Free Veils of Silk by Mary Jo Putney Page A

silhouetted against the light, giving an impression of dark, whipcord power. He was very unlike the civil service administrators Laura knew. Even the other army officers she had met could not match his air of taut, finely honed menace. She should have been wary, yet instead she was drawn to him, and not only because he had been kind to her. Something about the man made her feel safe, even though he was not a safe man.
    Hearing her movement, his head came up sharply. Laura held still until he identified her. "Don't you ever sleep,Major?" she asked as she approached the fire and sat in a camp chair.
    "Nowhere near enough. But since I'm insomniac anyhow, I might as well make use of it." He fixed a rag in the split end of the cleaning rod. "This gun should have been cleaned after being fired the night before last, but with so much going on, it got overlooked." As he lifted the barrel of the disassembled weapon, he added, "And call me Ian— I'm not a major anymore."
    "I thought that military titles followed a man around for the rest of his life." Laura saw that the shotgun was Kenneth's. She was glad the major had thought of it; her stepfather had always been meticulous in caring for equipment.
    "The army is behind me," Ian said tersely. "I've no desire to be defined by it for the rest of my life."
    Laura must have still been a bit sleepy, or she never would have asked, "Why did you resign?"
    He raised his head and gave her a hard glance that made her sorry she had asked, but before she could withdraw the question, he said tersely, "I'd had enough of the army."
    Wanting to smooth over the awkward moment, she said, "Thank you for… taking care of so many things. The funeral, the guns, everything. I don't know what I would have done without you."
    He began rubbing the pieces of the firing mechanism with an oiled rag. In the ruddy firelight, his face was a dramatic collection of shadows and sharp planes, both fascinating and disquieting. "One way or another, you would have managed."
    "I suppose. But you made everything much easier." She gazed into the fire. "Strange how quickly things can change. A day and a half ago I had a life and a family. Now they're both gone. I'll find something to fill in the empty spaces, but I have no idea what. The idea is a bit frightening."
    Ian frowned as he held the gun barrel to the fire, peering through it to check for cleanliness. "You've no family at all?"
    "Pyotr Andreyovich was the last. I suppose there are some distant cousins in Russia, but none that I remember. My first father was an only child, so there are no near relations on that side. My mother had two older brothers, but one, Sergei, died fighting Napoleon before I was born, and Uncle Pyotr never married. So now there is just me."
    "What about Stephenson's family? They may not be blood relations, but you've been one of them for years."
    Laura's mouth hardened. "They didn't really approve of his marriage to a wild Russian. My mother was too dramatic and unconventional for them—like a peacock among pigeons. She and I were tolerated for my stepfather's sake, but never welcomed."
    Ian began to reassemble the shotgun. "It's hard to imagine having no relatives. I don't see mine very often, but knowing that they exist is a kind of anchor in the world."
    "Be grateful they're an anchor, not a millstone."
    "I've some of both sorts." He gave a faint smile that softened his features. "Do you have plans for the future, Miss Stephenson? Or haven't you had time to think about that?"
    "If I'm to call you Ian, you must call me Laura." She smiled wryly. "I've only known you for a day, but it seems much longer."
    "You don't like the name Lara? Pyotr always called you that, and the name suits you. It's unusual."
    "I'd really prefer Laura. I'm used to it, and besides, there's nothing unusual about me," she said uneasily. "I'm a thoroughly unremarkable female. As for plans… I really don't know. My father left me a bit of income, enough for me to survive,