Siege of the Heart (Southern Romance 2)

turned, one eyebrow raised. Her expression said clearly that she had expected better from him. Solomon nodded glumly, and tried to compose himself.

“You’re a woman?” No, that wasn’t any better.

“Yes,” Violet said patiently, as if instructing the very stupid.

“Does anyone else know?”

She hesitated, and he could see the idea of lying cross her mind—making light of the secret, or claiming the complicity of her superiors. Then her shoulders slumped. “No,” she said quietly.

“Was Ambrose your older brother?”

“No.” Her chin lifted at that, and tears trembled in her eyes. “His name was Thomas. I could never take his name. He was...” She looked away and swallowed hard, then continued at her work. “We should move out,” she said over her shoulder. “They’ll be waiting for us now. It will be more difficult, but if they’re desperate, they may make a mistake.”

“We can’t just...” Solomon stared at her, at a loss.

“What can’t we do, and why not?” Her voice was a warning, but he would not hear it.

“I can’t let you walk into another battle.”

“Now that you know I’m a woman, you mean.” Her voice was flat. Disappointment, weariness, anger—all were fleeting, if they had been there at all.

“Well, yes.” Solomon began to pick his way towards her, and she moved to tighten her horse’s saddle, putting the beast between them as a shield.

“I promised to help you, and I knew I was a woman the whole time.”

“I didn’t! I would never have allowed it otherwise.”

“Allowed it?” Her voice rose now. “The war touches me just as much as it touches you, Solomon Dalton. I watched men die on the battlefield. I lost family. That is the fate of men and women everywhere. So who are you to tell us that we may not join the cause, when it touches our lives so deeply?”

He had no answer to that.

“I thought so.” She snorted softly. “Mr. Dalton, you saw me fight. You know I can. My life is mine to gamble how I choose.” She mounted up. “Are you coming with me to save your sister?”

Solomon swung into the saddle himself, still too stunned to speak. How in the hell had he not realized the truth before? The features that he had mistaken for weakness were stunningly beautiful. Oh, she was no finely-dressed girl from about town, corseted and...

Everything fell into place.

“That’s how I didn’t noticed you!” He reined in his horse. “In the town. You were dressed as a woman.”

“Could you stop saying ‘a woman’ with that tone of betrayal?” Her voice was sharp. She looked over her shoulder at him and reluctantly wheeled around to face him when he did not move.

“Why should I not feel betrayed?” he asked her finally.

“Why should you?” she shot back. Her brow was furrowed. “What, of all the things we have done, depends upon my sex? Do you think that some sort of feminine magic tracked down your lies? No! I observed, I followed you, I paid attention, the same as any spy.”

“You were in disguise.” Wait, no, the pants were the disguise. He could not tell down from up anymore, it seemed.

“Every spy is always in disguise, and what you so readily overlooked might have been spotted by someone else. Old ladies are particularly...observant.” Her face grew cold.

“Someone found you out once,” he guessed.

A sullen shrug was the only answer, but when he gave a crow of laughter, he saw a smile tug at her lips. She gave a sigh.

“Mr. Dalton, I assure you that I am just as capable of a mad rescue mission as any man.”

“Well enough,” Solomon said after a moment. His mind did not sit quietly with it, but the same mind pointed out that his companion had, in fact, proven herself. “But I have a good deal of questions.”

“So do I,” she said softly, smiling over at him. Her look was so open, that the next words hit him like a punch to the gut: “Such as, for instance, why those soldiers called you Horace and why they seemed to recognize you.”