Triumph by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page B

her own wanton behavior.
    “Sir, you are apparently an officer—”
    “A Yankee, as you noted.”
    “As an officer of the Federal army, I charge you, sir, to rise, and to cease bringing such discomfort to a lady.”
    “A lady?”
    “Yes! You must release me. Now!”
    “Perhaps I’m not a Yankee officer.”
    “What?”
    “I could be a deserter, with a stolen frockcoat. A man on the run from both Federal and Confederate law, a desperado, glad of any treasure to be found in the way of money, cash, goods, clothing—or human flesh.”
    She froze, staring at him, every inch of her flesh burning, terror seeming to wrap around her like the tentacles of an octopus. Somehow, she kept staring at him without blinking. And she told him, “Kill me then, and quickly, and steal what you will. My horse is all I have of value.”
    “Now, Madam Godiva, what man would want to kill you quickly, without enjoying the good sport to be had first?”
    The deep crawl of his voice had a very serious edge, and yet staring at him, reading the harsh lines and character in his still striking face, she didn’t believe that he was a deserter.
    “Do what you will quickly, slowly, but threaten me no more!” she charged him, yet then she couldn’t help but cry out, “Just exactly what is it you want?”
    “I want to know your plan, Miss ... er ... Godiva. I mean, most obviously, you were trying to lure me away from something. What?”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about! And if you’re an officer—”
    “A might-be deserter,” he reminded her.
    “You are no deserter, you are a Yankee officer, and you must follow some rudimentary code of conduct. Yankees are accredited with atrocious manners, but this ...”
    “Bad manners? If I were to rape and murder you, madam, you would consider it nothing more than bad manners !”
    “You are no cold-blooded murderer!” she cried. And perhaps, at last, something in her voice reached him. She heard the grating of his jaw, but something changed just slightly in his eyes, in the way he watched her. “If you would be a gentleman ...”
    “Oh, dear, Miss Godiva, I’m so very sorry,” he said. He eased his hold on her wrists, then released them. Sitting back on his haunches without casting any great weight upon her, he crossed his arms over his chest. “If you think to shame me, you’ve come across the wrong man—at the wrong time. And in the wrong state of dress, I’m afraid. I do remember learning manners concerning the fairer sex, but in those classes, the ladies tended to have clothing on the bodies to whom one was to be so polite and correct.”
    “Would you please stop speaking to me in such a sarcastic manner? This is wretched and cruel, and obviously a terrible discomfort to me.”
    “Young woman!” he snapped, suddenly furious and leaning over her. “Have you lost your mind? Every day that the war lingers longer, there are more deserters roaming the woods and forests, more desperate men about, more men who wouldn’t give a damn for the value of your life much less your virtue! Now who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing out here?”
    She gritted her teeth, aware that he was right in many ways. She was frightened, as she had seldom been frightened in all her life.
    “Yes!” she admitted. “Yes! I was trying to distract you! But you needn’t fear—I kept you from no great troop movements, no desperately desired spy ... just a few wounded men, seeking solace and healing!”
    He stared at her for a very long time, then at last, he rose, and for a moment, her distress was greater, for without his frame to conceal her, she was all the more unclad. Yet as she awkwardly tried to rise and sweep her hair around her nakedness, he slipped his frockcoat from his shoulders, reached impatiently down to help her rise, and encompassed her in his coat. Her teeth were suddenly chattering.
    “It’s a Yankee garment!” she murmured, painfully aware that it was a laundered