she felt that she looked as guilty as hell.
'I'm not guilty of anything!' she reminded herself out loud. 'They've taken my sister…'
That thought was sobering. Where was Kristin now? Had they stopped to rest yet? They were heading for Kansas, she was certain. Surely they would keep her safe—until they had Cole. And Cole was no fool. When he heard that they had Kristin, he would take care, of course he would…
Her eyes gazed back at her, very wide and misty now. She blinked and stiffened. She needed to find strength. She couldn't possibly sit around and wait. She had to do something to bring Kristin home again.
There…not too bad. She folded her hands before her, and a mature young woman with wise blue eyes and a slender face and soft wisps of blond hair curling around her face gazed back at her. A serene young woman, soft and feminine—with no more hay protruding from the bodice of her elegant dinner gown. She was ready.
Shannon started to run swiftly down the stairs, then she realized that Malachi was standing at the foot of them, waiting for her. She quickly slowed her pace, and her lashes swept low over her eyes as she tried to gaze at him covertly. He had that twisted grin of his again, that cocky, knowing grin.
'Miss McCahy, I was waiting to see if you were joining me for supper. We're all set, and all alone, so it seems. Delilah has gone out back to wait for Samson.'
She had come to the foot of the stairs. He was very close, watching her face. She swept by him. 'Of course, Malachi.'
He followed behind her and pulled out her chair. Delilah had already set their dishes on the table. When Shannon sat, Malachi pushed her chair in to the table. He hovered behind her. She wished that he would sit.
He did not. He reached over her, pouring her a glass of burgundy. She look up at him.
'What is dinner without a fine red wine?' he said lightly. Then he gazed at the bottle, and she saw his handsome features grow taut. 'I haven't had any in quite some time,' he murmured.
Shannon quickly looked away, feeling that she intruded on some intimate emotion. He did not seem to remember that she was there, but if he had, she thought he would not want her watching.
He poured his wine and sat across from her. He sipped it and complimented the fine bouquet. He cut off a large bite of roast beef, and chewed it hungrily and cut another.
'You're not eating,' he told Shannon.
'And you're eating too slowly,' she muttered.
He looked up, startled, and smiled. 'Shannon, I will catch up with them. I'm probably going to have to follow them for several days to learn their ways and find the best time to sneak in among them. Don't begrudge me one hot meal. I haven't had one in ages.'
She felt a twinge of guilt. She knew that the Rebel soldiers had been down to bare rations at the end of the war, moldy hardtack and whatever they could find on the land. She lifted her wineglass to him. 'Enjoy,' she said softly.
Malachi paused in the midst of chewing, lifting his glass to hers, suddenly mesmerized by the girl before him.
Woman. It had been a long war, and she had grown up during the painful duration of it.
And in the soft candlelight, she was suddenly every bit the glorious image he had seen in his dream. Her lips were softly curled, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were a crystal and beautiful blue, soft and inviting. Golden strands of hair escaped the knot at her nape and curled against the porcelain clarity and softness of her cheeks, down the length of her slender neck and over her shoulders. Her breasts pushed against the low bodice of her elegant gown. She might have been a study of wisdom and innocence, for her smile was soft and young, but her eyes seemed ancient.
Malachi swallowed a sip of wine. She was still smiling. The little wretch. She was up to something. She planned on following him.
He raised his glass in return. 'To you, Shannon.'
'Why, thank you, sir.'
Just as gracious as a Southern belle. He was definitely in trouble if Shannon was being charming.
'You're welcome.' His eyes were warm as he gazed at her. He lowered his head, hiding a smile, then he allowed his hand to fall upon hers. She almost jumped a mile.
'Did I thank you for treating my leg?'
'It was my pleasure.'
'Oh, I'm sure it was.'
Shannon didn't know quite what he meant by that, but she was determined not to argue.
It might be nice not to do so, she thought suddenly.
He was such a striking man. He had washed quickly, and his hair was slightly damp, and he had trimmed his mustache and beard. He had donned a pair of Cole's gray trousers, and a clean cotton shirt, which lay open in a V at the neck, displaying a hint of the bronze flesh of his chest, and the profusion of red-gold hair that grew there. He was achingly masculine in the muted glow of the candles, and she was stunned that his wry smile could bring about a curious beating in her heart.
She had not thought of any man as really attractive…
As sexually attractive…
Not since Robert had died. Then she had dreamed.
For so long those dreams had seemed like dust in the tempest of the wind. She could barely remember Robert's kisses now, or the excitement they had elicited within her. She could scarcely recall the lovely satin and lace gown that Kristin had made for her. Kristin had laughed with mischievous pleasure, assuring her that it would be the perfect gown for her wedding night…
She had ripped the gown to shreds.
When Robert had died, she had ceased to lie awake at night and ponder the things between a man and a woman. The soft, exciting stirrings within her had died.
She had thought that they had died.
But with Malachi's hand so softly atop hers, his eyes with their devil's sparkle so close, his knee brushing hers, she was suddenly feeling them again.
Her cheeks flamed crimson, and she jerked her hand from beneath his, nearly knocking over her wineglass. He cocked an eyebrow at her, and it seemed to her that he was still secretively smiling.
'Something wrong, darlin'?'
'I'm not your
'Excuse me. Is something wrong, Miss McCahy?'
Wrong? It was horrid. And on a night when Kristin had been so savagely taken…
Kristin, remember Kristin, she told herself. That was why she was here, trying to be charming.
'No,' she said quickly. 'No, nothing's wrong. I'm just so tired. I mean, it's been such a long day. No, no, nothing is wrong at all. What am I saying? Everything is wrong!'
'Hey!' He leaned across the table and caught her chin with his forefinger. She sensed a tremendous warmth within him that she had never seen before, and it touched her, and embraced her. She didn't pull away when he held her, or when he sought out her eyes.
'I will find her, Shannon. I will find her. They—they aren't going to hurt her—'
'They are a Red Legs unit.'
'They aren't going to hurt her. Fitz wants her alive. Why do you think they took Kristin?'
'Because they want Cole.'
'Right. So they won't hurt her, or else they won't have her to use against my brother. It's going to be all right.'
Shannon nodded. He released her, but his eyes stayed on her with a curious speculation, and it seemed that he had to force himself to return his attention to his meal. And she had to force herself to forget his haunting touch.
'Is—is everything good?' she asked him.
'Delicious,' he said briefly.
'I do hope so. More wine?'
'Thank you, Miss McCahy.'
'My pleasure.'
