as Charleston, Savannah, and Jacksonville. It was gratifying to turn over desperately needed goods to doctors and orderlies—and it was damned pleasant to receive thanks from the various women of the communities he entered—both the flirtatious young debutants of the Southern aristocracy and the more decadent damsels, who seemed to offer themselves to him. All women, chaste and not so chaste, were easily swayed by a pair of silk stockings. Just as it seemed that many young ladies—as well as their doting fathers and manipulating mamas—were willing to overlook any small flaw in his lineage due to the romantic daring of his wartime calling. It was amazing how perspective could change with time and place and circumstance.
Still, he was weary of the war—and aware, as he had been from the very start—that they must win soon, or else perish. The North was a giant, bearing down on them. Irish and German immigrants stepped off ships from abroad—and into the Union army. Thousands of Union soldiers died. Thousands were replaced. Thousands of Southern soldiers died. They were replaced with old men and children. They fought a desperate war, and Abraham Lincoln, at the helm of the North, was no fool—no matter how the Southerners and cartoonists chose to mock him. Now the North had taken New Orleans. As a seafaring man, Jerome was well aware that the Yanks would move up the Mississippi and do their best to break the Confederacy in half. It only made sense.
He leaned back against the hull, feeling the breeze.
And now …
Now he had a woman aboard. A beautiful woman who was seducing his crew. Eyes like crystal, hair like a sweep of dark fire. He knew what she felt like, what she tasted like, and he knew that she was as perfect as David had suggested.
And that she was still in love with his cousin Ian.
Well, this was war, and that was her misfortune.
Just as it was now his misfortune that he should lie here in a strange blaze of agony …
Wanting her.
When she first awoke, Risa could hear the water lapping against the ship and feel a gentle, swaying motion. It was morning. Sunlight streaked through gaps in the draperies.
She had slept remarkably well. Thank God for rum.
She rose, feeling energetic and redetermined to take on the Southern navy.
She washed in the fresh water young Jeremiah Jones had brought for her last night. There were a few small advantages to being imprisoned upon a blockade runner—he’d also managed to bring her a good toothbrush and French tooth powder. Teeth scrubbed, hair brushed, face thoroughly washed with clear cold water, she felt ready to battle whatever demons she must.
She walked to the leather upholstered window seat at the rear of the cabin, drawing the draperies all the way back. They were at anchor, she realized. She could see an island port in the distance, and other ships at anchor nearby. There was a spyglass on the captain’s desk, and she quickly acquired it to peruse her surroundings again.
They weren’t far from shore. Small boats from the
Lady Varina
had already headed into port, she was certain, since the sun was well up in the sky. She figured they were probably not flying their flag—for she saw no flags on the other ships anchored nearby. Identities were kept quiet here, she reasoned. What deals were made, were made in secret. What battles were fought, were fought on the open seas.
Yet, as she looked through the glass, she felt her heart begin to pound, for on the deck of one of the ships—not a half a mile away—she was certain she saw seamen moving about in
Union naval uniforms
!
Her breath quickened. She rose, set the spyglass down, and determined that she must move hastily. This might be her only chance. If she had been left unguarded …
Her palms were moist. She dried them on her skirt and tried the door to the cabin. It opened. She stepped out carefully.
There were seamen about the deck. They carried their rifles, but they seemed at ease. One of them, an
Still, he was weary of the war—and aware, as he had been from the very start—that they must win soon, or else perish. The North was a giant, bearing down on them. Irish and German immigrants stepped off ships from abroad—and into the Union army. Thousands of Union soldiers died. Thousands were replaced. Thousands of Southern soldiers died. They were replaced with old men and children. They fought a desperate war, and Abraham Lincoln, at the helm of the North, was no fool—no matter how the Southerners and cartoonists chose to mock him. Now the North had taken New Orleans. As a seafaring man, Jerome was well aware that the Yanks would move up the Mississippi and do their best to break the Confederacy in half. It only made sense.
He leaned back against the hull, feeling the breeze.
And now …
Now he had a woman aboard. A beautiful woman who was seducing his crew. Eyes like crystal, hair like a sweep of dark fire. He knew what she felt like, what she tasted like, and he knew that she was as perfect as David had suggested.
And that she was still in love with his cousin Ian.
Well, this was war, and that was her misfortune.
Just as it was now his misfortune that he should lie here in a strange blaze of agony …
Wanting her.
When she first awoke, Risa could hear the water lapping against the ship and feel a gentle, swaying motion. It was morning. Sunlight streaked through gaps in the draperies.
She had slept remarkably well. Thank God for rum.
She rose, feeling energetic and redetermined to take on the Southern navy.
She washed in the fresh water young Jeremiah Jones had brought for her last night. There were a few small advantages to being imprisoned upon a blockade runner—he’d also managed to bring her a good toothbrush and French tooth powder. Teeth scrubbed, hair brushed, face thoroughly washed with clear cold water, she felt ready to battle whatever demons she must.
She walked to the leather upholstered window seat at the rear of the cabin, drawing the draperies all the way back. They were at anchor, she realized. She could see an island port in the distance, and other ships at anchor nearby. There was a spyglass on the captain’s desk, and she quickly acquired it to peruse her surroundings again.
They weren’t far from shore. Small boats from the
Lady Varina
had already headed into port, she was certain, since the sun was well up in the sky. She figured they were probably not flying their flag—for she saw no flags on the other ships anchored nearby. Identities were kept quiet here, she reasoned. What deals were made, were made in secret. What battles were fought, were fought on the open seas.
Yet, as she looked through the glass, she felt her heart begin to pound, for on the deck of one of the ships—not a half a mile away—she was certain she saw seamen moving about in
Union naval uniforms
!
Her breath quickened. She rose, set the spyglass down, and determined that she must move hastily. This might be her only chance. If she had been left unguarded …
Her palms were moist. She dried them on her skirt and tried the door to the cabin. It opened. She stepped out carefully.
There were seamen about the deck. They carried their rifles, but they seemed at ease. One of them, an
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