True North Page 8

  Slowly, reverently, he lowered his head and gently caressed the soft flesh of her throat with his lips. A hint of rosewater lingered on her skin, the scent deliciously enticing. He shifted his weight to the side, the old bed creaking beneath their combined weight. His fingers nimbly released the tiny buttons at the front of her gown, opening the restrictive fabric to reveal the lovely pale chemise underneath. Eager for more, he slipped a hand inside, grazing her perfectly round breast.

  She shivered at the touch and it seemed to spark her to action. She slid both hands beneath his shirt, teasing it up and over his head. Her smooth palms explored every inch of his heated flesh, driving him to madness.

  “Your turn,” he said huskily, rising up just enough to help her shed the heavy gown shielding her from him.

  Soon she lay before him in nothing more than her sheer chemise. The flickering candlelight danced over her milky skin, illuminating every flawless curve and swell. A rosy flush crept along her neck and into her cheeks. He smiled to himself, realizing that his fearless vixen, the woman never afraid to take exactly what she wanted, was every bit as nervous and vulnerable as he. His gaze locked tenderly with hers, and the love blossoming inside him deepened in that moment. He dipped his head and took her mouth in an exchange that rapidly turned to fire. He’d intended to go slowly, to memorize every inch of her and this night to memory, but the passions between them blazed through his restraint.

  Grace consumed him.

  He explored every inch of her body with abandon, and she matched him in every stroke and touch. Hastily they stripped away the clothes remaining between them, and fell into a natural rhythm, a dance as old as time. Lying skin to skin, Grace’s heart thudded against his chest, a perfect match to his own wild pulse. The sensation was powerful, a confirmation that he was destined for this woman.

  She filled him.

  Made him whole.

  Surrounded him, both physically and spiritually.

  The delicious friction of her palms against his bare skin… her smell… her taste… Her very essence banished all coherent thought and drove him to the brink of oblivion. Her fevered moans and gasps of pleasure told him that she too approached the edge, and together, as one, they crested into that oblivion of pleasure.

  Breathing ragged, Everett collapsed in a haze of contentment. He rolled to the side and cradled Grace in his arms. She curled against him, stretching an arm across his chest, and letting her leg rest over his.

  A sweet sigh escaped her lips.

  Everett placed a kiss against her hair. He knew she was exhausted. “Sleep, love. I’ve got you.”

  She simply nodded against his chest and after a few minutes the slow steady rush of her breathing told him she’d drifted off.

  Sleep proved more elusive for Everett. He relished the weight of her in his arms, and the memory of her eager love making, but… The circumstances which had driven them to the secluded cabin hovered over him like a black cloud.

  Gently he stroked Grace’s arm as she slept. He never wanted to let her go.

  Unfortunately, he sensed that her sensual surrender that night was due to belief that she had no hope for the future.

  And at the moment, he had no idea how to safely secure one for her.

  Seven

  Awareness crept over Grace as a haze of jumbled dreams drifted away. She woke slowly, snuggled blissfully in the crook of Everett’s shoulder with the weight of his thickly muscled arm wrapped around her. Her hand lay against his chest, and she relished the gentle rise and fall of his chest. She refused to stir or even open her eyes. She didn’t wish to banish the sweet seclusion they’d stolen however brief.

  Unfortunately, with consciousness came the crushing reality that she was accused of treason and on the run. Worse, she’d dragged Everett into the debacle. Despair settled over her, and she carefully rose to sit on the edge of the bed. She reached over and grabbed a loose quilt, wrapping it around her shoulders.

  Behind her Everett stirred. “Morning, love,” he said sleepily, sliding a hand over her thigh and giving her a gentle squeeze.

  Grace turned and forced a smile, she knew it was wan and half-hearted.

  He frowned and slowly moved to sit beside her. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  Grace cast him a questioning glance, and actually laughed ironically. ”Why are you sorry? I’m the one that dragged you into this mess. I should be sorry.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, uncertainty lingering in his stormy eyes.

  She reached for his hand. “What is it, Everett?”

  “Y-you don’t regret last night?”

  “Why would I have any regrets about… us?”

  “You look so sad this morning. I thought you might be thinking of… you know?”

  She shook her head, utterly confused. “No. I don’t know.”

  Everett shifted uncomfortably. “Thinking of your husband.”

  “Oh, I see.” Grace squeezed Everett’s hand in reassurance. “My only regret regarding last night is that we may never be able to do it again.”

  He slipped his free arm around her waist and pulled her close for an impulsive kiss. “No need to worry over that, lass. I have every intention of doing that every day for the rest of our lives.”

  Grace’s pulse kicked to a run as he slid the other arm around her and lowered her back onto the bed.

  He kissed her again. “If you’ll have me, I’ll marry you the first chance I get.”

  A shiver of excitement coursed through her. “Is that a proposal?”

  “It is.”

  Her heart twisted and threatened to burst with a combination of love and pure agony. “Everett, nothing would make me happier, but…”

  “No, buts, love. The answer you’re looking for is yes.”

  “Everett, I…I—”

  “Yes or no, love. Those are the only suitable answers for my question.”

  She shivered again, this time for a different reason. “I’m afraid we’ll never have the chance to wed.”

  Everett pulled back and stared down at her in earnest. “You mustn’t think that way, Grace.”

  She drew a shaky breath. “I think we should go back. Turn ourselves in.”

  Everett didn’t say anything as he rolled off of her and laid on his back, staring at the ceiling.

  “I don’t see any other options,” she rushed on.

  “We’ll just leave,” Everett said. “Go west now.”

  “What of your duty, Everett? You’re a soldier.”

  “I’m a physician,” he stated. “I joined the army to help injured men, but I’m more of a butcher than a healer. Let me take you from here. Save you.”

  “We can’t run. We have no money.” She shook her head. “No clothes or sustainable provisions.”

  He remained silent.

  “Everett?”

  “I’m thinking,” he snapped.

  “If we don’t go back, it will be seen as an admission of guilt,” she continued. “You’ll be hunted.”

  Everett scoffed. “You will be hunted.” He raised up on an elbow, leaning over her. “And those bloody bastards will get away with setting you up.”

  “Which is why we must go back.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed. “Aye, love.” He rolled onto his side and splayed a broad palm over her abdomen. “I fear you’re right.” After a moment he continued in a soft voice, “Are you prepared for what will happen once you turn yourself over?”

  Grace shivered, but remained firm in her decision. “Yes. I’ll be locked up. It’s likely we both will be taken into custody.”

  “Yes.” He fixed her with a grave stare. “Are you certain.”

  She stared into his eyes, so sincere, swirling with worry and love. “I could spend every morning of my life just like this,” she whispered, resting her hand over his.

  “You can,” he urged, his brogue thickening. “I’m yours, lass.”

  In a blink she could see their entire future… a little house an
d medical clinic at the foot of the mountains out west… beautiful dark haired children… A dream come true. A dream that would never be if she was found guilty of treason.

  Her resolve faltered. “No, I’m not certain, Everett. Not at all.”

  “Grace—”

  “But, Everett our best chance for a future, a real future without looking over our shoulders, is to go back.”

  He nodded solemnly. “Very well, Love. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  ~*~

  Heart heavy with dread, Grace held firmly to Everett’s hand as they walked side by side down the dusty road, and into the looming shadow of the hospital. At any moment they’d be spotted. Visions of the sentries rushing out of the building with rifles aimed at their heads swirled in her mind. She’d occasionally thought of the hotel turned hospital as a prison, but today the thick brick and mortar walls would truly become her dungeon.

  I’m doing the right thing, she silently affirmed. I won’t let Sarah ruin me for a crime I didn’t commit.

  “Here comes the cavalry,” Everett muttered.

  Grace’s pulse stuttered as four armed soldiers rushed from the hospital. She clutched Everett’s hand, forcing herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

  “Stand down, lads. Nurse Sinclair is here of her own accord.”

  The soldiers glanced at each other but didn’t lower their weapons. “Show your hands,” Sergeant Maynard, a man Grace knew quite well, ordered sternly.

  Grace swallowed and released Everett’s hand. Wordlessly she raised her palms up over her head. “I’m not hear to cause trouble,” she called. “I didn’t hurt anyone, and I didn’t release any prisoners. Last night I got scared, and I shouldn’t have run.”

  The men kept their weapons trained on her.

  Grace’s heart sank. It seemed she’d already been judged and believed guilty by those she’d spent months working side by side with. Perhaps she should have listened to Everett, and simply continued running. Would it have been possible to disappear out west?

  Suddenly Colonel Dayhuff stormed out of the building. “It’s about damn time you two showed up. Get the hell in here.”

  Grace hesitated and glanced at Everett. He met her gaze and shrugged, clearly as confused as she that Colonel Dayhuff hadn’t ordered them placed in irons. Tentatively, she lowered her hands, drew a steadying breath, and marched past the armed guards. Unfortunately, the armed guards fell into step right behind her and Everett. Running away wouldn’t be an option today.

  Grace followed Colonel Dayhuff through the corridor and into the long hallway to one of the first floor wards.

  “Corporal West is awake,” Dayhuff announced. “We’ll get to the bottom of this once and for all.”

  Dayhuff ushered all of them—to include the armed guards—into a small, private room. Corporal West reclined in an armed chair with his feet propped on an ottoman, and a white bandage wrapped around his head. Dayhuff turned to one of the soldiers. “Peterson, go find Nurse Watson and Dr. Schaffer. Bring them here.”

  “Right away, sir.” Private Peterson turned quickly on a heel and marched from the room.

  Nervous, Grace clasped her hands in front of her, and faced Colonel Dayhuff, waiting for him to speak. To question her. To say anything! Instead, he remained maddeningly silent, his expression completely unreadable.

  No one in the room uttered a sound. For once even Everett managed to keep his mouth shut. The quiet unnerved Grace, and she forced herself to portray a level of calm she didn’t feel. Fortunately, it was a skill she’d mastered in her years working as an army nurse.

  The heavy thud of footfalls and the tap of heeled shoes signaled the approach of Schaffer, Sarah, and Private Peterson.

  Sarah was the first to pass through the door. She stopped so abruptly that Dr. Schaffer ran into her, knocking her forward a step. “She’s been captured!” Sarah blurted. “Thank heavens.”

  “Not captured,” Everett growled.

  Grace opened her mouth to respond, but Colonel Dayhuff spoke first. “Nurse Sinclair returned of her own accord,” he said in a tone as staid and unreadable as his expression.

  Schaffer and Sarah shared a quick look.

  Dayhuff stepped into to the middle of the room. “I’m quite glad she did. I would hate to see an innocent woman on the run.”

  Grace went weak with shock and relief at his statement. Innocent! He’d claimed her innocent.

  “Innocent!” Sarah shrieked. “She helped her brother-in-law escape. There was a note left behind.”

  “How convenient,” Grace snapped.

  “Yes,” Colonel Dayhuff said. “Quite convenient and quite incriminating. However,” he continued, tapping a thoughtful finger against his chin, “I read the supply lists and reports that Nurse Sinclair puts together every day. I’ve been reading them for some months now, and she writes with a very steady hand, it’s quite consistent and very familiar to me.” Dayhuff pulled two folded sheets of paper from his breast pocket. “I have here one of Nurse Sinclair’s reports and the letter found in the Confederate ward yesterday. You’ll note that the handwriting on each is distinctly different.”

  Sarah’s eyes widened and smoldered with anger.

  “This may have escaped my notice if Dr. Connors hadn’t planted the idea that Nurse Sinclair had been set up. Once Corporal West roused, I was able to confirm the suspicions.”

  “What suspicions are those?” Schaffer demanded.

  “Corporal West, why don’t you tell everyone what you recall from last night.”

  West glanced around the room. “I was standing guard outside the Confederate Ward, same as I do most evenings, and I was reading a letter I had just got from home. I heard someone walking down the hall, but I didn’t think much of it. Figured it was one of the docs or another soldier passing by.” He paused. “A man came right up beside me, I could see his black boots, but before I could look up, he hit me right over the head. Next thing I knew I woke up in here with a splitting headache.”

  “What is that supposed to prove?” Dr. Schaffer spat.

  Everett stepped forward. “Corporal West heard a man coming down the hall. Not Grace.”

  “One of the prisoners could have hit him.”

  “No.” West lifted a hand. “A man came down the hall from my left. The prisoners were behind me in their ward.”

  Schaffer’s gaze narrowed on Everett. “It must have been Connors. He’s a damned Irishman, he has no loyalty to this country, and everyone knows he’s sweet on Sinclair.”

  Everett stepped forward, fists clenched, but Grace grabbed his arm, holding him back. “I was operating when West was attacked.”

  “It’s true,” Dayhuff stated. “I was assisting him.”

  Schaffer and Sarah shared a quick panicked look.

  “Do you know what I think happened,” Everett growled. “I think you and Sarah penned that letter, struck Corporal West, and let the prisoners go.”

  “Wh-why would we do that?” Sarah stammered.

  “Because I threatened your position when we discussed your lesser care of the Confederate prisoners,” Grace said, finding her voice.

  Sarah paled, dread written all over her face. “Dr. Schaffer asked me to write the letter,” she blurted shrilly.

  “Shut up,” Schaffer snapped.

  Sarah quickly distanced herself from him. “I didn’t know he was going to hurt Corporal West. He promised I’d be the next head nurse if Mrs. Sinclair was let go.”

  The confession shocked everyone in the room to silence. Even the fly buzzing about the room landed on the wall.

  Schaffer tensed and looked around like a caged animal. “They’re both Reb lovers,” he growled, gesturing obtusely toward Grace and Everett. “There’s no place for their kind here.”

  “No place for us?” Grace tossed back at him. “You attacked a fellow soldier and then released the Confederate soldiers you claim to loathe.”

  Schaffer’s brow folded over his infuriated gaze
, but he said nothing.

  “Sergeant Maynard, take Schaffer and Walters into custody. Get them out of my sight,” Dayhuff ordered. Rage and disgust emanated from his militaristic figure.

  “No!” Sarah cried as a guard grasped her arms.

  Schaffer ducked when the soldiers closed in on him and dodged to the side. He suddenly brandished a pistol from within his inner breast pocket. Wild eyed, he pointed the weapon at Everett’s chest, his finger curling around the trigger.

  The whole world, the passage of time, all but froze for Grace. She couldn’t lose another man she loved. “No!” she screamed, hurling herself forward. “Everett, look out!” The pistol cracked and she threw herself into him at the same moment. Together they toppled over and Grace fell into his sturdy chest. The window behind them shattered with a deafening crash.

  Grace cringed but forced herself to look up as Schaffer bolted through the door in the chaos.

  Eight

  “That son of a bitch shot at me!” Everett scrambled from beneath Grace and leapt to his feet.

  He could have shot Grace!

  Pure red tinged Everett’s vision as he dashed through the door after Schaffer.

  “After him, men!” Sergeant Maynard ordered from behind him.

  Everett didn’t care if the sentries followed or not. He’d subdue Schaffer with his bare hands for what he’d put Grace through.

  Schaffer sprinted down the hall, the revolver still clutched in his hand.

  Despite lack of sleep, Everett gained on the other man.

  Schaffer skirted another corner and plunged through a door to the outside.

  Everett was close behind and dove as he passed through the door. He curled his arms around the brigand’s middle and forced him to the ground. He grabbed the arm with the weapon and pinned it to the dirt.