Northern Temptress

Inc.

Northern Temptress

by

Nicole McCaffrey

American Heroes Series

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Northern Temptress

COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Nicole McCaffrey

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First American Rose Edition, 2014

Print ISBN 978-1-62830-047-5

Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-048-2

American Heroes Series

Published in the United States of America

Praise for Nicole McCaffrey:

"THE MODEL MAN…funny, compassionate, heart wrenching, and down right sexy."

~Simply Romance Reviews

"THE MODEL MAN is one of the most entertaining books I’ve read in a long time. I loved every minute of it and will definitely read this one again!"

~Long and Short Reviews

"SMALL TOWN CHRISTMAS by Nicole McCaffrey is a wonderful holiday story of love, forgiveness and the importance of family."

~Night Owl Romance

"SMALL TOWN CHRISTMAS is syrupy sweet and classically romantic. Holly and Tucker’s romantic movie ending is heartwarming and fun."

~Joyfully Reviewed

"WILD TEXAS WIND is an excellent story with a spitfire heroine, a great hero and a wonderful, slightly humorous climax. Readers who enjoy a more traditional western with a strong romantic element will enjoy this."

~Romantic Times

"WILD TEXAS WIND is a wonderfully romantic western tale. For anyone who appreciates a bad boy cowboy, Raz Colt fits the bill. He’s arrogant, demanding and doesn’t like to explain himself. And Arden O’Hara is a woman with a fiery temper and a sharp tongue...the classic Taming of the Shrew set in the old west. I had a hard time putting this book down."

~Night Owl Books

"THIS MOMENT IN TIME is well-written, with enough suspense, conflict and differing motivations to satisfy the pickiest reader." ~Manic Readers

Dedication

For Wyatt and Colton

May you never lose your love of history, your thirst to know more and the desire to dig deeper and find out why?

Now, put this down because this is as far as you’re allowed to read until you’re older.

Acknowledgments

Debbie Taylor

for making my dream cover a reality

~

Stacy The Flyswatter Holmes

for her support, encouragement and making me

dig deeper to pull more emotion from this story

than I could have on my own…

and for plenty of pest control.

~

The angels of Lindsay Place,

who take such wonderful care of my dad.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart

for patiently answering my medical questions

as I researched this book.

~

And in loving memory of my uncle, Gary Meade, Sr., who never tired of those long-distance debates over North versus South, Lee versus Grant,

the Civil War in general—

and always had a good book to recommend.

You are missed so much.

One

Gettysburg, PA

June 30, 1863

The crunch of wagon wheels on gravel blended with the rapid clip of horse hooves and the shouts of an army on the move.

Whoa, Girl. Caleb McKenna paused astride his mount to take in his surroundings. The lush green farm land promised unspoken riches. Not a wealth of coin or jewels; something far more valuable. The brick-red barns, wheat fields of gold that waved in the slight breeze, and rolling meadows spoke of fertile land. A place where the hungry and weary might find the luxury of food and rest.

Rest, however, would have to wait. The small town, so quiet when he had surveyed it earlier this morning, bustled with panic and chaos. He understood the fear of the townsfolk, had witnessed their terrified and angry stares in other towns. His dust-begrimed men and their filthy horses made for a strange sight. But in recent days there had been no time for a change of clothing or a shave, or time to properly wash the dust from their faces, beards or uniforms.

Simon Edwards, the young corporal who was never far from his side, rode up alongside him. Major, do you think General Lee will give us orders to fight?

Caleb glanced at the boy-faced corporal. I do.

"Here? Edwards emphasized. Such a quiet little place. Kinda seems a shame."

Indeed it does, Caleb said to himself as much as Simon. Word had already reached the Confederate army that General George Meade, now commander of the Union army, was marching northward from Virginia to meet them. A sizable battle was imminent.

If we’re successful here, it would mean a clear march to D.C.

You really think we could take Washington, Major? Edwards gave a low whistle. That would mean negotiations to end the war, wouldn’t it?

The farther into Pennsylvania they rode, the more that very thought taunted him. Precisely.

Sure is a nice thought.

Caleb swallowed his affirmative response. Like most of his men, he was sick of this damned fight. Sick of men reeling and falling; of dodging splinters that flew from wheels or axles where bullets struck; of horses wild with terror from their wounds, shells shrieking overhead, bullets whistling everywhere and the incessant pounding of cannons that he heard even in his sleep. Tired of the whole damned thing. But as an officer, he couldn’t vocalize that thought.

He rode ahead, taking time to reassure the citizens he encountered that none would be harmed or captured. Despite his assurances, he sensed their anxiety. Women stood on their porches, clutching small children to their bosom, watching with a mixture of fear and hatred in their eyes.

Their worried faces brought to mind loved ones left behind in Georgia. Like their sisters in the south, the women of Gettysburg were conspicuously on their own. Not an able adult male anywhere to be seen. The militia his brigade had chased through town earlier today had undoubtedly warned the men to avoid contact with the enemy.

The pounding of hooves came from ahead, and one of his men reined to a halt. There’s trouble up ahead, Major.

Caleb wheeled his horse around. Yankees?

No, sir. Civilians. Well…one.

I thought the men were all in hiding?

It’s not a man, sir.

Kneeing the horse into a gallop, Caleb rode forward. A crowd had gathered on the lawn of a residence up ahead. He recognized the large brick house from his earlier reconnoiter of town as belonging to a local doctor.

Several foot soldiers had paused to rest in the shade of the wide, inviting porch. The yeasty aroma of freshly baked bread wafted to him, bringing a groan from his stomach as it reminded him how long it had been since breakfast.

Take one more step, soldier, and I’ll end your hunger pangs permanently. The cold female voice sent a shock through him. The Confederate army had assured the residents they would not be harmed. Perhaps the tantalizing smell of oven-warm bread had enticed the soldier to ask for a bite to eat. Dismounting, he pushed his way through the crowd toward the house.

Annoyance prickled as he made his way up the front steps to where a butternut-clad foot soldier braced himself against the open front door.

A dark-haired woman stood on the threshold, the barrel of a small gun pressed to the intruder’s forehead.

Caleb hesitated, not wanting to move too quickly and startle the woman into firing, especially once he noticed the death grip the soldier had on her free arm and the way she struggled to keep her footing as he pressed his weight against the door.

No man who would take arms against his own country will set foot in this house, she said loud enough for the others to hear. If I have to shoot one man, or a dozen.

Several snickers came from below.

She’s gonna have to re-load that little gun right quick. A soldier standing near Caleb cast him an amused glance, then paled and quickly saluted. Major McKenna, sir.

With a wave, he scattered the men from the porch. What in the devil is going on?

A wail came from inside the house. For the first time, Caleb noticed a young girl, perhaps fifteen years of age, and an old woman standing inside. Both were wide eyed with fear. The old woman, bent with age, brandished a wooden spoon like a warrior prepared for battle. As though the sight of Caleb spurred her to action, she reached over the dark-haired woman’s shoulder to thunk the soldier’s head.

He let out a howl of pain, but didn’t release the young woman. You’re gonna take y’self and that other pretty gal right on inside and cook us as fine a meal as we’ve ever seen.

I’d be happy to, the dark-haired woman spat. But I’m afraid I haven’t enough hemlock for all of you.

Caleb had seen enough. Private!

The solider turned to look over his shoulder, then abruptly released his hold on the woman. She stumbled backward, nearly toppling the old woman and girl behind her. The little gun exploded with an angry blast, and her entire body lurched with the kick from the weapon. It flew from her hands, landing on the porch and skidding a distance. Amid a shower of whitewash and wood chips, Caleb stopped the gun with the toe of his boot.

The solider quickly saluted. Major McKenna, sir.

Caleb bent to retrieve the weapon from the floor. Explain yourself, Private.

The woman stepped out onto the porch, rubbing her arms as though her muscles ached. "Are you their commanding officer?"

He removed his hat and gave a sweeping bow. Major Caleb McKenna, Army of Northern Virginia. Ma’am, on behalf of General Lee, I offer my sincere apology. You have my word as a gentleman these men will be properly punished for their behavior.

She jabbed a finger in the direction of the private. He tried to force his way into my home.

An empty belly will make a man reckless.

Empty belly? she scoffed. "He saw my cousin in the window; I doubt his belly clouded his judgment."

Caleb had never heard a woman speak so frankly in his life. For the first time since she’d come out onto the porch, he took a good look at her. She wore man’s trousers and a work shirt tucked into them. Dark hair was pulled back in a simple braid, but half had come unbound to trail over one shoulder. Her face and clothes were smudged with flour and dough. Emerald green eyes flashed with enough fire to warn him she wasn’t through arguing.

She tried to shoot me, accused the private.

Caleb turned to the soldier. This woman is defending her home against the enemy.

But she—

"Dismissed, Private."

Gathering what little patience he had left, Caleb pulled in a deep breath and waited until the private left the porch. But he felt the full weight of the woman’s angry stare on him.

"That’s it? You send your men around to tell us we won't be harmed, but then one of them tries to force his way into my home and you do nothing? She shook her head. I should have shot him."

Any solider who disturbs a private home and insults a woman answers to me, whether he’s under my command or not, Caleb replied, attempting to keep his temper in check. "And while he’s not one of my men, I assure you, he will be punished."

Nonetheless, I feel the need to protect my family. She held out a palm. My gun, please?

He supposed it was pointless to tell her the tiny gun was useless except at very close range.

A rustling of the curtains at the window drew his attention...the young girl, saucer-eyed with fear, and the old woman, spoon at the ready. The girl was quite lovely, with ivory skin and long, honey brown ringlets. No doubt the sharp-tongued hellion before him had correctly guessed the soldier’s intent.

Reminded of his sisters and mother left alone to defend themselves, he pressed the gun into her waiting hand. Your husband should have left you a more suitable weapon.

I have no husband.

He frowned. Is this not the residence of Doctor Winters?

It is. She pocketed the gun. "My father, Doctor Edwin Winters is in Harrisburg helping with the wounded—I assume you know all about that battle. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. I stayed here to tend to our patients locally."

You are…

Doctor Alexandra Winters.

Caleb took a moment to digest the information. A female physician? He’d heard of such a thing, but never actually encountered one.

Has the cat got your tongue, Major?

He recognized the challenge in her tone. No doubt she met with quite a bit of opposition in her position, but he’d be damned if he’d let her draw him into an argument. "Quite the contrary, Miss—Doctor—Winters. I was thinking how absurd it is that a physician who has taken an oath to heal would sooner put a gun to a man’s head than food in his belly."

It was more than food he wanted, and we both know it.

I intend to learn exactly what his intentions were. With that, he placed his hat on his head and turned to leave. But then another thought struck him. Pausing on the porch steps, he faced her once more. Should the battle that looks to be taking shape actually materialize, there will be many injured men in need of care. Tell me, Doctor Winters, will you check the color of a soldier’s uniform before treating his wounds?

He was rewarded by a slight tightening of her jaw.

I treat anyone who needs care. Regardless of the color of their uniform. She folded her arms and met him with a challenging stare. Or their skin.

Caleb held back a sigh of resignation. He had neither the time nor the desire to engage in a debate over slavery. I see. Good day to you then.

She glanced behind her, where the two women stood watch in the window, then hurried toward the steps. What exactly do you mean by a battle ‘taking shape?’

Well aware of the men lounging in her front yard and the number who had stopped to stare at the spectacle of a woman dressed in man’s trousers demanding answers from him, Caleb tensed. It may be only a day, or less time than that. But your General Meade is marching north to meet us as we speak. A battle is imminent, Doctor Winters. A sizable one at that.

Another flutter of the curtains pulled his attention to the old woman and girl. He had a sister about her age and another two years older. If any man laid a hand on them… His stomach twisted at the thought.

Corporal Edwards! he barked.

The young man appeared as if out of nowhere. Sir?

See that a red flag is hung from this residence to indicate the presence of a doctor. And find two men to stand sentinel at the Winters’ residence. I don’t want anymore incidents at this home.

After scattering the remaining men from the lawn, he mounted his horse, wondering at the sudden pang of longing he felt for his family, the nagging worry for their safety and well-being.

Major McKenna?

That feminine voice with the Northern lilt was familiar now. He forced himself to draw a calming breath before turning toward the porch. Yes, Doctor Winters?

I’d prefer not to have Rebel soldiers posted outside my home, thank you just the same.

You don’t have a choice, he said, not even trying to hide the frustration he felt. The Confederate army is in command of this town, and those are my orders. He tipped his hat in her direction. Besides, I have the odd feeling it’s my men who will need protection. From you.

Without awaiting her reply, he kneed Girl into a gallop and was off.

****

The next morning, Alexa rose before the sun. Father had yet to come home, and with the Confederate officer’s warning of a looming battle, sleep eluded her. It didn’t help that her cousin, Felicity, was visiting and sharing her bed. Sleep was hard enough to come by in this heat without a warm body crowding the space beside her.

Now, with the kitchen windows and door open to catch the cooler morning air, Alexa busied herself baking bread, as she had yesterday. If the battle came, there would be wounded men to care for. And wounded men would need to eat. Baking kept both her mind and her hands busy in the meantime.

With one loaf ready to bake and another batch of dough set out to rise, she turned to open the oven when a resounding boom shook the entire house. She gripped the edge of the table for support as the ground beneath her feet trembled.

Cannons! Oh dear God, it’s happening.

Footsteps raced across the upstairs hallway and down the stairs. Wide eyed and breathless, her young cousin appeared in the kitchen. It’s the Rebs, she whispered. What shall we do?

Alexa searched her mind for words to reassure her. Poor Felicity had come from war-torn Maryland to spend the summer in Pennsylvania, after her father had been killed at Antietam last September. There likely wasn’t a thing she could say to calm the girl.

This is the battle that Rebel officer warned you about, isn’t it? Felicity asked in a rush.

Another boom rattled the windows and the floor beneath their feet. The fighting is probably miles off. We’ll be fine.

Grammy Winters shuffled into the room. To the cellar girls. Now!

Felicity scampered for the door. Her grandmother moved slower, but was right behind her. At the kitchen door, the old woman turned. Child, there’s no time to waste.

I’ll be along. Alexa mentally calculated the things she would need to gather. Sheets to tear into bandages, a basin for fresh water, her medical bag...

Alexandra, Grammy’s worried voice broke into her thoughts. I’ve already lost one son to this war, God alone knows where your father and my grandson are at this moment. I won’t stand by and—

As soon as I get this bread from the oven, I’ll be along.

You’re not too big for me to take a wooden spoon to your backside.

Alexa fought the beginnings of a smile. Her grandmother had been threatening with that spoon for as long as she could remember, but until yesterday, she’d never actually used it on anyone. You go and take care of Felicity. She must be scared out of her wits.

And you’re not? Grammy shuffled off as quickly as she could.

Not at all. Worried, yes, but how big could the battle be? Another boom shook the house, and Alexa watched at the window as her grandmother and cousin tugged the doors to the fruit cellar open and disappeared inside. The minute the doors closed, she headed for the front porch. She had to know what was happening out there.

She searched for the guards the Confederate major had posted at her home yesterday, but they weren’t in sight. Alexa nearly sagged with relief. They were nice young men, but as no one had bothered them again, their presence was unnecessary. Grammy had insisted on taking food to them at suppertime, and they had seemed grateful enough, wolfing down the simple meal of stew and biscuits as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks. But just the same, Alexa was glad they were gone. She didn’t need a battle on her doorstep. And even though most of the town had evacuated at the first signs of the Rebel army, she didn’t want those who remained to see Rebs guarding her home.

Enough scandal was already attached to her name without giving the town gossips more fodder for their stories.

As she stood there, a troop of Union soldiers rode past. One of the men broke from the group and wheeled his horse around.

Alexa!

She recognized the voice and raced down the porch steps to greet her brother’s oldest friend. He jumped from his horse and enclosed her in a warm hug, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around.

I’d heard you were home again. I was hoping to see you while I was here, but under better circumstances, he said, setting her back on her feet.

Quentin Lord had been close friends with her brother since their days at West Point. Alexa always thought him quite handsome, but a tad too aware of his own good looks. Still, he had visited the Winters’ home so many times over the years he was practically kin. Are you well, Quentin?

Fine. A few scratches here and there, that’s all. He glanced up to see his unit moving on without him. I really must ask that you take shelter. You’d be much safer inside.

I’m going to the cellar soon, I promise. Is it over? Have you beaten back the Rebs?

Naw, but the infantry’s here now, we’re just riding in. We’ll lick those Johnnies in no time. He glanced over his shoulder to where the long line of soldiers continued to move on. You be sure to get inside, now. Your brother would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you.

She placed a hand on his arm. It’s been a year since we’ve heard from Nate. I don’t suppose you’ve—

I’m sorry, Alexa. I haven’t seen him.

Her heart fell. I thought perhaps—

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. I get letters from home that are months old.

You’re right, of course. I’m worrying needlessly.

While I’m here, I’ll do my best to come by for a visit.

We’d like that. Take care of yourself, Quentin.

He smiled at her, his dark eyes twinkling. She recognized the look, had seen him use it on nearly every female he encountered. She’d have to remember to keep Felicity away from him. How about a kiss for a solider riding into battle?

She leaned in toward his cheek. You haven’t changed a—

He turned his head and the