Scarlet Leaves Page 7

  His answer failed to satisfy, but his restraint told her presently that she would get no others. Despair about the future suddenly swept through her like a chilling wind, leaving her desolate. "Lordamercy, when will all the fighting be over? When will this terrible war end? I'm so tired of it!"

  An expression of tired sadness passed over his features. "I truly don't know," he answered, his hand rearranging one of her tresses, then moving to the small of her back. "Who can say? But I think it must be soon."

  His raven hair draped appealingly over his brow; his jaw was strong and set, and his lips sensuously inviting. His hand sent a pleasurable warmth over Silky's flesh. Before she knew it, his other arm was about her, and he held her so gently she could easily pull away, yet his nearness tugged at her heart, rooting her where she stood. Tenderness softened his expression, but the lines about his mouth revealed he was wrestling with his thoughtsfocusing all his strength into solving some problem. Broken only by the sound of the flames and the wind, a poignant silence welled between them; then slowly, impulsively, as if he couldn't help himself, he pulled her toward him, his virile appeal shaking her heart.

  Inky lashes framed his heavy-lidded eyes, which blazed with a passion that wore down her already crumbling resistance. What did it matter that she still secretly worried about the letter he'd burned? Surely one kiss wouldn't drastically change her life. Surely she could risk that, she reasoned, finally casting aside the caution she'd harbored for so long.

  He trailed his lean fingers over her face and she trembled, for he roused some sleeping emotion buried deep within her that struggled for release. "I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you," he whispered, his steely arms tightening about her and making her forget everything but this glorious moment. When he pressed her more firmly against him, she felt the strength of his arms and the thud of his evenly beating heart.

  She guessed that he was a practiced lover, but, putting aside her nagging regrets, she told herself that tonight she would enjoy just one kiss and discover what provoked the raging desire within her. In that moment some unspoken communication passed between them, not of the mind, but of the heart and the soul, and she relaxed in his warm embrace.

  He brushed her long hair aside, then lowered his head, and she murmured contentedly as his moist mouth nuzzled her neck. His tangy scent sloughed over her, and his lips moved to the throbbing pulse in her throat, making her shudder at the fiery sensation they aroused. He cupped her chin in his large hand, and she boldly traced the warmth of his tanned face. Not satisfied, she caressed his corded neck and slipped her fingers into his partially open shirt, where dark springy hair coiled about them.

  He fluttered kisses over her face. His breath was upon her while his teasing lips nibbled her ear, driving her to distraction. With a sigh, she raised herself a bit to loop her arms about his shoulders and run her hands over his back, hungry for the pleasure she'd been so long denied. When her fingers threaded themselves into his thick, glossy hair, he looked down at her with twinkling eyes. "Searching for little horns?" he asked, arching a questioning brow.

  Surprised, she felt a blush warm her cheeks. "Why, no ... I ... " She burst out laughing and he laughed, too; then suddenly his mouth was upon hers and an unexpected sweetness shot through her. He smelled of the outdoors where he'd been working, and she caught the taste of tobacco on his lips. Trembling with the dark, delicious sensation he triggered within her, she found herself drowning in passion. Never before him had she enjoyed the thrill of a man's kiss, and, unaware of the emotions it could invoke, she reveled in its intensity. Her heart turned over in her bosom as she realized this was what she'd been secretly yearning for, but had been afraid she'd never know.

  The kiss fueled a fire that fanned out from her belly and stole through her body, leaving her weak and trembling. His lips were fierce, demanding, insistent, and as his hard tongue plunged into her mouth, she surrendered to the moment. His hand kneaded her hips, holding her closer, and the proof of his aroused passion pressed against her abdomen, eliciting wild, almost frightening needs she'd never experienced.

  Gently but firmly he ran his hand over her breast, and his touch burned her flesh through her gown, sweeping away the last of her defenses. Using his tongue expertly, he deepened the ravenous kiss, and a lulling sensation rose within her. At the same time her breasts strained against the gown, while her heart pounded crazily. When his tongue entwined with hers, a sharp pleasure throbbed between her thighs, leaving her limp and pliant. It was at this moment she decided without a shadow of a doubt that he wasn't a Yankee. No Yankee could kiss like this, with so much fire and spirit it took her very breath away.

  Then she noticed the warmth of his hand through her gown once more, and as he tugged down the material and cupped her breast, smoothing his hard palm over it, she felt a delicious shock. When he rolled her aching nipple in his fingertips, ecstasy exploded within her, leaving her on the verge of swooning. As he teased and tantalized her with sure strokes, all the pent-up desire she'd known since setting eyes upon him rushed forward, demanding satisfaction.

  Soft, tender feelings overcame her, and, like a rose being torn apart by the wind, she almost surrendered to Taggart. But gradually her rational mind gained control of her desire and she realized her curiosity had got her in this predicament. She'd bargained for a kiss, but was getting much moremore than she could handle. Surely he would think she was an easy conquest if she didn't put a stop to the lovemaking right now. With fluttering lashes, she opened her eyes and eased away from Taggart, her skin still glowing from his hands.

  Her fingers quaking, she pulled her gown into place and met his searching gaze, realizing she'd almost lost control of herself. Now standing at arm's length from him, she surveyed his tense face, which seemed all harsh planes and angles. For a moment she glimpsed the fire within him; then she sensed he was also reining in his emotions.

  This time she'd managed to dredge up enough discipline to save her virginity, but if the truth be told, she still hungered desperately for his touch. She'd saved herself this time, she realized, still light-headed from the fiery kiss ... but what about the next time?

  At that moment a log fell in the hearth, scattering embers and making popping sounds; then Taggart spoke, his voice threaded with a hint of regret. "I think we should call it a day," he suggested, tracing his warm fingers over her cheek.

  He took in her thoughtful expression and heaved a deep sigh. He'd tried to kiss her on Apple Hill, and now on his second attempt he'd succeeded. But at what price? he thought, realizing the kiss had only whetted his appetite for more lovemaking. In fact, he'd never known such a savage need, and only moments before, he'd felt his good intentions not to touch her tear away from their moorings.

  It seemed she'd mesmerized him in an almost magical way. Gazing at her soft face, he pondered the future with trepidation. Could he actually be falling in love with her? That was the last thing he wanted to do now, or at any other time, as a matter of fact. No, he wasn't falling in love with her, he sternly lectured himself. He'd just been caught in the trap of being marooned with a gorgeous woman full of life and fire.

  Once he returned to Ohio women would be falling all over him, he advised himself. They always did, didn't they? He just had to settle down and wait out his emotionsput his priorities in order. With a rush of relief he decided his relationship with Silky presented no difficulty at all. Why, three months after he'd left the mountains, he probably wouldn't remember her name. But why was his heart still hammering like it might burst from his chest? He decided he needed to take some precautionary measures against this happening again.

  "I think I'll go outside for a smoke," he announced softly. He gazed at her steadily, noticing a suspicious gleam of tears in her eyes. Then, knowing he had only one more day to spend with her before the wounded soldiers returned, he pulled up his courage. Surely he could keep himself in check for that long, he thought with firm resolve. His emotions knotted like a ball of twine, he tur
ned and left the cabin, noticing that the first snowflakes had begun to fall.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning Silky and Taggart rode into Bear Wallow. Surrounded by scarlet-leafed maples powdered in white from the overnight snow, the village consisted of a blacksmith shop, a tavern, and a general store. Judging from the clustered wagons and horses, Taggart realized all the inhabitants of Sweet Gum Hollow had come to hail the returning soldiers as Confederate heroes.

  But now as he swung from his mount, the curious highlanders meandered up, every eye riveted on him. A somberfaced group, they looked well acquainted with hardship as well as hard work. From their glinting eyes he could only imagine what they were thinking, but he felt uncomfortable being surrounded by such loyal Confederates who all had fathers, sons, and brothers fighting for the South.

  Silky dismounted and claimed a spot on the porch of the general store. The fringe on her buckskins swaying in the chilly breeze, she tugged down her hat and announced, "This stranger is named Taggart. He's a lieutenant in the Confederacy, so make him feel at home."

  As Taggart mingled with the mountaineers, he compared them to the stolid citizens of Cleveland, knowing the stiffcollared businessmen would be amazed that such an array of colorful characters still existed in this country. Everyone was bundled up, for now that the hollow had received its first snow, it could become bitterly cold within a matter of hours. Smelling of tobacco and whiskey, some of the old men still wore coonskin caps and shoe packs made of animal hides, as their forefathers had. Many of the wizened grannies sat on wagon seats, their heads covered with thick shawls, and smoked clay pipes. A tired, undernourished look filled the eyes of the pale children, who, dressed in an odd assortment of oversize clothing, played tag and teased their barking puppies.

  What were they thinking about him? Taggart wondered, studying their curious faces. Although they were outwardly friendly, he sensed their bluff camaraderie was underlaid with sly mountain suspicion. Surely if this group of ardent Secesh had a real inkling of his identity they would string him up on the spot, and afterward celebrate the hanging with a few swigs of white lightning.

  A grandfather with a flowing white beard limped up and, pointing a walking stick at Taggart, assessed him with clouded eyes. "What town be ye from, stranger?"

  "Norfolk."

  "That's on the water, ain't it?" came another voice out of the crowd.

  Several of the men eyed Taggart's mount. "That's a fine piece of horseflesh, mister. Bet you paid a considerable sum for that mare."

  A shiny-eyed girl of courting age who'd been talking to Charlie at the general store's hitching post spied Taggart and edged toward him. "Lordamercy," she exclaimed, cutting her eyes at Silky, who now stood by his side, "that's the handsomest dark-headed man I ever saw in all my born days. Where in the world did you latch on to him?"

  Taggart let his gaze glide over the group and noticed Sergeant Holt and his friends drinking moonshine while they stared at him with hatred in their eyes. More than ever, he understood his presence was putting Silky in danger, and he realized he needed to get his information, then ride out of the mountains forever. Once he was gone, she would be safe.

  He was talking to some old men when a slim youth came galloping into the clearing waving a homemade Confederate flag. "The wagon is a-comin' from Wilson's Gap. The wagon is a-comin'!" he yelled, whipping the banner in the air.

  A rumble could be heard; then a wagon, driven by a hillman, rolled into the clearing, filled with wounded men wearing slings and bloody bandages. The soldiers, big grins creasing their stubbled faces, waved and shouted at the cheering mountaineers, who surged forward, cheering loudly.

  Tears in their eyes, women and children ran to be united with their loved ones before the teamster could pull the horses to a halt. Slowly and painfully, the soldiers came off the wagon, scattering hay that had been placed beneath them to cushion their ride from the tiny whistlestop of Wilson's Gap. With outstretched arms, their families received them, laughing and crying at the same time.

  The team was unhitched and led to a watering trough while the wounded men, their arms about their sweethearts, limped away for a private embrace and a basket lunch, to be eaten on the spring seat of their own wagons. One soldier pulled a banjo from his pack and, his face splitting into a toothy smile, broke into a fiery rendition of "Dixie," to the delight of the clapping crowd. Families were reunited; giggling children chased each other about the clearing; hounds yapped; and jugs of white lightning were passed to every man, who each imbibed liberally. Surely it was a sight to gladden a heart of stone.

  Taggart surveyed the reunion, realizing the more he lingered among the mountaineers the more he liked their unvarnished honesty and keen wit. Still, they were Southerners, and as such, part of the Confederacy that had snuffed out his brother's life at sixteen, he reminded himself.

  Silky surveyed the noisy crowd, her face brightening into a smile as she clutched his arm. "Oh, there's Jimmy Wilkerson," she remarked, spotting a ragged youth with his arm in a sling. "He was one of my brother's best friends." She looked up at Taggart with large, hopeful eyes. ''I think I'll talk to him and see if he has any fresh news about Daniel." So saying, she hurried across the snowy clearing, now filled with visiting family and friends.

  Slowly, Taggart walked among the people, and at last he saw a grizzled sergeant who, between swigs of moonshine, leaned against a wagon regaling two old men with war stories. From his red face, glazed eyes, and loud voice Taggart decided he would be a good source of information. Already planning what he would say, he pasted a smile on his face and strolled in the sergeant's direction.

  Fifteen minutes later, Silky finished her conversation with Jimmy Wilkerson, discovering Daniel had been transferred to another company that would see action soonsomething he'd failed to mention in his letters, undoubtedly to save her worry. Searching for some of Daniel's other friends, she saw Taggart, a preoccupied expression on his handsome face, talking to Amos Evans. Lordamercy, why would he want to talk to Amos? Everyone in the hollow knew the man was a drunkard and a bigger gossip than any granny woman who ever lived.

  Then, with a pang of sadness, she decided Taggart could do what he wanted. The barn roof was shingled, his furlough was almost over, and he would soon be leaving. Before she knew it, her cabin would be filled with lonely memories instead of joy and masculine laughter. How would she get through each day? she wondered, trying to forget the recent evening he'd taken her breath away with his fiery kisses. Then, with a spurt of defiance, she straightened her back. She wouldn't torture herselfwallowing in self-pity. She had to think of someone else for a changesomeone like Daniel and the wounded soldiers who'd done so much for the Confederacy.

  She took a large dipper of cool water from the common barrel at the general store and trailed from one wagon to the next, to any place a wounded soldier was visiting with his family. For half an hour she offered water to the wounded, always asking about Daniel and his new company. After a while the temperature dropped, and she glanced at the smooth gray sky, hoping it wouldn't snow until everyone had returned to the warmth of their own cabin.

  Her mind still dwelling on her brother, she eventually came to Zeb Clingerman, who had signed up with Daniel what now seemed so long ago. His face ashen with pain from a shoulder wound, Zeb sat on the seat of his father's wagon, coughing and pulling a frayed quilt about his shoulders. For a while they talked about the war; then the boy studied Taggart squatted by Amos Evans, who was scratching something in the dirt with a stick. "Who's the tall stranger?" Zeb asked in a weak voice. "Some drummer?"

  Silky answered his question, mentioning that Taggart was returning to the 43rd Virginia, now bivouacked along the Rappahannock.

  At the words a strange look settled on the boy's face. "The Forty-third Virginia?" he whispered with disbelief.

  "Yes, that right," she replied with an uneasy feeling that something was terribly wrong. "What of it?"

  The youth blinked doubtful eyes.
"Because," he insisted in a raspy breath, "that company is no place near the Rappahannock."

  Pain squeezed about Silky's heart. "You must be mistaken," she said hurriedly, refusing to accept his words. "You're mixed up. You"

  "I ain't mixed up," the boy retorted, looking at her a little sharply.

  She stared at him, her throat going dry with emotion. "A-Are you sure about this?" she stammered, beginning to tremble.

  The boy nodded. "Yes, I'm sure ... certain-sure. One of my duties was to tidy up General Johnston's tent. There was this big old map on the table with pins stickin' in it showin' the location of all the regiments and their companies. It got where I knew that map by heart." He nodded at Taggart, suspicion flooding his face. "If that feller there is tellin' folks the Forty-third Virginia is bivouacked along the Rappahannock, he's lyin', sure as God made little green apples. They've never been near there."

  "Well, where are they, then?" she demanded, still hoping against hope he'd made a mistake.

  A coughing fit seized the boy, and his father wrapped the quilt tightly around him. "They're in Loudoun County," the boy wheezed between coughs. "That's miles from the Rappahannock."

  Her heart pounding, Silky gazed at Taggart, watching him nod and smile at Amos, who continued to draw in the dirt, obviously showing off his knowledge about something important. Please Lord, don't let this be happening! she cried out in her mind, completely shattered by the fact that Taggart had been deceiving her. Feeling as if her world had just been turned upside down and smashed to bits, she clasped the side of the wagon seat, tears stinging her eyes.

  Silky looked across the table at Taggart as he ate, a sick feeling coiled in the pit of her stomach. They'd shared a cold ride from Bear Wallow, and a silent one, too. At first the gray sky had spit grainy snow; then larger flakes began whirling down faster and faster, clinging to the tree limbs like feathers until the woods glistened white.