Her guards yanked her up and hauled her to the top of the hill to stand before the enemy. Derision covered their faces and murder glittered from their eyes as they looked her over like a hung deer fresh from the kill. Rachel bore the brunt of all as if a sharp knife stabbed her, cutting all her worthy intentions to ribbons.
“Damn her. She could be as beautiful as Venus, but I’d hang her from the tallest tree,” snapped one of the men surrounding her.
She blinked. Captain Johnson! Nerves rattled up her spine. He was her worst fear. Her worst nightmare.
“Miss Pierce.” He nodded. “I’m glad to see you. You’re pretty precise at turning a card, but I think we’ve got you on the last shuffle. We watched you at the ball…knew our staged conversation in the library would interest someone with your…talents.”
Rachel swallowed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”
Johnson stood an inch from her face. “Don’t insult my intelligence by playing the silly female. We know you’re the Saint. Figured it out at Elm Street. That was your misfortune. But to tell you the truth, I was suspicious of you back in Richmond. All defenses and troop movements dispatched to the Union. Every time, it was after you had been present with some trumped up appearance. When I saw Colonel Rourke at your home, it cemented my suspicions.”
“Clever you are to make such a deduction, if your allegations were true, but which they are not.”
Johnson’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s not insult either of our intelligences. I congratulate myself for I’m clever enough to have you where I want you.”
“I’ll betcha she runs like a bitch in heat.” A man spat an amber stream of tobacco juice on the ground next to Rachel’s feet. He admired his shot and regarded her with scorn.
“Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord, and I will repay.” Johnson laughed low, laid a confiding hand on her shoulder.
She flinched. Then he leaned so close, she smelled the onions on his breath. “I’ll finish what I began in Richmond. You do remember our dalliance in your barn before Colonel Rourke interrupted us?”
She thrust his hand from her shoulder. Two men rode up and she cranked her head to await the new arrivals. Mr. Walsh from Elm Street, and the other, remained hidden until they cleared a path for him.
Lieutenant Bowman.
Her instincts had been correct. Lucas had it all figured wrong, his most trusted colleague entangled in a den of serpents.
Bowman dismounted, stood next to Johnson. Despite subtle differences their features were the same. Why they could be brothers.
“So you noticed. We’re half-brothers, different mothers but rooted from the same pappy,” Bowman said. “Our pappy had a predilection for passing on his seed to many women.”
“How convenient for the Confederacy…two snakes from different litters,” Rachel challenged with a slight smile of defiance and decided to play the fear card. “Tell me, how do you know the Union army is not surrounding this place?”
“Believe me, Miss Pierce. I would know,” said Bowman. “Old General Dodge is home sound asleep. You forget I work in the Office of Civilian Spying.”
“How could I forget? You were the one who set Lucas up. You were the one giving information to Rebel spies. You are despicable.”
“I agree. But we have short time here, Miss Pierce.” Bowman’s voice cut like a knife through the gathering darkness. “This meeting is for your benefit. To have trapped the Saint is a monumental victory for us. To celebrate our victory, both my half-brother and I will sample your charms before we hang you.”
“Of course,” she said, her knees shaking.
Lucas’ words haunted her, warning her of the perilous game she played. These men were the cream of the Confederacy, the seasoned, hard-bitten bunch who moved furtively like rabid rats that destroyed everything and anyone in their path. Johnson tied her wrists and marched her down to the house, his sword clanging against his thigh with every step.
Rachel heard the shots in the distance and jerked her head around.
“We got ’em, Captain,” they yelled from the forest.
“Your young friend, I presume?” Johnson taunted.
“Jimmy!” Rachel choked back a sob. Had they had killed her sweet, adorable protector? Oh, good God, Jimmy didn’t deserve to die. She fought the tears that threatened, silenced the scream of agony that tore from her heart.Her fault.She was to blame.
The sun plummeted behind the ridge and, with it, her spirits sank. She kicked at Johnson, catching the toe of her foot beneath his heel. Johnson cursed as he stumbled and spun around, his full six-foot frame toppled to the ground and slammed onto packed earth.
One of the men snickered. “Looks to me, Captain, you’re going to have your hands full tonight.”
Rising, he spat out, “You bitch. I’ll teach you to show respect. The kind of respect you’ll never forget.” He rammed her forward, knocking her to her knees, the heels of her bound hands plowed the earth.
With a tether tied to her, he yanked her up with such force, the ropes whip-sawed her skin. He dragged her after him, and hauled her into the house, and passing a gap-toothed guard, disrupted him from his game of solitaire. Johnson prodded her up the stairs, then thrust her into an enormous room, which by all appearances, seemed to be the entire second floor of the home. Johnson locked the door and turned to her.
