The Officer and the Traveler

Rose Gordon

This book is a work of fiction. All names, events and locales are a product of this author’s imagination. If any name, event and/or locale did exist, it is purely by coincidence it appears in this book.

This book may not be reproduced by any means, including but not limited to, mechanical, Xerox, digital, auditorial and/or in print.

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THE OFFICER AND THE TRAVELER

Copyright © 2013 Rose Gordon

Cover image copyright © 2013 Lily Smith

All rights reserved.

Kobo Edition

Published by Parchment & Plume, LLC

www.parchmentandplume.com

Other Titles by Rose Gordon

OFFICER SERIES (AMERICAN SET)

The Officer and the Bostoner

The Officer and the Southerner

The Officer and the Traveler

SCANDALOUS SISTERS SERIES

Intentions of the Earl (Book 1)

Liberty for Paul (Book 2)

To Win His Wayward Wife (Book 3)

GROOM SERIES

Her Sudden Groom (Book 1)

Her Reluctant Groom (Book 2)

Her Secondhand Groom (Book 3)

Her Imperfect Groom (Book 4)

BANKS BROTHERS BRIDES SERIES

His Contract Bride

His Yankee Bride

His Jilted Bride

His Brother's Bride

Coming Soon!

GENTLEMEN OF HONOR

Secrets of a Viscount

Desires of a Baron

Passions of a Gentleman

~Prologue~

Captain Grayson Montgomery’s skin prickled with awareness. Something wasn’t right, he thought as he idly reached up and touched the back of his neck where his hair was now standing on end.

Gray took a deep breath and walked to take his place up to bat for the weekly rounders game between the officers and the privates at Fort Gibson. Only this time, he didn’t care if he hit the ball or not. He mindlessly grabbed his bat and stepped up to take his turn.

Paying little attention to the man who was about to lob the ball at him, he tried in vain to do a quick scan of the field in front of him, looking for anything amiss. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a white mass flying straight at him.

Instinctively, he swung his bat and hit the ball.

Barely.

Hitting the ball with the bottom of the bat, instead of the middle, sent it flying in the wrong direction.

Whether out of shock or blatant curiosity, he might never know. He stood rooted to the ground with his eyes fixed on the wayward ball as it flew through the air with a gradual descent until it collided with the ground at the feet of the only uniformed man on the field.

The blood roared in Gray’s ears as the impeccably dressed officer bent to retrieve the ball. No, it couldn’t be. Gray attempted to swallow down the lump twice the size of a rounders ball that had formed in his throat less than a second ago, but his mouth had suddenly gone dryer than any desert he’d ever heard about.

Around him, men yelled, cheered, made demands or just spoke. Gray really didn’t know what any of them were actually saying, nor did he care. He wanted his turn to be over, and fast. He briefly considered hitting the ball so far out with his next turn that he’d run his bases and be back to safety, but then he’d have to run past the intruder. Unfortunately, even if the older man didn’t get a good glimpse at his face, he’d for certain know who Gray was when the men cheered and yelled his name.

He stepped up to the plate again, narrowed his eyes on the pitcher and when the ball came at him, he hit it directly back at the man.

Despite the look of surprise on his face, Private Jackson, the pitcher, caught the ball, rendering Gray out.

Relief coursed through Gray when Private Robinson yelled, “Out!”

Dropping his bat and not daring to chance a glance over his shoulder to see if the man he hated more than any other, General Samuel Davis, was still watching him, he took his place on the bench.

In front of him, his friend Captain Wes Tucker’s wife Allison batted her eyelashes and flirted with her husband until he agreed to give her his turn.

“Where’d Jack go?” Lieutenant McCorkle asked Gray as if he had any idea.

Gray grunted. “I don’t know.” An idea formed in his mind. One that just might work. “I’ll go find him.” He didn’t mean it. His interest in finding Jack right now rivaled that of being used for target practice by his men. Actually, being used for target practice would be preferred over finding Jack or being seen by General Davis.

He waited for Allison to walk up to the crude board that marked “home” and when he was certain all eyes were on her, he wordlessly made his departure.

~Chapter One~

“General Rigid’s looking for you,” Wes announced without ceremony a short time later as he came into Gray’s room without so much as a knock.

Gray shrugged. General Rigid, or more respectfully styled: General Ridgely, wasn’t high on his list of people to see at the moment. Likely he was only demanding Gray’s presence because General Davis had asked him to. He shuddered and met Wes’ blue eyes. “Did he say what he wanted?” The question was out before he could think better of it.

Wes shook his head and leaned his shoulder against the wall of horizontal logs. “He didn’t say much of anything, just walked over to the officers’ side and barked that he was looking for you.”

Grimacing, Gray rolled out of bed and straightened his shirt. His room wasn’t the best place for a man to hide, but in a deserted fort like this, there really wasn’t one.

“Is there a reason he’s looking for you?”

Gray’s only response was to grunt. He had a good idea of why the man was looking for him and wanted no part of it. “Thanks for letting me know,” he murmured as he walked past Wes to leave his room.

Stepping out onto the boardwalk, he took a slow scan of the four walls of the fort. To some, it was a simple square made from extended log cabins that were all connected, yet separate. To others, it was their city, their fortress. To Gray, it was now a prison. A bitter taste filled his mouth and he choked it down. Yesterday, he’d have called it his fortress. His home. Now, with the appearance of one man, everything he’d loved now seemed tainted.

A chorus of obnoxious laughter sounded from the officers’ lounge, drawing Gray’s attention. His feet itched to carry him down the board planks and into the room where the men were playing cards and telling bawdy jokes, a ritual they did every day before dinner, then again afterwards until it was time for bed. Perhaps not the most sophisticated of pursuits, but enjoyable nonetheless. And in such a forsaken place as this one, a man had to find his pleasure where he could: cards, drinking, smoking, bawdy jokes, and once a week a game of rounders.

To some it wasn’t much of a life, but to a soldier accustomed to living so far detached from the world, it was their whole life.

He couldn’t join them though. General Davis would look there first. The second place would be his room, so he couldn’t go back in there, either.

Heavy, determined boot falls reverberated on the board plank. Gray snapped his head to the right; then just as quickly as he glimpsed the sun glistening off the metal on the front of General Davis’ shako he took a giant step back into his room, colliding with Wes.

“What are you still doing in here?” he hissed at his friend.

“You were blocking the door,” Wes said simply.

Gray sidestepped his friend and made an over exaggerated gesture toward the door. “The exit is clear, Captain Tucker.”

Wes gave him a queer look and lifted an eyebrow.

Gray ignored him, hoping he’d leave soon.

“Would you care to tell me what’s wrong with you or do you not know, either?”

Gray forced a smile. “I prefer to keep my ailments a secret. It makes life more exciting, wouldn’t you say?”

“I think that depends upon who you ask.” Wes sighed. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

“I’m sure,” Gray said. He didn’t know how he’d do it, but he’d avoid letting General Davis know he was here. And may God be merciful if the man already knew.

He couldn’t say what it was about the man, but whenever General Davis was involved in any part of his life, everything always fell apart for Gray. As a boy, he hadn’t been able to do a thing about it. But as a man of twenty-five he’d be damned if he’d allow General Davis to meddle in his life anymore.

Peeking out the window by his door, Gray caught sight of the General’s booted feet as he climbed the wooden staircase right outside the door. He breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t even a kernel of an idea why the man was here, and particularly why he’d go upstairs, but whatever the reason was, Gray was thankful.

He opened the door slightly and waited a few seconds to allow the general to find the door he was looking for; then Gray would make his exit.

He frowned. What the devil could be upstairs that would be of interest to General Davis? Nothing. He could only be here for one reason: Gray. As soon as the general realized Gray wasn’t upstairs, he’d come back downstairs. That didn’t give him long to escape and chances were he wouldn’t be able to if he walked out the door and down the board planks. He’d be better off climbing out the window in the back of his room. Though the window was only a three foot by three foot window, placed four feet off the ground, it was still his safest choice for it would put him directly outside the four walls of the fort, offering him a bit more time to find a place to hide.

Gray grabbed the bottom of the windowpane and yanked it up enough that he was certain he could climb through without getting stuck.

Putting the toe of his right boot in the crevice of two logs and grabbing either side of the windowsill, he hoisted his other leg up, hooking it over the window ledge. Keeping his hold on the window casing, he brought his other leg up, then released his grip on the sides and jumped down.

Not bothering to dust off his blue trousers, he immediately began to walk casually away from the fort.

“On the run today, soldier?” a feminine voice asked.

Gray froze instantly. Could today get any worse? His mind warred between his desires and his purpose. He needed to get away from the vicinity of General Davis as soon as possible, but what of this young woman?

Slowly, he turned around to face her and his breath caught. Her beautiful auburn hair was slightly askew, slipping from its pins and framing her gentle, young-looking face. Though she had a hint of a smile playing on her lips, it didn’t meet her eyes. He dropped his gaze lower to her crushed and wrinkled gown that fit snug against all of her feminine curves and swallowed. Its fabric was the most vibrant shade of yellow he’d seen in a long time, giving away how new to the profession she still was. His heart slammed in his chest.

Taking a deep breath he walked a few steps in her direction. “Just looking for you.”

She lifted her eyebrows in response. He grinned. Perhaps she was more experienced than he thought. No. Her skin looked too smooth and her dress too new. Unless she’d previously had a protector, she’d have never been able to afford such a fine garment.

“And now that you’ve found me?” she asked, bringing him from his thoughts.

“Would you like to go on a walk?”

Something, fear perhaps, flickered across her face. “No, thank you.”

“All right,” he said slowly. Her response had confirmed his earlier suspicion. She wasn’t yet accustomed to her profession. “How about if we talk? Right here?”

She bit her lip and she cast a fleeting glance around them, hesitation stamped all over her face and shining in her green eyes.

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” he said softly. “We’re here in the open.”

She didn’t look convinced; in fact, she looked more startled by his words than she had before.

He reached to steady her, hoping she’d see in his eyes that she could trust him.

She swallowed audibly when his hands touched her hips.

“It’s all right,” he crooned. His eyes settled on her plump lips and his pulse started to race, spurring him to close the gap between them. What was he doing? He couldn’t kiss her. He’d never once kissed a woman of her station and yet, her trusting eyes and timid beauty called to him.

She licked her lips and all of Gray’s restraint crumbled.

Abandoning everything he’d ever fought to protect, he brought his lips to hers.

Soft and supple, her lips were like heaven. Warm and sweet, her mouth tasted sweeter than any pastry he’d ever had melt in his mouth. This discovery was something he certainly wouldn’t have expected from a woman such as her.

A sigh escaped her lips, and he deepened their kiss.

Cupping her face with his hands, he idly rubbed her cheeks with the sides of his thumbs—something he’d once witnessed his friend Wes do while kissing his wife. Gray had scoffed at the very idea of such a display. But now... Now he wanted nothing more than to touch every inch of her soft face and hold that sweet mouth to his for as long as he could.

Which, heedless to who saw them, was exactly what he planned to do.

Or he would have, had the unmistakeable sound of General Davis clearing his throat with a gargle followed by an ahem not rent the air.

He pulled back and muttered a curse, not sure if he was cursing because he was about to face his nemesis or at the realization that kissing her had put him in such an uncomfortable state of arousal—something he’d vowed to never let happen with a woman such as this. A wave of shame came over him and he turned his head to cast a cold stare over his shoulder toward the man he’d once told if he ever saw him again he’d kill him with his bare hands.

General Davis, a retired general who was here at this abandoned fort for who-knew-what reason, penetrated Gray with his stare the same way he always had when Gray had been caught doing something wrong.

Gray held his gaze and instinctively moved to draw the woman closer to him, doing his best to shield her from General Davis’ view. He hadn’t meant to draw attention to her or embarrass her. He moved his hand to hold her just above her elbow, noting how tense her arm felt under his hand. He gave her a tight squeeze. Not enough to hurt her, but enough to assure her that he wasn’t going to let anyone, especially General Davis, harm her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, boy?” General Davis demanded from where he stood at attention, not five feet away.

Gray bristled at being called a boy and a belligerent answer formed on the tip of his tongue. One that would no doubt send the general into a temper. The temptation was too much, but when he opened his mouth, the words, “Kissing my intended, sir,” rolled off his tongue.

“Your intended?” the man challenged, his stony face giving nothing away.

Gray nodded. That’s all he could do, so shocked by the words that had come out of his own mouth.  It wasn’t until General Davis questioned him about it that he’d actually believed he’d said it aloud and hadn’t imagined it. “Yes, sir, my intended.”

“I see,” he said slowly. “Don’t you think it’s best to ask her father’s permission first?”

“Had she one, I’d have asked,” Gray said flippantly. What was it about this man that brought out the worst in Gray? Never mind. He knew the answer to that, and thinking of it only steeled his resolve.

General Davis moved his left leg out to put his stance shoulder-width apart and brought his hands behind his back, taking the ‘at ease’ position. “All right, ask.”

~Chapter Two~

Michaela Davis’ entire body zinged with sensations she’d never known could exist. Especially not because of a kiss!

In her mind, she knew better than to kiss a stranger. She should slap him. Kick him. Or at the very least bite him!

But she couldn’t. His lips were too inviting and his touch too gentle for her to ever want this to stop, even if he was a stranger.

Then suddenly, it did. He pulled his mouth from hers and a strange look came over his face before he turned to look at something behind him.

Pa.

Mortification flooded her. Not only had she just been kissing a stranger. Her father had caught her!

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, boy?” Pa boomed.

Good thing his question was directed at the stranger because if he’d asked that of Michaela, she’d likely be unable to give him an answer he’d accept.

A moment passed, and Michaela briefly felt a pang of sympathy for the man who seemed rather stunned by her father’s tone. She swallowed her unease and was about to speak when the imbecile said, “Kissing my intended, sir.”

A nervous giggle lodged in her throat. Good heavens, he was only making it worse.

Michaela peeked around the broad expanse of the stranger in front of her to look at her pa. What was he thinking? This stranger didn’t know he was talking to her pa or he wouldn’t have been so glib. Of that, she was certain.

“Your intended?” Pa repeated.

The stranger nodded. “Yes, sir, my intended.”

“I see,” he said slowly. Had she not lived with him so long she’d have missed the amusement that flashed in his eyes. “Don’t you think it’s best to ask her father’s permission first?”

“Had she one, I’d have asked,” the man replied, sounding a bit annoyed.

Michaela felt her eyes widen. She didn’t think this could get worse, but it just had. While she didn’t like the idea of who—or what—he might have thought she was, she couldn’t fault him for his honorable streak. He’d likely thought he was being noble and protecting her from someone who meant to harm her, by claiming a connection. She doubted he’d done so with the belief he was about to be made to propose.

Pa moved from ‘attention’ to ‘at ease’, looking every bit as steady as a mighty oak. “All right, ask.”

The man’s grip on her arm tightened a fraction, then released, but he didn’t remove it completely.

From where she stood, she could only see a partial profile view of his face, but it was enough to see the muscle now working in his jaw.

When she’d first spotted him climbing out his window, she hadn’t gotten a very good look at his face. Nor had she gotten a much better one when they’d been talking. The sun had been so bright behind him, it had made the details of his face nearly impossible to see.

She angled her head a little to see more of his face. He had a strong jaw covered with a day’s worth of whiskers. Long, straight nose. A yellowish mark under his eye—a healing bruise perhaps.

He pursed his lips and clenched his jaw, his eyes still fastened on her father.

The tension mounted as the seconds passed and she pulled away from him, noting the absence of his touch on her arm was just as disappointing as when he’d ended their kiss. She started, there had only been one other who’d been able to ignite such a feeling within her. She blinked to clear that thought immediately. No good could come of it. That was long ago—when she was young and still naïve to the ways of the world. Now she knew better.

“General Davis, sir,” the man began in a tone that might suggest he had a pound of gravel in his throat. “I would like to request permission to marry your daughter.”

Michaela’s breath caught. He’d actually asked. Pa would say no, of course. They were strangers after all, and while Pa had recently become more irritating than before in his demands to know why she hadn’t settled on a suitor, he wouldn’t actually make her marry a stranger. Nonetheless, this man had certainly just earned her father’s respect. There was no question about that.

Pa kept his stance, not moving a muscle.

Michaela walked toward him, not daring to look back at the man she’d just been caught kissing. “All right, Pa. There’s no need to stare at the man as if you’re about to declare war against him. You got what you wanted, now let’s go.”

“Yes,” Pa said.

“Yes?” Michaela echoed, knitting her eyebrows.

“Yes, you can marry her.”

Every ounce of blood in Michaela’s veins turned to ice. “Wh-what?”

“He has my permission to marry you.”

“But he’s a stranger,” she burst out.

“Is he?” Pa questioned, arching a brow at her.

“Of course he is. I saw him climbing out a window and—” She closed her mouth with a snap. Telling her father how they’d met wasn’t going to do her any favors.

“And then you decided to play loose with your affections with him.”

Michaela’s face burned. “Could you keep your voice down before someone hears and thinks something else happened?”

Pa shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, it did.”

“No, it didn’t,” Michaela practically hissed.

“Do not worry, Michaela, there won’t be a wedding,” the man said from behind her, stilling her. How did he know her name? She hadn’t told him, nor had her father mentioned it.

She spun around to face him. This time when she saw him, it wasn’t with the bright sun behind him. Her eyes connected with his bluish-green ones and with the impact of a bullet from her father’s pistol the past came back. Gray. She wasn’t sure if she actually said his name or not. Nor could she muster up enough will within her to care, not when her heart felt like it was being crushed all over again. How could this be?

He took a step toward her, his eyes full of the same softness that had once held her captive to him.

She took a retreating step backwards, even if that meant being closer to her father.

“Act right, Michaela,” Pa barked. “It wouldn’t do for you to make a fool of your husband by acting this way.”

“He’s not my husband,” Michaela countered.

“No, but he will be, and it wouldn’t do for it to be known that Captain Montgomery’s wife doesn’t—”

“That will not be a problem,” Gray cut in. “As I assured Michaela, there will not be a wedding.”

Pa looked unmoved. “No?”

“No,” Gray said. “As Michaela pointed out, you got what you wanted from me. But that’s as far as it goes.”

“And what is your plan after I announce your engagement tonight? To publicly embarrass her by standing her up at the altar? I think not.”

“And what is your plan then, to force me to walk down the aisle by pressing the point of your bayonet into my back?” Gray retorted.

“If I must.”

“Pa, that’s eno—”

“Need I remind you that I never asked her to marry me,” Gray asked as if he didn’t know—or just didn’t care—that she was speaking.

“No, but you asked me, which is good enough.”

Michaela gasped. “No—”

“Well, I didn’t expect you to say yes.”

Stung, Michaela didn’t even bother to speak again. He was right, of course. She hadn’t expected her father to give approval, either. But that was when she thought Gray was a stranger. Not that it mattered. Pa had once told her in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t to go near Gray, ever. Whether she had always heeded his command might be a discussion she didn’t wish to have. But there had to be some reason for her father’s warning.

“But I did say yes, and now you shall marry her.”

“I mean no offense, but my desire to marry your daughter likely rivals that of her desire to marry me—”

“It looked like there was quite a lot of ‘desire’ present when I arrived.”

“You are correct,” Gray allowed, his voice thick. “But that doesn’t mean that I wish to marry her.”

“Then perhaps you should have given that a little more thought before making such a display where everyone could see, then go on to announce that she was your intended.”

Gray scoffed. “What does it matter? Surely you didn’t bring her here to find a husband, so her reputation is of no consequence.”

“To the contrary, you, Captain Montgomery, have ruined her reputation in the worst way. If you don’t marry her now, everyone here is going to think she’s here for their entertainment.”

***

Gray’s gut clenched painfully. Of course that was his first thought upon seeing her, too. But he hadn’t meant to harm her. The same could not be said for all the other men at the fort.

“How long did the two of you intend to stay?” Gray asked, praying the infuriating man would say a short enough time that it would offer Gray a form of escape.

“A while. A few weeks at least, possibly even a month.”

“What the devil for?” Gray bit off before he could remind himself to stay calm.

“To ensure my daughter is properly adjusting to marriage and her husband is treating her right.”

“That won’t be necessary since there will not be a wedding.”

“There had better have already been a wedding,” General Davis said flatly. “If not, it’ll be Lieutenant Walker I march down the aisle at the point of my bayonet tonight and you tomorrow.”

A cough built in Gray’s chest. Lieutenant Walker was his friend Jack who’d recently married a woman named Ella... Elinor. Gray groaned. He should have known, but Elinor was at least five or six years younger than him. The last time he’d seen her she couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven and covered head to toe in mud. When she’d arrived here two weeks ago, he hadn’t made the connection between Ella “Walk-Davis” and the mud-covered ten year-old Elinor Davis. He clenched his hands into fists. He knew Jack’s sending off for a mail-order bride was foolishness. He should have tried a little harder to dissuade Jack from marrying her. Poor man, now he’d forever be stuck with an iron-fisted tyrant of a father-in-law for the rest of his life. He almost felt a pang of sympathy for Jack. Almost. But Jack was the one who wanted to get married. The consequences were his to suffer.

“I assure you, that wedding did indeed take place. But one between me and Michaela will not.”

“Yes, it will. I will make the announcement tonight at dinner and a wedding will follow immediately.”

“With all respect owed to you, sir,” Gray said, trying a different tack since clearly the man didn’t understand the word no. “I don’t believe it is a good idea to announce an engagement that will not result in marriage.”

“With all respect owed to my daughter, you should have kept your lips to yourself and I would not be announcing such an engagement that will end in a wedding.”

Irritation bubbled inside of Gray and he clenched his hands into fists then suddenly let them go. This had nothing to do with Michaela and they both knew it. This was her father’s way of trying to right a wrong and Gray wanted none of it. It was too late for that. “If you’re so certain there will be a wedding, then you’d best be off in search of another officer to act as the groom, because this one won’t be playing the part.”

~Chapter Three~

Michaela stifled her giggle as Gray walked away from her and her father.

One thing was for certain—Gray wasn’t the same boy she’d met when she was fifteen. She thrust the thought from her mind before anything else could come of it and turned to her father.

“Why must you get so much enjoyment out of torturing potential suitors?”

Pa arched an eyebrow at her. “Potential suitors?”

She flicked her wrist. “I didn’t mean Gray. But you have to admit that the display you just made with Gray is similar to how you behaved with every one of Ella’s suitors.”

He shrugged. “They weren’t good enough for her.”

“Oh, and are you saying Gray is good enough for me?” She didn’t know why she said it; it was spoken before she even realized it. Not that it mattered what he thought of Gray since she had no intentions of marrying him.

“Yes, I do think he is good enough. I think he will make you a fine husband.”

Michaela frowned at him and tucked a tendril of her dark hair behind her ear. “You forced him into asking. It wasn’t sincere.” Nothing where Gray was concerned was ever sincere.

“Whether his words were sincere or not matters very little. He asked and I gave permission. There is nothing else to it.”

“And what of what I want?”

“Is that a serious question?”

It had been to her, but apparently he had no interest in what she wanted. “Pa, do you remember earlier in the carriage when you asked if I thought perhaps you had ever treated your daughters like men under your command?”

Pa narrowed his dark green eyes on her. “Out with it, Michaela.”

“I don’t wish to marry that man.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have been engaging in such a passionate exchange with him.”

Michaela’s eyes flared wide. Did he have to keep talking like he’d just walked in on Michaela while she was entertaining a lover? “I would hardly call it passionate.”

Pa’s face stayed hard as stone. “The blush on your cheeks and your lack of pushing him away says otherwise.”

Embarrassment burned through Michaela all over again. “I was merely stunned and couldn’t think straight to respond.” Well, it was partially true. She had been stunned a kiss could be so wonderful and hadn’t been able to think properly.

Pa didn’t look convinced. “I have another theory of why you were unable to think straight, however, that is not something I feel a father and daughter should discuss.” Though his cheeks began to color, his voice held steady. “If you’d like to discuss such a topic, I will escort you upstairs to Ella. She’s a married woman now, I’m sure she’ll be able to answer any questions you might have about what that distraction you had was, as well as what more you’ll need to understand once you become a wife.”

“I will not be becoming his wife,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Oh? And do you plan to run to the Indians for protection?” He waved an open hand all around them. “Look around us. There’s nowhere for you to go. If I leave tomorrow before you awake, you’ll have nowhere to go and you’ll have to marry.”

His words stole her breath away. Nobody knew better than Michaela how heartless her father could be at times and how stubborn he was when he had a mission he wanted to accomplish. He wanted to see her married. He’d never kept that a secret. He also wasn’t used to not getting his way.

“Why?”

“Why what?” he asked.

“Why now? Why can’t I go back to Savannah and earnestly look for a husband?”

A sharp bark of laugher passed Pa’s lips. “Do you expect me to believe that you’ll do that? No, you’ll marry Grayson.”

“No, I won’t. If you won’t believe me, then you should believe him. He has no desire to marry me and you cannot force him, Pa. Even you should know that.”

Pa stood quiet a moment, hopefully accepting the truth of her words. “All right. What if he asks you to marry him? Will you agree to marry him then?” he asked after a moment.

Was her father addled? Gray wasn’t going to ask. “That won’t happen.”

“Answer my question, Michaela. If he asks you, will you marry him?”

“I don’t see what the point of this is. He doesn’t want to ask.”

“I didn’t ask if he wants to, I asked you if he does ask, will you marry him willingly?”

Michaela wanted to throw her hands into the air and yell at her father until he understood what nonsense he was speaking, but didn’t wish to cause a scene. “He won’t ask,” she said through clenched teeth.

Pa poked his bottom lip out. “Then, you should have no reservations about saying yes.”

“And if I say no?”

“Well, I suppose I could leave tomorrow and you could shop for a husband yourself,” Pa said with a shrug. He winked. “I know how you girls enjoy shopping.”

Shop for a husband. That was utterly ridiculous. He wouldn’t really leave her would he? She was his daughter and he loved her, didn’t he? A bitter laugh almost sputtered from her lips. He’d loved her mother, too, or so he’d said. Her gut clenched at the truth of it: if he hadn’t thought twice of hurting her mother, then he wouldn’t give another thought to leaving her here. “If, I give you my word, will you give me yours?”

Pa quirked an arrogant brow.

“If I agree to marry him, if he asks me, will you agree that if he doesn’t ask me before tomorrow that you’ll take me back to Savannah with you to let me find a husband there?”

“Done.”

Michaela went rigid. Her father’s quick response wasn’t what she had expected. She expected him to tell her no or at the very least try to negotiate with her. But ‘done’? That didn’t bode well. She racked her mind to come up with a solution for his hasty agreement. Nothing came to mind. He had a plan and the knowledge of it made her physically ill.

“Now that we have that settled. You may either come with me to see your Uncle George or go see Ella and ask her whatever questions you think she might be able to answer for you about your wedding night.”

“All right,” she said airily. “Though I hope she has paper that I may take notes. You never know, I might forget something between now and when I find a husband in Savannah. All that bouncing around in the carriage and all between here and there might jar something loose, after all.”

“More than your hair?”

“My hair?” She lifted her hand to her hair and let out a little sound of surprise. It was no wonder Gray had come over and kissed her. Between her gown that she’d crushed when she’d fallen asleep in the carriage and her out-of-sorts hair, she had to look like a genuine prostitute who’d just finished with one customer and was seeking the next!

“Ella’s in her room,” Pa said with a chuckle.

Michaela bobbed her head once and took off toward the barracks.

Though she’d love to see “Uncle George”, an old army friend of her father’s who she hadn’t seen in at least ten years, she longed to see her sister more.

A little alley divided two two-story log cabin buildings that made up the barracks of the fort. She walked through it then stopped, frowning. Where the blazes was Ella’s room? Perhaps she should have asked her father, but it was too late now and she had no desire to go waste any more time speaking with him. She’d just find someone to ask.

Or not.

There wasn’t a soul anywhere. Though that didn’t help her find Ella, it was probably for the best as who knew what kind of ideas a man would take into his mind seeing her alone. She shuddered and steeled her spine. She might be many things; but a prostitute wasn’t among them.

Though Michaela and her sisters had grown up on many forts and camps, they’d never been allowed to actually go to the barracks. Not that Michaela always did what she was supposed to, but that was one rule she’d obeyed without question. Now, if someone were to ask her if she’d ever sat by her bedroom window and used a spy glass at night for anything other than studying the stars, she’d have to rely on that amendment, the fifth she believed, that allowed her to stay silent and not incriminate herself.

As a young girl of fifteen, she’d become intrigued by one of her father’s men who she’d decided long ago would forever remain nameless and might have spent a night—or sixty—looking around the barracks to see what he and the other men did. Curiosity. That’s all it really was. But it was enough to give her an idea that married officers always had rooms on the top floor. She scanned the sides of the barracks. Only one side had two floors and fortunately for her, she was standing very close to a staircase and wouldn’t have to risk being seen walking across the courtyard of the barracks.

In the far corner, she spotted a small cluster of men chewing and spitting and leering at her as they licked their lips. Nervous chills ran up her spine. She jerked her eyes away and saw a man walking toward her. He looked a bit more clean and young than some of the others, but he was still a man and for a reason she couldn’t name, the idea of being alone with him caused terror to build in her chest. Not wishing to provoke him or let on to how uncomfortable he made her, she crossed the boardwalk to the staircase that was only a few feet away and started to ascend. Surely he wouldn’t follow her up the stairs?

She was halfway up when she felt the stairs shake under the weight of his booted feet. Her pulse picked up and she sped her pace. What did he want with her? That was almost laughable. He wanted what all men wanted. The intensity in his eyes spoke that proclamation loud enough.

His heavy footfalls sounded closer and closer to her despite her quickened pace. There wasn’t much room left on this shared balcony before she reached the end and would have to turn around and face him.

Her heart began pumping faster. She grew lightheaded as she neared the end. There was one last door on the left. Perhaps she should see if it was unlocked and pretend she belonged inside. Would he know she didn’t?

Suddenly, that very door swung open not six inches in front of her and a man stepped out, halting her and stealing every ounce of her breath at the same time. Her eyes bore into the man’s shirt. Would he help her or only pass her off to the man who’d followed her? Or worse, would he want a turn, too? Panic built in her chest. She forced it away along with her fear and met those all-too-familiar bluish-green eyes. Suddenly, her throat went dry and words failed her. Perhaps facing the man who’d followed her seemed far less dangerous.

“Gray,” she heard herself breathe in relief.

Ever the gentleman these days, Gray reached forward to steady her and she pulled away. No. It was bad enough that her father had witnessed them kissing earlier, if this man saw him being affectionate toward her—even if Gray was just trying to protect her—who knew what might happen to her?

“Looks like yer luck has finally changed,” the man behind her said with a chuckle, reminding Michaela not only of his presence, but also that he was just like all soldiers who thought women were for entertainment purposes only.

“You touch her and it’ll be the last thing you do, McCorkle,” Gray barked.

“I—I was just trying to help her find her way,” the man said, his voice nothing more than a broken whisper.

Once she could no longer hear their guest’s retreating footsteps, she stood as tall as she could manage. “Consider your saving me from the likes of him as fair payment for attempting to use me to escape a conversation with my father.”

Gray’s lips turned up into a hint of a smile and he made a tsk, tsk noise. “I didn’t kiss you because I was trying to evade your father.”

“No, but you can’t deny that evading my father was the reason you climbed through the window.”

“No. And you can’t pretend you didn’t enjoy our kiss.”

Flames licked her face. “Is that what you came up here to do? Mock me?”

“No, it wasn’t my plan.” He crossed his arms and blew out a breath. “Why are you here?”

“We came to see that Ella’s new husband is treating her right.”

“He is,” Gray clipped. “Now you may go.”

“Excuse me?”

“While you and your father were down there celebrating your successes and strategizing the next part of your plan, I’ve been up here trying to make sense of everything. I have yet to discover just how Jack got involved in all of this, but make no mistake, I will find out. What I do know, is that you’re not here simply for the sake of seeing Ella. Your father brought you here so he could foist you upon me—”

“Foist me upon you?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’d say it would be me who’d come up with the losing end of that bargain.”

He grinned at her. “You didn’t always think that way, though, did you?”

Michaela’s eyes widened. He knew she’d had a girlhood infatuation with him? “Well, I don’t think so now.”

His handsome grin didn’t falter. “I have a hard time believing that. Otherwise you wouldn’t have made it to what...four-and-twenty unmarried.”

“Congratulations on your ability to solve a basic math equation,” she said sarcastically. “However, my decision to remain unwed has nothing to do with any infatuation you think I might hold for you, but rather the knowledge that no man will ever deserve me.”

Gray laughed. “You certainly are your father’s daughter, aren’t you?” A cool, impassive look came over his face. “Which also means, you’re not above scheming to get what you want, no matter what it costs those around you.”

She stared at him. For whatever reason, he’d taken some silly notion into his head that she was scheming against him. She nearly laughed at the absurdity of his suggestion. He would be last on her list of possible husbands, were she to ever come down with a brain fever and make such a list.

“Have no fear, Captain Montgomery, I’ve already spoken to my father and there will be no wedding between the two of us.”

Gray howled with laughter. “Spoke to him? Michaela, I was recently tied to a tree by a group of yelling savages who had every intention of peeling my scalp from my skull. I think I’d have had better luck convincing them not to harm me than using my words to get your father to change his mind.” He shook his head and scoffed. “I have no plans to marry, but I also don’t want to see you get hurt or forced to marry a man who will treat you wrong because of whatever foolishness your father has taken into his mind.”

“You’ve become quite the gentleman, haven’t you, Gray?” she said, her voice a pitch higher than normal. “Don’t worry yourself. That won’t happen. I promise. You go have dinner with the men and tomorrow this will all be behind us.”

He pressed his lips together. “So then you and your father will be leaving soon and your scheming will stop?”

She ignored the part where he accused her of scheming or playing some role in all of this and said, “I expect that we’ll be gone from here shortly, yes. Pa just wants to catch up with Uncle George for a bit and make sure Ella is doing well.”

Gray narrowed his eyes on her, but didn’t say anything. “And that is your intention, too?”

“Well, despite your inflated male pride, I didn’t come up here to visit with you.”

He nodded once, very slowly. “Very well. She’s in that room.” He pointed behind her to door on the end. “May you have a safe journey home.”

Michaela watched the bizarre man walk away for the second time since he’d kissed her today. With the whirlwind of events that had happened since she’d awakened alone in her father’s hot and stuffy carriage only to emerge and see a man climbing out his window, she was in desperate need of a respite that only seeing Ella would bring.

Hesitantly, she went to Ella’s door and gave a delicate knock, suddenly aware that Ella might not be in a state to accept a visitor.

The worry was quickly banished from Michaela’s mind when the door swung open to reveal a very excited, if not somewhat out-of-sorts Ella.

“Oh how I’ve missed you,” Ella said, wrapping Michaela in a strong hug.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Michaela confided, squeezing her sister back in equal measures—and then a little more.

“Is something wrong?” Ella choked, trying to free herself.

“I imagine she finds a great deal wrong after being accosted that way by Gray,” a man, who Michaela presumed to be Ella’s husband Jack, said from somewhere behind Ella.

Ella giggled. “Michaela, I’d like you to meet Jack. Jack, this is my sister, Michaela.”

Michaela forced a smile as she greeted her newest brother-in-law. Michaela hadn’t been so sure about him when Ella had begun writing letters to him, but seeing the way he looked at her sister, with adoration for his wife shining in his dark brown eyes, Michaela was certain this black-haired man was a good match for her sister.

The sound of Ella clearing her throat brought Michaela back to present. “Sorry,” she murmured, blushing.

“It’s all right,” Jack said with a grin. “I couldn’t imagine what must be running through your head as you recover the travesty of being kissed by Gray.”

“Would you stop?” Ella chastised him.

Jack threw his hands into the air. “I’m just trying to be sympathetic as she has to begin navigating the rest of her life after such a distressing experience.”

“His unwanted kiss was only the beginning,” Michaela said, forcing a wobbly smile. “Apparently Pa saw it and thought it was grounds to demand marriage.”

Ella’s eyes grew as large as Ma’s old tea saucers. “You’re engaged to Gray?”

How strange that he’d said he’d hated it when she’d called him Gray, preferring Grayson, instead, and now that’s what all of his friends called him. She pushed away the thought. Michaela began pulling her pins from her hair so she could fix it. “No. Pa wants to push the match for some reason, but I got him to agree that if Gray doesn’t ask me to marry him tonight, Pa will take me back to Savannah.”

“And did you give Gray a reason to ask you?” Ella asked with a slight giggle.

Michaela did her best to hold a straight face and twisted her lips. “No.”

“Well, that’s a shame. By the looks of what we witnessed up here, it seemed quite obvious that if the two of you marry, you should have no trouble engaging in the physical side of your marriage.”

~Chapter Four~

Gray almost slammed the door to the stables in frustration, but didn’t wish to spook the horses, so he settled for punching himself in the thigh and grunting as he made his way down to Quicksilver, his favorite stallion.

Something was afoot. He didn’t know what it was, but there was no way he fully believed Michaela’s claim earlier. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to; his problem wasn’t necessarily with her. It was her father he couldn’t trust. And neither could she for all he knew. What he remembered of her was from so long ago that he honestly didn’t know if he could trust her.

Forgoing the saddle and the time it would take to put one on Quicksilver’s back, Gray slipped the bit into his horse’s mouth, hopped up on his bare back, then guided him out to the open fields and let him run at full speed. So much of this afternoon made sense now—and it all disgusted him.

His past dealings with Michaela had been few and fleeting. She was the daughter of General Davis, the man who thought he was in a position to play God in Gray’s life. Of course were he to put aside his own stubborn pride and general dislike for the man, Gray would admit that his life overall was better for the general’s interference. If not for General Davis, who knows where Gray would be: Working at the docks? The owner of a brothel? Chained up in prison? Dead? They were all genuine possibilities. Possibilities he didn’t want to think about, but that didn’t make them any less true.

The truth was, before General Davis showed up one night, Gray was nothing more than a fifteen year-old illiterate bastard (literally) of a prostitute and destined for a miserable life. But that didn’t mean he’d done anything to earn the education nor experience General Davis had seen fit for Gray to have received—neither the positive, nor the miserable. And as if the general’s interference wasn’t enough then, it would seem that General Davis was set on giving him his daughter, too. The very daughter that Gray had gone out of his way to treat coldly in an effort to stifle her well-intended, but unreturned affections.

He winced at the memories and spurred Quicksilver to ride faster. It wasn’t that he hadn’t liked her, for he hardly knew her. Most of what he knew about her he’d heard in the form of teasing from the privates in the military camp where he was living at the time in the home of Colonel Jones. He’d respond to their taunts with a grunt and act disinterested that Michaela Davis had been spotted spying on him; and to be frank, he didn’t care one way or the other. She was just another pitfall he couldn’t afford to fall into at sixteen. If word were to get back to her father that someone suspected he was the least bit interested in Michaela, who knew what might happen. Nothing good. He was certain of that and he was in no position to risk it and be sent back to the brothel. Not that she was a temptation. She wasn’t. A year younger than him, carefree, and the daughter of the commander of the fort, the decision to avoid her was very easy. And avoid her he did. Well, he did until she was no longer avoidable, that is.

A chill came over him as an image of the two of them together presented itself in his mind. Gritting his teeth, he slowed Quicksilver and turned him back toward the barracks. It wouldn’t do to run at full charge into Cherokee land. He’d gone there uninvited mere days ago when Jack was in need of a miracle from the medicine man for Ella. They’d gone together that night, and had somehow survived, despite being shot at and tied to a tree before being made to suffer other forms of torture. Gray returned home that night with enough knowledge and fear to convince him to never return without the sun high up in the sky, a flank of men, and an invitation.

Leading his stallion in a slow trot, he took his time heading back toward the barracks. With any luck, he’d have been gone long enough that he’d have missed dinner. Even with an exhausting game of rounders this afternoon, he wasn’t hungry enough to have forced himself to be upset at missing the meal. Anything—even a night of hunger pangs—was a preferable option over being forced to dine with Colonel Lewis and his guests while fending off an unwanted announcement of marriage. At least if he wasn’t there General Davis might have the good sense not to make such a foolish announcement.

He clenched his jaw. He doubted that. When General Davis took a notion into his head, it was impossible to sway him. So why was Michaela so amiable? She’d all but sworn she didn’t want to marry him and that she’d dissuaded her father from making the announcement. Unfortunately, he still didn’t know if he could believe her.

As much of this puzzle he’d solved, there was just as much unsolved. His best course of action was to remain out of sight for the night. No dinner, no cards, no going to his room, no nothing. Perhaps he’d offer to take Private Kellogg’s place and hole himself up in the watchtower.

The outline of the barracks came into view and it took every ounce of strength Gray possessed not to steer his horse back toward the open field. With any luck he could stable his horse and make his way to the watchtower undetected.

Or perhaps not.

He stopped his horse and narrowed his eyes. There was a man on a horse positioned just in front of the alley in the corner of the fort by the stables where Gray needed to enter. He shifted his eyes to the left. There was another man at the mid-wall position. Damn. On the far right there was another officer on his horse. Someone—General Davis, if Gray had to guess—had planned this.

Gray’s hands itched to tighten his hold on the reins and steer Quicksilver the other way. But the thought was fleeting. He might be able to outrun them, but to where? The Cherokees’ land? No, thank you.

Taking a deep breath and stiffening his spine to full height, he casually guided Quicksilver to the alley.

“Halt there, Captain Montgomery,” came the cold voice of General Ridgely.

Gray obeyed and stopped his horse. “Sir?”

“Your presence is needed immediately.”

Gray scowled. All respect he’d held for General Ridgely fled. Did General Davis, though retired, have some sort of spell about him that made even General Rigid cow to his demands? “I have no intention of going anywhere other than to my bed.” There was no way he was going to tell the man where he really planned to go, lest General Davis come looking for him.

“Whether you intend to or not, you will be coming with me. Now.”

“No, I won’t.” Gray dismounted his horse and started to walk toward the stable.

“Arrest him,” General Ridgely barked.

From out of nowhere, a man ran toward Gray. Gray transferred the horse’s reins to his left hand and punched the man in the jaw as soon as he was close enough. With a grunt the man fell to the ground and large, strong-arm grabbed Gray from behind.

“Shall we add resisting arrest to your list of crimes?” General Ridgely asked tonelessly.

The fight fled from Gray. Though he was being arrested over something as asinine as not bowing to General Davis’ whims, it wouldn’t do to upset General Rigid and have him add more erroneous charges against him. “No, sir. I’ll go. No need for the handcuffs.”

“Good.” The general released his hold on Gray and motioned for a private who’d been observing to come take Gray’s horse and put him away. “What’s that smug look on your face for, boy?”

Gray shook his head. “Nothing you’d understand.”

General Ridgely gave him a sidelong glance. “I’d venture to say you’re right, but then again, I probably know more about you than you’d like for me to.”

Gray bristled. He was going to strangle General Davis and his loose lips. Gray was not marrying Michaela and if she still had some sort of affection for him, this was not the way to win his in return. Surely her father was wise enough to know that.

“One minute you’re resisting arrest and the next you’re practically running to your superior’s house,” General Rigid said with a chuckle. “Don’t be gettin’ no ideas about dining with your friends. This is strictly a—”

“Don’t worry about that. I don’t plan to take a bite.” Unless it’s of General Davis’ heart.

They reached the steps that led up to the adjoining cabins where the commanding officers lived and Gray took all four in one stride.

“Hold up there, Captain,” General Rigid called.

Gray ignored him. He was not going to be told what to do by a man who didn’t have enough meddle to stand up to an old, fusty, retired general. Gray reached for the door and was about to open it when General Ridgely’s strong hand latched onto Gray’s wrist.

“You will respect me, Captain Montgomery. I am your superior and the highest ranked officer at this fort. You will do exactly as I say when I say to do it or you’ll find yourself spending some time in the stockade. Is that understood?”

Gray clenched his teeth. He couldn’t say ‘yes, sir’ to him. Not now that he’d lost all respect for the man. “I will do as you ask,” Gray forced.

The general’s cold eyes bore into Gray, demanding he modify his answer to at the very least include a “sir” on the end. When no such thing happened, General Ridgely reached for his handcuffs. “Very well, I see that there is no reasoning with a man as belligerent as you. Perhaps after a few days of having to piss in a pot in front of anyone who passes by and eat moldy scraps while being taunted and laughed at by the men under your command, you’ll be more inclined to show proper respect.”

“Perhaps if you had a backbone, I’d be more willing to follow your orders,” Gray spat.

The color heightened in the older man’s face and his eyes turned to stone. “Though I’ve never agreed with the choices you make on your time, I never imagined a man who Colonel Lewis speaks so highly of could be so foolish.”

“Not foolish, sir,” Gray interrupted. “I know exactly where respect is owed, but it’s not to a man who cows under the words of a retired general who instructs him to go fetch a certain officer, then bring said officer to him so he can foist his daughter upon him in an unwanted marriage.”

General Rigid’s lips thinned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about anymore than you do, boy. Now, come with me.” He tightened his hold on Gray’s arm and yanked him backwards.

Gray’s body tensed. General Ridgely intended to take him to the stockade? For as much as he didn’t like the idea of going there, he had to fight his urge to resist being taken or General Ridgely would have no reservation about adding more time, or giving him a harsher punishment. He didn’t doubt that for a second.

General Rigid practically spun him around to face the door of his quarters. He yanked the door open. “In,” he barked.

Gray hesitantly walked inside. He’d never been in General Ridgely’s home before and didn’t know what to expect other than it would be similar to Colonel Lewis’ in size and the amount of furnishings.

“Afternoon, Captain,” Sarah Ridgely, the general’s wife, greeted.

Gray nodded toward her. “Mrs. Ridgely.”

She swallowed and smoothed her skirts, casting a glance to the sofa where sat one stone-faced Indian wearing more feathers than a chicken and not much else and one trembling Indian maiden, clasping her hands over her uncovered abdomen.

He jerked his gaze away. It wasn’t uncommon for some of the Indian women to not cover their chests and abdomens, and while there was absolutely nothing sexually arousing about seeing her like this, he had no wish to look.

“You wait here,” General Ridgely commanded of Gray. He and his wife exchanged looks and she gave a single nod before General Ridgely stomped from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Gray lifted an eyebrow at Mrs. Ridgely, hoping she’d explain what the blazes was going on. Did they think to have him wait here and have General Ridgely bring him back to announce his presence at the same time General Davis made his announcement? Gray’s blood turned cold. He can’t force you. You’re not under his command or in need of his protection any longer. He relaxed. Marginally. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the man and he knew he didn’t have to marry Michaela, but neither did he want to have to make a scene and publicly deny any interest in her. It likely wouldn’t affect her marriage prospects back wherever it was she was living now, but it would likely humiliate her while she was here, not to mention completely kill his friendship with Jack, her brother-in-law. He breathed a heavy sigh and crossed his arms. He wasn’t marrying her. He didn’t care what her father wanted; he wasn’t marrying her.

So why was he even concerned about this?

The screeching of old, rusty spring hinges rent the air. Every muscle in Gray’s body tensed. This was it. He contemplated turning around to face General Ridgely one more time, with the intent of talking sense into the man in hopes he’d rediscover his testicles and realize he was his own man and didn’t need to cow to the demands of Davis, but his body stilled instantly when he heard the words, “In, Walker.”

Jack came in the room and took his place next to Gray.

The two men exchanged looks and shrugged.

Two more sets of boot falls entered the room. Gray turned around to see a worried Colonel Lewis and what most would think was an impassive expression on General Davis’ face. Gray knew better. The man was scheming. With a grunt, Gray turned his attention away from them and back to the silent guests who were sitting on the sofa.

“We have a problem,” General Ridgely announced, walking to the center of the room where everyone could see him whether they wanted to or not.

“Which is?” Colonel Lewis asked.

That everyone is playing the pawn to General Davis. Gray bit his tongue to keep those words safely in his mouth where they belonged and waited for General Ridgely to make a fool of himself and speak again.

“Soaring Eagle has reason to believe his daughter here, Soft Dove has been attacked by one of our men.”

The room went as quiet as a graveyard.

“And you think the attack came from a man under the command of either of these officers?” Colonel Lewis asked.

General Ridgely shook his head, his lips clamped into a tight line. “It was an officer.”

Every ounce of Gray’s blood drained to his toes and his mind raced. “You think it was one of us who did it.” Gray hardly recognized his own voice.

General Ridgely nodded. “Is there another officer who has wandered into Indian lands recently?”

Gray’s stomach clenched and he thought he might be sick. “No. But I can guarantee it wasn’t either of us. We were together the entire time.”

Color rose in Colonel Lewis’ face. “Gray, a man with your reputation isn’t likely to help himself with a statement like that.”

Gray scowled at everyone in the room. That didn’t make it any less true, however. Everyone at the fort thought he was nothing more than a womanizer always on the hunt for the next bit of skirt. The idea of him and Jack sharing a woman probably wouldn’t surprise too many, except that Jack had never been very obvious about his primal urges. He blinked to clear the thought. The last thing he ever wanted to envision was he and Jack sharing a woman.

“Though I’m fairly certain I already know the answer, I have a duty to uphold and I need you both to tell the truth—”

Gray’s hollow laughter cut off General Ridgely. “You’ve already made up your mind that it was me, so can we please suspend the formality?”

“Are you admitting guilt?” General Ridgely asked, narrowing his eyes on Gray.

“No.”

“Then are you saying it was Captain Walker?”

“No.”

General Ridgely sighed. “It had to be one of you.”

“It wasn’t,” Gray said tightly. “There are a dozen or more other officers at this fort it could have been.”

“None as dimwitted as the two of you to risk an attack on this fort and all who inhabit it by going into their lands unannounced and forcing themselves upon an innocent woman,” General Ridgely boomed.

“Sir, sneaking off to a Cherokee camp at night might not be the most intelligent thing either of these men have ever done, but I can assure you that their reasons for going had nothing to do with this young lady,” Colonel Lewis defended.

General Ridgely narrowed his eyes on Colonel Lewis. “You act as if you know more about their outing than you led me to believe.”

“That’s enough,” Jack said in a loud, even voice. “I take full responsibility for our going onto Cherokee land without orders from you or permission from them. It was my idea to go, not Gray’s nor Colonel Lewis’, and I’ll take whatever punishment you find fitting, but that’s as far as my responsibility goes. We were together the entire night, and didn’t encounter this girl or any others.”

“And just who did you encounter?” General Ridgely asked.

Jack’s face flushed, just as Gray imagined his did as memories cycled through his mind of a naked Indian named Dark Moon jumping around, shouting at them after inviting them into his tent. And that was preferable to the man wearing only a three-by-three-square patch of leather that hung down over his prick and insisting on riding Gray’s horse with him. He shuddered.

“Fond memories there, boys?” Colonel Lewis asked in a light tone.

Jack cleared his throat. “A hunting party.” He glanced to the pair of Indians seated on the sofa. “Made up of only men.”

Gray shook his head in disbelief. “No women—or men—” Gray added for good measure— “were accosted by either of us that night.”

White lines formed around the edges of General Ridgely’s pursed lips. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“Why?” Jack blurted.

“I believe there was some sort of an altercation that night or Captain Montgomery here wouldn’t have reported to work the following day with bloodied knuckles and a bruised jaw.” The gleam in his eye dared Gray to deny the charge, but he couldn’t. He had been in an altercation that night: with Jack. They’d fought, first verbally sparring, then physically, over Jack’s foolishness.

“Boys, would you like to explain that to the general or shall I?” Colonel Lewis asked.

Gray and Jack exchanged another look, then Gray cast a quick look behind him to where General Davis stood, his head cocked slightly to the right in what appeared to be either interest or amusement.

“No,” Gray said, turning back to face Colonel Lewis. “Let him believe whatever he wants to. He will anyway.”

“You’d better watch it, Captain, the future of your very life depends upon these answers,” General Ridgely said in a tone harder than granite.

“Their bruises came from an altercation that took place between the two of them before they even left,” Colonel Lewis said matter-of-factly. “I was there, and so were Wes and Allison. You can send Sarah next door to ask them to join us, if you’d like to hear them say it.”

“No, I have no desire to discuss why these two got into a round of fisticuffs. We have a far more important matter to discuss—the rape of Soft Dove.”

“She wasn’t raped,” Gray bit off, crossing his arms.

General Ridgely’s dark eyebrow rose. “Oh, and how do you know that?”

“She’s pregnant.”

All eyes in the room shot to the young girl’s barely covered form—more specifically narrowing in on her flat, almost concave stomach.

“I don’t mean to do your father’s job, boy, but when a woman is expecting a babe, her stomach grows out, not in,” General Ridgely said gruffly with a tinge of sarcasm.

“I know that,” Gray said with a sneer. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I’m telling you, she’s pregnant.”

General Ridgely’s nostrils flared. “And you know this because she told you?”

“No.” Gray released another breath. “I’ve never spoken to her. I just know.”

“Just like I just know who did this,” General Ridgely said.

“No, you don’t. You just think you do, but I’m telling you—” he met Ridgely’s gaze straight on— “it wasn’t me.”

“No?” General Ridgely asked.

“No.” Gray confirmed. “You have no proof that I did it.”

“And you have no proof she’s pregnant.”

Gray stood quiet. He could try to explain it, but they’d never believe it. At least not without him divulging details. Details he had no interest in telling anyone. Ever. “You’re right, I have no proof as to the state of her body and if she’s carrying a child or not, but I do have to wonder why she’d wait almost a full week to come forward.”

General Ridgely shrugged. “Perhaps she was scared.”

“Yes, of her father that he might kill her when he realized she’d conceived a bastard,” Gray muttered.

“That’ll be enough of that, young man,” General Ridgely snapped. “You have no proof that she’s carrying—”

“And you have no proof that it was me who accosted her,” Gray fired back.

“Perhaps not. But I know your character well enough and that’s all I need,” General Ridgely countered. A superior expression came over his face. “Why just today I witnessed you forcing yourself on—”

“His intended?” General Davis interjected smoothly, stealing the very air from Gray’s lungs and keeping him from voicing the denial he longed to speak.

“Intended?” General Ridgely asked, a dubious expression on his face.

Nodding, General Davis pursed his lips and said, “Amos, I had hoped to talk to you before now to introduce you to my daughter Michaela, Captain Montgomery’s intended. But, as you saw, she was...uh...otherwise engaged.”

The color rose in General Ridgely’s face as he looked back and forth between Gray and General Davis.

“You’re allowing your daughter to marry him?” General Ridgely asked at last.

“And why else did you think I would come to this fort so forsaken it’s not even on a map?” General Davis asked. “As it would happen, I have come to see my daughter and new son-in-law united in a wedding that would outshine the grandest in any of the big cities. Since my other daughter deprived me of that by sneaking off early to marry his friend she hardly knew.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t going to allow that to happen again.”

Gray nearly choked on his own tongue. That was the last thing the man had come for and they all knew it. There was no use in lying about it.

“There will not be a wedding,” Gray announced without ceremony.

General Davis’ face transformed back to granite, making him appear more rigid than General Ridgely ever had. “What did you just say?” His words were more of a demand than an actual question.

Tension crackled in the air. In the entire two years Gray had spent under General Davis’ watchful eye at Fort McHenry, he’d never seen anyone dare to defy him. Ever.

Gray looked the man straight in the eyes and said, “I said, there will not be a wedding between me and Miss Davis.”

“And that just proves my point,” General Ridgely said with a slight edge to his voice. “He’s just as good as admitted to you that he doesn’t intend to marry your daughter—a woman who he has openly showed affection for. What makes it hard to believe he wouldn’t force himself upon a young lady who cannot defend herself?”

“He just said there wouldn’t be a wedding, not a marriage,” General Davis said in his usual tone. He shrugged. “’Tis for the best, I suppose. Large weddings can be costly and there aren’t too many guests ‘round these parts to invite.”

Gray pierced the man with his eyes. And of course the older man ignored him. Did he just have to come out and be blunt? There wasn’t going to be a wedding or a marriage. “There will be—”

“A wedding tomorrow,” General Davis finished for him. He made a show of looking at Gray and acting the authority in the room. “I know the two of you might be eager for your wedding night, but it will have to wait another day.”

Gray just stared at the man. That’s all he could do. Words swirled around in his head, but for some reason his tongue had grown so thick he couldn’t speak them.

“Wedding or not, this man has committed a crime that is punishable by a sentence of no less than seven years of hard labor,” General Ridgely said, jarring Gray from his fog.

“Is my son-in-law not to have a trial, then?” General Davis asked.

“Well, yes,” General Ridgely said quickly. “But, I don’t think there’s much of a trial needed.”

“Perhaps not, but he is owed that, wouldn’t you say?” General Davis pressed.

“Of course.”

“Very well. We shall all rejoin the other guests over at Colonel Lewis’ and speak more of this trial tomorrow,” General Davis said.

***

“There will be no wedding tomorrow,” Gray hissed to General Davis as soon as they’d all made it into the alley and out of earshot of General Ridgely.

“You think so, do you?” General Davis asked sharply. “And would you rather spend the next seven years hauling bricks and stones through the mud and the muck, gravel and twigs, snow and ice without shoes on your feet or even a thin scrap of fabric to cover your back?”

“No and I won’t have to. That girl is pregnant and as soon as everyone sees that, they’ll know I’m innocent.”

General Davis laughed hollowly. “You have much to learn, boy.” He jerked his thumb behind him toward General Ridgely’s house. “If you stay in the army long enough you’ll understand his position. You might be innocent, but it’s his job to keep peace with the Indians and if there has been some sort of complaint that anyone has done something to upset them, he’ll have to solve the situation to their satisfaction, even if it means sacrificing an officer to keep peace.”

Gray stared at the man, the truth of his words sinking in. There was no reason for General Rigid to believe him, and even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. He had to do something to appease Soaring Eagle that the problem had been dealt with or everyone at the fort would be in danger.

He swore under his breath and raked a hand through his dark hair. Why had he been the one blamed for this? He knew his answer before he’d even finished the question: everyone already saw him as a womanizer, it wasn’t much of a stretch to see him as a man who paid for the company of a loose woman to being a man who forced himself onto another in desperation. His throat burned with bile and he gulped it down with a grimace.

“While I appreciate your believing me, I have to admit that I do not understand your insistence that I marry Michaela.”

General Davis sent him a hard look, then shook his head and walked inside Colonel Lewis’ home.

“Your marriage to Michaela will help clear your name or at least will allow you a fair trial,” Colonel Lewis said quietly when they were alone.

Gray kicked a rock with the toe of his boot. “I don’t see how having a wife would prove that.”

“She’s not just any wife. She’s the daughter of a very powerful man. Amos is in a position no man wants to be in—deciding whether to sacrifice one man to spare a thousand or keep the peace in a place where it’s hard to get the supplies and men we’d need if a fight broke out. Your marriage to Michaela ensures he’ll do his best to find the man who’s guilty.” He chuckled. “It wouldn’t do for Amos to sentence Michaela’s husband to hard labor without a genuine trial and he knows it. Sam would write a letter to the president and Amos would be stripped of his uniform before you’d have a blister on your heel.”

Gray stared at the man, so much more of today’s events now making sense and yet, just as much still didn’t. “Was this entire thing a ploy?”

“Not exactly,” Colonel Lewis said. “After you and Jack disappeared from the rounders game, I tried to keep General Davis occupied in my office to give Jack and Ella a bit of privacy before being interrupted. While we were chatting, we overheard Soaring Eagle shouting at General Ridgely. General Davis excused himself and I didn’t see him again until he arrived at my house to have dinner and he didn’t say a word then about his plan to announce you were engaged to Michaela.”

Gray closed his eyes and leaned the back of his head against the side of Colonel Lewis’ log cabin.  Did he have a choice not to marry her now? Not really. He could try once again to convince General Ridgely he was innocent, but Colonel Lewis was right, he’d have a better chance of being believed and treated fairly if he was married. He almost groaned. Married to Michaela? Could he do that? She was certainly appealing to the eyes with her curly, auburn hair, deep green eyes, and generous feminine curves in all the right spots. As her father had pointed out earlier, finding a passion for her would not be a problem. But what of the rest? How would they get along in the evening hours? Would they just stare at their plates during dinner and tolerate each other’s presence for the rest of their days on this earth?

Did it even matter? Wasn’t that a better fate than doing seven years of hard labor?

He took a deep breath and nodded to the colonel. “I suppose I’ll need to go in there and allow General Davis to announce our engagement.”

“I would if I were in your position,” General Davis said, peeking his head outside the door, a triumphant gleam in his green eyes. “Although, I’d probably ask the young lady in question if she’ll marry me first.”

Gray forced himself to meet the General’s eyes. He knew he needed to thank the man, but the words were too bitter on his tongue. He just couldn’t. Not with everything that lay between them. “And if she says no?”

He shrugged. “She might surprise you yet.”

~Chapter Five~

Michaela sighed with relief. Dinner was over, and true to his word, Pa hadn’t made any kind of wedding announcement. He’d left a few minutes ago with Jack and Uncle George to speak with some fellow named General Ridgely. As soon as they returned, she’d claim to have a headache and she’d be able to go to bed without worry.

Jack came in and resumed his seat, then Pa followed, opting to stand by the door, presumably to wait for Uncle George, or Colonel Lewis as his men preferred to call him. She’d never be able to call him that though, she’d forever remember him as one of the captains under her father’s command when she was but a young, carefree girl.

Uncle George came in and took his seat, not making eye contact with anyone. Odd.

A moment later, her father joined them.

Trying not to look overeager and give herself away, she said, “Pa, we were up very early this morning, perhaps we could finish visiting tomorrow?”

“Are you saying you need some rest, Michaela?” Pa asked.

Michaela tucked a tendril of her dark hair behind her ear. “Well, I don’t mean to sound so rude, but I am quite tired and suspect I’ll need some rest for tomorrow.”

“I see,” Pa said slowly. “Tomorrow will be quite an important day, won’t it?”

She narrowed her eyes on him. He didn’t plan to renege on his agreement with her, did he?

Silence fell over the room. She casually lifted her right index finger up to her lips and moved it across. To an onlooker, the gesture meant nothing. Between them, it meant everything. Most people might not care about Pa’s secret indiscretion, but she did and so would most everyone in this room who had been led to believe a lie. She’d promised him she’d never tell, and hadn’t ever breathed a word—not even to her sisters—but heaven help her, if her father reneged, she’d hold nothing back.

He held her gaze, looking unaffected as the silence stretched in front of them, broken a moment later by a knock at the door.

“Who could be visiting now?” Aunt Lucille said, easing the tension in the room.

Father sat back in his chair and sighed and for her part, Michaela did the same.

“Mrs. Lewis,” a deep voice drawled from the door, sending chills up Michaela’s spine. What was Gray doing here? He walked inside, quiet and drawn up to every inch of his six-foot height.

She gave her head a simple shake, hoping he’d take that to mean that everything was fine just like she’d promised it would be.

He seemed not to notice her as he walked inside. “Colonel Lewis, Jack, Ella,” he greeted, giving a nod toward each as he said their name. He turned his eyes toward her. “Might I talk to you outside for a moment, Michaela?”

“I—I don’t think so.” She cocked her head to the side and gave a pointed look at her father. What was wrong with Gray? Didn’t he know his presence might make her father do something rash?

“Do you have something to say to Michaela, son?” Pa asked.

Had she not been staring at Gray she might have missed the way he flinched at the way Pa had addressed him. Pa had often called the young men about the fort ‘son’ or ‘boy’, but none had ever seemed as rattled by it as Gray appeared. Or perhaps he was more worried that Pa’s word choice was intentional, to remind Gray that he’d been forced to ask Pa for Michaela’s hand and had been granted permission.

“I do have something to say,” Gray said, his voice not giving anything away. “Privately.”

“I don’t think you’re going to get your chance,” Pa said with a slight chuckle. “She just said she wouldn’t go outside with you.”

“Yes, I heard her,” Gray said tonelessly, his gaze fixed on Michaela. “It’s important.”

She bit her lip. If she left with him, her father could call foul on her being alone with a man after sunset at the fort. Even if it was just to the porch. “Can’t it wait?”

“No.”

“Then say it here,” her father encouraged, punctuating his words by slapping his open palm on the armrest of his chair.

“All right.” Gray swallowed visibly, his nostrils flared and his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Michaela, will you marry me?”

The blood rushed to Michaela’s toes and she had the strangest sensation that the floor had just fallen out beneath her and she was falling into an abyss. “Wh-what did you say?” Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly.

“I believe the boy asked if you’d marry him,” Pa said with a chuckle. “Isn’t that what you heard, Jack?”

“Yes, sir,” Ella’s husband said in a solemn tone. “That’s what I heard.”

“Well, don’t keep the boy waiting, Michaela, give him your answer.”

Michaela licked her lips; then again. But it was no use, the inside of her mouth was just as dry as the outside. When had this come about? Earlier he’d accused her and her father of scheming against him, but now it was quite clear he was the schemer and she was the one who fell victim to his trap. She dug her fingers into her thick skirt to keep from trembling as her mouth moved to form her answer, one she didn’t want to give but had promised she would if he asked. “Y-yes.”

***

The relief that Gray thought would course through him at hearing her answer never came and the knots of unease in his stomach only tightened. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Michaela was on the verge of tears—and not ones borne of joy. Her face was red and her green eyes lacked the sparkle he’d glimpsed earlier, replaced with the mask of hesitation she’d worn when he’d first approached her this afternoon.

Did she already know of the disgusting offense that General Ridgely had accused him of earlier? Did she believe it to be true and now she feared him? Nausea swirled within him.

He ignored the curious looks of everyone else in the room and forced his legs to carry him over to her and sank down to his haunches next to where she sat in her chair. “Michaela,” he whispered. When she didn’t respond, he leaned closer and reached to take her delicate hand in his. He ran his thumb over her row of knuckles to ease her trembling. She clenched her hand; then jerked it away from him.

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. There was no denying it now, she’d been a pawn in all of this and somehow her father had manipulated her into saying yes. If he didn’t need to marry her as a means to gain a fair trial, he’d release her of the promise she’d just given him. But he did need her.

“I’ll make this up to you,” he promised in a broken whisper next to her ear. He didn’t know how or when, but he’d make this right for her.

~Chapter Six~

“I will absolutely not marry that man,” Michaela burst out as soon as she and Pa were out of earshot of anyone.

“Yes, you will. The announcement has already been made.”

She furrowed her brow. “I didn’t hear any announcement.”

“It came in the form of you responding ‘yes’ when he asked you if you’d marry him.”

“You tricked me.”

“Perhaps,” he said with a lopsided shrug. “Regardless, the wedding is tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” she asked with a shaky laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

Pa lifted a single eyebrow at her. “Would you rather marry him tonight, then?”

“No, and I’m not marrying him tomorrow, either.”

“Yes, you are. You gave your promise.”

Michaela stared at her father, dumbfounded. When she’d first been seen alone with Gray when she was fifteen and Gray was sixteen, her father had warned her against being in his presence, alone or otherwise, saying boys like him weren’t the kind girls like her should be seen with. That hadn’t kept her from finding ways to talk to him, of course. She’d just had to keep it a secret. Until... She shoved away the thought. She wouldn’t think about the past. What mattered now was her future. The very one that seemed to be slipping through her fingers.

“I don’t see why I should marry him.”

“Because you said you would and now you need to honor your promise.”

“I only agreed to say ‘yes’ to him, if he asked. I never said I’d actually marry him—”

“That’s enough,” her father snapped, cutting her words off. “I will discuss this no further with you. You will not make a liar out of yourself or me. ”

Michaela recoiled as if he’d struck her. That’s all this was about: him. He’d always been high-handed with her and her sisters, treating them like the men in the army, by shouting orders and making nearly impossible demands, without giving a thought to what they might want. She didn’t know what his sudden interest in seeing her married to Gray was about, nor did she think he’d be inclined to tell her if she were to ask.

“I don’t think he’ll make a good husband,” Michaela said at last, settling for honesty. “He—he...”

“Has done nothing to give you faith in his abilities as a husband?”

Michaela nodded slowly at her father’s softly spoken words. Gray had this way about him that was hard to describe. Dashingly handsome, he had a grin that could make a girl’s knees buckle. And he was always quick to show that grin, finding humor in everything, and always full of wit. Unfortunately, he was this way with all the girls. No matter who they were. None seemed more special to him than any of the others, and it irritated her. Actually, irritated her wasn’t the right word. It infuriated her. The way he could go from this woman to that woman without a care was maddening. He’d never be able to offer her or any woman fidelity. She’d learned this for herself the last time she’d seen him.

She sighed. “Pa, I cannot marry him and you of all people should understand why.”

Pa waved her off, saying, “Appearances can be deceiving, Michaela.”

“And so can affections,” she added under her breath, thinking of the way she’d been made a fool by her body’s traitorous response to Gray, both today and the last time they’d seen each other.

“He’ll make you a good husband.”

“He has no reason to,” she argued.

“Sure, he does. He doesn’t want to be forced to do seven years of hard labor if he doesn’t treat you right.”

***

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Wes said, grinning as he entered Gray’s room uninvited for the second time that day.

Gray pulled his shirt on and began fastening the buttons that went down the length. “You hear correctly.”

Wes pushed his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorframe. “I also heard something else.”

“Depending on who you heard it from, you heard it correctly.”

“Is there anything I can do to help, Gray?”

“Not unless you know of a way to travel through time.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t discovered that yet.” He twisted his lips up as if he were in deep contemplation. “My grandfather once told me that if such a thing was possible that I have some relation in England who would have discovered it already.”

Gray poked out his bottom lip in an overdone frown and put his shako on his head. “How unfortunate.”

“Is there anything else I can do to help you?

“Take my night in the watchtower?”

Wes chuckled. “Not a chance.”

“Then I must be off.” He shoved his pistol in the holster and grabbed his spyglass. Truly, he didn’t mind spending the night in the watchtower. He wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he was in his bed. Might as well have some sort of distraction.

Though Wes looked reluctant and like he wanted to ask more questions, he stepped to the side and allowed Gray to leave to go do his last night of duty in the watchtower. For once he married, he wouldn’t be assigned the task again.

Thirty minutes later, Gray sighed and scrubbed his face with his fingers. What a mess he was now facing. Never had he imagined that offering women of ill-repute a few extra coins and some advice would lead to accusations of rape and a hasty marriage to the daughter of a man he hated.

Something flickered in the distance and he plucked up the spyglass next to him. He put it to his eye but didn’t see anything. He walked to another hole in the northeastern watchtower and pressed the end of his spyglass against it. Squinting, he muttered a curse and a phrase about how he wished whoever was responsible for making such small holes in the watchtower should be made to spend a night looking out for the fort through them.

“Then, he might get shot,” came a voice behind Gray.

Gray stiffened. Satisfied that what he saw off in the distance was only the moon reflecting off the river, he turned around to face General Davis. “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to speak to your future father-in-law?”

Gray released a breath. “No, sir.” He raked a hand through his black hair. “Why did you do it?”

General Davis made himself comfortable on the wooden chair that rested in the middle of the room. “I do hope you mean that in a nice way.”

“Why do you care what happens to me?” Gray forced himself to ask.

“Because I made a promise.”

“A promise,” Gray scoffed. “Are you sure you don’t mean a debt?”

“Son, I owe you no debt. As I said at the time, I am terribly sorry for your loss and my role in it all, but my remorse only goes so far. I wouldn’t give you my daughter’s hand as a peace-offering.”

Gray wasn’t sure if he believed him or not. “So instead of a peace-offering to me, you’re giving your approval for us to marry as a means to keep a promise.” He paused. “A promise to my mother, I suppose.”

General Davis nodded once.

Gray fought to keep from pursing his lips. Though he was grateful for General Davis’ intervention—yet again—he couldn’t help but think this might go too far. It wasn’t nearly as innocent or well-meaning as allowing a boy of fifteen to live at a fort under the care of a colonel so he could learn basic skills or ‘anonymously’ paying for him to attend West Point. “Are you saying the promise you made to a dead woman trumps the happiness of your daughter?” His words more a statement than a question.

“Trumps it?” he echoed slowly. “I don’t know if I’d say that. But I don’t think I was so out of line. Michaela did manage to make it to a score and four unwed. She’ll be happier this way.”

“I have my doubts about that,” Gray muttered.

“Do you intend to treat her poorly, boy?” General Davis snapped.

Gray scoffed. “I don’t think I’d have to for her to be miserable.”

“What makes you say that?”

Gray sagged against the wall of the watchtower. “As you say, she is four past a score. If she hasn’t married by now, she might be just as happy to remain unwed.”

“That’s preposterous. All women wish to marry.”

“Then I’d imagine she’d have done so by now,” Gray pointed out.

“She claims she hasn’t found the right one yet.” General Davis’ voice dripped with disbelief. “I’ve suggested that she might have better luck finding a husband if she’d actually look.” He tapped his foot on the ground. “Now she doesn’t have to.”

“A fact which I’m sure she appreciates more than words can express,” Gray said dryly.

“Just so.” A moment passed. “And you?”

“I hadn’t planned to marry.” Gray ran his fingers over the cool tube of his spyglass. “But considering the circumstances, I’m appreciative she has consented to be my bride.” He twisted his lips and closed his eyes halfway. “I just have one concern.”

“Which is?”

“Is there any possibility that Michaela and I—”

“No,” General Davis barked. He cleared his throat. “Is there anything you’d like to know before your wedding, son?”

“Just that the bride will be there.”

“She will. Is there anything else you’d like to speak about?”

“Not with you.”

“No, I don’t imagine a fellow like you has any questions about his wedding night.” He chuckled. “I imagine you could teach me a thing or two.”

Gray shrugged. “Probably.” But I’d much rather teach Michaela.

***

General Samuel Davis ran his hand through his dark hair and gave it a slight jerk. He was doing the right thing. He was convinced of it. And in time, they’d both see that his interference was for the good of them both. Of course, Grayson could see the importance of it now, but he didn’t dare tell Michaela of the trouble her groom was facing or she’d put up more of a protest. That was the last thing any of them needed.

Time, however, was exactly what the two of them needed. He was sure of it.

~Chapter Seven~

TOOOOOT! TA TE TA TOOOOO!

Michaela would certainly have been jarred awake by the sounds of the horn being blown directly outside the window of the room she’d slept in had she not been awake already.

She pulled the covers over her face and covered her ears with her hands.

If escape had truly been an option, Michaela might have attempted it last night. But she knew better. Her father’s temper was little better than that of an irate Indian tribe. At least there was only one of him. Not that it meant much, but enough to keep her safely on the settee Aunt Lucille had offered her. She’d been tempted to ask if she could stay with Ella last night but knew Ella’s acceptance would only make for an uncomfortable situation between Michaela, Ella and Jack.

When the obnoxious song she knew so well ceased, she removed her hands and heaved a heavy sigh.

If Pa was to be believed, today was her wedding day. There was no reason not to believe him; he’d given her little choice in the matter, but maybe she could talk to Gray at lunch and see if there was anything she could do to make him see sense and call off this sham of a wedding. Truly, what did he possibly stand to gain from marrying her? The last time she’d seen him, he’d been uncharacteristically kind to her all evening, loving even, then he took her to a brothel where he went into the room of a calling prostitute and said, “go to hell,” before slamming the door behind him.

A shiver passed over her.

“Do you need help getting dressed, Michaela?” Aunt Lucille said, coming up to where she was still lying on the older woman’s sofa.

Michaela’s eyes fluttered open. “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all, dear. Here, let me see what you brought that might be comfortable for you to wear around here until you can get more gowns.” Aunt Lucille found a simple green dress in Michaela’s trunk then helped her dress before going off to the kitchen to make them each a plate.

“George went out early to talk to Jack and Gray so you’ll have to eat an extra large portion,” she said, setting the plates down at the table.

“Since we scarcely stopped to eat on our journey here I fear that I might devour your entire kitchen.”

“You won’t be very happy later on if you do that. I guarantee it,” Jack said behind her.

Michaela nearly jumped out of her seat to greet her brother-in-law and give her sister a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming back today.”

“All the officers’ wives spend their days here at the Lewises’,” Ella said.

Michaela nodded. Their mother had once mentioned something about ladies at certain forts and how they had to all stay together for safety from some of the men. A chill ran down her spine. “Is it just the three of us?” she asked after Jack kissed Ella’s cheek and took his exit.

“Five. There is Sarah Ridgely, the general’s wife, then Allison. They should both be here soon.”

Michaela nodded once as unease settled over her. What if the other women didn’t like her? Was it possible that in the few days that Ella had been here, that she and these other ladies had become better friends than she and Ella? She blinked to clear the thought. That was preposterous. But preposterous as it was, it didn’t stop her from wondering.

“Stop,” Ella whispered when they resumed their spot at the table. “You’ll love Sarah and Allison. They’re both very nice and in need of friends here just like we are. We’ll all get along like sisters. Believe me.”

Michaela nodded. She and Ella hadn’t been so close as children. In fact, they’d been opposite in almost every way. Ella had spent every moment outside that she was allowed to until she was fifteen and Michaela, being four years older, had been kept inside to cook and clean and learn to be a lady. Some days she envied Ella and her carefree spirit that often endeared people to her.

“When can we talk?” Michaela whispered to her sister when Aunt Lucille got up to get herself a second biscuit.

“Later, I promise.”

Michaela nodded. It was the best she could hope for. “Good.” She let her eyes travel her sister’s form. “You’re looking rather giddy this morning. Is there any reason?”

“I expect you’ll know soon enough,” Aunt Lucille said with a little chuckle, sitting back down.

Ella’s cheeks flushed and a grin took her face. Shrugging, she said, “I can’t deny it.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “As I said, we’ll need to talk later.”

Aunt Lucille shook her head. “You can’t say anything I don’t already know. They all have the same parts and I expect they all use them the same way.”

“I take umbrage with that statement,” came a deep voice from the door. “I’m sure I use mine better than most.” He paused. “But no one other than wife will ever get to know.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” a woman with auburn hair and brown eyes said, swatting at him. “Don’t mind him. Like all men, Wes, thinks he’s superior in every aspect of his life.”

“Well, aren’t I?” he asked, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling.

“Of course you are.” His wife came up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

He nodded then returned her kiss. “Ladies.” He nodded to where the three of them stood, watching their display.

“Allison,” Ella said. “I’d like for you to meet my sister, Michaela. Michaela, this is the other officer’s wife I was telling you about, Allison.”

“Hopefully not all about me,” Allison said with what had to be an overdone frown. “I’d hate for anyone else to know my secret shame.” She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “I cannot sew even a knapsack.”

A sudden, uncontrollable giggle formed in Michaela’s throat. Ella was right; the three of them would get along wonderfully. “No need to consider that a secret shame where I am concerned. I once was trying to sew my own petticoat and when I held up the cloth band that sits around your waist to make sure it was ready for the netting, Ella asked if I was making Pa a pair of undergarments.”

The ladies in the room all burst out in a round of giggles and the tension that had settled over Michaela the instant she saw her father’s face after he’d walked up on her and Gray kissing yesterday eased a fraction.

“I’m sure Gray will be very appreciative of that talent since the men out here lack such an item,” Aunt Lucille said dryly, sobering Michaela a touch and reminding her of her purpose. She needed to talk sense into Gray at some point today. And if that didn’t work, she’d hit him on the back of the head with a skillet. Only to help him see sense, of course. She wouldn’t cause him any permanent damage. Just a tap to help him realize the foolishness of a marriage between them.

“I hope you all don’t mind, but we’ll be going to Sarah’s today,” Aunt Lucille said. She picked up her sewing basket. “General Ridgely stopped by earlier and said that Sarah was feeling ill today.” She handed Allison a large folded piece of cloth with a single needle poking out of the top that had a spool of thread resting around it.

“My latest project,” Allison murmured to Michaela. “An orange and brown tablecloth for autumn.”

Ella bent down and picked up her basket that had to weigh no less than twenty pounds if Michaela had to guess. Fabric and scissors, needles and thread, shears, tapes, pins and patterns all piled two feet high.

“How long did it take you to travel here?” Michaela asked her sister.

Ella shrugged and followed Aunt Lucille out of her house and into the covered area that acted as a hall between the two residences. “A little over two weeks, I think.”

Michaela shut the door to the Lewises’ behind her. “I’m surprised it wasn’t longer with all that weighing down the carriage.”

“And now more than ever I’m glad I brought it so I can begin making you a new wardrobe.”

Michaela wanted to groan. In need of a distraction before that conversation went any further, she casually asked, “Do all the men come eat lunch with their wives?”

“Only the smitten ones,” came the quick reply of the lady with dark blonde hair who was lying in her bed with her covers to her chin.

“I suppose we’ve been married too long for that, haven’t we, Sarah?” Aunt Lucille said, touching the other woman’s forehead. “You’re not hot. Are you hurting anywhere?”

“Or itchy?” Ella piped in, walking over to the other woman.

Michaela furrowed her brow.

“No. Thank heavens, I’m just tired,” Sarah said with a grimace. She fluffed a pillow and shoved it behind her. “But for good measure I did have Amos check my back in case I’d missed anything,” she added with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh, good. I wouldn’t wish such a fate as that on anyone.” Ella opened the curtains a bit and took a seat on the sofa.

“What fate?” Michaela asked. Had she missed something?

“One almost as bad as death,” Ella murmured. She unfolded the dress she was working on. “Around the time I arrived I was bitten by a spider. One so venomous that it made me sick.”

“Not just sick,” Aunt Lucille added when it seemed Ella was finished with her inadequate explanation. “It made her delirious.”

“And those were the better ailments,” Allison said. She lifted her needle and stabbed it into the orange and brown fabric she was edging. “You should have seen—and smelled—the spot on her leg that was infected.”

“Surely it wasn’t that bad,” Ella said as she dug through her basket.

“How would you know?” Allison retorted, not unkindly. “You were the one fortunate enough to be sleeping when it had to be cleaned.”

Michaela bit back a smile at the exchange. If she didn’t know any better, Allison could have truly been a sister to the two of them with her gentle teasing. “But you’re better now,” Michaela confirmed.

“Yes. Much.” Ella pulled out a little square of red silk and tossed it to Michaela. “Here. You might not like to sew, but you can at least make your own nightgown.”

Michaela felt her eyes widen. There wasn’t anything on this planet that could tempt her to sew a nightgown out of such a bold color of meager fabric.

Aunt Lucile’s chuckle filled the room. “Don’t worry, dearie, you won’t have to wear it very long. Gray’ll have it off of you before you realize it.”

~Chapter Eight~

Usually the morning after a night doing a post in the watchtower, Gray was ready to crawl in bed and sleep well into the afternoon.

Not today.

After General Davis had left him alone, he’d had nothing but time to think. And that was a scary prospect for a man who’d just been accused of rape and acquired a fiancé all within the past twelve hours.

“How did she know it was an officer?” Gray burst out by way of greeting when General Ridgely emerged from his home.

“He rode in on a horse.”

Gray crossed his arms. “She said that?”

“Well, no, but he had to have. The Cherokee camp is too far from here to have reached them by foot, accost the girl and make it back before daybreak to resume his duties. He had to have ridden a horse.”

Of course he did. Besides just being a fair distance from the Cherokees wasn’t the only reason a man would take a horse. If he got caught, he’d need a horse to make a quick escape. Even with a horse it wasn’t entirely possible to flee. Those men—and women—were extremely skilled with their weapons. “Just because he rode a horse doesn’t mean he was an officer,” Gray pointed out.

General Ridgely pursed his lips. “Are you saying that anyone else at this fort has access to the horses other than the officers?”

“It’s possible that the horse was stolen,” Gray said evasively.

“And who in the hell is stupid enough to steal a horse?”

“The same kind of man who is stupid enough to accost an Indian chief’s daughter.”

Grumbling, General Ridgely walked off.

Gray considered going after him to argue his case more, but now wasn’t the time. The man clearly had no interest in listening to reason.

In the distance, he saw Wes as he commanded his men and Gray’s in drills, one of which was highly unusual. It almost looked as if they were all marching, then turning to form two lines that faced one another. Then they each lifted their swords, forming a tunnel. Gray groaned. That had to be the work of one person: General Davis.

There was no use in denying it, whether Michaela wanted it or not, she was about to have a very highfalutin wedding.

He shook his head and walked toward his room. Tonight he’d move upstairs to a private room he’d only have to share with one person: his wife. His pulse picked up at the thought. His father-in-law might not be a person he aspired to get to know better, but his wife might be.

“Halt there, Captain Montgomery.”

Gray stilled and turned around to see Colonel Lewis behind him. He released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when he noticed that General Davis wasn’t with him. “Yes, sir?”

The colonel scratched his jaw. “I was wondering about something you said last night.”

Unease settled in Gray’s stomach. “Yes, sir?”

“What makes you certain?”

“That I didn’t rape that girl?” Gray asked flatly.

“No. Even I know that.” He waved a hand through the air. “How do you surmise that she’s pregnant?”

Gray forced a shrug. “Instinct I suppose.”

“Instinct?”

“The way her arms crossed with her hands over her stomach.”

“Hmmm.” He nodded once then slapped Gray on the shoulder. “I’m not sure I believe that, but all right. Rest up. You wouldn’t want to actually sleep on your wedding night, would you?”

***

If the clock could move any slower, Michaela would truly be surprised. Though the timepiece mounted on the Ridgely’s mantle said only five hours had passed, it had felt like an eternity to Michaela.

“Perhaps some tea will calm your nerves,” Aunt Lucille offered, lowering a pot of water onto the fire. “I was a ball of jitters on my wedding day, too. It’ll be better tomorrow.”

“Yes, I’m sure it will,” Michaela murmured offhandedly. There was no way that tomorrow could possibly be better. Only worse. She shot another glance at the clock. In ten minutes it would be time for lunch and with any luck, Gray would join Wes and Jack, the smitten officers, and come join her for lunch. Perhaps then they could talk.

Unfortunately, lunchtime only confirmed what she already knew: Gray was anything but smitten with her. Wes arrived first, followed a few minutes later by Jack. Both immediately went to their wives for a hug and kiss, which they gladly gave.

Michaela’s heart constricted. At least Ella had made a good match. If nothing else, she could forever be thankful for that.

“What has both of you fellows looking like you’ve just been to war against the redcoats?” Aunt Lucille asked. When they both furrowed their brows, she flicked her wrist. “Never mind. That might have been a little before your time.”

“Well,” Jack drawled, accepting a glass of water from his wife.  “If you’re asking what has us both looking as if we’ve just been run over with a team of four, I’d say he masquerades around under the name of General Davis.” He shook his head. “This fancy wedding he’s planning has made me extremely grateful that Ella defied him and agreed to come be my wife as a mail-order bride.”

Michaela grinned and Wes shuddered. “I’m just glad I don’t have to spend holidays with the man.”

Jack groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “As I said, I’m grateful I got away with a small wedding.”

“Small wedding?” Ella echoed. “Surely you wouldn’t refer to ours as a small wedding. More like nonexistent.”

“Perhaps if it wasn’t as grand as you’d have liked, the two of you can take mine and Gray’s place this afternoon?” Michaela suggested with an overdone smile.

“Oh, no. We’ve had our wedding, this one is for you.” Ella set a sandwich on her plate and brought it to her husband.

Jack took the plate from Ella and whispered something in her ear, the only words of which Michaela could understand were “wedding night”. Ella flushed and turned back to Michaela, but couldn’t meet her eye. “It won’t be so bad. Gray is an honorable man.”

Michaela cocked her head to the side to stare at her sister. Did Ella even remember the boy known only as Grayson, who wasn’t really Colonel Jones’ son, but not really old enough to be in the army, either? More of an errand boy who was made to clean up after the soldiers or fetch them things they wanted. Michaela had once asked Pa why he’d come to the fort, and had been given a firm answer to never mention his presence again. Being a girl of fifteen, Pa’s reluctance to speak any more about it, had only stoked her interest and led her to spy on him or position herself in situations where she could try to talk to him. Ella, however, was too enthralled with wildflowers and mud pies to notice his existence.

“I agree,” Jack chimed in. “He’s an honorable sort, Michaela. I think he’ll make you a fine husband.”

Michaela suddenly felt like the world was caving in around her as she looked at everyone in the room. They all seemed to be nodding in agreement. How odd. Just yesterday, it was Jack who seemed to be offering her his remorse over her being kissed by the man and now he seemed to be a champion for the match?

“Dare I ask just where is this man who everyone thinks will be a wonderful husband?”

“In bed,” Wes said. Then his blue eyes doubled in size and he choked. “Alone.”

“I think you’re only making it worse, Wes,” Allison said with a smile. She handed a plate to Wes then took her seat next to him. “Last night was Gray’s night in the watchtower so he’s probably still sleeping.”

“If you’d like to see him, we can escort you over there to his room,” Jack offered.

“He might be ready for a reprieve from your father,” Wes added.

“Oh, now, Sam’s not that bad,” Aunt Lucille chastised, pouring each of the men a cup of coffee.

“It’s quite obvious you haven’t spent as much time in Pa’s presence as we have,” Michaela said, standing to help serve lunch. “The past fifteen years have changed him remarkably.”

Aunt Lucille smiled sadly. “You and your sister have both changed a lot, too.” Her smile grew. “Why I didn’t even recognize Ella when she first came. Not that I had half a chance since Jack kept her sequestered for the first week.”

Jack threw his hands into the air. “What can I say? When a man has a wife as fine as mine, he doesn’t wish to share.”

“All right, that’s enough of that. We’re all about to eat,” Wes said, eliciting a giggle from the women.

“Sequestered, you say?” She looked at Ella to elaborate.

“Not exactly sequestered,” Ella said lightly. “More like...separated.”

Michaela brought her cup of tea to her lips. Was her sister still a blushing bride? Oh, of course she was, she’d only been married a matter of days, two weeks at best. “I see...”

“Oh, for the love of pistols,” Wes broke out. “It wasn’t nearly as romantic as you all make it sound.”

“Indeed,” Jack agreed with a grimace. He took a bite of his sandwich and wiped his mouth. “I take it she didn’t inform you of how serious her illness was.”

“Whose illness?” boomed her father.

“Does the man ever knock?” Jack muttered under his breath.

“Only when I think there might be a reason to,” Pa said with a pointed look at Jack and Ella who both colored. He made his way to where Aunt Lucille had been preparing lunch and made himself a plate. “Now, who was ill?”

“No one,” Ella said quickly at the same time Allison said, “Mrs. Ridgely. She hasn’t been feeling well all day.”

Everyone turned to look at the poor woman who was lying in her bed with the covers up to her chin.

Pa bit into his sandwich. “What’s wrong with her?”

Aunt Lucille shrugged. “She’s just not feeling well, Sam. Sometimes it happens.”

“Just as long as it stays contained and doesn’t transfer to Michaela.”

Michaela closed her eyes so she wouldn’t roll them. “I hardly believe that if I became ill that you’d allow me to call off this sham of a wedding.”

“Oh, it’s no sham, my girl. It’ll be happening and in high style.”

“Yes, I’ve heard.” Michaela idly fingered the edges of her untouched sandwich. “Dare I ask how my groom feels about these arrangements?”

“I’d offer to take you to him so you could ask him yourself, but last I heard he was in his room and a man’s room is not the proper place for an unmarried young lady.”

Had Michaela actually been drinking the tea Aunt Lucille had given her, her father would have been wearing it. In a matter of hours she was supposed to marry this particular man. What did it matter if he took her to see him early? It didn’t. His real reason was that he didn’t want her to try to dissuade Gray from going through with whatever foolish plan these two had formed; which was exactly what she wanted to do and with any luck Jack or Wes would take her to see him after lunch.

~Chapter Nine~

Gray sat on the end of his bed, turning his shako over in his hands. Was he doing the right thing?

Yes. You have no choice, screamed the voice inside his head, overpowering another that pleaded with him in a broken whisper to consider his choice more carefully.

He knew Michaela didn’t deserve to be saddled with a wretch such as himself, but it was his only chance at clearing his name.

He exhaled. That didn’t make it right. He tossed his hat to the floor and put his elbows on his knees, then dropped his head in his hands and pressed his fingertips against his eyelids until bright shapes erupted.

He had to tell her. She deserved to know.

It had been obvious by the look on her face and the hesitancy in her voice that she hadn’t accepted his suit on her own accord. Of course that worked out very well for him, but what did that mean for her? Would she grow to resent him? If she didn’t already, she certainly would when she learned the reason he proposed to her, and he had a strange feeling her father had not thought it fit to tell her.

With a grunt he took to his feet. This blasted wedding was set to take place in less than two hours. With any luck she hadn’t yet gone off to get dressed or he might not get a chance to speak to her, and for as ill-mannered as everyone thought he was, he’d be reluctant to stop the wedding to talk to her. Not to say he wouldn’t, because he would, but he’d rather not.

Fortunately for Gray, he found Michaela before she’d begun dressing for their wedding.

Unfortunately for Michaela—but even more fortunate for Gray—she’d already begun undressing to change for their wedding.

“I need to talk to Michaela,” he informed Mrs. Lewis when she answered the door.

“Now, isn’t a good time,” she hedged as she tried to close the door on him.

He slid his hand in the door, stopping her from shutting the door. He pushed himself inside her home “I need to talk to her now. It’ll only take a minute.”

“She’s not—”

Whatever else she said, he didn’t hear when he saw Michaela standing in the back corner wearing only her corset, chemise and stockings.

“Sorry to intrude,” Gray said with a swallow, unable to look at anything or anyone other than Michaela. “But I need to see Michaela.”

“There’ll be enough time for that in a few hours,” Mrs. Lewis chastised.

Gray shook his head. “Now,” he rasped.

Mrs. Lewis sighed. “Well, I certainly don’t approve, but since you’re about to marry her anyway, I suppose I’ll give you a minute.” She poked a boney finger in the middle of his chest. “But it’ll only be a minute. Don’t you be thinking about staging a seduction in my house, Captain.”

“Could you not have waited,” Michaela said, grabbing her discarded gown to hold up in front of herself.

Gray ignored the way her voice cracked mid-sentence and was vaguely aware that the other ladies had filed out of the stifling room. Even with his sleeves up and his shirt not completely buttoned up, he felt like he was in an inferno. He ran his fingers along the edge of the end table next to him, pressing his flesh against the sharp ridge as hard as he could to distract himself from her. “No. I need to talk to you before the wedding.”

“You’ve come to renege on your proposal?”

His heart slammed in his chest at the hopeful tone in her voice, only validating what he already knew of her acceptance. “No. I’m not reneging. But—” he ran his free hand through his black hair and pushed the fingertips of the other hand even harder into the sharp edge of table— “I need you to know why I made the offer.”

“Because you’ve secretly been in love with me all of these years?”

He chuckled. “No. Not quite, but it’s a good theory, I suppose.” He lifted his brows. “Is that your reason for acceptance?”

Her laugher filled the room. “No. If you’ll remember, the last time I saw you, you gave me no reason to carry such an emotion for you all of these years. It was a wager I made—and lost—with my father that led to my acceptance.”

“Better a lost wager, than being coerced, I suppose,” he said lightly. He’d rather forever forget the events that led up to the last time they’d seen each other, so he didn’t want to even address that. “I didn’t know it was a lost wager, but I did suspect you had no interest in me.”

“Then why did you propose?” she burst out.

“Because I need you.”

She laughed again, but this time it was devoid of any humor. “Need? Me? I have a hard time believing that.”

“Would you have a hard time believing I’ve been accused of raping an Indian maiden named Soft Dove?”

He waited for her to jump back and recoil, or at the very least shriek. Instead she shocked him to the core when she opened her mouth, licked her lips, and said, “Yes.”

***

Michaela’s mind spun. Gray was many things: devilishly handsome, too charming for his own good, and no doubt a skirt chaser, but a rapist? No. It had been many years since she’d been around him, but if he’d held onto half the morals he’d had at sixteen then she had no doubt this was a false accusation. She blinked to clear her thoughts. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t think you did,” he said with a slight frown. “Does this change anything?”

“I-I don’t think so,” she forced herself to say. “I’m assuming my father knows of this?”

Gray nodded. “He overheard it right before he found us yesterday and thought if we were married that I’d stand a better chance at a fair trial.”

“Is that why you—” She closed her mouth with an audible snap.

“Kissed you?” he supplied for her. “No. I kissed you because I was drawn to you.” A self-deprecating grin spread his lips. “Though if I hadn’t, I do wonder how your father would have managed to push this match.”

“Oh if he wanted it, he’d have found a way,” Michaela assured him. “It might not have been quite as easy, but he’d have found a way.” She lowered herself into a nearby chair. This was a lot to take in, the least of which was the stabbing sensation in her chest that her father’s loyalty to Gray once again overshadowed what she wanted. “So what happens now?”

“There will be a trial. With how irate General Ridgely was about it last night, I imagine he’s already sent messengers to Fort Smith to summons General Bridges to act as an impartial judge to hear the facts and make the best judgment of what should happen next.” He reached for an empty chair and brought it over to where she sat then took a seat. “If he finds there is enough evidence to prove me guilty, then I’ll go to Washington to be officially tried and sentenced to seven years of hard labor and you’ll be as good as a free woman. But if he doesn’t find enough evidence, then...” He shrugged. “Of course this all depends on you and if you’re still willing to marry me.”

She released a shaky laugh. “I don’t think I have a choice. My father—”

“Can go to hell just like I told him nine years ago. What do you want?”

What did she want? What a strange question for him to ask her. Nine years ago, she’d have wanted him. No reservations whatsoever. She closed her eyes. What did she want? “Can I ask you something?”

He pursed his lips and nodded tersely.

“Is there any other suspect?”

He looked relieved for a moment, and then the muscles in his face grew tight. “Jack.”

Her breath caught. “Jack?”

“He and I went into Indian lands last week and now we’re being blamed.” He clasped his hand in front of him, the muscles in his bare forearms bulging. “Blaming Jack was just a formality because we both went, but the real suspect is me.”

Now it made sense why yesterday Jack and Ella had seemed so sympathetic toward her misfortune of being kissed by Gray and her father’s looming threat to push the match, and yet today, they’d seemed intent to try to encourage her by saying he was an honorable man. They must have known he was in trouble and needed her help. She momentarily wondered why he didn’t defend himself more and try to convince her that he was just as innocent as Jack. But he didn’t need to. She knew he was innocent. Nine years ago he’d had been thrashed nearly to death for trying to defend a woman who’d been ruthlessly attacked by group men at the fort. That spoke volumes of his character. He might enjoy seeking his pleasure with women of loose morals, but he’d never force one. She choked down the bile in her throat with an audible and uncomfortable gulp.

“I’ll do it,” she croaked.

He went completely still. “You’ll marry me?”

She nodded. How could she tell him ‘no’? Though her most prominent memory of him had been him leaving her side to answer the call of a prostitute, she couldn’t deny that if it had been anyone but Gray who’d found her and helped her escape the scene she’d happened upon, she could have been in the same situation as the woman those men had been using. She shivered. He’d saved her once; she could do the same for him. “Yes, Gray, I’ll marry you.”

~Chapter Ten~

The wedding was the most garish affair Michaela had ever witnessed. Make no mistake, there was all pomp and circumstance due the new bride and groom, complete with loud horns, shouted commands and sharp swords being drawn.

It was just the way she’d remembered the wedding she’d used her spyglass to witness from a tree when she was twelve.

Without many options available to her, she donned a red gown and tried to dress it up with a silver scarf she’d brought with her; though to be honest, her attire paled in comparison to the dashing figure her groom cut. He was magnificent, clad in his complete uniform: perfectly pressed blue trousers with twin stripes down the sides that rested above a pair of black leather boots polished to perfection. His coat was closed with a row of six golden buttons and his eight-inch, stovepipe shako was held perfectly atop his head with the red cock feather perched on top.

She took his proffered arm and allowed him to lead her through the tunnel created by two columns of men holding up their swords.

He covered her hand with his free one. “Thank you,” he said, giving her hand a light squeeze.

She squeezed his arm in return. “You’re welcome.”

At the end of the line of privates stood the only “guests” who’d attended the wedding: Ella, Aunt Lucille and Allison. All the men had been there merely out of obligation to perform at the insistence of General Davis.

“You made a beautiful bride, Michaela,” Ella said, wrapping her in a hug.

“Thank you.”

Still holding Michaela, Ella lowered her voice to a whisper. “After you’re done receiving everyone’s felicitations, have Gray bring you by my room before you go home so we can talk for a few minutes.”

Michaela blushed and released her sister and turned to Jack who was also in full uniform, shaking Gray’s hand. He tipped his hat to Michaela and smiled. “I suppose unthinkable things can still happen since I am now related to Gray.”

“I’m just glad it was you and not me,” Wes quipped, holding his hand out toward Gray.

“Don’t you worry about them, they’re always harassing each other like this,” Allison said to Michaela. “But deep down, I think they all love each other like brothers.”

“Add a few more ‘deeps’ in there, Allison,” Gray remarked with a wide grin.

“I don’t think I have to. I think I got it right the first time.”

“Congratulations to you both,” Uncle George said. He hugged Michaela then slapped Gray on the back. “I suppose since the men outnumber the women that there won’t be any need for dancing.”

“Oh, don’t think you’re getting out of it that easily,” Aunt Lucille chirped, looping her arm through his and leading him off. “You’re a commanding officer, you can command the band to...” Her words were lost in the distance.

Pa walked up then, he was the only one they hadn’t yet received, since the Ridgely’s were unable to make it due to Mrs. Ridgely still not feeling well.

Silence hung between them all and Michaela wondered if he knew that she and Gray had talked before the wedding. Not that it mattered a great deal; she married Gray knowing the truth. Although she had to admit it did sting that her father had thought to shield her from it and force the match for the sole purpose of helping Gray.

“You be sure to treat her right,” Pa clipped to Gray. He then turned to Michaela. “The same goes for you, young lady.”

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think his brash tone was his way of hiding some sort of emotion, but she knew better than to believe her father was capable of any emotions other than irritation or anger.

Around them, the privates continued to stand in their positions, waiting to be dismissed by Jack and Wes. “Shall I escort you to our room to get changed for dinner, Mrs. Montgomery?” Gray asked softly.

A shiver skated down her spine. “I’m not very hungry.”

“I see...” The corner of his lips tipped up into a smile. “In that case, shall I escort you to our room for the evening?”

“N-not yet.” She cleared her throat. “I need to talk to Ella first.”

“All right.” He gestured to where Ella stood beside her husband who was commanding his line of men to fall out. “She looks preoccupied.”

“I can wait.”

He chuckled and reached for her hand. He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Looks like they’re done.”

Michaela’s feet felt like weights had been attached to her ankles as she and Gray ascended the rickety stairs behind Jack and Ella. When they finally reached the top, Gray called Jack to stand outside and talk to him for a few minutes while the ladies went inside. Before closing the door, Michaela shot him a grateful smile.

“Are you nervous?” Ella asked without ceremony.

“Perhaps a little.”

“Don’t be. It’s not as bad as you might think. He’ll just take his—”

“Ella, stop,” Michaela blurted, holding her hand up. “I know what he’s going to do.” She’d never admit this to her sister, but she’d seen firsthand what happened between a man and a woman and while she wasn’t looking forward to it, she certainly didn’t need to hear details about it from her sister.

Ella frowned. “If you already know then why did you come in here?”

“Because you kept asking me to come talk to you. I thought you had something to say.”

“I did. I wanted to tell you—”

“How I’d soon be violated,” Michaela finished for her. “Was there anything else?”

“No. Just that.” A blush stole over Ella’s cheeks. “But I’d hardly call it being violated. I rather enjoy—”

“And if you want me to continue to enjoy having meals with you and your husband you’d better stop.”

Ella tucked a stray tendril of her black hair behind her ear. “I won’t try to convince you further, but I think you’ll change your mind soon enough. From what I hear, Gray is quite... experienced.”

Michaela’s cheeks heated and her stomach sank. She’d heard that, too, and had little faith that his thirst for more experience would be quenched now that he was married. “While I’m sure that he likes people to know that little fact about himself, as his wife, I don’t.”

“Oh, Michaela, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to reassure you.”

“Reassure me of what? That my husband is a depraved?”

“No.” Ella drew the word out slowly. “That he’d be careful.” She sighed. “You can’t change what he’s already done any more than he can. It’s done, but perhaps he’s learned from his experience and can make it something you’ll enjoy.”

Michaela stared at her sister. Had the heat gotten to her or had her sister become some sort of wanton who enjoyed that? Never mind that. It wasn’t for Michaela to judge. “Well, if that’s all you had to say, I should be going.”

Ella’s brow creased. “Are you angry with me?”

“No. I just...I think it’s best I don’t keep Gray waiting, that’s all.”

“All right,” Ella said quietly. “At least let me walk you outside.”

On the other side of the door, both men stood with their arms crossed and were leaning back against the balcony railing, neither talking nor looking at each other. Michaela had the strangest urge to giggle. They appeared just as uncomfortable as she had been in that room with Ella. Likely they knew what she and Ella had been talking about. She ducked her head to avoid either of their gazes and began walking down toward where she assumed their room would be.

There were only four rooms on this section of the fort. Ella and Jack shared the room on the far left; next was the room she’d assumed was Wes and Allison’s by the pink curtains hanging in the window. That meant that one of the other rooms on this strip was to be her new home, unless they were to be in the other segment.

“This one,” Gray said as if he’d read her mind.

Michaela stopped and waited for Gray to come around and open the door for her. She walked inside and froze. During the wedding someone had moved her one trunk and travel bag into the room.

The room itself wasn’t as barren as she thought it might be. Four tin plates and matching cups, alongside three canisters of dried foods rested on the middle shelf of the three-tier rack in the corner. A pitcher, basin, and a cast iron pot on the shelf above. The shelf on the bottom held two towels and a small chunk of lye soap. A few feet from stood a small table with two chairs, one placed on either side. The wood was heavily scarred, with a crack bisecting the tabletop. The bureau in the corner had three uneven drawers, one so lopsided it didn’t close all the way. Perched on top of the bureau was a silver plated mirror in pristine condition, glistening in the low sunlight that was streaming in through a rip in the dirty curtains.

“I’m sure it’s not as elaborate as any new bride would have hoped for, but this was all the best pieces I could find down in the store room.” He gestured to the bureau. “I think I can fix the drawers, I just didn’t have time today before the wedding.”

“You set this all up?” Her eyes fell on the immaculately made bed—by far the best looking piece of furniture in the room, a fact that she hardly believed was irony.

He followed her gaze to the red and white quilt with a four-inch band of white sheet that was rolled over it at the top. “Don’t worry. Mrs. Lewis assured me they were all clean.”

She nodded slowly. “New bedding is quite an expensive wedding gift.”

“Likely our only wedding gift.” Gray removed his shako and put it down almost reverently on the top of the bureau next to the beautiful mirror.

“No. Allison let it slip that she’ll be giving us another.”

Gray shrugged out of his coat and put it over the back of the chair. “Oh? Does Wes know this?”

“Probably.” She felt a grin pulling at the corner of her lips. “I have a feeling he might encourage her to give us more than one of this kind of gift.”

An impish expression came over his face. “And what kind of gift will this be?”

“One that will help make that ugly table just as beautiful as the bed.”

~Chapter Eleven~

“Care to sit?” Gray asked, pulling out a dining chair.

Hesitantly, Michaela took her seat. Only a fool would think sitting at the table was how he planned to spend his wedding night, but she was thankful he wasn’t rushing her to the bed nonetheless. It did give her more time to prepare...or dwell. Yes, dwell on what would happen later was more like it, she realized as she sat down.

“I-I’m not hungry,” she said when he plunked down a white canister in front of her.

“All right. You can watch me eat.” Flashing her a smile, he removed the top of the canister. He pulled the canister over to him and took a deep whiff. “Mmmm. Jerky.” He removed a large piece. “Deer. Wasn’t that your favorite?”

Her mouth watered and she nodded. How on earth did he remember such a detail?

He put the tip in his mouth and tore off a big hunk with his teeth, then ate it, chewing with all the slowness of a snail in a race. He took another bite and her mouth watered again.

By the time he finished the first piece, she could hardly stand it and nearly sighed in relief that her torture would soon be over.

But it wasn’t, he reached in the canister and removed another chunk.

She groaned.

Wordlessly, he began eating that piece, too, laughter alight in his blue-green eyes.

She could resist the temptation no longer and reached for the canister.

“Uh-uh,” he said, sliding the canister closer to himself. “You don’t want any, remember?”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

He laughed, then suddenly his eyes darkened and he sobered. “Hopefully you’ll feel the same way about something else soon.”

She wondered what he meant by that cryptic statement as she withdrew a piece of jerky from the canister. The smell of dried and seasoned deer jerky filled her nostrils, stirring up memories just as delicious as the jerky.

She bit off a hunk and chewed slowly to savor it. Just as good as she remembered it, better even. Gray had always kept a piece or two of jerky in his shirt pocket that he’d pull out and take a bite of every now and then. He’d even given her a piece. Once. She took a deep breath and finished her jerky.

“Would you like more?” Gray held the canister out toward her.

“No, thank you.”

He put the cap back into place and slid the canister off to the side. “The sun’s setting,” he commented as if he were completely oblivious to the suffocating tension that filled the air between them. The intense gleam in his eyes spoke of the expectations he had of her tonight. There was no way to interpret his primal stare as anything but. “Would you like help getting ready for bed?”

Michaela attempted to swallow the large knot that had just formed her in throat, but she couldn’t. She nodded once. It had taken Allison, Ella and Aunt Lucille almost an hour to get her into her dress and all the layers under it, there was no way she’d be able to take it off without help even if she’d wanted to.

Slow and sure, Gray scooted his chair back and came to his feet.

“You looked very beautiful,” he said thickly, helping her stand.

Michaela stilled. Was he nervous, too? No. That was foolish. Just yesterday he’d kissed her with such fluid finesse that would suggest he’d had a multitude of lovers. She pushed the thought from her mind. There was no way she’d ever be able to get through tonight if she kept thinking about that.

Gray tugged at her scarf, offering her a smile.

She relaxed the tight hold she hadn’t realized she’d had on the fabric and allowed him to remove the shimmery, laced fabric. He folded it in half and set it on the table before moving to stand behind her and face the row of buttons that went down the back of her gown. He undid the first, then the second, then the third, taking his time with each. A shiver came over her and she wasn’t sure if she wanted him just to hurry up with it or go even slower.

Finally, he reached the last one, leaving her gown to hang open and expose her corset tapes to him.

She stood, waiting. Would he start on her corset now, or would he remove her plush gown first and look at her thus? She tensed. Did she want him to do that? No.

“Relax,” he whispered in her ear, his lips so close she could practically feel them against the sensitive skin of her ear.

She tensed even more, if that was possible.

Wordlessly, Gray slipped both of his hands into the back of her open gown, bringing them to her shoulders and eliciting those traitorous fiery tingles that always formed when he touched her.

Gently, he rubbed her shoulders, setting her pulse to race. Why his touch did this to her, she’d never understand. His strong fingers continued to rub her shoulders, his thumbs, pushing gently into the muscles in her back. With each caress her body relaxed a fraction. If he didn’t stop, she’d crumple to the floor. She was sure of it.

His movements stopped and he guided the top of her gown to the edge of her shoulders then let it fall. Panic grew in her constricted chest and her muscles tensed once again.

“Cold?” he murmured, then ran his open palms up and down the skin of her bare arms.

If she had been, that would have heated her right up. “No. I’m not cold.”

“Nervous?” he guessed again. At her nod, he placed a soft kiss on her nearly bare shoulder and whispered, “Don’t be.”

A strangled, nervous giggle fought to escape her throat. That was easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one being undressed in preparation to be assessed under his shrewd scrutiny. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, mentally counting to ten. She exhaled, vaguely aware that her hands were clenched into fists at her sides.

Gray slipped loose the multiple ties down the back of her corset then pushed it off of her. She lowered her lashes when it fell to the floor atop her dress that was pooled at her feet. He came to stand in front of her and reached for her hand, leading her to step out of the pile of garments about her ankles. She felt like a trollop standing before him and his intent gaze wearing only her chemise, stockings, and slippers.

Perceptive man that he was, he squeezed her hand and said, “Would you prefer to lie down?”

Michaela licked her lips and nodded, unable to look above his lips. Slowly so not to give away how sick she suddenly felt—for who knows how a man denied might act—she removed her hand from his and gripped the quilt, but he was faster and took the quilt from her.

“Here.” He pulled the quilt and sheet back far enough to allow her just enough room to get in—which she did without delay. “Your stockings.”

She would have groaned had she been able to form any sort of sound. Could he not just get on with it? Must he have to remove everything? Kicking off her slippers, she settled on the bed with her back up against one of the flattened pillows, she bent her knee and reached for the top of her stocking, then started to pull it down.

“Allow me.” He reached around her hand with both of his larger ones, and took hold of the fabric, stilling her. Never had she allowed anyone to do something so intimate as remove her stockings and it felt...different—indecent somehow. His knuckles grazed her calf as he moved the silk down her leg. He released the fabric with his right hand and moved his palm to hold her calf as he pulled the stocking from her foot. He tossed the silk aside and lowered her bare leg to the bed before reaching for the other and divesting her of her remaining stocking just as quickly.

Her heart thudded in her chest. Did he want her to remove her chemise now, or would he be kind enough to allow her to keep it on? He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed and ran his callused right hand up her calf and to her knee, bringing his left hand to the button that rested at the top of his shirt, in the center of the column of his throat. He pushed it free, then moved to the next. Never taking his hand from her skin, the tanned fingers of his other hand moved down to work the next button free. Followed by another and another.

It wasn’t until his shirt was unbuttoned and she glimpsed a swath of his bare skin that she realized she’d just shamelessly watched him! She blushed and half expected him to laugh with an air of arrogance.

But he didn’t; instead, he yanked his shirttails from his trousers, then stood and shrugged out of his shirt, dropping it to the floor into a careless heap.

Heat stole over Michaela. She’d never imagined a man’s naked chest would be so...so...handsome. Her fingers itched to touch the smooth expanse, trace the edges of his muscles and even twist into the curling hair that covered the middle. He leaned forward to remove his stockings with far less care and slowness than he’d expressed when removing hers. When he was done, he straightened to full height and brought his hands to the fastenings of his trousers.

Her heart slammed in her chest and she barely registered that she wasn’t breathing. She took a deep gulp of air. Had she been an innocent virgin she’d likely be anxious to see just what her mother had once referred to as the “male part”, but Michaela wasn’t as innocent as most. Not by her choice. Well, not exactly. She could have fled when she’d first walked up, but fear had kept her paralyzed with her feet rooted to the ground as a group of soldiers took turns unfastening their trousers and taking their pleasure while a woman with a ripped dress screamed and thrashed against the rough hands of the men who held her in place.

Bile surged in her mouth and she slapped a hand over her lips to keep everything contained. She swallowed with an unladylike urp.

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended at your response to me removing my clothing,” Gray teased.

Michaela forced a smile and jerked her gaze up to meet his. “Sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry.” He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed and brought his hands toward her hair. He found a loose tendril and wrapped the dark strands around his finger. “I suppose women don’t enjoy the sight of a naked body as much as we men do.”

She wouldn’t say that. Quite the opposite. He was very attractive with his strong build and rippling muscles that lead to his lean waist. Even what she’d glimpsed of his strong legs when he tied on his sheath hadn’t disappointed her. But neither could she tell him what had caused that reaction.

He released her lock of hair and let it fall, then cupped her face with his hands. She lowered her lashes and watched his parted lips as he moved them closer to her until they were out of sight and touching hers.

Tilting her face up toward him, he kissed her with the same passion he’d shown yesterday. Gentle at first, then adding a hint more pressure, moving his lips on top of and between hers. He touched her lips with his tongue and she gasped. Murmuring her name, he did it again, this time taking advantage of her parted lips and pushing his tongue inside.

All the starch and tension within her dissipated instantly. He slid his hands from her face to her shoulders, then down her sides, and easing her down on the bed. His lips left hers pressing kisses on her cheeks all the way to her jaw. She sighed and impulsively moved to offer him more of her face, but he kept moving. He placed a row of kisses along the bottom edge of her jaw and back toward her ear then pressed a kiss just behind her earlobe. She shuddered and sank her fingers into his thick, black hair.

Without pausing, he trailed his parted lips along her neck, touching every inch of skin she possessed along the way. Sighing, she moved slightly to allow him to reposition himself overtop of her.

He shifted to the side, supporting himself on his left forearm, then reached down toward her waist.

She stiffened, relaxing only marginally when his hand found its place on her thigh instead of yanking up the hem of her chemise. He gave her thigh a slight bit of pressure then guided it off to the side, readjusting himself to lie between her parted legs as he did so, but never once stopping his kisses.

“Sorry,” she murmured, realizing she was on the verge of ripping his hair out. She released her grip and removed her fingers.

“Don’t let go.” His voice was ragged. “You can pull if you wish.”

Michaela lowered her hands back to his head to tangle in his silken hair.

Gray arched up and kissed her lips then rested his forehead against hers and gazed down at her body. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“We don’t have to do this, if you’d rather not,” he offered after a moment.

Her heart skipped a beat. This was the Gray who’d claimed her heart when he’d tried to stop that brutal attack on that woman and after getting hit and kicked, had spotted her and whisked her away from the men and brought her to safety. The same man who’d offered her jerky, then wrapped his arms around her and held her, making her feel safe and protected from the harsh world that she’d never known surrounded her until earlier that night. “Thank you, but you don’t have to stop. I’m just nervous.”

“I understand that, but it’ll be better for you if you’d try to relax.”

A smile pulled at her lips. “I think that’s impossible. I don’t think anyone can try to relax without becoming even tenser when they don’t accomplish their goal.”

“Indeed,” he murmured. “Is there anything I can do to help you relax?”

She bit her lip and averted her eyes. “I—I liked what you were doing,” she whispered.

“Very well. I shall continue.”

Before she could utter so much as a syllable, his lips were back on her skin, searing her with every touch. He slipped his right hand under the hem of her chemise and to the bare skin of her hip. Involuntarily, her muscles contracted at his bold touch. When he moved his thumb, stroking a sensitive patch of skin on her side, she jumped again, this time releasing a gasp simultaneously. He moved his hand along her side, skimming her ribs; then stopped with his thumb settling just under the curve of her breast and his fingers splayed out on her side. Would he go higher and touch her breasts? If he did, would he be gentle?

All thoughts of what he might do to her breasts evaporated when he licked the hollow of her throat and shifted again, this time in a way that pressed the tip of his erection against her delicate flesh. She almost wished she’d gotten a better look at that part of him while he was still standing. Almost. It might be better this way, though, not knowing.

Gray moved up to kiss her lips, the hard length of him probing at her entrance. She shifted, hoping that would give him the angle he needed. He eased inside, stretching her. Her breath hitched. “Stop,” she whispered, grabbing his shoulders—as if her petite hands could possibly hold him.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and ragged. He waited a minute then moved forward again. Just when she thought she might split in two at his invasion, he stopped.

Their breathing was the only sound breaking the silence between them. Hers uneven and strained as she tried to adjust to him; his was labored, a testimony to his strength.

She moved her hips, an unspoken invitation for him to continue. He held still a moment longer, then began to move over her, slow and steady at first, her discomfort easing with each stroke. His pace increased, the friction becoming less uncomfortable and more pleasurable, eliciting the strangest feeling in her abdomen. It was almost as if heat was pooling in her belly and sending sparks flying through the rest of her body.

She arched her back, lifting her hips ever so slightly to meet his thrusts and take him deeper to stoke that fire.

Then with a grunt, the muscles in his shoulders tensed and his movements slowed to a stop.

~Chapter Twelve~

Gray gasped for breath. That was the best experience he’d ever had. Far more exhilarating than meeting his own needs with his hand as he’d done this afternoon to keep from embarrassing himself tonight. And indeed, his planning had been warranted. Had he been any more attracted to her, he’d have spent himself before he’d made it all the way inside.

He dropped a kiss between her closed eyes and withdrew. It was dark out now, and he had only the moon’s light streaming in through the break in the curtains to see. He quickly discarded the sheath he’d worn to protect her from conception then padded around to the other side of the bed and took his place next to her beneath the covers.

He had the strangest urge to move closer to her and lie so close their bodies touched. He’d never imagined he’d have such a pull to her and now had a better understanding of why men sought female comfort.

No. It wasn’t the same at all. Michaela was his wife. He wasn’t paying her. The matters were different entirely. Besides, as far as he knew, men who sought their companionship that way had no interest in lying close afterward. They were there for a quick release, then gone. Nobody would know the workings of brothels better than he.

He shuddered and pushed the thought from his mind.

Gray’s eyes couldn’t have been shut but for a moment, and yet, someone was blowing a horn so loud it just might wake the dead.

“Make it stop,” he grumbled, grabbing his pillow and holding it over his face.

“I take it you’re not one who enjoys mornings,” Michaela said.

Gray yanked the pillow from over his face and tossed it on the floor, scowling. “Normally they don’t bother me, but I spent the night before last in the watchtower and didn’t sleep much yesterday.”

Michaela climbed out of bed, creating an emptiness Gray hadn’t expected. She blushed, presumably at the realization she was standing before him in only her chemise. She gripped the hem and tried to hold it down lower.

Gray chuckled. “I think the fabric has already been cut.”

“I know.” She looked down to the bed and swallowed, then grabbed the sheet and quilt and pulled it back over where she’d just been laying down. “Shall I make you some breakfast?”

“If you’d like.”

She smiled at him in a way that he thought might be less than genuine, then literally shuffled over to the four-shelf rack in the corner of the room. As soon as he was certain she couldn’t see him, he flipped back the sheets to see what had changed her mood so quickly.

Blood.

Dark red.

His gut clenched and he abruptly let go of the quilt. He turned his attention back to Michaela, his eyes colliding on the back of her chemise where there was another bloodstain toward the bottom.

Nausea and disgust swept over him. “On second thought, I’ll just eat downstairs with the men,” he choked out. He swung around and gripped onto the bedpost then forced himself to stand. He tightened his grip on the bedpost. There was supposed to be blood, he knew that. But surely not quite so much. Why hadn’t she said he was hurting her? Did she fear him? She shouldn’t have, he’d offered to stop before it had reached that point. Why had she let him hurt her so badly? Numbly, he found his way to the bureau, refusing to look in her direction.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind cooking.”

“It’s fine.” He winced at the gruffness in his voice. “I’ll eat with my men and you can spend more time with some of the other women.”

“Aunt Lucille?”

“Sure,” he grunted. He jerked his trousers up then reached for his shirt. Had he been so caught up in his own desires he’d been blinded to her pain? He certainly didn’t remember plowing into her the way he knew men often did when joining with a woman. But he must have. Nobody knew better than Gray how degrading and painful the act could be to some women.

He remembered having to remind himself not to touch or kiss certain parts of her, lest she feel she was being demeaned. He’d also thought he’d been gentle with where he had touched and especially careful when he’d joined with her. Apparently not.

Gray pulled on his shirt and without bothering to button it reached for his boots. From the corner of his right eye, he saw Michaela pull a new chemise over her head. A lump grew in his throat. Why hadn’t she said anything? Because she didn’t want to make it worse. He muttered a curse at the small voice in his head that had made such a statement, even though he knew it was true. How many times had one of Mother’s friends commented on the pain and how it was easier just to endure it than to make it worse by inciting the man’s wrath by telling him that he was hurting her. Some men found some perverse pleasure in knowing they were hurting the girl and only became rougher, or others had said that the men would become enraged that she’d complained and would hit her or refuse to pay.

Another sickening reality sank in—not only had he hurt her, he’d forced her. Sure, he was her husband therefore; it was his right to share her bed, but what of her? He’d completely disregarded what she might have wanted. And for what? Because he could? Because he was her husband and she his wife, and legally they were allowed to share intimacies with each other without exchange of money or her losing her respect and honor?

He could hardly stand up straight and sagged against the wall for support. He was no better than any of the men he’d despised so much who’d come to the brothel for a quick release, then went on their way, fulfilled.

The air in the room had either grown too thin to inhale or too thick and was choking him. He had to get out of her presence—soon. Gray looked down at himself.  He was dressed well enough to go outside and not evoke too many questions from the others. He turned his attention to Michaela as she hurriedly tried to redress. He had a fleeting thought to offer to help her. She didn’t need it, however, she’d selected a simple gown with buttons that went up the front. Her hair wasn’t as neatly pinned on top of her head as it had been yesterday, but thankfully it didn’t appear too mussed. She reached in her travel bag and removed a lace hair covering which she promptly put on and tied under her chin, covering the majority of that tempting, auburn hair his fingers had itched to touch.

He jerked his eyes from her, grunting. “Ready?”

“Yes.” She came over to him, and try as he might, he couldn’t force himself to look her in the eyes. She hadn’t deserved such treatment. “Is something wrong?”

Gray started. “No.” He winced and cleared his throat. “No. Just thinking.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’re in deep contemplation.”

“I’m not.”

“I suppose Pa was right then,” she said, something about her tone not right. “He always said most of the men who make a career out of being in the army aren’t the most intelligent men there ever were.”

“Your father retired from the army,” he pointed out, wrenching the door open and waiting for her to walk through.

“I know,” she said with a slight giggle. “But I think he was talking about the ones who join as privates. They don’t have to be strategists. Just do what they’re told without having to think.”

Gray paused. She’d just insulted him and he’d fallen right into the trap. Clever girl. He wasn’t a private now, but they both knew when they’d first met the only position he’d ever dreamed he’d be able to have was to one day be a private. Neither of them had ever expected things to turn out the way they had and for him to become an officer.

“All right.” He drew the words out as he fiddled with the lock on the door. “You want to know what I was thinking about, I’ll tell you.”

“Please do.”

“Last night.”

From the corner of his eye he saw that her face turned a light pink. He rather liked that and for a second he hoped that might be an indication that he hadn’t destroyed every chance of a friendship between them.

~Chapter Thirteen~

The irony of Michaela’s recent increase of time spent communing with God in connection with Gray, which was similar to the same increase she’d witnessed some nine years ago when she’d first met him, was not lost on her. The difference was, nine years ago, she’d prayed he’d notice her and would fall in love with her in a way that would match her feelings for him. Now, she just prayed for him to make sense to her.

One minute, such as last night after they’d gotten married, he seemed interested in her, then when they awoke, he suddenly wasn’t, then once they got outside he was again? So many unanswered questions floated through her mind. What was genuine? Or was he at all? Of course he’d have been interested in her last night. They’d just gotten married and he had...er...expectations. This morning? Well, to be honest, he’d acted almost disgusted with her. Why? Because she was no longer chaste? She almost choked on her laughter. That wasn’t likely. Gray had slept with any number of prostitutes, surely he wouldn’t care that she was no longer untried. She frowned. Perhaps that was the reason. He’d had her once and now he wasn’t interested anymore. Did he only bed the same woman once or did she just not measure up? A sick feeling formed in her stomach and she had the strangest urge to tear her hand from where she held his arm and run. But doing that wouldn’t look good for anyone, and might make her vulnerable in a way that wouldn’t bode well for her in the future.

Which is probably the only reason he seemed to be willing to play besotted husband right now as he escorted her to the Lewises’ house.

“Here you are,” he said as they climbed the steps. “I’ll come by this afternoon to walk you home.”

She nodded once. Allison and Ella had mentioned that most days their husbands came to eat lunch with them when time allowed. Michaela didn’t even have to ask to know that Gray wouldn’t be joining her for the noonday meal. Ever. She released his arm and walked inside, halted by the four curious faces waiting for her in the sitting area.

Michaela swallowed. What was going on? “Is everything all right?” she asked past the cotton that seemed to have grown in her mouth within the past three seconds.

“I don’t know, is it?” Aunt Lucille asked with a wink.

Michaela stared at her. What was she talking about? Her eyes drifted to Sarah Ridgely who still appeared gaunt, but was present, holding a piece of folded silk, the corners of her lips twitching. Michaela’s gaze slid to Allison, humor and intrigue both alight in her eyes. What was wrong with these ladies? Just before Michaela could try to read the expression on her own sister’s face, which should be easy to do considering they’d shared a room for almost twenty years, Ella broke the silence, “How was your night?”

Michaela flushed. Everything suddenly made sense and she flushed again. They were not simply asking how she enjoyed the look of her new room and if she’d had a good night of sleep, they wanted to know about...about... She flushed yet again.

“I’ll take that to mean it went quite well, indeed,” Aunt Lucille said with a chuckle.

“I’m not sure there was ever really any question,” Sarah chimed in. “Gray is known for his experience, I’m sure he took every care to make sure it was enjoyable for you.”

Michaela wasn’t sure what to make of the slightly high pitched tone Sarah used, and wasn’t given time to ponder it when Allison rushed to add, “Not that any of us believe for one moment that Gray will continue his habit of entertaining...” she trailed off, blushing.

Michaela waved her off and took a spot next to Ella on the threadbare settee. She didn’t rightly know if Gray would stop seeking the company of loose women, and wasn’t sure if she even cared. For if she did, then she’d only set herself up for heartache. It had been his lusty desire to visit a prostitute that had crushed her heart before. Fortunately, she wasn’t in love with him anymore so what he did wouldn’t matter. She clenched her fists and repeated those words to herself, it wouldn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. He’d do what he wanted, just like all other men, and she’d have to learn to accept that. She had no claim on him. She’d agreed to marry him to rescue him from a bad situation, and in the bargain she’d get to stay closer to her sister and perhaps have a few children to help fill her heart with the love Gray would never be able to give her.

“Is something wrong, Michaela?” Ella whispered in her ear.

Michaela started and forced herself to look at Ella, releasing her fists. “Just a little overwhelmed.”

The others seemed to accept that, but Ella didn’t. Michaela jerked her attention away from her sister and murmured for Aunt Lucille to pass her sewing materials.

“We’ll talk later,” Ella whispered.

Dread settled in Michaela’s chest, and with a silent prayer that Ella would forget her purpose, she nodded and began sewing.

***

Gray wasn’t sure why he thought he’d be relieved to enter the officers’ office this morning, but discomfort swept over him like one of those heavy spring thunderstorms this part of the country was prone to receiving.

At their desks, sat every single commissioned officer assigned to the fort all staring at him as he walked to his desk. He wasn’t late, he knew that, which could only mean one thing: they’d all gotten here early to see his arrival. Even Jack and Wes. He scowled. His scowl deepened when he caught sight of the slight grin and teasing gleam in Wes’ eyes. Wes’ room was adjacent to his so it was no use in pretending nothing happened. That was one of the more unfavorable things about living in a fort. Walls and floors were paper-thin. Everything, even simple conversations had a way of being overheard. Gray couldn’t count the times he’d been an unwilling audience to hearing other bedroom activities happen when he had to sleep in a room directly below Wes and Allison.

He locked gazes with Wes, a simple warning, reminding the man that anything he might know about Gray, Gray also knew about him.

Wes didn’t look like he cared. And perhaps Gray wouldn’t care who knew what he and his wife did in their bedroom, if not for the crushing guilt that had settled over him this morning when he’d spotted the bloodstain. That was all he needed to sour his mood as he took a seat at the desk he shared with Wes.

“And here I thought you’d be more excited than either of us the morning after our weddings,” Wes said softly.

Gray ignored him. Wes had lied to everyone saying a lady who’d been stranded here was his mail-order bride. Sleeping in the room under theirs, Gray had a hard time believing Wes’ story for a while, but didn’t care to question it. He liked Allison quite well and didn’t wish to embarrass her if she were to find out he’d said anything to Wes about their nighttime activities. Besides it wasn’t his business.

Jack, on the other hand, was a perfect candidate to having had an explosive wedding night. Only...when he’d been exchanging letters with Ella and encouraging her to be in truth his mail-order bride, he’d left off what most would consider crucial details involving his life and where it was that he lived, thus leading her not to be exactly enthusiastic about sharing her body with him. That wasn’t even two weeks ago, and to be frank, Gray still didn’t know if Jack had weaseled his way into her heart and under her skirts. Once again, it wasn’t any of his damn business. Just like it wasn’t anyone else’s concern about his intimate relationship with Michaela. How unfortunate that this place crawled with heathens who didn’t respect that.

He jerked his desk drawer open, garnering a chuckle from a few of the men.

“You do know the blood was supposed to be there,” Wes whispered just above Gray’s ear.

Scowling, Gray dug out what he needed, then slammed the drawer shut. How the blazes had Wes known he’d been concerned about that?

Wes’ soft chuckle pulled Gray from his thoughts. “Considering the types of women you’ve bedded before, I imagine it was alarming. But it’s supposed to be there.”

“I know that,” Gray snapped. He did know there was supposed to be a few drops of virgin’s blood on the sheets, but this wasn’t just a couple of drops. Paying no heed to the curious faces of the other men at the table with him, he started rolling gunpowder and balls of lead into paper to make bullet cartridges.

“I didn’t realize marriage to my daughter was enough to make a man want to do himself in,” General Davis said from behind Gray.

Gray fought his grimace and opened a second box of lead balls. When had he come in? More importantly, why couldn’t the man leave Gray alone? “It’s not her I find so disagreeable,” he murmured, untying the string to another little bag of gunpowder. “It’s the family she comes with. Specifically her father and brother-in-law.”

General Davis chuckled and Jack grinned in his typical jackal-like manner.

“Well, if you don’t want her, I’ll take her,” Lt. Bryce McCorkle said from his seat beside Jack.

Gray jerked his head up to look at the young and foolish boy who’d said that. “I think not. She might come with a few less-than-pleasing family members, but I—” He broke off and swore under his breath. Thankfully he’d caught himself or who knows what he might have revealed about his feelings for Michaela. Not that there was anything to reveal. His feelings for her were more or less those of gratitude for helping him and it was up to him now to protect her.

“You what?” her father goaded, eliciting snickers and chuckles from Wes, Jack and a few of the others.

“I have work to do,” Gray announced. He scooted his chair back, delighting in the way the ends of the legs scraped the floor and made the men wince. Standing, he gathered the supplies he’d retrieved to make bullet cartridges and slipped them into his pockets. Ignoring the stares from the others, he looked right at McCorkle and said, “Michaela is my wife and as I told you the other day, you touch her and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Some might think he was being besotted or paranoid, perhaps, but he’d seen the way McCorkle had looked at her when she’d walked by herself through the fort to find her sister. Gray wasn’t a fool. McCorkle was young and had urges. Urges he’d better not even think about satisfying with Michaela.

“Is he your suspect?” General Davis asked without preamble when Gray had exited his office and had begun walking to where his men were to be assembled for target practice.

Gray halted. “Suspect?”

General Davis nodded.

“You mean for the rape of Soft Dove?”

General Davis nodded again.

Gray nearly laughed at the man, instead, he settled for scoffing. “No.”

“But you just warned him away from your wife,” General Davis said, crossing his arms and giving Gray a pointed look. “And not for the first time I suspect.”

“Indeed. I had to warn him off a few days ago when he was leering at her and following her around, but there’s a difference.”

“Which is?”

“Everything about Michaela screams lady—” a fact which he wouldn’t soon be forgetting after last night— “she was wearing a fancy gown and wandering aimlessly around a fort full of lecherous men. Soaring Eagle’s daughter doesn’t wander aimlessly around anywhere. None of the Indian maidens do. They’re trained hunters and can wield their weapons better than some of the men here can shoot their guns—McCorkle included. He might have the stupidity and brute strength to force himself on a defenseless lady like Michaela, but he doesn’t have the stones to do that to Soft Dove.”

General Davis nodded his acceptance, which under any other circumstances would have made Gray itch to gloat, but he couldn’t. Not with the sickness that was swirling in his stomach. He was just as bad as he’d claimed McCorkle to be, forcing himself on a defenseless young lady for no other reason than because he could. Bitterness filled his mouth again. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to be off to see my men.”

“Not so quick. We need to talk first, young man.”

Gray’s face heated slightly. The last time General Davis had said those exact words he’d proceeded to ask Gray for exact details of what had happened between Gray and Michaela when they’d gone off alone together. “I owe you no explanations,” Gray said between gritted teeth before waiting to hear General Davis’ question.

The general nodded slowly. “No, you don’t. She is your wife now.” The color rising in his cheeks belied his calm, confident tone, giving Gray an undeniable measure of satisfaction. “However, it occurred to me that I might owe you an explanation.”

Oh no. No, he didn’t need to explain anything. Gray shook his head, grunting. “There is no need. As I told you the night you arrived, I know everything I need to about—” he took a deep breath— “things.”

“You probably think you do,” General Davis allowed. “But the kinds of women you’ve associated with before aren’t quite the same as—”

“I know that,” Gray snarled. “As I said, everything about her speaks of her being a high class lady. Never fear, I’ll treat her as such.”

General Davis frowned. “That doesn’t mean you can’t—”

“I have no desire to continue this conversation with you.”

The general’s lips thinned. “Very well. You go on to work and I’ll go sit with the ladies.”

Gray blinked at the strange man, then shrugged. If he wanted to go sit with the ladies, who was he to argue? At least it’d get the man to leave him alone.

***

Michaela had always admired her sister’s determination. Except today. Today it was dratted annoying.

“Michaela, you can tell me if something’s wrong,” Ella whispered as they cut up the food for lunch.

“Nothing is wrong,” Michaela said for the twentieth time. Nothing, that is, except her growing irritation for her sister!

Ella harrumphed and went about slicing a sad-looking tomato. “Are you refusing to say anything because Pa is here?”

Michaela cringed. For some reason unbeknownst to her, their father had decided to come join the ladies this morning, killing all conversation and everyone’s mood with his presence. “No. I’m not telling you because there’s nothing to tell.”

“All right, how about if you nod if I guess right. That way you won’t be breaking any promises or risk Pa hearing?”

Michaela wanted to groan. “There’s no need—”

“Did he see you naked?”

Michaela nearly choked and came within a centimeter of cutting her finger right along with the onion. “No, now stop it.”

Ella frowned. “No?”

Ignoring her sister, Michaela pushed the chopped onion onto a little dish and reached for a little chunk of ham.

“He didn’t take your clothes off?”

Michaela’s face flamed. Did her sister have no decency? Other people—including their father—were in the same room with them, albeit across it, but still!

“Did he take his clothes off?”

Michaela slammed her knife down. “Stop,” she said between clenched teeth.

“Girls, stop fighting,” their father snapped. He was undoubtedly annoyed at having to spend the day with the ladies. He was welcome to leave as far as Michaela was concerned.

Feeling triumphant at least that her father had put a quick end to Ella’s prying, Michaela sent him a thankful smile, then set plates out on the table. She paused. “Who all will be joining us?”

“Wes, Jack and George,” Aunt Lucille said.

Michaela and Ella both looked down at the table, then up to the plates. Not only were there not enough chairs, but there weren’t enough plates for that many people.

“Don’t worry,” Sarah said. “I won’t be staying for lunch, I’m still tired so I think I’ll go lie down for a while.”

“Do you need an escort?” Pa asked, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room.

“I live just across the hall. I’m sure I can manage to get there myself,” Sarah informed him dryly.

Any other man would have had red cheeks at her words, but not Pa, he pursed his lips and nodded once. He’d never been one to take well to having his authority undermined.

Michaela pressed her lips together to suppress a giggle at the exchange.

“Is there anything you’d like to say, Michaela?” Pa asked, extinguishing her mirth in less than a second.

“No, sir.” She turned back to cooking.

“You might get away with not sharing everything with him, but I’m not so easily put off,” Ella whispered.

“Yes, I know,” Michaela muttered. Since when did Ella think she’d become the older sister, bent on ferreting out information? Perhaps it was because she’d married first. As far as Michaela was concerned, that wasn’t a good enough reason. “It would be easier if you’d just accept that I won’t be telling you anything.”

“Aha,” Ella said with a grin. “So something did happen.”

“Leave it alone,” Michaela warned.

Ella pulled back as if she’d been burned. “I was just trying to help.”

Michaela sighed. “I know.” She blew out a breath and shook her head slowly. “But you can’t, so please stop.”

“You don’t know that I can’t help,” Ella said simply. “I might have married two weeks before you did, but there is a reason other than my illness that led to me having only lost my innocence the day you arrived.”

Michaela’s mouth tried to form a reply, but try as she might, she couldn’t; not that it mattered because before allowing enough time for Michaela to ask a probing question like older sisters were wont to do, Ella left to rejoin the others.

A moment later, Michaela was still no closer to finding the right words and reconciled herself to the fact she might never have the chance to ask her sister what she’d meant when Wes, Jack and Uncle George entered the room for lunch.

~Chapter Fourteen~

By the time Gray came to escort her home at the end of the day, Michaela was a bundle of nerves. Ella had been relentless in her pursuit of details regarding Michaela’s wedding night, and Aunt Lucille had been little better. Fortunately Sarah and Allison were polite enough to mask their interest.

Then there was her father...

He’d openly stared at her for most of the day. Sometimes straight on. Sometimes at an angle. When she’d catch his eye, he’d raise a brow in silent question. That was her tipping point. She supposed it was natural for the other women to be interested in how her night with Gray had gone, but why did her father have any interest? She supposed it was just fatherly concern. Gray did have a nasty reputation as a brothel-frequenting skirt chaser, after all. While the women’s interest could only be interest in what it was like to spend a night with such an experienced man, his interest wasn’t the same. The ladies wanted to know about her enjoyment, and he likely wanted to make sure she’d been treated well. She couldn’t fault him that, but still, she had no desire to explain anything to any of them.

Intimacies with Gray were...were...different. Not that she had anything to compare them to. But if she were to be honest, last night hadn’t been quite the image Ella had described her experience to be in hushed tones while Pa napped. Nor was it as unbearable as she’d once heard her mother describe relations to her sister the night before she married. Her experience was somewhere in the middle.

Flushing, she glimpsed the door to their room. Would he expect them to do it again?

“Thinking of something naughty?” Gray teased by her side, a grin splitting his handsome face and his eyes focused just beyond her left shoulder.

“Maybe,” she said with a wobbly smile.

“Well, stop. That’s my role.” He squeezed her arm as he said it, giving her a small measure of hope that things wouldn’t be as uncomfortable between them this evening as they had this morning. “Wes invited us to dine with him and Allison tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not having to cook, how could I possibly argue with that?”

Gray threw his head back and gave a sharp bark of laughter as he opened the door to their room.

Michaela swallowed her unease and walked inside. She should have snuck away during the middle of the day to change the sheets before Gray could see them and be reminded of her unchaste state. She crossed the threshold and froze when her eyes landed on the bed. They’d left it unmade and now it looked pristine. “Did you...”

“A soldier’s bed should always be made—even if he has a wife,” Gray said easily as he shrugged out of his coatee. Then he removed his shako. “Are you ready to go to dinner?”

Michaela stood motionless. Allison had left with Wes at the same time she and Gray had left. There was no way that Allison had already finished cooking a meal for four people. She forced herself to nod. Evidently Gray had no desire to spend time with her alone. “Do you know if my sister will be there?”

“I don’t think so.” He paused. “Did you not get to spend enough time with her today?”

“I did. But—” She shrugged. Though her sister had been a pain in the hindquarters today, she couldn’t help but wonder why Ella hadn’t been the one to offer to invite her to supper first. A thought flashed in her mind that gave Michaela her answer: Ella and Jack would likely be preoccupied with each other tonight. They were newly married, too, after all.

“Is there something you need to talk to her about?”

Michaela started, startled by his question. “No. I just wondered.”

“I understand that Ella is your sister, but you’ll need to make friends with Allison, too,” Gray said softly a moment later. “There aren’t a lot of women here and one day your sister might be gone and it wouldn’t be to your benefit to have alienated any possible friends.”

“Oh, I’d never wish to do that. I like Allison. I just wondered,” she said quickly.

“I know you weren’t trying to exclude her.” He offered her a slight smile. “As you already know, men are transferred to and from forts without much notice. I just think it’d do some good, both for you and Allison, to become as good of friends as you and Ella are.”

“You’re right,” she agreed.

“Besides, there’s only so much of Jack I can tolerate in a day.”

“Oh, he’s not so bad,” Michaela said, giving her husband a playful swat on the shoulder.

Gray let out what had to be an exaggerated groan. “Oh, no. Another Davis girl has been felled by his lack of charm.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous,” Michaela said, flashing him her best smile.

***

“Can I help you with anything, Allison?” Michaela asked after Wes had welcomed them into the room.

“No, that’s all right. You just sit down,” Allison said. She dumped a small scoop of spices into a large bowl in front of her, then grabbed a wooden spoon and started stirring the contents of the bowl as fast as she possibly could. Her face looked pink with a slight sheen of moisture on her forehead and cheeks.

Michaela reached forward and touched Allison’s forearm, stopping her movements. “I apologize that my husband was rude enough to invite us over here on such short notice, at least let me make it up to you by helping.”

A small smile spread Allison’s lips. “I did invite you here—” she bit her bottom lip— “I thought when I told Wes to invite you and Gray over for dinner one night he’d know that I’d need more than fifteen minutes of warning.” She shook her head, her smile growing. “I certainly love that man—even when he frustrates me.” She cleared her throat. “This needs to be mixed and the meat needs to be cut, then dipped in these seasonings—”

“Then put on the pan,” Michaela finished for her, grinning.

Allison sighed. “Sorry, it’s not very hospitable for me to let you help.”

Michaela picked up a knife and started to cut apart the meat. “And what would I have to do if I didn’t help?” She shot a pointed glance to where Wes was lain out on the bed like a cat and Gray sat in a nearby chair with his feet propped up, the two of them just chatting. “It’s not as if I thought they’d include me in their all-too-important conversation.”

Allison chuckled. “They used to share a room, you know. Along with Jack, of course. But I think these two were closer, being of the same age and all.” She shrugged and continued stirring.

Michaela bit her lip and nodded slowly. Was it possible that her husband didn’t like her sister’s husband very well?

“I know what you’re thinking and the answer is no.” Allison paused and frowned. “Or should it be yes?” Shaking her head, she continued. “The three of them like each other very well, if that’s what you’re wondering. When I first came, I had my doubts if they genuinely liked each other or just tolerated the others’ presence, but I think it’s all very genuine. I have no siblings, myself, but I imagine their relationship is similar to what I’ve observed between you and Ella today: you two love each other dearly and sometimes you get along great and other times you’d rather be in just about anyone else’s company.”

Michaela froze. “Were we that obvious?”

Without a hint of hesitation, Allison said, “Oh, yes, you were. About as obvious as—” She broke off and cut her eyes toward the wall adjacent to Jack and Ella’s room.

Michaela nearly choked on her laughter. She hadn’t wanted to draw attention to the quiet, yet still unmistakable, sounds that were coming through the wall. If nothing else, at least Ella had a man who seemed to love her as much as she loved him.

“Sorry, about today,” Michaela said, forcing herself to forget about Ella and concentrate on making supper. “We’ll try to be on our best behavior tomorrow.”

“No need to do that because then I’d have to be on mine,” Allison said with a wink.

Michaela grinned. She’d liked Allison earlier today, but now she had the strangest urge to offer her unreadable husband some sort of praise for arranging this dinner tonight. He was right, she needed friends other than Ella, and though it’d make her sad if she and Ella were separated, she believed it might be possible to become just as close to Allison as she was with her sister.

The two shared inconsequential small talk as they prepared the meal.

“It’ll take a while for all of those beefsteaks and potatoes to cook over such a small fire so we can either sit here and continue our talk or join the men,” Allison offered, wiping her hands on a red hand towel.

What Allison didn’t say was much louder than what she did. Her brown eyes were soft and full of compassion in a way that might suggest that Allison understood the circumstances of their visit tonight better than Michaela originally thought. Blessedly, Michaela knew enough about Allison to know she’d never pry, but it was still nice to know she could come to Allison for advice if she needed to. “Let’s join them, that way they can’t intrude since we’re intruding first.”

Allison grinned at her logic and called Gray over to move the only other chair in the room over by him for Michaela while she settled herself on the edge of her bed close to Wes.

“Smells good, ladies,” Wes commented.

“Hopefully it’ll taste that way,” Allison replied. She tucked a tendril of her brown hair behind her ear. “Actually, I know it should. Michaela tested the spices and added a few.”

“I’m sure it would have been delicious either way,” Wes said, then he turned to face Michaela and moved his lips almost as if he was saying, “Thank you”, but Michaela wasn’t sure.

“I saw that,” Allison nudging him in the side with her elbow. “You have to admit, my cooking is far better than what you’d be served downstairs.”

“Well, if he can’t appreciate your fine fare, I’ll start coming by to have his share and he can go downstairs to claim my ration,” Gray said, making the room suddenly go strangely silent with discomfort. It took a moment, but Gray’s bluish-green eyes suddenly flared wide as he realized his statement, though meant to be charming, hadn’t been seen as such now that he was married to another.

“Don’t mind him,” Wes said in a slightly elevated tone. “He’s just not yet used to being married and now that he’s a husband such compliments should be reserved for only his wife.”

“It’s all right,” Michaela said softly. She tried to make eye contact with Gray to assure him she’d not taken it as anything other than an innocent compliment to his friend, but he seemed to have a formed a sudden fascination with a hangnail. “I’m accustomed to Gray and his...charm.”

“You are?” Wes and Allison asked in unison.

Michaela nodded once. “He used to stay with one of the officers under my father’s command and help the men. He was a charmer even then.”

“I see,” Wes said slowly, a teasing note in his voice. “I hate to inform you of this, Mrs. Montgomery, but you have married a shameless flirt.”

Despite herself, Michaela giggled. “Is he?”

“Yes,” Wes said adamantly. “Why when Allison first arrived, I was introducing them and he immediately started paying her compliments—”

“Until I put him in his place,” Allison added with a grin.

Michaela looked at Gray who twisted his lips into an overdone frown and shrugged his shoulders as if he had no idea what the problem with this was.

“Then when Ella arrived,” Wes continued, “he kept trying to assure her that she had other marital options besides Jack.” He laughed. “I thought the two might have a bout of fisticuffs to see who could take her to the altar.”

“She couldn’t have been swayed,” Michaela stated. “Though she’d never seen fit to actually share his letters with me, I knew she’d been writing him and was quite taken by him. No amount of Gray’s charm was going to change her feelings.”

“And that was for the best,” Gray commented quietly.

Michaela tried to read his expression, but she couldn’t. What was wrong with the insufferable man? Why was he still avoiding her gaze? They weren’t alone.

“I agree. I think she’s quite happy with her choice,” Allison said softly. She looked at Michaela, compassion and perhaps a bit of a question in her eyes. “I think it worked out for the best for everyone.”

“Indeed,” Wes agreed. “Say, you’ve known Gray longer than anyone else here. Anything you’d care to share with us about him?”

“No. He seems to be the same now as he was then: a charmer.” That’s all she wanted to say on it. Speaking further of his past and the extent of his charming would only bring up bad feelings for her and possible resentment or worse, nothing, for him.

“Well, I have a story for you,” Wes said with a chuckle. “When Ella was still sick and Jack didn’t come to work so he could care for her, Gray and I had to take turns taking charge of Jack’s men. There’s one in particular—”

Gray’s loud groan cut off Wes’ words, leading both Wes and Allison to laugh at his discomfort. Michaela’s interest was undeniably piqued by their reactions.

Unfortunately a knock at the door kept her interest from being satisfied.

Gray, being the closest to the door stood and opened it. He greeted Jack and Ella then stepped aside to allow them room to come inside. Gray gestured to the chair he’d vacated and offered it to Ella. Before she could sit down, Jack did then patted his lap and with a slight blush, Ella took her place on his lap. What a wonderful sight they made together. Both of them smiling and carefree, sneaking peeks at the other. Jack placed his large hands on Ella’s abdomen.

“We won’t stay long,” Ella announced, covering Jack’s hands with hers. “We just wanted to see what all the commotion was about.”

“Nothing nearly as interesting as the commotion the two of you were making a bit ago,” Gray said without shame.

Ella’s cheeks pinkened and Michaela shot her an apologetic smile for her husband’s rude statement. It had been quite clear what they’d been over there doing, but he needn’t be so indecent as to mention it to her!

Jack merely grinned at Gray. “I do believe you’re jealous.”

Gray’s expressionless face and silence only confirmed what she’d already believed to be true: Gray didn’t desire her.

“As I was saying,” Wes said when unease had settled over the room, “there’s this fella around here named Private Galworth—”

“I warned you to be careful or he might end your wretched life,” Jack cut in, grinning. “That man can’t shoot.”

“Oh, he can shoot. That’s not a problem for the man. He just can’t aim,” Gray said, grimacing.

“I told you that, too,” Jack said. “I’ve seen the man miss a target two feet in front of him. He can’t hit a thing.”

“Unless it’s me,” Gray muttered. “I’m lucky he didn’t hit anything vital.” He grimaced again and for some reason crossed his legs, making Wes erupt in laughter.

Understanding dawned and Michaela blushed. She hadn’t noticed any bullet wounds on him in that region...but then again, she hadn’t been looking.

“To the good fortune of both me and Galworth, the bullet just grazed the skin on the inside of my thigh. It ruined my trousers, but the wound hasn’t required anything beyond salve.”

“If it gets infected you can always make another trip to visit Dark Moon,” Jack said. “I’m sure he’d be happy for the company.”

“How unfortunate he doesn’t bother to dress appropriately for company,” Gray said, his lips twisting in distaste.

“You mean like Saving Grace?” Jack suggested helpfully.

“Who?” everyone in the room asked at once.

“You know the one who wore the little square over his...” He coughed and lifted his brows as if everyone would magically know what he meant.

“That wasn’t much better,” Gray said, scowling.

“Sounds like the two of you had quite a night,” Ella commented.

“I’d say I’m sorry I missed it, but I’m not,” Wes chimed in. “Someone had to watch the ladies.”

“And if I’d known what awaited me for going, I might have volunteered for your post instead,” Gray said. The solemnness of his tone rocked Michaela to the core. With all of the nervous excitement of their wedding and suddenly becoming a wife, Michaela had been so selfishly caught up in her own feelings, she’d nearly forgotten the circumstances surrounding their sudden nuptials—apparently Gray had not.

“I think it’s time to flip the steaks,” Allison murmured, climbing down from where she sat on the bed.

Michaela went over to the fire to help her friend tend to dinner and called a quick goodbye to Ella and Jack who’d just announced they needed to be going so Ella could start their dinner, too.

The rest of their visit passed much the same way it had begun: with lighthearted conversations and unabashed fun. But under it all, Michaela couldn’t help but wonder what was upsetting Gray. Was he treating her so cold because she was now unchaste, therefore, an imperfect woman, like she’d originally thought, or was he being withdrawn because he felt guilty about marrying her to help himself to a fair trial?

She’d have to ask him. There was no other way about it. She had to know.

At almost ten o’clock Gray and Michaela were back in their eerily quiet room.

Wordlessly, Gray got ready for bed and Michaela did the same. She chanced a glance at him when he turned the blankets down to see what he was wearing: trousers. She bit her lip and turned her attention back to the buttons that went down the front of her gown. Did he plan to remove his trousers or did that mean he wasn’t interested in her? Had he been naked, she’d have had no trouble guessing his intentions, but trousers? Suppressing a sigh, she removed everything except her chemise. She climbed in bed beside her husband and lay still as he rolled onto his side and extinguished the lone candle beside their bed.

“Gray?”

He grunted his response.

She closed her eyes and swallowed. “Never mind.”

~Chapter Fifteen~

The next morning, Gray woke up in the exact position he’d fallen asleep in: on his side, facing away from his wife. It wasn’t a surprise he’d been able to hold his position all night. He’d been sleeping in that exact position for years. First when he’d shared a bed with one of Colonel Jones’ sons, then at West Point and again when he’d been sent to Fort Gibson. The military was always short on beds and it was just part of the life of being a military man: you had to share a bed.

The only difference was now he was sharing a much larger bed with a woman and for as loud as his body was raging for him to do something other than sleep, he couldn’t.

“How do you like your coffee? Simmering or boiling?”

Gray snapped his eyes open to see Michaela wearing a pale green dress and kneeling by the fire, poking it with an iron rod. When had she gotten up? And why hadn’t he heard her? He’d never considered himself a deep sleeper, but he had been extremely tired these past few days, He must have been so tired he hadn’t heard her get up and dress. “You don’t have to make me coffee,” he said, scrubbing his hand over his tired face.

“It’s no trouble.”

He stared at her. Was he imagining things or was there a musical lilt to her voice? “Why are you making me coffee, Michaela?”

She pulled the pot off the fire and poured them each a cup. Coming toward him, she said. “We need to talk.”

His gut clenched. Nothing good ever followed those words. He took the cup of coffee from her and set it down on the bedside table that held one of their only candles, then reached around her for his shirt that was laying over the back of one of their chairs. “Later.”

“No, not later.” She reached toward his hand and yanked his shirt from his grasp, a storm brewing in her green eyes. “Now.”

Gray jerked his shirt back from her grip and put it on. “What do you want?” He hadn’t meant for his voice to come out so harsh, but he wasn’t about to apologize that it had.

“I want to know what’s going on.”

“I’m getting ready to go to work,” he said simply. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his stockings. “Now, if you’d hand me my boots, I could finish getting dressed.”

She didn’t budge. “Why are you being so cold?”

“Cold?”

Michaela crossed her arms and glared at him.

Ignoring her, he reached for his boots.

She moved to block his reach and he pulled back and moved the other hand to reach around her the other way.

She kicked his boots toward the door.

He frowned at her. “Why did you do that?”

“Because you’re being inconsiderate.”

He scoffed. “You refused to hand me my boots, then when I went to reach for them, you block my reach and I’m the one being inconsiderate?”

“Just answer my question and I’ll get you your boots.”

“I can get them myself.” He stood.

She stepped in front of him, stopping him. “Why are you treating me so cruelly? What has upset you so much?”

He froze. “Nothing.”

Now it was her turn to scoff. “I doubt it was nothing. You were very affectionate when we returned here after our wedding, and now you hardly look in my direction.”

“It’s complicated.”

“I knew your situation when we married,” she said softly, lowering her eyes.

His chest constricted. Yes, she did know of the accusations against him when she married him, and he was sure he’d never be able to properly make up to her what she’d done for him. “It isn’t that.”

“Of course not,” she said on a sigh. “You’ve never felt guilty about anything.”

“What was that?” he snapped.

She shook her head and bent to pick up his boots.

He took them from her. “Answer me, Michaela.”

Michaela narrowed her eyes on him and for a moment he thought she’d refuse to explain her earlier words, but she didn’t. “Last night you made the comment that if you’d known the repercussions of going with Jack you’d have volunteered to stay with Ella and Allison and let Wes go in your stead. I thought you were saying that because of General Ridgely’s allegations that you’d raped a young girl that night and your cold treatment of me yesterday was because you felt guilty that you were using me to gain a fair trial. But now I know that it’s not your guilt that’s bothering you.”

“I see,” he said slowly, thinking through what she’d just said. “Michaela, I appreciate your willingness to marry me, I really do. And after this is all over, I intend to make it up to you—whatever you want. If you want to go back East to live near your other sisters, you can. If you want me to buy you a fancy house near a big city, I will. Whatever you want, I’ll get it for you and I’ll still be in your debt.”

“Back East?”

He furrowed his brow. Why did she pinch up her face in a way that would suggest she’d just seen a cockroach crawl out from under his shako? “If that’s where you want to live, I’ll make the arrangements.”

“What of you?”

“I don’t plan to leave Fort Gibson.”

“So you plan to send me away after the trial?”

He blinked. Was that a trick question? “It might take a while to set up the transportation.”

She nodded once. “I see.” Only a fool could miss the small quiver in her bottom lip.

Though Gray wasn’t fool enough to miss it, he also wasn’t fool enough to say anything else, lest he inadvertently upset her further. It was probably for the best that he put on his boots and walk her over to Mrs. Lewis before things could get worse, then he’d come back and finish getting dressed.

He shoved his feet in his boots and quickly tied them. “Let’s go.”

Michaela was to the door before him.

Resisting his urge to sigh, he reached around her and gripped the doorknob before she could twist it open. “I’m sorry if you thought I was unkind to you yesterday,” he said in her ear. “I didn’t mean for my actions to be taken that way.”

She remained silent and he inhaled to keep his nerves steady. Instead, what he got was a strong whiff of her lightly perfumed hair. Lilacs. He closed his eyes and took in another sniff. He couldn’t explain it, but Michaela had always smelled of lilacs and the scent was just as intoxicating now as it had been when they’d first met.

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “I’ll ask my father today if he plans to stay until the trial and if I can ride home with him. That way you won’t have to arrange for any transportation.”

Since when had each of Michaela’s statements become the equivalent to a punch in the gut? “Is that what you want?”

“No,” she said with a sharp, shaky laugh. “But it’ll be the easiest way.”

Gray released his hold on the doorknob and spun Michaela around to face him. It had been the first time following their wedding night that he’d been able to look at her without waves of shame crashing over him. “If you don’t want to go back with your father you don’t have to.” He twisted his lips, trying to find the right words for what he wanted to say. “You’re free to go wherever you wish. I won’t keep you here, but you don’t have to go with him, either.”

She lowered her head and nodded, and then without warning the door opened behind her. “Let’s go.”

Gray stood frozen as she took a step backward across the threshold. And this was why he’d never really wanted a wife. No matter what he’d said to the contrary when teasing Jack or Wes or trying to ‘steal’ Allison and Ella, he had no intentions of marrying. He’d spent more than enough of his life surrounded by females and he still didn’t understand them. Willingly marrying one was only asking for trouble.

He forced himself to leave the room and not call her back. He pulled the wooden door closed and jammed the key in the lock. He waited to hear the soft click of the lock, but grimaced instead when he heard another sound: a sniffle.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled the key out of the lock and turned to face his wife. “What are you crying about?”

He expected her to say, ‘Nothing.’ The very word he’d heard one of the prostitutes say to the others when they were clearly upset but didn’t wish to talk about it without a bit of prodding, sympathy, and begging first.

But Michaela was full of surprises! A fact he should have already known.

“You are such a self-righteous philanderer. It’s fine that you’ve poked everything in a skirt, but now that you’ve taken me to bed, you want nothing to do with me,” she said in a razor-sharp tone, jabbing her finger in the center of his chest. “Need I remind you, sir, that you’re the one who took my virginity and if anyone should be ashamed of their overabundance of knowledge in the bedroom, it ought to be you.” She shook her head with such vigor two tendrils of her auburn hair fell loose around her face. “But it’s never shameful for the man, is it? He can sow all the oats and seeds he wants and nobody bats an eye.” She swiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks. “It’s the woman who bears all the shame. Only I’m not some soiled dove you can climb out of bed with, pay, and never see again. Instead I’m a wife, who must be ‘dealt’ with and you’ve decided that means that after the trial I need to be sent away because I’m useless to you here. You’ll have had your trial and a bit of fun. There won’t be any reason left for you to keep me here.”

Shock, pain, mortification, and uncertainty all swirled through Gray like a windstorm. “What the hell are you talking about?” he blurted, unable to form a more eloquent wording.

Michaela crossed her arms. “I just told you. You’re a—”

“Self-righteous philanderer, I heard that part. It was the rest I’m unclear on.”

Michaela threw her hands in the air. “I don’t see how I could have been clearer. Not that it matters. I just find it unfathomable that you’re pretending that sending me away is some sort of peace offering for my marrying you to ensure you get a fair trial when it’s clear the real reason is that I’m of no use to you any longer. You’ll get your fair trial and you got a guilt-free and seemingly inexpensive night of pleasure.”

Gray’s face warmed. He didn’t know which of her misconceptions was worse. Not to mention they were outside arguing about this where anyone might see or hear them. He considered trying to convince her to go back into their room, but knew it would be fruitless. “Michaela, if you don’t want to leave after the trial, you don’t have to. I’m not trying to get rid of you.” He leaned his right shoulder against the wall, forcing her to look at him directly. “You didn’t come here with the intention of getting married. I know that. I also know that this isn’t the most sought after fort for an officer’s wife. It’s desolate and dangerous. I don’t want to force you to stay, but I’m not forcing you to leave, either.”

Her face softened a fraction. “And the other?”

He knit his brows. “Are you speaking of my interest in bedding you again?”

She dropped her eyes in response.

“That won’t be happening again,” he said with a hard swallow.

Fire flashed in her green eyes. “Why because you don’t bed the same woman more than once?”

“I haven’t, no,” he said with a hint of a smile.

“Oh, so then it’s because I’m not experienced enough for your liking.”

He sobered. “I never said that.”

“It cannot possibly be because I’m no longer chaste.”

“It has nothing to do with that, either.”

“Then what is it about me that repulses you so?” she burst out, throwing her hands into the air in a gesture of defeat.

“You don’t repulse me. Quite the opposite, if you must know.” He ignored the way another round of heat crawled up his face at his admission and prayed she wouldn’t comment on it. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

“I don’t understand. On our wedding night you were all...all...eager and now you can hardly abide to look at me.”

A lead weight hit him right in the gut. “I know,” he wheezed. “It was wrong of me to put my own desires before you and I’m so very sorry. It won’t happen again.”

She frowned. “I never said it was a travesty that I didn’t wish to repeat.”

“You didn’t have to. I should have controlled myself better. Once again, I’m very sorry. I won’t dishonor you again.”

“You’re my husband, you can’t dishonor me,” she said tonelessly.

“Yes, I can and I did.”

Her brows knit. “How?”

“Because I don’t love you.” As soon as those five words had escaped his lips, he wished dearly he could take them back.

He didn’t know what reaction he was expecting from her, but once again it wasn’t the one he received: her eyes flared wide and she let out a bit of a squeak, then ran the other way down the board plank and toward the stairs.

It wasn’t until a moment later that he knew what had caused such a strong reaction when a heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder and General Davis said, “Perhaps you should keep your words of romance, or lack thereof, for the bedroom.”

~Chapter Sixteen~

“Michaela! Wait!”

Michaela kept running. She could hardly see through the hair that had fallen in her face, but she wouldn’t stop. It was only reasonable to expect that Gray would catch up to her. But if he didn’t then she could at least hold onto some shred of dignity.

She hadn’t expected him to declare some sort of love for her after being married only two days. Neither did she expect him to just so carelessly tell her he didn’t. And certainly not in front of her father! Which only made things that much worse. How long had he been standing there listening to their private conversation?

Of course it wasn’t that private because they were outside! One more of her many mortifying mistakes of the morning. She wanted nothing more than to forget it all and if she could get to Aunt Lucille’s without either of them catching her, she’d have a chance. At least for a while, and right now she’d take that much of a reprieve.

Gasping for breath, Michaela stumbled up the steps to Aunt Lucille’s cabin and without knocking, flew inside, then slammed the door and leaned against it.

“Something wrong, dear?”

Breathlessly, Michaela shook her head then blew her hair away from in front of her face.

“Michaela, let me in,” Gray called, pounding on the door.

Michaela stiffened and pressed her full weight against the door.

“You can’t hold me out.” He wiggled the doorknob to emphasize his point and Michaela shot a pleading glance to Aunt Lucille.

Aunt Lucille stood and shooed Michaela away from the door, then jerked it open. “I sure hope you didn’t intend to insinuate you had no problem barging into my home without so much as knocking first.”

Michaela stifled a giggle. Leave it to Aunt Lucille to be so direct.

“I need to speak to Michaela,” Gray panted, trying to push his way into the room.

“No.”

The room went still. Never had Michaela witnessed Aunt Lucille use such a cool, dismissive tone.

“Mrs. Lewis, I’d like to speak to Michaela, please.”

Aunt Lucille clucked her tongue. “We make our own wardrobes around here, Captain. Which means that from time to time it isn’t decent for a man to enter. Like right now.”

Gray grumbled something about not believing her, but retreated.

Aunt Lucille closed the door behind him. “Care to tell me what that was about?”

“I’d rather not.”

“This is a small fort, dear. News of this will travel faster than you might like.”

Michaela already knew that. She suspected by dinner tonight everyone who lived here would know some sort of fact about the trouble brewing between the Montgomerys. All she could do now was pray it would all go away soon.

“Good to see you’re still exercising your lungs,” Ella said to Michaela as she and Allison breezed into Aunt Lucille’s home.

“I had a wonderful run, thank you,” she said airily, trying in vain to keep a straight face.

“Amid other things,” Ella muttered. She took her seat on the settee and reached for her sewing basket. “What exactly did you say to the man?”

Michaela retrieved the fabric she’d begun sewing yesterday. It wasn’t anything grand, just an apron. Now that she was a wife and would be cooking her own meals, she’d need it. If Gray could ever stomach having a meal with her, that is. She frowned. He really must not like her.

“Michaela?”

She started. “Ella?”

“Would you like to talk about it? In nice, hushed tones, of course.”

Michaela pushed her needle through the dark blue fabric. “No. If you heard me earlier, then there isn’t anything else to say.”

“I just heard your voice, I couldn’t make out what all you were saying.”

Michaela exhaled. “That’s for the best. It was a private matter and it was my lapse of judgment that allowed it to become public. I apologize if I ruined your morning.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Michaela. That monotone voice and inane statement might fool some, but not me. If you’ll only tell me what the problem is, I promise to help you.”

Michaela swallowed. It wasn’t that she was afraid her sister would mock her for her troubles or go tell others. It was more a matter of pride. Michaela was the older sister. She was supposed to be the one more experienced and giving advice. Besides, Ella’s husband was clearly in love with her. There was no way she’d understand Michaela’s predicament.

“Thank you for offering, Ella, but there isn’t any advice you can give me.”

“Are you sure?” The genuine concern in her eyes was unmistakable, prompting Michaela to reach over and squeeze her sister’s forearm.

“I’m sure.”

The four of them went into the happy harmony of sewing in companionable silence broken a while later when Sarah came in to join them. She looked tired again today, likely from whatever illness she was mending from.

Aunt Lucille offered to let her lie down in her bed, but she declined, saying the sunlight would be good for her.

A knock at the door an hour later made a shiver of unease skate down Michaela’s spine. Would it be Gray requesting to speak to her again, or worse, her father? There was no way she could stand setting eyes on him after he’d borne witness to her argument with Gray.

“Why don’t we go start cutting up the ingredients for lunch,” Allison said softly.

Grateful for the distraction, Michaela didn’t argue that it was too early to even be thinking about lunch.

“I don’t know how to tell you this other than to just tell you,” Allison blurted in a soft whisper when they’d reached the worktable. “Ella might not have heard your conversation with Gray this morning, but I did.”

Michaela’s pulse raced as she stood numb and waited for Allison to continue.

“I wasn’t trying to listen, but you two were standing right in front of my room and well...as you know things carry.” She flushed. “I won’t tell anyone, but I wanted to let you know that sometimes what Gray says and what he actually means by it are two different things.”

“I didn’t run off because he said he doesn’t love me. I know he doesn’t and I didn’t expect that he did.” Sighing, she picked up a wooden spoon and idly tapped it against the palm of her free hand. “I know that sometimes Gray’s words come out wrong. I realized that when he explained what he’d meant about sending me away after the trial.” She tossed the spoon on the table with a soft thud. “And I fear once I give him the chance to explain his disinterest in bedding me, I’ll be the one embarrassed.”

“You owe him the chance to at least explain,” Allison said softly.

“I know. But not when other people—” particularly her father or Aunt Lucille— “are within earshot.”

“No, probably not,” Allison agreed. “But do I have your promise that you’ll hear him out? No matter what?”

Michaela narrowed her eyes. “Just whose side are you on?” she demanded in mock indignation.

“Yours, of course.”

“Are you sure, you seem to be defending him an awful lot.”

Allison shrugged. “Only because I think the two of you are a perfect match for each other.”

***

Gray half-listened to the men as they ate their mid-day meal. He should be more interested in what the men were saying, but for a reason he couldn’t place, or more precisely didn’t want to place, he could hardly hear them over the chaos going on in his own head surrounding his most recent argument with Michaela.

With a grunt he thrust thoughts of her from his head while simultaneously pushing away the crusty bread and half-baked beans that were on the plate in front of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, and yet, he didn’t feel the least bit hungry.

Around him, conversation swirled. Talk of guns, crops, horseflesh, and even ‘back home’, seemed to always be the main points of conversation among the men as each tried to make their place here while still longing to be anywhere else.

Gray shook his head. To him, there wasn’t anywhere else better to be than stationed at a fort, no matter how desolate. Not that he had anywhere else to be.

He shoved to his feet. There was still thirty minutes left before they had to be back in formation. Plenty of time to go find his wife and straighten things out with her.

“Headed somewhere, Gray?”

Gray stopped mid-stride and cast a glance over to the man who’d said something to him. At no less than four marks above six feet, silver-shocked hair, a lean, impassive face that matched the cut of his body, Private Aaron Jacobs was enough to scare any man witless if he wanted to. His cat-like tendencies of sneaking up on people and catching them unawares didn’t help. Nor did the way he addressed everyone, including his superiors, informally and nobody said a word about it.

“Private Jacobs?” Gray said, nodding in the man’s direction.

“I need to talk to you.”

Gray sighed. Anytime any of the men wished to speak to him it was to try to get him to change his mind about an assignment. If Gray had heard correctly Private Jacobs had recently been assigned to help with building the new barracks that had been started last year. A taxing and dangerous job nobody would want to be assigned to. Gray could sympathize with the man, truly he could, especially in light of his newest circumstances of being threatened with seven years of the same sort of hard labor. But that didn’t mean Gray could get this man’s orders changed and quite honestly was surprised a man as strong and confident as Jacobs would even lower himself enough to ask.

“I have something I need to take care of right now, perhaps later.”

The man’s expression didn’t change at all at Gray’s statement, just as Gray hadn’t expected it would. “Yes, sir.”

Taking a deep breath, Gray continued his walk toward the Lewises’ cabin. He stilled as laughter rung out from inside. He immediately recognized Mrs. Lewis’ infectious giggles and had come to recognize Allison’s bubbly laughter. He hadn’t spent enough time around either Ella or Michaela yet to recognize their laughter, but he was sure at least one, if not both, had found something humorous. His heart hammered against his ribs. Now might not be the best time to approach her. She was likely having a good time and his presence would only ruin it. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides. He needed to speak to her. Now. There wasn’t any shortage of time she’d be allowed to spend with her friends. There was, however, a shortage to his temper and nerves and he’d do best to talk to her now before things had a chance to become worse between them.

Hardening his resolve, he lifted a fist and was posed to knock on the door, when a soft bang behind him caught his attention.

He spun around on his heel, but nobody and nothing was there except the door to the Ridgely’s. He furrowed his brows. How odd. He was sure he’d heard a noise that very well could have been the door closing, but hadn’t heard any boots on the boardwalk. His skin prickled. Something wasn’t right.

Gray pulled his pistol from its holster and cocked the trigger. Holding it in front of him, he reached for the doorknob. Even if it was locked, he could get in if he needed to. This fort had flooded enough in recent years that most of the wood was weak with rot.

Slowly, he turned the unlocked knob and released the latch, then let go of the knob and pushed the door the rest of the way open with his fingertips. At first glance, he didn’t see anyone and let himself in, making sure to walk carefully and never turning his back to an area he hadn’t yet determined as clear.

At a moment like this, it was a blessing the living quarters at Fort Gibson were small and simple, lacking any real hiding places. Deeming the seating area clear of intruders, he pivoted and used his foot to kick closed the door to allow him better access to the kitchen and sleeping areas.

As soon as he did, he froze—whether from the sight before his eyes or the deafening scream that rent the air when his eyes fell upon Mrs. Ridgely’s naked form, he’d never know.

~Chapter Seventeen~

All laughter and enjoyment Michaela had feigned for the benefit of her lunch companions ended in time with a shrill scream that could only have come from Mrs. Ridgely, the only female resident who wasn’t at the table. She’d gone home right before lunch again, claiming a female complaint.

Faster than her pa’s pistol could fire, everyone jumped from their seats at the table.

“Allison, grab George’s gun,” Aunt Lucille said. She pointed to the rifle hanging above the fireplace.

Allison did as she was bade.

“Good. Now, hand it to me.”

“Are you going to shoot someone?” Allison asked inanely.

“If someone comes in here and tries to hurt one of you, yes.”

“Do you even know how to shoot it?” Allison asked.

Aunt Lucille shrugged. “Just point it at the man and pull the lever. I think I can handle that.”

“Perhaps, I should take that,” Ella said.

Michaela nearly groaned. Neither she nor Ella had ever touched a gun.

“Jack showed me how to shoot his pistol,” Ella said by way of explanation. “It’s not quite the same, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Indeed,” Michaela murmured, pressing herself against the wall.

The commanding officers cabins were a fair distance from the barracks and surrounded by nothing but open field. Michaela wasn’t certain if that made her feel comforted or more afraid.

A loud crashing noise, followed by male shouts and two gunshots filled the air.

When she heard the boom of her father’s voice, Michaela relaxed. But only for a moment. Gray was yelling something, too. Unsure his role in this or why he’d be yelling at her father who’d just told someone to take someone away, Michaela walked to the door and opened it a crack. She gasped and opened it further, not sure she’d seen everything correctly.

Gray’s face was covered in blood and he was bound in handcuffs with a pistol pointing into his back, held by a strange man about Gray’s height and build, urging him to walk forward. Gray jerked, catching her eyes.

His face fell. “Michaela, it’s not what they say.”

“What’s not?”

“Shut up and walk, Montgomery,” the man behind him said, hitting Gray in the back with the butt of his gun.

Gray winced in pain and walked forward.

Confused, Michaela scrambled across the hall and into the Ridgely’s home where General Ridgely was shouting something about rape and killing someone, Gray, if Michaela had to venture a guess.

Michaela walked over to where Sarah was sitting on her bed, huddled beneath a blanket. She sat down beside her new friend. “Sarah, what’s going on?”

Sarah didn’t seem to notice her as she watched her husband storm around their house like a madman.

“Clam down and tell us what happened, Amos,” Pa said, coming to stand next to Uncle George and two other officers Michaela didn’t recognize.

“That bastard was forcing himself on my wife!” General Ridgely roared. He thrust his open hand in Sarah’s direction as if nobody knew who his wife was. “Even if we cannot find proper evidence to support he accosted that Indian girl, he will face charges for this.”

All eyes went to Sarah.

“No, he won’t,” Mrs. Ridgely said softly, pulling her blanket tighter around herself and staring wide-eyed across the room at nothing in particular.

“I don’t care what your relationship is with his wife, Sarah. He will pay for what he’s done.”

Sarah lifted her chin a notch. “And if he hasn’t done anything wrong?”

“Are you saying you willingly took your clothes off for him?” her husband demanded, piercing his wife with his gaze.

“Well, no,” she said with a blush.

“As I said, he planned to force her.” He gestured to the pistol on the ground. “He was holding that—loaded.”

Everyone turned back to face Sarah who was now trembling. Michaela instinctively wrapped her arm around her. “Sarah?”

Sarah shook off Michaela’s hold and stood. “You will not be bringing charges against him.”

General Ridgely crossed his arms over his chest, only making him look more like a statue than he had before. “Is he your lover, Sarah? Coming by for an afternoon tumble?”

Michaela’s stomach clenched in crippling pain, the air bursting from her lungs in a fierce whoosh. Was this how her mother had felt when she’d first learned of Pa’s lover?

“Perhaps he is,” Sarah said with a careless lift of her left shoulder. “You’ll have your answer soon enough, I expect.”

Something sharp and predatory crossed General Ridgely’s chiseled face. “Release him,” the general barked, walking from the room without a glance to anyone.

A part of Michaela longed to stay and ask for an explanation from Sarah, but a bigger piece propelled her to seek out Gray first, and heedless to what anyone else had to say about it, she followed General Ridgely out the door and straight in the direction of the stockade.

***

Gray let out a small grunt of pain and braced himself for the next round of blows Lieutenant Jefferson was about to deliver.

Biff, bam, foosh... Jefferson’s fists pummeled Gray’s abdomen over and over as he stood chained to the wall, defenseless.

“That will be enough of that,” came a crisp female voice.

Gray snapped his head up. “Go away,” he choked. She didn’t need to stand there and witness him being beaten to death.

“I need to speak to my husband,” she said to Jefferson.

“He’s unable to talk just now,” Jefferson said, delivering another blow to Gray’s midsection.

“I demand you stop right now or—” The rest of her words were cut off by the blood pounding in Gray’s ears and the awful pain zinging through his body.

Once he’d caught his breath, Gray looked up and scowled. That fool was letting Michaela into his cell with him.

“Don’t you hurt her,” he warned Jefferson.

“Or what?” the younger man taunted, punching his meaty fist into his palm.

“You’ve been relieved of your duty, Lieutenant,” Jack said, grabbing the man by the back of his coatee and throwing him to the ground with little effort. He placed a boot on his chest then leaned down to remove the keys from his pocket and tossed them to Michaela.

Gray would have shaken his head if he didn’t think it would hurt to do so. He’d never realized how strong Jack was until the two of them had scuffled last week. Jack had certainly proven himself that night.

“Is now a good time to finish our talk from earlier?”

Gray started to laugh at her question, but grimaced in pain instead.

Wordlessly, she walked over to where his right wrist was cuffed to the wall and unlocked the restraint then just as calmly, she walked over to the other side and did the same before turning her attention down toward his feet where two seventeen pound balls were cuffed to each of his ankles.

“I think I’ll leave those on for now,” she said with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. He wondered why that was. Did she fear he was seriously hurt or had she heard the latest accusations leveled against him and was upset? He thrust the thought from his mind. Why should he care so much about her opinion of him? She was the one who’d run off from him earlier without giving him a chance to explain himself, then having Mrs. Lewis make up some nonsense about someone being indisposed.

“Perhaps you need a set, too,” he said tonelessly. “That way you can’t run when you hear something you don’t like.”

She let out a sharp breath. “I didn’t run because— Never mind that now. We’ll talk about that when we get home.” She lowered her lashes and swallowed. “And can close the door.” Her voice returned to normal. “What happened today with Sarah Ridgely, Gray?”

“Nothing.”

“All right.” The way she drew those two words out made him want to squirm. She had a way of doing that, he was swiftly learning. “Why did she scream?”

He sighed. “I scared her.”

“How?”

Apparently she expected the whole sordid tale. “Can I explain everything later when I’m not on public display?”

She frowned and threw a glance over her shoulder. “I don’t see you in the stocks.”

“That’s because they were already filled with drunkards,” he said with a scowl.

She crossed her arms and lifted an eyebrow at him.

“I was outside the Lewises’ front door and I heard a noise coming from the Ridgelys’. I’d just seen General Ridgely a few minutes earlier, having lunch in the Officer’s Lounge so I knew he wasn’t there and I assumed Mrs. Ridgely was in there having lunch with the other ladies like she always does.”

“So you decided to go investigate?” There wasn’t a hint of condemnation in her voice, only uncertainty.

“Yes. The noise it...it was like someone had just opened and closed the door right behind me. As I said, I had a logical reason to believe that both of them were out of their home and thought to investigate to see who’d let himself in their home.”

“And your gun?”

“A man cannot go into some place where he suspects a criminal to be without having a weapon, Michaela.”

“Why were you—”

“Because he might get shot,” Gray said as if he were speaking to a three year old. “Only a fool would—”

She silenced him with a slender finger against his lips. “I’m not completely dimwitted, Gray. I was asking why you were over at the Lewises’.”

He licked his bloodied lips, the taste of iron filling his mouth. “I’d come to talk to you again at a time I knew nobody would be indisposed.” He inwardly cringed. “I had no idea I was about to happen upon someone who truly was.”

Something flickered in Michaela’s green eyes. Before he had a chance to determine what it was, she leaned down and unlocked the iron shackles around his feet. “Let’s go home.”

~Chapter Eighteen~

If ever tension had been high between Gray and Michaela, it was nothing compared to the atmosphere between them when they returned to their room from the stockade.

“Do you need help with your coat?”

“I think I’ll leave it on,” Gray said, his jaw tight.

“You need to take it off so I can see your wounds,” Michaela argued.

Gray let out a strangled groan. “You don’t need to fuss over me.”

“I’m not fussing.” She grabbed the pitcher and basin off the shelf in the corner. “I don’t wish to be left a widow out here. Or worse, have to steal away to go see a naked Indian in the night in hopes he has a miracle cure for a wound you’re too stubborn to expose.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his sore lips. “All right. Come help me. But then we need to talk.”

“Believe me, I have no desire to leave this room until we’ve both shown our hands, so to speak.” She walked over to him and carefully helped him peel his tattered and stained coatee off. She set it on the bed then willed her hands to be steady and gentle as she went to work on the buttons of his shirt. When she reached the bottom and spread the fabric aside, a small, involuntary gasp lodged in her throat.

Several fresh bruises were forming and several bumps—ribs most likely—were poking out against the skin just above his waist in the most unnatural way. “You’re really hurt.”

“Yes, I am,” he agreed quietly.

She eased him backwards. “Sit on the bed, while I gather supplies.” She picked up the water pitcher and poured some in a glass for him to drink, then put the rest into the basin. “Do we have any fresh linen?” She already knew they did, but wanted to keep him talking to her. Especially now that he was closing his eyes and his face looked whiter than it had been earlier.

“On the shelf,” he mumbled.

Michaela took down a folded sheet and began ripping it into strips. When she had about four good sections torn off, she put one of the strips in the water and carried the basin over to him.

She set the pitcher down on the bed beside him and removed one of the water-saturated strips and lightly squeezed some of the clear liquid out of it, then folded it over a few times. “This might be cool.” She pressed the cloth against the gash above his eye, noting how he winced. She pulled her hand back and cringed. She’d hoped all the blood on his face had been deceiving, but it hadn’t been. Carefully, she wiped all the drying blood away from around his eye then moved to his swollen nose, lips, and chin.

Fear of hurting him worse kept her from squeezing his nose to see if it was broken. Not that there was anything she could really do for him if it was. She continued cleaning off his face with the fabric, the once clear water in the bowl now tainted with a red hue.

“Is there a medic stationed out here?” she asked him.

He nodded. “Please don’t.”

She stilled and looked down to where she held the fabric of his shirt, posed to remove it. “I need to see your injuries.”

“Not that. Don’t send for the medic. I’ll be better off without him.”

“You need stitches,” Michaela explained as she took extra care in removing his shirt. If it were possible, in the amount of time it had taken her to clean the blood off Gray’s face, more bruises had developed.

“I’ll heal without them,” he said with a grunt.

She doubted that but didn’t wish to argue with him right now. When she’d stripped off his shirt, she set it aside and helped him lie down and get comfortable.

Her biggest concern had to be his ribs. Even lying down the ones on his bottom left side protruded.

Tentatively, she touched them. “Does this hurt?”

He sucked in a sharp breath then practically doubled over.

“I’m sorry,” she gushed, yanking her hand back to the safety of her chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” he gasped.

“Here, lift your head and I’ll adjust your pillow.” She righted his pillow under his head, then grabbed hers and put it under his head, too. ‘An injured man can never have too many pillows,’ Pa used to say when making a visit to the infirmary. “How’s that?”

“Good.”

Her eyes drifted back to his ribs and she swallowed uncomfortably. Even lying down they looked painful. She reached hesitant fingers to the fastenings of his waistband and loosened it to give him a bit more breathing room and a little less pressure on his abdomen.

“Thank you,” he rasped.

She had the oddest urge to kiss his bruised cheek.

He idly patted the bed next to him. “Sit. We’ll talk.”

Michaela smoothed her skirts. “Are you sure? Perhaps you should rest now and we’ll talk later.”

“No,” he said, not bothering to open his eyes which were so swollen she doubted he could open them very far anyway. “We’ll talk now—even if I have to hold you down to do it.”

“Yes, because you look like you have the strength and stealth to do that very thing,” she teased.

He opened one eye a sliver. “Don’t test me.”

Shaking her head, she walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down next to him. If he wished to talk, she’d listen, but now wasn’t the time to argue.

“I didn’t mean it how it came out. Earlier,” he clarified. “This morning.”

Michaela’s face heated and she moved to sit with her back against the wall and her legs out in front of her on the bed, parallel to his body. She lowered her hand to his head and idly combed her fingers through his thick, black hair. “I know.”

He opened his eyes and looked up at her. “You do?”

She sighed. “We’ve been married for less than two days, I didn’t expect that you’d have suddenly fallen in love with me.”

“So you ran because of your father?”

She momentarily stilled her fingers. “I didn’t hear him coming up the stairs, then suddenly he was there lurking in the corner behind you and it suddenly occurred to me that everything I’d said to you, I’d said outside where anyone could see or hear us—including him.”

“I spoke to him about sneaking up on people and he claimed he was there the whole time.” He groaned and shifted positions a little. “You do understand that even if I knew he’d been there or we’d have had our discussion inside, it wouldn’t have changed things between us?”

“I think so.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” He grimaced and grunted and groaned and moved into a seated position next to her. He reached across his abdomen and placed his hand on his ribs. “His presence here doesn’t bother me.” He frowned a little. “Actually, it does, but not in that way. Regardless of you being his daughter, you are my wife...” He trailed off, a silent plea of understanding in his eyes.

“But you don’t really see me that way,” she said softly.

“No, I see you that way,” he corrected, letting his eyes fall to her chest briefly.

Tingles ran up her spine. “But you don’t love me,” she tried again, silently congratulating herself on her voice only wavering a little during that entire statement.

He groaned and raked his hands through his hair. “I don’t know how to explain this.”

“I don’t think there is anything else to explain.” She prayed he didn’t contradict her. It was embarrassing enough that this had somehow all seemed to take a turn where it appeared she was the one who wanted intimacies all the time. That wasn’t it. Not really. She did enjoy them well enough, but she didn’t need them. It was more a thing of pride mixed with duty, she supposed. How was she supposed to keep her husband happy and content if he had no interest in her that way?

“No, I need to explain.” He let out a breath that sounded almost akin to a sigh of defeat. “My mother was a prostitute.”

Michaela wasn’t sure which broke her heart more: the shock of his words or the way he’d lowered his lashes and bent his head almost as if he were ashamed to admit such a fact aloud.

“Up until we met at McHenry, I’d lived in a room at a brothel in the city. Every night men would come in, select a scarcely dressed woman they liked, then use her for their pleasure. There was no love and certainly not much enjoyment on the woman’s side of things. Just business. Coins in exchange for pleasure. No different than going to a play or opera, really. The only difference was that usually there was only one performer and one patron who’d become a performer and in the end they both won: one got pleasure, one got money. I didn’t know or understand any different, just thought this was just the way the world worked and didn’t ask questions.

“While some women truly saw their lives as just a job and a way of being, others didn’t. Some of the men hurt the women. Sometimes physically, sometimes emotionally. As a boy, I was just told my mother was ‘entertaining a gentleman’. But when I got older, I noticed bruises, or would hear screams or cries.” His pale face grew dark with a haunted shadow. “That didn’t sound like any sort of ‘entertainment’ to me.”

A sob formed in Michaela’s chest at his words. “Oh, Gray,” she choked.

“By the time I was old enough to understand what happened between the women and the men who came each night, I had no interest in the act. No matter how much my body demanded I do something to fulfill the feelings, even just the sight of a woman filled me with, I couldn’t. Women at brothels, no matter how much they deny it, have feelings and lives, too. They might grow to act numb to their work, but that’s just it: it’s just an act. There is no respect or security, no promise of anything past a few coins in exchange for their dignity and possibly well-being.” He swallowed audibly. “You’re my wife and I treated you exactly the same.”

The disgust that filled his voice nearly shattered her already broken heart and brought tears to her eyes. “No,” she said, shaking her head fiercely. “You didn’t mean to hurt me. I know that.”

The pain that flashed in his eyes at her words only made her hurt for him more.

“The blood,” she rushed to say. “It’s...it wasn’t because you hurt me. Well, you did, but only a little...it was supposed to.”

He nodded once. “That does relieve me to know I didn’t hurt you as bad as I thought I had, but it’s not just about the blood.” He attempted a wobbly smile, the best his bruised face would allow. “My feelings for you aren’t what they should be and I won’t take away any more of your dignity by asking you to do that again or I’d be no better than any of those men who used my mother and her friends.”

A new sense of understanding came over her, one that made perfect sense at first, but then led to more questions. Numerous questions. Questions she wasn’t certain she wanted answered. Licking her lips, she screwed up the courage to ask just one. One that would answer so many others. “That woman, the one who I witnessed being held down and used by the men—”

“Was my mother.”

~Chapter Nineteen~

Gray inwardly cursed himself for what he’d just revealed to her. No, she has a right to know. She was his wife, his future; she had a right to know every one of the sordid details of his past.

“Michaela?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Her eyes bore into him, but not really seeing him. The expression on her face suggested she might be trying to make sense of everything.

“So the night at the brothel...”

His heart constricted and blood pounded in his ears, cutting off anything else she might have said. He remembered that night better than almost any other night of his life. He’d happened upon a group of ten or so men who were taking turns pinning down a prostitute, while the others had their turn at her.

She screamed and a man hit her across the face, then covered her mouth and threatened her not to make another noise. Her dress was ripped leaving her almost completely revealed as she flailed under their brutal treatment of her. Rage surged through him at their vile and rough treatment of her and he tried to stop them, but couldn’t. He was only a thin boy of sixteen and there were too many of them. They easily overpowered him. He fell to the ground battered and resigned, hurting and defeated, but he didn’t dare reveal who she was to him, lest either of them get a worse beating than they’d each already taken.

But his hope didn’t matter. His mother called his name. Her tone was soft and nearly inaudible, but he’d heard her nonetheless. He met her tear filled eyes and followed them to where she looked at a large pile of rubble and waste material. He squinted at the hill of debris and through a small opening caught a glimpse of Michaela squatting behind a pile, peeking over the edge at the display of men through a small opening.

With one last look back to his mother, pleading with her not to hate him for failing her, he crawled to Michaela and while the men were still distracted, he rescued the trembling girl before someone else saw her and hurt her.

The same emotions that went through him that night cycled through him again at the memory. They’d both been scared. Unsure where to go and what to do, uncertain of his own future, he’d saddled a horse for them and had let the horse run as fast as he could away from the fort. When he was sure they were a safe distance away, they stopped. Climbing down to give the horse and them a rest, he’d offered her a piece of jerky from the ration he always kept in his shirt pocket, then took a seat and pulled her close. At sixteen, he’d been reluctant to admit that his holding her was for anything other than to assure her that she was safe and no harm would come to her, but at twenty five, he knew better. They’d both been looking for comfort and reassurance that night and had found it by embracing the other.

How long they’d stayed there, nobody would ever know for it was the distant sound of a coyote howl that had pulled Gray from his fog. He needed to get Michaela home. The only trouble was, he couldn’t go there. Not yet. He needed to find out about his mother. It might be his only chance to see her again. It had already been almost two full years since he’d left her to go live with the colonel, he might not have another chance.

He knew it wasn’t proper to take Michaela to a brothel and more than that, he knew he’d need to protect her while they were there, even if that meant revealing to her the shame of who he was.

When they reached the brothel, Gray’s heart nearly exploded. General Davis’ horse was tied up in the front. That could only be bad news if the highest ranking officer from the fort had come. Not that he knew General Davis well, he didn’t. Only saw him in passing or when he’d been in trouble for a crime he might or might not have committed. It had always been a mystery to Gray why General Davis was always the first to learn of his indiscretion, but he assumed that was because he was the general, he knew everything.

The brothel had been exactly how Gray had remembered it: full of dense smoke and reeking of sweat, and other fluids... Holding onto Michaela’s hand so she couldn’t be hauled off or bothered, he went upstairs. Waiting in the hall was a line of his mother’s friends. None bothered to cover up and a few of the newer girls who didn’t know him were shameless enough to even try to flirt with him. He forced himself to be polite and offered them each a wide smile and a kiss on the hand. His heart might be aching from what he’d witnessed earlier, but theirs were always aching for having to live that torment. A little kindness from a man, no matter his age, would go a long way as a balm for their crushed spirits. He couldn’t deny them that.

When he reached the threshold of his mother’s room, he instantly went cold. General Davis was sitting at his mother’s bedside, holding her hand and kissing her cheek. So much made sense then. Why he’d been allowed to go live at the fort and why General Davis always knew every infraction he’d ever committed. Even why his mother had come to the fort that night: she and General Davis were carrying on a private love affair.

Rage had built in his chest. If it hadn’t been for the general’s disgusting urges that led him to send for her, his mother would have never endured such torture.

A second later the man looked up and surged to his feet. He came to the hall and his softened face turned to granite when he glimpsed Michaela. Gray abruptly released Michaela’s hand and ignored the general’s demand that they needed to speak. He didn’t give a damn. All that mattered to him at that moment was the battered woman lying in bed calling to him. With a quick directive of his own in the form of ‘go to hell’, Gray slammed the door and went where he was needed most.

“Gray?”

Gray’s whole body jerked painfully. “Sorry,” he said, blinking. “I was woolgathering. Did you say something?”

“Just that I’m sorry,” she said in a broken whisper. “I—I had no idea. All these years, I thought—” She swallowed convulsively. “Never mind what I thought. It was selfish.”

“Selfish?”

She discovered a recent fascination with her fingernails. “That night, when you took me on the horse, I thought...thought... Well, I thought you’d changed your mind about me, or were starting to. Then, when we arrived at the brothel and you so easily dropped all interest in me to go running into the room of the lady who was calling your name, I was devastated. I didn’t realize what everything meant to you. I just saw how I felt and—and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Michaela. As you said, you didn’t know. I didn’t tell you. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“But my father, he—he—he...”

“Was my mother’s friend,” he said with a frown.

Michaela gasped, covering her face with her hands. “No. No. That can’t be.”

“What can’t be?”

“I don’t think they were friends, Gray.”

He twisted his lips. “They weren’t friends in the way that you and I are friends, no. They were other kinds of friends.”

“Lovers.”

He grimaced. He’d always hated the way that word sounded. They might have had a professional relationship, but he didn’t believe for a moment that any love passed between them. “Yes. They were the type of friends who shared certain intimacies. And yes, she was on her way to the fort that night to see him, consequently,” he said before she could ask.

“Gray, I am so sorry,” she said again.

“Don’t be. You can’t change the past any more than I can.” He swallowed the hard lump that was in his throat.

“I know I can’t, but is there nothing that I can do to show compassion or seek forgiveness for the hatred I’ve let fester all these years?”

He tried to chuckle but ended up wincing and groaning in pain. He’d assumed her bitterness toward him when he’d first arrived was just because he’d never shown any interest in her overall during their time at Fort Henry, not because of the events of one night. He reached for her hand and in the most serious and authoritative voice he could muster under the circumstances said, “Now that I’m your husband, you must banish all hatred post haste. As for the other, your father tried to make it right the only way he could by sending me to West Point.”

“Is that bitterness I hear in your tone, Captain Grayson Montgomery?” she teased.

“Perhaps a bit.” He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him, suddenly very tired.

“Thank you for telling me your secrets, Gray. I’m glad you did.”

Oddly enough, so was he.

~Chapter Twenty~

Michaela could hardly wait to see her father so she could start demanding some answers. She’d kept quiet long enough.

Fortunately for her, the chance came sooner than she’d expected when a swift, bang, bang, bang resounded on their door.

“Just use your key,” Pa snapped from behind the door.

“I’m giving them a chance to answer,” Uncle George said tightly.

Michaela wiggled in Gray’s strong hold and looked up to his face. He looked tired and weary. Whatever time they’d just been allowed for him to sleep hadn’t been enough.

“I’ll send them away,” she assured him.

The corner of his mouth pulled up in the hint of a smile.

“Do you not believe me?”

He shrugged. “I just want to see you try, that’s all. They’re both very determined.”

“And so am I.” She climbed off the bed and walked to the door. “He’s not accepting visitors right now,” she said by way of greeting to her father and Uncle George.

Father ignored her and pushed past her to enter her room. Uncle George gave her an apologetic smile and a shrug as he and another man she hadn’t seen before came inside.

“I don’t believe my wife gave you permission to come in here,” Gray said evenly.

“You look bad, Grayson,” Pa said.

Gray stared at him. “Apologize to her.”

“Why aren’t you lying down?”

Gray didn’t answer, just stared at her father.

“Apologize for what?” Pa burst out.

“For ignoring her when she spoke to you.”

“Boy, if a man listened every time a woman spoke, he’d never leave his house.”

“You know what I meant. She told you not to come in here and you pushed right past her before she’d finished speaking. Now apologize.”

“Must have taken a hard hit to the head.”

“Not too hard that my thick skull didn’t protect me,” Gray said through clenched teeth. “This is Michaela’s home, too, and you should have respected her enough to have listened to her, and not just let yourself in.”

“You need someone to look after your injuries,” Pa said unapologetically.

“And I’ll let old sawbones over there do his job after you apologize to Michaela.”

Michaela nearly let out a nervous giggle. She didn’t think her father had apologized to her. Ever. Leave it to Gray to demand the impossible.

“I’m sorry, Michaela,” Pa practically barked.

“Next time don’t ignore her,” Gray warned, scooting down on the bed to lie down.

The strange man in the room, who Michaela suspected was who Gray had referred to as “old sawbones” came forward and began an examination of Gray, noting the lacerations on his face and the bruises on his midsection.

“Anything below the waist?” he asked, casting a pointed glance at Gray’s groin.

Michaela’s skin grew warm. She hadn’t even thought to ask if he’d been injured there.

“It’ll be fine,” Gray said harshly, moving a hand to shield that part of his anatomy. Apparently, men like Gray had a bit of modesty, too.

Shame washed over her. Men like Gray? Everything he’d told her this afternoon contradicted everything she’d ever believed to be true about him. He wasn’t the womanizer she’d mistakenly believed him to be based on his knowing the names of everyone in the brothel and being acquainted with where everything was. She shook her head. She still had questions, but now wasn’t the time.

“Well, if your stones continue to hurt or turn purple, come see me,” the medic said with a grunt.

“That won’t be happening. Your solution to everything is amputation,” Gray said with a snarl.

The medic chuckled then placed a hand on either side of Gray’s abdomen and ran his fingers slowly up and down the sides, pushing on different places. “Inhale. Again.”

Gray sucked in a breath and winced and bucked.

“Try again,” the medic said, digging his fingers in deeper into Gray’s skin near the protrusions.

Gray did as he was instructed, cursing in pain.

“Cracked ribs, I’m afraid,” the medic concluded.

Michaela had guessed as much just by looking at him.

The medic dug into his bag and pulled out an amber bottle. “Laudanum. It’ll help him sleep until he can start healing. He should be able to walk and work just fine within three days.”

Michaela doubted that was true, but understood that injured men who weren’t missing limbs, were still men well enough to work. She took the laudanum from the medic. “Thank you for coming by.”

“Thank you for your fine hospitality,” Pa said sarcastically.

She was tempted to let that go, but she couldn’t. “I need to speak to you.” She cast a glance back at Gray. “Can you come back after I give this to him?”

Her father sobered. “Is there something more serious, Michaela?”

“N-no,” she lied. What she had to say was serious indeed, but it wasn’t about Gray’s injuries. “I just want to talk.”

“I don’t have time to just talk. Now that Gray is injured and Ridgely is more determined than ever to see Gray be punished, I need to find out what I can before his trial.”

“When is his trial?”

“I don’t know yet. We’re still waiting to hear back from General Bridges.”

“Please, Pa, come back to speak to me. It’s important.”

He sighed. “All right. But it had better be important.”

***

Samuel Davis had the strangest suspicion that what Michaela wanted to speak to him about was not only irrelevant these days but wasn’t an easy topic to trudge through.

He mindlessly ran his thumb over the edge of his chin. At least she’d married. He’d always worried she wouldn’t and when he was gone, what or who would she have in this world? Nothing. No one. Now she had Grayson. His heart hurt all over at just the thought of his son-in-law’s name. Grayson had always meant well, but even sometimes those with good intentions find themselves in trouble. Just like now.

Closing the door to the storage closet behind the ammunition storage, he bit back a grin. Living at military forts had been his life. What he loved more than anything. He’d retired four years ago when Michaela’s mother had become sick and couldn’t stay on post with him any longer. The physician said fresh air and open spaces would be best for her so he’d retired and they’d moved to a plantation outside of Savannah. He’d gone so she could live out her last days comfortably and his daughters could make good matches.

He crested the top of the stairs that led to the rooms where his daughters stayed. He paused and looked out over the fort. Considering what Michaela might want to talk to him about, it might be the last time he got to enjoy such a view.

“I thought I was going to have to hire a spy to track you down,” Michaela said, opening her door.  She stepped aside for him to enter.

“Oh, so I’m allowed to come in this time?”

A shy smile spread her lips. “I don’t know what came over him earlier.”

“He’s just a husband trying to show a protective interest in what’s his.” Samuel came inside and sat down. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You didn’t seem to accept that earlier,” she pointed out.

“No. I’m used to getting my way, and he wasn’t giving in.” He couldn’t stop his grin. “That’s the way he’s always been with me though.”

“Do you blame him?”

“No, I don’t suppose I do. Not when he’ll forever hold me responsible for killing his mother.”

***

All the air in Michaela’s lungs left with a swift whoosh. She hadn’t expected her father to be so blunt.

“I see I’ve shocked you.”

“I just thought I’d have to pry a little more, that’s all.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll do that, too.” Pa crossed his ankles. “What would you like to know?”

Michaela walked in a circle on the floor. There were so many things she wanted to know. So many questions she’d listed in her mind before he’d come in. Then he’d been so blunt and now she couldn’t think.

“I’m assuming you knew all along who everyone was?”

He didn’t even blink at her unclear statement. “You mean that Rebecca was Grayson’s mother?”

Michaela nodded numbly. She’d only ever heard her father use his lover’s name once, the night she’d first confronted him after she’d found evidence of their affair: a heavily perfumed letter signed: I’ll be waiting for you always, for you’ll always own my heart, Rebecca. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why did you need to know?” he countered.

“Because...because,” she stammered. “You know why.”

“Because you were helplessly in love with her son?”

Hot scorching flames crept up her neck and licked her face.

He poked out his bottom lip. “How could I blame you? Grayson was so very similar to his mother at that age, I couldn’t fault you there.”

“At that age?” she burst out.

Pa rubbed his hands over his wrinkled face and sighed. “You should probably sit down.”

She took a careful seat on the edge of the bed, trying her best not to disturb Gray as he snored quietly.

When she was still, her father began to speak again. “I met Rebecca when she was sixteen and I was eighteen. There was something about her that drew me to her. I imagine it was the same thing that drew you to her son.” A wistful smile touched his lips. “We’d met the summer before I left for West Point. I loved her dearly, but I couldn’t marry her. Not yet. If I did; I couldn’t attend West Point and become an officer. It was just that simple. I didn’t have the means to support her. We each promised that we’d wait.”

“But she didn’t,” Michaela guessed at the sad expression that came over her father’s face.

“She married an investor,” he said by way of answer. He frowned. “But not a very good one.” He shook his head. “By the time he died eight years later, I’d already married your mother and Virginia and Mary had been born. I wasn’t able to help her clear the bad debt her husband had left her and one of the men who’d been owed money offered to settle her debts if she’d take a two year contract in his brothel.” He let out a deep, harsh breath. “I hated the way I couldn’t help her. But I had a family, too, and didn’t make near the amount she needed.” He let out a deep exhale. “Her two year contract turned into a lifetime. Not that I was around for most of it. After your mother had found the first letter, the one asking for help to pay off Rebecca’s husband’s debts, she’d demanded I sever contact, which I did. Your mother was my wife, after all. She didn’t deserve the shame that might come if someone were to find out. Even if we hadn’t done anything wrong.”

A thousand thoughts raced through Michaela’s mind. Then how did the two of them find each other again? When had he quit caring about Mother’s feelings and started an affair with his first love?

“While I was at Fort Edgecomb, I got word that your mother had been receiving gentleman callers at her residence during my absence.” The way his face contorted as he said those words told her exactly what types of “gentleman callers” these were. “When I confronted her, she informed me that she didn’t love me and had been conducting several affairs. No longer feeling that I was bound by the same chains of honor and duty as before, I paid a man to track down Rebecca.”

He steepled his hands in front of his face. “I don’t know why I did it. Perhaps because I was hurt and felt betrayed. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “When I found out where she was, I put in for a transfer to Fort McHenry and just for good measure, made sure your mother would be coming, too. When we arrived, I went to see Rebecca.” His lips thinned and he narrowed his eyes on Michaela. “Not for that reason. Never for that reason. We only talked.” He sagged back in his chair. “I was surprised when she mentioned she’d had a son since she’d thought she was barren after eight years of marriage with no children. I wasn’t surprised, however, that because of that she was still under contract with that man. Brothel owners are the worst sort of cheat. I asked if I could buy out her contract so she could start over. She wouldn’t let me though. She informed me that Mr. Dixon, the owner, was unreasonable and I’d never be able to afford it. She was right. The price he quoted me was more than I’d earn in ten years. But the price for Grayson wasn’t.”

“The price for Gray?” she echoed in shock.

“Apparently, Mr. Dixon, didn’t think it was enough to heap charges on his mother’s tab for conceiving him, but had created one for Grayson, too.” He shuddered. “I cannot begin to imagine what vile acts he might have been forced into to work it off.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “You’re not to tell him about that, please. He despises me enough already.”

“You think he’d despise you even more for saving him from an unspeakable future?”

“It’s called pride, Michaela. Even when we’re wrong, it’s still there.”

“So that’s why he came to live at Fort McHenry, but why did he leave?”

“He hated me.” He slowly scratched the stubble that had grown in under his chin since he’d shaved this morning. “He blamed me for his mother’s death and didn’t wish to live there anymore or have anything to do with me.”

“She was coming there to see you?” Michaela croaked, though she supposed she already knew that since they were lovers and all.

“Not exactly, but it’s what Grayson first assumed and what I allowed him to believe.” He paused. “It’s better that way.”

“First assumed?”

“She’d actually come to see him, but he doesn’t need to know that.” His voice turned to steel. “Ever. Michaela, do you understand me?”

She nodded once.

“She’d written me several times asking to see him and I’d brushed her off, telling her it was better that she didn’t.” He closed his eyes for an extended blink. “She just couldn’t stay away any longer.” He sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have taken him to see her as she’d requested. I just thought—” his voice broke— “I didn’t think it’d be good for her to see him. I thought he might wish to go back to stay with her and he had such promise with the army.”

Emotion that was already clogging Michaela’s throat seemed to choke her all the more. By his own admission, her father was responsible for Rebecca’s death. Not directly since it wasn’t him who she’d come to see, but she wouldn’t have come had Pa not denied her requests for his own reasons. Either way, she could now fully understand Gray’s bitterness toward him. “What happened that made him decide to go to West Point if he hated the military and all that had anything to do with you?”

“I don’t think it was the military he hated so much, it was just me he hated.” A blank expression came over Pa’s face. “What other choice would he have had in this life if he hadn’t accepted the invitation?”

They both knew the answer to that: none. Having only ever known the dangerous lifestyle of brothels, which he abhorred, and the military, the choice was likely very easy for him to make.

“I’m assuming you arranged for him to go?”

Pa nodded.

“Does he at least know that?”

Pa nodded again, chuckling. “Yes. It took a little prodding, but I got him to accept.” He cocked his head to the side. “I do believe the terms of our agreement were along the lines of he’d accept the position to go, but if he ever saw me again after he graduated, he’d rip me apart with his bare hands.” The edges of his lips twitched. “I guess he’s softened toward me because all he did was hit a rounders ball at me.”

In spite of all the unsettling newfound knowledge she’d recently learned, Michaela laughed. “Perhaps you two will become closer once—” She closed her mouth with a snap, but the knowing gleam in her father’s eyes told her he knew exactly what she was about to suggest.

“Then I just might get the namesake your mother denied me by having four daughters and no sons,” he said with a wink. Then, without giving her a chance to say anything else, he took to his feet and saw himself out of her room.

~Chapter Twenty-One~

Michaela lay next to her husband, intertwining her fingers with his. Had he been awake, there was no way she’d have done something so bold. But since he was still sleeping...

The afternoon had passed quickly enough. For Gray, that is. He’d been asleep for several hours, leaving her to her own devices, or to be more precise her conflicted thoughts. In her mind, indecision warred with curiosity, hope with despair, and resentment with understanding. She longed for someone to confide in. Someone who wouldn’t judge and could offer an untainted opinion: Allison. She was the only one here she could speak to about any of this. Neither Ella nor Aunt Lucille could ever know of the things she’d just heard, and for as much as she hated to even think the thought, Mrs. Ridgely couldn’t be trusted.

An odd sense of coldness washed over her at the thought of Mrs. Ridgely’s name. It wasn’t that she’d actually believed the woman when she’d insinuated that she and Gray might be having an affair. Between everything she’d been learning about her husband since their wedding, she knew better than to believe for one second that he’d have actually been pursuing her, or anyone, as a lover. No, the sting was more at the way the woman had spoken so casually about it—as if everyone would believe it and she didn’t care one bit about sullying Gray’s name with her insinuation that he’d be carrying on an affair with her, his superior’s wife. Didn’t she realize how dangerous that was for Gray? It could—and did—lead to bodily harm and possible repercussions in his career.

She sighed and snuggled up closer to Gray. He’d probably tell her to give him some space if he were awake. How unfortunate for him, he wasn’t. Therefore, she’d lie as close to him as she wanted.

Knock, knock.

Michaela sat straight up, her heart pounding. What was that? Commanding her hammering heart to be still, she took a deep breath and blinked to gain perspective on her whereabouts. She’d fallen asleep and now only a dim light of the setting sun filled their room.

The knocking came again, a little louder this time.

“Michaela? Gray?” came a muffled voice decidedly masculine.

Michaela hadn’t spent enough time around Gray’s friends yet to know who was on the other side of the door. She bit her lip. Perhaps she shouldn’t open the door, then.

“Michaela, it’s Jack,” the voice called, as if he’d read her thoughts.

She relaxed. Now that he’d identified himself, she could place his voice. “Just a moment,” she called, rolling off the bed. She stumbled to the door.

Jack and Wes were both standing outside. “The ladies are making supper next door, we thought we’d see if you needed any help with Gray,” Wes said.

She swallowed and glanced at her sleeping husband. “He’s been sleeping five or six hours now.”

They both walked inside and flinched when they saw his battered body on top of the bed.

“We could use more water,” Michaela blurted. It was true, they did need water and she didn’t like the idea of going to the well alone, but she doubted they’d come by just to be told to go fetch water.

“Broken ribs?” Wes asked, stepping closer to Gray’s body.

“That’s what the medic thinks.”

Wes reached forward and placed two fingers where Gray’s ribs were pushing up. “He’d probably recover better without his boots and trousers on. He’d be able to breathe better and move easier without the tight constraints of his waistband directly below his broken rib.”

Despite the heat crawling up her face, Michaela said, “But I’ve already unfastened them, is that not good enough?” Her father and the medic had almost acted scandalized that she had taken the initiative to do that already when they’d come by.

“It probably has helped him some, yes, but if you look, a large knot has formed just under the top of his trousers.” He shrugged. “If it were me, I’d want them off. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

She nodded once. “I can see to that.”

“No need to do it alone. Jack will help you,” Wes said, clapping Jack on the shoulder. “I’ll go get your water.” He picked up the two empty water pails Gray had stacked in the corner and left the room, leaving her and Jack alone to tend to Gray.

“You think this is unnecessary?” she ventured.

“No, Wes is right, he needs to be free to move around without the fabric digging into his tender flesh.” He swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice was more even. “My father was very sick before he passed, and as you know Ella was very sick for a while and required care.” He shrugged, then flashed her a smile that didn’t quite reach his brown eyes before reaching to untie Gray’s boots. “I never imagined I’d be tending Gray on his sickbed.”

Following his lead, she went about untying and removing her husband’s other boot, then his stocking. Not daring to chance a glance at Jack and let him see the blush on her face, she kept her head lowered and reached for the already unfastened top of his trousers, waiting for Jack to tell her of whatever plan he’d formulated for them to get Gray’s trousers off without waking or hurting him.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been in your place. No judgment here.”

Her head shot up and she studied his face. “You really love her, don’t you?”

“More than I ever imagined was possible.”

“I’m glad. For both of you.”

He grinned. “Gray’ll come around. Just give him time.”

She hoped he was right because sometime this afternoon all the ice she’d encased her heart with had begun to melt and it would only be a matter of time before she’d be vulnerable to him once again.

“I’ll lift him around his waist and you work as quickly as you can.”

Michaela slid Gray’s trousers down as mechanically as she could. It wouldn’t do to allow herself to wince or grasp as she uncovered even more bruises on his legs. “It’s a wonder he didn’t bleed to death with all the broken veins,” she said, grimacing at the sharp edge in her voice. Since Jack still had Gray elevated, she quickly reached for the edge of their wedding quilt and threw it back so she’d be able to cover him with it while he rested.

“He’ll be all right,” Jack assured her, lowering Gray back to the bed. He reached for the blanket and pulled it over him. “He’s one of the strongest and most resilient men I’ve met. Just give him a day or two and he’ll be awake and annoying you so much you’ll want to give him more laudanum just to get a moment of peace.”

Michaela doubted she’d do that—

“Jack?”

Gray’s raspy voice chilled her to the bone.

“Yes?” Jack said, leaning down toward Gray.

Gray blinked his swollen eyes a few times. “Can you do me a favor?” His voice barely more than a ragged, broken whisper.

Though she shouldn’t even think about it, she did wonder why Gray was asking for Jack when he knew she was standing right there beside him.

Jack gave her a quick glance. “What do you need?”

If she wasn’t mistaken, a hint of laughter sparkled in his half-closed eyes. He crooked his finger at Jack, and Jack lowered his head closer to hear what Gray would say. “Yes?”

“I need to piss.”

***

The expression on Jack’s face was worth whatever discomfort might ensue at actually having to accept his help with the task.

“That’s what your wife is for,” Jack said through clenched teeth.

Gray offered him a hint of a smile. “A lady shouldn’t be subjected to such a coarse task.”

“No, only me,” Jack mumbled. He pursed his lips. “Is this your way of getting back at me for putting a little castor oil in your coffee last winter?”

“Absolutely.”

Michaela laughed at Gray’s unapologetic words and his heart skipped a beat. She might have had misguided affections for him when they’d first met, but as he’d predicted, she’d make him a good wife.

He allowed Jack to help him, though he hated every blasted second. However, it was better than either of the alternatives, he supposed.

When he was a bit more comfortable, he allowed Jack and Michaela to help him sit. “Thank you.”

“Wes just went to get some water, is there anything else you need?” Michaela asked.

“No.”

“You’re not hungry?”

His jaw hurt just thinking about chewing. “No. Just tired.”

She ran her fingers over her forehead taking the hair that had fallen into her eyes with them and smoothing it back behind her ear. “Do you want me to get you some cool cloths to put where you hurt most?”

Gray shook his head. “I’ll be all right.” The unconvinced look on her face made him want to smile.

Wes came back just then, carrying two pails of water. “Looks like you’re ready to go back to work tomorrow.”

Gray closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head back. That was the last thing he wanted to think about. “I was given a three-day stay and I plan to use every one of them.”

“Remember, Gray, separation makes the heart grow fonder,” Jack whispered.

Wes grinned and slapped Jack on the shoulder. “We should probably go and give them some quiet time—they’ve only been married two days, remember.” His expression turned more serious, something that was unusual for Wes. “If he needs anything, just come ask.”

Michaela agreed then saw his friends out the door. “The three of you share many restrictive reminiscences.”

“Restrictive reminiscences?” he repeated slowly.

She smiled at the way he was careful to say the difficult phrase and picked up one of the water pails Wes had placed on the table. “Reminiscences that are restricted to only the three of you knowing the details to. Restrictive reminiscences.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No. I wouldn’t say it bothers me.” She bit her lip and looked at the full water pail, then at the pitcher, a slight frown creasing her brow. After a second, she shrugged, grabbed a cup and dipped it straight into the brimming water pail, filling the cup. She set the cup down on the table and poured in a dose of laudanum, then handed him the cup and sat down in the rickety wooden chair closest to the bed.

He took a slow drink. The cool water felt good in his dry mouth even if the taste of laudanum was bitter on his tongue. “It just makes you feel like you don’t know where you fit in?”

Her surprised look told him he’d guessed correctly. For a reason he couldn’t place, the knowledge that’d he’d guessed right didn’t make him as pleased with himself as he would have been otherwise; overshadowed rather by a strange feeling at realizing his wife didn’t feel like she fit in here.

“I’ve known Wes and Jack a long time. They know things about me, I wouldn’t want anyone else to know and I imagine given enough time, the same will develop between the two of us.” He offered her the best reassuring smile he could with his busted lips. “Besides, some of the things the three of us find comical really aren’t.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re not,” she agreed with a half-smile. “And some of them, I don’t even want to know the story behind.”

“But it’s still not easy to hear others tease about something when you don’t understand what they’re saying or why?” he ventured.

Michaela waved her hand through the air. “I’m sure the banter between you and Jack tonight about work and absence making something fonder has something to do with something either you or Wes said to him at one time—just like you wanting to seek revenge for his giving you castor oil in your coffee. My sisters and I have our secrets, too, so I can understand.”

“Then is there something else bothering you?”

“Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”

“Michaela?”

“I don’t feel left out, it’s just that—” she shrugged— “it reminded me that sometimes I don’t really know everything I’ve been allowed to believe that I know...” She continued on with something about partial truths, but try as he might, Gray couldn’t fight the envelope of sleep that surrounded him that threatened to, and eventually did, engulf him.

~Chapter Twenty-Two~

Just as Jack had told Michaela he would, Gray was awake and becoming quite an annoyance in only two days’ time.

“Gray, you’re not going to work. You still need to be resting,” Michaela said for no less than the tenth time this morning.

Gray reached his hand out. “Give me my clothes, Michaela.”

“No.”

Frowning, he put his left hand on the back of a chair for support and reached toward her.

She scampered to the other side of the room.

He gritted his teeth. “I don’t wish to play games.”

“No? Then you’re not well enough to go back to work.” She sent him her best smile.

He didn’t look convinced. Tall and muscled, naked and bruised, but not convinced. “I don’t care what you want me to do, I need to go back to work.”

“Need?”

“Yes.” His turquoise eyes bore into hers. “I need to go talk to the men and see what’s going on.”

“You mean investigate?” She wasn’t a fool.

“Someone has to,” he said flippantly. “I was convinced that now that I was owed a fair trial, I’d be safe since I know for certain there isn’t any direct evidence pointing at me. But now that it’s been assumed that I was forcing myself on Mrs. Ridgely, I need to find something, just about anything, that will expose the real culprit in Soft Dove’s rape.”

Michaela blew out a breath. “I think you’re too worried. General Ridgely was surprised to see you in there with his wife. He’s likely learned the truth and is embarrassed. Nothing about the circumstances rings true for you having attempted to rape her.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And how did you draw that conclusion?”

“She already had her clothes off,” Michaela said dismissively. “If you were going to force her, she wouldn’t have waited until she was naked to start screaming.”

A mix of emotions played over his face: acknowledgement, confusion, and then alarm. “You’re correct. It doesn’t look like I went there with the intent to force her, but instead to visit my...my...lover.” He pursed his lips. “Considering the circumstances, I don’t know which is worse. Her scream would indicate that things had turned sour between us and my loaded gun only confirmed that.” He shook his head. “This doesn’t do me any favors. I need to get back to work.”

Michaela wanted to reach across the bed and shake him senseless! How could he not see that this was just a misunderstanding? Not to say she was overflowing with excitement that her husband had been beaten so badly as a result of this misunderstanding, but that’s all it was. Surely by now the general and Mrs. Ridgely had worked out the details and Gray had nothing to worry about.

“My clothes, Michaela.”

She sighed and tossed his last clean shirt and trousers down on the bed. The others had been too dirty and tattered for immediate repair. “Fine, but if you perish because you overworked yourself before you were well, do not expect me to weep at your burial.”

“I don’t,” he said, snatching up his trousers. He leaned against the chair for support as he dragged them on. “I fully expect you to fling yourself on the pine box, sobbing.”

***

Gray held his breath and clenched his jaw as he escorted Michaela to the Lewises’ for the day. He’d never tell her this, but she was right. He was in no condition to go back to work. Just walking made him want to fall to the ground. It was a good thing he’d let Michaela talk him into wrapping a tight bandage around his midsection or he’d have for sure expired from pain by now.

“Would you like to come for lunch and allow all the ladies to fuss over you?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, her entire face turned red. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

He gave her a grin. “I think I just might have to do that.”

Blushing, she hurried inside.

He watched her go. Nine years ago he’d have laughed in the face of anyone who’d said that one day he’d marry her. And only laughed harder if he’d gone on to suggest that Gray would have liked it. He shook his head. He shouldn’t like it. Well, all right, maybe he should just a little. They would be stuck with each other for the rest of their lives, so it would only be prudent to like the other just a little.

He shook off the thought. She’d been attentive to him while he was recovering. That was all. It wasn’t like she’d had much choice, either. Someone had to do it and as his wife, she couldn’t have refused.

Gray took his time walking back to his office. Partially because of the crippling pain coursing through his body and partially because of the dread that had settled over him and made his legs feel heavier than iron.

Last night he’d asked Wes and Jack if there had been any word yet on his trial. Both had said they hadn’t heard anything, but Jack mentioned that General Ridgely had come by both days Gray had been absent looking for him.

Gray had no real desire to see the man, but it was unavoidable, and there was only one thing Gray disliked more than men who let their high position taint their judgment: it was confrontations with such men.

A year ago, General Ridgely had been the calm voice of reason and logic in helping Wes and Allison. It was hard to reconcile him with the tyrant who’d been quick to accuse Gray of wrongdoing.

He opened the door to the large room the commissioned officers all shared for their office and lumbered over to his seat. Thankful he was alone at the moment, he slowly eased himself into his chair.

“I’m glad to see you here,” General Ridgely said, startling Gray. He hadn’t noticed the general sitting in the back corner, reading a book.

Gray stared at him. He had a hard time believing General Ridgely was glad to see him. “Can I help you with something?”

General Ridgely sighed “I came by this morning to inform you that effective today, you’ll be under my command.”

“I see,” Gray said slowly. “Is there a reason why?” He pressed his lips together. Did it really matter?

“I think it’s best under the circumstances.” He dropped his book to the floor with a hard thud. “The closeness between your father-in-law and Colonel Lewis might taint the outcome of your trial so I think it’s best that Colonel Lewis is no longer your commanding officer.”

Gray swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes, sir.”

“Very good.” General Ridgely came over to Gray’s desk. “Now that we have that settled, here are your first orders.” He withdrew a folded paper from his breast pocket and handed it to Gray.

Gray watched the man’s slow retreating back as he left. Gray already had a good idea of what the script on the paper would say and didn’t wish to give General Ridgely any entertainment at his expense.

When the general had finally left the room, Gray unfolded the paper and scowled.

Take your unit of men and begin work on the southern wing of the new barracks.

He’d been right. He ran his hand through his hair. How was he going to tell his men that gone were the days of target practice and perfecting their drill steps, now they’d be hauling lumber and mixing pitch until they either died of fever (or exhaustion) or ran away?

***

Michaela tried not to let her disappointment show at Gray’s decision not to join them for lunch. She’d been shocked to the toes she’d actually invited him, then shocked all the way back to her scalp that he seemed to accept.

But he hadn’t come.

“Is something wrong?” Ella asked.

“No.” Michaela wiped her wet hands off on a white hand towel. “Why do you ask?”

“Well...” Ella started slowly, giving Michaela an imploring stare. “This morning you were smiling and could hardly sit still. You didn’t even finish a single seam you’d started,” she reminded her sister. “Then all during lunch you stared at the door. I know you didn’t get a plate out for him, but were you expecting Gray?”

“Expecting?” Michaela asked with a forced giggle. “No. But I thought he might wish to come and have lunch in a chair more comfortable than one of those benches in the dining hall.”

“Did you invite him?”

“Not exactly.”

Ella lifted her brows. “Then what exactly did you do?”

“I suggested it.”

Ella sighed. “I think you’ll have to do more than that.” She grabbed Michaela’s hand and led her to sit down in a vacant dining chair. “Do you remember when Pa said that men who joined the military weren’t always the most intelligent creatures?”

Michaela stared at her sister, speechless. Had her sister just insulted both of their husbands and all of their friends as well? “He said that because of those boys who snuck out of camp and got themselves stranded on the top of a mountain.”

“Yes, I know,” Ella said dismissively. “But I think he was onto something.”

Michaela continued to stare blankly at her sister.

“Just hear what I have to say.”

“I didn’t realize I had a choice,” Michaela muttered.

“You don’t.” Ella flashed her a grin. “Remember in Savannah when all the young men would anticipate a lady’s need before she spoke?”

“I suppose so.” Michaela hadn’t been on the hunt for a husband with the same eagerness as her younger sister. Or at all, to be honest.

“Men who join the military are real men.”

“Real men?”

“Yes, real men. They’re not the kind to anticipate a lady’s needs or waste time on cryptic sentences. At least that’s what I’ve learned from my time here.” She squeezed Michaela’s forearm again. “If you want him to join us for lunch, you’d do better to just ask him rather than suggest it.”

“And you’ve divined this because you always ask Jack directly for what you want?”

A telling blush colored Ella’s face, leading them both into a fit of girlish giggles. Apparently her sister held back nothing in her newfound bravery.

~Chapter Twenty-Three~

Gray sagged against a tall oak tree and ran a hand over his sweaty face. He hadn’t had so much physical exertion since he first went to West Point and was made to run and do exercises all day. That was miserable. This was excruciating. There wasn’t a single part of his body that didn’t throb.

“Need help, Captain?” Private Dobson, one of his men, asked.

Gray grunted a ‘no’. It was the best response he could form. He wanted to collapse right there and let his men carry him back to the barracks. But he had more pride than that. He pushed off the tree. “Back to work.”

All of the men in his unit picked up their chains that were looped under the forty-foot log they were hauling up to where the new barracks was being built and began to walk. Not one to let his men do all the work while he barked orders, Gray clenched his teeth together and held tight to his piece of chain.

They’d been carrying cut logs from down the river up a mile to where the new barracks was being built all day. It was a slow, grueling process. Due to the sheer size of the logs, it took all the men in a single unit to move it. And even then, it wasn’t easy. They had to stop to rest every fifteen minutes or so, making it impossible to carry more than three logs in a single day to where they needed to go.

At this rate, this new barracks might never get built.

And to be frank, Gray didn’t really give a damn.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew why he’d been given this assignment. Though not intentional, Gray had made General Rigid look like a fool and this was the price the general felt he needed to pay. Gray wouldn’t lower his pride enough to ask how long he’d be made to do this, but he’d hope it wasn’t too long.

Sneering and snarling, Gray and his men got the log to its destination, dropping it with a bone-crushing thud. “That’s all for today,” he said to his men.

Some wiped their sweaty brows with their dirty shirtsleeves, smearing mud across their skin while most of the others sank to the ground in an undignified manner the way Gray wanted so desperately to do.

By some miracle, his weary legs carried him over to the Lewises’. Just as he rounded the corner to their door, he caught a glimpse of Wes and Allison and what looked like Jack and Ella slipping into the alley that served as the southern entrance of the barracks. He briefly wondered if Michaela had decided to go with them, but didn’t think he’d be able to make it back here to meet up with her if he made it there only to realize she was still with Mrs. Lewis. He mustered enough strength to make it up the stairs and to the Lewises’ door.

He’d just closed his hand around the knob when it jerked open.

“Gray!” Michaela practically shrieked, her green eyes flaring wide. “What has happened to you?”

“Are you ready to go home?”

She shook her head wildly, her hair falling from its pins. “What happened?”

He forced a shrug. “Work.”

“Slave labor looks more like it.” She reached for his hand and gave it a gentle tug. “Come sit down.”

“Michaela, I’d prefer to go home,” he said quietly. He tried to stretch his lips into some sort of semblance of a smile. “You can dote on me there.”

She cocked her head to the side and squeezed his hand. “Promise?”

“Yes. Now, let’s go.”

She called a quick goodbye to Mrs. Lewis then they were on their way to their home.

“Do you mind if we make a quick stop over at Ella’s?”

Gray’s body screamed, “NO!” His lips, however, said, “If that’s what you want.” If that’s what you want? Since when had her need to socialize with someone she’d seen all day become more important than his need to rest. “You did say quick, didn’t you?”

She laughed. “Yes. I wanted to tell her that we won’t be able to join her for dinner like she’d asked.”

“You’re welcome to go...”

“No, I’d rather stay with you.”

He started at her statement. Pursing his lips, he said her name in a silent warning. It was becoming apparent whatever feelings she’d once had for him were starting to reform and he didn’t like that. It was dangerous.

“What? Is it illegal for a wife to wish to dine with her husband? Besides—” she squinted her eyes at him— “if I’ve learned anything about you and your friends, it’s that you all like to bring up past transgressions and torture each other for them. Do you honestly think I’d give you such easy ammunition against me? Absolutely not. I see this as insurance.”

“Insurance?”

“Yes, see, if ever I get hurt the way Ella did, I’d like to think you’d be in the room with me while I was sick and not out dining with your friends and bringing me the scraps.”

He gave a slight half-chuckle at her reasoning. He suspected there was more to it than that, but decided it was best to keep his mouth closed.

As promised, Michaela was quick in her venture to tell her sister they wouldn’t be joining them for dinner. Ella, however, didn’t seem to accept that she couldn’t do something for them and insisted that she’d cook them dinner and bring it over when it was done. Gray wouldn’t argue with that. Michaela didn’t, either.

In their room, she helped him undress and get comfortable in their bed.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“You don’t need to thank me.” She tucked his boots under the edge of their bed. “I know we don’t share the same feelings and affections that Ella and Jack do, but I know you well enough to know that if the circumstances were reversed, you’d help take care of me.”

“After I beat the man’s ass who dared to hurt you,” he corrected, garnering a grin from her.

She cast him a sidelong glance. “Yes, after that.” She twisted her lips and partially closed her left eye. “You’re not trying to suggest I go find Lieutenant Jefferson and beat him black and blue with my parasol, are you?”

“Only if you take Wes and Jack with you.”

Her throaty laughter filled the air. “I’ll be sure to arrange it with them.” She grabbed the edge of the blue and white quilt on their bed and pulled it snug around his neck. “Meanwhile, you get some rest. I’ll wake you when Ella comes over with the dinner.”

Dinner never came. Or if it did, Gray was too tired to wake up and eat.

By the next morning, Gray felt far better than he had the day before.

He sat with a grunt and looked around the room, trying to decipher the time by the amount of light coming into their room from the curtains.

“Good morning,” Michaela said from where she sat brushing her long, auburn hair with a large silver brush.

He looked around the room in awe. It was immaculate. Everything was straightened and cleaned. The shelves were even restocked.

“Sorry, I missed dinner.” He winced at the roughness in his voice that had nothing to do with the pain in his ribs.

“It’s all right.” She winked at him. “I enjoyed your share.”

Gray brought his hands softly to his chest and dropped his jaw. “You didn’t save it for me?”

“No. But only because I was thinking of you.”

“Thinking of me?”

“Of course.” She pulled the iron pot of water off the fire. “You’re debilitated as it is, I couldn’t imagine how awful it’d be if you became sick from the spoiled meat, too.” She went to the bureau and picked up his folded uniform. “Then of course there is the other reason.”

“Which is?”

“I hear the medicine man around here hasn’t a modest fiber in his body. I’d hate to have to go seek him out only for you to grow jealous or insecure.”

A broken bark of laughter erupted from his chest. He grimaced in pain, but smiled nonetheless. “As a boy, I saw more undressed men walking about than is good for a body, but at least they were merely walking.”

She stilled for a moment, then understanding lit her features and she pretended to swat at him for the vivid and obscene thought he’d put into her head.

He threw his arms into the air. “Don’t hurt me. I only speak the truth. That man was jumping and running and screaming and flailing. I was thoroughly scandalized.”

“Ah, I see,” she said slowly, handing him his uniform. “And do you not think I haven’t recently been scandalized?” She gave a pointed glance in the proximity of his covered waist.

“I’d hardly call it scandalizing when it’s your own husband.”

“I think that might depend on the wife,” she said cryptically, filling him with an odd mixture of hope, dread and mostly uncertainty.

~Chapter Twenty-Four~

The second day of hauling logs seemed much easier than the first. Of course, that might be because Gray had rested so much the night before.

He was still exhausted though when it was time to stop for the day.

“Are you ready to go home?” he asked Michaela from the threshold of the Lewises’.

“I will be in a moment.” She turned and picked up a plate covered with a white towel.

He arched an eyebrow.

She did the same.

“Do you plan to reveal what you have on that plate?”

“No. Now, let’s go.”

In comfortable silence, they walked home.

“Why don’t you rest while I start dinner?” she suggested once they were inside.

Gray couldn’t argue with that logic. He removed his boots and sat on top of their bed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. He felt a sliver of guilt that he was such a useless burden to her, but it couldn’t be helped. His body still ached with crippling pain. One day, he promised himself. One day he’d be more attentive to her.

“Dinner is ready.”

Gray’s eyes shot open and his head snapped up. “It smells delicious.”

She gave him a queer look. “It’s just salt pork.”

“No salt pork is ever just salt pork.” He flicked his wrist. “Perhaps I’ll take you for a pass of the dining hall one night so you’ll know the difference.”

Shrugging, Michaela brought him a plate.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it from her. He licked his lips in anticipation. Very few times in his life had he eaten food made fresh just for him. As a boy, he’d eaten whatever scraps his mother or her friends had given him, with only a full plate on the occasion that one of them was sick. When he’d gone to Fort McHenry, the Jones family had been stingy with their food, never allowing him to dine at their table. Still, General Davis had seen to it he was given an equal portion at every meal with the men in the dining room. The food hadn’t been good, but it’d been more than he’d had for any meal before and he quickly formed a taste for it. The years between Fort McHenry and West Point he’d been reduced to scrounging again. Since then, he’d once again grown accustomed to undercooked (or sometimes overcooked depending on who was cooking) meals covered in salt and oozing with some sort of fluid. It wasn’t the most appetizing, but it would do the job.

Since coming to Fort Gibson, he’d been invited to the Lewises’ to dine for certain holidays and a few times for no reason other than them just inviting all of the officers under his command over for dinner, per Mrs. Lewis’ request, of course. Allison’s arrival had secured him about one improved meal per month and Ella had let him pilfer a few fresh tarts last week.

“Have you discovered a new way to eat, Gray?”

Gray’s eyes shot to where Michaela was seated at the table. “Pardon?”

“I find it usually works better to consume food through my mouth, but if you’d rather stare at it—” she shrugged, a sparkle in her green eyes— “who am I to question it?”

“Sorry, I was just— Never mind.” He cut into the thick slab with the edge of his fork then brought a piece to his watering mouth. The beefsteak she’d helped Allison make the other day faded when compared to this. He took another bite, then another. She could make this every night if she so desired. He’d eat it. When the meat was gone, he scooped up a large swoop from the cloud of whipped potatoes. “Mmm,” he said before he could stop himself. Her potatoes had something in them other than salt for spice and he liked it. He’d bet the beans were just as tasty. He stabbed a forkful and quickly devoured it.

“I take it I passed your standard?” Michaela teased as he scraped every last crumb from his plate. He’d have licked it if she were anyone other than his wife.

“You’re a good cook, Michaela,” he said, lowering his plate to his lap.

“Would you like mine?” She extended her plate in his direction.

His mouth watered. Her plate was almost full. “N-no.”

She laughed. “Here.” She walked over from where she’d sat at the table and gave him her plate. “It’s only fair. I ate yours last night.”

“That’s because I was unconscious,” he pointed out, reluctantly taking the plate from her.

“You eat that. I’ll just have some fruit and jerky.” She went to the shelves in the corner and retrieved some dried fruit and nuts and a swath of jerky. “This is all I need, now eat.”

Gray needed no further urging.

“Are you full?”

Gray’s eyes lingered to the covered plate she’d brought with her from the Lewises’. “Not too full.”

“I’d hope not.” She lifted off the towel at a rate so slow it was pure torture. “Are you sure?”

He scowled and nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.”

She frowned. “I wouldn’t wish to give you a stomachache...”

“You let me worry about that,” he said, salivating.

She ripped the towel away revealing what appeared to be a pie—covered in nuts?

“They’re pecans,” she explained. “I baked them into the pie.”

“It looks wonderful.”

Michaela sliced the pie generously. “Here. If you want more, I’ll cut you another.”

“No, this will be enough for now. I want to save it.” He gave her a hopeful look. “Unless you’ll make another sometime soon?”

“I think that’ll depend on your behavior,” she teased with an unsuppressed giggle.

After he’d eaten enough of Michaela’s pecan pie to almost make himself sick, Michaela picked up a book she’d borrowed from one of the ladies and Gray promptly fell asleep.

***

Just as the second day hauling logs had been easier than the first, the third was easier than the second and the fourth slightly less daunting than the third. By the eighth day, Gray and his men had mastered a system. A system that allowed for Gray to use his frequent rests to ask casual questions of the other men.

So far, no one seemed to know anything about anything. Of course he couldn’t directly ask if anyone knew who at the fort might have fancied Soft Dove.

Grunting, Gray went back to work. His nights had become almost as mundane as his days. He’d collect Michaela from the Lewises’, then they’d go back to their room and she’d cook their dinner. It wasn’t anything fancy or diverse, but it was flavorful. Perhaps, he was biased, but he’d swear her cooking was better than Mrs. Lewis’, Allison’s, and Ella’s combined.

She’d also continued to help him when he needed it and let him rest. She’d offered to help him bathe, but that’s where he drew the line. If she were going to help him bathe, it wasn’t because she thought he couldn’t do it himself. Not to mention, just the thought of her dainty hands on certain parts of him were enough to drive him mad. The act might actually kill him.

“You doing all right out here, Gray?” Private Jacobs asked from behind him.

Gray spun around slowly to face the man who’d pulled him from his thoughts. “It’s not easy work, is it?”

Private Jacobs shook his head. “No. It ain’t,” he agreed in his thick Southern accent.

“Sorry we never got around to our chat.”

Jacobs remained expressionless, his shrewd eyes catching on something in the distance. “I’d best be off.”

Gray stood rooted in place as Jacobs walked away. There was something about the man that was off. A combination of his stature and demeanor that just sent chills down Gray’s spine. It was almost as if the man was hiding something. Gray narrowed his eyes on the man’s form. Could he be hiding something? Jacobs was certainly taller than most and stronger than that fella named Sampson from the Bible his mother had once told him about. Forcing a woman to accept his attentions wouldn’t be a difficult task. Gray’s blood turned ice cold.

You have no evidence, Gray reminded himself. Slow down. There are other strong and menacing men around here. This place is full of them.

His body relaxed. He needed to go home and think it through. Jacobs was under the command of Lieutenant John Lansky. Gray didn’t know him that well since Lt. Lansky had spent all of his time at Fort Gibson answering to General Ridgely. Now that Gray was also under Rigid’s command it wouldn’t seem strange that Gray was trying to form superficial relationships with Lt. Lansky’s men.

As had become their unspoken routine, Michaela met Gray at the door when he came by for her, then they went home and she cooked while he rested. His torso was starting to hurt less, except his broken ribs, those still hurt more than he’d like.

Michaela hummed quietly as she went about her work. She mixed this and stirred that. Flipped something over and scraped something from a bowl. When their meal was on the fire, she started making dough. A cloud of flour constantly surrounded her. Every so often she’d look up from her work and smile at him. He’d often wondered if she wanted to talk to him, but she never said anything and he didn’t have a single idea of what she’d like to talk about. The only women he’d talked to in recent years were prostitutes who knew nothing of how to protect themselves from their clients. He’d always purchase their time so they’d have a reprieve and while they were alone together, he’d try to convince them to take a sheath or two with them to offer to men who they might suspect had a disease. Most were appreciative for his generosity. He had a suspicion Michaela wouldn’t be quite so impressed.

***

Almost two weeks had passed since Gray had gone back to work and Michaela was on the edge of insanity.

Her father had transformed from a minor annoyance to an abrasive aggravation that insisted on spending several hours a day with the ladies in Aunt Lucille’s sitting area.

Ella asked constantly how things were going with Gray, if he was healing, if they’d worked out the problems they’d had before he’d been injured.

Mrs. Ridgely had become a cold recluse; barely speaking while she sewed and absolutely refusing to even look at Michaela.

Then there was Gray. It wasn’t that he was trying to be cold to her. But neither was he warm. Not that she should have expected him to be, she supposed. He’d always thought of her as an annoyance so why should he be excited to talk to her now? At least they weren’t fighting.

And neither was she at odds with Aunt Lucille and Allison. Which was a good thing, really it was. Whenever she felt alone or dejected, she looked to one of them for comfort.

Two days ago had been most of the men’s day off. Not Gray though. He and his men had been made to continue working while Michaela spent the day helping Aunt Lucille cook and bake. Custom at forts dictated that men never missed two reprieves in a row, so at least she could look forward to spending time with Gray during the next day off. If he didn’t sleep through it again like he had the last day he’d had off.

“Jack and Wes are here,” Mrs. Lewis announced, craning her neck to look out the little kitchen window.

Ella and Allison scrambled to put away their sewing and gather their things.

Michaela couldn’t help but grin at their obvious behavior.

“Oh dash,” Aunt Lucille exclaimed as a loud crash echoed throughout the room.

Michaela ran over to her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She frowned. “But that bottle of oil will never be the same.”

Michaela smiled at her. “Does Charles sell oil in his store?”

Aunt Lucille nodded. “Do one of you men think you could walk me by the Sutler’s store on your way home?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Wes said immediately.

Aunt Lucille wiped her hands off on her apron as she followed them from the house.

“Would you like us to walk you home?” Ella asked Michaela quietly.

“No, Gray will be coming in just a few minutes.”

Ella nodded, then shot a pointed glance at the pale-faced Sarah Ridgely and whispered, “Do you want us to wait with you?”

Grimacing, Michaela declined. “I’ll be fine. She’s not the only female capable of delivering a blood-curdling scream when in distress.”

Ella giggled. “Indeed.”

When Ella and Jack were gone, Michaela turned her attention to the broken glass on the floor. She reached for an old corn broom and began sweeping. When she’d gotten as much glass up as she could, she grabbed two towels and started mopping up the fluid. Michaela frowned. Where was Gray? He was usually later than the others, but not this late. Seeing no other choice, she took a seat in the sitting area across from Sarah.

How convenient that when she could use her father’s presence to act as a bulwark and dissolve the tension in the rom he wasn’t here. Her frown deepened. Where was he? Likely together, she thought. She sighed. That might not be such a bad thing. There was a suffocating level of bitterness between her husband and father; it would do them good to spend time together.

Speaking of...

Perhaps now was the best time for Michaela to resolve some of the tension in her own life.

She took a deep breath. “Sarah?”

Sarah looked up from where her fingers had been twirling the fraying edge of her fabric, her gray eyes glossy.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Now isn’t the time.”

Michaela recoiled at the sharpness of her tone then went to the window to watch for Gray. When she saw him, she had to restrain herself from leaping through the window.

~Chapter Twenty-Five~

“All right, boys. That’s good for today,” Gray hollered to his men a good ten minutes early.

None of them seemed too broken hearted about finishing early for the day and wasted no time going back to the barracks to drink and gamble and whatever else they did with their time.

“Mind if I help?” Gray asked, walking up to Lt. Lansky.

“Not at all. Climb on up. There’s plenty of pitch that needs spreading.”

Gray did as he was instructed. Though they were all just men working for the same government, there were still prejudices and reservations and if Gray wanted a chance to get close enough to Private Jacobs to investigate him, he first needed to prove to Lansky, his superior, that he was no threat or concern. “Say Lieutenant, how long have you been here now?”

“Two years.”

Gray nodded and started mixing the stiff pitch with a touch more vigor. “Ever think of going home?”

Lansky used his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Sometimes.”

“Better food,” Gray said.

“Bigger bed.”

“Softer,” Gray added.

“Warmer, too,” the guy said with a slight chuckle.

Gray lifted an eyebrow. “You do know that from time to time a group of women pass through to offer companionship.” He ground his teeth. He’d always been so careful to try to protect those who passed through and now he’d just as good as suggested Lansky go find his satisfaction with one.

“I’m not interested in a soiled dove.” He twisted his lips in disgust. “A man never knows what kind of disease he might get.”

Gray grinned in relief. “Partial to all of your parts, are you?”

“More than some men around here,” he said in a way that left no doubt that he was referring to Gray and his reputation to have a never-ending longing for fallen women.

“Didn’t you hear I’ve recently been reformed?” Gray dipped his brush into the bucket of pitch and started spreading it.

Lansky’s eyes widened in shock, then he visibly relaxed. “That’s right, you just got married.” He chuckled. “With General Davis as a father-in-law, I’d imagine you did make some changes to your habits,” he said with another chuckle.

“Indeed.” Gray made a few more passes with his brushes while listening to Lansky continue on about the frightening things he’d heard about the ‘Great and Fearless General Davis.’ Gray would have rather heard just about any other topic discussed, but if that’s what the man wanted to talk about and it would make Gray trust him, then Gray could nod his agreement all evening.

When the horn blew that marked the end of working hours, Gray dropped his brush back into the bucket and did his best to show some sort of interest in helping clean up. He caught Jacobs’ eye and just as quickly, the man averted his gaze. Was that a sign of guilt?

Gray pushed away the thought. He had to take this one step at a time. So far he’d discovered nothing that would help him. General Bridges could be here any day to start this trial. He needed to start finding real clues, not speculation.

Gray headed over to the Lewises’ to meet Michaela. She seemed to be enjoying herself out here, if her beaming smiles were any indication. He still didn’t know what to talk to her about while in their room, but she didn’t act to concerned with it.

They exchanged their usual pleasantries on their walk home, halted when they crested the top of the stairs only to see General Davis standing in front of their room, leaning against the door.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve decided to join you for dinner.”

Gray resisted the urge to groan.

“It won’t be ready for a while, Pa.”

“That’s all right, we can eat pie while it cooks.”

This time Gray did groan.

Michaela sent him a sympathetic smile. “I’ll make another tomorrow.”

Gray unlocked the door and waited outside while his father-in-law made his way into their home. Before Michaela could join him, Gray caught her hand to stay her. “Do you think he’d be satisfied with a serving of nuts and jerky?”

“No. But he doesn’t like my stew. Would you like for me to fix that?”

“What’s there not to like?” he asked, stunned. “Never mind. Yes. Make that.”

Inside, Michaela went about chopping vegetables and humming while she cooked.

General Davis frowned at her, but didn’t say anything. Smart man.

Gray made himself comfortable atop their bed like he always did while Michaela prepared their dinner.

“Any progress in your investigation?” General Davis asked, lowering himself into a wooden chair.

“A little. It’s been slow.”

General Davis nodded. “Same here. Since I don’t know many of the officers here I’m afraid to ask the wrong person the wrong question.” He stretched his legs out in front of him. “It sure does feel good to be back at a fort again.”

Gray’s stomach churned. What exactly had he meant by that? “May’s a wonderful month to be here. Next month it’ll start getting hot. By July you’ll long for a drink of water that doesn’t come out of the well boiling, and by August you’ll think you’re teetering on the edge of Hell.”

“Boy, if you think to scare me off, that isn’t working.”

Michaela’s soft laughter stole his attention and he sent her a hopeful smile. Well, if he couldn’t scare the man off permanently with his talk of weather to come, perhaps Michaela could scare him off at least tonight.

Which she did.

Just as she’d said, General Davis didn’t seem to enjoy her stew. It was odd really, but her father more or less picked at it for a few minutes before excusing himself.

“I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it myself,” Gray commented after the door had closed behind her father.

“I told you he didn’t like it. You should know by now that as a daughter of his, I’m never wrong,” she said with a wink.

He bent forward at the waist as far as his broken ribs (and half-bowl of stew) would allow in a mock bow. “I shall never doubt you again.”

She dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Good. See that you don’t.”

***

The next day Gray’s quest to unearth any new information regarding the supposed rape of Soft Dove was fruitless. As was the day after that. Both days he’d tried to talk to some of Lansky’s men to see if they’d let something slip. Anything would be helpful if it led him to a man who might even have an idea of who was responsible. Neither day had he gotten a chance to directly talk to Jacobs. He’d decided it might be best to talk to a few of his equals first to see what they might know. Not that it mattered a whole lot. They knew nothing and Jacobs seemed to be nowhere to be found as of late.

Unfortunately, his frustration of coming up with no leads was starting to get the better of him.

“Is something bothering you, Gray?”

Gray jumped at the sound of Michaela’s words. “No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He gave her a lopsided shrug. “Then don’t.”

“Perhaps if you tell me, I can help you think it through.” Her voice was so soft and quiet he almost gave into her.

“It’s not for you to worry about.”

“You’re still trying to chase down some elusive clue about who’s responsible for what happened to Soft Dove, aren’t you?” Michaela said easily, not bothering to look up from where she was preparing their dinner.

He couldn’t deny it. “Yes. But there doesn’t seem to be one.”

“Maybe because you’re looking for the wrong thing.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, and what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a groan.

“All right.” She carried the skillet over to the fire. “Why don’t we start from the top?”

“Michaela, we don’t need to do this.”

“Why, because you’d rather reason it out in your head while I pretend to sweep and find things to straighten that aren’t askew?”

He blinked at her. Was it possible she had been upset by his lack of chatting with her while she cooked? “Why don’t we talk about how your day was with your sister,” he hedged.

She pulled a face. “How about we not.”

“Do you not like seeing her every day?”

“No, I don’t mind.” A slow smiled spread her lips. “Whenever she starts plaguing me with questions about the two of us, I start asking her questions about her relationship with Jack just loud enough for my father to hear.”

He released a sharp bark of laughter.

“Now,” she continued. “Let’s discuss what you know and see if we can find a solution together.”

“Michaela, you—”

“I’m waiting,” she cut in with a sing-song tone.

Scowling, he lifted his hands behind his head and intertwined his fingers to make a headrest. “According to General Ridgely, Soft Dove was raped.” He grimaced as he said the word aloud. He’d thought it often enough, but to say it, and to his wife, no less.

“But you don’t believe she was.”

He closed his eyes and released a breath. “I don’t know.” He dropped his hands from behind his head and idly rubbed the scratchy bristles that covered his chin. “I don’t think she’d have been willing and with how many strong men there are around here, I think it’s possible she could have been overpowered.”

“But?”

“Well, it definitely wasn’t the night General Ridgely is claiming it was. When Soaring Eagle and Soft Dove came to make their claim, I still had a bruise on my face from when Jack’s fist collided with my face the night we went onto Cherokee land. If she’d been forced, she’d have still had the bruises, too.”

“But her skin is darker than yours,” Michaela pointed out.

“That’s true, but that also means if she had bruised, her bruise would have been darker originally, making it still somewhat visible a week later. I didn’t see any.”

“Where all did you see?” The blush that stole over her face made him smile.

“Not that I was looking too intently, but I saw enough of her to know there weren’t any,” he said evasively. He wasn’t the smartest man around, but he couldn’t imagine anything good could come from admitting he’d been given a glimpse of almost every inch of Soft Dove’s skin.

“Well, if you weren’t looking too intently, then how can you be sure?”

He grimaced. “I just am.”

“How?”

He threw his hands into the air. “I don’t know. When I first saw her sitting there I assumed she’d conceived—”

“What makes you think that?”

“She was quiet and avoiding contact with her father with her hands folded over her abdomen in a way that would suggest she was protecting her child.”

***

Michaela’s heart slammed in her chest. Hard. Gray may never fully understand what he’d just revealed about himself. Nor did she fully understand his earlier confession about being the son of a prostitute. In a world where she’d witnessed beggars rise up to importance and an entire man’s legacy crumble in a moment, she’d never harbored resentment or condemnation toward Gray for his mother’s profession. But just now, she finally understood the harder life that he’d seen.

“You know these to be symptoms from your days...”

He nodded once. That was all the confirmation it took for her to want to run to him and wrap him in her arms. She doubted he’d appreciate that, however.

“How far along do you suppose she is?”

“That I don’t know.” He twisted his lips, pursing them a fraction. “At least six weeks or they wouldn’t have known to come here about it yet, but no more than three, possibly four months, or her stomach would have started to grow round.”

What an eloquent description. She shook off the thought. “You think her pregnancy has prompted their visit.”

“Yes. She’s unmarried. I don’t imagine her tribe would be very forgiving if she’d taken a lover before she married.”

“Do you think that’s possible?”

“That she took a lover?”

She nodded.

“I’ve thought about it and I think it makes a lot of sense in one regard.” He leaned forward and turned the pillow vertical behind his back. “If she’s taken a lover from her tribe then discovered she was pregnant, she might be trying to protect both of them by blaming it on someone here.”

“You don’t think he’d just marry her to spare her the shame?”

“He might not have been in a position to make her his wife.”

“Can’t they have multiple wives?”

Gray lifted his hands into the air. “I don’t know.” He crossed his ankles and tapped the edges of his boots together. “He might be a coward and not want to admit to what he’s done. Or he might not have her father’s permission. Or it might bring less shame on her if she pretends it was a rape, then they marry and there’s no speculation on why their firstborn came so early.”

Michaela’s blood turned to ice. She’d heard of something similar once. A friend had claimed rape as a means to explain to her intended that she was no longer chaste. She hadn’t been forced, though. She’d been more than willing and when her husband finally learned the truth of it, she’d suffered dearly. Perhaps that’s what would happen here. Soft Dove or her lover could be killed if someone suspected their child was the product of an illicit love affair.

“But,” Gray continued. “There is also the repercussions of how this would hurt their entire tribe if such a lie about one of the men here were to ever come to light. Our relationship with their tribe has been stable so far, but if it made its way back to the capitol that one of our men was falsely accused of such a crime, stripped of his position and punished for it, the federal government might push them off their land or wage war in retaliation. Tensions out here can run high and I don’t think they’d want to risk that.”

“Which leads us back to the culprit being one of the men here.”

Gray nodded.

“You don’t think it’s possible that—”

“No.”

Michaela frowned. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“I didn’t need to. I already knew what you were going to say.”

“What?”

He grinned. “Something foolish.”

She reached for a towel from off the table and tossed it at him.

“You were going to suggest that she could have been conducting an affair with one of the men here.”

“That would explain no bruises.”

“I never said she didn’t have any,” he pointed out. “I just said they weren’t present the night her father brought her here.”

“So you’re saying it’s possible she was forced, but not the night they’re saying it happened?”

“That’s what I don’t know. Their English isn’t very good and I’m not familiar with their calendar, if they even keep one beyond the position of the moon. I think General Ridgely came to the assumption of when it happened because it was a convenient date to select given that Jack and I did leave here that night to go to find one of the members of their tribe.”

“No other men have ever left the fort at night?”

“Not that I know of. Only a fool would be brave enough to leave the security of the barracks in order to face a tribe of Indians and actually assault one.”

“Which supports the theory she had a lover from her own tribe.” She groaned. “But still that wouldn’t make sense that she’d bring the problem here unless they were certain they wouldn’t be found out.” She snapped her fingers. “How silly not to think of it sooner.”

“Think of what?”

“They knew you and Jack would be blamed. Either you or Jack mentioned that in your search to find Dark Moon that you’d run into a hunting party. When they returned to their tribe—”

“They found their opportunity to blame it on someone from our fort,” Gray finished with her, a stoic expression on his face.

Michaela got up to flip their beefsteaks. When she sat back down, Gray still looked to be lost in thought. She hid her smile. “You know, you could have saved yourself a lot of time spent worrying about this had you just talked to me sooner.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

~Chapter Twenty-Six~

Gray awoke the next morning earlier than he could remember waking in a long time. Michaela’s words had made a lot of sense. And not just her theory on what happened with Soft Dove. Had he spoken to her sooner and talked things out, he’d have had an easier time of it these past days.

But there was still one niggle. Why had Jacobs sought him out to speak to him that day he’d walked in on Mrs. Ridgely and now he didn’t want to be within fifteen feet of Gray? Today was his day off and anything short of a colossal injury to either of them, Gray intended to seek the man out and get some sort of answer from him.

As quietly as he could, Gray built a small fire and placed the small iron water pot on top of it. Michaela had a cup of coffee waiting for him every morning when he woke. Today he’d like to do the same for her. It wasn’t much, but it was the least he could do to start showing his appreciation for everything she’d done for him.

“Do you prefer apples or pears?” he asked when she sat up.

Michaela stared at him as if he’d just grown a second head. “For what?”

“To eat. I don’t have to work today so I thought we’d have breakfast before you go over to spend the day with Mrs. Lewis.”

“Oh.” She climbed out of bed and joined him at the table. She picked up the green pear in the center of the table and took a bite. “Will I see you before the rounders game?”

“Probably not.” He poured more coffee into his cup to keep his attention on anything other than the way Michaela’s nightgown clung to her womanly curves. Usually by the time he got up, she was already dressed for the day. “I don’t think I’ll be playing today. I have a few errands.”

“Errands?”

“Errands.”

A shadow passed over her face, but was gone a second later. “I suppose I’ll bake a few pies today.” She took another bite. “I do feel bad for having my father over the other night only to serve him his least favorite meal and be sent home without dessert.”

“Are you always this thoughtful to those you think you’ve done wrong?”

“No. Just those I love.”

***

Gray tamped down the tinge of guilt he had about leaving Michaela to her own devices while he went in search of Jacobs. As soon as he spoke with the man he’d let it be. In his mind he realized that Jacobs likely only wanted Gray to get him out of working at the new barracks. But it was the unsettling feeling of how the man treated Gray now that he, too, was working down there.

It had been three hours since he’d begun his search for Jacobs and still nothing. He might have to go to the rounders game later today after all. Surely Jacobs would be there for that. To miss it would be unheard of.

He rounded the stables and froze.

Not ten feet away stood Jack and Ella and Michaela.

“You’ll like Sundance,” Jack said to Michaela, leading a tall chestnut mare toward her. “She’s a sweet horse.”

Michaela looked panicked. “No. I don’t think I will.”

“Are you sure? She’s very gentle.” He lifted his hand and rubbed the horse’s nose with his knuckles. “See, she won’t hurt you.”

Michaela shook her head.

Jack cast a fleeting glance to Ella who bit her lip. “She’s afraid of horses.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Jack agreed. He turned back to Michaela. “You don’t have to be afraid of this one. She wouldn’t hurt anybody.”

“I have an idea,” Ella said. “Why don’t I ride Pablo by myself and the two of you can ride on Sundance?”

Gray wasn’t sure who looked more horrified at the suggestion: Jack, Michaela or possibly himself.

Michaela said something in response, but Gray couldn’t hear her over the blood thundering in his ears. Jack and Michaela share a horse. Absolutely not! Michaela was his wife—if anyone was to be sharing a horse with her, it’d be him.

Without realizing it, his feet had carried him over to the trio and before he knew what he was saying or had given it enough thought to make it coherent, said, “Thank you for offering to take Michaela with you on your ride, but she has other plans.” He leveled a stare on Jack and took Sundance’s reins from his friend. “With me.”

“I thought you had errands,” Michaela said bluntly after Jack and Ella mounted the horse they shared and were out of earshot.

“I do and one is to take my wife on a horse ride.”

“But I don’t like horses,” she protested.

He laughed. “You might have fooled them, but I remember you being quite content to being atop a horse.”

“That was before I fell.”

His grin faded. “You fell? When?”

“The night I fled the brothel.”

All humor fled from him in that instant and his muscles grew tense. “Have you not been on one at all since then?”

“No.”

He cleared his throat. “Would you like to try?”

***

No! No! No! “I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure?”

She was sure. Being carelessly thrown off and left unconscious on the cold ground after hitting her head on a rock, made her more than sure she didn’t wish to get on a horse.

“Come here,” he commanded gently.

She took a step backwards.

The corner of his lips tipped up and he reached for her hand. “Just touch her.”

She yanked her hand away. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” His voice was soft and soothing. He reached for her trembling hand. “Just touch her hair.”

Michaela curled her fingers in, but couldn’t pull her hand from his firm grasp.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Michaela, and neither is Sundance.” He moved her hand closer to the horse, panic building in her chest. “Just touch her nose.”

“If I touch her will you take me back?”

“Take you back where?”

“To my father’s room?”

He knit his brows. “Why would you go there?”

“Aunt Lucille has a terrible stomach ailment and wanted a bit of privacy. Wes and Allison are off together somewhere. Sarah Ridgely and I aren’t speaking much these days, so I didn’t want to go over there. That only left going home or going to see my father. I was on my way to the barracks when I ran into Jack and Ella and they invited me to spend the rest of the morning with them.”

“And what of me?”

“What about you? You said you didn’t have time—” She broke off. “If I touch her, will you let me go, please?”

Wordlessly, Gray brought her ungloved hand closer to the horse.

Tension knotted every muscle in her body. She knew it wasn’t this particular horse that’d thrown her, but there wasn’t room for logic in her mind right now. Not when her knuckles were inching ever closer to the brute. “Please, Gray.”

Gray remained quiet as he touched her knuckles to the soft hair on Sundance’s nose. “See, she’s not so bad.”

Michaela went numb.

“Touch her with your fingertips,” Gray murmured. When she didn’t move to unfurl her fingers, Gray reached up the hand that held the reins and started to pry her fingers out of the fist she held. “See? She’s a sweet girl.” He moved her hand to where her entire palm was flat against Sundance.

Michaela opened and closed her mouth, but no words would come out.

“Rub up between her ears,” he encouraged.

She let out a barely audible squeak.

He seemed unaffected and glided her hand first up between Sundance’s ears, then to her mane and along her neck. “Are you ready to put your other hand on her, too?”

“No,” Michaela croaked.

“She won’t hurt you,” Gray reminded her. He moved so he was standing between her and Sundance’s legs. “I want you to trust her, that’s all.”

Reluctantly, she lifted her other hand up to rub Sundance’s side. Jack had put a saddle on her earlier—not that Michaela had any inclination to ride her.

“How did you fall?”

“He bucked,” Michaela choked.

“Were you hurt or just startled?”

“Both.”

He guided her hands along Sundance’s side. “Did you steal a horse, Michaela,” he asked with a devilish grin.

“No. Why would I have done that?”

“To escape your father.” He laughed at her telling expression. That was exactly what she was doing. She was so upset at Gray leaving her side that night the last thing she wanted to do was be scolded by her father so she’d run from the brothel, grabbed the horse she and Gray and ridden earlier and made for the fort. “I don’t imagine a military horse would have spooked like that,” Gray continued. “They’re around all those guns and cannons and such.”

“Guns and cannons are no comparison to a sobbing, heartbroken young lady,” she said, forcing a wobbly smile. “I likely gave poor Abbacus the scare of his life.”

“Or annoyed him,” Gray retorted.

She choked on a giggle. “That’s likely.”

Gray finished making her touch every inch of horseflesh on this side of Sundance, then slowly removed her hands. She wondered if he planned to make her do the same on the other side. Surely if he’d meant to continue torturing her, he’d have just had her continue on once she reached the horse’s rump.

“How about if you try getting on her now?”

Michaela gaped at him. “How about if you spend the afternoon in a corset and petticoats?”

“Oh, it can’t be that bad. By your own admission, it’s horses who should be scared of you, not you scared of them.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Come now, you know as well as I do that she’s not scared of you.” He placed his hand on the small of her back, a gesture that nearly dissolved her. “I’ll be right here. Nothing will happen.”

“You’re right nothing will happen, I’m not getting on Sundance.”

“Please?”

“No.”

He gently massaged her lower back. “What will it take to get you to try? A new gown?”

“Are you going to sew it?”

“I could if you wanted me to.”

She sputtered with laughter. “And would I want you to make it? Other than for the entertainment of watching you do it, that is.”

“That depends. Can you fashion a tablecloth to fit like a skirt?”

“No, but I’m sure Allison can.”

“I’m sure she can, too.” He urged her to take a step forward. “No need to worry though—my skills are better than Allison’s.”

Michaela wouldn’t be so rude as to voice it aloud, but she had a suspicion that just about anyone’s skills with a needle and thread were superior to Allison’s.

“And—” he put his hands on her waist— “I’m fairly confident that I can out-sew your sister, too.”

She didn’t believe that for a second, but all possibility of saying so dissolved when Gray lifted her up and put her on top of Sundance in one quick, fluid motion.

Terror came over her. Involuntarily, she made a strangled shriek as she bent forward to lower her face as close to the horse’s neck as possible and wiggle down.

“Be still,” Gray said soothingly. He placed one strong hand on her back and the other rubbing Sundance’s neck. “Stop fidgeting before you fall.”

“I can’t help it,” she cried. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. Why did he have to be so high handed as to just toss her up onto a horse as if her fears were merely nothing? She gasped for air.

“I have you,” Gray whispered in her ear, both of his strong arms wrapping around her. When had he joined her on the horse? “Breathe. That’s it take deep breaths. You’re all right. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Remember the last time we rode together? You let down your hair and let the wind blow through it until it was a tangled mess. You were safe then and I’ll keep you safe this time, too. Just breathe.”

Gray’s soothing words fell over her like a soft caress, calming her frayed nerves. Slowly she sat up, flushing with mortification at the scene she’d just created.

“Are you ready to ride?”

Did she have a choice? “Not too fast.”

“Not too fast,” he agreed. He nudged Sundance to walk forward.

Michaela held her breath and clenched her hands into fists.

“You’re all right. I’m still here.” Gray punctuated his words with a gentle squeeze of his arms around her midsection.

Gray steered Sundance away from the barracks and out into the open field.

“Please, don’t make her run.” She hated the sound of desperation in her voice.

Thankfully, he heeded her plea and kept Sundance at a nice, steady, slow pace. He eased her to lean back against him. “See, you’re safe. We’ll just go to the riverbank. It’s not too far away.”

She prayed it wasn’t. She didn’t think her nerves could take much more.

Keeping his right arm wrapped around her and holding onto the reins in front of her, he brought his left hand up to her shoulder and kneaded her knotted muscle. “So tense.” He rubbed his thumb just above her shoulder blade. “Relax.”

“I’m going to hold you to making that dress you promised,” she said, lowering her eyelids and giving into his touch.

“You just pick the color,” he murmured. His lips were so close she could almost feel them against the sensitive skin on the shell of her ear.

Michaela sagged against her husband’s sturdy body as he massaged her tension away.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered.

She obeyed, in part. Opening her right eye just a little. Something bright and sparkling ahead caught her attention and excitement coursed through her. “Is that the river?”

“Well, it certainly isn’t the ocean.”

She wiggled against him, careful not to hurt him. “You always did have a penchant for sarcasm.”

“How you’d know that, I wouldn’t know.”

“Neither do you want to.” Surely he’d heard about her spying on him at Fort Henry, not that she wanted to remind him of that.

Gray slowed Sundance to a stop and climbed down before helping Michaela dismount, then led her down to the running water.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such an oddly-colored river.” It looked an odd mixture of green and gray, but not being fully one or the other.

“Likely not.” He stepped over a fallen branch. “They call it the Verdigris because of its coloring.”

“It’s still pretty,” she commented.

“Would you like to sit for a while, then?”

“If you don’t mind. I’d hate for you to not complete your errands.”

His lips thinned. “You’re my only errand today.”

***

Gray prayed that was the right thing to say. He had no idea she’d take it so hard that he wouldn’t be able to spend the day with her. Not that he minded being around her. He just wanted to speak to Jacobs and put his worries to rest.

“You don’t have to spend the day with me, you know,” she said, sinking to the ground.

He waited while she straightened her skirts then joined her on the grass. “And miss an opportunity to steal a kiss? Never.” The look she gave him made him wish he could take it back. He had no right to kiss her or encourage her to think he would.

“What makes you think I’d let you?”

Was that a challenge? “Don’t play games with a man, Michaela. You might not like the result.”

She laughed. “You don’t scare me.” As if to prove her point, she kicked off her slippers and leaned her head back.

“Are those the only shoes you brought on your trip?”

“I hadn’t intended to stay,” she reminded him.

“Right.” He’d have to ask Charles to order her a pair of shoes more suitable for life at the fort. “Is there anything else you didn’t bring that you need?”

“No. I’m versatile.”

He grinned. “Spoken like a real general’s daughter.” He reached over to her and pulled a piece of grass from her hair. With it, a few strands pulled loose from the side of her bun. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.” She reached up to fix it and for the second time that day, his body acted independent of his brain and he covered her hand with his, stopping her.

“Don’t.”

She stilled.

Without explanation to her, or himself, he moved behind her. “I liked it when it was down this morning.”

“Oh.”

Her lack of protest or excuse spurred him on and he brought his hands up to her hair, seeking pins. With deliberate slowness he removed one pin, then another, and another. Her perfectly pinned upsweep grew looser with each pin he removed until finally it all tumbled down around his hands. It was odd really, but Gray suddenly was overcome with the same heart-racing panic that had taken hold of Michaela when she’d been around Sundance. His experience with being affectionate with women was not what he’d have the world believe and for as odd as it might seem, he was just as on edge with uncertainty about running his fingers through her hair as he’d been while undressing her on their wedding night.

He swallowed and slowly combed his fingers through her hair. “You have beautiful hair.” You have beautiful hair? Was that not the stupidest thing he could have said? He nearly groaned at his own stupidity, but the feel of her silky locks surrounding his fingers made it impossible for him to make any noise.

His fingers delved deeper into the thick mass of her auburn hair until he reached her scalp. He carefully scratched and massaged her skin as he moved his hands over her scalp, fluffing her hair between his fingers. She made a sigh of contentment that sent a thrill flying through him.

“You like this?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“So much hair, I imagine it feels heavy up on top of your head all day.”

“Mmmhmm.”

He inhaled the scent of lilacs that permeated her hair. His fingers brushed a hard bump on the right side of her head close to her hairline.

“Is that from when you fell off Abbacus?”

“Yes. I hit my head on a rock.”

He flinched on her behalf. “I’m sorry.” He lowered his lashes. “I shouldn’t have left you that way. I should have explained to your father where we’d been.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I was too concerned about how badly my mother was injured.”

“You were only sixteen and had no romantic interest in me,” she pointed out. “It would only stand reason you’d want to go be by your mother’s side.”

Emotion warred within him. Since when had she become the more logical of the two about that night? Wasn’t it only a few days ago that he was the one who’d used that very reason as an explanation for walking away? How strange neither of them said it the same way as they did before. “She died only an hour later.” He didn’t know why he thought she needed to know that, but it served as a distraction from where his thoughts had been going.

“I know,” Michaela said, her words barely audible. “She didn’t deserve that.”

“No, she didn’t,” Gray agreed. The former butcher, turned aspiring physician who’d come to her bedside had recorded her death as natural causes. Of course he would, it wouldn’t do for word to get out that one of Dixon’s girls died from injuries brought on by being brutally attacked. He swallowed down the bile that had just risen in his throat. “We don’t need to talk about this.”

“It’s all right. I don’t mind.”

“Thank you for saying so, but we don’t need to.” He gave her scalp a little scratch to get her attention. “I may know more about female ailments than most and even know how to sew due to a childhood spent in the upstairs of a brothel, but I don’t know much else about women, except that they probably don’t enjoy speaking of their deceased mother-in-laws a great deal.”

“I promise I don’t mind,” she protested.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, “let me explain it another way. Were the roles reversed, I certainly wouldn’t want to keep discussing your father when there are far better things we could be doing.”

“Like what?”

“Like this—” He lifted her hair up to catch her unawares, then moved his face around and pressed his lips to hers.

~Chapter Twenty-Seven~

Michaela’s heart skipped a beat.

Gray had just kissed her. Willingly.

“I see,” she forced.

He grinned, not a hint of apology in his handsome face. “See, wouldn’t you say that was better than talking.”

“I wouldn’t say better,” she hedged. “Different, perhaps, but not better.”

He lifted his brows. “Well, if you don’t like kisses, then—”

“Oh, stop,” she said, shaking her head. She gave him her best attempt at a look of disapproval. “Sometimes it’s good to talk.”

Gray scowled. “When?”

“Last night comes to mind.”

“You’ve made your point.” He shifted so she was firmly in the V of his legs with her back pressed against his chest and abdomen then wrapped his arms around her, leaving her no option to scoot away. Not that she minded. “So you do like to talk.”

She wasn’t sure if his words were a statement or a question. “Of course. We’re married. I think it would be prudent that we talk.”

“Prudent,” he repeated.

Well, she couldn’t come out and tell him she enjoyed talking to him, he might get a swollen head. “Prudent might not have been the right word...”

Silence engulfed them.

“Is there something we need to talk about?”

Her eyes dropped to where his hands rested on her abdomen. Was he asking if she suspected anything? Her face burned in a second. It had only been two weeks; he of all people should know it was too early to tell. “No. I—I just like it when we talk,” she admitted.

“You do?” His hollow tone made her want to scamper away as fast as possible. He tightened his arms, keeping her there. “I don’t know what to say,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to talk about.”

His admission took all the starch out of her. “We don’t always have to talk about things that are of the utmost importance. Mundane conversation isn’t really mundane at all.” She heard him smile behind her.

“All right, be honest. Do you like our curtains?”

“Our curtains?” What was he talking about?

“Yes, do you like our curtains?”

“I suppose so...”

“Good. I didn’t like the one that was already hung over the back window and I chose those from the extras in store room, but there might be a new set coming soon.”

“Really?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He moved his hands to her arms and idly traced mindless patterns on her skin. “Do you prefer beefsteaks or salt pork?”

“Beefsteak. You?”

“Doesn’t matter to me as long as you cook it.”

“So then you’d eat dirt?”

“If you cook it, I’ll eat it.” He moved his hands up to rest in the crook of her elbow, brushing his thumbs back and forth on the outer part of her upper arm. “Sunrise or sunset?”

“Rise.”

“Summer or winter?”

“Summer.”

“Roses or tulips?”

“Tulips.”

“Stockings or bare feet?”

She hesitated. “Depends.”

“I’ll accept that.” He continued gently stroking her arm, his touch searing her skin. “Blackberries or blueberries?”

“Strawberries.”

He nudged her thigh with his knee. “That wasn’t an option, Mrs. Montgomery.”

“Blackberries,” she said, grimacing. She’d never know why, but she hated both of those berries.

“Pie or cake.”

“Cake.”

“Then why do you make so many pies?”

“Because you seem to like them.”

“I’m sure I’d love your cake, too.”

“Is it my turn to ask questions now?”

“No. I have a few more.” He edged closer to her, if such a thing were possible. “Spiders or snakes?”

She shuddered. “Neither and I mean it.”

He chuckled. “Pick one.”

“A spider. At least I can smash it.”

His chest rumbled with another chuckle. “Horseback or carriage?”

“Carriage,” she said without hesitancy.

“Wes or Jack.”

She dropped her jaw in half-feigned outrage and disbelief and twisted her neck and upper body around enough so she could see his handsome, grinning face. “I can’t answer that.”

“Yes, you can,” he goaded.

“Jack. He’s my brother-in-law.”

“So you’d choose him by default,” he surmised, still grinning.

No, I’d choose you, you fool. She started to turn back around but froze, both of their eyes dropping down to where Gray’s hand now rested on her arm with his entire palm pressing right against her breast. They’d both been so caught up in the moment and her reaction to his provoking answer neither had noticed the new position of their bodies when she twisted in his hold.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, flushing a violent crimson and moving his hand away.

She turned back to the way she’d been sitting before, uncertain. His reaction had seemed a little extreme. “It was just an accident.”

“I should have been more careful.” His hoarse words made her heart hurt and before she could convince herself to just let this awkward moment pass, she reached for both of his hands and placed them squarely on her full breasts.

“Now you don’t have to be.” Her blood pounded loudly in her ears at her own bravery, mixing with the tingles that shot through her body from where his hands covered her swollen breasts. What had she just done? She dropped her hands, his frozen where she’d put them, a feather-light touch.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he explained, lowering his hands to her abdomen.

“You weren’t.” A new sense of understanding came over her as a memory of that horrific night flashed in her mind. She closed her eyes and a newer memory took hold: their wedding night. He’d been very careful with her. He hadn’t asked her to take off her chemise nor had he touched her very much, especially not her breasts. In fact, it almost seemed as if he’d taken great care not to touch her there. She frowned. “Gray, do you not like breasts?”

Gray developed an extreme coughing fit. “Of all the questions in the world to ask me, that’s the first one you chose?”

Screwing up her determination, and sending up a silent prayer of thanksgiving her back was to him, she said, “I won’t tell anyone that you don’t, I just want to know.”

“Michaela, I’ve never met a man who didn’t.”

“So you do like them, you’re just afraid of hurting me,” she asked for confirmation.

He sighed. “Can we speak of something else, please?”

“No. You made me answer your questions, no matter how asinine, you can answer mine.”

A moment passed. “You’re correct.”

“You won’t hurt me, I promise,” she said, matching his low tone. She took a deep breath and moved his hands again. Had anyone ever told her she’d be placing Gray’s hands on her breasts, she’d have told them they were mad. “It’s all right. You’re not hurting me now.”

The muscles in his arms tensed. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She resisted the urge to sigh in aggravation. “You’re not and you won’t as long as you’re gentle.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he whispered, giving her a hesitant squeeze.

She bit her lip to keep from sighing, this time in satisfaction at the way her traitorous body reacted to his touch. She shut her eyes and leaned her head back to rest on his shoulder, shamelessly offering him full access to do whatever he’d like with her breasts.

His touch grew bolder, more daring as he molded and shaped her breasts through the fabric of her gown. Beneath his hands her breasts swelled and the tips hardened until she thought she might embarrass herself by bursting from her gown. Her breathing grew labored but she didn’t mind; Gray’s was just as heavy.

“May I?” His words seemed almost strained. He gave the tie at the top of her gown a little pull.

She swallowed and looked up into his blue-green eyes. They were a little darker than usual and very intent, the way she imagined hers to be as well. “Yes.”

Gray slipped loose the knot in the bow that tied at the top of her gown, then moved to the buttons that went down her bodice. With a torturous slowness, he unbuttoned the first five of them. The pale blue fabric gaped, offering the world an unobstructed view of her lace-rimmed chemise.

She held her breath in anticipation of Gray sliding his hands inside her gown, and was startled a little when he didn’t. His fingers gripped the fabric of her dress up at her shoulders and slid it down, uncovering her shoulders. When he’d moved the top of her gown down her arms to his satisfaction, he took hold of the straps of her chemise and lowered them, baring her breasts.

She let out a nervous squeak and tried to at least pull her chemise back up. Maybe he was right and this wasn’t a good idea.

“Nobody can see,” he said thickly in her ear. “I promise it’s just us out here.”

That did little to comfort her. She opened her mouth to protest, but her breath was suddenly taken away when his large, tanned hands covered her breasts. His breathing became labored again and he bent his head to look over her shoulder to where his hands were caressing her. He squeezed them once more and moved to cup them, his thumb brushing her hardened nipples.

She sucked in a breath and he froze.

“Did I hurt you?” The ragged emotion in his voice would have made her melt in his arms if she hadn’t already.

“No.”

“You’ll tell me—” he took a hard swallow— “if I do?”

She nodded and went back to letting him touch her, no longer caring what he might think of her when she reacted to him.

A moment or two later his hands stopped their exploration and delicious torment and started making a slow path down her sides.

“That night that we...did you?”

She looked at him in confusion. She had absolutely no idea what he was speaking about.

He swallowed audibly “I didn’t think so.”

“Wh—” Her question turned into a sound of alarm when Gray wiggled out from behind her and eased her onto her back.

“Relax,” he whispered, dropping a kiss near her ear.

She tried to do as he’d said, but it was hard to relax when one was half-naked lying on the ground. Gray lay on his side next to her, staring shamelessly at her bare breasts. A measure of female pride shot through her that she could captivate him so.

He propped his head up on his right hand, his elbow digging into the ground. His face looked tense, rigid. He reached forward with his free hand and trailed his fingertips from the side of her far breast, across the top, to the valley between them, then over the other before slowly inching his way day down her side.

She cast him a curious look, but his head was turned down, looking in the direction of her waist. His hand reached her hip and Gray scooted his whole body further down, his hand still moving lower. He paused and grabbed up two large fistfuls of her full skirts, pulling them off to the side and out of the way. Then his hand was on the inside of her calf. She tensed. “Gray?”

“I won’t hurt you,” he said.

She already knew that, what she wanted to know was what he was doing. Paying no mind to her curiosity, he glided his hand up her calf and to her thigh. “Gray,” she choked, closing her legs together.

He stilled his hand and looked up at her with a hooded gaze. He let his eyes travel down to her breasts, a flash of desire flickering in them. Gray removed his hand from beneath her skirt and rearranged her skirts to where the hem came up to her mid-thigh. He urged her to spread her knees just a little then came to kneel between them like he had on their wedding night.

An unnameable excitement came over her then. Did he intend to... Now? Here? She searched his face. He gave nothing away about his intentions.

Then it happened. With a whinny from Sundance, his face began to change with a myriad of shadows crossing it. The intense look that had filled his eyes quickly faded to something she didn’t recognize with wide eyes and tight lips.

She suddenly felt very cold and vulnerable and her hands sought to cover herself.

Abruptly, Gray stood and turned his back to her. She sat up and scrambled to make herself decent, shame for her wanton behavior washing over her like waterfall.

***

Gray could hardly catch his breath. What had he just done? They were outside where anyone could see them and he’d just made her vulnerable all for the sake of his own desires.

He cast a glance over his shoulder to see if she was ready to return. She was. Good because when neither of them had been paying attention the sun had begun making its journey down the western sky.

Gray offered her his best attempt at an apologetic smile and hoisted her up onto the Sundance’s back, unable to make eye contact with her.

She, for her part, reached for the reins. “I’ll ride her. You can walk.”

Stunned, he froze and tightened his hold on the reins. “Have you gotten past your fear of horses?”

“No, but my fear of horses doesn’t compare with the—” She broke off and reached for the reins again.

“No. I won’t have you getting yourself hurt because you’re angry with me.”

Her pink cheeks turned red. “Give me the reins, Gray. I think it’s best if we don’t share a mount.”

“I agree.” And he did. He needed to put as much distance between himself and her as he could and not having her in his lap seemed like a good place to start. “But I’m not going to let you endanger yourself. I’ll hold the reins and walk beside you.”

Her jaw dropped, then she closed her mouth with an audible snap of her teeth and turned to face the other direction, her hands clenched into nervous fists in her lap.

“Michaela.” He took a deep breath. It did nothing to calm the turmoil brewing inside of him. “I didn’t intend to upset you. I just looked down and—and—and—” Words failed him. “You don’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have let it go so far.”

“So far?”

He nodded, his mouth unable to form the right word. He looked over to the trees. “I should have listened to your protests about being outside. Instead, I kept pushing you and I’m sorry. I should have waited until we were alone in our room.”

She turned her head to face him. “So you do intend to—” she dropped her voice to a whisper— “make love with me?”

He felt his eyes flare wide and he was powerless to stop them. “No.” He swallowed uncomfortably past the lump in his throat, but she deserved an answer and he needed to give it to her. “I merely meant to offer you the same fulfillment I had.”

Her face clouded with confusion.

“On our wedding night, I found satisfaction and you didn’t. I wanted to give you the same experience.” The tips of his ears burned as he spoke those words, but it didn’t make them any less true.

“So you did plan to bed me,” she said again.

“No.” He raked his hand through his hair. Damn his guilt and morals, if he’d have just continued on they wouldn’t be having this conversation. “Both men and women are capable of finding satisfaction both through the act...or separately. My intention was to help you find yours without my breaking my earlier promise to you.” He forced himself to meet her gaze. “Nothing has changed. I cannot bed you.”

Fire flashed in her emerald eyes. “I see and so to pass the time, you thought it was best to placate my wanton ways by—by—offering me one-sided pleasure?”

“One-sided?” He scoffed. “That’s all it was on our wedding night, wasn’t it? I see nothing wrong with trying to even the score for you, but if you aren’t interested in what I can offer you—” he shrugged carelessly— “then who am I to care.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line.  “How would you know whether I was satisfied or not?”

He assumed the sharpness of her words was a product of her embarrassment at his bitter words and almost apologized to her again. Almost.

“I just know and you’ll have to trust me. If you’d reached fulfillment, you and I would both know it.”

Her confused and peeved expression remained in place, accented by a fierce blush. “Perhaps I did and you were too caught up in your own needs to have noticed.”

He deserved that. He’d been unnecessarily unkind to her after she’d responded to his unintended insinuation that she was a shameless wanton and all but proclaiming, yet again, that he didn’t love her. He did appreciate her, though, and had no reservations about showing her that she was appreciated. But love and appreciation were not the same thing.

Without another word between them, they made their way back to the barracks, with Michaela sitting high atop Sundance’s back, clenching her hands as if she held some sort of invisible lifeline and Gray walking right beside them, holding the reins.

When they reached the stables, the silence continued as Gray helped his wife dismount then put Sundance in her stall.

Tension crackled between them as they walked back to their room. Words of apology ran through his head. But why should he apologize? He didn’t love her and he couldn’t change that. He didn’t know how long it would take or if it’d ever happen, but until it did, he wouldn’t go back on his word to her. He owed that to himself and most of all, her.

All thoughts of apologies and honoring his word faded when he opened the door to their room and saw a piece of folded paper on the floor with a single word: GRAY.

He didn’t recognize the handwriting and woodenly bent to pick up the paper. He unfolded it and his heart stood still.

MEET ME IN THE SOUTHWEST BLOCKHOUSE AT 9:30 PM. I’LL BE WAITING. COME ALONE AND DON’T BE SEEN.

Gray dropped the unsigned note, panic building in his chest. Jacobs. That’s the only person who could have written such a missive. He’d recognize the pen of anyone else who’d have reason to address him so informally. Furthermore, Jacobs had to have known Gray had been trying to talk to him as of late. But why did they have to meet in secret? The idea of being alone with the man made his skin prickle. For all he knew this could be some sort of ambush. Why, he didn’t know, but he didn’t like it.

“Michaela, I think it might be a good idea if we go check on Mrs. Lewis and see if she needs some soup.”

If she thought there was something odd about his statement, she didn’t say so.

~Chapter Twenty-Eight~

Michaela was still smarting over the sting of their biting words toward each other when she arrived at the Lewises’.

She was rather surprised to find Ella and Allison already there, tending to Aunt Lucille. Uncle George, she was informed, had quarantined himself off in his office to finish some paperwork.

She didn’t think her help was needed, unfortunately her husband either didn’t notice or didn’t care that others were already here tending to Aunt Lucille when he left just as quickly as he’d arrived.

“Where are Wes and Jack?”

“Pa sent Jack on some fool errand,” Ella said with a slight frown.

“And Wes went with him.”

Michaela’s weak smile grew. That was just like Pa. It had been four years since he’d retired and yet he was still commanding people about.

She walked over to the worktable and grabbed a pot. With nothing else to do, she might as well heed Gray’s suggestion and make a pot of soup.

A little while later the soup was on the stove to boil and Mrs. Lewis was resting. Michaela gently placed a hand on Mrs. Lewis' forehead. No fever, that was good. She was likely feeling better.

She removed her hand and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek before joining Allison and Ella in the sitting area.

“I take it you rode Sundance,” Ella commented.

“What makes you say that?”

“Your hair looks nothing like it did this morning.”

Instinctively, Michaela’s hands went up to her hair. After Gray had turned away from her and she’d righted her gown, she tried in vain to get her hair into some semblance of a style. “Since when did you start memorizing my hairstyles?”

Ella stared at her then a silly grin came over her lips. “Oh, Michaela!”

Michaela and Allison exchanged looks. “What are you talking about?” she asked her sister.

“I know why your hair is like that.” She waved her hand through the air. “Jack likes to touch my hair, too.”

Michaela gaped at her sister. “That’s not—” She broke off. What was the point of lying? “We didn’t...you know...if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Allison patted her forearm. “Give him time,” she murmured, her brown eyes full of compassion and understanding.

Michaela almost snorted. “I don’t think there is any amount of time that will undo what’s happened now.”

“Oh?”

Sighing, Michaela proceeded to give them a condensed version of the day’s events. “When we were out at the river alone, he started showing signs of interest.” She swallowed. “Undressing me and touching me and such. Then abruptly he stopped and pulled away. I asked what was wrong and before I knew it we were quarreling and in my mortification at the situation, I said the first thing I could think of, which was to insult his masculine ability.”

Silence filled the room. She’d expected nothing less.

Michaela fell back against the backrest of the settee. “I know. I’m a horrible, horrible person.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Allison said soothingly.

“She’s right,” Ella agreed. “Just cut the horribles in half.” She flashed her sister a wry smile to show she was teasing. “Are you sure it’s as bad as you think?”

Michaela nodded. “I think so.”

“I don’t,” Allison said.

“How is that?”

Allison cast a hesitant glance over toward Ella, and at Michaela’s nod of approval, Allison continued. “If he was honest enough with you to say he wouldn’t share intimacies with you because he doesn’t love you, then I don’t see how he could possibly hold this against you.” She smoothed her hands over her skirts. “I think Gray knows you said that because you were embarrassed. I’d have been embarrassed too, had that happened to me. He isn’t so unfeeling as to not know that.”

“I agree,” Ella said, an unasked question stamped on her face. “I didn’t know that he’d told you earlier that he wasn’t interested in a physical relationship with you. I’m assuming that was the argument you two had that I didn’t hear.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. But what is my concern is your happiness and I really do agree with Allison. Gray doesn’t seem the sort to hold a grudge or make a hasty decision.”

Michaela let out a shaky laugh. Gray not hold a grudge? If only they knew how much he hated her father.

Allison touched Michaela’s arm again, catching her attention. “Michaela, I think he already knows you didn’t mean what you said, but if you think this will leave a lasting strain, then tell him the truth of your words and that you said them because he’d hurt your feelings and made you feel cheap.”

“I don’t think I can say that,” she said, frowning. “That only proves his accusation that I’m a light skirt who is always willing to jump in bed with him.”

Ella gasped. “He said that?”

“Not in so many words, but it was his meaning.”

“Are you sure?” Allison questioned. “Remember our earlier conversation? Sometimes what Gray says and what he actually means aren’t the same.”

Another round of mortification swept over her. She couldn’t further explain her situation to them. Not if she still wanted to be able to look them in the eyes again. “He didn’t say that, I inferred it.” Knowing her blush was revealing more to them than she wanted to admit made her flush even more. “But it wasn’t just today. I’m the one who confronted him last time about why he had no such interest in me. And then with what happened today, he must think I’m a loose woman.”

Ella reached forward and patted her knee. “Then you need to show him that you’re not.”

“Pardon? I never said I was.”

“I know that, but if you think he suspects that you are, then maybe you need to let him know that you’re not. Tease him and make him want you.”

“That won’t work,” a new voice said, startling all three of them.

Michaela sat frozen on her settee while both Allison and Ella greeted Sarah, who said something about her husband having to do something in one of the watchtowers later tonight as an explanation of why she was here. Michaela didn’t really listen; she just wasn’t interested.

“Your husbands are coming this way,” Michaela heard Sarah say.

Michaela knew better than to believe Sarah was including Gray in her statement.

A moment later Jack and Wes had arrived and another moment later the four left, leaving Michaela and Sarah alone with a sleeping Aunt Lucille.

“Would you like some tea?” Michaela forced a smile that she imagined looked more like a grimace.

“No.” Sarah sat down on the sofa with not a hint of grace. Why had she even come if she just intended to be unpleasant? It wasn’t as if Sarah was making many friends these days. Michaela had suspected the only reason Ella and Allison spoke to her was to keep peace around here or for the sakes of their husband’s jobs since General Ridgely ultimately ran the fort.

Michaela didn’t know what she’d ever done to upset the woman, if anyone should be upset it should be Michaela for Sarah’s bold claim to having had an affair with her husband. Not that it was of any importance; the feeling of dislike was mutual between them.

Michaela took her time to make herself a cup of tea then when it wasn’t avoidable any longer, she took a seat across from Sarah to wait for Gray to do whatever it was he was doing and come back for her. If she weren’t afraid of what might happen to her if spotted walking alone through the barracks, she’d walk back to her room alone. The tension in the room was that uncomfortable.

“Don’t tease him,” Sarah said at last, her voice so soft it was barely audible.

“Excuse me?”

“Your husband. Don’t tease him.” Sarah crossed her arms and chafed her upper arms with her opposite palms. “I heard part of your earlier conversation when I came in and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to tease him by leading him on then stopping things.” She lifted a hand as if to stop Michaela’s protest. “I know that’s not exactly what was suggested to you, but it goes in the same line of reasoning to make him think you either don’t want him or make him want you and then don’t follow through. Neither are good ideas.”

“And you speak from experience?” Michaela winced. She didn’t mean to seem so unkind.

“Yes.” Sarah let out a heavy sigh. Though Sarah had looked pale and had been withdrawn almost the entire time Michaela had been at the fort, tonight she looked worse than before. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent and to be blunt, she looked tired. No, not tired; nor merely exhausted. She actually looked haggard. Lines were visible on her pale face and she looked like she’d even slimmed down. “I was married once before,” she said abruptly.

Michaela blinked; surprised Sarah was even talking to her, let alone giving her marital advice.

“When I was seventeen I agreed to marry a man as a way to mutually benefit both our families, nothing more. In time, however, mutual affection developed. When he died, I foolishly agreed to marry his brother Amos, who said he was in need of a good wife while being stationed in the outstretches of the country. I knew he was fifteen years older than me, but I was seven-and-twenty with a child. I didn’t have many options. Besides, I thought our marriage would be similar to how it was with his brother.” She pursed her lips. “It’s not.”

Michaela was taken aback. She’d never given much thought to Sarah’s marriage before, but she’d never have guessed Sarah would be so bitter about it.

“I’d been married to Chester for less than a year when an attraction developed between us. I’ve been married to Amos for five years and he’s just as cold to me as he was the day we married.” Something flashed in her eyes—sadness or regret, perhaps. “Last summer, I...I...uh...made a huge mistake. After Allison came and she and Wes settled into a loving newlywed state, I decided to take matters between Amos and I into my own hands. Until then, we’d shared intimacies exclusively the first Friday of the month. Everything was very cold and mechanical. I wondered if things were better between us, in a physical sense, that he’d warm up to me and might allow me to invite my son Isaac to come live with us when we left Fort Gibson.” She sniffled. “I had no idea when we married that the first thing I’d be made to do is leave my son.”

Sarah shook her head sadly. “Sometimes Chester used to travel and when he’d come back, he couldn’t get me upstairs after dinner fast enough. So I thought if I found a way to put Amos off for one of our monthly assignations, he’d be so consumed with desire and longing he’d seek me out early for the next or show some sort of sign of desire for me the following time. But he didn’t. He was just as cool and reserved as he had been before. So I tried again. Longer this time. Only this time it was worse. I was out of a few cooking ingredients and needed to go to the Sutler’s store. I knew Amos usually took his lunch to his private office in the commanding officers' quarters and went to go ask him to go with me—” Her voice broke and the dread at the anticipation of Sarah’s next words overwhelmed Michaela.

“He wasn’t alone,” Sarah choked on a sob. “Every now and then a troupe of loose women pass through and as it’d happen that was the day they’d come. They were on his sofa. It was the first time I’d ever seen my husband without all of his clothes. I’d never been so mortified in all of my life. His immediate response was to blame me, saying had I not denied him, he wouldn’t have sought company elsewhere.”

“I’m so sorry,” Michaela said quietly, reaching to pat Sarah’s knee, the only form of comfort she knew to give a woman she was so uncertain about.

“Don’t be. I made my choices. First by denying him in hopes of attracting him, then by trying the other extreme: seduction.” She frowned and exhaled. “It worked better, but not much. For about six months I tried different things to encourage him to see me that way and our encounters grew more frequent, but no more passionate.”

“I’m sorry,” Michaela murmured, not really sure why she was apologizing to this woman for her lack of an intimate relationship with her husband other than to just be sympathetic.

“I need to tell you something,” Sarah said abruptly, tears shining in her eyes. “It’s about me and your husband.”

A fist formed in Michaela’s gut. She couldn’t say why. She knew Gray wouldn’t have done anything to dishonor any woman, no matter who she was or how seductive. She twisted her lips in distaste.

“About two months ago, I—” she lowered her gaze and started intently studying her nails— “started getting sick.”

Michaela wasn’t sure why Sarah was telling her this or what it had to do with Gray, but it did nothing to ease the pain in her gut. Actually, it just made it hurt worse.

“Not a good kind of sick that holds the promise of a new life. No, Amos had picked up some sort of disease from one of the women who’d come through the fort a few weeks before and had passed it onto me.” Her face went the fiercest shade of red Michaela had ever seen and tears poured from her eyes. Instinctively, she went to wrap Sarah in a hug. “The medicine has stopped working,” she sobbed. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll have or how much worse it’ll get before—” Sobs wracked her body cutting off anything else she might have said as she went boneless in Michaela’s embrace.

Michaela gingerly patted her back. “Are you sure? Is there nothing else that might work?”

“Not out here,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “Amos sought treatment as soon as he knew what he had. I was too stupid to know what was wrong with me at first and the medicine he gave me wasn’t strong enough to cure it.”

“Not strong enough?”

Sarah nodded sadly. “I waited too long because I didn’t know what it was.”

“Is there no other form of medicine that might work?”

“I don’t know. He’s refused to let me go to Fort Smith. He claims it’s an embarrassment and I won’t shame him that way.”

Michaela hurt for her and continued to offer her what comfort she could. Life was never fair to women—especially those married to men who cared so little for them.

Suddenly, Sarah pulled away and swiped at the tears that covered her cheeks.  “Anyway, it was because of this...this disease that I answered Amos that way when he asked what was going on between Gray and me. Until then, I’d been on the mend and Amos had made some comment early that morning about returning to our home for lunch. The way he said it and the look he gave me made me think he wanted me to…Well you get the idea. I heard a noise and opened the door a crack to see if Amos was coming. But the noise I’d heard was Gray stomping up the stairs. I didn’t expect Gray to hear me close the door and come to investigate so I shed my robe and lay out on the bed to await Amos’ arrival. I was so startled when I saw Gray instead of Amos, I screamed.”

Blushing, Sarah tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “It was instinct and I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to drag Gray into everything or get him injured. But when Amos came in only a few seconds later, bent on accusing Gray of attempting to rape me and use it as further evidence against him in the trial about Soft Dove, I said the only thing I thought would help him.” She offered an apologetic smile. “Or at least hurt him the least.”

“Why not just say the truth of why Gray was there?”

“Amos wouldn’t have accepted that and would have been very upset that I’d have announced to everyone that I was waiting for him at noonday that way.  Not that anyone would have believed that tale, even if it were true. Nobody around here is fool enough to believe that Amos and I have some sort of great love for one another that would lead me to present myself that way to him. Nor would he want anyone to think me easy and him lustful.”

Michaela nodded numbly. A general’s reputation among his men was very important to him. Her father had been no exception, hiding his relationship with Rebecca from anyone to avoid disgrace.

“Anyway, I wanted to tell you everything while I still could and ask for your forgiveness for my lie.” The hurt evident in Sarah’s eyes crumbled Michaela’s heart.

“There is nothing to forgive.”

“Yes, there is, but I appreciate your willingness to forgive and hope I can ask you to do me one more favor.”

“Of course.”

Sarah pulled out a folded paper from her bodice. “It’s a letter to my son. Amos has forbid me to have any contact with him since we married so I don’t have his address. But I’d hoped you could ask Gray or your father to use one of his sources to get this to him.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Michaela said, not taking the letter. “Why don’t you hold onto that—”

“I can’t. If Amos finds it, he might kill me before this awful disease does.”

Michaela frowned. Something wasn’t right. “How long have you been sick?”

“I don’t know. Around the time that Ella got here, I think. Why?”

“And you were getting better at first, then you stopped,” Michaela confirmed.

Sarah frowned. “Yes.”

“Did anyone have access to your medicine?”

“No. The bottle is in our room.”

“Do you take it daily?”

“Yes. I pour a spoonful in my tea each day. It’s terribly bitter by itself.”

“I’m sure,” Michaela murmured. “And when did you say the medicine stopped working?”

“I don’t know exactly. Two weeks ago?”

The room fell quiet, then suddenly Sarah’s eyes flared wide as if she’d just solved a puzzle and didn’t like the results.

“That bastard!” She leapt up off her seat. “I knew he didn’t care for me, but I never would have thought he’d purposely kill me.” She paced the floor. “It was only two days after the incident with Gray that my sores started to spread and flare up again.” Tears clogged her throat and she picked up her pace. “I should have known he’d do something when he never even confronted me about my claim that afternoon. I suppose he’d decided to just pay me back this way for embarrassing him.”

Michaela stood and walked over to Sarah. “Shhh,” she soothed, glancing toward Aunt Lucille who was starting to stir from all the commotion. “Sarah, it’ll be all right.”

“No, it won’t,” she cried, pounding her fists against her sides. She crumpled to the floor and put her head in her hands, silent sobs wracking her body.

Sinking down to join her, Michaela tried to sooth her again. “Sarah, this might not be as bad as you think.”

“I have no medicine. I’m going to die.” She said the words with such conviction it was almost like she’d been holding out some sort of hope of recovery until Michaela made her realize the truth of what was going on.

“No, you’re not,” Michaela said firmly, a genuine grin pulling at her lips. “For once, my husband’s consorting with women of ill-repute might be of use.” She had no inclination to offer any sort of explanation for the real reason Gray was so familiar with strumpets. That was his secret to tell, not hers. She blinked away her wayward thoughts and reached for Sarah’s hands. “I’ll ask him tonight what he thinks might work and how we can get it.”

“But what if Amos knows I’m getting better and throws out the medicine again?”

“He won’t be able to. I’ll keep it in my room and bring it to you.”

Her face lit, but then suddenly was filled with shadows. “What if he catches on and has your room searched?”

Michaela sighed. Who knew Sarah was such a worrier? “What if I ask my father to keep it? General Ridgely wouldn’t be so bold as to search my father’s things.”

“No, he wouldn’t. But what am I going to do after I’m better? What if he tries to do something else?”

Michaela didn’t know and was spared from having to give Sarah an answer when a chorus of screams and shouts sounded just outside the window.

~Chapter Twenty-Nine~

Gray reminded himself to remain calm and keep walking.

He didn’t know what would await him later tonight, nor was he in any hurry to arrive and discover it. He was, however, not fool enough to blindly go where he’d been summoned without securing at least one person looking after him from the outside. There were only a few men out here whom Gray had enough faith in to act as a sharpshooter for him, but the best of all would be General Davis.

Putting aside his personal feelings for the man, Gray knew the truth: General Davis was the best there was, and pride be damned, that’s who Gray wanted looking out for him.

Gray knocked on the door and didn’t bother to wait for his father-in-law’s voice before opening it.

“Why, Grayson, just come on in,” General Davis said sarcastically.

Now wasn’t the time for pleasantries or exchanging less-than-polite banter. He let himself inside and closed the door. “I need a favor.”

General Davis stared at him unblinkingly. “Yes?”

Gray handed the man the mysterious missive he’d found in his room earlier. “I don’t like the look of this.” He said as General Davis picked it up. “It’s a trap of some sort and I have no desire to be caught in the middle. I don’t know who else to ask who I know can handle it—” he swallowed his last ounce of pride and forced himself not to scowl at the keen look of interest on the general’s face— “can you hide out in the trees and act as a sharpshooter for me?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I went to the rounders game this afternoon and this was waiting when I returned.” General Davis pulled out an identical note and tossed it on the table. The only difference between the two notes was the time. General Davis was asked to arrive fifteen minutes later. Gray tensed.  A lot could happen in fifteen minutes.

“How could this possibly involve us both?” Gray asked at last.

“I don’t know.” General Davis ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t like the look of this at all.”

“Neither do I. I’ll go through the underground tunnel between the store closet and the blockhouse first while you stand by the wall and listen for my signal.”

“Does that mean if I hear a gunshot as soon as you’re through that you’re dead and there’s no need for me to come, too?” General Davis asked.

Gray went completely still. That had to have been the first time Gray had ever heard the general try to be humorous. His remark wasn’t of course, but he’d tried. How very strange. Shrugging it off, he pulled out his watch. “In ten minutes dinner will be announced. We’ll go then and wait together in the back of the store closet until it’s time.”

General Davis nodded his agreement.

Once inside the store closet, General Davis went immediately over to the wall adjacent to the blockhouse and tried to peer through any crack he could find. But the windows in the blockhouse had been covered and without a ray of light coming in it was impossible to see anything in there.

They each took a seat and waited.

If the person responsible for this scheme was of a mind to put both Gray and General Davis in an uncomfortable, tension filled situation, they’d succeeded. For the next three hours they sat in silence, staring at one another until the sun had fallen completely from the sky and they could no longer see one another. How strange that Gray didn’t have any of the usual urges to want to murder the man. Was it possible his relationship with Michaela had eased some of the hatred he’d once felt for her father?

A loud noise jolted them to the present. Gray almost said a silent prayer of thanksgiving that his thoughts had been interrupted before they could go so far as to him being willing to reconcile with the man. A second later, there was a whisper, then another. The second one a little faster than the first.

Gray’s heart picked up pace. He pulled his pocket watch from his trousers and held it up to let the moonlight illuminate it. Whoever was in there wasn’t expecting him for another hour. Gray’s heart slammed his chest. What if there were others who were expected to join the group and thought to use the tunnel? Would they find it odd that the door to the storage closet appeared to be unlocked from the outside? He slipped his gun free from its holster and cocked it, aiming it at the door.

From the adjacent door whispers continued and Gray pressed his ear to the wall, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He considered popping loose the floorboard that led to the underground passage between this room and the blockhouse but didn’t wish to alert anyone to their presence. He’d wait.

A few minutes later, the talking ceased.

Gray didn’t know which was more unsettling, having them in the room talking or the quiet.

Time crept by, the loud boom, boom of Gray’s pounding heart the only indication time was passing at all.

A while later, the door to the adjoining room crept open and the soft scrapes and thuds of booted feet walking across the wooden planks were the only sounds. Gray’s stomach clenched so hard bile surged up his throat. This was it. This was who was waiting for them and it didn’t sound like he was alone. It sounded like a small group.

In the pale moonlit glow of the room, Gray searched for his father-in-law’s eyes. But he couldn’t find them. In his mind images of Michaela formed and his heart practically stopped. If something happened to him tonight, who would protect her? How would she hear of what had happened to him? Furthermore, was it worth it? Why was he sitting here in a darkened room about to willingly go into a trap that might cost him his life when there were so many other better places to be—like with Michaela at their home? He jumped to his feet. Suddenly everything seemed so foolish and trivial.

“What are you doing?” General Davis bit off; presumably irritated by the noise Gray made when he so carelessly stood.

“Something I should have done several hours ago: going home,” Gray said as simple as you please.

“Home?” The emotion inflected in his father-in-law’s voice was hard to place and Gray couldn’t force himself to care.

“Yes, home.” He released the hammer on his pistol and put it back into the holster. “Where I can dine with my wife.” And beg her forgiveness for my many sins, including this one. How foolish was he to become so wrapped up in what information Jacobs might tell him that he’d brushed Michaela aside and told her to go somewhere until he was ready? A bitter taste filled his mouth. Who had he become? Some brute who barked orders and made commands without worry for disrupting anyone else’s plans, especially those of his wife? And for what? Because he had to know so badly what the hell a wastrel like Jacobs had to say. What good would it do? Gray could guarantee whatever knowledge Jacobs, or whoever wrote that note, wanted to impart wasn’t worth losing Michaela.

And there was no denying it. The more he pushed her away like this, the more he’d lose her.

His heart slammed in his chest and his lungs burned. He was going to lose her. He’d pushed her away at almost every turn and if today’s conversation out at the river wasn’t enough to turn her into a cold, unloving fish, his actions tonight would whether he was injured or not and the thought alone made his blood run cold.

“I’m going home and you should go home, too,” Gray said, making his way toward the door.

General Davis’ hand snuck out and grabbed Gray just above the elbow. “What the devil for?”

“Why the devil not?” Gray countered testily. “The way I see it, there is no reason for us to be here unless we are part of some trap.” He narrowed his eyes on his father-in-law’s form, unease and a touch of anger coursing through him. “What’s your game?”

“My game?”

Gray wrapped his hand around the cold handle of his pistol. “Yes, your game.”

“I don’t play games, Grayson, you should know that by now.”

Cold chills ran up Gray’s spine. What was going on? Was Michaela’s father the one he should fear and not the men in the other room? “What the hell is going on?” Gray demanded.

“Well, if the two of you would get your asses over here, we’d tell you,” came Colonel Lewis’ muffled voice through the wall.

Irritation bubbled inside Gray. He didn’t want to go hear what Colonel Lewis had to say. He didn’t care. His biggest concern right now was his wife.

“After you,” General Davis barked. He tossed down the loose floorboard he’d pried up.

“You can go in there if you want, but I need to go—”

“You can find your wife later and beg her forgiveness then.” General Davis’ voice turned hard as steel. “We need you. I need you. Just this last time then I promise I’ll leave and stop interfering with your life.”

Gray laughed. “You must think I’m a fool to believe that.”

“A lovesick one, perhaps,” General Davis said with a scoff.

Gray pressed his lips together, but he couldn’t deny it. That’s exactly what he was: a lovesick fool. “Why am I needed?”

“Everything will be explained when we get there.”

“So you knew this was a trick all along?” Gray grumbled as he lowered himself into the hole in the floor.

“Partially. I knew a few details, but not as many as I’d like.”

Despite his irritation with the man, Gray smiled. “Good for Colonel Lewis.”

Gray climbed up into the blockhouse then turned around to offer his father-in-law help up. When they were both standing in the middle of the darkened room, the unmistakable swish of a match sliding across a rough surface rent the air.

Colonel Lewis held the match a few inches from his face. “There’s a settee against the far wall.”

Gray and General Davis stumbled over to it; then the match went out and the room became as black as death once again.

“What’s going on, George?” General Davis asked.

“It has come to my attention that there has become a regular occurrence of men leaving the fort at night,” a voice Gray didn’t recognize said from about five feet to his left. “I was summoned from the capitol to investigate it.”

Gray went as stiff, and cold, as a statue. He opened his mouth to defend himself and explain about the one time that he did go, but that he’d never touched Soft Dove. Unfortunately, his throat went dry and he couldn’t form a single syllable.

“It would seem, these trips have become regular with an assignation scheduled for tonight,” Colonel Lewis further explained.

Gray relaxed instantly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that tonight we might find the real culprit behind Soft Dove’s attack,” Colonel Lewis said.

Relief and anxiety warred inside Gray.

“That part I knew,” General Davis said. “Which is why I had to come up with a way to keep Gray out of sight and distracted. Now, what is our plan?”

“Wait,” another voice said.

“Wait?” Gray echoed. “For what?”

“Their return,” Colonel Lewis said.

“Are we just supposed to hear them and run out and confront them?” Gray asked, an edge of irritation on his voice.

“In short, yes,” Colonel Lewis said.

Gray pushed to his feet. “No, thank you. I have other things to do rather than get beaten within an inch of my life for this nonsense again.”

“We need you,” Colonel Lewis said.

“No, you just needed a somewhat able body and mine was the first one you thought of.”

“That’s partially true,” the colonel allowed. He sighed. “The truth of it is, from what we can tell, the men who went are likely officers, which means I can’t go around asking anyone else for help.” His voice grew hard and uneven, raw. “I don’t know who I can and can’t trust anymore and the fewer people who know about all of this, the better. If I didn’t ask you, I’d have to ask another officer to get involved. It was just easier to ask you.”

Gray’s lips thinned. “How convenient for me.”

“I know,” Colonel Lewis said with a slight laugh.

“How do we even know that we’ll hear them?” Gray asked, hoping they’d see the foolishness in this plan.

“You’ll know,” the low, muffled voice Gray couldn’t recognize muttered.

“In our anonymous tip, we were informed that the men who frequently go out always use this entrance when leaving and returning since it’s the furthest away from the sleeping quarters,” Colonel Lewis said.

“But what about the man up in the watchtower? We could just go ask him who paid him to look the other way while they made their escape,” Gray said, frowning. Something didn’t seem right about any of this.

“Ah, another point in the favor of using this entrance,” Colonel Lewis said a tad sarcastically. “As coincidental as it might seem. Our informant also mentioned that whenever this group of men goes out, this tower is not covered.”

“Not covered?” Gray asked.

“Yes, Private Bernard Peterson, the man assigned watchtower duty tonight, is no longer with us. If you’d like to confirm this for yourself, you should climb the stairs.”

“How was such an oversight allowed, George?” General Davis demanded of the colonel.

“It’s an easy one around here, sir,” Colonel Lewis said without a hint of discomfort or shame. “At least forty men die out here of disease or wounds each month. Every two months we’re getting new men to fill their places. It’s hard to know that there is a live body in the tower each night—a fact I will be taking more care to confirm, I assure you. Nonetheless, these men must keep a close eye on the assignment chart and plan their rendezvous for the nights when this happens to the guard for this tower.”

“How clever,” General Davis mumbled. “Has our anonymous source given us any other clues?”

“Not that will help us. He mentioned they always leave promptly an hour and a half after dark and have never been gone more than four hours.”

“That must have been the men we heard,” Gray murmured, frowning. “Did he give an idea of how many there will be?”

“No.”

“And how many of us are there?” General Davis ventured.

“Five,” Colonel Lewis said. “Me, you, Captain Montgomery, General Howard from the capitol, and General—”

“It’s time!” someone barked at the same time that distant shouts filled the air.

Gray’s body reacted with the instinct of an officer and without hesitation he rushed out the door behind Colonel Lewis toward the line of shouting Indians making enough noise to cause a war.

~Chapter Thirty~

Gray nearly cursed his father-in-law for getting him into this mess tonight as he ran the two hundred yards that separated the barracks and the officers' quarters where a cluster of no less than twenty Cherokee Warriors and four bound and gagged men sat on horseback and were coming toward them at breakneck speed. The first three captives lacked any kind of facial covering, but the fourth man wore a dark mask. Gray was still too far away to make out who they were.

The Indians had come bearing fire torches, which gave off enough light to see those who carried them but not much else.

“We have your men,” came the nearly perfect English of the translator they’d brought along. The man swung down off his horse and stepped forward. Gray immediately recognized him as the man who’d led him and Jack to Dark Moon. Holding a large torch in one hand, he used the other to gesture to Lt. Lanksy, Lt. Forrester, and Lt. Warren, the three red-faced, unmasked men who were then harshly shoved off their mounts and to the ground in front of Gray and the other officers by their captors. “Your men.” He pointed back toward the masked man still seated on his horse. “Our bounty?”

“Bounty?” echoed Colonel Lewis with a mild curse under his breath. “What bounty?”

Behind the translator the chief stood, his angry face accented with the feathers of his headdress. He grabbed the torch from the translator and took a step toward Colonel Lewis and General Davis. “Where General Ridgely?” he demanded.

Gray looked around. Colonel Lewis had said there were five of their men in the blockhouse waiting, but only four were standing here now: Gray, Colonel Lewis, General Davis and General Howard.

“I don’t know where he went. Earlier today he mentioned having to make rounds of the watchtowers tonight and said he’d find me when it was time,” Colonel Lewis said. He drew himself up to his full height. “In his absence, as the second highest ranking officer here I will act in his stead.”

Chief Soaring Eagle did not look pleased. “He make many promise. None kept. We keep bounty.”

“No,” Colonel Lewis said smoothly with a voice that held a firm edge of authority. “We do not give away our men to be punished. He will be tried for what he’s done to your daughter, but he will be returned.”

Soaring Eagle sneered and made some gesture with his hand that made all the other Indians close ranks around their remaining captive. “No. Promise made.”

“Who made you a promise?” General Howard asked calmly, taking a step toward Soaring Eagle.

Soaring Eagle’s lips thinned as he stared shrewdly at General Howard.

The general put his hands into the air and took another step closer to the chief. “I’m General Philip Howard from Washington. I make treaties between my people and yours.” He gestured first to the soldiers, then to the Indians. “If you tell me what you were promised, I will see what can be done to make that happen.”

Chief Soaring Eagle blinked, his face expressionless. He turned to the translator who was more fluent with English than he was. The two began speaking back and forth in their language.

After a few exchanges, the translator turned toward General Howard. “He say that General Ridgely promised to find the man who attack his daughter and kill him. Since General Ridgely not here, nor stop man from more attacks, we keep him and kill him ourselves.”

“Don’t be hasty,” General Howard said slowly. “General Ridgely is around here somewhere, once he gets here, we’ll get this all settled.”

“No. I no wait for broken promise,” the chief said. He walked over toward the masked man who was still on his horse wiggling around like a fish on a line and pulled him to the ground with one swift movement.

He fell to the ground with a hard thwack where he immediately continued bucking and squirming.

“E do da! E do da!” a feminine voice called out, running out of the darkness where the Cherokees had arrived from earlier. The young woman was screaming something Gray couldn’t begin to understand and shaking a piece of torn leather.

“What’s she saying?” Colonel Lewis demanded of the translator.

“That’s his other daughter,” the translator murmured. “She says not to hurt the man.” He paused to listen to the heated exchange between father and daughter. “She says it’s a trap.”

“A trap,” Gray breathed. He didn’t know what kind of trap this could possibly be, but they’d all fallen victim to it.

“She claims, the masked man is not the real man,” the translator continued.

No, he wasn’t a real man if he had to reduce himself to forcing women. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. That’s not what he’d said. He’d said the man under the mask wasn’t the real criminal. Heedless to the angry screaming around him, Gray walked up to the man wiggling on the ground and ripped his mask off. McCorkle. Not bothering with the nicety of cutting the rope on the gag, Gray reached down and gave it a hearty yank out of McCorkle’s mouth.

McCorkle screamed at the pain of the rope burn his flawless face received at Gray’s action.

Gray felt no sympathy. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

Gray placed his booted foot on the man’s chest to hold him still. “Tell us what you know.”

McCorkle hesitated and Gray pressed down harder on the man’s chest. “Will I go to prison?”

“We’ll let the Indians take you if you don’t start answering your superior,” Gray snapped, grinding his heel in the man’s sternum.

“All right,” McCorkle wheezed.

Gray took enough weight off the man’s chest for him to catch his breath then waited.

“The four of us did nothing. Nothing. I tell you.”

Gray looked down at the man’s empty gun holster around his waist and a sinking sensation filled his stomach. The Indians had taken their guns. This might not end quietly or peacefully. “Then why were you out there with your gun?”

“Protection.”

“From who?”

“The Indians,” McCorkle said, blinking.

Gray nearly kicked the insolence out of the man. “What is your role in all of this?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I was told just to wait in the woods and if I hear an ambush, I’m supposed to fire my pistol.”

Gray muttered a curse at McCorkle’s stupidity. “What were you waiting for?”

“I don’t know, I was just told to wait.”

“By who?”

“General Bridges. He sent a note asking me to wear this mask and wait on the side of the road for protection during his arrival tonight.”

“Do you have the note?” Gray barked. Without waiting for McCorkle’s answer, Gray began searching his pockets for paper. He’d long ago deduced that the note he’d received had been written by his father-in-law as part of his harmless scheme to keep him occupied and out and of sight until it was safe to assume the men had left for the night. McCorkle’s note, however, held far more interest to him right now. He’d sent and received enough correspondence with General Bridges and his men over the years to recognize his handwriting. Gray found the folded paper, opened it and scowled. “That wasn’t from General Bridges.”

McCorkle let out a little squeal of distress and Gray walked off, shaking his head.  McCorkle had never been one to demonstrate the ability to act without being given orders—no matter whom they were from nor the stupidity they contained. If he was foolish enough to put on a mask and ride out into the middle of Indian Territory in the dead of night and fire his gun if he suspected an ambush while waiting for a general from a nearby fort to travel to Fort Gibson at night, then the best place for him was prison. At least there he’d be told what to do, when to do it and he’d be reasonably safe.

Gray turned his attention back to the chief and his daughter who were still shouting at each other, then walked to the other men lying on the ground, still bound. Lt. Lansky was the first one he reached. He removed that man’s gag the same way he’d done with McCorkle. “What’s your reason for leaving the camp?”

“We always go along,” Lansky said.

His companions nodded in agreement.

“Always?”

“For almost two years now, we’ve been riding out as protection.”

“Protection for who?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Colonel Lewis snapped. He turned toward the others. “Do you know?”

Both of them moved their heads side to side, their eyes wide and full of fear.

“He always wears the mask,” Lansky said.

“How does he compensate you?”

“Tobacco.”

Gray sighed. That didn’t tell him much of anything. All of the officers ranked captain or higher had a key to the commissary where the tobacco was stored. All they had to do was steal some to use as payment.

General Davis muttered a curse and asked the translator what else had been said.

“She says that Soft Dove has run away with her—” he made a rolling hand gesture as if to think of the English word for what he wanted to say.

“Captor,” General Davis said at the same time that Colonel Lewis suggested, “Lover.”

The translator nodded excitedly and pointed to Colonel Lewis. “Yes, she ran away with her lover.”

Run away with her lover. A lead weight settled on Gray’s chest as those words rang out over and over in his mind. Michaela had been right once again. This entire elaborate scheme tonight was the product of a love affair. How stupid was he for automatically dismissing her notion that it involved one of the soldiers.

The translator continued to speak, explaining something about how her father was furious and the men were talking about chasing them down and demanding satisfaction. Gray didn’t care what they did. Nor did he care what happened to McCorkle for being so foolish as to act on irrational orders given via a scribbled, unofficial missive. He couldn’t even force himself to care who the man was behind everything. The only thing in this world he cared about was standing just beyond the firelight: Michaela.

***

Michaela squinted in the direction of the men. It was so dark she hadn’t been able to make out who was who in the moonlight. But her heart told her all she needed to know: Gray was not one of the four captured men.

Next to her, Sarah’s body grew tense. “I must get closer to hear what they’re saying.”

“You cannot go alone,” Michaela hedged.

“We’ll all go,” Aunt Lucille said weakly, joining them.

Hesitantly, Michaela began to walk with them toward the men. “This is close enough,” she said. “We can hear them here.”

“No, closer.” Sarah continued to walk closer, Michaela and Aunt Lucille right behind her.

The rough masculine voices that were calling out sent chills up Michaela’s spine. She’d give almost anything to go back inside. There were more men there now than there had been originally. She searched the tableau in front of her for any sign of Gray. Perhaps if she could see him, she’d feel safer knowing he’d hear if she screamed. She closed her eyes for a second. Did it really matter? He’d come after her if she screamed of course. Obligation demanded that he did. But what of his heart? Would she never truly own it or would it always be duty and honor with him?

She found him then. He was stalking over toward the masked man. She held her breath in anticipation as he reached down and yanked off the disguise.

He then shoved his booted foot on the man’s chest and asked him a question that Michaela couldn’t hear. Receiving no opposition from the other ladies, Michaela led their trio closer.

She wasn’t as close as she’d like, but she was as close as she dared to go, lest they be discovered. Gray’s loud voice carried just enough for it to sound like a whisper to Michaela. But it was enough.

Beside her, Sarah gasped. “It’s Amos.”

“I don’t think that’s Amos, dear,” Aunt Lucille said. “Amos’ hair is black.”

“I know it’s not Amos on the ground. Amos is the one who set that man up,” Sarah said. “He mentioned a note and being asked to wear a mask. Two days ago, I had to sneak over to Amos’ office in order to get money buy items at the Sutler’s store because Charles refuses to allow me to put my items on Amos’ accounts. Anyway, when I opened the drawer he keeps his money in, I saw a mask just like that shoved in the back of the drawer.”

“Are you certain?” Michaela didn’t mean that to sound as rude as it did, having a black mask in his drawer didn’t make him guilty. Surely with more than a thousand men out here, more than one could have had a similar mask for one reason or another. Besides, with only the moon and a few torches giving off light, it was too hard to see much of anything specific. All thoughts of the mask and who it belonged to disappeared when she saw Gray abandon his stance by the accused and walked over to the other three.

“It has to be him,” Sarah said. “He’s nowhere to be seen. He said this morning before leaving for whatever it is he does on rounders days that he wouldn’t be home for dinner that he was going to make his watchtower rounds. If he were doing that, surely he’d have taken notice of all of this by now.”

“Perhaps we need to get closer and you’ll see him then, dear,” Aunt Lucille said in her typical caring tone.

Sarah let out a deep exhale, all eyes on the exchange between the soldiers. “I’m not wrong. I know it’s him. I just know it.”

“But that makes no sense. Why would he frame someone for a crime? Is he that desperate to keep Soaring Eagle content he’d stoop this low?”

“She says that Soft Dove has run away with her lover.”

The words of the English-speaking Cherokee hit Michaela like a brick to the toe. She couldn’t say why exactly, but those simple words confirmed Sarah’s earlier statement: it was General Ridgely. It had to be. It all made sense: General Ridgely’s absence, the uninformed man in his place, even Sarah’s vanishing medicine within days of Soaring Eagle’s first appearance and why the sores started coming back just days later. He’d probably given it to Soft Dove, especially if she were pregnant as Gray suspected.

Above one of the flaming torches she locked eyes with Gray—a strange play of expressions crossing over his face.

Michaela was vaguely aware that Sarah had said something about going to speak to the colonel and from the corner of her eye could see Sarah and Aunt Lucille walking toward him as everything else faded away except the intense expression on Gray’s face as he came her way.

~Chapter Thirty-One~

Gray murmured something he’d hope would pass as an apology to Mrs. Ridgely as he brushed past her and Mrs. Lewis in his pursuit of Michaela.

Someone reached for his arm, and he shook the hand off. His only priority was who it should have been from the start.

“Are you ready to go home?” He studied his wife’s face while he waited for her answer, hoping she’d at least offer him a smile. That would be a start.

“Of course,” she murmured with a touch of a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. Forget that, it barely spread her cheeks.

“I have something to tell you,” Gray whispered.

“Good. Because I have something to ask you.” She placed her hand in the crook of his arm.

“Oh you do, do you?”

“Now isn’t the time,” she said a moment later.

The walk back to their room seemed almost like an eternity as he searched his mind for the right thing to say to her once they arrived.

When the time came, he had nothing. Letting her inside, he pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss.

She pulled away. “Gray, what are you doing?”

“I lied.”

“Lied?”

“When I said I had something to tell you, I lied.” He couldn’t tell her, he needed to show her.

“Oh. Well, I didn’t lie when I said I had something to ask you.”

Why did he get the feeling he didn’t want to know what she wanted to ask? “You can ask whatever you want later.” His stomach dropped to his knees. That was his biggest problem. Later, later, later. He was always putting her off by discounting what she had to say or telling her he’d discuss it with her later. “I’m sorry. What was it you wanted to know?”

She traced his collar. “It can wait.”

“No, ask now.”

She looked up at him, her face bathed in the moonlight that spilled in from the break in the curtains. “No. It can wait. It should wait.”

“Are you in some sort of trouble?”

“No. I just need your help.”

“And you’re not so angry with me about earlier today that you still want to ask?” He held his breath in anticipation of her answer.

“No, I’m not.” Her answer was so quiet Gray almost missed it.

Gray reached for her hand and led her to sit down on the edge of the bed. He lit a candle than sank down to his knees in front of her.

The uncertainty that covered her face caused his words to lodge in his throat. He knew he’d hurt her with his actions and wanted, no needed, to start over. He just hadn’t imagined it’d be so hard. He brushed back a fallen lock of her soft hair. His fingers were reluctant to release it. He itched to bury both of his hands into her mass of hair. Soon. First, he needed to show her exactly how much she meant to him.

Locking gazes with her, he raised his hands to that delicate bow at the top of her bodice and slipped it free.

She swallowed and pushed his hand away. “Don’t.”

***

“Don’t?”

Tears stung Michaela’s eyes as she nodded her confirmation, not trusting her voice. She blinked back the tears. All the advice she’d received tonight from the other ladies was irrelevant. She couldn’t scorn him as a way to punish or entice him. Nor did she have interest in making herself available to him and seduce him into her bidding. Her body’s response to him wasn’t something she could control. It was natural. Something about him and him alone melted her and drew her to him all at the same time, always craving more of that feeling he ignited within her until she embarrassed herself—something that would likely happen if she didn’t stop him now.

If she let him help her undress, an innocent enough task, she was certain the pattern would continue: overwhelming feelings of love and desire for the blasted man would well up inside her and she’d become so lost that her body would react to him and he’d once again be reminded what a shameless wanton she was.

Still kneeling in front of her, he lowered his hands to rest on her knees. “Michaela.” His voice was both husky and raw, matching the naked emotion in his hooded blue-green eyes. He moved his hands slowly from her knee up along her thigh and to her waist, his touch scorching her even through multiple layers of clothing.

Her breath hitched and anger boiled up inside her. Was he trying to provoke her? Did he intend to embarrass her? She covered his hands with hers set to push him away again.

“Trust me,” he whispered, leaning his face closer to hers. “Please.”

Then, he brought his lips to hers.

She stilled, a war raging inside her between the feelings she could hardly resist and the truth she knew.

“Kiss me,” he murmured against her mouth. He idly rubbed her sides just above her hips with his strong fingers; his warm lips still moving over hers.

With every touch, a little more of her resolve melted. She firmed her lips to strengthen it, but when he framed her face with his big hands and licked across her sealed lips, she gasped his name.

Gray immediately took advantage of the edge she’d just afforded him and parted her lips with his, drawing her bottom lip between his lips and gingerly sucking it into his mouth. Her blood ran hot and cold at the same time and she gripped his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” she breathed, pulling away.

Gray brushed his thumbs over her cheekbones. “Loving you.”

Blood thundered in Michaela’s ears, her body going numb. “Wh-what did you just say?” Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly.

Gray’s throat worked. “I’m not good at finding the right words, Michaela.” A frown touched his face. “At least not where you’re concerned. I always say the wrong thing to you, so let me show you what you mean to me another way.”

“Another way?”

He nodded and moved his hands down to the buttons on the bodice of her dress. “Yes, a way that I think we’ll both understand.”

Instinctively, she covered his hands with hers once again, but this time she didn’t push him away. Not yet. “You don’t think I’m—I’m—I’m fast?” she whispered, blushing.

“No.” He pulled his hands out from under hers and continued to work the buttons on her bodice. “I think your reactions are perfectly normal for a woman in love with her husband.” A chill ran over her and it had nothing to do with the fact he’d just undone the final button that was right above her waist. He knew that she loved him? His eyes stayed locked with hers, and he gripped the caps of her sleeves then pushed the top of her gown from her shoulders. “Which is certainly to my good fortune since my feelings for you are exactly the same.”

A shiver skated down her spine at his declaration.

At his urging, she clumsily stood and allowed Gray to continue undressing her with the same deliberate care he’d exhibited on their wedding night. When she was clad in only her chemise, he stepped back and raked her with his gaze. Another shiver stole down her spine. This one not nearly as delicious as the last. Was he about to change his mind again and humiliate her once more? Suddenly, her chemise didn’t seem like enough and she felt very cold and vulnerable.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever lain eyes on.”

The longing in his voice washed away every ounce of her vulnerability and doubt. She boldly took a step toward him. “I believe you’re a bit overdressed, Captain,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his.

He let out a groan and cupped her face with his hands. A good sign, she’d say.

Not breaking their kiss, she began undoing the buttons that went down the front of his shirt. When she was halfway down, she reluctantly moved her lips from his and kissed her way down his chin and to his neck then onto the skin of his chest she’d just exposed.

She took a measure of pride in the way his skin leapt and tightened under her kisses. Then another when he growled in what appeared to be frustration at her going so slow. She bit back a smile and continued until he couldn’t take it any longer and ripped his own shirt off.

Michaela cast him a coy smile and put her hands on his shoulders. Without a hint of shame or modesty, she moved her hands over his muscled shoulders and chest, taking time to learn every groove and plane. Slowly, she moved lower.

Gray’s rippling muscles flexed and she pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry. I momentarily forgot about your injury.”

Gray reached for her hands and placed one in the center of his hard stomach. “You’re all right.” He winked. “But you could go lower.”

She batted her eyelashes at him. “I can?”

A predatory grin split his handsome face. “It’s encouraged.”

She would have laughed were she not suddenly so nervous. Which was silly. She’d seen him naked before. They’d even shared intimacies on their wedding night. Why was it so different now?

As if sensing her hesitancy, Gray encircled her wrist and guided her hand down to the waistband of his trousers.

She froze, debating what to do. Last time she hadn’t touched that part of him and she had no idea what to do. With a swallow, she moved her hand lower, cupping him.

He exhaled, his body tightening.

She licked her lips, emboldened. “I take it you like that.”

“Can’t you tell?” he said with a grunt.

Michaela ran her fingertips down his hardened length. “I think so.”

“You think so?” he choked. “I’m about to burst the seams in my trousers and you think you know how much I long for you?”

“Ah, is that what that is,” she teased, giving him a squeeze. “Evidence of your arousal?”

He sucked in a harsh breath. “No. It’s evidence my desire for you and you alone.”

She loved the way he spoke those words almost as much as the man himself. She gave him another squeeze before moving to the fastenings of his trousers.

It took but a few seconds to work them loose and have Gray standing naked before her. She took a moment to appreciate his chiseled body. Only a few outlines of bruises still covered his skin and a slight bulge where he’d broken his ribs. Other than that, there was no sign that this virile specimen had been nearly sent to his grave just two weeks prior.

His waist was trim and lean, his legs thick and well-muscled. Even his erection looked imposing jutting out from a thick nest of curly black hair.

She blushed, eliciting a deep, rich chuckle from her husband. Straightening, she took a step backward suddenly very aware of her own desires. One of which was for her husband to look upon her in much the same manner as she was seeing him.

Releasing her last vulnerability and hesitation, she took hold of the thin straps of her chemise and began lowering it. She watched his face as she went about her task. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in his face tight and his throat was working convulsively. Michaela commanded her hands to stay steady as she brought the top of her chemise below her breasts. Nervous excitement coursed through her, spurred on by the intense look on Gray’s face. He hadn’t looked at her thus on their wedding night. She’d have remembered if he had.

Michaela continued to move her chemise down until she reached her waist, then with one, quick breath, she released her hold on the straps and let it pool into a puddle of cotton and lace at her feet, revealing herself completely to Gray.

Instantly, he was in front of her, kissing her. His hands found her hair, and began freeing it from its confines until it all spilled down over her shoulders.

He deepened their kiss. Michaela mirrored his actions and became breathless when Gray pulled back and hauled her onto the bed. He wasted no time in joining her. His lips on hers and his hands roaming her body. She pressed her swollen breast into his palm. He gave her a firm yet gentle squeeze. His warm lips now kissing their way down to her other breast.

Anticipation swirled within her as his lips moved closer and closer toward the crest of her breast. She arched her back, praying he’d have mercy on her. He didn’t. He kissed all around the softness of her breast before his lips finally captured her nipple. She gasped, her hands flying to the back of his head as if she could hold him there. She threaded her fingers between his thick locks, curling them as he continued to lavish attention on her right breast. Then a few moments later, he was giving the same gentle attentions to the other.

He skated his right hand down her body, the rough calluses of his palm rubbing against her skin nearly set her on fire. He reached her hip, alerting her to the strange feeling building in her just a little lower. He ran his finger over her hipbone and into the natural dip that lie between her hip and her womanly core.

Gray pressed warm kisses down her breast, then to the sides and along the under curve as he trailed his fingers through her springy curls. “Gray,” she said on a gasp.

He murmured her name against her skin and brushed her delicate core with his thumb. Her body jerked in response.

“Trust me,” he whispered, repeating his touch.

She closed her eyes. “I do.”

“Good,” he murmured, shifting his hand lower. He ran a finger over her most intimate place, then pushed his finger inside.

An involuntary gasp crossed her lips. Then again when he repeated the movement. He lightly nipped the sensitive skin on her side just above her hip and she pulled her hands from his hair and gripped his shoulders. Hard. His movements sped in time with hot sparks that shot through her body, giving her both a spray of tingles throughout and a knot of unnameable pressure in her lower abdomen.

Then he stopped.

Her eyes shot open. “Gray?”

He rolled over and reached for her. “Come here.”

She couldn’t move. Frustration and some other tension she couldn’t explain held her captive to where she lay.

“Come here,” he encouraged again his voice an odd mix of silk and gravel.

She allowed him to help her roll over and straddle him, careful not to hit him in the ribs with her knees.

“Get on your knees,” he murmured. He reached between them and suddenly there was something hard and wide pushing at her entrance.

She swallowed and searched his face. What she was looking for, she didn’t know. Any clue that would unlock the mystery of this unusual man and what he wanted from her. Then, he gripped her hips and guided her downward, saying, “We’ll find fulfillment together this time.”

She took his hands from her hips and sliding off of his length placed them above his head. “And every time,” she whispered, sliding back down all the way.

He groaned. “Always.”

It took only a second for her body to adjust to the fullness of him inside of her. She rocked her hips experimentally. Sparks flew through her. She did it again. Faster this time. Another spray of sparks. Hotter and more intense this time. Instinctively, she leaned forward and put her hands on Gray’s shoulders for support as she found a rhythm.

Gray missed no opportunity there and brought his hands between them, cupping and shaping her breasts, only stoking that inner fire in her more. But not enough. She was on the cusp of something. Each thrust brought her closer, but not pushing her over. A small sound of vexation lodged in her throat. Would this tension never break?

Gray released her breasts and trailed his hands down her ribs to grasp her hips. She surrendered control, allowing him to guide her body in a much harder, faster pace, until suddenly a split-second later, waves of hot and cold rushed over every inch of her and her mind went entirely blank. Before she could fully form a coherent thought, a savage growl was torn from Gray’s throat and his body went rigid under her.

A moment later, he released his hold on her and she eased down to rest with her head on his chest.

“I love you, Michaela,” he whispered against her hair.

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread her lips. “I know and I love you, too, Gray.”

“Do you, now?”

“Yes, and I will tomorrow.”

He chuckled. “I’ll love you forever.”

“Forever is a very long time, Captain Montgomery,” she teased.

“And it still won’t be long enough.”

~Epilogue~

The Next Day

Gray was going to be late to work. But he didn’t seem to care. He’d spent half the night awake making love to Michaela in every way he could imagine that wouldn’t kill his ribs. He idly rubbed them. They throbbed, but it had been well worth it.

“Don’t you think it’s time you got ready to go to work?” Michaela asked laughingly from where she stood in front of the bureau looking for a new chemise.

“Not yet.” Gray wrapped his arms around her and set her down on the bed, her waist on the edge with her legs on either side of his standing form. “I think I’d like to try this position again.”

She blushed, but obliged.

A half hour later he still wasn’t ready to go, but forced himself before Colonel Lewis, or worse General Davis, came looking for him.

“We’re only ten minutes late, nobody will remark on it,” Gray tried to assure his wife. “With as much excitement as happened here last night, I imagine we’re not the only ones tired.”

“But we had a different kind of excitement.”

They stepped outside their room and instantly knew something was different. Everyone was about and the atmosphere was buzzing. Two men stood in the stocks and he couldn’t be sure from where he stood but two others appeared to be locked up in the stockade.

“I wonder what’s going on,” Michaela commented.

“I imagine it’s talk of what happened with the Cherokees last night.” He pulled Michaela as close to him as he could. “Let’s see if we can find Wes and Allison or Jack and Ella.”

Both couples weren’t hard to find. They were huddled together at the Lewises’ along with Mr. and Mrs. Lewis, General Davis, General Howard and Private Jacobs, poring over an array of maps.

“Where the hell have you two been?” General Davis demanded, looking up from the map he was studying.

“I don’t think you should ask questions you don’t really wish to know the answer to,” Gray said carefully, pulling over a vacant chair for Michaela.

“Nor that I want to know the answer,” Jack said with a grin.

“I already know the answer,” Wes murmured so quietly Gray was certain no one else, including Michaela, heard.

“Well, while you two were off enjoying each other’s company the entire government of this fort has fallen apart,” General Davis said, frowning.

Gray almost laughed at the man’s irritated expression. One thing was for certain General Davis always took his work seriously.

“We were present for part of it,” Gray said helpfully, garnering a small giggle from both Michaela and Ella.

“Yes, then you vanished before the good part,” Wes said, laughter dancing in his eyes. He lowered his voice again. “Not that I blame you.”

Gray felt not a hint of disappointment at leaving early. What happened last night between the Cherokees and the soldiers wasn’t nearly as important as the realization that he loved his wife and always would.

He put his hands on her delicate shoulders and feigned interest in the conversation that swirled around him. He assumed the “good part” as Wes had so strangely coined it consisted of General Ridgely running off with Soft Dove, abandoning his wife and post for the promise of a future with the Indian maiden and the child she carried. Not that he had a choice. Or at least not much of one. Private Jacobs was actually General O’Hare, a spy sent from Washington a year ago to investigate why there were more men being paid than were reported still living at the fort. It was while he was investigating the inaccuracies regarding the living and dead among them that he discovered the group of riders who went out on nights when only a name and not a body sat in the southwest watchtower. He’d been the one who’d sent to Washington for General Howard to come out. It was also O’Hare who’d been responsible for the information getting to Colonel Lewis about the need for a watch party in the southwest blockhouse.

As he’d already put together, it was General Davis and his own love for torturing Gray who’d written the note that put the two of them in a darkened store closet for a time.

“Where is General Ridgely now?” Gray asked, more out of courtesy than curiosity.

“Amos Ridgely is no longer worthy of the title of general,” General Davis practically barked. He blew out a deep breath. “According to Soaring Eagle’s daughter, the note gave them reason to believe that the two had made plans to run away together during daylight when nobody would be around to suspect anything.”

“And her sister knew they’d run away together all day and didn’t inform anyone?” Ella asked.

“Sounds familiar doesn’t it, girls?” General Davis asked, casting a glance first at Ella, then at Michaela.

“I told you that I’d have told you where she’d really gone if I didn’t get a letter from her in a reasonable amount of time,” Michaela said.

General Davis waved his hand through the air, a touch of a smile on his weathered face. “I think it all worked out how it should have.” There was an amused gleam in the older man’s green eyes, one that would suggest he wasn’t just referring to his being content with the matches both Ella and Michaela made. But he didn’t say anything more. “As for Ridgely, as of this morning, he hasn’t been found. If the sister is correct and they left sometime earlier in the day, they very well could have been out of the Territory before we even knew either were missing.” He raked his hand through his hair. “Chief Soaring Eagle is having his tribe look all over their lands and has sent men to other lands to ask their tribes to look. Word has been sent to Fort Smith and we suspect that their men will start canvassing the border.”

“Do you think he’ll be found?” Allison asked.

“Not if he doesn’t want to be,” General Davis said, frowning.

“And believe me, he doesn’t want to be found,” General Howard stated. “The evidence we have against him for embezzling from the Army is more than enough to send him into hiding for an eternity.”

Colonel Lewis sighed. “The fact is, Soft Dove knows the area so well. I’d imagine if they were able to leave without anyone noticing and having that much of a start on everyone, they’re gone and the Army doesn’t have the funds and amount of men needed to search the entire countryside for one errant general.” A grim smile took his lips. “Not to say that we’re not going to do our best to find him, though. We were just studying maps to see where to send troops when the two of you decided to join us.”

Gray bent forward to glance at one of the maps of the area.

“What will happen to Sarah?” Michaela asked softly.

Gray squeezed his wife’s shoulders affectionately, all thoughts of the map and his forthcoming orders disappearing at the concern in his wife’s voice. Late in the night, Michaela had asked an indirect question about a delicate topic. Without wanting to force Michaela to break her confidence to her friend, he answered her as best he could; given the information she’d told him.

Mrs. Lewis’ lips curved into a hint of a smile. “She plans to travel back East where she can seek a legal divorce and reunite with her son. She was over here pacing and making plans all last night. The poor dear will probably sleep for a week from exhaustion.”

“There will be plenty of time for her to sleep along her journey,” General Davis said, standing abruptly. “I’d better go pack my things. Girls, you might wish to go help Mrs. Ridgely and remind her that we’re leaving directly after lunch.”

Beneath Gray’s hands, Michaela tensed. “You’re leaving today?”

General Davis nodded. “Don’t act so disappointed, Michaela. I’ll be back once I settle my affairs back in Savannah.”

“You’ll be back?” Gray hardly registered his own voice.

“Of course I will,” General Davis said jovially. “This fort already has the finest colonel the army has to offer, but it still needs a general.”

“See what I mean,” Wes said, slapping Gray on the back. “You missed the good part. Your father-in-law is leaving retirement and coming to live here.”

***

1850

Michaela couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so fidgety with excitement as she rubbed the white lace that circled the cuff of the blue gown her husband had finally relented and made for her. (Though she’d never tell him so, he was right about his skills, he was better with a needle and thread than anyone she knew. A fact that she was certain he wouldn’t want made public.)

It had been a year since she and Gray had been transferred from Fort Gibson and away from everyone she’d come to hold so dear. But the transfer was inevitable. After three years of marriage, Gray forgot to wear the sheath more often than not and she’d conceived.

Reluctantly, her father allowed for Gray to move to a safer fort where they could stay together. Though neither Pa nor Gray ever said it, she had a strange suspicion the two had put aside their past and formed an unbreakable bond.

“Are you ready to go in and meet the newest Tucker?” Gray asked as their carriage rolled to a stop outside a two-story plantation house outside of Charleston where Wes and Allison had invited them for a weekend to celebrate the birth of their first child. Apparently, Wes forgot to wear a sheath too often, too, though she suspected that wasn’t entirely an accident.

“I cannot wait to meet her!” She tightened her hold on their son and let Gray help her descend the carriage. She scanned the row of parked carriages, excitement building. “Do you know who else will be here?”

Gray shrugged.

She lifted a brow. “Gray.”

“Come along, we wouldn’t want to be later than we already are.”

“Late? The invitation didn’t give a time to arrive, just a date for when to arrive at Lowland Ridge.”

“Oh, so then you don’t mind missing time with Allison.”

“I never said that. I’m very excited to see her, even if it’s only for the weekend. I just didn’t want to intrude on their time with family, that’s all.”

“They wouldn’t have invited us if we were,” Gray said, knocking on the door. “Although...”

“Although what?”

“I do believe this is his grandparent’s plantation.”

Before she could respond, the front door swung open, revealing a grinning Wes.

Throwing all sense of propriety to the wind, Michaela hugged him then stood back and gushed over how wonderful it was to be here while Gray shook his hand and simultaneously slapped him on the back.

“Well, I’ll let you decide how wonderful it is to be here after you meet the other guests.”

Michaela and Gray exchanged a look. He knew something she didn’t. She was certain of it! He quickly averted his gaze and fell in step between her and Wes.

A peal of laughter sliced the air: Ella!

Heedless to Gray and Wes’ chuckles behind her, Michaela scampered down the hall toward the room where that contagious sound was emanating. She walked inside and came to a sudden stop: Jack and Ella, Allison, Aunt Lucille and Uncle George, two elderly people she didn’t recognize and Pa!

Gray’s hand found the small of her back. “Go on,” he said, adding a hint of pressure.

“I just can’t believe it. Everyone came.”

“Well, except for Mrs. Ridgely. But I couldn’t track her down,” Wes teased, making his way to take a seat by his wife.

A little touch of bittersweet sadness came over Michaela. She and Sarah had exchanged a handful of letters that told good news of a full recovery and a divorce granted; and the sad news of being unable to locate her son. Then of course there was the final letter full of both hope and despair: her son had been found, but he was living with family in England. Michaela still waited for another missive, but had yet to receive one.

Then there was Mr. Ridgely who nobody spoke of any longer. Just as Pa had said, a man who didn’t want to be found could stay hidden for an eternity. Rumors of possible sightings had sparked over the years, leading men out to search for him, but a search had never been successful. Nobody minded, except perhaps Pa. He seemed agitated more than anything that the man had been able to escape him, and Michaela had little doubt that Pa would make sure the man was found and brought to justice if it’s the last thing he did. And if that’s what made him happy, it made Michaela happy, too.

“Well, quit standing there and bring me my namesake,” Pa said, a sparkle in his green eyes.

“Yes, sir,” Michaela said, bringing her six-month-old son, Grayson Samuel, over to her father to see for the first time.

Pa took him from her and held him while she made her rounds.

First came Ella, who hugged her so tightly she thought she might burst then scream with excitement when Ella whispered in her ear that she, too, would be a mother before the end of the year.

Aunt Lucille was next to squeeze her until she was sure to have a bruise. Not that she cared in the least. She was happy to see them all again.

Allison waited none-too-patiently for her turn and gave perhaps the tightest hug of them all. “I’m so glad to see you again.”

“I am, too,” Michaela said through her joyous tears. “And I cannot wait to see your precious daughter.”

“She isn’t so precious when I wake her from a nap,” Allison said apologetically.

“No, I can imagine she’s not.” She grinned. “Good thing they’re both so young they won’t remember the other’s poor behavior,” she said glancing over to where Pa was still rocking her son. When Allison had first sent a letter saying she was expecting, the two had already decided they’re children would be great friends if Allison had a boy and a wonderful couple if Allison had a girl.

Neither Gray nor Wes, but mostly Wes, liked that particular prospect and gossip had it that he’d already started collecting guns for his arsenal should little Grayson Samuel ever form an interest in his sweet Katherine.

Allison looped her arm through Michaela’s. “I wanted to introduce you to the couple who were gracious enough to let us use their home for the weekend.”

“Of course. How remiss of me not to greet them earlier.”

Allison waved her hand through the air. “They don’t mind. A sweeter couple I’ve never met.” A wistful expression came over her face. “I hope Wes and I are just as much in love with each other as these two are when we’re octogenarians.”

Michaela glanced at the couple as she and Allison approached. She had the same hope for her and Gray.

“Michaela, I’d like you to meet Wes’ grandparents, Gabriel and Marjorie Ellis.”

If you enjoyed The Officer and the Traveler I would appreciate it if you would help others enjoy this book, too.

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More Books by Rose Gordon

Fort Gibson Officers Series

American-set historical romance series that takes place in Indian Territory in the mid-1840s.

The Officer and the Bostoner—While on her way to meet her intended, Allison Pearson was abandoned by her traveling party at a desolate Army fort in the middle of Indian Territory. It’s a good thing there is a handsome, smooth talking officer named Captain Wes Tucker will to temporarily marry her until her intended can reclaim her.

The Officer and the Southerner—Lieutenant Jack Walker sent off for a mail-order bride. Ella Davis answered the ad. Jack forgot to mention a few living details, and Ella’s about to let him know it!

The Officer and the Traveler—Captain Grayson Montgomery's mouth has landed him in trouble again! And this time it's not something a cleverly worded sentence and a handsome smile can fix. Having been informed he'll either have to marry or be demoted and sentenced to hard labor for the remainder of his tour, he proposes, only to discover those years of hard labor may have been the easier choice for his heart.

Coming Soon by Rose Gordon

Gentlemen of Honor Series

Regency set series that is coming in 2014!

Secrets of a Viscount—One summer night, Sebastian Gentry, Lord Belgrave hauled the wrong young lady to Gretna Green. When her identity is exposed, the only obvious solution is to get an annulment. Only, just like his elopement plans, things didn’t go as planned and while she has reason to believe they are no longer married, he knows better. Wanting to make things right for her, he offers to help her find a husband—what neither counts on is it just might be the one she’s still secretly married to.

Desires of a Baron—Giles Goddard, Lord Norcourt is odd. Odder still, he has suddenly taken a fancy to his brother’s love interest, the fallen Lucy Whitaker. Lucy was once thrown over by a lord and she has little desire to let it happen again, but she’s about to learn that his desires just might be enough for the both of them.

Passions of a Gentleman—Having been thrown over twice already, Simon Appleton has given up his pursuit for a wife—especially if his only choice is the elusive Miss Henrietta Hughes. But when he discovers a secret about her, he’s not above helping to protect her...

If you'd like to stay current on Rose's releases, then sign up for her new release newsletter!

And the series that started it all...

Scandalous Sisters Series

Three American sisters have arrived in England for a brief visit, but they’re about to all find something they never bargained for: love.

Intentions of the Earl—Faced with never-ending poverty, a gentleman is offered a handsome sum if he'll ruin a certain young lady's future—only she has other plans, and it might entail her ruining his.

Liberty for Paul—There's only one thing Liberty Banks hates worse than impropriety: one Mr. Paul Grimes, and unfortunately for her, it's her own impropriety that just got her married to him!

To Win His Wayward Wife—Not to be outdone by her sisters' scandalous marriages, Madison Banks is about to have her own marriage-producing scandal to a man who, unbeknownst to her has loved her all along.

Groom Series

Four decided bachelors are about to have their freedom ripped right from their clutches with nothing to show for it but love.

Her Sudden Groom—When informed he must marry within the month or be forced to marry the worst harpy ever to set foot on English shores, the overly scientific, always logical Alex Banks decides to conduct his courtship like a science experiment!

Her Reluctant Groom—Emma Green has loved Marcus, Lord Sinclair for as long as she can remember, so when he slips up and says he loves her, too, it should all be so simple. But it's never that simple when the man in question was once been engaged to and jilted by Emma's older sister.

Her Secondhand Groom—What Patrick Ramsey, Lord Drakely AKA Lord Presumptuous wanted was an ordinary village girl to be a “motherness” to his daughters and stay out of his bedroom; what he’s about to get is something so much more.

Her Imperfect Groom— Sir Wallace Benedict is a thrice-jilted baronet who is about to finally have his happily-ever-after, if only the family of his one-true-love, would stop being so darn meddlesome!

Banks Brothers’ Brides

The first two are prequels to the previous series and the second two are follow ups.

His Contract Bride—Since just a lad, Edward Banks, Lord Watson knew Regina Harris would one day be his bride, he'd seen the paper to prove it many times; only someone forgot to inform Regina...

His Yankee Bride—John Banks wants nothing to do with the scandalous, sweet talking, ever-present, American beauty named Carolina, or so that’s what he keeps saying...

His Jilted Bride—Amelia Brice has a secret...and so does Elijah Banks. Hers is big...but his is bigger!

His Brother's Bride—Presented with a marriage contract his twin brother has signed but cannot fulfill, Henry Banks has to form a plan to save the Banks name, even if it means pretending he's his brother, or worse yet, marrying a lady who holds a grudge against his family.

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling and Award Winning Author Rose Gordon writes unusually unusual historical romances that have been known to include scarred heroes, feisty heroines, marriage-producing scandals, far too much scheming, naughty literature and always a sweet happily-ever-after.  When not escaping to another world via reading or writing a book, she spends her time chasing two young boys around the house, being hunted by wild animals, or sitting on the swing in the backyard where she has to use her arms as shields to deflect projectiles AKA: balls, water balloons, sticks, pinecones, and anything else one of her boys picks up to hurl at his brother who just happens to be hiding behind her.

She can be found somewhere in cyberspace at:

http://www.rosegordon.net

or blogging about something inappropriate at:

http://rosesromanceramblings.wordpress.com

Rose would love to hear from her readers and you can e-mail her at rose.gordon@hotmail.com

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Table of Contents

~Prologue~

~Chapter One~

~Chapter Two~

~Chapter Three~

~Chapter Four~

~Chapter Five~

~Chapter Six~

~Chapter Seven~

~Chapter Eight~

~Chapter Nine~

~Chapter Ten~

~Chapter Eleven~

~Chapter Twelve~

~Chapter Thirteen~

~Chapter Fourteen~

~Chapter Fifteen~

~Chapter Sixteen~

~Chapter Seventeen~

~Chapter Eighteen~

~Chapter Nineteen~

~Chapter Twenty~

~Chapter Twenty-One~

~Chapter Twenty-Two~

~Chapter Twenty-Three~

~Chapter Twenty-Four~

~Chapter Twenty-Five~

~Chapter Twenty-Six~

~Chapter Twenty-Seven~

~Chapter Twenty-Eight~

~Chapter Twenty-Nine~

~Chapter Thirty~

~Chapter Thirty-One~

~Epilogue~

About the Author