There were no more sightings of the mysterious man in the next few days. Elizabeth, still nagged by instinct to be cautious, harried Josh and Rutha to be cautious, as well.
Work had settled into a boring routine. Since she did not encourage questions about herself, she found her note numbering edged over the three-thousand mark within the first week of working as a “treasury girl,” a name the women coined for themselves.
The following Monday she made the acquaintance of Mrs. Hugh Morgan. Jenna, the woman was quick to suggest as she was shown the seat next to hers.
Elizabeth noticed the other women’s shocked reaction to Jenna before she realized that the violet-eyed young woman with thick, upswept auburn hair, spoke with a harsh intonation that declared her a Yankee.
Whispered protests were followed by chairs scraping as, one after another, women rose and went en masse to register complaints.
Elizabeth felt torn. She had Colter’s request to consider, along with the fact that she had met the woman’s husband and found him to be the kindest of Colter’s young men. Surely, she argued with herself, it would be unfair to judge Jenna Morgan by an accident of birth.
Mrs. Marstand approached them. “Elizabeth, I fear it will take some time explaining and time for the others to reconcile themselves to having Mrs. Morgan work with us. I hope I may count upon you—”
“Yes,” she interrupted quickly, embarrassed for the other woman to hear herself discussed in such a manner. With a consoling pat on her shoulder, Mrs. Marstand left them.
“I warned Hugh he should find me a position where I could work alone. I write a fine hand and often helped my father with business. Hugh was the one who insisted that I would enjoy being with other women. Just like a man to believe such nonsense.”
“I’m sure it will be fine once they get to know you, Mrs.—”
“Jenna, please. And may I call you Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth decided by the close of the day that Jenna Morgan wielded an arrogant manner to hide a sensitive nature. Compassion overruled caution when Jenna, near to tears, revealed that she had ruined several notes and would be penalized her first day, perhaps costing her the position. Discarding her own work, Elizabeth managed to rework the numbers with careful strokes, blotting her own sequence in the process. The thought that Jenna may have taken work from a Southern woman in need disappeared the moment Jenna confessed that she had lost her child. Elizabeth saw the young woman’s hunger for friendship and her loneliness for her husband when Jenna related the details of her illness before and after the birth of her child. The debts were so staggering her family and Hugh could not hope to pay them alone, and so she had to work.
Shocked by the woman’s emotional outpouring, Elizabeth prayed that Jenna would not expect her to return such intimate confidences. On the contrary, Jenna’s mood seemed to lighten, and Elizabeth fell in with her wish to discuss the war and what was happening in Richmond. She was disappointed that Jenna could shed no light on where Colter and Hugh had gone, thinking herself clever in her roundabout questioning.
As she told Emily that night, one of her fears had been groundless. “Jenna mentioned that she knew I could not fully understand all she had been through since I was not married.”
“There, Elizabeth, just as I hoped. And it will be good for you to have a young woman your own age to help pass the time.”
“We’ll see.” But Elizabeth knew she would encourage the friendship, since Jenna innocently gossiped about Colter and she was hungry to learn what she could.
By the end of Elizabeth’s second week of work and Jenna’s first, Elizabeth was settled in her decision to befriend Jenna. She became angry that the other women continued to shun Jenna and aligned herself with Jenna, even if she understood the motives that prompted such action.
It appeared that Jenna rewarded her loyalty with added tales of several social occasions that she, Hugh and Colter had attended, often singing Colter’s praises. She also informed Elizabeth that Colter never fixed his attentions on any one woman, though it was not for their lack of trying.
Jenna’s frequent mistakes with her notes continued, causing an incident that Elizabeth could not put out of her mind.
“I assure you, Mrs. Marstand,” Jenna protested, voice quavering in light of the woman’s accusatory tone, “I was given short count.”
“But that is impossible. It has never, do you hear, never happened before.”
“Surely, Mrs. Marstand,” Elizabeth interrupted, “you are aware of the circumstances that exist? Won’t you allow for the possibility of it happening?”
“Well…well, yes,” the woman stuttered, quite taken aback at the thought. She then quickly rallied. “Mrs. Morgan, we are all aware that your sympathies may be divided, but those of a treasury girl cannot be. We must make every effort to protect our treasury from having counterfeited notes fall into enemy hands. It is no secret that the gold reserves are dwindling and have been since long before our declaration of fighting for states’ rights. But this condition exists for Yankees as well. If I accept your word that you were short counted, I must accept the implication that another woman here is guilty of a gross violation of trust. However, I will have the matter looked into and see that it is not repeated.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jenna conceded meekly as the woman went off in a huff.
Elizabeth could have sworn that she saw a brief flash of triumph in Jenna’s eyes before a sweep of her light-tipped lashes hid them from view. The incident raised suspicions in Elizabeth’s mind. The more she thought about it, the more she felt it didn’t make sense. What could Jenna think to accomplish by taking a few notes? There had been twenty uncorrectable mistakes to date. Twenty? Elizabeth frowned. When had she begun to keep a mental tally of the ruined notes? She certainly had lost count of the many she had shown Jenna how to fix. Why keep account of the supposedly ruined ones?
Supposedly? Well, it was true. She had not seen the notes.
With a slight shake of her head, Elizabeth refused to believe it. Jenna was simply afraid to be penalized two dollars. Likely, she was upset by being treated as if her place of birth had somehow stigmatized her beyond redemption. There was also the threat of losing her position.
Resolving to keep watch for her own peace of mind, Elizabeth decided she would tell Emily about this and hope that the older woman would confirm her conclusions.
The stress had built to a headache by the time Josh came to get her. Halfway home, an icy rain began to fall. Shaking from the chill, Elizabeth forgot Jenna and her desire to talk to Emily.
If she hadn’t, the shock of finding Colter waiting would have driven it from her mind.
Their initial greeting was a silent exchange of glances. Colter rushed to help Josh stable the mules while Rutha fussed over Elizabeth. She couldn’t make a single protest. The chill had seeped into her bones and her lips felt numb.
Hot coffee liberally dosed with brandy warmed her, but it was Colter’s embrace that turned the winter night into summer after he sent Rutha to tend to her husband.
His kiss stole her breath and replaced it with his own. “You taste like heaven,” he whispered against her lips, his tongue gliding against hers to relearn the hot, silken textures of her mouth.
Spirals of intense pleasure flooded her with yearning, making her ache with desire. “I missed you…missed you so,” she murmured, peppering kisses across his chin before his lips found hers once more and offered a taste of sweet promise.
Elizabeth stood with her back to the fire in the small parlor, her bare toes first curling into the carpet, then stretching to lift her closer to him. Colter’s arm caught around her hips, raising her up and into his body so tightly a feather couldn’t have fit between them.
Again and again, their lips met and parted, half words and fragmented phrases interspersed between ever-deepening kisses until they were both breathless.
“When did you come?”
“An hour ago, no more.”
“How long can you stay?” she managed.
Her wide eyes pleaded as eloquently as her soft, shaken voice. Colter smoothed the loose tendrils of hair from her face. He wanted to lie but couldn’t. “A few hours. I’m stealing them as is.”
Fear made her jerk her head back, her hands framing his beard-stubbled cheeks, holding him still, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Will you court trouble by doing so?”
“No. Lord, no,” he ground out with intensity. “The trouble comes from not being able to hold you, not seeing you. Please, love, don’t think. Don’t do anything more than give me your mouth.” His lips brushed hers, willing her to lose reason, wanting to drag her into the thunder and fire that churned within him.
With surprising strength she held him at bay. “Colter, think. You can’t risk—”
“I can. I will. I need you, Elizabeth. I need your warmth and your love, not war. I’ve had enough of war.”
She fought off a shiver of apprehension. Helpless to argue, she gave him what he claimed he wanted. Her warmth. Her unspoken love. Her mouth.
And he took all he could, savoring these moments to stave off the growing darkness within his soul.
Her heart ached. The wildness that had overtaken them led to a danger point she could not cross. She sensed that Colter was aware of this, too. His kisses became soft touches, as if unwilling to part from her tender offerings. Slowly, so slowly, she listened to his breathing become deeper, steadier, and it helped her to still the pounding of her heart, the coil of tension unfurling inside her.
He cradled her head to his chest, one hand working the pins free until her hair tumbled down in a thick mass. Elizabeth tilted her head to one side to see his face. She was arrested by the sensual line of his mouth and his eyes, indolently watching her. A roguish grin flirted with his lips, but without a word, he granted her the tranquillity of being held without further demand.
Her fingers teased the ragged edge of his sideburn, lingering, without thought to arousing him, to trace the shape of his ear. He drew her fingertips down to place a gentle kiss upon them, then settled her hand on his chest.
“You’d tempt a devil to breach heaven’s gate, love, with your touch. I’m not a saint, Elizabeth, I’ve never claimed to be, but knowing that you wait here makes this a corner of heaven for me.”
Her lashes lifted, revealing eyes bright with the start of tears that she attempted to blink away. Meeting Colter’s gaze, she encountered a hungry look that flushed her cheeks with color. For a few moments more, she held on to the sweet delirium his words offered; they did have something special to cherish even if they could not claim it. Colter embodied both anguish and ecstasy. Anguish for being the man she loved but did not marry, and ecstasy for making her flower again with the ardent passion he openly displayed.
Safety lay in distance. But both her will and her flesh were weak. She did not want to leave the heat and security that being held by him offered.
Colter contemplated her beautiful upturned face, knowing full well the battle raging within her, tempted despite his unspoken vow of patience to persuade her that denial was not the better part of valor. The thought of seducing Elizabeth rose to tantalize him.
As if she sensed the turn of his thoughts, Elizabeth found her will strengthened and she managed to break away. “Have you eaten?” she asked, taking several steps toward the door. It was just now dawning on her that no one, not even Nicole, had come to disturb them.
“My efforts to charm you are poor indeed if you’re thinking about food.”
“Oh, no. You mustn’t believe that.” She made an effort to keep her tone as light and teasing as his. “I’m thoroughly charmed. If you dare to charm me any further, Colonel, I shall expire at your feet.”
“The idea,” he remarked with a decided drawl, “has possibilities.” He offered a considering look that swept her from tangled curls to bare toes.
The silly banter stopped abruptly. Colter’s eyes burned as they held hers in thrall. Languorous memory seemed to glaze her eyes and he was stabbed by an agony of need. The curve of her lush lips, the heightened color of her skin, the hint of a smile, the sudden shudder of a released breath all claimed, I yield.
“Colter, I beg you, don’t,” she implored, frantic to break the web of sexual tension stretching between them.
He turned away. “If you’ll put on dry slippers, we’ll join the others.”
Elizabeth hurried, for his sake and her own. But as they were about to leave the parlor, Colter stopped.
“I’ve meant to ask, why do you sleep down here, apart from everyone?”
“It’s private.”
“Were you planning some entertainment that would disturb their sleep?”
The keenly honed edge in his voice forced her to look at him. “I sometimes have nightmares and wake Nicole.”
“Nightmares?” he repeated softly, almost too softly. He caught her hand with his, raising it to his lips. “Someday, Elizabeth, you must decide to tell me about them.” Using the thumb of his free hand, he brushed lightly at the skin beneath her eyes. “And when that someday comes, little fox, the only shadows that will bruise these eyes will come from spending a night being so loved that rest is denied to you.”
His tenderness was balm to her conscience. She nodded, unwilling to explain that dreams of him had replaced the nightmares, allowing her peace, until Nicole had seen the man lurking nearby. She remembered her promise that she would tell Colter about him, but not now.
The hours flew quickly. Nicole, behaving like a frisky puppy, claimed Colter’s lap, insisting he play the wooden whistle he had given her. Taking up the hand-carved instrument embellished with flowers, he explained that many of the soldiers whittled to pass the long hours. Nicole refused her bedtime with his support, her tiny arms locked around his neck, her head nestled on his broad shoulder. There she finally slept.
Elizabeth was touched by a flicker of envy. It shamed her to admit that she wanted to steal their child’s position for herself. She smiled at him, silently offering thanks for his generous sharing with Nicole. All too soon, Rutha was lifting the child to carry her up to bed, and Colter rose. It was time for him to leave.
“One last thing before I leave you, Elizabeth. Josh told me what happened with Nicole. I confess, I am at fault for not telling you that he’s my man. I couldn’t rest easy without knowing there was someone here that could protect you both.”
She couldn’t be angry. He meant well, but the fright she had suffered had left its mark. Emily quietly retired after bidding him a safe journey, Josh left to fetch Colter’s horse, and they were once again alone. She smoothed the tiered cape of his greatcoat, needing to touch him until the last bitter minute.
“Josh,” Colter continued briskly, “has already made a place in the hayloft for my man to keep him out of the elements, but within good watching distance. Allow me this, Elizabeth, for it offers peace of mind.”
“As you wish,” she returned, knowing she would promise him anything he asked for right now.
“And you, little fox,” he murmured, caressing her hair with a swift bold stroke, “keep yourself and our child safe and warm.” He pulled on his gauntlets and took his hat from her, bending to kiss her with a fierce intensity. With her whisper for him to keep safe and warm, as well, Colter left.
He rode out in the icy rain, refusing to dwell on parting, keeping the few hours of peace as a talisman against the coming days.
Hugh Morgan also rode out from Richmond, heading toward their planned rendezvous, but with a despair that caused him no end of anguish.
Jenna was not safely ensconced in their hotel room. No one remembered seeing her since the morning, when she had been escorted to work. The precious hours that Colter had stolen for all of them were wasted in a futile search.
By the time he reached their point of meeting outside the city, Brice, Andre and Colter were there. Hugh longed to hear Colter tell him that Jenna had been with Elizabeth. When he made no mention, Hugh felt his last hope was crushed. He said nothing as they rode north, for he knew what insidious fear could do to a man about to engage the enemy.
But it crept its way inside him, leaving him most vulnerable.