Blane’s tongue parted her lips and wandered inside her mouth. His body was smoldering with need for hers. Her responses kindled his desires. He had waited so long for this moment, had craved her so fiercely. His quivering fingers unbuttoned her gown to allow his hand to fondle a breast. His mouth left hers to trail kisses down her throat to the creamy mound, and his tongue circled its protruding point before he captured it with his mouth. His hand roamed down her side and worked her gown above her hips. It fondled a firm buttock and stroked her thigh. Slowly and gently his hand searched for a fuzzy covering and another taut peak. Ever so skillfully and gently, his finger moved up and down its satiny surface, though it had come to life even before his encouraging strokes.
Shannon derived great pleasure and stimulation from his actions, and she wanted them to continue. Her stomach briefly tightened as he deftly worked his skills on her body, but she refused to think about anything or anyone except Blane and this rapture he was inspiring. Her hands roamed his powerful shoulders as she dreamily floated on romantic clouds, her senses alive and her body aflame.
Blane wanted and needed to feel her flesh against his. He pushed the gown higher until it wadded beneath her arms, exposing her ivory skin to his gaze and touch. His mouth took hers almost savagely as he clasped her to him. When Shannon said and did nothing to halt him, he moved atop her. Tenderly he parted her thighs and prepared to enter her, cautioning himself to be gentle. As his mouth and hands provocatively distracted her, he tentatively pressed his manhood against her stubborn entrance. Finally, he thrust within her.
Shannon’s outcry was muffled by his mouth. She struggled to push him away. When Blane’s lips left hers, she accused in panic, “You’re hurting me. We shouldn’t be doing this.”
Blane hesitated. He was already within her and his shaft was burning with desire. He wondered if he was too large for her small body. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered against her lips.
His warm breath and tenderness stirred Shannon, for the pain was fleeing swiftly. She kissed him and hugged him tightly but didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t want him to withdraw from her. A curious warmth had begun consuming her heart and body. She would wait a while longer to see if the pain returned.
Blane sensed her indecision. His mouth skillfully worked on hers, then at her breasts. He caressed her, hoping her passion would return. Soon, she was clinging to him and responding again. He moved gingerly until he was assured he wasn’t hurting her. Then he set a seductive pattern, entering and withdrawing as he inflamed the nerves inside her womanhood. “I’ve wanted you since that night you sneaked into my room, Shannon. You’ve been driving me wild with hunger. Surely I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
Blane was right. The movements were sheer bliss. She relaxed and allowed him free rein over her body and passions. The flames built until Shannon was positive they would be consumed by them. Never had anything felt so wonderful in her life. She arched her body to meet his thrusts. Her arms held him possessively. Now she understood the yearning that had chewed at her every time she looked at him.
Shannon’s surrender was straining Blane’s control and his body shuddered from the stress on it. He worked feverishly on her release, fearing his own would come too soon. When she began to writhe and moan beneath him, he knew she was racing up passion’s spiral. He increased his pace, teasing and tantalizing her beyond defeat. His lips went to her ear to entreat hoarsely, “Come to me, Shannon. Yield to me, love.”
Ecstasy burst within Shannon. Tiny fingers of exquisite pleasure stroked her womanhood. Her head thrashed on his pillow as her body demanded to experience every tingling sensation he was creating.
Blane dismissed his guard and pounded hungrily into her receptive body. His potent release stunned him. He almost cried aloud as the staggering spasms overwhelmed his body and mind, as if sending shocks through them. He found he was gasping for air and felt sweat beading on his face and frame. He labored lovingly until he had nothing left to give. Then he rolled to his side, carrying Shannon with him. He was exhausted but utterly content. His arms encircled her as he placed kisses over her face. He wanted her near him, touching him, a part of him.
Neither spoke or moved. They merely felt and savored. Gradually both fell asleep, locked in each other’s arms.
When Blane awoke, he watched the woman beside him and he was filled with curious emotions. He had never enjoyed lovemaking more than he had last night. He felt as if Shannon belonged to him. He arose, careful not to disturb her. She needed her rest, for they would have an arduous few days ahead of them. He went to the basin and washed quietly. Then he dressed and silently unbolted the door. Placing the lantern on the table, he brightened its glow so she would awaken with plenty of light to chase away any lingering fears. He closed the door behind him, then noiselessly mounted the steps.
He greeted Mary and Joseph cheerfully. “That’s the best night I’ve had in ages. I think I’ll have a look around. I’ll return shortly.”
Mary handed him a cup of coffee to drink during his stroll. When Shannon didn’t appear soon, Mary wondered if she had fallen asleep again. She went downstairs and peeked into the room. “Mrs. Stevens? You’d best rise and dress, child. Breakfast will be ready shortly.”
Shannon stirred and sighed, then glanced toward the door at the smiling woman. “Good morning. I’ll be ready in a little while.”
After the woman closed the door, Shannon tossed aside the cover. The borrowed gown was wrinkled terribly. Shannon removed it and started to bathe. She noticed the dried blood washing off her skin onto the cloth, and knew its meaning. Had she been crazy to make love to a man she hardly knew? What was Blane thinking about her this morning? No doubt he was panicked at the idea of what an entangling situation this could be. Would he be sorry? Would he behave differently?
She dressed in her pants and shirt, then pulled on her boots. She unbraided her hair, brushed it, and braided it again neatly. As she went to straighten the bed, bloodstains caught her eye. She flushed red and seized the basin, soap, and a cloth. She had to wash away the evidence of their wanton union.
The door opened and Blane entered. He stared at Shannon in confusion. Walking over to her, he asked, “What are you doing, love?”
Shannon had been concentrating so hard that she hadn’t heard his boots on the steps. At the sound of his voice, her left hand covered the stain. “Nothing,” she replied modestly.
Blane looked down at her bowed head and rigid body as she knelt by the bed. Women didn’t pray with soapy cloths in their hands and basins of water at their feet. Noticing the wetness of the sheet beneath her hand, he grasped it and lifted it.
Shannon stiffened her arm in an attempt to prevent his action as she shrieked, “No! Don’t, Blane. I’ll be there soon. Wait for me upstairs.”
Blane’s bewildered gaze went from the bloodstains to Shannon’s head. Although he was still holding her wrist captive, she didn’t look up at him or yank it free. All of the clues settled in and alerted Blane to the severity of the situation and to her embarrassment. He should have guessed last night she was a virgin! The difficulty hadn’t come from his size or the length of time since she had made love to a man. A flurry of questions and emotions filled him. What about Hawke? What about Thornton’s charges and insults? He was baffled, pleased, and dismayed all at the same time, and exceedingly thankful that Clifford had failed! He would have to reassess his thoughts, feelings, and actions now.
Shannon murmured softly, “I was trying to wash the sheet. You know what they’ll think when they see this. They’ll know we lied.”
Recalling his jest to the Thomases earlier, he chuckled. “They’ll think we spent our first night together in this room. Don’t worry about the sheet,” he coaxed, pulling her to her feet. “It isn’t important. Except to prove you belong to me now.” He kissed her feverishly.
“You aren’t upset about this?” she asked uncertainly.
“No, love. Unless it’s for not waking you up and making love to you again this morning. I’ve never known a woman like you.”
“Is that good or bad?” she inquired, relaxing slightly.
“So far, a little of both,” he replied honestly. “If you’re of a mind to, you can make it all good for me from now on.”
“Me? You’re the one who’s always waxing good and bad, hot and cold. I never know what mood or behavior to expect from you.”
“I can be mulish at times, can’t I?” he said beguilingly, extricating himself from her entrapping question. “But sometimes you’re to blame.”
“Sometimes you’re absolutely right. Aren’t they waiting for us to join them for breakfast?” she hinted, becoming too warm in his arms.
He laughed. “I think I’m being slyly rejected or dismissed.”
“I think you’re absolutely right again,” she teased.
Their eyes met and spoke. Blane’s palm moved over her hair, exploring its silkiness. When she tried to lower her head, he caught her braid and pulled on it, lifting her chin. He was grinning when their gazes fused. “You can’t get away from me, Shannon.”
Just before his mouth closed over hers, she whispered, “I’m not sure I want to.” Her arms rose and went around his neck.
Blane’s arms overlapped her back. He lifted her light body from the floor and locked her snugly against him as he kissed her urgently. He refused to release her until Mary called down the steps to ask if they were ready to eat. Blane smiled into Shannon’s face as he replied, “Ready. Be there momentarily.” To Shannon, he whispered, “But I wish the food were different to match my appetite. Yep, I was crazy to let you sleep late, Mrs. Stevens.”
Shannon boldly inquired, “Why did you?”
“Fear. I was afraid you’d be too…uncomfortable this soon after…last night. Did I hurt you? I wanted you so much I had trouble restraining myself.”
“You were absolutely wonderful, Mister Stevens. I’m glad it was you here with me last night. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
After breakfast, Shannon and Blane expressed their thanks and said their good-byes. Mary Thomas prepared them a light snack for midday, then gave Blane a bundle that held two cans of mixed vegetables for soup. She told him the soup could be warmed right in the can over a campfire. Adding a few more items, the woman smiled and wished them success.
Once on the trail, Blane told Shannon, “Mary gave me the names of two safe houses along the way. The password is Armageddon. If you can sing or play the piano, she said there’s a music hall in Wilmington where you can rest and work while I check out the ports for blockade runners. She said rumor has it that Rose Greenhow, the famous Rebel spy, will be returning soon from London with money for the Confederacy. I surely would love to prevent any new flow of money and supplies from filtering in. Joseph told me the runner boats come in around Cape Fear River. Would it be all right for me to leave you there for a week or so?” he asked surprisingly.
“I’ve heard of Rose. She published a book last year about her experiences. To hear her tell it, she’s single-handedly supplying the South with all the information they need to win this war. They’ve imprisoned her on several occasions. She implicated some powerful men. Is it true that Queen Victoria received her when she docked in England?”
“From what I’ve heard, yes. Of course, a woman of such daring and courage would impress another woman in power. She also met Napolean the Third. They’ve been treating her like a heroine over there. No wonder she finds spying so stimulating and believes her own reputation.”
“Why would the British and French behave so badly? Don’t they realize the North is the strongest power over here?”
“They need cotton and tobacco, and they’re Southern crops. They’ve loaned the South money against future crops, and that’ll hurt the South once this war ends. Did you know Rose lived only a few blocks from the White House on Sixteenth Street? Too bad she wasn’t around for you to worm you way into her confidence. We could use knowledge of her operation and agents.”
“Was she really as powerful and devious as the papers said?”
“President Buchanan used to call on her frequently, as did many cabinet members, judges, and congressmen. She’s always been very political. Rose has a knack for enticing information.”
“Is she beautiful?” Shannon inquired curiously.
“She has a look of elegance and refinement. She’s dark eyed and dark haired like a Spaniard. She’s friendly and charming. I believe she’s nearly forty-five now. She’s learned how to wrap men around her finger with those smiles and airs of hers. And Rose is smart. She makes certain she doesn’t get caught with anything damaging on her. The man who became her nemesis is Allan Pinkerton, the famous detective. He was determined not to give her a moment’s peace. But even in prison, she ruled the drab setting like a banished queen.”
Shannon listened to Blane’s voice and laughter. Other than the talk by the river about his family, this was the most conversing he had done with her since they had been thrown together. She liked this genial facet of his personality. “Have you ever met Colonel John Mosby?” she asked.
“That so-called raider. He and his band are nothing but renegades. The Rebels see him as a hero, but he’s cold and cruel and calculating. I’d like to put him and his unit out of business.”
“Did you ever meet him?” she pressed again.
“Once. I’ll never forget him. He’s a lanky man with thin lips and piercing eyes. He terrorizes the countryside and nibbles at Union flanks. He’s one of those people who believes it’s all right to win the war any way possible or necessary. I’ll give him his due; he does command loyalty and seems fearless. Lincoln got word Mosby’s Rangers were terrorizing the Union captives at Andersonville Prison. Captain Wirz, that blood-thirsty Swiss, finally let some of the inmates capture and slay several of the raiders. That broke their power hold. Sometimes it’s bad inside those camps. Men fight or kill over food or a blanket. It’s the animal instinct for survival. They say Wirz is in constant pain from an old wound and that’s why he’s so savage and unfeeling.”
Seeing Shannon’s pained look, Blane comprehended his mistake. He wished he hadn’t mentioned prisons, especially Andersonville. “I suppose Lincoln’s working hard right now just to get re-elected. Sherman’s victories should help him.” Instantly Blane knew he had introduced another bad topic. “You didn’t answer me earlier. Can you sing and play music?”
Shannon was aware of his sudden changes in subjects. She let him have his way. “Yes, I can do both. I’ll be fine in Wilmington.”
“Is there anything you can’t do?” he teased, reaching back to tickle her. She wriggled away but didn’t laugh. He grimaced.
“I can’t find my brother and help him escape.”
“Don’t worry, Shannon. I promise you I’ll find Corry Greenleaf.”
Shannon didn’t notice his frosty tone of voice as she hugged him. “Have you ever met the mysterious spy called the Blade?”
“No one who meets the Blade ever knows it. He’s smart. How do you know about him?” Blane asked, placing his hand over hers.
“I read about him in the papers, and people talked about him at most gatherings. I wonder who he is and why he remains so secretive.”
“Obviously to save his life and to get information more easily. I could do more if my face and name weren’t so well known. Same goes for you, Flame,” he asserted, then chuckled strangely.
“What do you mean?”
“By now, every area we’ve passed through has heard of the beautiful and daring Union spy called the Flame. If we don’t keep moving, that reputation will catch up to and entangle us.”
“You’re teasing me,” she accused merrily.
“Not much. Be careful and don’t expose yourself to the wrong people. We know Clifford and Travers are dogging you. I would guess that Cathy’s let your new identity slip to someone. News travels fast on spy lines. Within a month or two, you’ll be as legendary as the Blade.”
“Don’t be silly. I haven’t done anything to earn fame or infamy.”
“You’re wrong, love. When questions start being asked, every man who’s met you will add more color and detail to those encounters. Since they couldn’t capture you, they’ll have to make up some wild story about your clever deception and escape. Don’t you see, love? In times like these, people need heroines and heroes; others need someone to blame for their errors and weaknesses. They enjoy creating legends, polishing them, making them special, unconquerable, infallible. Who better than a beautiful, unselfish angel who courts death and danger to help them? Myths like Flame and Blade inspire hope and courage.”
“Doesn’t that place our lives in more danger? Isn’t it hard to carry off secret missions when people know who and what you are?” she fretted aloud. “No wonder the Blade keeps himself unknown.”
Blane smiled. “Myths provide a feeling of excitement and romance, a stimulating aura of mystery, a distraction from bloody reality. That’s why the Blade appeals to so many people. He’s said to be clever, mysterious, powerful, fearless. They think he’s someone to respect, to admire, to envy, to hate.”
“Do you envy him, Blane?”
Blane was quiet for a moment before replying, “No, I don’t. He has to remain a loner. Being a legend is an awesome responsibility.”
“Do you respect and admire him?” she continued, intrigued.
“Sometimes I don’t and sometimes I do. Sometimes he’s forced to do things for the Union that hurt innocent people. Sometimes he does or says anything necessary for the success of his mission. Sometimes he gets blame or credit that he doesn’t earn. On the whole, he’s an honorable man. But sometimes his personal honor gets all tangled up with love and loyalty for his country.”
“Has he hurt you or used you?” she probed at his odd tone.
“Yes, he’s made me do something that might be wrong.”
“Might be wrong? How could he make you do anything against your will? You’re the most fearless and powerful man I know. From your remarks, I thought you hadn’t met him.”
“He’s a complicated man; I really don’t know him at all, not anymore. Maybe the war’s changed him. All I know is I promised Lincoln I would do whatever needed to be done to help end this war.”
“I don’t think I would like this Blade. I’m not sure I agree that to use any means necessary to obtain victory is just. An honorable man has to know where to draw the line between right and wrong, even in war.”
“That’s the trouble during war, Shannon. How does one truly know the difference between right and wrong, between good and evil? Take our loyalties and assignments. We do some things that are bad and wrong, in the name of helping good and right. What if we’re forced to kill a Rebel officer to steal information or to save our lives? Would that theft or murder be justified? If a town or home is attacked and destroyed because of the information we provide, is that wrong or our way of fighting evil? In war, the lines are fuzzy and distorted, and justice isn’t black and white. Where do we draw our line, Flame?”
“I don’t know. I suppose each incident has to be judged when it arises. Before the war, I would have sworn I couldn’t slay a man for any reason. I would never have stolen or deceived decent folk. There are many things I wouldn’t have done if this war hadn’t started. It’s so hard to know what’s right and wrong these days.”
They had talked through their noon meal and during most of their ride. By keeping off the road and away from settlements and homes, they had encountered very few people. On occasion and at a distance, they had seen camps where homeless families or wounded soldiers were awaiting their fates. Shortly before sundown, Blane found a promising spot for them to camp for the night.
Dan was left to graze and drink near a creek. “You stay here while I take a look around,” Blane ordered as usual.
When he returned, he teased, “Why isn’t my supper ready?”
“You didn’t give me permission to build a fire, sir.”
“Good girl,” he complimented her intelligence. “We’ll have to eat cold food tonight. I could make out a large camp not too far away.”
“Which side?” she questioned anxiously.
“Rebs. Don’t worry. We’ll eat and nap, then sneak around them before daylight. We’re beyond their sentries’ range.”
Shannon didn’t want to eat cold vegetables from a can, but she was hungry. “Let’s save the soup for a fire,” she coaxed.
“That leaves carrots, peaches, and green beans to share.”
Shannon wrinkled her nose and brow. “Do the honors, sir.”
When Shannon could stomach no more of their meal, she went to the creek to wash her hands and face. Blane joined her, squatting and splashing water on his face and neck. Sitting on the bedroll, Shannon unbraided her hair and began brushing it.
Blane suggested, “Tell me about your family and home.”
Shannon ceased her chore and stared ahead thoughtfully. She was glad he wanted to know about her, “Andrew Greenleaf was an unusual man to come from genteel aristocratic stock. He didn’t think or behave like most Southern landowners who possessed wealth and a matchless bloodline. In a way, he was selfish and rebellious. You Texans would call him a maverick or a renegade, but he was a clever and subtle one. I don’t think Papa ever realized that his wishes came first. There were times when I wondered if I knew him or understood him at all. He was one of those dreamers who felt that if people didn’t know certain things, they couldn’t be hurt or influenced by them. And yet, family honor and name were very important to him, sometimes too important,” she murmured, pushing aside those painful memories.
“Papa could be tough, even merciless, if necessary. Most of the time, he was a good man, a strong one with a compelling personality. After Mama died, he was restless. That’s when he got mixed up with Simon Travers; he wanted someone to help him run the factor business. With memories of Mama haunting him at Greenleaf, he needed to get away from the plantation for long spells. He never believed in slavery, so we employed workers for the fields and in our home. Papa traveled up and down the coast and to Misssissippi and Louisiana, buying or bargaining for cotton crops. Until ’56, he spent a lot of time in your Texas. He had made…special friends there during the Mexican War. Then he began staying home more, letting Simon handle most of the firm’s affairs. I was hoping he would meet another special woman, but he never remarried. Losing his love was extremely hard on him—too hard.”
Shannon began brushing her hair again as she talked. “Papa believed that a man was responsible for his own fate and good fortune. And he didn’t think a woman should have any say-so about business or politics. I was glad he took those trips so I could do whatever I pleased. When Papa was around, I had to be the perfect lady. I had to entertain neighbors like the Thorntons and their offensive son, James. For awhile I was terrified old man Thornton was going to convince Papa to hand me over to that snake. I would have run away from home before marrying him.”
Blane chuckled but held silent. Shannon grinned. “When Papa was away, Temple looked after the plantation and family. He was the strong, quiet type, like you. He was a caring person. He was sensitive and gentle. Everybody liked Temple and enjoyed his company. He never wanted or tried to hurt anyone. The other men knew they could trust him. But he could be very sly. He and Papa teased each other pointedly, but they never argued. Temple would listen to Papa’s orders and pretend to obey them. As soon as Papa left home, Temple did what he knew was best for the family and our lands. If Papa ever caught on to Temple’s deceit, he never corrected it. My brother was special, full of life and love. He used to talk to me for hours about anything and everything. If I had a problem, Temple always had time and answers for me.”
Shannon was quiet for a time. “I’m not sure I believe he and Papa are dead. It’s as if they’re away on a trip. I keep thinking and feeling I’ll see them again soon. Papa could be a hard man, but I loved him dearly. I remember him with Mama. I think he loved her more than life itself. Papa could be as gentle as Temple but as rascally as Corry. I couldn’t understand him after her death. He was as happy and content as when Mama had been alive. By accident, I learned why he had spent so much time in Texas, and why he stopped going. It took me a long time to understand how someone could love two people at the same time.” Shannon had decided to slowly start dropping hints about her past. Perhaps soon she would be able to relate everything.
Blane didn’t take her statement as she had hoped. He argued, “No, Shannon, it isn’t possible to love two people at the same time, not in the way you mean. A man can be fascinated and charmed by his mistress, but he would never marry her. Desire and love are not the same. They can be partners, but desire can work alone. Perhaps your father used love to excuse his behavior to himself and his family. If he truly loved your mother, there would have been no room in his heart for another woman. If he loved the other woman, he couldn’t have been happy with your mother. You must accept it for what it was—a weakness, a flaw. Love is all consuming, Shannon; there isn’t enough of yourself left to share with another person.” He paused. “Tell me about your home.”
Shannon didn’t refuse his words. She needed to give him more time to know her before adding Hawke to her father’s list of flaws and weaknesses. Would a bastard half-brother color his opinion of her? She let him change the subject. “Wait until you see Greenleaf, Blane. It’s beautiful. The entrance is half a mile from the house. There’s a five-feet high wall the color of sand and you have to ride under a huge arch. On either side of the arch, there is a hand-painted branch of magnolia leaves and over the top it says Greenleaf. Once you pass under the arch, the road is shaded by two rows of live oaks. Their branches bow and meet overhead to form a green tunnel, and gray moss hangs from them and sways in the breeze.” She closed her eyes and envisioned the sight. “Our yards are filled with magnolias, live oaks, roses, camellias, dogwoods, and countless azaleas. You should see it in the spring. It’s breathtaking. There’s a gazebo in the garden. I used to go there every morning to read or study. The house is huge, with four towering columns across the front. I won’t tell you any more; you’ll have to see it for yourself when we get there.”
Blane couldn’t tell her that he had seen it several times before. She was right; it was elegant and beautiful. He had known after hearing her name that she was rich and polished. If not for the war, she could have had her choice of husbands, just as wealthy and refined. Why Hawke? Why Blane Stevens? Thornton had been mistaken; it wasn’t because she was a spoiled, moltenblooded vixen who craved “rogues.” “What about Corry?” Blane ventured. “You forgot him.”
“Corry…How does one describe Corbett Greenleaf?” she asked herself mirthfully. “He’s a charmer, Blane. He’s funny and bright, but carefree and impulsive—like someone you might know,” she jested, then laughed. “As you might imagine, he and Papa came to verbal blows many times. He couldn’t stay quiet like Temple. No, Corry always shouted out his opinions. Papa used to take Corry with him on certain trips and make him work along the way. He thought it would take some of the wildness out of him. Papa never understood Corry. He had such a zest for life and adventure. He was a lot like you’ve described yourself. Maybe the Cavalry was what he needed. He has a smile that would warm the coldest day. You know, those kinds of smiles that use everything: eyes, lips, face, bearing. He’s irresistible. Every woman who meets him wants him and chases him.”
Shannon looked over at Blane, who was paying close attention to her words. She was warmed and delighted by his interest, and she continued. “Corry is nothing like Papa or Temple. I think he has wanderlust in his blood. I wouldn’t be surprised if he became a sailor. He loves to travel. He loves a challenge. Papa used to say he couldn’t sit still long enough for a fly to land on him. At social gatherings, Corry was always the center of attention. Both men and women liked him. Despite his ego and restive nature, Corry was a vulnerable person, and easygoing. But I doubt he revealed his true self to many people. That’s why he and I got along so well; he could be himself with me, and I could do the same with him. We used to hunt and fish and ride together. The autumn before the war started, Corry changed. He started pulling into himself. I know it had something to do with what happened on his last trip west with Papa.”
“What happened on the trip?” Blane asked.
“I don’t know. Corry and…Papa wouldn’t tell me. When they got home, they were hardly speaking. It wasn’t like Corry to keep secrets from me and Temple. Something was eating at him. If the war hadn’t begun, I think Corry would have left home that spring. If I hadn’t lost my bag, I would show you their pictures.”
“Being a female, didn’t you ever scold Corry about his many conquests? Think of all the hearts he must have broken.”
Shannon stared at him. “Corry never made promises to women. It wasn’t his fault if they chased him and wooed him. Do you hold yourself responsible for the broken hearts you’ve left behind?”
Blane chuckled. “I try not to break any hearts,” he asserted.
“Corry didn’t do so deliberately. Women found him appealing. They practically battled to see who would be on his arm at the next event. He went out with many girls, and he never misled them.”
“How do you know what was said or done in private?” he teased.
“I know Corry, and he never would have been cruel intentionally. But can you blame a man for accepting a woman who throws herself at him?”
Blane laughed devilishly when Shannon turned red at her words. “Don’t laugh, or I’ll smack you,” she warned. “You men have the upper hand. You can do or say whatever you please, but women can’t. It isn’t fair for you to have so much freedom and fun. If a woman wants to do the same, she either has to pay the price or resist such impulses.”
“Neither of your brothers married? How old are they?” he asked.
“Temple…died when he was twenty-three. He was going to be wed in May of’61. When the Greenleafs sided with the Union in April, Mister Jamison canceled the wedding. Temple and Clarissa had planned to elope as soon as the conflicts were settled. What could Mister Jamison have done after the fact? I wrote her about Temple’s…death, but I don’t know for sure if she received my letter. I suppose I should call on her when we reach Savannah.”
“And Corry?” he hinted quizzically.
“Like me, he’s never met anyone who suited him. He was waiting for that one special person who comes along unexpectedly and steals your breath and thoughts. Besides, he was only twenty when the war started. That’s hardly a confirmed bachelor.”
“Let’s see…That would make Corry twenty-three now. A nice age for getting married and settling down with a wife and child. Any woman should enjoy going to live at your Greenleaf. Corry is the heir now.” He paused. “What are you looking for in a man, Shannon?”
“One who has all of the best qualities of my father and brothers, with none of their weaknesses or flaws. I like the strong, silent type who knows when to be gentle and funny. I want him to be brave and clever. I want him to be rich and famous and powerful. I want him to be perfect,” she jested, then winked at him. Thinking she was flattering him too much, she mischievously added, “And I do love dark eyes and hair against tawny skin, and white teeth. To be enchanting and appealing, he must be handsome and virile and utterly charming.”
“What about whiskey-eyed wheat-heads?” he wailed playfully, annoyed by her words. Why must she remind him of Hawke! Damn her, she belonged to him! She couldn’t love and have both of them!
“They’ll do, if I have no other choice,” she replied, laughing. She assumed Blane understood how she felt about him and knew she was teasing. When she noticed he wasn’t smiling, she ventured, “Take Blane Stevens for example; there’s a man who could enchant any woman. Who could resist those hazel eyes, that tawny hair, bronzed skin, and abundant charm? He’s fairly close to being perfect, if he would stop being so bossy and overprotective.”
“I thought women liked men who took command of situations, who protected them from all harm, who knew how to please them. Have I been using the wrong approach and talents on you?”
“I told you, Major Stevens, you’re almost perfect. Tell me more about you and your family,” she encouraged. “What about your other sister, besides Lucille? Where’s the new ranch?”
“Eleanor Stevens met one of those charmers like Corry. He convinced her he was in love with her, seduced her, got her pregnant, then left. She hasn’t heard from him since. When I left for the war, Ellie was still praying for his return. That’s why I took this job for Lincoln, to travel around helping the Union while I search for the bastard who ruined my sister. When I locate him, I plan to kill him.”
“Has she tried to contact him? What if there was a reason why he couldn’t return. If I were you, Blane, I would give him a chance to talk before I shot him. Sometimes there are very good reasons why two people can’t marry. Don’t be impulsive, or you may regret it. Are you so sure Ellie’s wrong about him returning?”
“Yes, Shannon, I am. As of January of ’61, the charming rogue left my sister with a bastard son to make sure she remembers him. He’s never tried to reach her or to accept his responsibilities. Clayton and Jory contacted him twice, but the son-of-a-bitch denied even knowing her. When Jory warned him I was coming after him to haul him back to Texas to marry Ellie, he wrote back and insisted I try to do just that. He claimed he wasn’t to blame and Ellie would have to find someone else to force into marriage. By the time I located his home, he had taken off. I still haven’t found him. When I do, he’ll wish he had married her. I promised myself and my family I would keep him from ruining another girl’s life.”
“That was years ago, Blane. What if he’s changed? What if he loves her and wants to marry her? He could have returned to Texas after you left. Please talk before you kill him.”
“I got word from home while I was in Washington, meeting you of all people. Fate sometimes amazes me. When this war is over and I return home, I plan to find Ellie a good husband, one who deserves her and…her son. That ring you’re wearing, I bought it for her. A mother looks better wearing a wedding ring, doesn’t she?”
She advised him, “Don’t push her, Blane. Love comes along rarely. A woman can’t accept just any man in her life. Let her find the right man to replace him,” she urged. “Maybe you can’t love two people at the same time, but you can find new love, can’t you?”
Blane studied Shannon’s expression. Her words struck him oddly. Maybe…Blane shook his head. Even if Hawke wasn’t between them, Corry was. How could he be so cruel to Ellie as to bring the sister of her traitorous lover into the family? How could Shannon deal with living with Ellie and little Corry? How could she deal with the truth about her brother? “How does a son replace a father, Shannon? There is no acceptable reason on earth for a man to deny his son his rightful name, to tag him a bastard. If you give life to a son, you owe him. What kind of man could reject his son, could be so cruel to him? Such a snake deserves to die.” He stared off at the horizon to break the somberness of his mood. “I’m tired. How about you?”
“Exhausted, partner..” She yawned and reclined. Heaven help her, how could she ever explain Hawke after what Blane had told her?
“I’ll check around before turning in. You go to sleep. Tomorrow’s another long, dusty day.” Blane vanished into the darkness. When he returned, Shannon was asleep, as he had hoped.
He gazed down at her, praying silently, Lord, help me if I’m wrong about Shannon and me and this situation. Blane decided that the woman asleep before him couldn’t be a good enough actress to have hidden her knowledge of Corry’s treacherous actions during the spring of ’60 or her fear at hearing him vow lethal revenge. No, Corry hadn’t confided that secret. But could Shannon’s brother be persuaded to do the right thing by Ellie? From Shannon’s talk, it didn’t sound as if Corry had any reason not to marry his sister. If he could solve Ellie’s problem and restore her honor without killing Corry Greenleaf, he could have Shannon.