| Confederate Rose Opening Chapters |
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Chapter One (Continued)
"From here, I'd be thinking about ten miles." She didn't want to give him any indication of her camp's location.
"The sun is setting. You'll never make it back before nightfall."
She glanced at the reddening sky beyond the trees. Too late now to return to camp. She bit her lip, trying to
decide what she should do. "Yer not suggesting we pitch camp right here?"
"It's as good a place as any. But sleeping out here in those wet clothes, you'll likely freeze to death."
Katie considered the situation. She could plead shyness. The cover of trees and her blankets would shield
her, and he'd think nothing of her reservation to disrobe.
"From here, I'd be thinking about ten miles." She didn't want to give him any indication of her camp's location.
"The sun is setting. You'll never make it back before nightfall."
She glanced at the reddening sky beyond the trees. Too late now to return to camp. She bit her lip, trying to
decide what she should do. "Yer not suggesting we pitch camp right here?"
"It's as good a place as any. But sleeping out here in those wet clothes, you'll likely freeze to death."
Katie considered the situation. She could plead shyness. The cover of trees and her blankets would shield
her, and he'd think nothing of her reservation to disrobe.
| Confederate Rose American Historical Romance The Wild Rose Press |
He rifled through his pack and extracted a dry, white cotton shirt and dark gray wool trousers. He
dropped his blanket, pulled off his sack coat, and yanked down his braces. Her breath caught.
He was going to undress right in front of her. Despite her strict, Roman Catholic upbringing, she
couldn't tear her eyes away when he peeled off his shirt and undershirt. Gooseflesh rose on his
muscular arms and chest. Coarse chestnut hair spread between taut, brown nipples and trailed
down beneath the waist of his trousers. Katie bit her lip, heat rising to her cheeks.
"Aren't you going to change?" Hart spread his dry shirt over his chest.
"I...ah...yes, I'll get me clothes."
He sat and yanked off his boots and socks. When he stood and loosened his trousers, she
averted her eyes. She busied herself in her pack, taking out a dry, muslin shirt, butternut britches,
flannel underwear, and socks. She looked for a place where she could shield herself while she
undressed. If she crept into the firs and draped a blanket and quilt across the branches, maybe
while the man finished dressing, she could quickly change.
Katie spread the quilt and blanket across a pine bough as a barrier. After removing the sodden
sack coat, she yanked off her brogans and socks, then slid down her trousers and underwear.
dropped his blanket, pulled off his sack coat, and yanked down his braces. Her breath caught.
He was going to undress right in front of her. Despite her strict, Roman Catholic upbringing, she
couldn't tear her eyes away when he peeled off his shirt and undershirt. Gooseflesh rose on his
muscular arms and chest. Coarse chestnut hair spread between taut, brown nipples and trailed
down beneath the waist of his trousers. Katie bit her lip, heat rising to her cheeks.
"Aren't you going to change?" Hart spread his dry shirt over his chest.
"I...ah...yes, I'll get me clothes."
He sat and yanked off his boots and socks. When he stood and loosened his trousers, she
averted her eyes. She busied herself in her pack, taking out a dry, muslin shirt, butternut britches,
flannel underwear, and socks. She looked for a place where she could shield herself while she
undressed. If she crept into the firs and draped a blanket and quilt across the branches, maybe
while the man finished dressing, she could quickly change.
Katie spread the quilt and blanket across a pine bough as a barrier. After removing the sodden
sack coat, she yanked off her brogans and socks, then slid down her trousers and underwear.
She donned a spare pair of drawers, then pulled on the dry britches.
Her shirt and flannel undershirt were saturated, too. After she removed them, she bent down to retrieve a dry shirt. A baritone voice,
sounding much too close, called, "Get a move on, boy. It looks like a storm's coming in."
Hart peeked over the edge of the blanket. "What's the matter, son? You bashful?"
Katie gasped and clutched the shirt against her chest.
His eyes widened, then narrowed as he took in her form. "What the--?"
She didn't move as his gaze roamed over her body.
"You're no boy."
Chapter Two
Alex studied the young woman. Before she'd hastily covered herself, he'd glimpsed the small, white mounds of her breasts. Now he
knew why she'd been so shy about disrobing.
His gaze fastened on her delicate features. Gray eyes fringed with reddish-gold lashes, a delicate nose, and rosebud lips
complemented a rosy complexion spattered with light brown freckles. Now that he knew she wasn't a boy, he could appreciate the
narrow waist and feminine features. She must have a reason for pretending to be male. Was she afraid of him, or did she hide her sex
from the men in her camp?
She held the muslin shirt up as if it were a shield.
"Get dressed," he ordered. He turned away to give her privacy.
He wrung out his own wet clothing, then rolled it together, and shoved the soggy roll into his pack. The girl emerged from behind the
blanket, wrapped in the quilt. She glanced at him, eyes wide.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She gulped, drawing his gaze to her slender, delicate throat. "I told you--"
"I mean, your real name."
She bit her lip. "Katie...Katie O'Reilly."
"Pleased to meet you, Miss O'Reilly."
"'Tis Mrs. O'Reilly."
"Pardon me." He studied her. She looked too young to be married. "Where's your husband, ma'am? In camp?"
"Aye...I've got to get back."
Now the disguise made sense. While serving as a lieutenant in Federal camp the first year of the war, Alex had encountered a woman
who'd followed her husband into the military and pretended to be a man, sharing his tent. She wasn't discovered until ten months later
when she delivered a baby girl.
He eyed the girl as she huddled and shivered in the blankets. Dry clothes would help, but they also needed a fire to ward off the cold. He
didn't think building one here would be wise, though. They might alert a patrol. He didn't want to encounter any soldiers of either army
right now.
"On my way here, I noticed a cabin just up the road a spell. Didn't see anybody around. Reckon we could see if it's empty, or if
someone's there, they might take us in for the night."
She frowned. "You can go if you want. I'll be just fine on me own right here."
"Reckon it'll get mighty cold tonight, ma'am."
"There's plenty of wood. I know how to build a fire."
"You're not afraid of alerting Yankee patrols?"
"I can take care of meself, Mr. Hart. I was doing it long before I signed on with the army."
"Your husband doesn't mind you being out here alone like this?"
She hesitated and gathered the quilt tighter. After lowering her gaze, she looked at him defiantly. "I do what I bloody well want. No man
owns me."
Alex smiled. He'd seen women like her before. His own fiancee, a pampered Southern belle, had been willful and headstrong.
"Well, then..." He lifted his saddlebags onto his horse. "Reckon I'll be moving on."
"Are you going to the cabin, then, Mr. Hart?"
"I'll see if I can spend the night there. Then first thing tomorrow, I'll head home."
"You never told me where your family lives, sir."
"Just south of Winchester, ma'am."
"You were on yer way home from Richmond, then?"
"Ah...no, I'm on my way south after a visit with my mother. She lives alone."
"You've no wife, then?"
"No, ma'am."
When she didn't say anything more, he turned to his gelding. After mounting, he turned back. "You're sure you won't come with me,
ma'am?"
"No, Mr. Hart, you go on. I'll be fine here by meself."
He didn't like leaving her like this, especially now that he knew she was a woman. He'd been brought up to protect women. But he
couldn't force her to go with him.
How could her husband allow her to travel alone with a war going on?
He tipped his hat in farewell, then turned his mount toward the road. He wanted to find shelter before it got dark. If that cabin he'd spied
was deserted, it would be all the better for what he planned to do. Besides, he didn't like the look of the slate clouds dominating the sky.
****
Katie watched the man's horse canter down the wooded trail. Her mind flicked back to the sight of his naked chest, rippling with
muscles. She bit her lip as sinful thoughts threatened to send her running after him.
She collected twigs to start a fire. Her fingers tingled when she recalled the feel of Rory's chest under her hands, while thoughts drifted
to the last time they'd spent alone before the battle at Sharpsburg.
They'd been camped in Maryland in the woods outside the town with Federal troops close by. A battle seemed imminent. He'd come to
the tent they shared, and they made love that night for the last time.
"Oh, Rory," Katie murmured. She placed twigs over the few logs she'd scrounged up. "I miss you so."
She dug in her haversack for a match and considered her predicament. The pile of wood seemed pitifully small, and the night would
surely be long and cold. She'd have to pull out the axe and chop some more, but she was so tired.
Maybe she should have gone with Mr. Hart. He seemed harmless, and he had saved her from drowning. She shuddered when she
recalled the feel of the water, like hundreds of icy fingers clawing, trying to pull her under.
After rummaging through the pack for the small axe, Katie removed it and searched for a sturdy branch she could chop up to get her
through the night. With the sky so overcast, she could barely see a hand in front of her face. She had to get the lantern lit.
Patting Morna's flank, she squinted at the ground behind the mare. Something was missing.
"Where's me other pack? The mailbag!" She crawled on hands and knees around the tree where she'd left both packs.
"The bastard!" Could she still catch him? She'd have to find him before the overcast sky combined with the approaching nightfall made it
too difficult to see. She gathered her things and saddled Morna. He wouldn't get away with this.
****
Available now from The Wild Rose Press
Her shirt and flannel undershirt were saturated, too. After she removed them, she bent down to retrieve a dry shirt. A baritone voice,
sounding much too close, called, "Get a move on, boy. It looks like a storm's coming in."
Hart peeked over the edge of the blanket. "What's the matter, son? You bashful?"
Katie gasped and clutched the shirt against her chest.
His eyes widened, then narrowed as he took in her form. "What the--?"
She didn't move as his gaze roamed over her body.
"You're no boy."
Chapter Two
Alex studied the young woman. Before she'd hastily covered herself, he'd glimpsed the small, white mounds of her breasts. Now he
knew why she'd been so shy about disrobing.
His gaze fastened on her delicate features. Gray eyes fringed with reddish-gold lashes, a delicate nose, and rosebud lips
complemented a rosy complexion spattered with light brown freckles. Now that he knew she wasn't a boy, he could appreciate the
narrow waist and feminine features. She must have a reason for pretending to be male. Was she afraid of him, or did she hide her sex
from the men in her camp?
She held the muslin shirt up as if it were a shield.
"Get dressed," he ordered. He turned away to give her privacy.
He wrung out his own wet clothing, then rolled it together, and shoved the soggy roll into his pack. The girl emerged from behind the
blanket, wrapped in the quilt. She glanced at him, eyes wide.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She gulped, drawing his gaze to her slender, delicate throat. "I told you--"
"I mean, your real name."
She bit her lip. "Katie...Katie O'Reilly."
"Pleased to meet you, Miss O'Reilly."
"'Tis Mrs. O'Reilly."
"Pardon me." He studied her. She looked too young to be married. "Where's your husband, ma'am? In camp?"
"Aye...I've got to get back."
Now the disguise made sense. While serving as a lieutenant in Federal camp the first year of the war, Alex had encountered a woman
who'd followed her husband into the military and pretended to be a man, sharing his tent. She wasn't discovered until ten months later
when she delivered a baby girl.
He eyed the girl as she huddled and shivered in the blankets. Dry clothes would help, but they also needed a fire to ward off the cold. He
didn't think building one here would be wise, though. They might alert a patrol. He didn't want to encounter any soldiers of either army
right now.
"On my way here, I noticed a cabin just up the road a spell. Didn't see anybody around. Reckon we could see if it's empty, or if
someone's there, they might take us in for the night."
She frowned. "You can go if you want. I'll be just fine on me own right here."
"Reckon it'll get mighty cold tonight, ma'am."
"There's plenty of wood. I know how to build a fire."
"You're not afraid of alerting Yankee patrols?"
"I can take care of meself, Mr. Hart. I was doing it long before I signed on with the army."
"Your husband doesn't mind you being out here alone like this?"
She hesitated and gathered the quilt tighter. After lowering her gaze, she looked at him defiantly. "I do what I bloody well want. No man
owns me."
Alex smiled. He'd seen women like her before. His own fiancee, a pampered Southern belle, had been willful and headstrong.
"Well, then..." He lifted his saddlebags onto his horse. "Reckon I'll be moving on."
"Are you going to the cabin, then, Mr. Hart?"
"I'll see if I can spend the night there. Then first thing tomorrow, I'll head home."
"You never told me where your family lives, sir."
"Just south of Winchester, ma'am."
"You were on yer way home from Richmond, then?"
"Ah...no, I'm on my way south after a visit with my mother. She lives alone."
"You've no wife, then?"
"No, ma'am."
When she didn't say anything more, he turned to his gelding. After mounting, he turned back. "You're sure you won't come with me,
ma'am?"
"No, Mr. Hart, you go on. I'll be fine here by meself."
He didn't like leaving her like this, especially now that he knew she was a woman. He'd been brought up to protect women. But he
couldn't force her to go with him.
How could her husband allow her to travel alone with a war going on?
He tipped his hat in farewell, then turned his mount toward the road. He wanted to find shelter before it got dark. If that cabin he'd spied
was deserted, it would be all the better for what he planned to do. Besides, he didn't like the look of the slate clouds dominating the sky.
****
Katie watched the man's horse canter down the wooded trail. Her mind flicked back to the sight of his naked chest, rippling with
muscles. She bit her lip as sinful thoughts threatened to send her running after him.
She collected twigs to start a fire. Her fingers tingled when she recalled the feel of Rory's chest under her hands, while thoughts drifted
to the last time they'd spent alone before the battle at Sharpsburg.
They'd been camped in Maryland in the woods outside the town with Federal troops close by. A battle seemed imminent. He'd come to
the tent they shared, and they made love that night for the last time.
"Oh, Rory," Katie murmured. She placed twigs over the few logs she'd scrounged up. "I miss you so."
She dug in her haversack for a match and considered her predicament. The pile of wood seemed pitifully small, and the night would
surely be long and cold. She'd have to pull out the axe and chop some more, but she was so tired.
Maybe she should have gone with Mr. Hart. He seemed harmless, and he had saved her from drowning. She shuddered when she
recalled the feel of the water, like hundreds of icy fingers clawing, trying to pull her under.
After rummaging through the pack for the small axe, Katie removed it and searched for a sturdy branch she could chop up to get her
through the night. With the sky so overcast, she could barely see a hand in front of her face. She had to get the lantern lit.
Patting Morna's flank, she squinted at the ground behind the mare. Something was missing.
"Where's me other pack? The mailbag!" She crawled on hands and knees around the tree where she'd left both packs.
"The bastard!" Could she still catch him? She'd have to find him before the overcast sky combined with the approaching nightfall made it
too difficult to see. She gathered her things and saddled Morna. He wouldn't get away with this.
****
Available now from The Wild Rose Press
copyright 2009 by Susan Macatee