Shades of Gray: A Novel of the Civil War in Virginia (51 page)

By the
time
Andrea removed her soaked undergarments and readjusted the
quilt, Hunter
had shed his shirt and was busy once again stirring the fire.

“Comfortable?” Hunter asked over his shoulder
after she sat on the rug. Andrea nodded with chattering teeth but kept her gaze
averted.

“Here, get a little closer.” He pulled her and
the rug nearer the fire, keenly aware now of the effort she made not to look at
him. Deciding to ignore it, he stood and turned toward the cupboards. “I might
have something to warm you up.”

After much banging and clattering, he returned
to the fireplace carrying a bottle of whiskey and two tin cups. “It’s not much,
but it will take off the chill.” He poured a small amount in a cup and handed
it to her as if she were a guest at a tea party.

Andrea lifted the cup, and with shaking hands,
emptied its contents. Hunter waited for her to grimace or choke. But when she
did neither, he poured another.

“You come here often?” She looked up at him
through wet clumps of hair.

Hunter shrugged and turned back to the fire. “I
used to come up a lot before the war. When I was married.”

“You needed a place to get away from your wife?”

Watching her empty the cup again, he sighed.
“It’s a long story.”

“You didn’t love her?”

He threw another piece of wood on the fire,
trying to decide whether to answer or not. “It was an arrangement of sorts. A
match planned by my grandfather. I was young and naive and wanted to respect
his wishes.”

“Even though you didn’t love her?”

He glanced back at Andrea, wondering if the
whiskey impelled her to ask so many questions. “I would have made it work,
could have looked past all of her faults … save one.” He began stabbing roughly
at the fire.

“She was unfaithful.” Andrea whispered the words
as if it was an act impossible to comprehend.

Hunter sighed and stared into the flames. “John
Paul.” He tried to sound indifferent, though it hurt to think about it even
now. “As it turned out, she was everything I despise in women.”

Andrea remained quiet as if pondering in her
mind the type of woman that would choose John Paul over Hunter. “That makes it
sound like you despise all women,” she finally said.

He did not answer. Instead he poked again at the
wood, sending a cascade of sparks up the chimney.

“U-m-m, the fire feels good.”

Appreciating her attempt to change the subject,
Hunter turned around and gave her a smile. “Getting warm?”

“On the inshide and the outshide.”

“Looks like you’ve had enough to drink.”

Andrea returned his smile and stretched out on
the rug, causing Hunter’s heart to involuntarily thump against his chest.
Reaching toward the bed, he threw a pillow in her direction.

“You comfortable?” He propped himself on one
elbow beside her and concentrated on the fire flickering in front of him.

“I wish I could feel like this forever.” She lay
on her back staring at the ceiling with the blanket wrapped tightly around her.

“Like what?”

“Warm. Safe. Secure.”

Hunter laughed and rolled onto his back to stare
at the ceiling as well. “You’re the only woman I know that could feel safe and
secure locked away in the middle of nowhere in a violent storm with the enemy.”

Andrea opened her eyes and turned her head
toward him. “The enemy?”

“Last time I checked there was a war going on.”
He lifted himself up on one arm and downed a cup of the amber liquid. “You’ve
not been unclear about telling me that I’m the—”

Andrea put her fingers to his lips. “Not here. 
I don’t want there to be any war tonight.” Then she lay back and stared upward
again.

“You can’t make it go away by wishing it away.”
Hunter laughed. “I’m at a loss to know which is greater, your will or your
imagination. You are determined not to see the world as it really is.”

Andrea smiled. “You should try it, Colonel.
Because imagination or not, I fear we are stuck here tonight and as good as a
million miles from the savage world of war. So what is the harm in pretending
it does not exist?”

He gazed at her angelic face, contemplating her
rationale.

“You see? Can you believe it, Colonel?”

Hunter quickly shifted his eyes to stare
indifferently at the fire. “Believe what?”

“That we can have a civil conversation with one
another. Talk without one or the other giving or taking offense.”

 “Actually, it’s long been among my wishes,” he
said wistfully, “but realistically not one of my expectations.”

“I know.” She sighed deeply. “I have incurred
your displeasure countless times.”

He smiled. “And I, yours.”

“Perhaps less often than you think, sir.”

“Well to tell you the truth, you are displeasing
me right now.”

Andrea turned her head toward him. “I am?”

“Yes. If you insist there is no war, then I must
insist you call me by my given name. Which, in case you did not know, is not
Colonel
.
Nor is it
Commander
. And it is not
sir
.”

Andrea looked at him questioningly and then
smiled. “Fair enough …  Alex.”

Hunter swallowed hard in response to the surge
of warmth his name on her lips produced. Was it the alcohol that caused this
confusing sensation? Or had he seen something in her eyes before she turned
away?

“And this
does not frighten you?” He shifted his gaze from the fire to the serene look on
her face as she lay with closed eyes. “Being alone with me?”

There was no pause before she answered. “Of
course not.
I trust you
.”

Hunter watched her eyes fly open the instant the
words left her mouth, seeming to be as startled to have said them aloud as he
was to hear them.

“You trust me?” With his face just inches from
hers, he probed her green eyes for answers.

She remained silent a moment as if searching for
the right words as her eyes flicked across his face. “The only fault I can find
is the color of your uniform, but you wear it with honor.” She paused and
swallowed hard as if admitting this fact to herself for the first time. “I have
no reason not to trust an honorable man.”

Hunter’s chest rose with a deep, shaky breath.
“Your trust may be ill advised. An honorable man would not think what I am
thinking.”

He meant the statement to diffuse a precarious
situation, but it did not work. Instead, he found it necessary to avert his
gaze from Andrea, because she appeared to be wearing the expression he’d wished
to see all day. Hunter tried to concentrate on the flickering flames of the
fire rather than those two green eyes that suddenly held so much acceptance.

“We are from
two worlds,” he finally said, reminding himself of their loyalties and
obligations. He swallowed hard again, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.
From the very core of his soul, he strove to resist the temptation to touch
her, or even look at her again—afraid if he did, sparks would fly.

“You speak as Hunter the soldier,” Andrea said,
her voice strangely soft. “Not as Hunter the man.” She lifted her hand to his
face, touched the rough stubble on his chin with her fingertips, then moved her
hand to his hair, as if it was something she had long desired to feel.

Hunter blinked at the contact and gave an
involuntary shudder. His breathing came faster now, his chest rising and
falling with the effort. He grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Andrea, you don’t
know what you’re doing.”

Their eyes locked. “Teach me.”

A flash of lightning lit up the room at that
moment, and for an instant Hunter saw her face clearly in the brilliant light.
Her eyes were no longer big and innocent. They were seductive and enchanting
and intoxicating, made even more so under the influence of the fire’s soft
glow.

“We are at peace?” Hunter’s pulse throbbed as he
waited for an answer. Blood tingled and burned in every vein. He struggled to
breathe without gasping.

Andrea did
not bother to answer with words. She placed her trembling fingers upon his
shoulders, touching the soft skin stretched taut across hard muscles. Hunter
flinched and moaned softly, the contact almost more than he could endure. With
a reverent movement of his hand, the quilt fell away, and there was suddenly
flesh on flesh, pounding heart upon pounding heart. With the barrier of war
lifted, the long-restrained powder keg ignited into flame.

* * *

Hunter awoke to a sense of deep, inexplicable
peace. He lay in silent contemplation, staring at the flickering glow of the
dying fire, intensely aware of the beat of another heart against his own.

A smile crossed his lips when his groggy mind
considered the possibility of waking to this feeling each morning, and feeling
this sense of contentment each day. The more he thought about it the more he
looked forward to pouring out his feelings and letting his affection be known.

But then
reality set in. His heart, seemingly of its own accord, began pounding in such
frantic reaction to his thoughts that he feared it would wake her. He could
accept having fallen in love with the enemy—but could she?

There may have been no North and South last
night, but there would be today. He knew well the effects of whiskey on an
empty stomach and tired mind, and he feared that without its intoxicating
influence, he would once again be a foe—one that had taken advantage of her
youth and innocence.

Yes, she would be angry. He was sure of it.
Mother Nature may have kept the world at bay last night, but it was morning
now. Andrea would never forgive him for making her feel she had to make a
choice between her beloved Union and him.

What have I done?

In that moment of uncertainty, Hunter decided
that rather than admit something had happened between them, it would be better
to pretend nothing had happened at all. But before he slipped out from under
her, he did as she had done on the balcony that warm, summer night. He closed
his eyes, opened his hand and brought it back to his heart to effectively store
the passion and emotions there, forming a memory that would be vivid and real
to him to his last breath.

* * *

Andrea awoke to morning light streaming in
through the window and a fire that was only a bed of hot ashes. Before she had
time to wonder where Hunter had gone, the door opened and he appeared, wearing
his coat, but no shirt beneath it.

She looked down and realized she now wore the
large garment that hung to her knees, but Hunter did not appear to notice. He
walked by and poured a cup of coffee with nothing but a remote, detached look
in his eye—the same look that had infuriated her on so many previous occasions.

“The horses are ready,” he said with callous
indifference. “We’d better get a move on. They’ll be worried.”

Andrea was stunned, then incensed, unable to
believe his conduct could be so uncaring and cold after his passionate display
just a few hours previous. Then again, why should she be surprised? He was
after all a man—and a Rebel at that!

Removing the shirt in one swoop, she aimed for
the back of his head. “You mean
Victoria
will be worried!”

By the time Hunter unwrapped the cloth from
around his neck, Andrea had pulled on her dress and was limping unceremoniously
to the door, picking up her undergarments as she walked.

“Andrea, wait
—
” She slammed the door shut
before he could finish.

Chapter
50

“Look what fools these mortals be.”

– William Shakespeare

Andrea successfully avoided conversation both on
the wagon ride home and the rest of the day. But her attempts to avoid her own
memories that night failed miserably. Although she searched her mind, she
recollected no words of devotion spoken. Hunter’s actions may have implied, but
never really confirmed, any newfound admiration for her.

Tossing and turning in bed, she strove to push
all thoughts of the incident from her head. It had been an act of simple lust,
nothing more—lust brought on by intoxication and hunger and fatigue. Why or how
she could have behaved that way, she could not understand. But it was over with
now, over and done. She had to forget it ever happened. As Hunter had done.

Giving up on sleep, Andrea crawled from her bed
a little before dawn. Tiptoeing down the steps, she hurried out the door, and
gasped at three shadowy figures standing on the porch talking in low, hushed
tones.

Colonel
Hunter, Major Carter, and Captain Pierce seemed to be in the middle of a very
important council of war. At the sound of her approach, all three heads jerked
around at once. At the sight of her, all three removed hats in unison.

“Mornin’, Miss Evans.” Carter was the first to
find his tongue.

“Major Carter.” Andrea nodded. “Captain Pierce.”
She looked the latter in the eye, but Pierce quickly averted his gaze. As for
Colonel Hunter, she did not say his name or acknowledge his presence.

“I-I couldn’t sleep. I regret the intrusion.”
Without pausing, she continued on her way.

In a matter
of moments, Andrea inhaled the soothing scent of the barn, and the violent
pounding of her heart began to ease. She followed the sound of banging buckets
to find Zach preparing the horses’ feed. “Good morning!”

“Morning, Miz Andrea,” he replied with a large
smile.

When she turned back around to visit Justus, she
nearly ran into Captain Pierce.

“Colonel sent me down to get a fresh horse,” he
said to Zach, ignoring Andrea. “Mine seems to have picked up a stone. Be quick
about it.”

Zach disappeared to retrieve a horse, and Pierce
turned back to begin unsaddling the mare that stood in the aisle. Andrea watched
his blank mien for a few moments. “Are you trying to ignore me?”