Was Malcolm McCall really the package Timothy had arranged for her to pick up? This man who couldn’t fathom that she could possibly be the operative he was supposed to meet? If he was, she wasn’t going to cut him any slack. RELATED: 10 Black Romance Authors You've Been Missing Out OnĮlle felt a sting of indignation alongside her confusion. “I’m here because I received a missive from an associate, but that couldn’t be you,” he said. He shook his head and regarded her much too appreciatively. Malcolm’s incredulous bark of laughter cut off her scheming. If he rushed her, she could give him a quick jab and redirect his momentum and use it to send him over the edge of the cliff. He took a step toward her, and she tried to discern if he had been tipped off about her meeting, and whether she could reach the blade in her garter quickly enough. “Are you here for a rendezvous?” he asked. She wasn’t used to the sensation of wracking her mind for something and coming up empty. It also sparked a memory, one that hovered just out of reach.
Something in that voice made her warm where she should have been cold, the very last thing she should be feeling. “Miss Elle? What the devil are you doing here?” he asked, his voice low. RELATED: The 24 Best Historical Romance Books That Will Steal Your Heart Had he followed her? Perhaps his earlier deference had been a misdirection.
The last rays of winter sunlight glinted off of the buttons of his jacket, like a warning flashed from afar. Standing before her, once again, was Malcolm McCall. She’d be a lot more tired working a field all day if the Union were to fall, that was certain.Ī twig snapped behind her and she whirled. There was a time for fatigue, and that was when the infernal war was over. She pushed through it, fighting the undertow of exhaustion that tugged at her skirts and her eyelids. She pulled her cloak closer and shivered in the river breeze as a familiar weariness descended upon her. The setting sun stretched its fingers down the length of the river, its fiery caress tinting the waves with dabs of orange and gold.Įlle admired the water as it churned by, powerful enough to break free of nearly any restraint, and she was envious.
Elle reached the meeting point, a secluded bluff overlooking the James.
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