Hearts Under Siege (Civil War Collection) Read Online Free

After mounting the horse, Alexandra’s rescuer reached down and pulled her up in front of him. Sitting sidesaddle, she put her arms around him and leaned her cheek against his shoulder.
    With an urgent kick in the animal’s sides, they headed away from the river. Alexandra dug her fingers into his cotton shirt and clung to his midsection. Twigs scraped at her legs, and leaves tangled in her black hair now trailing down her back. The night air stung her eyes as darkness closed over them. An uncharacteristic chill came off the river.
    She buried her face against his chest as he deftly guided the horse. He smelled of soap and cigars. She didn’t know this man, this Yankee, but she knew he would protect her. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as the events of the evening swept over her in a rush. Would she ever see Jeffy again?
    The man held her tightly against him with his free hand, and with the feel of his steady heartbeat against her, she began to calm. She let the wave of exhaustion take over and numb her aching heart. The feel of his hand against her back was like a balm that refocused her attention and blocked out all thoughts except those that made her aware of his presence…this man whose name she didn’t know.
    ****
    Alexandra woke to the muted glow of candlelight. Totally disoriented as to where she was, she found nothing familiar about her surroundings, from the musty scent to the stiff mattress beneath her.
    “Jeffy,” she called out, sitting up abruptly— her heart racing and her palms sweaty.
    “It’s all right. You’re safe,” the man’s gentle voice announced as he nudged her back down and tucked the stuffy, rough wool blanket beneath her chin.
    “Where am I?” she asked, as memories of her predicament returned.
    “We’re in a cabin I discovered earlier. It’s well hidden from wandering eyes, especially this time of year, what with all the vines flourishing in the moist heat. I didn’t light a fire, though. I didn’t want anyone to see the smoke and discover us.”
    She focused to clear her vision and scanned her surroundings. They were in a one room log cabin, unfurnished except for a crude table and the cot she lay on. His saber and rifle rested nearby on the floor. A flash of fear surged through her at the sight of the weapons, but she quickly returned her gaze to the man’s clear blue eyes and kind features. Her fear receded.
    “What is your name?” she asked, her voice soft.
    “Thomas,” he answered without hesitation.
    “Would that be Captain Thomas?” she asked grasping for some way to avoid the familiarity of his first name.
    He didn’t answer. Instead he went to the window and looked out.
    “Why are you here?”
    “I’m a scout,” he replied, coming back to stand at the end of her cot. “I’m sorry about those men.”
    “It wasn’t your fault. You saved my life.”
    A shadow of a smile crossed his features. “It was nothing any honorable gentleman wouldn’t do.”
    “I didn’t realize there were honorable Yankees.”
    “Of course there are. Just as there are dishonorable Rebs.”
    “I’ve not met a Reb yet who was dishonorable.”
    “Well,” he said, seeming to choose his words carefully. “Perhaps you have, and you just didn’t realize it.”
    “Perhaps, but I’ve never met anyone as despicable as those Yankees out there.” An involuntary shiver ran down her spine.
    “Ma chérie, you had nothing to do with that.” He approached her and placed a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face upwards. “You did nothing wrong. You were only trying to help and got caught up in unfortunate circumstances.”
    “Captain Thomas, why did—?”
    “Please, just call me Thomas.”
    “Very well, Thomas,” she said, determining that the situation, with all she’d been through, allowed some latitude with respect to propriety. “I don’t understand. You’re from up north, yet you spoke French with a Creole accent.”
    “Naturally,” he said, and smiled. “I was