The Pride of Hannah Wade by Janet Dailey Read Free Book Online

that, despite her married state, she was sheltered from all things that did not bring out man’s finer instincts. “What was her name?” Hannah asked unexpectedly.
    “Whose?” His head came up slightly.
    “The one whose skin you recall with such fondness. Were you very much in love with her?”
    “That was long ago, Mrs. Wade.” He listened to the night’s sounds, hearing in his memory that softly drawling voice.
    “What happened? Or would you prefer not to talk about it?” she asked.
    “Not at all.” Cutter shrugged to deny the suggestion.“She was an unreconstructed Rebel who despised the blue uniform I wore. Eventually she got over that, but she couldn’t forgive me for commanding a company of coloreds. She wanted me to resign my commission, and I refused.”
    “How unfortunate,” she murmured.
    “I have no regrets,” he stated. “It wasn’t her love I rejected. I simply didn’t want her hates.”
    Laughter rang out loudly from inside the house, and its intrusion reminded Hannah of her duty. She caught back a sigh before it escaped. Her shawl slipped lower on her shoulders as she made a small movement in the direction of the door.
    “I must see to my guests.”
    The gold braid on his dress uniform glinted as he bowed slightly, his hair heavy and black against the night’s darkness. “The evening has been a pleasure, Mrs. Wade,” His hard, tanned face was engrained with a roughness, presently tempered by an expression of respect.
    “There is no reason to leave so early.” Hannah was surprised into the protest.
    “There is no reason to stay any later,” he countered.
    “But the party—“ She looked over her shoulder to the window’s view of her guests.
    “I’m not their sort. We both know it, Mrs. Wade,” he said without apology. “I enjoy a rougher kind of pleasure. This cigar needs a shot of whiskey and a good poker hand to make it taste good.”
    “Drinking and gambling. You disappoint me, Captain.”
    “They are honest sins.”
    “Indeed.” A smile broke across her lips, creating a small dimple in her left cheek. It danced there an instant before she gave him her hand. “Good evening, Captain Cutter,”
    “Mrs. Wade.” Briefly, he pressed his mouth to the smooth knuckles of her hand, inhaling the warm fragrance of her skin.
    A moment later she was gliding through the door and Cutter was alone with the night. He paused to take a last drag on the cigar, then flipped the butt into the darkness. Down the steps he ran with a light tread and swung along Officers’ Row to the bachelor quarters. A shot of whiskey was sounding better and better.
    “Hayes. Hayes!” he called impatiently for his striker, tugging at the collar of his dress uniform the minute he entered his rooms.
    A gangly Negro lad still in his teens tumbled into the room, all eagerness to serve his officer. “Yes, sir, Captain.”
    A city boy from Philadelphia, Hayes had never been west until two months ago. He couldn’t ride, couldn’t shoot, but he was pursuing the romance, glamour, and adventure of a soldier’s life for all it was worth.
    “Whiskey—and my blues.” Cutter shed the jacket of the dress uniform and tossed it on a chair for the boy to pick up.
    “Going out again, sir?” Hayes tried to do all the chores at once, carrying the regular uniform while juggling a whiskey bottle and a glass, and picking up the discarded suit. “Where?”
    “To see if there isn’t a game in progress in Grim-shaw’s back room—or to start one if there isn’t.” He rescued the bottle and glass from the young private’s clutches before they shattered on the floor.
    “Ya mean poker? Gosh, sir, you don’t suppose I could come along and watch?”
    There was the smallest break in the lift of the whiskey glass, the faintest hesitation of movement. Then Cutter threw the liquor down his throat, a hardness ridging his jaw and cheekbone.
    “Not with me, Hayes.” The denial was flat and unequivocal.
    There was a line