Beloved Enemy. Mary Schaller

      

      How can I be falling in love with this man? I barely know him. I must remember he’s a Yankee!

      Rob took her hand in his. Julia inhaled sharply at the touch of his warm skin, but did not pull out of his grasp.

      “Ahh,” he murmured as he caressed the back of her hand. “I see that they are still cold. I will remedy the situation.”

      He gently released her, then he reached inside his coat and withdrew a small package.

      She quickly untied the ribbon and pulled away the paper. “Gloves!” she exclaimed, fondling the thick fleece-lined suede.

      “But these are quite expensive,” she whispered. “It would be wicked of me to accept them.”

      “It would be very wicked of you to reject them,” he murmured.

      His seductive voice sent a delicious chill down her spine.

      “True, Major,” she replied, pulling on the gloves with satisfaction. “I do try to avoid wickedness whenever possible.”

      Praise for Mary Schaller writing as Tori Phillips

      “Phillips is a new star on the historical romance horizon:

       she’s literate, witty and tells a good story.”

      —Publishers Weekly

      The Dark Knight

      “Filled with the turbulent details of religious intolerance

       in England, this carefully crafted romance…proves that

       love is the most powerful emotion when it resides in the

       hearts of strong men and women.”

      —Romantic Times

      One Knight in Venice

      “Intense and soul searching, One Night in Venice swings

       from the dark side of human nature through the

       treacherous inquisition to the admirable characters

       willing to face suffering or even death to save others.”

      —Affaire de Coeur

      Lady of the Knight

      “In this fun tale, Ms. Phillips weaves an

       adventurous story of chase and budding love

       and puts in some lessons along the way.”

      —Romantic Times

      Beloved Enemy

      Mary Schaller

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      At my birth, the front of heaven was full of fiery shapes.

      —William Shakespeare

       King Henry IV, Part I

      This book is dedicated with lots of love to our first

       granddaughter, Shelby Washburne Williams, who was

       born on July 29, 2002—the hottest day of the year.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Epilogue

      Author Note

      Chapter One

      “My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee.”

      —Romeo and Juliet

       William Shakespeare

      Alexandria, Virginia

       December 1863

      “I do declare, Carolyn, this is your most harebrained scheme ever.”

      Looking up from the cream-colored invitation in her hand, Julia Chandler fixed a properly reproving glare on her younger sister. At least, Julia hoped her expression looked stern, though she had to admit she was secretly as excited as Carolyn. The last time Julia had held such a coveted invitation as this one was two years ago. “How did you get this?”

      Her sister fiddled with a broad band of green satin ribbon that circled the skirt of her day dress. Though she studied her fingers, the two bright patches of pink in Carolyn’s cheeks betrayed the girl’s feelings.

      Julia silently reread the words written in elegant copperplate script:

      The pleasure of your company is requested at a Masked Ball upon the evening of the thirty-first of December at nine o’clock, given at the home of Mr. George Winstead for the pleasure of his family and friends.

      She breathed deeply to calm the butterflies that skittered in her stomach.

      “I did not realize that we had resumed our friendship with the Winsteads,” she continued aloud in a feigned arch tone. “I am sure that it has not slipped Mrs. Winstead’s mind that our family is still very much in sympathy with the Confederate cause.”

      Shrugging her shoulders, Carolyn scraped her slipper over the polished floorboards of the girls’ upstairs bedroom. A sly smile crept across her lips. “Wouldn’t it just make that old Melinda Winstead itch if she knew we attended her grand party?”

      Julia could picture the pique of the disagreeable Winstead daughter. Such boldness on the Chandlers’ part would definitely twist the nose of that jumped-up Yankee chit. Melinda deserved a tweaking after all the hateful things she had said about the Chandlers, especially after Frank Shaffer’s death at Manassas. Clearing her throat, Julia fanned herself with the invitation to the premier social event of the Christmas season.