Romancing the Rogue (202 page)

I had no idea how long I had slept, laying across the soldier’s thighs. I was sinking into looseness of morals rapidly since discovering the soldier and I was quit
e ashamed of my behavior. What would my mother have thought¯seeing her eldest daughter behaving this way with a man?

I risked a glance at his face through my eyelashes. He was turned, pointing to a beautiful pair of cardinals nesting in a large sycamore. He was explaining to my sister how the birds cared for their young. He had a beautiful voice and I closed my eyes again, listening to the rich timbre of it.

An insane part of my being wanted to stay held to his chest forever, but the rational side of me demanded I return to my own horse. Before I could voice this request the soldier reined the horse to a stop.

He shook my shoulder, asserting that I was alert. He gave me a helping hand off the tall horse, saying nothing. I was glad for his silence because I knew not what to say.
What do you say after sleeping on a man?

I unsaddled Fran as the soldier and Amelia tended to their own mounts, talking as they did. Amelia had formed a fast friendship with the man and I didn’t know how I felt about that. We would never see the soldier again, and I didn’t want Amelia to get hurt.

The soldier told me to set up camp, and said he was going hunting. I could see the exhaustion hugging his shoulders and once again felt guilty for forcing our presence on him. I cleared a patch of ground for a fire, mindful to scrape the leaves and grass back to expose some fresh earth. To Amelia, I gave the task of gathering firewood, while I searched the ground for a piece of flint rock to start the blaze. I wanted to have everything set up before the soldier returned
¯
proving to him and myself that I was not as incompetent as I felt. I was struggling with the sparks when the soldier returned.

“Grayson! What did you find?” Amelia jumped up from the log she was sitting on and skipped to the edge of our little camp where the soldier was standing, holding two small carcasses, spoils from his hunt.

Grayson?
I wondered if this was his first name or his last, for he had never introduced himself to me. The name fit him; it evoked an image in my mind of a strong warrior, tall and handsome. He handed me his catch and I managed just barely to refrain from heaving. I hated seeing an animal like this, though I knew it was a necessary evil. Any fresh game my uncle or cousins had caught, they skinned on their own. I glanced up and found the soldier looking at me. I blushed and glanced away, well aware that I was an utter mess. I had no comb or tooth powder and my dress was horribly wrinkled
¯
though I knew it shouldn’t matter. The soldier was just as wrinkled and disheveled, and most likely in need of a good bath.

Amelia took the soldier’s kills from me and with the knife he handed her, immediately set about the distasteful chore. She did it rather skillfully as well. Where she had acquired such skill baffled me for she had never been on a hunt before.

“Amy, where did you learn to do that?” I asked, averting my gaze from the bloody sight.

“Mr. H.” Amelia told me as she handed me the freshly filleted squirrel meat. I began to cook the meat over the fire while mixing the water and flour for some plain biscuits.

“Mr. H? Who is that?” I had never heard of a Mr. H, and certainly didn’t condone my sister spending time with someone I did not know.

“Mr. Lofton, you
know—
” Amelia was intent on turning the meat with a sharp stick the soldier had whittled and missed my surprised look. “Gideon’s dad. Me and Rachel would go there all the time. He’d show me whenever Matthew would bring in a catch.”

Matthew was Gideon’s elder brother, a man three years my senior. He and four of his brothers had joined the fighting less than a week after Rachel, Amelia, and I had arrived in Indiana. Matthew, so they say in town, had fought fiercely and bravely, but was wounded in the leg at Bull Run. Rumor had it that the man had then spent six months in a Confederate prison camp down in Georgia, and had escaped only to take another bullet in the same leg. He’d made it to a Union camp and had been discharged after his leg healed up enough to sit a horse. He was a bitter man now, angry at the loss of his mobility, and changed from his prison experience. The few times I had seen him limping around town, I was careful to avoid him. I did not know what to say to him, or if it would even matter. I started to ask Amelia why she and Rachel had went to the Lofton farm but found that it didn’t matter now. If my sisters had enjoyed themselves then who was I to say anything?

The meat was the best I had tasted, though that could have been attributed to the fact that we hadn’t eaten in almost a full day. After the meal, and the cleaning of the one pan we had, the soldier stoked the fire and motioned to Amelia, telling her she would be sleeping closest to the embers’ warmth. He handed us each one of the blankets I had given him. My sister, drooping from exhaustion, merely nodded, displaying none of her usual exuberance, and rolled herself in the thick blanket I’d packed in the linen case for Grayson, pillowing her head on the faded red saddle blanket that had covered her horse mere hours before.

I became nervous, wondering where the so
ldier intended that I should sleep. I watched him as he pulled the black blanket my uncle used to cover the General and spread it on the ground. Though it was nearing late spring, the Indiana weather could prove to be capricious¯changing suddenly from summ
er-like heat to a cold that could chill the bones. I pulled my own woolen blanket around my shoulders, placing myself on the hardened earth a yard from my sister. I lay awake for some time listening to the sounds of the forest and the softer sounds of Grayson and Amelia as they slept before I drifted off, hazily aware of my sister as she rolled closer to my side, seeking my warmth as the last of the fire’s glow faded.

When I awoke the next morning I found myself bundled between Amelia and Grayson. He had rolled in my direction seeking warmth. Somehow his larger horse blanket had been thrown over me and I was curled into his chest, with Amelia spooned against my back. The blankets smelled like horses and I uncovered my head, removing it from its nesting place under his chin. When I rose, groaning at the ache in my back, neither Grayson nor Amelia stirred.

Thankful, I took the opportunity to make my way to the large creek, less than two hundred feet from our camp, which Grayson had discovered during his hunting excursion last evening. Before, I had used the water for the making of our biscuits and to clean the pan when we were finished. Now I had a much more personal reason for seeking out the clear, cave-fed water. After quickly taking care of my necessary business, I removed my outer garments. I gave a nervous glance over my shoulder, just knowing the soldier would catch me shamelessly undressing. When I neither saw nor heard any sign that Grayson was awake, I waded into the creek, shivering from the frigidity of the clear water.

I could not stay in long or I courted frostbite. I stepped back out and stopped along the bank, keeping my clothing within easy reach.

Before bathing I washed my gown
—
leaving only my shift for modesty
—
beating it against rocks to remove any built up dust and dirt. I scraped it with a sharp stone of medium size, wishing longingly for a bar of soap. Ringing it as dry as I could, I lay it over a nearby lilac bush to finish drying in the early morning sun. I waded several feet north, searching for a deeper cove in the stream before submerging myself, anxious to finally, at last, rinse the grime from my hair. Though I knew it wouldn’t be as effective as the longed-for soap, I used several handfuls of river sand to scrub my skin, then rinsed clean. Though the water was shockingly cool when I first entered, to be clean once again was glorious and I laughed. I stopped when I heard a soft sound.

Grayson stood on the bank, minus his own shirt. The bandage I had so painstakingly placed over his bayonet wound so many hours ago was now filthy and blood-soaked again. His eyes gleamed with appreciation as he strolled closer to me, splashing through the shallow water near the banks as if the icy water soaking his trousers mattered little. I wondered just how long he had been there watching me.

“What are you doing?” I stared at him, praying my uncoiled hair provided some coverage for my body.

“Bathing,” He came closer, was now less than ten feet from me, and the water was up well past his knees. His unclothed chest
¯
even with the bandage
¯
looked far different in the daylight than it had that night in Farmer Mills’ barn. Most of the settlers in our part of the state were of German descent and most were blond and fair
¯
Grayson was not. And though his ribs showed, attesting to the poor rations facing a Confederate soldier, his chest was lined with strong muscles. I had not known a grown man had hair on his torso until him, and now I could see that it trailed down past his navel as well. Thankfully, he hadn’t removed his trousers, though the damp fabric hid little.

“Could you not wait, until, until I was finished?” I tried to cover my own chest with my hands, drawing his gaze to that region. My damp underclothes provided little to no covering, and I was well aware of it. I could tell, could just sense, that the soldier was well aware of it too. “I thought Southern soldiers were supposed to be gentlemen!”

The soldier was moving ever closer. I held up a hand. He ignored it, stopping within half a foot of my body. After regaining my sense of composure, and my breath, I looked into his face. I opened my mouth to explain to him that I was no loose woman, when we heard footsteps coming from the campsite. Amelia was calling my name, and when I didn’t answer, she began to call for Grayson. I didn’t want my sister to find me nearly naked and almost in the soldier’s arms so I quickly waded up onto the shore. I was thankful Amelia had distracted the soldier from whatever his intent had been. I dressed as quickly as I could, calling to Amelia to stay where she was and
not
to come to the creek.

Too embarrassed to speak as we broke camp, I began saddling the three horses. I had instructed Amelia to bathe, remaining in the shallower waters, and I kept a careful ear out in the event she ran into trouble
¯
I could here her splashing as I saddled her horse. We’d all be uncomfortable in our damp clothing, but at least we would be clean. Blessed cleanliness. I had used a piece of cloth to clean my teeth, and though it wasn’t as good as tooth powder, it was better than nothing.

Grayson removed the leftover biscuits from his saddle bag and handed me my share. I thanked him, never once meeting his gaze.

“Olivia.” He wrapped a large hand around my forearm as I ate my meager breakfast. I looked up at him questioningly. “We need to talk.”

I had no idea what to say so I just nodded. Amelia came bounding up the path leading from the creek. I could see indecision reflected on his face, and realized that he didn’t want the child to hear our discussion. He frowned and told me we would speak later and I was grateful for the reprieve.

Amelia mounted Sally, ready for the day’s adventure. For a moment I envied her, so young and carefree, without all the necessary worries that plagued those of adult years. I finished tightening the cinch around my dear Fran
¯
who had been so gentle with me
¯
and was looking for something to step up on to make it easier to mount. The soldier must have noticed for he came up behind me and lifted me into the saddle. He surprised me so much I dropped the reins. His hands lingered and I could feel the scorching heat through my damp clothing. He tightened his grip and I gasped and stared at him. He smiled then pulled back, saluting me as he did so.

Oh! He was so smug!
Were all men like that, or just this one? I pulled Fran around, jerking too hard on the reins. I quietly apologized, bending near the piebald ear. She flicked her ears and whickered at me, voicing her agreement that males were such a bane.

I refused to speak to him
¯
pride and embarrassment kept me at a distance. We rode for several hours, the sound of Amelia’s chattering with the soldier eating at my rapidly dwindling temper. He was ignoring me
¯
after lifting me onto my horse when we’d first mounted, he hadn’t acknowledged me even once.

I pondered his behavior, and mine
¯
oblivious to the beauty of our surroundings. My riding companions were engaged in a lively debate concerning the antlers of the beautiful white-tailed deer we had disturbed as they grazed. Listening to my sister as she countered Grayson’s arguments, I was taken aback. I hadn’t realized she possessed such a scientific bent. She spoke with clear intelligence on the varied wildlife we encountered, and pride filled me.

We stopped for lunch after the noon hour. Amelia and Grayson had a wonderful time fishing for sunfish in a narrow stream. I listened to his deep laughter and fumed.
How dare he ignore me?

I prepared yet more biscuits as well as some wild greens I had found. I had a small cooking fire started and the biscuits finished when the soldier handed me six perfectly cut fish fillets. He still hadn’t spoken to me since earlier in the day, and I was certain it was deliberate
¯
he must have known his silence grated at my nerves.

I held my tongue until we finished our meal. The soldier had fashioned us some rather crude plates from thin flat rocks. I had scrubbed and scored them vigorously in the creek then seared them in the fire to clean them before we used them. They were better than nothing.

After the meal, Amelia was put in charge of washing the pan while Grayson and I saddled the horses. I waited until I could see that Amelia’s attention was focused on her chore as she sat near the small stream. Grayson’s back was turned to me as he hefted the weighty saddle onto his horse’s back. I grabbed his sleeve, fingers tightening on the worn fabric. The shirt was faded and soft from so many washings. I whispered his name, then realized it was the first time I had ever said it aloud.

He turned, surprised, and leaned his head closer to me. Nearly a foot separated our heights. I felt small, overwhelmed and vulnerable and I didn’t like it.

“What did you want to talk about?” I leaned close to him, tilting my head up, determined he was not to know of the power he held.

“We’ll talk later, after she’s asleep.” His breath tickled the hair by my ear and I shivered. It took a moment for his words to register. When they did, I objected, for my curiosity was getting the better of me. Resolve was firm on his face and I realized he would not give in. I glared at him, straightening my spine. He hooked an arm around my back, drawing me even nearer. My lips nearly touched his and I knew he had done it with deliberation. I would not give him the satisfaction of reacting, although he most certainly felt my heart beating against my ribs. My breath caught in my throat and I trembled.

“At least tell me where we’re going.” I murmured the words, knowing he could feel them against his lips. The stubble above his mouth tickled my own lips, and I parted them slightly. I wanted to feel the peculiar sensation again so I arched my feet, getting ever closer. He didn’t back away; instead, he laced his fingers behind my back and pulled me flush against his chest. I had never been held so firmly against a man and could not organize my thoughts to object. His body felt different from mine, hard and strong, and I was so curious.

My nose bumped his and I pulled back, filling with molten embarrassment. He refused to let me go
¯
tightening his arms and pulling me even closer. I tried to speak, stuttering a weak objection, but the sound was muffled against his mouth.

It wasn’t as if I had never been kissed before; Mark had kissed me once behind the barn before he had started paying court to Beatrice. That was nothing like this; that had been awkward and embarrassing. Though it had hurt me when he switched his affections to my cousin, a part of me was relieved he would not want to be doing
that
again.

This was warm, soft. His lips rubbed against mine, and mine tingled in response. I closed my eyes, wanting to escape the intensity of his as they stared into mine from so close a vantage point.

His lips widened and I felt the edge of his teeth against my bottom lip. He nipped at me, shocking me, and I gasped into his mouth
¯
widening my own even more.

He tightened his hands, fisting them in my dress; he pulled my lower body tight against his and a peculiar sensation heated my belly. He leaned into me, and I tilted back, just a bit. This allowed him even greater access and his tongue rubbed against my upper lip.

Mark hadn’t done that and I couldn’t imagine how I would have reacted if he had. I didn’t think to protest now, though. I had never felt anything like it before and I wanted it to continue. Forever. Or at least until I figured out what it meant.

His tongue flicked against my teeth and retreated, almost coaxing me, teasing me much like he did by the stream when he had found me close to naked. I widened my mouth just a little more and his tongue stroked mine. I trembled even more fiercely and was certain he could feel it.

“Olivia.” I could feel his lips as they formed my name and my stomach clenched. He pulled back some and I tried to follow, not wanting this
¯
my first real kiss
¯
to end. He obliged me, tilting his head to the left and rubbing his tongue against the entirety of my lips. He pulled back then, shocking me at the sudden movement, and I stared up at him in stupefaction.

The flames of mortification licked my cheeks and I looked away, unable to meet his direct gaze. He was not the least flustered by what had just transpired; in fact, he let out a soft chuckle, jerking my gaze back to his face.

Why was he laughing? Had I done something wrong?

I turned, determined to get away from him, and he laughed a
gain¯a cocky little chuckle that infuriated me. Just what game was he playing at? I stepped away from him, nearly tripping in my haste.

Amelia was rising, finished with her chore, and I prayed she hadn’t seen me so brazenly held in his arms. That wouldn’t do
¯
how would I explain my actions?

I could feel him following closely behind me, could almost feel his warm breath tickling my neck. Without speaking, he directed Amelia to her horse and she re-saddled the mare. I made my way to Fran, feeling the brush of his gaze as I moved.

I finished saddling the horse, feeling Grayson’s eyes on me the whole while. Shivers shook me so badly I couldn't grasp the saddle horn long enough to mount. Once again, Grayson wrapped those large hands around my waist. He lifted me with little effort despite his injuries, and I felt the breath stall in my throat at the strength he possessed.

“We
will
talk later,” he whispered and I shivered.

“Um.” I replied, and felt like an utter fool. What was it about this man that flustered me so? I felt like I existed in a constant state of shame, a state he exacerbated most deliberately.

“Yes. Um.” He mocked and I tightened my lips, still tasting him upon them. I straightened my spine and glared at him. Did he think one little kiss gave him the right to touch me whenever he pleased? He was possessed of a bold and brazen manner
¯
practiced even, and I wondered whether he had any commitments
¯
a wife or sweetheart
¯
wherever it was he came from. If he did
¯
would he have kissed me the way he had?

He stepped away from my horse, his lips quirked slightly. I blushed when I recalled what those lips had done, how they had made me feel. He mounted his own horse, his lithe body steady and assured. Though he had to be hurting, his movements did not betray any pain or stiffness.

We rode for several hours until we came to a small town near the creek. I didn’t know why we had stopped and I glanced at Grayson with puzzlement on my face. He smiled, shaking his head in my sister’s direction.

I asked him why we had stopped and he told me that it looked like rain; he hoped to find us a hotel room. Amelia slid off her horse’s back and I could sense that she was eager to explore this new place.

“Amelia.” Grayson said, a serious tone coloring his voice. My sister turned toward him, awaiting his instructions. “Be careful, and reveal little about yourself. Don’t forget your uncle could be after us. Meet us back here in two hours.”

My sister nodded and scampered off, leaving the reins to her horse with the soldier.

“Why a hotel tonight and not last night?” I asked before I slid off my mount.

“I don’t like the looks of those clouds. I don’t want us out in the woods during a storm.” He tied Fran and Sally’s reins together, and began leading all the horses toward a large stable. “We’ll find a room at an inn, if there is one to be found in this town.”

“With what money?” If he had had money why would he have traded his uniform buttons?

“I have some coin, not much, but enough for a room for a night,” he stated, as we entered the busy stable. I watched as he spoke with the stable master and paid the man his asking rate. After the man led our horses away, Grayson and I headed in the direction of the inn the man had recommended.

“Why did you not use the money before, when buying the rifle?” It made little sense to me.

“The man was open to bartering and I wanted to hold on to the coin.” He took my hand and for a moment I resisted. He looked at me with a warning look and I realized he was trying to portray the appearance of a married couple, as if we belonged together. I was uneasy with the risk we were taking, being in a town.

Of course, I had experienced Indiana’s spring thunderstorms and I did not want to be caught out in the woods with only trees as cover. That could be deadly. My uncle had lost a farmhand just last April when he and his horse were struck by lightning.

We knocked on the door of the inn, a large newer home with beautiful butter yellow sides and green shutters. It looked so comfortable and inviting, I suddenly longed for a tub of hot water and a nice soft bed. The thought brought with it a mix of uncertainty and eagerness. I wanted desperately to rest within the walls of an actual house after traveling for so many hours, but the intimacy associated with sharing a room with Grayson
¯
even with my sister around as a chaperone¯tightened my stomach.

Being on the trail and sleeping beside a dying fire was one thing, under the open sky there was little expectation of privacy¯a hotel room was bound to be different.

Grayson showed no hesitation as he informed the landlady of our needs. She looked at him,
a suspicious glint in her hard eyes, and then at me. I knew what she was thinking as her eyes took in the bruising on both Grayson’s face and mine. Her gaze lingered on my hand, and for a moment I wondered why. Then it occurred to me¯I wore no wedding rin
g. I tried to hide my hand behind my back, sudden shame filling me. Grayson must have sensed what I was thinking for he laced those strong fingers of his through mine.

Grayson spoke firmly to the woman, drawing her derisive stare away from me, telling her that my sister would also be with us in the room and that we would be needing bathing water as well as meals. I was shaking as the woman
humphed,
and motioned for us to follow her down a long hallway. It had a thick carpet of red and ochre running the length of the beautiful planked floors; it was so luxurious under my feet that I felt horrible violating its cleanliness. Grayson paid our surroundings no mind as he trailed behind the woman, still clutching my hand in his.