Hearts Under Siege (Civil War Collection) Read Online Free Page B

skin, rough with the shadow of a beard, scratching against her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed.
    He placed soft lips against hers. She half gasped and half moaned, swaying almost imperceptibly. When he released her, her eyes flew open, and she was left with a feeling of emptiness.
    She tried to concentrate. She knew she was supposed to slap him or do something equally appropriate to display her outrage at his taking advantage of her. But how could she slap someone whose touch gave her such pleasure? She couldn’t.
    She just sat there, mesmerized. Staring at him with her eyes wide.
    He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Miss Champagne. I shouldn’t have done that. Now, you get some sleep so that you will have strength in the morning.”
    Though she lay her head down and snuggled beneath the scratchy wool blanket, she didn’t think she would sleep this night, not after everything that had happened. But fatigue swept over her and soothed the edges of her raw nerves.
    Despite her doubts, she sank into a peaceful slumber. Then the memories came back in the form of a familiar nightmare, and she hovered on wakefulness.
    When Alexandra was ten, her mother, Lauren, was stricken with yellow fever. Eighteen-fifty-three had been a hot, rainy year, and her mother had spent the last week nursing the slaves.
    “How is Mama?” Alexandra asked, all but pouncing on Grand-père when he reached the bottom stair.
    “I’m sorry, Kitten. She worsens by the hour.” His face was drawn with fatigue, and his hair more gray. Sadness in his eyes went beyond weariness.
    “Let me help her,” Alexandra begged.
    “I can’t do that. You could catch the fever.”
    “I don’t care! I can help her. She taught me how.” She started up the stairs where her mother lay in her bed.
    Grand-père grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently. “Listen to me. I’ll let you speak to her, but only because she’s been calling for you. You mustn’t stay long, and you mustn’t touch her. And stand back away from her.”
    “All right. Let me go.”
    “Do you hear me? You must not touch her,” he demanded, tilting her chin up and forcing her to look into his eyes.
    “Very well,” she said with resignation. “Please, let me see her.”
    Alexandra often thought it would have been easier if she hadn’t seen her mother that day, lying beneath a mound of blankets, her skin a sickly yellow. Her father sat on the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands.
    “Alexandra,” Thomas said, shaking her gently. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
    “It was happening again,” she said, taking a ragged breath.
    “Don’t think about it, chérie,” he said, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “You’re safe now. You’ve been through so much, but you’re safe here.”
    Not thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his cheek. The tears started slowly; then she couldn’t hold them back. The war in itself had created enough hardships to last two lifetimes. This latest tragedy with Jeffy brought back the raw pain of her parents’ deaths from yellow fever. Besides Grand-père, Jeffy was all she had left in the world. She couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.
    Reaching up, she felt for the familiar locket hanging around her neck. Pulling away from Thomas, she gasped. It wasn’t there.
    “Oh, my God!” She jumped up from the bed and ran to the door. Then she stopped and cam e shoulders. “Take hold of yourself, Alexandra. What’s the matter?”
    “My locket. It’s gone. That man broke it from my neck.”
    “The man who attacked you? Is he the one who took it?”
    “Yes, he had to have been. I must find it. It holds the only likeness of my father that exists. He—he died before having a portrait done. I’ve worn his image for ten years.”
    “We’ll get it back. It’ll be light within the hour.”
    Alexandra took a deep breath. Even if she had lost the locket, the important thing was to find