Glory Read Free Page B

wasn’t surprised, other than the fact that a general could be spared at this hour to take part in a capture. He had saved General Angus Magee’s foot when the fellow had nearly pushed it to a point when only amputation would have saved his life.
    “General Magee, sir!” he returned pleasantly, still staring at Rhiannon.
    “Julian, step away from Mrs. Tremaine and drop your weapon, sir!”
    He stepped away from her, his eyes pinned upon hers. He smiled slowly, reached for the Colt, tossed it down. His stare didn’t alter or flinch as he heard the men rushing into the room to take him. Yet, as they reached him, they didn’t touch him, they hovered awkwardly around him.
    At last he drew his gaze from her green eyes. “Good evening, gentlemen. No, I’m afraid it’s morning. Where does the time go? It seems to fly when so many are about to die, doesn’t it?”
    One of the men cleared his throat and started toward him. Julian shook his head, smiling. “There’s no need for force or manhandling, my good fellow. Point me where I am to go, and I shall proceed.”
    “Just come along, Julian,” General Magee said. His still striking, if aging, face, lined with pride and character, seemed to sag that night. He stood just in the entry of the small church.
    “Aye, sir, as you wish,” Julian said politely. “Tell me, since we have this happenstance to meet, sir, do you know if my brother is well?”
    “Yes, Julian. Ian is well. But he isn’t a part of this; he knows nothing about it—”
    “No, sir. My brother wouldn’t be a part of such naked treachery.”
    Magee stiffened. “Mrs. Tremaine?” he said softly, ready to defend and protect Rhiannon.
    Julian had reached the general at the door, but he knew she walked behind him. He stepped out to the clearing. Yankee horsemen were aligned thirty feet from him. He turned back. Magee had exited the church, Rhiannon at his side.
    He smiled, addressing them both. “By the way, your pardon, General Magee, but she is Mrs. McKenzie now. I’m afraid you and your men were a little late,” he said, his tone apologetic.
    Magee stared at Rhiannon. “My dear girl, is it true?”
    “No!” she said, her whispered word alarmed.
    “General, I swear to you that it is. Father Vickery will tell you so, before God. The lady is over twenty-one. So am I. The marriage is legal and binding. With witnesses. Ah! And in private, sir!” he said, lowering his voice so that only the general and Rhiannon could hear his words. “As I did the right, proper, and most gentlemanly thing, coming here at the lady’s summons—and since I have become your prisoner—I ask you to do me a service. As an officer, and a gentleman. Rhiannon is in your medical service,” he said softly, “be kind enough to keep an eye on her. She has a tendency to believe herself dreaming of her dear departed Richard—then turning to the nearest living, breathing body—”
    She stepped forward and slapped him. It was a hard, stinging strike. Hard enough to make him feel the blow straight to his jaw.
    He lifted his hand to his face, then bowed deeply to her. He turned around and started for the horse that the Yankees held for his use. He swung atop the animal. It was sleek. In excellent condition. He saw the opportunity he’d been waiting for. A gap in the Yankee line. Lying against the horse’s neck, he moved his heels against its flanks. It leapt to life, bolting straight for the gap.
    “Stop him!” Magee commanded. “What, will we be the laughingstock of the battle, losing a lone surgeon?”
    “Men—” Magee began.
    Two cavalrymen managed to fill the gap. It didn’t matter, Julian needed only spin his mount and ride hard straight back and to the left. But when he swung his mount around and started pell-mell back, she was there, in his path, eyes on his. Tall, straight, as still as a statue, challenging him.
    Not much of a challenge. She knew he would stop.
    He reined in his mount. Instantly, the soldiers