Chapter Four

Chapter Four

As she entered into the darkened building, Leona unconsciously stepped closer to the large man beside her. She closed down her link with Trace as much as she could, as she didn’t want him to be exposed to the full extent of her emotions anymore. Jackson spoke to the sergeant in charge. When the man opened the door for them to walk back to the prisoners, Leona’s breath became short.

Jackson walked beside her as they went down the aisle toward where the supposed colonel was being kept. In a solitary cell sat a man.

The man was large and had wide shoulders. He had Trace’s narrow waist, but that was where the similarities ended. The man had blond hair, unkempt and dirty so it appeared brown. His eyes were an angry nondescript blue.

He sneered at her. “Oh look, a darkie bitch.”

Jackson responded immediately, lunging forward clearly with the full intent of ripping the insolent man to pieces. Leona’s touch on his arm stopped him, but only barely.

“I would like to have a private word with the colonel, please.”

“What could I possibly have to say to a Ni— Darkie?” The man spat in her direction.

Leona struggled to hold on to her temper. “I have news about your wife.” The man posing as Colonel Morgan fell silent and waited for her to continue. Leona turned to Jackson and said, “I will be all right. I do not think he will hurt me. Leave us, please.”

“I don’t like this at all, Leo…” He stopped at her pleading look. “Very well. I will wait over here.” As Jackson turned his deadly gaze at the prisoner he vowed, “You hurt a single hair on her head, and I will personally see to your long and painful death.” The Irishman turned and walked off to leave them in a relatively private situation.

The imposter came to the bars and glared at her. “Well, what is it? What do you know of my wife?”

Leona stepped closer, until she could have reached out and touched the man. Close enough that his ripe stench didn’t miss her nose and made her gag. “I know you are not Colonel Morgan. You are an imposter. What would they do if they knew what you had done to your commanding officer? Why, you would probably wish to remain here in the prison.”

At her admission, the man’s eyes bulged and he looked panicked. “What do you know? You are making this up. All darkies lie.” Even though the man’s eyes showed fear, his voice still contained enough venom to make her shiver and wish to be anywhere but there.

Leona narrowed her eyes in response. Over the years her experiences had taught her she didn’t like to be scared and threatened. “I know exactly who and what you are, Steven. I know all about you, your secret obsession with the colonel’s wife. Everything.”

Paling, the filthy man reached for her but stopped as he saw Jackson step forward with a menacing glare. “How do you know who I am? Bethany said no one should know me here.” As soon as he said it, he saw his mistake.

Realization dawned. Trace’s wife had set him up in order to be with his older brother. The thought left her cold. Rage began to rise within her. She realized she was unconsciously transmitting her feelings to Trace. First the fear and now the rage, for their link could never be completely closed.

“You are a disgrace. You are his older brother. He should have been able to trust you. It must have been so hard for you to take orders from your younger brother. You always were dumber than him.” She taunted him recklessly.

“You’re a liar. I don’t know this Steven person.”

“Ballocks. We both know you’re Steven Morgan. I know because, you asshole, you have blond hair and blue eyes. No amount of mud will cover your hair color. And even though you keep your eyes downcast, they are still blue. Your brother, on the other hand, has thick brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes. Not to mention that I would know him from a mile away. No, I am sure, you are Steven. There is no way you’re Trace, and when he finds out what you did… Well, if I cared what happened to you, I would feel sorry for you. But I don’t, so I won’t.”

Leona stepped back. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a chain with two rings. One was Trace’s academy ring. The second ring had been a gift to Trace from his father. “I hope you know what these are. Something he would never part with, not while he was alive. If you are Colonel Morgan, then where is your ring? Goodbye, Steven.”

She left without another word. They had set him up to be killed. Leona could feel the stare of the phony colonel boring holes into her back as she walked away. Shoulders straight, she never let him know how much he scared her.

Back at the darkened home, Trace shook with anger that she was so frightened and he could do nothing to help her. He had no way of finding the town even if he could see. Being blind didn’t do anything but complicate the situation even more.

He was so angry at his helplessness that he struck out at anything in his way. Again. Within moments her home was like a storm had blown through.

He knew when she returned and could hear her sharp intake of disbelief. She dropped her purchases on the floor in shock. “What the hell happened here?”

Trace stumbled over to her. He was furious as his gaze sightlessly sought out her face.

“Who was the man that you let paw you all over? Is that why you didn’t want me to come with you? Were you scared that he might not want you, seeing you with a man from ‘the other side of the war’?”

“What did you do to my house?”

“How the hell should I know? I’m blind, remember?” he sneered at her.

“My house. What did you do to my house?” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Blind, yes, but I didn’t think that you would be this disrespectful. What makes you think that I let a man paw all over me?”

“I felt it.” Even to his anger-clouded mind, that didn’t seem like a logical reason. “I just… I just know. You smell like a man was touching you. And you smell like you were around a man that was very dirty.”

“Impressive.” He wasn’t sure what to make of the change in her tone. She gripped his arm and cleared her throat. “The war is over. Apparently you are alive and in prison. I spoke with you today. Funny thing, though. You have blond hair and blue eyes.”

Trace sat down heavily on the bed. The war was over? The war was over! He was in the prison? The only person who would be able to pull off passing as him would be…

“The bastard,” he seethed. “It was planned all along.” All the pieces fell into place and the veil of fog that had been over his eyes was lifted.

“I should have known when I saw them together, whispering, and they said it was about my birthday. Damn her. Damn him.” Trace didn’t even acknowledge that there were tears falling from his eyes. His brain was working out the problem and coming up with a suitable punishment for his brother and his wife.

Elle sat silently through the whole tirade. After a while she asked, “So who are you really? If that man is who you say you are, then who are you?”

He faced the direction her voice had come from. “I am the true Colonel Morgan. He is an imposter.”

“Why should I believe you? It’s not like you have anything on you to prove who you are.”

“I’m blind. Why would I lie about who I am? I never said anything different about who I was. Do you believe me?” He pleaded for her to believe his words.

“Well, if you were trying to plant yourself as a spy, getting a head injury wasn’t the best way to go about doing it. And your story hasn’t changed about who you are, so very well, I’ll take your word for it.”

“What can you tell me about the man who calls himself me? Does he have anything that you remember that sticks out in your mind?”

“Besides his smell?”

A small chuckle. “Yes, besides that.” She could make him laugh even in the midst of all this bad news. Again in the back of his mind came a small yet persistent tingle of recognition, but he just couldn’t put a face he should remember with the feeling.

“Let me see… He was about as tall as you, but even under that dirt in his hair it was easy to tell that he was blond. His shoulders weren’t as broad as yours. He didn’t move with the same effortless grace that you do.”

Elle didn’t have any idea what her description was doing to Trace. He had completely focused on her words and was imagining how he looked through her eyes. It was very erotic for him, to find out how she pictured him.

It wasn’t just her words alone. They created a misty or hazy image in his mind and he could almost see what her words described. To her Trace was a tall, proud man. Handsome.

“I guess the one thing about him that stood out… Well, there were two things. One, a scar on his left cheek, down toward his chin.”

Trace knew that scar. He had given it to his brother Steven in a fight when he had been sixteen and Steven had been twenty. He had been ganged up on by his brothers for the last time and soundly beaten the tar out of his older brother.

“And the second thing?” His voice was hard with painful memories.

“His eyes.” Elle spoke slowly, as if unsure how her words would be accepted. “While they were blue they were scary in some way. It’s like…well, like…” She searched for the right word. “Soulless. They were soulless. It was like looking into the eyes of the devil himself.”

‘Soulless. It was like looking into the eyes of the devil himself.’ Trace had heard that description of his brother once before. But where? Who’d said that to him?

Why was this an important memory for him to remember? Why can’t I remember? Fists clenched as he searched for those lost memories that seemed always just out of reach.

It was his brother Steven. He knew that. Their eldest brother had been killed years earlier by a jealous husband who had found his wife and their brother David in bed together. After that, it was just Steven and Trace. Steven was the worst by far.

Steven was very hard on his slaves. He beat his wife for no reason and would kill a slave after blaming them for touching her. He was pure evil. So much more evil than David had ever been. Growing up with him had taught Trace how to defend himself at a young age.

But to plan his own brother’s murder… Was Steven really capable of that? Of course he was. He had always resented the fact that Trace had made colonel and he had to salute him. Hated that he was just a private in the army. Steven even thought that Bethany should have been his. Well, apparently, she really was.

Curiously, though, Trace wasn’t all that saddened about losing her. His son would be another story. If he was even his own son. He did love Garrett Hawkins Morgan with all his heart and always would, no matter if he was his flesh and blood or not.

Trace swallowed down his rage. Now was not the time for fury. It was the time for decisions. He waited for Elle to continue with her account of her day. When there were no more words forthcoming, he used his nose to find her scent and faced the direction where he believed her to be. And prodded.

“Is that it? What else did you do?” Why was he more concerned about the fact she had spent time with another male in town? It was like he was at the edge of a cliff waiting for her answer.

“I ate with a friend and went to the jail. Nothing more, besides getting some needed supplies.”

Trace barely suppressed the growl of rage at the thought of her eating with another male. Laughing for another man.