Beloved Enemy

A new, unexpected warmth surged through her, not only by the seductive suggestion in his voice, but also by his sheer boldness. Had he come to ruin her now? A dizzy current of heat raced through her blood. Her body tingled. This Yankee was a romantic lunatic—and perhaps, so was she.

Raising the window a little higher, Julia leaned out. “You are the most thick-headed person that I ever met,” she whispered louder. “Don’t you know that you could be killed for a prowler if anyone hears you?” She refused to wonder why she wanted to save this Yankee’s life. Men like this one had killed sweet Frank. Yet Julia knew that she would feel very guilty if the major were shot in her garden because of her.

Rob tilted up his face, the white of his teeth gleaming as he grinned at her. “I have night’s cloak to hide me,” he said, not seeming the least bit worried.

Carolyn murmured in her dreams. Julia shot another swift glance at her. Even though her sister was a heavy sleeper, this insane conversation would certainly waken her if it continued. Julia knew that she should shut the window and be done with the man, but she couldn’t do it. He enticed her; his boldness tempted her to do something equally rash in return. Should she ask him now to have his wicked way with her?

He stepped closer to the foot of the back steps. “Wouldst thou withdraw?” he called softly, almost tenderly.

This night would never happen to her again. There was a war between them. Tossing aside her common sense, Julia acted upon the most daring idea she had ever had in her sheltered life. She leaned out the window again. “Stay under the tree in the shadows. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Julia didn’t look at him as she shut the window, but she had the distinct impression that he grinned before he retreated under the magnolia, thick with its evergreen, glossy leaves. She didn’t consider what she was about to do. Instead, she imagined his lips upon hers. Hastily, she twirled her hair up in a knot, then tossed a dressing gown over her nightdress. She swept up a knitted afghan from the foot of the daybed and threw it around her shoulders.

As she slipped her bare feet into her fur-lined slippers, Carolyn stirred from the depths of the four-poster bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked in a sleep-thickened voice.

“To get the cat,” Julia replied, lighting a candle. “Go back to sleep.”

Yawning, Carolyn snuggled down again. As Julia left their room, she hoped that her sister wouldn’t notice that Tybalt was curled in a furry ball next to her pillow.

A few moments later, Julia stepped onto the back stoop. She lifted her candlestick higher, allowing the light to spill deeper into the silent garden. Its flame flickered in the light breeze. Then she saw him move under the tree. Gathering her courage, she descended the steps carefully in case they were icy. She halted just inside the magnolia’s screening boughs. After all, she didn’t want to get too close to the man, in case his manner turned threatening. He had been a perfect gentleman up until now—but he was a Yankee. Nor did she want to give him the idea that she was a loose woman. Now that she faced him, she was suddenly unsure what to do next.

The major stepped just inside her candle’s glow. “I am glad that you removed your mask, Miss Julia. Beauty should never remain hidden.”

His deep voice caressed her, and a spiral of nervous excitement corkscrewed down her spine. She fumbled for a suitable reply. Given the late hour and her shameful state of undress, there was nothing she could think to say. Instead, she fell back on Shakespeare’s words.

“The mask of night is on my face, else would a maiden blush paint my cheeks.” In fact, her cheeks were on fire.

“Thank you for coming down,” he said, though he did not attempt to move closer to her. “I was running out of quotations.”

Julia wiggled her toes inside her slippers. “I must admit, I have never heard so much Shakespeare spoken in one night.”

He cocked his head. “Haven’t you attended any of his plays? Surely Ford’s Theater or the National must produce a few of his works in between their comedies.” He stepped closer to her light.

Julia sucked in her breath. Without his mask, the man was even more handsome than she had imagined. The classical lines of his face were softened by the hint of humor that shone in his dark eyes and lingered at the corners of his mouth. He looked taller in the darkness and even more broad-shouldered than she remembered from the ball.

At his question, she shook her head, and turned away. Suddenly, she was too shy to look at him. The courage provided by the champagne had disappeared. She moistened her lips. “Before the war, my parents often attended the theater in Washington, but since then, none of us has ventured into…” She caught herself before saying “that Yankee city.” Instead, she finished lamely with “there.”

He nodded as if he understood. “I see. Someday, there will be peace again, Miss Julia. Then I do hope that you will have the opportunity to see Shakespeare enacted on the boards.”

Julia closed her eyes to block out the sight of his blue uniform. She pulled her afghan closer to her body. “I, too, long for that day.”

A silence fell between them. Julia tried to think of a lighter topic of conversation, but the cold of the night crept into her consciousness. She clamped her jaws together to keep her teeth from chattering.

He cleared his throat. “I came to apologize for my behavior at the Winsteads.”

His words caught Julia off guard. “What do you have to regret, Major? You were every inch a gentleman. I am the one who acted in such a scandalous way.”

He grinned, then replied, “When Miss Winstead spoke in such a vile manner to you, I did not come to your defense. I was remiss and I am most sorry for it.”

Julia lifted her chin and met his gaze with a steady eye. “Why should you be? Melinda’s accusations were correct, Major. I am a Confederate.”

He studied her for a long silent moment. Julia forgot the chill of the air. Anxiety tore at her insides. Would this admission of hers be the undoing of the careful shield that her parents had maintained for the past two years while living in Union-occupied Alexandria?

Taking a step backward, she confessed, “I was warned never to trust the Yankees. They say that you are a wicked people. It appears now that I was well advised. Do you intend to clap me in manacles, sir? Am I to be arrested for my loyalty to my birthright?” She stretched out her hands to him and bared her wrists. The candle shook in her grip; its flame danced erratically.

He stepped closer to her. Only then did she notice that his right sleeve hung empty. She recalled that he had kept that same hand in his pocket during the whole time at the ball. Was he injured?

Without saying a word, he took her free hand in his left one. Instead of a rough grip, as she had expected after her taunting, his touch was gentle. His lips curled up in a smile.

“I see no treason here,” he murmured, turning her hand over. His thumb massaged her open palm.

Her throat closed up, and her knees weakened under her nightdress. Her nerves felt as if they were being pulled taut to the breaking point. At the same time, she found his simple caress to be the most intimate thing that she had ever experienced. She wondered if he was going to kiss her now—hard, brutally—just as he had described.

Just then, something small and white fluttered on her nose—a snowflake. A second and a third followed in quick succession. Both Julia and the major looked up to the sky.

“Why, the moon has disappeared,” she observed with surprise.

More snow fell, dotting them with gentle white flakes like confetti.

“And you are chilled to the bone,” he remarked. His eyes were dark and full of power, yet tiny laugh lines crinkled at their corners. He continued to stroke her palm. “I may be a wicked Yankee, Miss Julia, but I am not a murderer. I have no wish for you to freeze to death on my account.”

Julia gulped. “Then I am free to go, sir?”

The glow of his smile warmed her, despite her anxiety and the freezing temperature. “Only if you promise to meet with me again tomorrow at a more suitable time and place.”

His suggestion was a bold challenge, one that Julia found hard to resist. “I might. Where and at what time?” Hearing her own voice, she could hardly believe she had just uttered such reckless words.

“Market Square on the corner of King and Washington Streets at three o’clock? And I promise that I will behave like a gentleman, and not like one of those Yankees whom you fear.”

“I’m not afraid,” she corrected.

He chuckled. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” he murmured, staring at her hand as if he had never seen anything quite so wonderful before.

“I do not think that quotation comes from Romeo and— oh!” she gasped as he brushed his lips across the bare skin of her palm. Her breath caught in her throat. The shock of his kiss ran through her whole body. Blood drummed in her ears; a wave of giddiness broke over her. She would surely expire.

He looked up at her through his long dark lashes. “Will you dare to meet me in broad daylight, Miss Julia?”

She balled her hand into a fist to keep it from shaking. Then she lifted her chin a notch. “Of course I will, Major, if only to prove that you do not frighten me.”

He slowly released her. “Good, I am glad to hear that.” He touched the brim of his hat with his fingers. “Until tomorrow at three. And may I suggest that next time you wear gloves? Your hand is very cold.”

With that observation, he turned toward the back gate. Julia clutched her candle tighter. “Major!” she called after him.

Pausing, he looked back to her. “Miss Julia?” he asked with a quizzical lift of his dark brow.

Julia cleared her throat. “I fear you have the advantage as I don’t know your real name. I highly doubt that you answer to Major Romeo.”