Six
Shouts followed Everett through the night blackened woods. He tightly gripped Grace's hand, guiding her as best he could through the thick underbrush. Twigs and brambles tugged at his legs, and more than once Grace tripped on her full skirts. Despite the heavy darkness, he urged them forward, keeping to the inkiest shadows. Eventually, the shouts dissipated and only the chirp of crickets met his ears.
Even so, Everett pressed on. The deeper into the woods they traveled the safer they would be.
Finally, Grace slowed, tugging on his arm. "Everett," she gasped, completely breathless. "I-I need to-" she released his hand and bent over at the waist, sucking ragged breaths into her lungs. "I need to rest."
"I'm sorry, lass. Take a moment, but we need to keep moving. They'll be looking for us."
She nodded, her expression indiscernible in the night, but he could imagine the despair in her beautiful face. After several quiet moments she straightened and turned to him. "What are we going to do?"
He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. "We'll figure this out, love. Let's find a place to rest for the night and talk it through."
She buried her face in his chest and he could feel her heartache. The certainty that Sarah had orchestrated the Confederate escape and framed Grace solidified within him. He laid his cheek against her soft, sweet smelling hair. Why would anyone treat Grace with such malice?
"Come, my love, we must keep moving."
Grace nodded and pulled away. He took her hand, twining her fingers through his own. Hand in hand the two of them picked through the trees and foliage much more slowly than before. Eventually they crossed a road, which thankfully, appeared deserted.
"I see a barn over there." Grace pointed to the silhouette of a rounded roof through the trees. "Maybe we could hide there for the night."
Everett nodded, striking off toward the farm. "Stay off the road," he urged, keep just inside the trees in case there are soldiers about."
"This farm looks familiar," Grace murmured as they approached the rundown wooden fence behind the barn. "Is this young Cody's farm?"
"Bloody hell," Everett cursed. "Of all the farms to run across it would have to be this one. The lad's father nearly shot us the last time."
Grace was quiet for a long moment and Everett could all but hear the wheels turning in her head. "He never has to know we're here," she reasoned. "No one does. Let's just take cover in an outbuilding until we decide what to do."
Frustrated, Everett raked a hand through his hair. "Very well. But we'll have to keep a weather eye out."
Grace nodded and then ducked under the old fence.
Everett put his hands on the top rung and vaulted it. Carefully the two of them waded through the overgrown grass to the corner of the barn.
"Ruff!" The sharp bark of a dog split the night air followed by a howl of alarm.
"Oh, no," Grace said, dread heavy in her voice. "We've been had."
The creak of a door came from the house and lantern light illuminated a man striding across the back porch. "What is it boy? Coyotes after the chickens again?"
"Be ready to run," Everett whispered.
A fairly small dog with pointed ears and black and white patches trotted toward them, growling.
"Whose there?" The man on the porch hollered. "What are you doing on my property?"
Grace lifted both hands and stepped forward. "We mean no harm, sir. We need help."
A woman and a small child stepped onto the porch behind the man. "Robert, what's going on? Did that woman say she needs help?"
"Yes," Grace replied quickly. "We don't mean any trouble. We just need a place to stay for the night."
"Why are you out here in the first place?" the man, Robert, demanded.
Everett followed Grace's lead, raised his hands, and stepped forward. "It may be for the best if we don't tell you."
"Then I think it best y'all get the hell off my property."
"Wait, Papa," the small child grabbed Robert's arm. "That's Dr. Connors. He's the man that gave me the medicine for mamma."
"That's Dr. Connors?" the woman interrupted. "Robert," she said, hurrying to the front of the porch. "We must help them after what the doctor did for me." She came down the porch steps and beckoned them closer. "I cannot thank you enough, Dr. Connors. I took the medicine religiously, just like you told Cody, and in the last couple of weeks, I finally feel like myself again. Please, come inside, both of you."
Grace and Everett shared a pensive glance before slowly approaching the porch steps.
Robert glowered down at them. "What are y'all doing out here at this hour?"
"Don't press them, Robert, they needn't tell us."
"Lord almighty, Lydia, how do we know they didn't kill someone?"
"We didn't kill anyone," Grace assured. "We—I," she amended, "have been accused of helping three prisoners of war escape. I was also accused of injuring a Union soldier in the process."
Lydia and Robert fell silent and shared a private glance.
"Confederate prisoners of war?"
"Yes. One of them is my brother-in-law."
"Did you free them?"
"No," Grace replied.
"It's complicated," Everett interjected before she could admit that while she hadn't actually committed the crime, she had been planning to do so.
"I wanted to help him," Grace went on. "He's my family, but I would never hurt another person to do it."
"We don't wish to cause you trouble," Everett said. "We were looking for a place to hide for the night until we decide on the best course of action."
Lydia looked up at her husband. "We can hide them in the barn."
Robert shook his head. "I have a better idea. My uncle had a cabin deep in the woods off the back end of this property. He was a loner and the place is mostly hidden by trees and bushes. That's how he liked it. The place has been empty for a few years but it should keep you out of sight."
Lydia nodded. "Good thinking, Robert. I'll fetch some blankets. Come along, Cody, I'll need your help."
Robert glanced between Everett and Grace. "As far as I'm concerned y'all were never here, and we're even for the kindness you showed my wife and boy."
Everett simply nodded.
Lydia and Cody returned quickly with blankets and a small basket of provisions.
Grace stepped forward and graciously accepted the gifts. "Thank you for your assistance."
Cody ran forward suddenly and embraced Everett. "Thank you for fixing my mamma," he said.
Warmed by gesture, Everett wrapped an arm around the boy. "You're very welcome, lad. I'm just glad to know she's well."
Robert quickly gave them directions to the reclusive cabin in the woods.
Everett collected the blankets from Grace. "We should go, lass. I don't want to take a chance on a search party happening by while we're with these good people."
"Yes, of course," Grace acquiesced. She turned to Lydia one last time. "God bless you, and your family."
She hooked the basket securely over one arm, and grasped Everett's hand with the other. Together they hurried back into the inky darkness.
~*~
It took the better part of an hour, but at long last Grace and Everett stumbled across the hidden cabin. Literally stumbled. Everett tripped over a broken bucket and sprawled headlong into the old cabin wall.
Grace rushed to his side. "Everett! Are you all right?"
"I'm damned bloody well fine," he grumbled, brushing off her hands, and shoving back to his feet. He proceeded to utter a stream of the most colorful profanity Grace had ever heard, one made all the more interesting by the Gaelic curses intermixed throughout.
She cringed, and left him to his tirade. Carefully, she circled the brush shrouded cabin, searching for the door. She felt along the outer wall until she located a door handle. To her immense relief the portal opened easily, she stepped inside, but the darkness prevented her from seeing anything. She shifted back into the meager moonlight and knelt to the ground, sifting through Lydia's basket until she found the candle stowed within. She cast a nervous glance around the woods, reassuring herself that she and Everett were completely alone, and then lit the candle. Shielding the meager flame from the wind, she entered the cabin once more.
The cabin was modest, sporting only one room. A stone hearth sat opposite the door and the adjacent walls had a single square window in each. The windows appeared to be shuttered from the outside. A rocking chair sat before the hearth and a table with three stools occupied the center of the room. A bed was positioned in the far corner with a small square table beside it. Grace crossed to the small table and set the candle on it.
She turned to retrieve the basket and found Everett ducking through the door.
"Are you hurt?"
He crossed the room and dumped the pile of blankets onto the bed. He rubbed his left shoulder. "Not seriously."
"Did that torrent of cursing cure you?"
He glanced at her sheepishly. "It's the best medicine for such ailments."
Grace shook her head. Everett and his wit. It came out even in dire situations.
She strode to the open door, fetched the basket, and quickly—finally—shut it on all the ugliness chasing after them in the night.
The weight of her decisions struck her suddenly.
Heavily.
Like water logged wool dragging her into an abyss.
She sucked in a pensive breath, striving to keep her head above water and barricade the metaphorical wave of panic threatening to drown her. Head down, she moved to the bed and busied herself with spreading the quilts over the old mattress. The activity did little to stem the tide, however, as despair overwhelmed her. Her fingers trembled and tears welled in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Everett," she blurted suddenly, a harsh sob escaping her throat.
Seeing her despair, he crossed the room in two strides, face etched with worry and compassion. "You have nothing to be sorry for, love."
She sucked in a shaky breath, unable to stem the stream of tears. "I didn't do this. I swear it. I would never strike Corporal West." How many times had she said that? At least three. If she kept repeating the truth maybe someone would believe her.
"I know that, love. You don't have to convince me." He took her face in his hands, brushing the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "Sarah set you up. I'm sure of it, and I'd wager Shafer is in on it too. You've done nothing wrong." Stepping closer, he grasped her upper arms and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
"But I shouldn't have run. You shouldn't have followed me." She shoved him away as her voice cracked on another sob. "I've gotten you into so much trouble." Visions of him captured and rotting in cell, or... worse, flashed in her mind. "This is all my fault."
"Grace, none of this is your doing." He reached for her again, but she slipped from his grasp. "My choices are my own," he insisted, "and I promised to protect you."
"But I shouldn't have run. I-I panicked," she cried. "Now this will be so much worse for both of us."
"I never would have let them lock you up," he declared. "If you hadn't run, I would have taken you."
She looked up at him, tears blurring his handsome visage.
"I'm here because I love you, Grace."
The words were her undoing. She flung her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. "Why? Why do you love me? I'm nothing but trouble. You were willing to commit treason for me. I should never have asked you to do that. I was thinking of my sister and Joshua. I didn't stop to consider the other consequences."
"Grace, I love you because you are the kind of person that sees the gray."
She lulled her head back, searching his face through the curtain of tears. "I don't understand?"
He took her face in his hands, smoothing the trickle of tears along her cheeks. "You believe in doing what's right regardless of uniform or flag. Your beliefs aren't black and white. You walk in the gray." He leaned close, his brogue thick and husky. "The world would be a better place if more people lived in the gray." His breath breezed over her flesh as he spoke, sending shivers of awareness across her skin. "If more people were like you." Before she could respond, he leaned in and eclipsed her lips with his own.
Grace's heart hammered and she went weak with the passion emanating from his touch. Her knees threatened to buckle, but Everett's strong arms steeled around her, keeping her anchored. She curled her arms around his shoulders, snuggling herself against his muscular frame. In this moment, the only gray she wished to live in were his lovely eyes. She wanted to lose herself in him body and soul. She parted her lips, deepening the kiss, and letting her fears slip away for just a little while. She didn't know what would happen, but right now she would remember what it felt like to be happy...
To be in love...
To be with a man...
Trembling fingers dropped to the buttons at the top of his shirt. She clumsily unfastened the top two and her fingers grazed his bare skin. He tensed beneath her touch. She shifted to the third button and he grasped her hands in his, breaking the bond of their lips.
"Grace," he whispered. "Wh-what are you doing?"
Her heart tripped a little, but undeterred she stood on tip toe to breeze her lips across his once more. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Aye, lassy, but..." his voice trailed off and she took the opportunity to kiss him again. He groaned and slid his lips along her jaw to the curve of her throat? "Now?" he questioned against the soft flesh just above her pulse point. "Here? Like this?"
Grace wrapped her arms around his neck and twined her fingers through the thick hair at his nape. "There may never be another time, Everett. If tonight is all we have, I want it to be with you."
~*~
Everett gazed into her sultry come-hither eyes and his resolve... dissolved. He didn't speak, but words weren't necessary. His entire body language morphed as fire engulfed him. With a low growl he scooped up her lithe frame, lifting her clear off the floor.
Grace gasped, and he was certain pure delight lived in the sound. He carried her to the edge of of the old bed, and settled her onto the quilt she'd spread just minutes before. Her hair was wild from their long jaunt through the woods, and had long since tumbled loose from the pins. The dark silken mass cascaded around her face and shoulders like melted chocolate. She lay back, never breaking the bond of their eyes, and he followed her down.
Her arms curled around him and he knew the sudden sense of coming home. Of finding that one place in the world that he belonged. The strangest thing was that he hadn't realized how desperately his soul had been searching for it. His heart skipped a beat and for a moment he simply stared into her face, memorizing every beautiful curve. She lay perfectly still, her only movement the gentle quickening of her breath, as though sensing his need to freeze time if only for a moment.
Slowly, reverently, he lowered his head and gently caressed the soft flesh of her throat with his lips. A hint of rosewater lingered on her skin, the scent deliciously enticing. He shifted his weight to the side, the old bed creaking beneath their combined weight. His fingers nimbly released the tiny buttons at the front of her gown, opening the restrictive fabric to reveal the lovely pale chemise underneath. Eager for more, he slipped a hand inside, grazing her perfectly round breast.
She shivered at the touch and it seemed to spark her to action. She slid both hands beneath his his shirt, teasing it up and over his head. Her smooth palms explored every inch of his heated flesh, driving him to madness.
"Your turn," he said huskily, rising up just enough to help her shed the heavy gown shielding her from him.
Soon she lay before him in nothing more than her sheer chemise. The flickering candlelight danced over her milky skin, illuminating every flawless curve and swell. A rosy flush crept along her neck and into her cheeks. He smiled to himself, realizing that his fearless vixen, the woman never afraid to take exactly what she wanted, was every bit as nervous and vulnerable as he. His gaze locked tenderly with hers, and the love blossoming inside him deepened in that moment. He dipped his head and took her mouth in an exchange that rapidly turned to fire. He'd intended to go slowly, to memorize every inch of her and this night to memory, but the passions between them blazed through his restraint.
Grace consumed him.
He explored every inch of her body with abandon, and she matched him in every stroke and touch. Hastily they stripped away the clothes remaining between them, and fell into a natural rhythm, a dance as old as time. Lying skin to skin, Grace's heart thudded against his chest, a perfect match to his own wild pulse. The sensation was powerful, a confirmation that he was destined for this woman.
She filled him.
Made him whole.
Surrounded him, both physically and spiritually.
The delicious friction of her palms against his bare skin... her smell... her taste... Her very essence banished all coherent thought and drove him to the brink of oblivion. Her fevered moans and gasps of pleasure told him that she too approached the edge, and together, as one, they crested in an oblivion of pleasure.
Breathing ragged, Everett collapsed in a haze of contentment. He rolled to the side and cradled Grace in his arms. She curled against him, stretching an arm across his chest, and letting her leg rest over his.
A sweet sigh escaped her lips.
Everett placed a kiss against her hair. He knew she was exhausted. "Sleep, love. I've got you."
She simply nodded against his chest and after a few minutes the slow steady rush of her breathing told him she'd drifted off.
Sleep proved more elusive for Everett. He relished the weight of her in his arms, and the memory of her eager love making, but... The circumstances which had driven them to the secluded cabin hovered over him like a black cloud.
Gently he stroked Grace's arm as she slept. He never wanted to let her go.
Unfortunately, he sensed that her sensual surrender that night was due to belief that she had no hope for the future.
And at the moment, he had no idea how to safely secure one for her.