Free Bride of the Night by Heather Graham Page B

him. His features were hard and tense; his eyes seemed to be burning as he stared at her. They were such unusual eyes.
    â€œTara Fox,” she repeated.
    To her surprise, his eyes said he knew her name.
    â€œLook, I don’t know what information you’ve been given, but you’re mistaken in me. I would never hurt Lincoln. Never. I would do anything to stop any evil being done to the man. Even a fool knows that we’ll need his strong leadership when it’s time to make peace and reconstruct the South. Stop looking at me like that. I am not a monster.”
    â€œThat’s debatable,” he murmured, getting to his feet.
    As he did so, a loud shout rose in the air.
    â€œDunne! Agent Dunne! Are you here?”
    Tara touched Richard’s face gently and rose, as well. On the beach, she counted ten men. Several were still securing their boats.
    The others had their guns at the ready.
    â€œHere!” Finn Dunne called out. “I have the survivors from the Rebel ship. They’re unarmed. Hold your fire!”
    Tara looked at him, feeling a sudden surge of anxiety. The Union men could have come upon them after the sea battle with guns blazing. This man had prevented that. She could only pray that the Pinkerton meant his words, that they wouldn’t be harmed.
    In her heart, she honestly believed that most men were honorable. Union men would not murder a man in cold blood. And yet, despite the decency and courtesy displayed by commanders on both sides, horrible murders had occurred. While she understood that John Brown had wanted to make all men free with his campaign against slavery, he had in fact committed murder—and in the Kansas and Nebraska territories, men had committed murder in retaliation.
    Wasn’t war just sanctified murder?
    She just stood there, tense, terrified and praying. The philosophy of man wasn’t something she could solve, and certainly not at this moment.
    Please, God, don’t let them hurt Richard.
    A young soldier came through the trees. She thought that she recognized him—that bit of scruffy beardon his chin—but he was so covered in soot that she couldn’t be sure. He looked at Tara with surprise, his brows shooting up. Then he looked at the man on the ground and spoke to the Pinkerton agent.
    â€œSir!” the young man said, addressing Finn Dunne. “The men are busy setting up on the beach, sir. Captain Tremblay set off a flare, and he says we can expect a Union ship by tomorrow. There are always ships ready to move with all speed from the fort.” His eyes kept darting with surprise toward Tara. He gasped suddenly. “Tara!”
    â€œBilly Seabold?” she asked.
    Billy nodded.
    â€œYou two know each other?” Finn asked sharply.
    Billy nodded. “Well, a bit, anyway.” He scrambled to take off his military jacket, and offered it to Tara.
    â€œI’m fine, thank you, really.”
    â€œPlease, Miss Fox, allow me the courtesy,” Billy said.
    She thought to refuse would be rude, and so she accepted the jacket. Dunne was looking from one of them to the other, as if mentally shaking his head over the naivety of youth—in his mind, apparently, Billy was offering comfort to a venomous snake.
    Finn cleared his throat.
    â€œOh…oh! If you’ll follow me to the beachfront, please?” Billy said.
    Tara hunkered back down by Richard. Finn lowered himself as well, moving her aside with the breadth of his shoulders. “I will take him,” Finn said.
    â€œHe’s—he’s my friend. My brother, really,” she added softly. “I will tend to him.”
    Finn’s voice lowered. “You want everyone wondering how you have the strength of ten men?” he queried.
    She fell silent, lowering her eyes. He could, if he chose, kill her—he knew how. Why didn’t he? Was he actually decent in his way, loathe to murder without the facts established?
    Finn took care as he