Closing her eyes, she shivered with apprehension. When a hand fastened on her arm, she gasped, eyes jerking open. Jesse put a hand over her mouth.
"Hush. A Yankee patrol," he said with his lips against her ear. "Stay still and keep your mule quiet."
Nodding wordlessly, Amanda tried to still her wildly thumping heart. This was insane. What was she doing out here? Would she end up dead long before she'd ever been born? Did it work that way?
As the patrol drew close, Jesse seemed to sense her growing panic. He took her hand, giving it a slight squeeze. She held tightly, as if he were the only link to safety and sanity. Leaves crunched underfoot, and occasionally a small twig or fallen branch would snap as the patrol passed by close enough for her to see individual features on the men. Though garbed in blue uniforms and carrying weapons, the majority looked to her like boys instead of the hardened soldiers she'd always envisioned.
Recent rains had soaked the earth, and in the deep woods the sun had not yet dried the roads, leaving them quagmires that sucked at wagon wheels, men, and beasts. It seemed to take forever for the patrol to pass by, and Amanda fretted that at any moment, they would be discovered.
When at last the Yankees had gone and only the echoes of tramping feet and rattling wagons could be heard in the distance, she breathed easier. "I thought one of them looked directly at me once," she murmured. "I just knew we were goners."
Realizing mat Jesse was still holding her hand, she turned to look at him. He regarded her with a strange intensity as he released her hand.
"You could have called out, you know," he said softly.
"Why would I do that?"
He shrugged and said, "The Yankees would love to get their hands on me. They've been chasing me for two years now, ever since Memphis fell. There's a price on my head."
"I told you-I'm not a Northern spy. I have no intention of betraying you."
Jesse studied her for another moment, then looked away and said, “Not even if I tell you that the Federals call me the Hawk?"
"Really. Then I'm in famous company, I see. Should I be impressed?"
A faint smile tucked in one corner of his mouth, and the suggestion of a dimple creased his cheek. "You should be. Are you?"
"Very. I can truly say I've never before met one of Forrest's raiders."
"Rangers," he corrected with a grin. "And I hate to disappoint you, but I'm a free agent for the South. I work for whoever needs me most. Of course, since I'm pretty familiar with Memphis and northern Mississippi, I'm most effective here. When Forrest conducts his campaigns in Georgia and Alabama, I give whatever services I can to the next Confederate commander in this area."
"Ah. A man of versatility, then."
His eyes narrowed slightly, and she could feel a subtle change in the way he turned to look at her. “I can be very versatile," he murmured.
Amanda caught her breath. The rush of fear she'd felt when danger was near didn't compare with the sparks that vibrated between them now. She didn't quite understand it, but there was electricity in the air, almost as if a bolt of summer lightning had struck nearby. Never before had she felt this way, not even with her late husband. There had been none of the tension, the feeling as if she were a delicate instrument strung too tightly-the feeling that if she didn't somehow gain release, she would explode.
"Jesse," she said tentatively, her voice a whisper, "I can't explain what's happening to me anymore. Everything is so-so strange."
Filtered sunlight flickered through tree limbs to cast shadows on his face as he studied her for a long moment. "Strange?" he repeated. "Or just different?"
"Different, I suppose. No-strange as well. Oh, not just you. It's more than that."
"I don't suppose you could explain that a little bit better," he muttered, but the cynicism she'd half expected was absent from his tone.
"I wish I could. If I told you what has really happened to me, you'd be shocked. You wouldn't believe it. I'm not sure I do."
Reaching out, he curled his hand beneath her chin and lifted her face so that he could look into her eyes. "There are times things happen to people through no fault of their own. I would never condemn someone for what they did not do of their own free will."
Realizing that he thought she meant something else, Amanda opened her mouth to explain, but Jesse leaned forward and kissed her. Her instant reaction to the kiss took her so by surprise, she could not think. His lips were warm and firm on hers, and she couldn't help the surge of response that made her lift her arms and put them around his neck.
Before she quite knew what was happening, she found herself clinging to him in a passionate embrace that left her breathless and aching. Jesse kissed her mouth, then the line of her jaw up to her ear, bunching her hair in his fist to hold it, his breath heated against her skin. Amanda shivered and clung to him as if drowning.
It was like drowning. The tides of overwhelming reaction left her floundering, and she was helpless to do more than curve her hands over his shoulders and hold on when he trailed kisses down the arch of her throat. He was holding her up with one arm behind her back while his other hand tunneled into her hair to hold her head. The neat coils of hair she'd put atop her head that morning loosened, tumbling around her shoulders in a disorderly mass.
"This is crazy," he muttered, lips moving against the pulse at the base of her throat. His arm tightened behind her, pulling her hard against him. "We're likely to be shot if we don't pay better attention to what's going on around us."
Through a foggy haze, Amanda heard herself say, "Yes. You're right."
But neither of them relinquished the other. Her fingers were tangled in the material of his shirt, caressing his muscled back. Heat and humidity only added to the inferno that raged inside her, and she wondered vaguely if she'd truly lost her mind. This was even more unbelievable than finding herself in another century.
When Jesse finally pulled away, his chest was rising and falling rapidly and there was a pinched look on his face. "It will be dark soon," he said thickly. "I know a place where we can camp for the night."
It was crazy and she knew it, but her entire world had careened out of control. Amanda shivered. Sexual tension only added to the physical strain of hours of unaccustomed riding. It felt as if every muscle in her body were protesting, and all her internal organs were in revolt. She briefly closed her eyes.
"Are you all right?"
Amanda glanced up to find Jesse's night-blue eyes resting on her. She managed a smile. "I'm fine. I can keep up."
"I've no doubt of that," he replied in a murmur. "You seem to be full of surprises."
"I'm not nearly as fragile as you may think. I take all the proper vitamins, read all the right magazines-never mind. I'm fine."
Giving her a half smile, Jesse turned his attention to the narrow road a short distance ahead. He seemed to be waiting for something or someone, standing still and silent in the shadow of a huge elm. Finally he motioned for her to remount and follow him. Wagon ruts were the only indication that it was some sort of road, and Amanda could barely see them in places. Apparently, Jesse knew exactly where he was and where he was going. She only wished she did.
Night was closing in around them, and Amanda had no idea how far they had gone. Jesse seemed to be taking a circuitous route, weaving in and out of thickets, back onto the road, and then into the woods again. None of which added up to a feeling of security. Or did it? Odd, but she felt safe with him despite the gravity of their mission. Even when she'd seen the Yankees, she'd not felt as threatened as she should have. As a child she'd sensed strength and promise in the handsome man in the photograph. That impression of the man in her dreams was not lessened by the reality of him. Jesse Jordan exuded a strong sensuality and strength of will that could never have been totally captured by mere photographic equipment or even imagination.