Rachel knelt and closed his eyes, began to shake and broke out into sobs. Lucas yanked her away to quell the agony emanating from within her soul. Her tears wetted his shirt. No words were enough to protect her from the reality of war and death.
“He died alone,” she sniffed.
“Sad fact of war,” Lucas said. “There has been no darker or bloodier ground than the gentle fields of Virginia where murder has bred murder and justice distributed on the barrelhead.”
“What is said to the boy’s mother? What answers are given to his wife or sweetheart?”
Lucas had no answers. He took the soldier’s name from his identification papers, covered him the best he could and added some prayers.
A steady and miserable rain began to pour. After several hours of travel, the rain stopped, and skies cleared, giving way to a bright autumn moon. The rains had turned the road into a sea of mud. Lucas righted Rachel whenever she slipped in the soft ooze. He had pilfered a few overcoats from a slumbering farmhouse, and now pulled her collar up and buttoned her coat. A chestnut curl escaped, and he tucked it beneath her wig.
He had a frustrating desire to kiss her soft lips. But the kiss never came. Time and practicality ruled. To begin something he’d not or would not stop might prove dangerous for both of them.
“What do you think of me?” she asked, and Lucas wondered what she wanted.
“I think you have a talent for survival. I think you are more intelligent and more sophisticated than any woman I’ve ever encountered. What I find out of the question is your career path as a woman.” He cleaned away the mud from her nose and cheek and forehead. Despite her disguise, Lucas remembered the raw beauty that lay hidden beneath.
“Well—” she drawled. “I cannot see that my being a woman has anything to do with the course I have chosen.”
Lucas twisted coils of vine around her broken bag, heard the throaty inflection in her voice and grew wary. “Right.”
“After all,” she looked at him, appearing innocent save for the twinkle in her amber eyes, “I could have been a man.” She met his disgusted look with a peal of laughter, so light and lovely to the ear that he found himself smiling in response.
Lucas tugged twigs from her hair, grinning from her mercurial change in mood. He had worried about the effect of the dead soldier. Her lips turned up with a hint of mischievousness, and he knew she was warming up to something.
“There was girl in Richmond who was spiteful every time I came into contact with her. She claimed I was an ugly hag who would dry up into a wizened, bitter old maid, for no sane man would take me for his wife. I held my temper and ignored her.”
Lucas narrowed his eyes in the encroaching darkness, and he said, “You ignored her? I imagine it was an impossible feat for you.”
“Oh, yes.”
“I have the distinct feeling you’d have the last word.”
“Not at all.” Rachel gave a dainty shrug of her slim shoulders. “There were no words. You see my foot accidentally slipped in front of hers, causing her to trip and fall face first in the mud.”
“Of course,” Lucas said, picturing the injured girl’s rage. “And I’m sure you offered your sincere apologies.” He could feel her smile through the darkness.
“My most sincere apologies. I also offered her use of my parasol.”
“How benevolent of you.” Lucas grinned. “I’m sure that made up for everything.”
Rachel laughed. “Not exactly.”
“Care to enlighten me?” he said, enjoying her camaraderie despite his growling stomach.
“Can you envision her face when she opened her parasol and a mouse fell out, scrambling over her hair and into her chemise?”
“Poor girl is probably still recovering.”
Rachel laughed so hard she had to wipe her eyes.
“Am I to assume the poor girl suffered more?”
“From her screams, she frightened a skunk sleeping in a basket in the back of her carriage.”
“Am I to assume, the skunk just happened to be resting in that unique location?”
Rachel dropped her chin to her chest, penitent as a nun. “It is unfortunate.”
