“Are you a doctor?” Cold anger clipped his words, shoving icy daggers into her soul.

  “No, I am not a doctor. But—”

  “But nothing. If you are not a doctor, then what right do you have to keep me in the dark like this? This comes off now!”

  With the rage erupting from him, Leona blinked a few times, reminding herself that he was scared and that was making him scarier than she’d known he would be. She rose from his side. She carried the cup away and came back to sit beside him.

  Dampening her lips, she willed her hands to stop shaking. “Hold still while I unwrap your head. I know I am not a doctor, but at least keep your eyes closed until I get all the bandaging off. Then just open them slowly. You do not want to burn them since they have been in the dark for so long.”

  “Just get on with it. I am not stupid, you know.” His voice cut her to the quick and brought a wave of involuntary tears to her eyes.

  “Of course.”

  Her voice held no hint of the tears that clouded her vision, but Trace could feel them in his own eyes. He knew that he had hurt her, could feel her pain at his words, and had no way of explaining it to himself.

  Could this be his wife? No, Bethany did not take care of other people. She was more concerned with herself. She rarely dealt with their child.

  Bethany, the epitome of grace and beauty. A petite brown-haired, blue-eyed woman, she appeared to be sweet and kind. That was a farce. She was a spoiled rich girl. A vindictive woman who took what she wanted without concern of who might be hurt. She was very mean to the slaves and even mean to the people that she associated with.

  Trace had slaves because his father had had them. He didn’t agree with the idea of owning a person, owning slaves, and for that reason he had not been at all ready to go to war to get more slaves. But Bethany would not be seen to have a husband who didn’t wish to keep slavery around.

  They should be able to get slaves from wherever they wanted to. After all, those people were inferior. At least, that’s what Bethany believed. Not Trace. But he had secrets that he’d never told anyone. Well, not since he was sixteen.

  Regardless, he knew the woman tending him wasn’t his wife. She smelled like a mix of the outdoors—a fresh scent, and a hint of a flower, a familiar one but one he couldn’t identify right now—instead of an overly rich, bottled smell. A soft gentle scent. Comforting. Calming. He had never thought of the outdoors as having a sensual smell, but with her it worked.

  He felt the bandages coming off. Her movements were steady yet very gentle as she unwound the layers of material that surrounded his head and removed the soft squares from over his eyes. Her arms encircled his head, making her subtle scent tantalize his nose even more. Trace focused on her smell and not the fact that he would soon find out if he could see again.

  “They are off.”

  Trace began to open his eyes slowly. Nothing but dark. When he had his eyes open all the way it was still just as dark. He couldn’t see.

  He couldn’t see. Damn it, he was blind. Rage welled up inside of him. It built up like a volcano needing to explode. He was useless. He was blind.

  “I cannot see. Damn it! I cannot see. What did you do to me? If you had taken me to a doctor, I wouldn’t be blind right now. This is your fault. Do you understand that? You… You are to blame for this.” Trace shoved blindly and connected with something soft, her arm maybe, what did he know, he was blind. “Get away from me. This is your fault.”

  Trace heard her walk off. His blood raged. It burned from deep within his soul. He lost himself to the anger. Gave himself over to the rage. He ranted and raved, his voice getting louder and louder as his anger and disbelief came to the surface. It was like a large explosion and he was going to blow for quite a while.

  He tore at the blankets and threw anything within his reach. Pillows flew and the fact that they were not his belongings did not matter. He lurched from the bed and fell flat on his face. His muscles had grown so weak during his time in bed, with their lack of use, that they couldn’t support him at all.

  Head splitting, Trace pounded on the cold floor as he emitted deep gut-wrenching cries. Cries of disbelief and despair for his situation.

  Grief of never seeing his child again. Fear of living the rest of his life in the dark.

  In part of his mind, Trace waited for her to try to calm him down. When she did not, he grew angry again, and perhaps more scared, as he imagined himself alone. It was one thing to be blindfolded and in the dark alone, and something completely different to know you couldn’t see and believe yourself to be alone. He struggled to a sitting position.

  “Are you still here?” His voice rang rough and gravely. “Or did you leave because of your guilt? Do you just not like me because I am white? Is that why you let me go blind?”

  There was so much venom in his voice it chilled Leona to the bone. Trace’s face was nothing more than a glowering mask of rage.

  Leona sat frozen to her seat and so did not move when he lashed out. He caught her on the face with jagged nails and drew blood. Somehow, she still held on to her calm, rose silently and walked away from him with blood welling up to drip down her face.

  Leona’s temper had begun to rise as his continued snipes at her wore down the edges of her control. Even as she struggled to contain it, his harsh words fell on her like blocks of ice. They shattered her heart and her foolish childhood dreams and fantasies. “I risked my own life to get you out of that field. You had been picked clean by men believing you to be dead. Or rather by men who didn’t care what your state was but knew were you too weak to defend yourself against them. I brought you to my house because you had lost so much blood I didn’t think you would last going anywhere else.

  “Apparently my decision to save your worthless spoiled hide was a mistake, and I apologize for not ignoring your bleeding body and taking you all the way into town to see the doctor. I did the best I could, and I am sorry that my attempts to nurse you for over a month were nothing but a waste of time. I will get ready to take you to the doctor in the morning.”

  He rounded on her. “Do you know who you’re talking to? Do you? You are insolent. What is your name?”

  She didn’t respond, just stared at the shell of a man she’d thought about often.

  Without waiting for an answer from her, he continued his tirade. “I am Colonel Morgan. I demand you take me to the nearest town.”

  She gave short bark of laughter. “You demand? You? Demand? Me?” Her voice was no longer caring, but scornful and harsh. “I am no slave for you to order around, nor am I one of your soldiers. I have already said that if you wished to go to town I would take you, but you do not give me orders. Do we understand each other, Colonel Morgan? I am not yours to order around. If I didn’t like you because of your skin color then why would I have rescued you? Don’t be stupid.”

  She knew she’d shocked him, for he stared in her direction in silence. She supposed it was because as a colonel in the army he was used to instant obedience, could not even fathom that a woman, a mere woman, would defy him. Plus of course, how he had been raised.

  Leona flattened her lips as she strove to locate her lost control. “Perhaps you would like to get off the floor now?”

  “What do you think? That I like to be down here? Of course I want to get up.” He fumbled with his arms and found the edge of the bed and pulled himself up clumsily.

  Leona remained silent as he regained the sleeping pallet. After he sat back, she rose and began to pick up the things that he had thrown in his fit of rage. Her body trembled with exhaustion and her face stung. The scratch would leave a scar. This man had left another mark on her for all time.

  “Who are you?” The question came after they had been in silence for a while.

  “My name is of no concern, especially since you are leaving tomorrow.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cleaning up your mess and making dinner.” There was no censure in her words. See, I can do this without letting him know that he affects me in any way at all. He won’t know this from me, and I will continue to carry all our secrets with me to the grave.

  “Dinner? How am I supposed to eat? I am blind, or have you forgotten?” His voice rose with resentment again and he spoke with reckless anger. Strong fists grabbed and scrunched the blankets.

  “The same way you have been eating, with some help. Why is this any different than eating with the blindfold on? You couldn’t see then and you managed. Why is now different?”

  He muttered some unflattering words beneath his breath and she didn’t respond to them, not going to be drawn into another senseless argument.

  Dinner was horrible. Trace made a huge mess, finally forgoing utensils and eating like a wild animal. Leona didn’t say one word to him. She made three attempts to have a conversation but he growled at her and so she finally fell silent.

  After dinner she assisted him as he stumbled very weakly back to his bed and lay down with his face inches from the cold stone wall.

  He just couldn’t figure out where he was at. His world, once bright, had gone black and he didn’t know how to fix it. His sleep, after it was obtained, was full of old memories—long-forgotten memories—or so he had believed.

  * * * *

  Trace, aged twelve

  “What do you think? Do you think it is possible?”

  “Of course it is. That is, if you aren’t scared.” There was a hint of teasing in that soft voice, and a lot of challenge.

  “Be quiet, girl. You know I am not scared. I am older than you and don’t know how to be scared.”

  “By three years, that is not much older. Besides, I have already done it so I have no reason to be scared.”

  “When did you do this?” The boy grabbed her by her skinny arm and shook her until her vision blurred. “Not last night, did you? Tell me it wasn’t at night.” He was scared for her safety and she knew it and he knew she did and that it made her happy.

  “Stop shaking me. Yes, I did it last night. I am not scared of the dark.” She smiled up into his eyes.

  The young boy couldn’t help but smile back into those mischievous tawny eyes. She was so full of life. The only one who could keep up with him. The only one that looked at him like he had just handed her the moon. Something moved inside him that made him stiffen, and he wondered what that feeling had been. “Promise me you won’t do anything like this again, at least not without me around.”

  “Okay. I promise. But I have to go home now. See you later.” With a quick grin and a jaunty wave, she headed off.

  Not able to let her go, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. One hand cupped her face and the stark difference in their skin color made him feel all the more possessive toward her. Their relationship was about to change. He was about to end their friendship. Made him want to protect her. Her beauty astounded him. She was his. He was hers. His lips touched hers for the first time and both of them felt the entwining of their souls.

  She pulled free and ran off without a second look. He knew she never realized that he had marked her for all eternity.

  Chapter Three

  Trace woke up sweating, alone and surrounded by the dark. He lay there and listened to the sounds of the night. Just listened.

  The sound of water running somewhere, like a pool or waterfall, reached his ears. The smell that his nose picked up on did not have the odor of salt water, so it had to be fresh. Then he located her scent.

  She was not far. He could hear her breathing and smell her. She smelled a lot more like that flower than the outdoors. He still couldn’t place the flower but it was very familiar to him, that much he knew. Her breathing hitched and he heard her turn over.

  “What are you doing awake?” Her honeyed voice reached out to stroke him. His eyes closed and he felt himself lean into her words as they caressed his face and bathed him in a warm glow. Her words alone made him feel safe even in his darkened world.

  “I am listening. Is there water nearby?”

  “Yes. There is fresh water and a hot spring nearby.”

  “I can hear the water, and I could smell that it was fresh water.”

  There was the rustle of material followed by the soft padding of feet crossing the floor. He could feel her warmth surround him as she came closer. “That’s wonderful. You will soon learn to utilize your other senses.” She touched his arm, sending waves of heat through his body. “How do you feel? Do you have a fever or anything like it?”

  He had a fever all right. Trace cleared his throat as he shook his head. “No, I am fine. Just not tired. I guess I slept so much I am not sleepy any longer. What time is it?”

  “Near dawn. Can you not hear the birds beginning to wake? Can you not smell the freshness of the dawn, the crispness that only comes with the morning?” There was pure joy in her voice as she spoke of the wonders to him.

  Instead of snapping at her, Trace focused on her words and found he could hear what she spoke of. His anger was gone just by hearing her voice. He could smell the morning—it had a very unique smell. A smile broke across his face. She brought joy to him. A beacon of light in his darkened world.

  “How is it you know so much about being blind? Are you blind?”

  “My mother lost her sight about three years before she died.”

  “My apologies.”

  “Thank you. Look, I am offering to help you learn how to cope with your blindness. Or I can take you to town. But my offer is there.”

  Trace thought about her words. By all rights he should go to town. But then he might be captured as the enemy. And be at a serious disadvantage with his blindness. Perhaps she was on his side and could provide useful information for the war. On the other hand, she could be a spy for the other side.

  He would take her up on it. He would learn what he needed to then if she did turn out to be a spy he would capture her. “I would like to stay and learn what I can from you.”

  Trace heard her breathing change and wondered if he was right about the spy thing. No, he had to be wrong. His gut told him that she wasn’t a spy.

  “Very well. I will help you as much as I can.”

  “Thank you. Does this mean you will tell me your name? How did your mother learn to cope?”

  “She learned to use her ears and her other senses. You can call me Elle.” She pronounced it just like the letter ‘L’ in the alphabet.

  “How did she die?”

  “She had some disease that we couldn’t cure. I still don’t know what it was.” She cleared her throat. “So, tell me about you, Colonel Morgan. What are you doing here? Where are you from?”

  There was compulsion in her voice. Trace found he did not want to ignore her questions. He wanted to answer them all. So, against his better judgment, he did. With that voice of hers she would make an incredible interrogator.

  “I am from a large plantation. I came from across the sea. Obviously, I came here to fight in the war. I have a wife…”

  Trace stopped because of a sharp pain that lanced his body. When it finally diminished, he continued. “I have a son who is nine years old.”

  “What is your plantation called? What do you raise on it?” Her question fell casually.

  “Hawk’s Cove. It is beautiful there. By the water. We raise tobacco and cotton.”

  “This means you have slaves.” The voice was harsh and accusing.

  “Yes, but they are treated quite well.”

  “That would mean you are fighting to take people from this island to use as slaves.” The heartbroken sound of her voice struck a chord in him.

  “Yes. Look, I do not agree with slavery. I would just as soon let mine go, but then someone would take them up and perhaps not treat them as well.”

  Leona thought about his words and the fact he was going to be here for a while with her. No one else, just him and her. It was part of why she’d given him just Elle for her name—in case he recalled much like she did.

  “You may not agree with it, but in your own way you support it. Enough. What you do is your business, not mine.” Leona dropped the conversation. She didn’t want to go through this. She just couldn’t. Not with him.

  Leona rose and changed into her buckskins then went back over to where he still sat on the bed. “Ready to begin your lessons? I think we should start small and allow you to build up your strength, as well.”

  “Lead on, little one.” A shiver of desire ran through her body at his words.

  They spent the day working on the interior of her home. Since her mother had been blind, most of the furniture was along the walls. Trace learned to count his steps. Most of the day, they were touching, side by side, as she tried not to forget he was the representation of all she despised and was married. Her heart wasn’t in agreement.

  * * * *

  As the days passed, they fell into a routine. Trace grew more and more confident as his other senses increased. He and Leona walked around the home, and she took him farther and farther into the mountains.

  They soaked in the hot spring and bathed in the running water pool. Trace’s body filled out and he got life back into him.

  Leona put more and more things in his path, and with the help of a walking stick he learned to circumvent them all with ease and dexterity. He could pass for a man that had his vision intact. At least here in and around my home.

  The night was a different story. That was when memories and desires could run free.

  “What do you look like, Elle?” Trace asked her one day.

  Leona stopped in her tracks. How am I going to answer this one? She countered with a question of her own. “What do you think I look like?”

  Trace laughed. “I imagine you come to about my shoulder. Long hair, straight. Beautiful smile. Kind eyes. Come on, tell me,” his deep voice coaxed.