And One Wore Gray

And One Wore Gray by Heather Graham Page B

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Authors: Heather Graham
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not going to pass out again,” he warned her, his tone grating.
    “Well, I am going to scream!” she threatened in turn, and she opened her mouth to do so.
    He was so damned quick. His hand landed over her mouth again.
    It was then that she heard a knocking on the door.
    Her eyes widened as she stared up at the southerner. She was definitely victorious.
    “Miss! It’s Captain Johnston. We’re out here to pick up our men!”
    Callie squirmed furiously. She tried to sink her teeth into the Reb’s fingers.
    To her amazement, he suddenly pulled a knife from a sheath at his ankle and brought the razor-sharp edge to her throat. “Don’t scream,” he hissed at her.
    He wouldn’t do it. She was damned convinced that he wouldn’t do it.
    She didn’t scream.
    He was suddenly up, and pulling her to her feet. She still didn’t scream. He still had his knife out.
    He swung her around and prodded her to the door. She felt the point of the knife right at the small of her back. “Tell him fine. Tell him that you know that he’s there, and thank him.”
    Callie stood very still.
    “Tell him!”
    “Go ahead! Stab me!” she hissed back at him.
    His fingers suddenly threaded through her hair. “Don’t tempt me!” he said.
    He opened the door, standing behind her in the shadows, but keeping the blade of the knife against her all the while.
    Captain Johnston stood on her porch. She opened her mouth. She meant to tell him there was a Reb in her house. She didn’t give a damn about the knife. She wasn’t afraid of the Reb, she assured herself.
    She was never really sure why she didn’t turn him in right then and there. Maybe it was Captain Johnston. She was so certain that to him the only good Reb was a dead one.
    What did she care? Her husband lay dead and now long buried in the yard. Her father lay dead in a massgrave with hundreds of other Yankee soldiers. And he had fallen to a man like this one….
    “Yes, Captain Johnston,” she said gravely. She didn’t allow her eyes to flicker downward. She didn’t want to see the Confederate or the Union dead.
    “We should be out of here soon enough, ma’am. Can my men do anything for you?”
    The knife jabbed closer against her flesh. “No, Captain, I just … I just want to be left alone.”
    The captain nodded. “You see any soldiers around here, you call for me. Someone will be around. I don’t want to lose any strays. There just might be a wounded man or two separated from his company. I’ll be close. Just down in the valley by the little offshoot of the Antietam stream.”
    “Yes, thank you so much,” Callie said.
    Johnston turned away. Callie almost called after him.
    The door closed with a slam. Arms came around her, and she found herself sliding down to the floor with the Reb on her side.
    “That wasn’t bad,” he told her.
    “That was damned good, Colonel,” she said icily. “If you stick that knife at me again, I will scream until the sun comes up.”
    “Lady, you do tempt fate!” he warned her roughly.
    “What choice have I, cast into the company of so fine and chivalrous a cavalier!”
    He gritted his teeth and exhaled. “I have to rejoin Stuart!” he told her.
    “Well, you may just have to bleed to death first, Colonel,” she said sweetly.
    “Will I?”
    Feet suddenly came tramping up the porch. He drew her near again, his hand clamped tightly over her mouth. She could barely breathe. She struggled. It made no difference. He was built like Atlas. He mightbe dying here in her living room, but his arm muscles were still in very fine shape.
    It seemed forever that he held her. A strange eternity, for she’d never been closer to any man, never held so intimately, so tautly, for this length of time, even by Gregory. She had never sought more desperately to escape, and she had never been so securely held. After a time, she closed her eyes. The darkness continued to arrive. She could still hear the tramping of feet. Then it seemed that they slowly

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