Lucas broke out into fresh peals of laughter. Their eyes locked as their breathing came in unison. She raised her hand and touched his face ever so lightly. His skin burned where she caressed him, and the sweet intoxicating musk of her body nearly overwhelmed him. Crushing her to him, his lips pressed against hers, and then gently covered her mouth. The soft curves of her body molded to him, sending shivers pounding through him. Whether Lucas wanted to admit it or not, he was falling in love with this wonderful, infuriatingly independent woman.
The problem was—it was all wrong. She wanted an annulment.
His obsession with her pounded through his heart, chest, and head. His body was afire. Reason hammered him. He had to stop this now. Dragging air into his constricted lungs, he pushed Rachel away.
“I swore an oath to protect you. You haven’t had the normal upbringing or opportunity to see the outside world. A world governed without war, where a young girl goes to parties and teas and balls. That sham of a wedding doesn’t qualify.”
She went rigid. He ignored the urge to haul her back into his arms.
“Stop it, Lucas. I don’t hold you accountable for anything.”
Lucas raked his fingers through his hair and vowed he’d do his damnedest to get her away from the Saint’s influence. “To walk the streets of Washington will be none too soon. I’ll set you up with a friend of mine. She’ll introduce you to Washington society in proper form due a lady. You’ll be invited to balls, teas and whatever extravagant party the Capitol offers. You’ll be able to meet someone who you can marry once our marriage is annulled. It’s the only honorable thing I can do for you. I promise—”
“No promises, Lucas. There were never any strings attached. I knew what I was getting myself into from the beginning and hold no expectation of you. Forgotten. Done. I don’t need you, nor have I ever needed you. I have the Saint.”
She dismissed him with a lift of her dainty shoulder, and Lucas stared down at her, cold savage contempt running through his veins. His voice dangerously low and hissing with fury, he spat out, “The Saint! Always the Saint. I can’t wait until I get my hands on him.”
“What does the Saint matter to you except to win the war for the Union, and to gain your promotion and prestige? He has done you no harm. Beware of that dragon of jealousy before it eats you alive,” she taunted him.
Her voice broke and tears glimmered in her beautiful eyes. “To cast me aside when we reach Washington? At least the Saint has shown me nothing but loyalty.”
He stretched his fingers, struggling to maintain his mask of nonchalance. Snapping the man’s neck would come with great pleasure. Lucas swung her around and prodded her forward.
Chapter Sixteen
“We cannot afford to cross the river here,” Rachel said.
“We can’t afford not to,” Lucas stated, his eyes flinty as steel.
Rachel told herself she would not cry, wouldn’t let Lucas know how much he’d hurt her. He was weighed down with enough guilt and principle to fill the world.
They had plodded twenty miles through a rain-soaked night, along broken roads and deer trails until they reached a river. She wanted to follow the river farther. He wanted to cross as soon as possible. Lucas slid down the muddy bank, turned and lifted his hand. A superior smile covered his face when he angled his head to a banked canoe.
To reach Union lines and be free of the high-minded Colonel Rourke wouldn’t be soon enough. “I can take care of myself,” she said, refusing his assistance. She jumped. A dangling root caught her heel. She pitched forward, crashed into Lucas and slammed them into the mud. Her breath whooshed out of her in puffs. Leaf mold peeped up from the ground and prickled her nose. She scrambled off Lucas and rocked on her knees.
He shot up and wiped the unwelcome mud off his clothes. “That stunt might have broken both our necks.”
She pinned him with a glare. “I wonder if there is an angel that exists that I can pray to for hopeless causes.”
“I hope there is one for stupidity.”
She did not dignify the remark, and then eyed the swollen river, flooding well over its banks. The river yawned, swirling in foam, the currents running fast. The risk lay heavy, the crossing screamed for an eternity. She stood frozen.
“We can’t cross here. It’s impossible…insane.” Her knees trembled. There was no way she’d plunge into the maelstrom. She gulped, looked up, anywhere she’d not have to see the murky waters. Even though it was daytime, the moon appeared like a piece of tissue paper in the sky. “See how the hawk flies in front of the moon. The Indians vowed such a sign was a premonition of bad things.”
“We’ll take the chance. We have no other option and there will be no further argument.” He flipped the canoe over and tipped the bow into the water. He flung her bag into the canoe and strode to her. She shook her head back and forth, icy fear forming a cold knot in her stomach.
“What are you afraid of?”
Rachel pointed to the angry river. “Drowning.”
He stared at her for a moment until awareness dawned on him. “I can’t chase away the ghosts of the past, but I can tell you, we will make it to the other side…it’s only a short way.”
Rachel gaped at the river, seemingly stretching on for miles when the rational side of her brain said it was only a third.
“I’ll be there for you. I promise.” He picked her up, murmuring something about bravery and courage while coaxing her into the canoe. “You believe that admitting to be anything female would scar your soul. It’s all right to be weak once in a while.
Rachel closed her eyes. His warm breath caressed her cheek, comforted while he gently lowered her into the bow.
