Free Bride of the Night by Heather Graham Page A

might know them. She had sisters and brothers and…?.
    And a father.
    Finn was staring at her. She tried to stare back at him, her head cast at an angle, a slight smile curving her lips.
    â€œYes,” Finn told her. “I said exactly that—I know what you are.”
    She waved a hand in the air. “A Southerner?”
    He laughed. “Well, that would be true, too, I imagine. No, I know what you really are. Half-breed. Blood-sucker. Vampire. Some might call you a succubus, demon or lamia. What they call you doesn’t matter.”
    She shook her head, incredibly wary of the man who seemed to have her at his mercy. He’d been ahead of her all night long—even though she had managed a smooth escape from him at Gettysburg. She could have escaped him tonight, too, but for Richard.
    â€œNo tricks,” he told her.
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about,” she assured him.
    He indicated the path where they had ripped through the foliage in their chase. “I’m going to suggest that we head back—before the angry men who just lost their ship come upon your friend.”
    She hesitated. “I’m telling you, neither of us is a spy. And neither of us is an assassin.”
    â€œYou’re both blockade runners.”
    â€œRichard is a merchant, nothing more.”
    He sighed. “Of course. But merchants running arms at times of war are by definition blockade runners. I am a tremendous believer in due process of law. If you come with me now, I can guarantee that nothing will happen to either of you on my watch. So, if you value your friend’s life…” He let his voice trail and indicated she begin walking.
    Tara did so. She turned and began moving quicklythrough the brush, doing her best to make sure that every branch she passed slapped back into his face.
    He didn’t say a word, he simply caught the branches.
    She let her words trail over her shoulder at him, along with her anger. “Due process of law. That means you get us into a puppet military court, and see that we’re hanged.”
    â€œIf you’re innocent, you have nothing to fear.”
    â€œYou’re looking for someone called Gator. I’m not Gator. Richard isn’t Gator. There’s no reason that you should suspect either of us as your man.”
    â€œWe’ll see, won’t we?” was all he replied.
    â€œYou should be worried, you know,” she said smoothly.
    â€œOh?”
    â€œLamia! You see me now, but I’ll turn to smoke, and you’ll find me behind your back, slipping around your side, seeking your jugular vein.”
    â€œThat’s always possible.”
    â€œYou should tremble. You shouldn’t push my temper,” she warned.
    â€œI’m a mass of trembling flesh. Please keep moving.”
    As she walked, she became aware of the shouts and instructions of the other Union men in the distance—one booming voice, and then others that rang back and forth as they scurried to obey the commander.
    Tara quickened her pace. Finn Dunne hurried behind her.
    When she at last neared the little copse where she had left Richard, she ran the last few steps.
    She raced by the last tree. From there she could see that men had pulled longboats up on the beach, and that they were being sent out to gather firewood.
    There seemed to be a lot of them.
    Tara slid down to her knees at Richard’s side. His eyes were still closed; he had barely moved. But a quick check assured her that he was still breathing. His pulse even ticked a little stronger than before.
    Finn Dunne was down beside her. He could move with an astonishing ease, especially for a man so tall. She tried to ignore him, but could not.
    â€œRichard Anderson,” he said.
    â€œYes, his name is Richard Anderson.”
    â€œAnd your name is…?”
    â€œTara. Tara Fox.”
    â€œWhat?” His tone was so sharp that it stunned her.
    She looked at