My Guardian Knight by Lynette Marie Page B

that torment you.”  A dark, fierce look came over his handsome face, his eyes burning into hers.  “I’ll not tell you, Amanda, of the horrible, unforgivable things I have done,” he said hoarsely.  “When our paths part in St. Louis, I’d rather you still think of me with fondness.”
    “I know you, Sebastian.  You are a kind, understanding man and I’m sure that nothing you tell me would make me believe otherwise.  
                  “Was it the war?” she asked softly.
    Sebastian swallowed over the lump in his throat, his hands beginning to shake as he realized he couldn’t stop himself from speaking.  He started in a low voice, tight with tension and pain.  He stared straight ahead, unable to meet her gaze.
    “When I was five years old I left Mississippi and went to live with my Grandma.  My parents had never had much interest in me and so it was the logical choice, I guess.  My father was a very strict military man who cared about nothing but his career and keeping the appearance of a wealthy military officer.  My mother was only concerned with what his money could buy her.  So they shipped me off to Grandma’s house, which was probably the only good thing they ever did for me.  They visited me once when I was eleven, but other than that they stayed away.
    “Grandma was wonderful.  She was my father’s mother and appalled at the way I had been treated.  I think she tried to make up for them by trying extra hard to make me feel special.  Under her influence, I learned how to be kind and thoughtful, for she was always lending a helping hand to anyone who needed one.”  A small smile touched his lips.  “As I grew up I became involved with one of the girls from town.  Misty spent so much time at our place Grandma practically adopted her.  We planned to be married, but then the war started and I felt it was my duty to join.  Having lived in Illinois most of my life I felt no kinship to my southern roots and so I fought for what I believed in.  I fought for the Union. 
    Misty swore she’d wait for me.
    “I spent long, hard years in the Army.  Everything you can imagine from wet, freezing temperatures to sweltering heat.  Sometimes we ate, sometimes we went without.  I was obsessed, in those days, with beating the pants off the south.  I don’t know what happened to me in those years, but I didn’t simply want to win.  I wanted to beat them into the ground and I did everything I could to see that that happened.  I always knew, in the back of my mind, that my father was out there somewhere.  That someday we may come together at opposite ends of a battlefield.  That never happened.
    “Right after I was promoted to Captain I was wounded at Gettysburg and sent home to recuperate.  It took a few months to regain my strength, and I was ready to return to battle.  This was something I was good at, pulverizing the other troops.  So you can imagine my anger when I was informed I would be stationed in Alton, Illinois, my hometown.  I appealed to every superior officer I could find, but I was not allowed to return to battle.
    “So I reported to the Confederate prison in Alton and immediately hated it.  The walls were gray with dirt and grime, no splash of color anywhere but the American Flag, which of course was hated by the prisoners.  
    “The prison smelled worse than anything I could describe to you.  Even the breezes coming off the Mississippi River couldn’t alleviate the stench.  Disease ran rampant and smallpox was feared by each and every one of us.  During one such epidemic many of the infected prisoners were taken to a small island on the Mississippi in an attempt to control the spreading.
    “The worst part for me came one evening when a group of rebels were brought in.  I inspected them as I always did and looked up to see my father standing before me.  He was extremely thin and his uniform was torn to shreds.  Still, that damned triumphant look