humiliation.
“Bastard!” she cried, and she slapped him with all her strength. He didn’t flinch. He inclined his head toward her, blue eyes crystal in ice-hard anger. Yet despite the cold eyes, it seemed that fire radiated all around him, that sparks all but leapt from his muscled form, catching her in their burn. She stepped back despite her determination to stand her ground.
“This time, Miss Magee, I’ll let that pass.”
“This time! You’ve abducted me, you—Rebel!” shecried, close to tears and suddenly unnerved in a way she didn’t quite understand.
“This
time! How dare you! How dare you do this to me! I swear, I’ll see you rot in old Capitol, I’ll see you hanged, I’ll—”
“One more attempt to elude my Southern hospitality, Miss Magee, and so help me God, I will retaliate! Are we understood?”
She felt like a schoolchild being chastised for some silly prank. He was keeping her prisoner!
Still, she kept her distance.
“Are we understood? I don’t know—are we? Given a chance,
any chance
, McKenzie, I’ll shoot out your kneecaps before I aim for your heart.
Are we
understood?” she demanded.
She heard his teeth grating. He inclined his head politely, but then his eyes touched hers again with their blue ice. “Perfectly,” he told her politely. He turned on his heel, and left the room.
She stared at the closed door for a moment, then realized she was shaking badly. She moved quickly to the edge of the bed and sat, her heart pounding a million miles an hour. She had won. At last she had won a battle.
Yet, even as she congratulated herself on her victory, the door was suddenly thrown open.
He was back, a towering silhouette, caught for just the fraction of a second in the doorway.
Then he strode toward her with purpose and determination. She leapt up in alarm. “No—don’t come near me, don’t—what—”
Her words were worthless. He was instantly, angrily, before her, reaching for her wrist. Even as she struggled and stuttered out further angry protests, she felt something cold against her arm—and then heard a snapping sound.
She stared down in dismay to see that he’d come with handcuffs—and he’d just locked her left wrist into one side of the steel cuffs. She quickly shoved her free hand behind her back, thinking he intended to cuff her wrists together.
“Don’t! No, don’t—” she began, but broke off in purehorror as she realized that he did not intend to cuff both her wrists together at all.
He intended far worse.
As she stared at him in deepest dismay, he closed the second vise around his own wrist.
And she was cuffed to him.
Chapter 6
H aving been summoned back to Washington to be reassigned to the Army of the Potomac, Lieutenant General Angus Magee reached his home dirty, tired, and heavyhearted.
The Rebs had made it damned hard. A man called Stonewall Jackson was in the Shenandoah Valley, creating so much havoc that Lincoln dared not leave Washington undefended. McDowell’s troops were on hold to watch over D.C. McClellan, meanwhile, was demanding more troops as he struggled to find a way to attack the Southern troops around Richmond. Angus was to bring troops down to fight under McClellan—a fraction of the number McClellan wanted—demanded!—but if Washington was lost, all was lost.
Not that it mattered where he was assigned these days. Every battle he fought seemed to pit him against an old friend. Someone with whom he had fought in Mexico, or a young man he had taught as a guest lecturer at West Point. After every battle and skirmish, his aides arrived, saluted, and gave him lists of the dead, lists from the North and the South, lists that carried the names of those near and dear to him, no matter on which side of the divide they had fallen.
Coming home was going to be good. Hopefully, his wayward daughter had grown tired of seeing to the injuries and diseases of the troops occupying St. Augustine and had come home. After all, he’d
“Bastard!” she cried, and she slapped him with all her strength. He didn’t flinch. He inclined his head toward her, blue eyes crystal in ice-hard anger. Yet despite the cold eyes, it seemed that fire radiated all around him, that sparks all but leapt from his muscled form, catching her in their burn. She stepped back despite her determination to stand her ground.
“This time, Miss Magee, I’ll let that pass.”
“This time! You’ve abducted me, you—Rebel!” shecried, close to tears and suddenly unnerved in a way she didn’t quite understand.
“This
time! How dare you! How dare you do this to me! I swear, I’ll see you rot in old Capitol, I’ll see you hanged, I’ll—”
“One more attempt to elude my Southern hospitality, Miss Magee, and so help me God, I will retaliate! Are we understood?”
She felt like a schoolchild being chastised for some silly prank. He was keeping her prisoner!
Still, she kept her distance.
“Are we understood? I don’t know—are we? Given a chance,
any chance
, McKenzie, I’ll shoot out your kneecaps before I aim for your heart.
Are we
understood?” she demanded.
She heard his teeth grating. He inclined his head politely, but then his eyes touched hers again with their blue ice. “Perfectly,” he told her politely. He turned on his heel, and left the room.
She stared at the closed door for a moment, then realized she was shaking badly. She moved quickly to the edge of the bed and sat, her heart pounding a million miles an hour. She had won. At last she had won a battle.
Yet, even as she congratulated herself on her victory, the door was suddenly thrown open.
He was back, a towering silhouette, caught for just the fraction of a second in the doorway.
Then he strode toward her with purpose and determination. She leapt up in alarm. “No—don’t come near me, don’t—what—”
Her words were worthless. He was instantly, angrily, before her, reaching for her wrist. Even as she struggled and stuttered out further angry protests, she felt something cold against her arm—and then heard a snapping sound.
She stared down in dismay to see that he’d come with handcuffs—and he’d just locked her left wrist into one side of the steel cuffs. She quickly shoved her free hand behind her back, thinking he intended to cuff her wrists together.
“Don’t! No, don’t—” she began, but broke off in purehorror as she realized that he did not intend to cuff both her wrists together at all.
He intended far worse.
As she stared at him in deepest dismay, he closed the second vise around his own wrist.
And she was cuffed to him.
Chapter 6
H aving been summoned back to Washington to be reassigned to the Army of the Potomac, Lieutenant General Angus Magee reached his home dirty, tired, and heavyhearted.
The Rebs had made it damned hard. A man called Stonewall Jackson was in the Shenandoah Valley, creating so much havoc that Lincoln dared not leave Washington undefended. McDowell’s troops were on hold to watch over D.C. McClellan, meanwhile, was demanding more troops as he struggled to find a way to attack the Southern troops around Richmond. Angus was to bring troops down to fight under McClellan—a fraction of the number McClellan wanted—demanded!—but if Washington was lost, all was lost.
Not that it mattered where he was assigned these days. Every battle he fought seemed to pit him against an old friend. Someone with whom he had fought in Mexico, or a young man he had taught as a guest lecturer at West Point. After every battle and skirmish, his aides arrived, saluted, and gave him lists of the dead, lists from the North and the South, lists that carried the names of those near and dear to him, no matter on which side of the divide they had fallen.
Coming home was going to be good. Hopefully, his wayward daughter had grown tired of seeing to the injuries and diseases of the troops occupying St. Augustine and had come home. After all, he’d
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