“I helped my brother escape. I had him locked up with Quakers in Pennsylvania. I didn’t want him to get killed or carry on the war where others would die, nor did I want him to die in a prisoner of war camp. He was very clever and escaped.”
Treason. She widened her eyes with the revelation. That he trusted her with his secret touched her heart.
“My youngest brother, Zach, didn’t agree with either side and went west. I haven’t seen him or my brother, Ryan, a CSA Cavalry colonel, since before the war. Ryan and I didn’t end well. We had a terrible fist fight…would have killed each other if my father hadn’t intervened.
“Ryan hates me and said he hoped never to meet me in battle, promised I’d end up with a bad fate.” He shook his head. “My brother, Ryan’s, last venomous words to me were that he’d hang me if he ever caught me.”
She lightly touched his arm. “It’s sad how the people you were once so close with can become just another stranger you don’t know.”
Lucas stared off into the blackness of the night. “There’s no lower curse than a family hand that strikes you when you are down. When Ryan makes his mind up, that is the direction he takes. He is the most muleheaded and unforgiving—”
“Yet it’s impossible to take hate away from people. I’ve seen firsthand what hate can do. We are all hurting and will be hurting for a long time.”
Didn’t they all carry their scars? To Lucas, the love of his family far out-distanced wealth and privilege and promotion; and his separation was met by a death due to that departure. “Grief may not be as heavy as guilt, but it takes more away from you.”
“Sometimes, I’m plagued to know what Ryan’s reaction would be if he discovered me here. Would he help me? Turn me in? More likely, he’d kill me.”
Rachel sighed. Who could predict the motivations of men in the theatre of war? “I can’t believe a brother with so close a familial bond would kill his brother.”
“I don’t want to meet Ryan to disprove your theory.”
“I imagine you must have been the soul of respect when you were a young boy,” she said as an offhanded attempt to tease him out of his morbid mood, and she could practically feel him smile behind her.
“Why one time, my brothers and I decided to entertain the family with the play,The Miller and His Men. From behind the curtain, I created the effects, employing an added amount of magnesium, gunpowder and dried puff balls for awe and grandeur. The firepower was that of a cannon, bringing the production to a triumphant conclusion…and the servants fleeing for their lives. The explosion was enough to give my father pause, and the fact that his ears rang for weeks afterward.”
Both of them broke out laughing, experiencing a sense of peace and satisfaction, and thoroughly taking pleasure in each other’s company. Even with the danger they were in, a short reprieve from their troubles seemed well-earned. She had gone through so much in the past few days, the ride exhausting her. Now she had a second wind and wanted to keep Lucas happy.
“You’re absolutely incorrigible.”
“My mother had far worse feelings with the smoke, sulfur smell and fallout of white ash as I nearly set the house ablaze and destroyed the wallpaper in the parlor. My brothers and I had the hair burned off our heads and were bald for a month.”
They both laughed again, an undeniable magnetism building between them. How odd to think they’d have this conversation at a ball, a recital, or in a parlor. The war had made extenuating circumstances, removing them far from the typical nuances of engagement. Lucas locked his arms around her, and she gloried in their shared moment.
“I can only imagine,” Rachel said. “There were penances?”
“I remain a quick study of the woodshed,” Lucas chuckled and added pointedly, “Miss Pierce, if I had been your father, there would have been many trips to the woodshed for you. That brings me to another topic. I must admit…there is another side to me. I have obsessions.”
“Obsessions?” Rachel turned her head, awestruck by his confession. She was so curious, she scarcely noticed his hand lifting to her shoulder.
“I like to kiss girls.”
Rachel glanced up, and her heart lurched. She cleared her throat, pretending to not be affected, but his nearness was overwhelming. Part of her wanted him to kiss her, and the other…she couldn’t remember why not…for the life of her. He buried his hands into her hair at the nape of her neck, and she smelled him—earthy and the fragrant scent of pine needles. His lips touched hers, slow and thoughtful, surprisingly gentle. He drew back, and her lips were still warm and moist from his kiss.
“It’s a peculiar obsession of mine.” Lucas said, but it sounded a million miles away and made no sense to her at all. She peered up at him. His eyes bathed her in admiration. Her pulse leaped. He didn’t give her a chance to question him before his lips pressed against hers, pulling her closer into his embrace, and her world was filled with him.
Rachel heard the click of guns first and tore away from Lucas. Three Confederate soldiers pointed their guns at them. Lucas stood, shoving Rachel behind him.
A lieutenant with wildly uneven teeth and a smile with increasing severity eyed the two of them. “What are you doing meandering in the woods alone with a woman. Soldier? Why aren’t you with your unit?”
Lucas stepped forward until he stood inches from the lieutenant’s face. “What’s the use of a husband when his wife, pregnant with his child, needs help getting to her home?” Lucas snapped, pointing to the captain’s insignia on his uniform. “And besides, what business is it of yours?”
Under Lucas’ cold stare, the lieutenant mumbled something, stepped back and apologized. Lucas stood his ground until they lowered their guns and shuffled east, disappearing farther into the woods. Lucas was still the one in command.
He flexed his arm muscles, and then saddled the horses. “Rest time is over. In the future, we must be more vigilant.”
She could see he was angry with himself for being caught unaware, and if it hadn’t been for his quick thinking, they’d both be dead. Long years as the Saint had taught her to be prudent, but with Lucas, her head was not where it should be.
The horse’s flanks twitched when Lucas boosted her into the saddle. He mounted and turned his horse around. When he continued his silence, her pride became bruised. Was he blaming her?
