Free And One Wore Gray by Heather Graham Page A

sleep. I’ll be damned if I’m going to be here when you wake up—”
    “And I’ll be damned if you’re not!” he replied. With a sudden swift jerk he brought down the golden tassel and pull for the drapes. Before she knew it, thedecorative rope was flung around her waist, and he was pulling her against him.
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Colonel?” Callie demanded, struggling fiercely.
    It was all to no avail. She was swept up into his arms, and he was striding across the room to the stairway. “Going to bed. For that good night’s sleep. And like it or not, Mrs. Michaelson, you’ll be sleeping right beside me.” Those blue eyes met hers once again. “Right beside me. You do owe me, Mrs. Michaelson. That’s the way I see it, my angel.”
    “No, damn you, you Rebel bastard!” Callie swore. She tried to strike him. He held her closer.
    He carried her up the stairs, heedless of her flailing arms.
    “Yankee,” he murmured softly to her, “it’s going to be one hell of a night.”
    “Rebel bas—” Callie began.
    But his arms slammed down hard on hers, and his eyes seemed to sear their blue fire into hers once more.
    “One hell of a night!” he interrupted her. “I can promise you that!”

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Four
  ————
    The darkness at the top of the stain seemed engulfing to Callie, but it didn’t daunt her wayward cavalier in the least. He paused on the top landing for a moment, then headed for the closest doorway. Callie, breathless, exhausted, feeling the scrape of the wool of his uniform against her cheek, wondered desperately where he was finding his strength as they burst through the doorway into one of the bedrooms.
    “What would your General Lee have to say?” she taunted. Lee might have been a Rebel commander, but he was equally famous in the North. He had been with the Union army when there had been no Confederacy, and Lincoln had once asked him to lead the Federal troops. But Lee’s loyalties had been to his state, and when Virginia had seceded from the Union, Robert E. Lee had gone along with her. He was a man still known for his gallantry, for his ethics, and for his code of honor. Taunting this man about him was surely as damaging a blow as any she might throw with her fist.
    “You just might have the opportunity to ask him, Mrs. Michaelson,” Daniel Cameron replied, his deep drawl strangely intimate in the darkness.
    A ripple of unease went sweeping through her. She should have been more frightened, she told herself. Anenemy soldier was bearing her into a bedroom. It was darkly disturbing to realize that what swept through her was just as much a sense of excitement as it was fear. She wanted to do battle with this man. She didn’t know if she wanted him to suffer for all that he was causing her, or if she had lived alone for so long that she was thrilled at the very thought of battle.
    “Is this one your bedroom?” he asked suddenly.
    She tensed. “What difference does it make?”
    “None. I just want you to be comfortable.”
    “Comfortable?” Callie demanded. “How comfortable can I be, Colonel, caught in this vise against my will? And sure to suffer worse!”
    His laughter suddenly rang out in the darkness, and she wondered if she had spoken too dramatically. In a second she was no longer held in any vise, he had set her down upon the bed. He may not have done so tenderly, but neither was he careless in his handling of her. He must have carried a matchbox, for in a moment there was a flare of light, and he saw the lamp upon her dresser and lit it. Hoisted quickly up on her elbows, Callie stared at him as he surveyed the room. He took in the fine white eyelet draperies on the windows, the braid rug on the hardwood floors, the polished mahogany dresser and wardrobe and washstand, and finally, the bed, with its beautifully carved headboard and footboard and white knit spread. It was her room, a warm, welcoming room, with imported tiles surrounding the