Free Beloved Enemy by Mary Schaller Page A

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.
    â€œI 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.
    â€œWhy, the moon has