Surrender by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

Charleston. A third letter was from his brother, Brent, who had recently been called to Richmond to deal with a distressing medical problem.
    As she glanced at the letters, she reminded herself that she had been seeking military plans—and that reading the private mail of others was in extremely bad taste. Yet she discovered herself reading Brent’s letter because she couldn’t quite manage not to do so.
    “… God knows, disease kills more men than bullets can ever manage. I know that my Union counterparts suffer as we do, trying to keep our boys well enough from dysentery and fevers to stay out on the fields. To make matters far worse, you cannot begin to imagine the newest campaign I am set upon. The surgeon general has now determined that our boys are suffering from the most embarrassing of maladies—those caught from their contact with members of the fair gender. Yes, indeed, can you imagine, Jerome? The side who wins might well be the side who first reasons a way to cure the sexual diseases being transmitted at a cruel rate. Again, I remind you, we must have supplies. I can say with confidence that we have the majority of the best military minds. The war on land is fought by brilliant generals and the great heart of a strong people, but as we are both well aware, the Union leaders are not stupid, and they know that they can slowly force us to our knees by starving us out and letting our torn and mangled men left to live or die with no medicine or anesthesia. I remain based at Richmond if you are able to write. God go with you, brother.”
    She set the letter down, startled to realize that she was shaking. A sudden sense of unease filled her, and she looked up with a startled gasp.
    Jerome had returned.
    He had done so silently, or else she had been so involved in the letter that she hadn’t heard the door open. He leaned against the paneling, as if he had been there for some time, watching her. He had been working, she thought, sailing the ship, because he had stripped down to just breeches. A pulse ticked at his bronze throat.Somehow, in the lamplight, bare-chested, his narrowed eyes very blue against his bronze coloring, his straight dark hair falling free to brush his shoulders, he appeared very much the native son.
    She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks as she pushed back from the desk, rising with alarm. She backed away as he grimly approached, yet there was not too far she could go despite the grandeur of the cabin. Angry heat seemed to roll from him in waves. He stared at her, eyes flicking over her with such contempt that she cried out, certain he meant her physical harm.
    But he didn’t touch her; he slammed the drawer shut and turned, propping a hip on the desk, crossing his arms over his chest.
    “Anything interesting?”
    “Obviously, not. You’d know what you keep in your desk.”
    “You had best be glad that I don’t keep military correspondences with my personal papers, Miss Magee. You don’t wish to remain a prisoner, and I don’t like having you aboard. Surely, you must realize you’ve been spared greater punishment only as a concession to my family. Your defiance, your
rudeness
, can easily wipe out that goodwill.”
    “You—you can’t expect your prisoners to be polite, McKenzie,” she told him smartly.
    His hand lashed out; he caught her wrist, drawing her close to him. She felt a wild tangle of fear grip her heart.
    “Then, you cannot expect your captors to be merciful, Miss Magee,” he warned.
    He released her. She retreated against the paneled wall, staring at him warily. He watched her still, and she was deeply distressed to discover words tumbling unbidden from her lips. “I’ll not seek further information from your desk. I—I swear it.”
    He rose. “You could swear from here to Kingdom Come, Miss Magee, and I could not trust you. You will not read any more of my papers, because I will have them removed. I came to warn you that we may shortly engage in gunfire.