The Gift: Excerpt

"No," she whispered and the sound floated away on the breeze as the commander closed the distance between them. She backed up a step, wishing she could turn and run into the woods, wishing too she could bring out the rifle the last men here had confiscated and shoot a hole right through his black heart.

Her hands loosened and fluttered by her sides. She inhaled a sharp breath before raising her hands to rest at her throat. She shook her head, closing her eyes and opening them as if she could erase the sight walking towards her from her memories. She felt as if she were watching a ghost walk toward her.

"Not you. Not again," she said on such a low note that only the cat swishing its tail while he sat on the railing of her porch could have heard. "I guess the rumors were wrong. You didn't die."

Her bottom lip trembled and the words she wanted so much to say clung to her throat. Go away. Please, go away.

"Hello, Elice," the voice she'd dreaded floated around her, echoed inside her chest, hiding the erratic beat of her heart.

"What do you want?" she gasped out. She moved next to the cat and clung to the railing, holding on as best she could so her knees wouldn't buckle.

"A place to stay," he said and the timbre of his voice resonated in her soul. "A meal."

She shook her head and moistened her lips, daring herself to tell him what was on her mind. You can go to hell. She didn't dare. She didn't want to end up in a Yankee prison. Did he know what she'd done? Did he know she had left messages in the hollowed out trunk of an old oak tree when he'd been through these parts two years ago? If he'd been captured, she would have not felt happiness, but she'd done it to protect herself and her daughter.

"Your…" she brought her hand to her mouth, biting her knuckles to keep from telling him what she didn't want him to know.

"My?" he prompted her.

"You're not welcome here."