate and wandered to his father’s grave, and his mother’s beside it. “Who’s right, Pa? Jesse and Callie, so convinced on the one side, and Kiernan and Christa and I, ever rebels at heart!” he whispered to the night. He sighed and continued to speak out loud. “Maybe slavery is wrong, Pa, but isn’t it equally wrong for one set of people to tell another set how to live? Given time, the southern states might have begun to free their slaves—they might have voted it out. I hear tell that Vermont abolished slavery some time ago. Hell, Pa, Thomas Jefferson couldn’t deal with the question when he was writing the Constitution. The founding fathers actually left us in a bit of a bind here. And we’re killing one another over it daily now. I had to go with Virginia, Pa. That’s the way I saw it. Just like Jesse had to go north.”
And then there’s Callie, he thought, silent once again.
His father would have liked her. He would have liked her poise, and he would have liked the way that her eyes met the world, wide and steadfast. He would have liked her strength under duress, and he would have liked the beautiful smile that curved her lips every time she looked upon their son.
“Yes, then there’s Callie!” he said aloud. “How do I know what’s true within her heart and soul, Pa? How do you learn to trust someone again? I want to believe her, but then I’m afraid. I hurt her, and God knows, I hurt myself. And if she really cared for me once I’ve managed to turn that love to dust!”
He paused in the moonlight, then smiled suddenly and turned away from the graves. He didn’t know what he had expected to find here, but he had found a curious determination.
He walked past the smokehouse and the laundry and the rows of slave quarters until he reached the barn. Quietly and quickly he walked among the horses, talking to them as he passed them, looking them all over one by one.
The Yankee bay had been a decent enough mount, but he was wasn’t taking it when he rode back to war. He wanted one of the saddle horses he had bred and trained himself.
He paused, wincing, thinking of the horses that
had been killed beneath him. He chose a tall black named Zeus, patting the animal’s nose. “Maybe we’ll have better luck this time, eh, boy?” he whispered, stroking the fine neck. Zeus was half Arabian, and he had the deep dish nose and flying tail of that breed. He was a large horse, standing nearly seventeen hands high. “The Yanks might be after me just to get their hands on you, boy, but what the hell, sir, they’ll be after us no matter what. We’ll worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, well, tonight we’re out for a ride.”
He saddled and bridled the horse, and when he was done, he mounted up and began to ride.
The moonlight was all the guide he needed.
He rode over the plantation, impressed again with the manner with which his sister and Kiernan—and the twins—had managed to keep things going. He rode slowly, determined to drink in the sights and scents and the richness of summer here along the river before he would have to ride away.
But he did not ride idly. He knew where he was going.
An hour or so out he came upon the rough wagon they had abandoned on their ride in. There, in the darkness, he looked through the belongings they had deserted on their trip home.
He found the box with the white dress and its embroidered red flowers, crooked it under his arm, and mounted up once again.
He returned to the barn, watered Zeus and brushed him down well, and strode slowly back to the house.
The house seemed very quiet as he entered it through the back porch. He glanced in the dining room, but it was empty.
Curiously, he walked up the stairs, still carrying the dress box. He strode the few steps from the portrait gallery to his room. He tried the doorknob and scowled, a bolt of fury ripping through him like lightning.
The little witch. She’d bolted the door against him.
He nearly slammed his shoulder against it then and there, determined to break it down.
He hesitated. No, not yet. If she was lying awake, let her brood for a while.
And hell, he wanted to get his temper back under control.
He strode back down the stairway and went back into the den, drew the chair out from the desk, sat down, and propped his feet up. He leaned back, closing his eyes.
He had one fool night home, and he had spent it in the saddle, where God help him, he’d be spending his nights from now until who-knew-when!
And now she’d bolted the door against him. No matter. He’d made her no promises, and he didn’t give a damn what the household might think. It was his room. He’d give her a few minutes. But then he was going in. “Daniel?”
The soft whisper startled him. He glanced up. Kiernan was in the doorway. “Come in,” he told her.
She did so. He’d known her his entire life. She wasn’t shy with him.
She sat down across from him, folding her hands in her lap. He smiled. That surely meant he was in for it.
“What, Kiernan?”
“That was rather rude.”
He shrugged. “Kiernan, I assure you, my wife would far prefer your company to mine.”
“Are you so very certain?”
“Entirely.”
“Daniel—”
“Kiernan, I love you dearly,” he warned her softly, “but you are treading on dangerous ground!”
“Hmmph! And I used to think that Jesse was the difficult one!”
“He is. You just don’t see enough of him to truly appreciate his difficulty anymore,” Daniel teased.
“Daniel—”
“Kiernan!”
She sighed. “Oh, all right! But just in case you’re wondering about your wife, I’ll tell you. She kept up a tremendous front, trying not to appear embarrassed that her husband had but one night with her and his son and disappeared in the midst of dinner despite it. She was in a difficult position, but I daresay she held her temper fairly well the first hour. Then she excused herself, saying that she was exhausted, which I’m sure she is, although I imagine she is presently torn between sleep—and the burning desire to skewer you through.”
Daniel arched a brow at Kiernan. “I wasn’t wondering about my wife. I know exactly where she is. But thank you, Mrs. Cameron!”
“You don’t intend to apologize?”
“No, madam, I do not! I told you,” he added more softly. “I don’t think she missed my presence. In fact, I can almost guarantee it. And I will be going up. Soon.”
Kiernan rose. “Well, I think that you’re being as pigheaded as a mule. But still, I want you to know …”
“What?”
“Well, I’ve put both the boys to bed in John Daniel’s nursery. John Daniel has graduated from his cradle, and it’s just right for Jared. They’re both sound asleep. I thought that you should know. Just in case.”
It was good to know.
“Thank you,” he told her softly.
“Good night, Daniel,” Kiernan said softly. “I love you, you know.” She came behind him, hugging his shoulders. She kissed him on the cheek.
He held her hand, where it lay against his shoulder. Then he turned slightly and kissed it. “I love you too.”
She left him, and he stared broodingly across the room.
He’d married her. He’d brought her home. She was upstairs in his own room, and he was her husband, and he had every right, and he was about to ride away to war….
There was a sound outside. He narrowed his eyes. Maybe she was bringing the war to him. But it wasn’t Callie.
There was a slight tap on the door, and then Christa poked her head in. “Daniel!”
“Come in,” he told her.
She smiled and came in. “How about a brandy for your sister?” she asked.
Placing his feet on the ground, he pulled out the brandy carafe and glasses. He quickly poured the amber liquid. He didn’t comment that a lady shouldn’t be so determined on drinking at this hour of the night.
A lady shouldn’t be working the way that Christa did to keep a place together, either.
He walked around the desk, handing her a brandy. “To the real Cameron among us, Christa! The one keeping the home fires burning.”
Christa smiled. “You’ve three women keeping the home fires burning now, Daniel! Even if you are atrociously rude.”
He sighed. “Must everyone comment on my affairs?”
Christa lowered her head. “No, I won’t. Not anymore, not tonight. You’re my brother, and I love you.”
She stood up abruptly, careless with her glass as she suddenly hugged him, hard and tight. “Oh, Daniel, it’s so good to see you, and so hard to know that you’ll ride away so quickly again. Every time one of you leaves I feel that more of my heart is torn away. Jesse hasn’t managed to come home in more than a year now!”
He hugged her in return, smoothing back her hair. “Shhhh!” he told her softly. “It’s all right.”
“Sometimes. And sometimes, I’m so scared, Daniel! It will never be the same again. Never, never.”
“No, it will be the same! We’ll be the same, Christa. Nothing has ever managed to touch the fact that we’re a family, that we love one another, that we have one another! We need to hold on to that.”
“Yes, of course. Except that Jesse is so far away. He might as well be across an ocean, the chasm is so deep!”
“Christa!” He lifted her face by her chin, searching out her eyes. “What—”
“Daniel, I want to get married. I can wait a few more months, but not forever! I love Liam McCloskey so much, and I’m always so afraid! With—with your blessing, we’ve set June for a wedding date. I pray that the war will be over. I pray so desperately that it will end! But if it doesn’t, Jesse will be far away! Oh, Daniel, he should be there—”
“Hush, Christa, maybe he will be.”
“Kiernan can go to Washington. She can see Jesse there and let him know.”
That probably wasn’t such a good idea. Kiernan had to be very careful, moving back and forth across enemy lines. Too many Yanks knew that Jesse’s family was all Reb, including his wife. T
he war itself was like that. Families were divided.
But spying was dangerous, and though Daniel knew that Jesse had suspected his wife of spying at one time, they had come to a truce of their own.
“There will be a way to let Jesse know,” he assured her. “I’ll see to it.”
“He won’t say no, will he?”
Daniel grinned. There were some things war couldn’t change. Christa wanted Jesse’s approval. It was only right.
But after their own hasty marriages, Daniel couldn’t begin to see either Jesse or himself dictating anything about propriety to Christa!
“He won’t say no.”
She leaned against his shoulder. “I’m just so tired of it all. Daniel, there was an explosion in Richmond at the munitions factory—someone grew careless—and there were over sixty people killed.” She pushed away from him and her eyes welled with tears. “They were mostly women, Daniel, working because the men were all gone to war. So now the ladies die as well as the gentlemen, and still, a generation of boys will be dead when this is done! Are we wrong, Daniel? Have we brought on this bloodshed for nothing?”
“We didn’t bring on the bloodshed, Christa. Not you, nor I, nor Jesse. We were swept up into the midst of it, and we all did what we thought we had to do, and that’s ail that any man—or woman—can do. I pray that we’re not wrong, I pray that daily. It’s all I can do when I watch men fall, and bleed, and die. And walk barefoot in the snow, looking to me for a guidance I find it harder and harder to give.”
“Oh, Daniel, I did not mean to distress you!”
He smiled and touched her cheek. “You never distress me. At least, you don’t anymore. You were, upon occasion, a tremendous little hellion years ago.”
She grinned. “I’ve seen to it that you’ve a fresh uniform to wear back to the front, Daniel. I’ve sewn on your insignias and bars just today. And I’ve knitted you a wonderful sash, and Patricia went out to find new plumes for your hat.”
“Thank you.”
She kissed his cheek. “Good night, Daniel. And don’t forget, you must come home next June to give me away for my wedding just in case Jesse can’t make it.”
“Will your groom be home?”