Sweet Decadence by Lisa Bingham

Author:Lisa Bingham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1996-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

9

Augusta felt much like a thief as she crept back into the house, hoping, praying, that her absence had not been discovered and no one had seen where she’d gone.

The moment she appeared, Effie rushed to meet her, carrying a lamp high over her head. “Hurry! There’s no time to lose!”

Augusta grew cold. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing. Yet. But the men are beginning to rouse. You’ve got to get up to bed. Quickly!”

Augusta was whipping the Union uniform off, piece by piece, as she ran to the stairs. Shoving the clothes into Effie’s hands she said, “Hide these somewhere safe!”

Tiptoeing down the hall, she padded past the major in his chair. As Effie had said, his sleep was growing restless.

Running into her room, she dropped her shoes at the foot of the bed and dragged a nightgown over her head. Her heart pounding, she slid into bed, pulling the covers up to her ears.

Within minutes, she heard the creak of the major’s chair.

He was awake—or at least aware of his surroundings.

She could only pray that he wouldn’t know he’d been drugged.

His boots thumped.

No. No.

Please, don’t let him come any nearer.

Jackson cupped his head in his hands and groaned softly.

The dreams. The horrible, horrible dreams. He’d been in battle, positioned behind a line of cannon. The noise had grown incredible, the stench overwhelmingly real. Through it all, he’d urged his men to fire faster and faster. Then a wall of fire had leapt in front of him and he’d been thrown to his back.

Jackson shook his head to clear it of the images, then regretted the hasty action when it made his skull throb.

Rising, he ground the heels of his hands against his eyelids, damning the sluggishness of his brain and the way his limbs seemed unwilling to follow the commands he gave them.

Taking a pocket watch from his vest, he popped open the lid, then stared at it in surprise. How on earth had he managed to sleep for eighty minutes?

He squinted at the clock on Augusta’s dresser, just to make sure, but the timepieces gave the same information, give or take a minute. He hadn’t slept that soundly in years, let alone while he was on guard duty. In fact, he couldn’t remember resting so completely since his leg had been injured and they’d dosed him with laudanum.

Laudanum.

That taste.

It lingered in his mouth.

Laudanum.

Damnit, what in hell had Augusta done to him? But moreover, what had she done while he was all but unconscious?

He walked into her bedroom, searching for anything out of place, and saw nothing. She lay huddled on her bed, the covers drawn up to her chin, her hair drawn back in a little-girl braid and fastened with a pink ribbon.

Was she aware how sweet such a pose made her look? How lovely? How innocent?

It was really too bad that he didn’t believe her act. He knew deep in his soul of souls that she’d been up to no good while he’d been drugged into oblivion. How could he

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