Siege of the Heart (Southern Romance 2)

“What would you do if you did not have me to worry about, and you knew that two citizens loyal to the Union had been abducted?”

“I would do my best to save them.”

“You swear it?” Solomon asked.

“Of course. Do you think me heartless?”

“At the moment, you’ll forgive me if I do.”

“A fair assessment, I guess.” Ambrose looked at Solomon, and his eyes fell. “Mr. Dalton, you think me a monster. I can see that. No, do not bother arguing. I know the look in a man’s eyes. So let me tell you what I have seen, because I know you, who have fought in battles, might understand.”

Solomon stayed quiet. Suddenly, he was afraid. He did not want to know what this man would say.

“While my brother marched to war,” Ambrose said quietly, “his regiment was ambushed, and every man slaughtered. They hardly had time to draw their weapons. In the Confederacy, they would say that such means were necessary, for we were better armed and with more men, but I do not care what the Confederacy says. I care that my brother died because one of the men in his regiment gave them all up. He turned traitor and ran, and my brother paid the price. Do you have an older brother, Solomon?”

“I’m the eldest,” Solomon said softly.

“Well then, your father. Think of your father. My brother was the strongest, bravest man I knew. He deserved a better death than that, and he is not the only one, Mr. Dalton. There are thousands who died when men betrayed the Union. Do you know how many families have suffered for it?”

“More than even you know,” Solomon said bluntly.

“Yes. More than we will ever know. So perhaps you can understand when I say I cannot let you go.”

“Then tell me what to say,” Solomon told him. “I’ll say it, and you’ll be free to shoot me, and you can go free my sister. I do not think you a monster, Mr. Ambrose but there is no fate you can give me worse than knowing I failed in this.”

“I’ll not put words in your mouth.” The man sounded deeply offended. “I want the truth.”

It was on Solomon’s lips, and then he felt, to his shame, his resolve crumbling. If my life is the price... He had sworn to Clara that he would do anything it took, and now he found that he feared saying the words. He feared dying in the next moments, without ever knowing that Cecelia had been found.

He told himself that he could not rest in his grave until he knew for sure, and even if those words rang hollow, he knew, also, that he had a bargaining chip now. The truth, Ambrose said. And for a price, Solomon would give it to him.

“The truth, you shall have if we go back and I stand trial.”

“Which of course, you refuse to do.”

“I am fully willing to do so...as long as we rescue Cecelia and Jasper first.”

“Solomon Dalton, you are an infuriating man.” The agent sta

red him down.

“I’m aware of that.” Solomon watched the agent’s eyes slide away. “What is it?”

The gun came back out, but this time it shook slightly as Ambrose pointed it at Solomon. “Could I have been wrong?” the agent asked him harshly. “I tracked you for weeks. Is it truly possible that I was wrong? ...Or are you a more consummate liar than any man I’ve come across before?”

“The only two options are that I’m innocent, or the devil?”

The gun came down, and Ambrose closed his eyes briefly. He was, Solomon thought, one of the most beautiful men he’d ever seen. Long-lashed, almost delicate. It was a wonder the man could hold a weapon—and even more of wonder that he’d taken such a dangerous job. But, then he would hardly have been suited to hauling cannons.

Ambrose was a puzzle, indeed.

“Very well,” the agent said at last. “They will have my head on a stake for this if you run, though I doubt you care about that.”

“I’ll not run. I gave my word.”

“A great many men give their word to a great many causes. I have ceased to trust that.”

“Then why are you coming with me?” Solomon snapped.