here? Do you think that a full-scale revolt will break out?”
He turned back to her and shook his head slowly. “No, Kiernan, I’m not lying. John Brown can’t expect any more help. If he could, it would already have come his way. No, I’m afraid that Mr. Brown is doomed.”
Kiernan snapped, irritated, “The man is a murderer. He
should
be doomed. Are you in sympathy with him?”
Again, Jesse shook his head. “No, I can’t condone what he’s done. If I were judge or juryman, I’d have to condemn him to death. And if he isn’t killed when the troops ride in, I’m sure he will hang.”
“Then what’s wrong?” she asked him.
He looked at her again, really looked at her. “You werealways an intuitive little thing,” he told her softly. He felt warmth—startling, deep—ripple through him. So often she had read his mind and his thoughts. He remembered coming home from West Point determined to go on to medical school. He had stopped to pay his respects to her father, and she had been sitting at the piano. And she had looked up and smiled when he had come into the room. “Are you going to tell your pa that you want to be a doctor more than a planter?” His interest in medicine was no real surprise to anyone—he had always been fascinated by the field. But he was the eldest son of a very prosperous cotton and tobacco planter. He’d made the decision to go on to medical school himself, without leaving the military. He wanted to combine his interest in medicine with the military, and he thought that he could do very well. He hadn’t explained it all to his father, his sister, or even to Daniel yet. But when Kiernan had looked at him that day, he knew that she understood.
“Intuitive,” Jesse murmured again now, his smile curving ruefully. “Either that, or you’ve always known me.”
Kiernan wanted to know him—very much, at that moment. She wanted to know him better than anyone else in the world knew him. In fact, she wanted to rise and rush over to the window to him and feel him put his arms around her and hold her close. But she was afraid—she didn’t know why—of the emotions she was reading in his eyes, in his manner.
“So what
is
wrong?” she repeated, curling her fingers into the sofa.
“I’m not sure, Kiernan. It won’t end here—that’s what I’m afraid of, I think. That these events will go on and on. The bloodshed between the abolitionists and the proslavery men will not end out in Kansas. The cry for states’ rights will go on, and the split between people will drive more and more deeply into the land itself. I won’t like the way our world begins to move. I love my life the way that it is. I love Cameron Hall, and my brother and my sister, and the sloping grass and the James River and—” He broke off, then shrugged, and she realized that he had let her glimpse far more of himself than he had intended.
“Nothing is going to change,” Kiernan said quickly. “Cameron Hall has stood for centuries now! And Daniel will always be near.” She smiled. “We’re all Tidewater people. We’ll all remain that.”
“Ah—not if you marry this mountain man, this Anthony of yours,” he said. He was teasing her again—and he was doing it because he didn’t want her to pursue the conversation in the direction it had been going.
Still, she flushed just slightly. “I haven’t made up my mind to marry Anthony,” she said.
“Why not?” he demanded.
Kiernan rose and strode across the room to the other window. She wanted to offer him a charming smile and tell him that it was none of his business.
But the truth suddenly flooded through her, and she didn’t want to tell him the truth either.
That she had been waiting for him. Always.
She lifted her chin, smiled at him, and decided to offer a half-truth. “I’m not sure that I love him.”
“Ah. Is there someone that you do love?” he asked softly. But he suddenly seemed angry, both with her and with himself. “Never
He turned back to her and shook his head slowly. “No, Kiernan, I’m not lying. John Brown can’t expect any more help. If he could, it would already have come his way. No, I’m afraid that Mr. Brown is doomed.”
Kiernan snapped, irritated, “The man is a murderer. He
should
be doomed. Are you in sympathy with him?”
Again, Jesse shook his head. “No, I can’t condone what he’s done. If I were judge or juryman, I’d have to condemn him to death. And if he isn’t killed when the troops ride in, I’m sure he will hang.”
“Then what’s wrong?” she asked him.
He looked at her again, really looked at her. “You werealways an intuitive little thing,” he told her softly. He felt warmth—startling, deep—ripple through him. So often she had read his mind and his thoughts. He remembered coming home from West Point determined to go on to medical school. He had stopped to pay his respects to her father, and she had been sitting at the piano. And she had looked up and smiled when he had come into the room. “Are you going to tell your pa that you want to be a doctor more than a planter?” His interest in medicine was no real surprise to anyone—he had always been fascinated by the field. But he was the eldest son of a very prosperous cotton and tobacco planter. He’d made the decision to go on to medical school himself, without leaving the military. He wanted to combine his interest in medicine with the military, and he thought that he could do very well. He hadn’t explained it all to his father, his sister, or even to Daniel yet. But when Kiernan had looked at him that day, he knew that she understood.
“Intuitive,” Jesse murmured again now, his smile curving ruefully. “Either that, or you’ve always known me.”
Kiernan wanted to know him—very much, at that moment. She wanted to know him better than anyone else in the world knew him. In fact, she wanted to rise and rush over to the window to him and feel him put his arms around her and hold her close. But she was afraid—she didn’t know why—of the emotions she was reading in his eyes, in his manner.
“So what
is
wrong?” she repeated, curling her fingers into the sofa.
“I’m not sure, Kiernan. It won’t end here—that’s what I’m afraid of, I think. That these events will go on and on. The bloodshed between the abolitionists and the proslavery men will not end out in Kansas. The cry for states’ rights will go on, and the split between people will drive more and more deeply into the land itself. I won’t like the way our world begins to move. I love my life the way that it is. I love Cameron Hall, and my brother and my sister, and the sloping grass and the James River and—” He broke off, then shrugged, and she realized that he had let her glimpse far more of himself than he had intended.
“Nothing is going to change,” Kiernan said quickly. “Cameron Hall has stood for centuries now! And Daniel will always be near.” She smiled. “We’re all Tidewater people. We’ll all remain that.”
“Ah—not if you marry this mountain man, this Anthony of yours,” he said. He was teasing her again—and he was doing it because he didn’t want her to pursue the conversation in the direction it had been going.
Still, she flushed just slightly. “I haven’t made up my mind to marry Anthony,” she said.
“Why not?” he demanded.
Kiernan rose and strode across the room to the other window. She wanted to offer him a charming smile and tell him that it was none of his business.
But the truth suddenly flooded through her, and she didn’t want to tell him the truth either.
That she had been waiting for him. Always.
She lifted her chin, smiled at him, and decided to offer a half-truth. “I’m not sure that I love him.”
“Ah. Is there someone that you do love?” he asked softly. But he suddenly seemed angry, both with her and with himself. “Never
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