Read Online River Magic by Martha Hix - Free Book Online Page B

direction; his hazel gaze softened. “I’ve hurt your feelings. Forgive me.”
    Was he contrite?
    â€œKnow something and know it well, Connor O’Brien. I may be a virgin with a higher goal than saving her dubious charms, but I don’t give in. Or up.”
    â€œIf all the soldiers in the fields had your strength,” Connor muttered dryly, “the Confederacy would be history.”
    There seemed a grudging respect in his voice. Why count on it? “So much for me,” she said. “Let’s talk about you. I believe you’ve been thinking cloak-and-dagger all day and into the evening, yet you’ve chosen this particular moment to back off. I’d say the issue of honor is a nebulous one. So is my lack of experience. We’re just one man and one woman, and I have something I thought you wanted enough to make a very small concession, for the sake of human kindness.”
    â€œThe United States government takes care of its prisoners. What is your true purpose?”
    â€œHelping the sick and injured.”
    Truth—she spoke it. It was India who took care of the people at the Marshall cotton plantation, when Granny Mabel couldn’t. And how many hours had India given aid at Port Hudson, during the final battle for control of the Mississippi?
    â€œI have cried for soldiers, be they blue or gray,” she admitted. “Each was an individual with his own hopes and dreams. All were swept into a wave of no return. Theirs was a much bigger sacrifice than my offering up my virginity.”
    â€œYou’re talking in circles.”
    Could she do nothing right? “I’ll spare words. If I need to degrade myself for a purpose—I’ll do it.” She resorted to a try at humor. “Would you rather I wait for one of those old-goat guards to hobble out of the stockade then mesmerize him with my wig and spectacles?”
    The humorless churl replied, “I’d rather you simply leave. As I asked and ordered.”
    â€œI won’t be riding the rails on the morrow.”
    Fury shot into his eyes. He lifted a finger to jab it close to her face. “You, by damn, will.”
    â€œMy, you’re stubborn. And unwilling to budge.”
    Earlier, before the recital, she’d asked Antoinette Lawrence why the major had been assigned to the prison, but the blonde hadn’t known. India knew one thing well. War hawks fought without arms, and sometimes legs—at least for the Confederacy. Why didn’t Connor, so tenacious, so physically conditioned, fight for the Union?
    Well, wasn’t he? He was darned sure fighting her.
    â€œI’m just as pigheaded,” she said. “I will not stir from this island. I’ll wait for the colonel’s return.”
    How best to handle Lawrence she’d worry about later, even though an image of a wild boar caught in tintype flashed before her eyes and sent a tusk into her composure. Buck up, Indy. She did. In the period between now and Lawrence’s return, she’d do everything in her power to get inside the compound. “Try to stop me, Major O’Brien, and I will slit your throat while you sleep.”
    Slit his throat? Jumping Jehoshaphat! Where had that come from? No matter. She wouldn’t back down, verbally.
    â€œYou won’t be slitting anyone’s throat, Miss Marshall. Not if you’re in manacles, on your way to trial in Washington.”
    India straightened her back, resorting again to the bluff. “I am a nurse-sanitarian for the United States Sanitary Commission with papers to prove it. If you do anything to stand in my way, you’ll be in manacles, awaiting a court-martial.”
    He took a giant step to her, his fingers digging into her shoulders again. “Damn you. Damn your devious little heart to hell. You won’t ruin me. I won’t let you.”
    Ah, ha! She’d found his Achilles’ heel: fear of getting in hot water with the