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Rain mixed with tears as I fled through the forest
Half-blinded, I failed to see the horse and rider that stepped out of the trees and directly into my path. When I finally registered man and beast, my shrill cry of fear unsettled the horse.
I had one glimpse of a superb rider controlling the magnificent animal before I had to throw myself off the trail and out of the horse’s path. In that one brief glance I saw a man with his face completely hidden by a hat.
I noticed no more before I landed facedown in a leafy azalea. Before I could move from the clutches of the shrub, I felt the cold bite of steel against the back of my neck.
A masculine voice behind me gave me a blood-chilling warning.
“Make another move and you’ll die.”
On a trip to Vicksburg, Mississippi, with writer/history buff Pat Sellers, Caroline Burnes toured several “haunted” plantations and the historic battlefields. That trip, combined with the incredible letter written by a Union soldier to his wife and read during the PBS series on the Civil War, sparked the idea for Flesh and Blood. Caroline believes that the past is alive, and never far behind us.
Flesh and Blood
Caroline Burnes
MILLS & BOON
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For my parents, Roy and Hilda Haines,
and Marjorie Manvel. They live in my heart.
Contents
Prologue
The brass bell jangled merrily as Frank Devlin pushed open the heavy glass door at Mason’s Liquor Store and gave a good-natured grin to the store owner, short and plump Robert Mason, who stood behind the counter. Frank’s long strides took him unerringly to the cooler at the rear of the store, where he searched through the cold bottles of champagne and wines, until he found the one bottle he sought and pulled it out.
“Thanks for chilling this for me, Robert. This is Emma’s absolute favorite.”
“Special occasion, eh?” Robert already knew. For the past five years on this date he’d gone through the same routine with Frank. The special champagne, the ritual of having it chilled and ready so that when Frank got home he could pop the cork without delay. The Devlins were two of his favorite customers. They were so much in love, even after five years of marriage.
“Emma claims that you call me up and remind me to do this,” Frank said. He stopped near the selection of red wines. “She says you’re a handsome rascal. She’s also implied that I grew my mustache because she thinks yours is sexy.”
“If Emma Devlin was my wife, I’d give her champagne for breakfast everyday,” Robert answered. “She’s a knockout, and you’re a lucky man.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”
The brass bell over the door jangled again. Frank selected a bottle of wine for the special dinner he knew his wife was cooking and turned back toward the cash register with a grin that quickly faded from his face. The wine bottle he held aloft was lowered to his side.
“Hit
