No Other Man by Shannon Drake Page B

from hers. Richard was staring up at her, eyes
wide open but unseeing. And she realized that he was dead, and she started to
scream.
    She was found by a Union soldier on patrol, who took her to
an army office, where men plied her with questions despite the fact that her
heart was broken and she felt as if she had shed her life's blood upon that
dock as well. They kept demanding to know what had happened. Be a good soldier, he had told her. She'd never
betray him, never... .
    They kept her all night. In the morning, her mother arrived,
ashen gray with her grief, yet demanding her eleven- year-old daughter's
immediate return. There was no proof that Richard Connor had ever been a
Southern spy, and Jill Connor created such an uproar that the officers were
forced to let Skylar go without finding out what had really happened.
    That night, when her father's body had been set out in the
parlor for the wake, Skylar listened dully to the conversations in the
kitchen. Brad Dillman trembling, his voice broken as he told her mother how the
filthy Rebs had repaid Richard's kindness with bloody murder. She had listened
to her mother sob.
    A heavy mist lay close to the ground again. Deep, dense fog,
rising, flowing. She needed to be back outside again, away. So she ran through
it. Ran and ran. And finally, when she could run no more, she ran toward home
again. But she didn't want to see any more people; she still wanted to be
alone.
    It was by pure accident that she ran from the mist and into
the stables to discover Brad Dillman, tall, handsome, with the well-built shoulders
her mother had so recently cried upon, secretively wiping blood from a
twelve-inch cavalry knife he had drawn from a sheath at his ankle.
    Dunhill looked up from the bloody knife and saw her.
"Skylar. Sweet, sweet little Skylar..."
    He reached for her...
    # * *
    When fingers touched her cheek, Skylar shrieked, bolting up
in the bed, fighting instinctively.
    The
lodge was cast in shadow; the fire had burned down to embers. She could
scarcely see in the gloom of the cabin, but she was aware of the imposing
figure first standing over her, then straddling her as he captured her arms and
pinned them down, staring down at her.
    "Is
it just me? Or do you scream and attempt to pummel everyone who comes near you, Lady Douglas?'
    It was him. The Indian was back. Atop her again. Mocking
her again.
    Perhaps even more bitterly now ...
    "You startled me," she said.
    "Oh,
not quite as much as you've startled me!" he murmured.
    "You're—crushing me."
    "Am I?"
    "Please..
    He
released her and rose. He turned away from her, a large dark shadow moving in
the hazy light of the lodge. It was morning, Skylar thought. Or else it was
early evening once again. She had slept long and deeply, and still she was
tired.
    He
stoked the fire with a poker and added a log. Sparks flew; the fire once again
began to blaze.
    He
didn't bother with the leftover coffee. He took the whiskey bottle from the
shelf and leaned an arm upon the mantle, staring at her for a moment, then
gulping down large swallows of amber liquid from the bottle, then staring at
her again.
    "You
are my wife\" he grated out,
emphasizing the last word as if it were a loathsome thing.
    Skylar
sat up, trying to smooth down her hair, trying to hold her robe together with
dignity.
    "I'm—sorry,"
she murmured coolly. She lowered her eyes, realizing the truth of her
predicament. Yet, surely, there was some way out of it.
    Except, she realized suddenly, if
there were, she couldn't take it! She didn 't dare accept any way out —and
back east. No matter what, she had to stay here in the Dakota territory. She
had to remain Lady Douglas. For the time being, at least.
    He sauntered toward her, the whiskey bottle still in his
hand. He paused before the bed, then hunkered down before her, his green eyes
riveted on hers.
    Apparently, he was having different thoughts.
    "Something could be done about this. If you were to ask
for an annulment, I could