Siege of the Heart (Southern Romance 2)

“It’s okay,” she said finally. “I know what it’s like to need to keep secrets.” She watched him, almost as if she was hoping for something, and he saw a fleeting disappointment when he patted her hand absently.

“You were always the understanding one, Cee.”

She sighed. Seconds ticked by in the rustling of the trees.

“Why do you look at him like that?” Cecelia asked finally, as if she knew Solomon would never tell her what she wanted to know.

“Like what?” Solomon felt his heart leap strangely.

“Your face...comes alive.” Cecelia fumbled for the words. “It’s like when you look at him, you don’t know if you’re happy or sad, but it’s eating you alive inside. Are you...” Her eyes widened, and Solomon tipped his head back against the tree with a sigh. “Solomon.”

“All right, hush.” He rolled his head slightly. Cecelia could only trust Violet more if she knew the truth, he reasoned, and she was hardly likely to share the information with the soldiers here. “Ambrose,” he said, his voice barely a thread of sound, “is a woman. Her name is Violet.”

Cecelia’s eyes went as round as saucers, and she stared at Solomon as if he’d gone mad.

“Really?” she breathed at last, and when Solomon nodded, she looked over intently, to peer at this strange new apparition.

Solomon tried to see it with new eyes. He had spent the days since he learned studying every tiny movement. Violet’s hips swayed just a tiny bit more than a man’s when she rode. The attentiveness in her face was uniquely feminine, and when she forgot herself—as she did, Solomon had noticed, at the sight of blood—her lips parted slightly, and she chewed on the lower one.

“Why didn’t I see it?” Cecelia asked softly. “I should have, shouldn’t I?”

“I didn’t either.”

“You love her.” His sister’s voice was matter of fact.

“I—I do not—what?” Solomon looked over at her in alarm. He lowered his voice to a furious whisper. “I don’t love her.”

“Of course you do. Why else would you look like that?”

“Cecelia...” He groaned, and ran his hands through his hair. This was not the sort of thing he had ever wanted to explain to her. “Cee, a man can...he can...”

“Yes...?”

He looked over, and Cecelia was staring at him, bored, as if she wished he’d get on with it. “Very well. A man can desire a woman, without loving her. I’m sorry to tell you that, but I suppose it’s best you know.”

“Oh, I know.” Her voice was bitterer than he would have expected. Had Cecelia had a beau? He should have been paying closer attention. Then she looked up, brown eyes focusing on his. “But that’s not what this is. You love her.”

“I don’t!”

“Oh, can you possibly—” She broke off and took a deep breath, looking so like their mother for a moment that Solomon bit back a laugh. She was not amused. “You are so dense,” she hissed at him. “You are in love with her. No man stares like that at a woman he just wants. You don’t stare at her...” She blushed. “At her chest, or her waist, or her...”

“Get on with it.”

“You stare at her face, Solomon. You look at her like you want to stare at her forever, like she’s some sort of angel dropped to earth, and you also look like your heart is breaking. I know why, I just...”

Solomon looked away, his heart racing. He loved Violet? No, that was impossible. Of course he had been consumed with the thought of her mouth against his own, or her legs wrapped around his waist. He had wanted to know what would make her arch her back with pleasure and cry his name into the dark beside their campfire. But love? It couldn’t be love. If it were love, would he...

Yes. He would crave every moment of her conversation, as he did. He would be angry when she judged him to be a man without honor, as she once had. He would tell awful jokes, as he had all along their ride, to see if he could make her smile. And, he would dream, as he did in the mornings, of waking up to find her head laying on his chest and her hair spread across his pillow. He would notice, as others might not, that it was not just a pale brown, but that it had strands of gold and red and pale...

He was in love with her.

As Violet sat back and nodded to Jasper, Solomon pushed himself up off the ground and tried to think what to do. His heart was pounding. His palms were sweaty, and he could feel his hands shaking.

“Solomon?” Cecelia asked him.

“I love her,” he said simply. “I can’t let them take her south, Cee. I have to save her.”

“But—”