Beloved Enemy Read Online Free PDF

drinking. Already the effervescence lessened her trepidation; her spirits felt giddy. She should not become too relaxed or she would start singing “Dixie” and that would be a disaster here.
    Up on the dais at the far end of the room, Alexandria’s renowned fiddle master, old Joe Jackson, led the small string ensemble in a never-ending parade of melodies; many of them were new to Julia. Most of the younger male guests wore coats of military blue, but she resolved to look only at their faces while she considered which one shewould encourage. Her blood quickened with the excitement that permeated the ballroom. The war seemed a million miles away.
    Then she spied what she had fervently hoped would be there. A true smile of pleasure lit up her face as she wove through the dancers toward the buffet table in the adjoining dining room. A glistening mound of tan-colored caramels coated with powdered sugar beckoned to her from their silver dish.
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    Rob Montgomery ran his gloved finger around the collar of his freshly starched shirt. When he had been in the field, he considered himself fortunate to have a clean shirt; starching could go to the devil. He preferred it that way. He rubbed his neck where his collar had irritated his skin. Then he fumbled for his pocket watch, snapped open the lid and squinted at the time. Quarter past ten. From his vantage point on the sidelines, he had spent the past hour watching his cousin and friends sweep laughing belles around the dance floor.
    The music was very good, he admitted to himself. Before the war, he would have taken the nearest pretty young thing out to the center and whirled her into giddiness. But now—He glanced down at his right coat pocket that hid his useless hand. Even though he had pulled a glove over the lifeless fingers, he knew in his heart that no young lady would want to touch such a dead thing as his smashed hand. Damn those Rebs!
    For want of something better to do than drinking too much of Winstead’s good whiskey, Rob picked his way around the dancers and wandered back into the dining room. To kill the first hour, he had already sampled enough of the sweet delights that graced the snowy expanse of the damask-covered table. Crystallized fruits, sugar cookiesand gingerbread in artful piles, savory cheese sticks and anchovy paste spread on wafer-thin crackers, pecan tartlets, flavored gelatins and frozen charlottes, sliced jelly cake, chocolate-dipped lady fingers, glossy cherries in syrup—the bounty was not only endless, but overwhelming. What Rob really wanted was a good cup of strong coffee. Even more, he longed to be back in his own bed.
    Reaching for a sugared walnut, his attention was drawn to the stunning auburn-haired miss on the other side of the table. It was not her wasp-narrow waist circled with the golden ribbon or her grass-green taffeta gown that had caught his eye, nor her creamy white arms that moved with the grace of a willow in a breeze. Nor did he pause too long to regard her incredible green eyes made more intriguing by the frame of her black mask. Nor did his gaze linger too long on her moist pink lips that promised passion. Instead it was what she was doing with those lips that had piqued his interest.
    First, she slipped a caramel into her mouth. Then she surreptitiously glanced over each bare shoulder. Very provocative, Rob thought, though she was obviously not playing the coquette with an unseen admirer. No, her look was definitely furtive.
    Rob stepped behind a large potted palm where, unseen, he could observe her at closer quarters. Once the young woman assured herself of her privacy, she opened her reticule that hung from her wrist. It looked to be a little larger than the usual size worn at a ball. With another glance around, she dropped several caramels into her bag and pulled it shut.
    Rob smothered his laughter behind his good hand. He had done that same trick himself at a Fourth of July picnic many years ago at