Fifteen

 

No more than an hour later, Lily turned off the well-worn path she had followed faithfully and slowed her mare as they slipped through a bank of tall trees. With close observation, it was clear that the trail had once cut a clear path through the thick expanse of trees, but it was almost completely covered now by encroaching brush and weeds.

The charred remains of a small house sat bleakly in the near distance, its blackened skeleton the only sign that a family had once lived there. The destruction was complete and couldn’t hide from the harsh sunlight of late summer. Weeds grew through the charred boards of what had once been a front porch, and vines climbed a broken rail that reached hopelessly upward.

The barn showed the same signs of neglect, but had been spared the fire that had gutted the house. The barn door hung crookedly from the broken hinge, and weeds had taken over the ground on all sides of the structure. There were gaping holes in the roof, and gaping “windows” at sporadic intervals, where whole boards had fallen away.

Lily jumped from her mare and waited for Quint to do the same. When his feet touched the ground, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms. She never would have shown it, but she had been terrified for him. She lifted her face, touched a cheek that was rough with dark stubble, and smiled as Quint threaded his fingers through her hair.

He held her tightly, and Lily pressed her body against his, reveling in his warmth. She had missed him, terribly, more than she’d thought possible.

Reluctantly, Lily pulled away from him. There was feed and water in the barn for their horses, and together they unsaddled the mounts and led them into prepared stables. Quint actually seemed to be surprised that she had prepared their nest so well.

The shade of the barn was comfortingly cool, and shafts of sunlight that fell through the unsturdy roof marked the dirt floor.

Quint had decided that he had to tell Lily the truth. Soon. She deserved the truth, and she deserved to hear it from him. She would hate what he had done, but would she hate him? Did she love him enough to leave behind what she was bound to see as his betrayal?

He stood with both hands gripping the top of a stall, leaning forward with his head hanging slightly, the tension tightening his shoulders and his back. He didn’t want to tell her, didn’t want to see her face when she learned the truth.

Lily slipped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head between his shoulder blades.

“We can’t stay here long,” she said softly. “But the horses need to rest before we head south, and I’ve got a change of clothes for both of us and a loaf of bread stashed in the loft.”

“You didn’t forget anything, did you?” he whispered.

“I hope not.”

“Jesus, Lily.” Quint turned and wrapped his arms around her. “You could’ve been killed.” He’d never forget the fear and helplessness he’d felt when he’d seen the sergeant aim his pistol at Lily, intending to fire. Intending to kill her.

“But I wasn’t,” she whispered, no anxiety in her voice. “I had to get you out. You didn’t belong there.”

Quint knew he should tell her the truth before they went any further. Lily was kissing the base of his throat, and if he didn’t tell her now he’d lose his nerve, because the thought of losing Lily was terrifying. The thought of losing Lily as she lay in his arms was impossible to comprehend.

“I love you, Lily,” he whispered. She had to know that was true. “But I have to tell you…. ”

“I already know,” Lily answered, never lifting her head from his chest.

Quint’s blood turned cold. He might have been lying on that frozen ground he remembered so well, the chill went so deep. “What do you know?”

“You were a soldier, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“For the Union?”

“Yes.” Quint’s answer was harsh and low.

Lily lifted her head and stared, unblinking, into his eyes. Her own eyes were as clear and as turquoise as the sea around Nassau. Bright and unflinching. “It doesn’t matter.”

“How did you know?” Quint asked, realizing that she still didn’t know the worst of it. That he was a spy.

“Bits and pieces. The bullet wound in your thigh. It had to have been a recent injury for your limp to have improved so much in the past few weeks. I wasn’t sure at first what side you’d fought for, though I suspected you would have told me if you’d been fighting for the Confederacy. But in the warden’s office, when he said he didn’t believe your claims, that’s when I knew.” Lily turned her attention to Quint’s neck and chest, and she wound her fingers through the hair that curled over his collar.

Quint couldn’t think with her lips on his skin, with her fingers brushing against the back of his neck. He lost himself in the sensations of her touch, the smell of her hair. It was impossible, but she still smelled of the sea and tropical flowers, as well as the sun. Any other explanations he had to offer would have to wait for later.

They half walked, half danced, to an empty stall and Quint lowered Lily to the straw-covered ground. They knelt in the broken shadows of the abandoned stall, knee to knee, thigh to thigh, lips bonded together with the reckless passion that had, in a matter of weeks, changed their lives, even the way they looked at the world around them.

Lily slid her hands away from Quint just long enough to disengage the saber from her side and toss it away. The weapon landed with a muted clank in the dirt far behind them. She moaned low in her throat when Quint deepened the kiss, probing hungrily with his tongue.

Quint drew the Colt from his waistband and he cast it away with an unconcerned flick of his wrist, diverting none of his attention from Lily. She tasted as tempting as she smelled, and he closed his eyes to shut out everything else. Everything but the senses she aroused.

They had been apart too long, and their fingers flew to remove the clothing that separated them, burdens to be flung aside. Lily unbuttoned her own shirt and reached for the buttons that held Quint’s trousers fastened. His shirt was whipped over his head and dropped to the ground, and he turned his attention to the black boots and tight trousers Lily wore. Her boots flew over his shoulder to land with a thud that startled the horses. Her black trousers sailed through the air to join the saber and pistol, and the remainder of Quint’s prison garb landed in a heap almost as far away from them as Lily’s boots.

She was smiling at him, then laughing as he tossed their clothing aside. It was a laugh of pure joy and abandonment, and she was silenced only when Quint lowered her back into the straw, towering over her and kissing her deeply and thoroughly.

That was all they needed, and Quint buried himself in her quickly, deeply, sheathing himself inside her warmth as if she could save him.

Lily closed her eyes and sucked her breath in sharply, dazzled by the sheer magic of it all. To feel him inside her, to know that he was as lost in her as she was in him, was the only true magic she had ever known.

He stroked her, slow and fast. Kissed her deep one moment and feathery the next. What had been soothing became turbulent, and Lily wrapped her legs around Quint’s hips, lifting herself higher, raising herself to meet his thrust as that sharp release took hold of her body. She cried out his name, no longer forced to stifle her cries as she had been on board the Chameleon. And then she felt Quint’s completion, felt his seed released within her.

Quint didn’t want to leave Lily just yet. It was over too quickly, and he wanted more of her. He knew he would never have enough of Lily.

“Marry me, Lily,” he whispered, towering over her and scattering kisses over her face and her slender throat.

“I suppose I should,” she murmured contentedly, rubbing her foot against his leg.

“Is that a yes?” Quint asked, his uncertainty making his voice a bit too gruff.

“That’s a yes, Quintin Tyler.” Lily looked deep into his eyes. “Bloody hell, married to a Yankee soldier.”

“Ex-Yankee soldier,” Quint corrected her. With Lily beneath him, her bare skin against his own, he could think more clearly, or so it seemed as he gazed down at her. A sliver of sunlight, peeking through the side of the dilapidated barn, crossed her face.

He couldn’t go back. He’d shot a Union soldier. No one would care that the sergeant had been about to kill the woman he loved. To return would mean prison and death. Nothing mattered but Lily.

“Where will we go, Quint, my love?” Lily whispered. Her hands traced the planes of his face.

“Say that again,” he ordered gruffly, burying his face against her neck.

“Where will we go?” she teased.

“The other part.”

“Quint, my love,” she whispered. He grazed his rough beard lightly against her cheek and her neck as he lowered his face to her, contentedly brushing his lips against her soft skin.

“That’s the part I wanted to hear again.” He cupped a breast in his hand and ran his thumb gently over her nipple. Lily arched her back slightly and pressed herself into his hand, leaning her head back and purring like a kitten.

“It doesn’t matter where we go,” Lily said, languidly breathless. Her eyes were hooded as Quint continued to caress her body in ways that he knew drove her wild with wanting him. “As long as we’re together.”

“Do you mean that?” Quint lifted his head to look into her eyes.

“Quint, my love.” Lily gave him that trusting and heartfelt smile that could make him forget, for a while, that life outside the abandoned barn went on as before. “You and I, together, can conquer anything.”

She meant that. He could read the sincerity in her expressive eyes. He couldn’t tell her now. After they were married, after he’d shown her again and again how much he loved her, then he would tell her the truth. All of it.

He grew and stirred within her, and Lily’s smile widened. They loved one another with slow tenderness, their earlier frenzy behind them. It was a tenderness born of love and caring and passion—and a knowledge that there was a lifetime of such afternoons ahead of them.

 

Along with their clean clothes and a simple meal was a small bag of gold Lily had hidden in the loft. She had hated to leave her trunk with the cleverly hidden false bottom, but was practical enough to bring only what she could carry in a satchel that would fit behind her saddle. Besides the gold there were three dresses, one to wear and two that could be rolled up tightly and stored in the bag along with a hairbrush and two clean shirts for Quint.

The bedroll would fit behind Quint’s cantle, and there was dried beef and hardtack in the saddlebags. She didn’t have any paper money, but in these times that was a blessing. Anyone would be happy to take gold or silver in payment for their needs along the road. A room, perhaps, and certainly more provisions.

They would have liked to spend the night in the ramshackle barn, but they were still too close to Baltimore to be comfortable. So they changed into fresh clothes, shared a portion of the fresh bread Lily had purchased in town, and left the deserted farm. They were headed south. That was as far ahead as they had planned. Virginia. Lily wanted to stop by her home and show it to Quint. And to see for herself how it had fared. Funny, but it no longer seemed like home to her. Home was her house in Nassau, if that was where they decided to go. In truth, home was wherever Quint was, and that awareness warmed her as they rode down the dim path in the twilight hours.

 

They traveled south, keeping to the back roads and riding until it was too dark to see even a few feet in front of them. They camped a short distance from the trail, keeping a cold camp and sleeping under a thin blanket, snuggled together with Lily’s head nestled against Quint’s shoulder, her leg thrown over his. It wasn’t warmth they were seeking under the stars. The night was mild, with warm air pushed by a gentle breeze. What they sought was the comfort of knowing that they were not alone, that they had become a part of something more than they had been before.

Lily was exhausted and fell asleep almost immediately, but Quint’s rest came not so quickly or so deep. He held Lily as though she might slip away in the night if he didn’t. The knowledge of his lie nibbled at his conscience, even as he told himself that he had no choice.

They woke while the sky was still gray and came together as naturally as if they had never been apart. They made love lazily, without words, and Lily never even opened her eyes. Quint woke her to a world of physical sensations, following the instincts that guided his body.

When Lily dressed, she donned a full-skirted dress that would allow her to ride astride, though she complained that she’d much rather wear her trousers. One concession she refused to make. Beneath the simple dress Lily wore her knee-high black boots. They were sturdy and more practical than any more feminine substitutes she could have acquired.

Quint was always on alert for Union patrols, but the trails they followed were all but deserted. Only twice during the day did they lead their horses from the trail to hide while others passed. The two lone travelers they encountered were no threat. They were simple people, ragged and weary, and if they had ever been soldiers they’d lost their battle edge long ago. Neither of them stopped to look into the dense forest that lined the road, sensing the presence of others. They simply plodded past at a lethargic pace, eyes on the road, feet kicking up dust as they dragged drearily by.

They stopped before dark, setting up camp in a secluded valley. It would be another cold camp, even though they’d seen no evidence of either army. Quint wouldn’t take the chance of alerting the soldiers that were bound to be close by, either Union or Confederate.

Lily handed Quint a strip of dried meat and a piece of hardtack. The biscuit was hard, but edible, and he washed it down with water from the canteen they shared.

Quint sat on the hard ground with his back against an old tree. The small clearing they were in was surrounded by such giant growths, dwarfing the lovers in the dying light. He’d said little since they’d stopped, and a frown creased his brow.

He couldn’t run away. That certainty had come to him somewhere on the road, not a sudden revelation but a gradual and sure knowledge. He wasn’t a deserter. It hadn’t been a whim that had driven him from his home and family, and his motivations were no less clear now than they had been then. He would marry Lily, get her to safety, and return to Washington to face Colonel Fairfax. It wouldn’t be easy to explain away what had happened, but neither would it be impossible.

“Quint, my love,” Lily said, settling herself between his legs and reclining against his chest. “What are you thinking about? You look positively morose.”

Quint kissed the top of her head and wrapped an arm around her. “Nothing.”

Lily twisted around and turned her face up to his. She fingered the beard that had begun to grow the night the Chameleon was destroyed. His hair was so long that it was beginning to curl over his collar, and Lily trailed her fingers through the long strands.

“You’re beginning to look like a pirate, Quintin Tyler.” She gave him a mock pout. “The beard is rather dashing, but I don’t think I like it. It hides too much of your face from me.”

Quint bent down to kiss her softly. His decision meant that he would have to leave her behind, that they would be separated for months, or even years.

When he pulled away from her, Lily reached out and ran a lightly browned finger along his nose. “You never did tell me how you broke your nose.”

Quint wrapped both arms around her and held her tight. “It was while I was in the infantry.” His tone was light and he gave her a crooked smile. “A sergeant tried to toss me a piece of hardtack. My attention was diverted and it hit me right on the beak. As a matter of fact,” he continued even as Lily began to giggle, “I believe it might have been the same piece of sheet-iron cracker we had for supper tonight.”

He nestled a breast in one hand and ran his thumb over her nipple, and it hardened beneath the cotton of the plain dress she wore. Lily laid her head back against his shoulder, and her laughter stopped.

“That’s not true,” she murmured softly.

“No, it isn’t.” Quint unbuttoned her dress with one hand while the other pushed the voluminous skirt high to reveal creamy thighs.

After he made love to her, he slept in her arms and held her close. Twice in the night he woke with a start, only to find Lily sleeping peacefully against him. She’d found her peace with him, but Quint felt as though he were still searching. It wouldn’t be finished until he told her the truth, and the war was over. Only then would he know the peace that was etched on her face.

 

Quint and Lily were married the next morning, in a small country church that had been long neglected. White paint was peeling, and several windows had been broken. Whether they’d been shot out or broken by vandalous children with rocks, it was impossible to tell. But the church had suffered, as most of Virginia had suffered.

Whatever the reason for the building’s condition, the preacher seemed grateful for the gold coin Quint pressed into his hand. There were no questions, even though Quint knew he and Lily didn’t look like an especially prosperous couple.

They had spent the morning just outside the small town, bathing in a swift-running creek. Lily’s hair was still damp, curling in a pale brown-and-golden cascade down her back.

If he didn’t remember anything else about this day, Quint knew he would never forget the way Lily looked. She’d dressed herself in a vivid blue linen gown with just a touch of lace at the collar. The blue made her eyes shine with green fire, and tranquility made her face glow. That damp hair curled around her face as well as down her back.

Standing before the preacher, repeating the words with his eyes on Lily’s face, Quint committed her face to memory. The light sprinkling of freckles, those perfectly shaped lips. She seemed so sure of their future, so unafraid. She would have fire in her eyes when he told her what he’d done, and what he still planned to do, but by then she would be his wife. She would know how much he loved her.

Quint allowed himself a rare moment of peace. There was so little beauty in the world anymore—real beauty, moments like this one that transcended reality. It wouldn’t last, so he savored it, as he savored the love in Lily’s eyes, a love so deep, it almost hurt to look at it.

Lily deserved a fancy wedding, with flowers and candles and a church filled with friends and family, but she seemed content with the shell of a building and the preacher’s own wife as a witness.

The preacher said a prayer for them at the altar and promised with a small smile to remember them in his prayers again that night.

He pledged himself to remember them in his prayers in the weeks and months to come, a vision of love and faith in a time of hate and hopelessness.