Read Online The Last Confederate by Gilbert Morris - Free Book Online

gentlemen!”
    “And destruction to her enemies!” Gil Hardee cried out. After they had drained their glasses, Mark announced, “Here come the young ladies.” He waved his hand languidly toward the broad double doors that seemed to erupt in a blaze of color as the brilliantly dressed young women entered. “I shouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t cause us as much trouble as the Yankees.”
    “Why, you’re not courteous, Mark,” Vance Wickham reproved sternly, but with a gleam of humor in his gray eyes.“I refuse to admit that any true southern woman could be anything but a joy.” He looked directly at Beau with a mocking smile. “I’m sure Beau will say amen to that.”
    Beau swayed his heavy shoulders and bowed slightly. “I must concede to your superior knowledge of women, Vance.” It was a dangerous speech, for Wickham’s reputation as a womanizer was well known but never alluded to in his presence. It had been mentioned once, but in the duel that followed, the poor chap had taken a bullet in his chest, and no man since then had dared speak ill of Wickham. Beau, however, was a person who loved danger, and in his contest with Wickham for Belle’s favor, he stared at the other man fearlessly.
    Shelby Lee stepped forward, saying quickly, “Ladies, you are lovely,” and the mood changed as Beau smiled and took Belle’s hand, kissing it gallantly. “I believe the first dance is mine,” he smiled. He was an intensely handsome man and confident in his own skills as he guided her out on the floor to the fast tune the musicians were playing.
    “I declare, Beau,” Belle said, “you’re holding me too tight!”
    He only grinned and held her closer. “You’re beautiful tonight.”
    “Why, thank you, sir.” She smiled up at him, pleased as always with a compliment. Then with a mischievous gleam in her eyes she asked, “What were you and Vance talking about when we came in? Was it about the war?”
    “You’d hate to think so, wouldn’t you?” Beau grinned. “No, Vance and I were about to go outside for a duel to see which one would get you.” He knew she loved to be pursued, and his white teeth gleamed under his light mustache as he swung her around on the floor. “Tell me, sweet, which one of us would you rather have get the ball in the brain, me or old Vance?”
    “Oh, don’t be so awful, Beau!” she gasped, gripping his hand tightly. “You mustn’t fight over me—it would be wicked!”
    “But you’d forgive the winner, wouldn’t you, love? I mean, you’d be honor bound to marry the survivor.”
    He laughed and they moved across the floor, conscious that they were the center of attention.
    Mark glanced at them, and said to Rowena Barton, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Beau asked Belle to marry him pretty soon. He’ll have to hurry to get ahead of Vance, though.”
    “Which one do you think would make the best husband, Mark?” Rowena asked. She was a tall girl, like her father, and had his piercing eyes. Her mother had died at Rowena’s birth, and she had practically ruled their home since her teens. She was nineteen now and could have her pick among the bachelors of the county, but apparently had set her sights higher than the locals.
    “Neither of them,” he said dryly. “Sooner or later they’ll shoot somebody in a duel—or get wiped out in this war.”
    She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t like to think of it, Mark.” She hesitated, and there was an arch light in her eyes as she commented, “I met one of your kin when I was in Boston last month.”
    “My relation?” Mark asked in surprise, then smiled. “He’s not the rich Yankee you fell in love with, is he?”
    Rowena glanced at him quickly, noting that he was only half serious, and it displeased her. “No, that’s another man,” she replied. “I didn’t know my affairs were talked about so much.”
    “Tell me about your young man.”
    “Oh, he’s the son of one of Father’s old friends. His name is