Rebel

  Alaina shrugged uncomfortably. He shook his head, moving closer to her. “Alaina, you can’t begin to imagine how your talents are appreciated!”

  “Peter, I don’t—”

  “Alaina, you are home because you love your country, aren’t you? Because you want the South to win this war, quickly, with as little death as possible on either side?”

  “Peter, I’m home because… it’s home, but—”

  “You’re loyal and you’re brave, Alaina. You’ve never minded standing on your own two feet, and you’ve never been afraid of any man.”

  That wasn’t exactly true; she was afraid of her husband. It was strange, of course, for Ian would never really hurt her. Not physically. But he could hurt her… Because she loved him.

  And then again, this was war. God alone knew what anyone would do.

  “Alaina,” he said in a rush, “any Southern man would lay down his life for you if needed!”

  “Thank you, Peter, but—”

  Suddenly he stepped forward, gripped her shoulders, and kissed her cheek. “If I can ever be of service to you in any way, you must promise to let me know!” he said passionately. Then just as suddenly he left her, walking quickly away down the street.

  She watched him, feeling peculiarly uneasy again. Did he know what she was doing now? She bit her lip, realizing how dangerous her involvement in the war effort really was.

  In her bedroom in the guest cottage that night, a single candle burned on the desk, casting the corners of the room into darkness and shadow. She needed no more light, and wanted no more light. Sean was sleeping in his crib.

  Alaina sat at the foot of her bed, easing off her boots.

  She rose then and walked to Sean’s bed, anxious to see that her son slept well. He did. Beautiful black hair splayed upon the pillow, little thumb near his mouth, something of a smile curled his lips. She adjusted the light blanket over him.

  Then she thought she heard a sound.

  And felt…

  A chill. Some sense of danger creeping along her spine.

  Even as she spun about, she assured herself that everything had to be well. St. Augustine was filled with soldiers, all guarding the coast. There was a massive fort right out in the harbor. No one could have come in here; she could be in no danger. There were several Confederate ships at anchor nearby.

  But as she turned, she saw that she was not alone. A man leaned against the far corner of the mantel.

  He waited.

  Comfortably.

  He waited in silence, in the shadows of the night. But even as she turned, she felt the rippling chill streak along her spine again, and she realized, disbelievingly, that it was Ian.

  “Hello, Mrs. McKenzie,” he said gravely.

  The moonlight suddenly touched his eyes, and they glittered blue fire against the hard, dark cast of his face. She was suddenly certain that she could feel his anger— wrath that had simmered for months. It came rippling off him like heat waves.

  Foolishly, she turned to run.

  Yet before she could take two steps, his arms were around her like prison bars, and his whisper was against her ear. “Indeed, my beloved Rebel, are you seeking an army to bring me down?”

  “Ian—”

  “Don’t scream,” he warned her icily.

  Then he plucked her up by the arms and threw her. Threw her with an ungodly force…

  And she flew as hard and fast as an arrow until her flight was stopped as she landed, stunned and gasping, against the quilt-covered bed.

  Chapter 25

  Alaina rallied quickly, inching away from him to a sitting position against the headboard, staring at him all the while. As he approached her with long, swift strides, she tossed back her hair nervously, so very glad to see him, yet so terrified of him.

  “I should scream, and I should turn you in to a Reb army.” She leaped off the bed, but he caught her arm, drawing her back, and she faced him, crushed against him, feeling the power of his hold, and that of his eyes. “I should scream,” she whispered again, “loudly enough to wake Jeff Davis up in Richmond! Ian, please, you don’t understand, you don’t—”

  “Shut up, Alaina. I don’t have forever.”

  She broke off, not because of his words, but because he silenced her with a kiss. Mouth consuming hers, tongue tasting, plundering, savage with fire and passion. He was like a tempest, a sudden firestorm out of the night, his fever so electric it charged throughout her instantly. She wanted to protest his violence; she could only match it. His subtle, masculine scent seemed to overwhelm her senses with temptation. She had dreamed of him so many times; she breathed him now. Felt him. His hands on her face; his mouth, liquid fire. And it was good. Engulfing, overwhelming, sensation so sweet she couldn’t think to protest. An alarm within her warned that she should be asking questions, protesting, talking first, but…

  It had been one thing not to know love. But now she had known him, lived with him, loved him, ached for him, and he was here, and that was all that mattered. The feel of his lips, even angry, hungry; the touch of his hands, even rough with the same desire….

  His hands moved and buttons seemed to melt away.

  Clothing fell, his lips barely breaking from hers. She was more awkward, her hands tugging at Union wool. She wanted to tell him that he was a fool for being here in Union wool.

  He was definitely better off naked.

  Yet it was she who stood naked first, and finally his lips left hers, trailing against her throat. Her fingers knotted into his hair as he found her breast with his tongue, teased her nipple to a hardened tip, then licked, sucked, and bathed that tip until it seemed that the sensation streaked right through her body, bringing a red-hot hunger. She whispered his name, tugged at his hair, but he ignored her, kissing her belly, dropping to his knees, drawing her abdomen flush to his face and planting tiny kisses lower and lower.

  Her hands gripped his shoulders; her knees buckled. She came down before him, shaking, seeking his lips and shoulders with her kiss, eager to touch him, taste him everywhere, lay her face against his chest, feel the smoothness and fire of his flesh. Arouse him, excite him, torment him as he tormented her. Her fingers closed fully around his sex, stroked…. His mouth crushed against hers, and she was suddenly off her feet, flat on the bed, and she felt the half-discarded wool of his uniform scratching against her thighs but it didn’t matter; at that point every touch seemed like just another tongue of fire.

  She met his eyes just as he sank into her, very slowly at first, watching her all the while. She couldn’t close her eyes, couldn’t look away. She gasped slightly as she shuddered with a sudden convulsion. With a swift thrust he went deeper still, and she came alive, writhing to the thunderous rhythm that gripped him and swept them up together. Reckless, wild, desperate, she clung to him, seeking and knowing what she sought, reaching and feeling the ecstasy take her at last, exploding into a climax that kept her trembling and convulsing with little aftershocks long after she felt the fierce constriction of his body shuddering throughout her own….

  They lay together in silence for long moments. She felt his heartbeat, her own. His head lay against her breast; she moved her fingers through his hair. “I’m glad to see you, Ian,” she finally said in a worried voice, “but what are you doing here?”

  She was glad to see, when he turned to her, that he was smiling. “I might ask you the same question,” he reminded her.

  She answered gravely, “Ian, I swear, I did not mean to desert you. It’s just that I’m not a part of the North—”

  “And I think I warned you once that wherever you went, I’d come after you,” he said softly.

  A sizzle of fear swept through her. “I really did have to leave Washington. And they’ve been exceptionally wicked to Rose.”

  “Under the circumstances, they’ve been tolerant of Rose. She’s still living, isn’t she?” he demanded wryly. “They have begun to execute spies, you know—and your precious Confederacy started it with a h
anging in Richmond.”

  Alaina lowered her lashes. “It seemed prudent that I leave Washington. I’d been too friendly with Rose. Whom you introduced me to, if you remember.”

  “If I remember correctly, you introduced yourself, coming to a party on the night you were about to give birth.”

  “Well, I didn’t know I was about to give birth, Ian!” She gasped suddenly, sitting up. “You’re in danger here. How in God’s name did you get here?”

  Lacing his fingers behind his head, Ian leaned back against the pillow. “There are ways—naturally.”

  “Ian, it’s dangerous. You can’t stay.”

  His eyes seemed to slice right through her.

  Alaina swallowed hard. “Did you see Sean when he was awake?”

  He nodded.

  Sean was never left alone; when he wasn’t with Alaina, Lilly looked after him. “So Lilly knows you’re here?”

  He nodded again.

  “Can we trust her?” Alaina whispered.

  Ian rolled toward her on an elbow, arching a brow, studying her eyes. “I imagine I can better trust Lilly than you. Wouldn’t you consider that a true statement?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Alaina murmured, eyes downcast. She eased away from him, resentful, de- spite the fact that she was every bit as guilty as she appeared in his eyes. “Am I screaming?” she demanded. “Am I trying to have you seized and imprisoned?”

  “No. But then, God knows, maybe you’re waiting to see if the Panther can give you any information,” he suggested coldly.

  She was acutely uncomfortable. Nervous denial immediately sprang to her lips. “Ian, I don’t know what you heard, and—” She broke off, then added softly, “I don’t know where you’ve been, or with whom. But if Risa told you anything—”

  “Risa,” he said bluntly, “told me nothing but that she thought you should leave as quickly as possible, that it was simply a dangerous city for Southerners.”

  His hard, steady gaze gave away nothing of his own emotions—or his relationship with Risa since Alaina’s departure. She longed to ask him, but too much time lay between them—or perhaps she was afraid to know. “So you have seen her.” “Of course I’ve seen her.” “Ian, if you just understood—”

  “You know, Alaina, I don’t want to understand; I don’t even give a damn anymore.”

  She gasped as she found herself pulled beneath him again, and the world and the war went away. His love-making was passionate and his fever bordered on violence, but it had been so long, so very long, that she couldn’t care, she could only tremble in return, meeting and matching his ardor once again. She had almost forgotten how wonderful it could be in his arms, how unbelievably exquisite to be held, made love to with such demanding passion.

  Yet this time, within minutes after she lay spent against him, he rose, reaching for his clothing. “You’re leaving?” she murmured. “Do you suggest I stay and announce my presence to the good folks of St. Augustine?” he inquired.

  She sat up slowly, drawing the sheets about her as she was suddenly chilled, and shook her head. “No, of course not. I just—”

  “Ah. You were just waiting to see if I was going to make an attempt to abduct you back to Northern territory in the darkness of the night?”

  Alaina flushed. “Ian, I’m assisting your brother, for God’s sake! And—”

  He kissed her lips suddenly, breaking off her speech. “I think that St. Augustine is a fine place for you to be. You’re in Florida—which is where you belong, right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He bent a knee upon the bed, his hands imprisoning her face, and his eyes were suddenly frighteningly intent. “I don’t know what went on in Washington. Risa refuses to tell me, and Rose will do nothing but proudly admit her own guilt.”

  “It isn’t guilt if—”

  “I’m not arguing sides. I’m not going to drag you out of here. But I want your promise that you’ll stay here.”

  “In St. Augustine?”

  He nodded gravely.

  She felt a grateful and relieved fluttering in her heart. She loved the Confederacy—and Ian. And it suddenly seemed possible to love them both.

  “I promise I’ll stay in St. Augustine. I wouldn’t dream of moving away. I—”

  “And you will behave.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I think you do.”

  “Ian, I assist your brother in surgery, I see to his troops—tonight I helped deliver a baby.” She rose to her knees, hands against the rough blue wool of his jacket. “I came to your family. I—”

  He nodded, and actually smiled, his fingers closing gently around her hand where it lay against his chest. “Promise me you’ll behave, that you’ll be careful, that you won’t risk your life or that of our child.”

  With his eyes seeming to project their blue fire into her soul, she nodded. She stared up at him in turn, hot tears burning behind her eyelids with the knowledge that he would leave her again. Her hair tumbled down her back, her body crushed against his.

  “Ian …”

  He groaned. Then he exhaled suddenly and she found herself swept up, and down beneath him one more time.

  “Ian, you’ve got to leave!” she protested.

  “Yes,” he whispered against her flesh.

  “Ian, please—”

  “Alaina …”

  She forgot that she wanted him gone before he could be discovered, before he might have to try slipping away in the morning light. She forgot, for too quickly she was engulfed in the intoxicating passion of his kiss, the feel of his warmth, the texture of wool creating sensation against her flesh, the feel of his naked erection set free against her….

  She clung to him when it was over, loath to let him go, yet whispering, “Ian, it’s dangerous for you to be here, dangerous for you to try to leave.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” he assured her, rising, adjusting his breeches and buckling his scabbard back into place.

  “Right. You’re a man, a McKenzie. Bullets will bounce off of you!” she murmured miserably.

  He walked back to the bed, cupping her chin so that she looked into his eyes. “The bullets won’t bounce off me; I won’t let them hit me.”

  Alaina suppressed her irritation. He was so wrong! “Ian, think of what you’re saying. You’re telling me to be careful, while you walk out into the war.”

  “I’m telling you—warning you—not to get involved in spying activities!” he stated with flat anger. “Because if you do, my love, you may prefer to have Lincoln himself arrest you, rather than me coming upon you. And yes, I went to West Point, Alaina, I am an army officer, and I have little choice but to go to war. And I am sorry for it; God knows, I am sorry for it!” he added fiercely.

  “Oh, Ian,” she said miserably.

  He came to her one last time, holding her, brushing a kiss against the top of her head.

  “Behave,” he said softly.

  She lowered her head. She knew that she couldn’t promise him she would behave. If there was something she could do to save Confederate lives, she would have to do it.

  “If only you could enter the city and come to me every night. …”

  “I am good,” he said with a certain dry amusement, “but not even I can come that often, madam.”

  She pulled away from him. “No, I don’t want you to come. I don’t want you to be in danger. Ian, you must stay away.”

  He smiled. “And you must stay here,” he reminded her, pulling her back against him. He kissed her lips then released her and walked to Sean’s crib. He watched his sleeping son as seconds ticked by. Then he turned. He picked up his plumed hat from where it sat on her bedside table, swept it low to her in a deep bow, and departed into the darkness of the predawn.

  Dark days befell the Confederacy in February 1862. They met with disastrous defeat at Forts Donelson and Henry in Tennessee, and the Secretary of War ordered General Robert E. Lee to withdraw all forces defending
the seaboard of Florida and report to Albert Sidney Johnston in Tennessee. The east coast was to be abandoned, left entirely to its own defenses.

  Julian prepared to pull out of St. Augustine along with the rest of the military. Alaina was torn, certain that Ian had known full well that the Confederacy was going to virtually rape the east coast of Florida when he’d made her promise to stay. Watching Julian pack up his medical supplies, she wondered if she shouldn’t accompany him anyway; circumstances had changed.

  Peter O’Neill came to see her before pulling out with his company.

  “It’s deplorable, what has happened here! But don’t despair, Alaina—there will be Rebel soldiers nearby, just across the river.”

  “I know, Peter.”

  “You haven’t become a traitor, too, Alaina?” he asked her.

  “My heart is with the Confederacy, you know that.”

  He smiled at her. “You’re a regular Rebel angel, Alaina. I know we’ll meet again. I’ll be with the fighting men still in the state, don’t you worry. And…”

  “And what?”

  He hesitated, then swept off his hat. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to kill your husband. I’m going to hunt him down in his lair and kill him. The Panther will die before this war is over.”

  She stepped back from him, appalled. He quickly tried to rectify his words.

  “Alaina, I’m sorry. This is war, and he is the enemy, and I want you to know, I will be there for you. I will be there.”

  “Don’t say this to me, Peter.”

  “You’ll see… I’m afraid that one day you’ll need me,” he told her.

  He tightened his mouth grimly, mounted his horse, and rode away.

  Alaina debated what to do until the last minute. But even as she did so, Dr. Percy came to see her in the guest house. He looked very old, sad, and tired. “A physician, a surgeon in this war must have tools with which to work! Morphine, quinine, and chloroform, astringents, stimulants, and escharotics like nitric acid to burn out bad tissue, form scars! We must keep our men alive; we must keep abreast of the movements of the Union army.”