Free Glory by Heather Graham Page A

moment, very straight, as she tried to regain her dignity. She was still wearing her cotton nightgown, her long dark hair was free and streaming down her back in wild disarray, and she seemed completely distressed and unnerved, as if the past hours were a complete blur to her.
    Did she remember what happened? he wondered.
    Her vivid green eyes touched his. “If you were a good Yank, sir, as you proclaimed, it would be your countrymen coming to your aid.”
    “I never actually proclaimed myself a Yank, ma’am,” he said politely. “Naturally, whatever I am, I do thank you for your hospitality. However, we will be taking our leave.”
    She stared at him, lifting her chin. “They’ll catch you, you know.”
    “Well, that was your intent. But I doubt it. I’m from here—they’re not. I know where I’m going, they don’t. But I thank you for your concern.”
    Her eyes flickered downward. He turned, striding for the hallway door, and was startled when she called him back.
    “Colonel?”
    He stopped, turning to look at her. God, how she wanted to be cool and aloof and watch him walk away without a further word! But she didn’t seem to be able to do so. “You did sleep in your own room?” she inquired. It was a whisper so soft that he could barely make out the words.
    He hesitated, watching her. The wine had been potent. He had been exhausted. Had he dreamed ... awakened within a dream only to continue in a deeper sleep? The night seemed so fleeting. He could be the perfect gentleman, tell her what she wanted to hear.
    He could, but ...
    Why on earth would he want to?
    “My own room? Ma’am, my own room is far away, south and across the breadth of the state.”
    She was very pale. “I don’t ... I don’t remember much. I mean ... I remember you coming in here, taking the—the opium from me ... and nothing more.”
    “Nothing more? Well, you didn’t need the opium. Another dose and you might not have awakened.”
    “Sometimes it’s easier to sleep.”
    “Ma’am, that is definitely the coward’s way. You don’t need opium. Thousands of dying soldiers out there do.”
    “Colonel, why can’t you understand, my life is none of your concern.”
    “I’m leaving.”
    “But I—I need you to tell me. I mean, I don’t know ... I’m afraid I was very lost ...”
    “Fine. Be specific. Just exactly what is it you want to know?” He wasn’t going to give her anything. Even as he stood there, knowing full well he needed to run, he wanted to stay.
    No, he couldn’t abide a wasted life.
    Certainly not hers! He needed to stay, to be with her, to make her see the addiction ...
    He couldn’t; nor could he stand guard over her and keep her from the dangers she presented to herself. He had to be harsh, cruel. And perhaps she would learn a bitter lesson. He smiled politely. “Are you still trying to delay me from leaving, ma’am, in the hopes that your Yankee friends will catch me?”
    “No ... yes ... no, I—”
    “You didn’t send for them?”
    “Yes, of course—”
    “Because you knew we were Rebs.”
    “Yes.”
    His smile broadened. “But you don’t know what did—or didn’t—happen last night?” he inquired politely.
    Her color went from ashen to crimson. “Nothing happened last night, Colonel—”
    “As you say. Good day, ma’am.” He swept his hat from his head, bowed, and determinedly left her bedroom.
    Rachel was standing in the breezeway as he hurried down the stairs. He looked at her and apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m honestly sorry that we’re not who you’d like us to be.”
    “Paddy has already gone with the men as you ordered. The others are waiting for you just outside. The Yanks are nearly at the house.”
    “Thank you,” he told her gruffly.
    He strode for the door.
    “Colonel, wait, sir. Please—”
    “You know I can’t wait.”
    “Yes, I do know, but I want you to know that you should come back. If you need to. Come back if you need ... herbs. It doesn’t