...War! Such a damned waste…all those promising young men, all that warm flesh and warmer blood…gone forever…

Desdra could barely remember the last time she had found herself in the company of a handsome suitor who could provide her with all that she mentally craved and bodily required. The arrival of the Northern army at her doorstep, however, would become her great opportunity to replenish some of what she had lost. And if plans proved successful, as Desdra sensed they would, she and her sisters, along with their growing number of dependents, would not find themselves wanting for a very long time. Just as she had promised her maid Narcissa.

She glanced at the four-poster, canopied bed, felt a tingling in her nether region, and wondered if any of her sisters would welcome this choice opportunity in a similar fashion. If they're smart, they will, thought Desdra, and shuddered in yearning.

Finally, she had her answer for Narcissa. "Do not remove my wardrobe until I select some fitting attire. Also, please see to it that the household decanters are full to the brim with brandy, whiskey, and wine. Have Cook set aside some of our finest meats and cheeses, and keep them handy."

"Spirits? Regular food? Sounds like you's preparin' for a feast—or rather, a real party, like you used to throw before the war."

"In a way, I am. Men far from home, especially those used to sleeping on the hard ground, their bellies aching for anything besides hardtack and similarly bland army cuisine, might appreciate reminders of home." And might let down their guard, she added silently, but only to herself. She again looked toward the bed and the elegance surrounding her. "On second thought, Narcissa, leave this room as is."

"But Miss Dessie? These fine things? The bluecoats are sure to steal what ain't nailed down if we can't work fast enough to stop them in our—special way. Have you now taken leave of your good reason?"

"No Yankee will enter this room—at least, not without my express invitation." She glanced over her shoulder, watching her servant's eyebrows lift in surprise.

With swift perception dawning in her dark eyes, Narcissa gave her mistress a reproving expression and tsked like a schoolmarm. "You can't be thinkin'—"

"Let's just say I have alternate plans—apart from the usual—for the one I'll deem most promising upon the army's arrival. You and the servants can expertly handle the other details without my guidance. Feel free to enjoy yourselves…I certainly will."

"But they's Yankees."

"Too true, dear one"—Desdra smirked and stirred in desire—"but they are also hardy men…hot-blooded men. And it's been way too long…"