Her urgency penetrated his resistance, and Jesse heard himself saying, "I guess another detour won't hurt. If you're wrong, we still won't be too far out of our way."

Amanda smiled, and in the fading light of dusk, he recognized a lot more in her eyes than just concern for her family. He took a deep breath and reached for her, and she came into his arms willingly.

For several minutes, he held her to him. He could feel the rapid thud of her heart, and the gentle rhythm of her breathing. Her hair smelled of flowers, tickling his nose as he rested his chin on the top of her head. For the life of him, he couldn't understand how he'd been drawn to this woman so quickly. It was as if the first meeting of their eyes had been the thousandth, and he'd felt a jolt that even her sharp words had done nothing to erase. He'd heard of falling in love at first sight, but until now had never believed it was possible.

Finally releasing her, Jesse said gruffly, "We have to let the mules rest. Get some sleep, and I'll wake you in a little while."

She smiled up at him. "Thank you for believing me."

"I don't suppose," he muttered, "that you have any notion of exactly where in the swamps they'll be? It might help us find them a lot quicker."

"I'm afraid not," she said with obvious regret. "But I do know that if we don't find them in time, we'll all be sorry."


******************

Amanda woke with a sudden jerk, trying to remember where she was. Then her memory returned in a rush, and she peered through the dark shadows toward Jesse. He was rolled up in his blanket a foot away, and she could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. As her eyes adjusted to the absence of light, she could make out small details.

Jesse's arm was bent beneath his head as a pillow, his body too long for the blanket. The dull gleam of his pistol was barely discernible at his side. He was taking no chance, she saw.

"What are you looking at?" Jesse asked softly, startling her.

When her heartbeat slowed, she said, "I didn't know you were awake."

"Do you think I could sleep knowing there are a few hundred Yankees prowling around?" Jesse sat up, folding his long legs in front of him. "You didn't sleep long. Why are you awake?"

"It could be because I'm rested."

"But it's not."

"No," she said. "It's not."

There was the rustle of damp leaves as he moved closer to her. His hand cupped her cheek, warm and strong and hard. She shuddered at the contact, and he pulled away.

"Scared?" he asked softly, and she nodded.

"Yes. Terrified. I wish I were asleep. At least my dreams aren't quite as scary."

He laughed. "What do you dream about?"

She was tempted to tell him the truth, that as a child she had dreamed about him, but she didn't. "Right now, fried chicken," she replied, and her stomach growled audibly.

Chuckling, Jesse lay down next to her. For a moment he fumbled in his pocket, then drew something out and held it up. She strained to see in the dim light. "Here," he said. "It's not fried chicken, but it may help."

To her surprise, it was a stick of hard candy. "Where did you get this?"

"I've been saving it for an emergency. This qualifies, I guess."

Amanda broke it in two, thrusting a piece into his palm. “My conscience would sting if I hogged it all. I insist we share."

"Sounds fair to me."

For several minutes they lay quietly, then Jesse asked, "Did you eat yours already?"

"Yes."

"I thought I heard you crunching. I like to savor mine for a while, make it last." His voice lowered huskily. "Are you always in such a hurry to enjoy things?"

"Sometimes." She took a deep breath. "And sometimes I like to make things last."

She was expecting it when he rolled to his side and pulled her into his embrace, expecting his kiss. What she wasn't expecting was the depth of her fiery response. Maybe it had been too long, maybe it was the heightened sense of being in danger, or maybe it was just Jesse: but whatever it was, Amanda knew she was lost.

And he seemed to know it too.

Caressing her, hands skimming lightly over her face, arms, and then shifting to her waist, Jesse stroked her quivering body with skillful touches. Amanda wore no stays or corset, and he found that out quickly. His fingers deftly undid the buttons of her shirtwaist and slid inside to stroke her bare skin, and Amanda caught her breath. Still kissing her, Jesse put a hand on her breast.

She arched upward, unable to think clearly, unable to do more than react. Once, he lifted his head to gaze down at her through lowered lashes, his eyes a hot, narrowed blue, but Amanda could barely think by then. Nothing mattered at this moment but Jesse, his touch and kiss and the way he was murmuring soft endearments to her, telling her she was beautiful, that he'd waited for her all his life. She believed him because she wanted to, because she needed to hear it from him.

And when she gave herself to him, it was completely, wholly, body and mind and soul. With Jesse inside her, nothing in the outside world could touch or hurt her. The aching tension grew higher and hotter until the world seemed to explode around her and she was drifting earthward like a feather, twisting and turning and as light as air. Jesse's voice was against her ear, breathless and hoarse, muttering her name as he buried his hands in her hair and collapsed atop her.

Drowsy, holding him in her arms and feeling his warm, damp body next to hers, she thought that no matter what else ever happened to her, she would have this memory to hold close.


******************

Riding through knee-high water that soaked her dress and made her uncomfortably aware that slithery creatures still inhabited the swamps, Amanda kept her gaze fastened on Jesse's tall silhouette. They had ridden part of the night and all day. She'd thought when she woke again that she would feel shy with him, but his easy smile and the light in his blue eyes had quickly eased her fears.

The sense of urgency was on them now, as it was dark again. The mules were weary and plodding. At least the rain that had plagued northern Mississippi in the past weeks had stopped. There was an almost full moon to provide light. Tree stumps and sluggish pools smelling of rotting wood and stagnant water were everywhere. Dry land seemed a thing of the past.

"It hardly seems likely the Yankees would come this way," Amanda ventured to say once, but Jesse pointed out what were to him obvious signs of their recent passage.

"The water here has been stirred up with a lot of mud, which indicates horses and men have passed through within the last few hours. It takes a while for that much mud to sink back to the bottom of the swamp."

"I don't know how you can tell the difference," Amanda said, peering at the cloudy water. Patches of moonlight on the water's surface were distorted and murky.

It was a relief when they finally reached comparatively dry land, and she slid from the mule onto the marshy bank with a sigh. One of the mules shook much as a dog would do, spraying her with foul-smelling swamp water. Looking down at her borrowed dress, Amanda had the rueful hope that it was not one of Deborah's best. It was certainly ruined now. If she'd known that their trip would entail sloshing through swamps, she'd have insisted upon borrowing men's trousers instead of the dress. She was grateful she'd refused the corset and most of the petticoats as being too uncomfortable and cumbersome. Maybe modern clothes didn't have the romantic appeal of the nineteenth century, but they were definitely more practical.

"Here," Jesse said, holding out a hand, and Amanda put her hand in his strong clasp as he helped her up a steep bank. There was something to be said, however, for the definite romantic appeal of the men in the nineteenth century, she decided when he swept her from her feet to lift her over another water-filled gully.

She took advantage of his gallantry by putting her arms around his neck and holding tightly, and he laughed softly. "If I didn't know better, Miss Brandon, I'd think you were a delicate creature."

"What makes you think I'm not? Just because I have endurance doesn't mean I'm not as fragile as the next woman."

"There's nothing fragile about you," Jesse remarked as he stopped and swung her to her feet on solid ground. "You have a determination that would put most men to shame."

"Do I?" She looked up at his shadowed face, and saw that he was smiling. "Why do you say that?"

"If you didn't," he replied softly, placing a finger under her chin and lowering his head to brush his mouth against hers, "I sure wouldn't be traveling through the swamps in the middle of the night on a wild notion."

"Don't you believe me?"

He kissed her again, then said, "Let's just say that I'll reserve my final judgment until later."

"Then you're doing this for me, not because you have any faith in my prediction." When he frowned and started to reply, she put a hand over his lips. "No. It's all right. I find it very gratifying that you have enough regard for me to agree to do this even when you don't really believe it."

Jesse stared at her in the dappled moonlight. "You're an odd little thing," he said after a moment. "You almost make me believe in destiny."

"Almost? Don't you believe in fate?"

"No. I believe man controls his own fate by his actions. Or I did until I met you, that is. Now I wonder if there aren't sometimes inevitable conclusions."

Amanda asked, "Do you mean kismet? Preordained destiny? One man for one woman? That kind of thing?"

"You must admit," he said wryly, "that there could be few other explanations for our ending up in the swamps like this. It's not exactly a rational thing for me to do, and I used to think I was a very rational man."