Honor Bound (Shades of Gray Civil War Serial Trilogy Volume II) Read online

  HONOR BOUND

  Vol. II

  Shades of Gray Civil War Trilogy

  by

  Jessica James

  OTHER BOOKS BY JESSICA JAMES

  WOMEN’S FICTION

  LACEWOOD

  AWARD-WINNING SUSPENSE

  DEADLINE (Book 1 Phantom Force Tactical)

  FINE LINE (Book 2 Phantom Force Tactical)

  FRONT LINE (Book 3 Phantom Force Tactical)

  PRESIDENTIAL ADVANTAGE

  MEANT TO BE: A Novel of Honor and Duty

  AWARD-WINNING HISTORICAL FICTION:

  THE LION OF THE SOUTH

  NOBLE CAUSE (Book 1 Heroes Through History)

  (An alternative ending to Shades of Gray)

  ABOVE AND BEYOND (Book 2 Heroes Through History)

  LIBERTY AND DESTINY (Book 3 Heroes Through History)

  NEW IN 2021

  SHADES OF GRAY COMPLETE SERIAL TRILOGY (June 29)

  Or order individually:

  Vol. 1: DUTY BOUND (June 1)

  Vol. 2: HONOR BOUND (June 8)

  Vol. 3: GLORY BOUND (June 15)

  Print Volume will be released June 29.

  Honor Bound

  by

  Jessica James

  HONOR BOUND (Vol. II Shades of Gray Trilogy)

  Copyright 2021 by Jessica James

  jessicajamesbooks.com

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, locations, and events are all products of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual events or real persons are completely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

  The Shades of Gray Trilogy was previously published as Shades of Gray, and later released as Noble Cause with a happily-ever-after ending. It has been revised, expanded and enhanced for this edition.

  The Shades of Gray Trilogy was previously published as Shades of Gray, and later released as Noble Cause with a happily-ever-after ending. It has been revised, expanded and enhanced for this edition.

  Table of Contents:

  Book II Honor Bound

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  BONUS MATERIAL

  CONNECTION LINKS

  OTHER BOOKS BY JESSICA JAMES

  This book was previously published as Shades of Gray, and later re-released as Noble Cause with a happily-ever-after ending. It has been revised, expanded and enhanced for this edition.

  Honor Bound

  Volume II

  There is a true glory and a true honor. The glory of duty done—the honor of the integrity of principle.

  – Robert E. Lee

  Chapter 1

  He shed soft slumbers on mine eyes, in spite of all my foes. I woke and wondered at the grace that guarded my repose.

  – Psalm 3, Poem by Isaac Watts

  Andrea felt like her broken body was falling. She didn’t know where it fell from or where it was falling to, only that it spun and spiraled out of control in a gaping darkness full of agony.

  Over and over again she expected to hit bottom and prepared for the inevitable end. But the bottom never came, and the end never followed, and the pain most certainly did not recede.

  Though she didn’t know how or why, somehow she’d been delivered into a deep, dark pit where sunlight and warmth were nothing but distant memories. Evil, like death, has a distinctive smell, and it was manifestly evident in this place.

  Images of filthy men of every description, many mere bags of bones, flitted before her eyes. She could see them—and smell them—as they stared despondently into nothingness. Bloodied and seeping bandages clung to more than a few, forcing Andrea to choke back the bile that rose in her throat from the horrid stench of pain and suffering.

  As if those sensory memories weren’t bad enough, the sounds that continued to ring through her ears were still worse. Men from behind the veil of darkness sometimes yelled, other times taunted, causing a dreadful chorus of voices to join as one, begging for mercy or pleading for death.

  Was she dreaming?

  She couldn’t tell.

  Were they memories?

  She didn’t want to know.

  I’m in Hell, she thought, as another agonizing wave of pain sent her nerves aquiver, hurling her back into the darkness.

  At times, Andrea thought she heard voices. They were gentle now—and close—but muffled and indistinct. “I declayah, she alive on de inside, but dead on de outside,” she thought she heard a woman’s voice say. She wanted to speak, to tell her she was not dead, but her two lips seemed fused into one and would not move.

  Once she thought she heard a man’s voice. He sounded hurried. Or was it worried? He sounded familiar, but she could not think…could not think before the foggy fingers seized her back into their grasp.

  In this trance that was not quite sleep, Andrea tried to fight the dark clouds that hovered overhead, ever ready to blot her out. Unable to talk and incapable of moving, she lay quietly for what seemed like days, but just as easily could have been hours or weeks, and waited for the darkness to recede.

  When Andrea re-gained consciousness, she began to see visions
that she assumed were memories—but they were fleeting, lapping at the edges of her mind, and then receding before she could grasp them. Everything was far away and hazy; all details were blurred and unreal. It was maddening. And though the memories tore at her mind and her heart, she did not want to fall back into the darkness again. She wanted to go toward the light that she saw, toward the crackling fire she heard…toward the warmth.

  Little by little the darkness began to fall away, morphing into a deep, blurry fog that allowed Andrea to sense, rather than see, a dim light. She focused on moving her fingers, concentrated hard, and was rewarded with the texture of a soft blanket.

  She knew with certainty then that she was no longer in that miserable dark abyss that haunted her dreams.

  The sound of breaking glass interrupted her thoughts.

  “Izzie, what is you about?” a stern woman’s voice filled the room. “You clean that up, you heah?”

  “She moved her fingers,” a younger voice exclaimed.

  “Is you awake?” The first voice sounded like it was leaning right over top of her.

  Andrea tried to open her eyes. How could eyelids be this heavy? She had wrestled horses with less effort than this. She paused a moment to summon her strength, and then slowly they complied. The effort revealed two black faces, mother and daughter perhaps, bending over her. They stared at her as if she had performed a miracle or had risen from the dead. “Thirsty,” was all Andrea could manage to say.

  One of the women helped Andrea sit up while the other held the glass of water.

  “It’s miracular, Izzie,” she heard the older woman say. “Go get Zach. Tell him to fetch Massa drekly. She livin’ again.”

  Sometime later, though she didn’t know if it was the next day or the next week, Andrea awoke to the sound of someone humming beside her bed. “Where am I?” she whispered in a hoarse voice.

  “Don’t you go worrying about where you is, Mistis. We gonna take good care of you.”

  Andrea nodded and floated back into the darkness. She wanted to ask about her leg. Was it still there? But waves of pain erased the questions from her lips. She wanted to talk; yet she wanted to sleep. Sleep, more than anything, because that seemed to help her escape the pain.

  But sleep was no longer possible, and there was no such thing as a world without pain. Nerve and muscle alike racked her with agony. Even the blood in her veins seemed afire, the searing heat stabbing her with lightning bolts of torment.

  Struggling to open her eyes at last, Andrea took the first good look at her surroundings. The veiled light that entered through a slot in the closed drapes of a window attracted her attention first. She blinked at the brightness, a light so intense to her sensitive eyes that it seemed alive. She longed to stand in it, to feel its healing warmth.

  Turning her head slightly, Andrea’s gaze swept left to right. She appeared to be in a room of comfort and elegance, lying in a great poster bed of mahogany on a downy feather mattress.

  Without warning, a plump, black woman burst into the room with a tray. “Natchally, I thought you might be awoken today. How’s about a little brekfest?”

  “Where am I?” Andrea’s mouth felt strange, and she had trouble forming the words.

  “I told you, don’t worry about where you is.”

  “But where am I?” Andrea said, louder this time. Although her voice was feeble, she was amazed she could actually speak.

  “I can’t prezactly say. But you’s in the home of my massa.” The woman’s tone was indignant.

  “Who is your master?” Andrea looked around, confused.

  “Don’t you worry none about dat. Ole Him a good man. Take good care of you.”

  Andrea saw the tray of food just inches from her hand. Without thinking of the end result, she reached up and gave a weak pull. The servant screamed in astonished surprise when dishes tumbled and crashed to the floor.

  “I demand to know where I am.” Andrea clenched her teeth against the pain that seized her body.

  “And I demand that you stop this behavior this instant,” came a deep voice from the doorway.

  Andrea stared and blinked, hoping a second look would change the image before her. The light coming through the door behind him almost blinded her, yet his identity was unmistakable.

  “You,” was all she could say, or at least, thought she said. Andrea looked him up and down, believing he might not be real, that she might be dreaming again. His boots and uniform were mud-spattered, as if he’d ridden a long way in a short amount of time. Yet he appeared to be tall as an oak tree, his eyes sparking with the light of battle. She blinked, trying to take in every detail of this soldierly figure that radiated a presence and power that filled her with rage.

  “I’s sorry, Massa. I didn’t know you was home.” The servant moved away from the wall and picked up a piece of glass.

  “I just arrived,” Hunter said in a low, unemotional voice. “You can clean up this mess later.”

  Mattie backed toward the door, keeping her eyes on Andrea. “Careful, she got de devil in her head,” she whispered before exiting.

  “Miss, in the future, I would appreciate it if you could try to act civilized in my home.” Hunter strode into the room, seeming to fill it with both his size and presence.

  His words caused anger and confusion, and the resulting rush of blood brought with it so much pain that Andrea’s eyelids trembled. “In your home?” Even to her own ears the words sounded as if they came with great effort and from a great distance. Andrea took a deep ragged breath and tried again. “Have I not endured enough of the South’s hospitality?”

  * * *

  Captain Alexander Hunter raised one eyebrow, amazed at the girl’s quick tongue so early in her recovery. But when he gazed upon her pain-filled countenance, a feeling of sympathy arose in him.

  “I apologize on behalf of the Confederacy for your treatment,” he said in a gentle voice. “There was a…miscommunication concerning your imprisonment.”

  She squinted at him with a look of pure revulsion. “Mis-communi-cation?” She stumbled over the word as if it were more than her muddled brain could manage. “So I am a prisoner here, now?” The look on her face, even with her weakness, was hostile. “Here for you to take out your vengeance?”

  “Miss, you are not a prisoner here. You are free to leave as soon as you are able.”

  “I am able,” she retorted, making an attempt to rise. Although she appeared to make a valiant effort, her head barely made it off the pillow.

  For a moment, Hunter pitied the girl for what she had tolerated in prison and what she would endure in her recovery. Her weary and distrustful eyes stared strangely, as if unable to comprehend the events that were yet unfolding.

  Deciding to let her rest, Hunter turned to leave, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob, and turned. “You need not fear your treatment here. I pledge my word.”

  He waited for a response, but none came. The girl had become occupied with the ring on her finger, staring at it as if it were new to her—or she just now remembered from where it had come.

  “Daniel is here?” she asked, not removing her eyes from the ring.

  The question caught Hunter by surprise. “Yes, he is here.”

  Her countenance grew peaceful. The knowledge of his brother’s presence, even in death, apparently gave her some sort of comfort.

  Deciding that silence was his best ally, Hunter exited the room and hoped a good night’s sleep would cure his houseguest’s irritable demeanor.

  Chapter 2

  Wake not a sleeping lion.

  – Chinese Proverb

  Hunter discovered the next morning that he was mistaken in believing there would be an amiable discussion after a night of rest. Arriving in her chamber a few moments after his servant had entered with breakfast, he heard her mumble, “I’m not hungry.”

  “Miss, you must be hungry.” Hunter tried to pretend the events of the preceding
day had never occurred. “You haven’t enough flesh on your bones to provide decent forage for a buzzard.”

  Izzie sat the tray down and scurried from the room.

  “I trust you slept well.” Pretending to fix his collar in the looking glass, Hunter studied her reflection instead. She appeared pale and exhausted, her eyes deeply sunken. She blinked hard as she glared in his direction, apparently trying to see through clouds of fog and pain.

  “Are you comfortable?” He turned around at her quietness, wondering if there was something more he could do to ease her pain.

  “Now, Captain Hunter?” she replied scornfully. “Or before you came in?”

  Hunter laughed, unaffected by her demeanor. “You need not feel distressed at being here. I’ll do all in my power to help you recover.”

  “Then you are more kind than wise, Captain Hunter.”

  Although stung by her combativeness, Hunter thought it best to ignore the stab. “You have the advantage of me. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” He stared at her hard. “Not your real one, anyway.”

  The girl turned her head away and studied the wall. It seemed she was weighing the advantages and disadvantages of telling the truth.

  “Andrea.” She paused, still gazing at the wall. “Evans.”

  Hunter pondered the chance that the name was real. Regardless, she appeared to have resigned herself to the fact she would be recovering in his house. “Well, Andrea Evans, is there anything I can do for you?”

  Andrea favored him with little more than a suspicious stare. “Let me go.”

  “I would, but you’re in no condition—”

  Hunter watched her eyes shut violently against his words, as if hearing them spoken aloud was more pain than she could endure.

  “Miss Evans, I wish to assure you that I am an honorable man. And despite the fact you are my enemy, your treatment here will be just. I can hardly be more generous.”

  Her head turned slowly toward him. “You did not possess the common decency to grant me my preferred punishment then, and I have little hope you have acquired that trait now.”