Branded Hearts. Diana Hall
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Название: Branded Hearts
Автор: Diana Hall
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
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The steady beat of his feet reassured Kit. Each step told her of his presence, but she didn’t have to deal with the strange conflicting emotions his closeness caused. Searching the barn for blankets and flour sacks, she let the task command her thoughts.
“Move aside.” Garret puffed behind Kit. He lugged a hay bale over his head. With controlled strength, he dropped it inside the stall, next to the wall. The mare pranced to the opposite side.
“Let me help.” Kit turned to grab a bale.
A callused palm checked her motion. Garret’s thumb massaged her arm, and heat radiated through the thin cloth of her shirt. “Those bales are too heavy for you to lift.” The hard line of his jaw softened, and his eyes melted into a gentle moss-green.
Confusion with her own smoldering emotions made her blurt out, “You didn’t seem to think so yesterday.”
“I said lift, not shove.” Garret tossed the gentle reprimand aside as he released her. Her arm felt cold, as though she needed the warmth of his touch. He returned to the pile of bales at the foot of the ladder.
Kit had to compose herself. Garret Blaine had actually been considerate. He had teased her. She glanced toward him, his back straining to lift the heavy bale. Lantern light turned his hair golden, and without his Stetson, a cowlick sprang free. For once he didn’t look dry, hard and unforgiving. His broad shoulders seemed ready to support her, his strong arms ready to protect her.
Three more bales and he effectively boxed the mare into the center of the stall. When he had finished, he paused, standing so close she could study the swirls of his ear, the way the hair around his neck curled, and see the rays of the starburst scar on his temple. His shirt smelled of crushed hay and a musky masculine scent from his labors.
Kit tore her gaze away from him and concentrated on the mare. “I don’t know what else we can do.” She used that word, too. We. And she was without fear. Instead, she felt an anticipation that offered both promise and danger.
Kit and Garret spoke to the horse, their voices intertwining, alternating from one to the other. Their comforting tones and gentle pats soothed the animal. Only when her sides quivered, the signal of a labor pain, did the mare toss off their hands and roll her eyes.
“This could go on for hours.” Garret leaned on the gate, his shoulder brushing hers. “Why don’t you turn in?” Chili whined as he looked eagerly at the dark tack room.
Shaking her head, Kit combed her fingers through her hair. “No. I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.” The dog slumped to the floor, clearly disappointed.
An awkward silence dominated the barn. Garret rubbed his temple, his fingers tracing the rays of his scar.
“You get that in the war?” Kit’s gaze centered on his temple.
Self-conscious, Garret withdrew his hand. “In a manner of speaking.”
One dark brow arched. Her exquisite mouth crooked to the side. “What does that mean?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clasped his hands together and stared at the spot where his thumbs interlaced. “I was in Andersonville for two years.”
“I’ve heard stories about the place—”
“None of them could be as bad as the truth.” He unclasped his hands and stepped away from the stall, turning his back on her. “Twenty thousand men stuffed into a prison built to hold a few thousand. Disease, starvation, abuse were everywhere.”
“Did one of the guards do that?” The concern in her voice made him face her. Garret found himself hypnotized by the play of lantern light across the planes of her face and the shimmer in her hair.
“No.” He fought to find his voice. “A Union officer. He threw a rock, hit me in the head.”
Long, slender fingers lay over his hand, then withdrew, trembling. Kit bit her lower lip. “It must have been horrible.”
He stood with her in the glow of the lanterns, surrounded by darkness, and felt they were the only two people on Earth. Nervousness made him try to make light of his situation. “I came in with about twenty other Blues. Nineteen years old, brash, tough and cocksure.”
“Sort of like Cade.”
“Worse than Cade.” He smiled at her exaggerated shocked expression. Then the smile faded as he remembered the rest. “That lasted all of ten minutes. That’s when the rocks started flying. The prisoners were trying to stone us. Kill us for our boots, uniforms and share of food. I saw a captain aim for me and then everything went black.”
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