Temptation’s Tender Kiss

by French, Colleen

  Uriah lifted his hands in mock innocence. "I stand falsely accused by my own daughter."

  Reagan thrust a spare willow broom into his hands. "It seems to me that you've been sweeping your shop for years without Nettie's help."

  Caught, Uriah laughed good-naturedly. "That's what I get for having a daughter smarter than myself. I know I should never have paid that tutor! What does a woman need with geography and Latin?" He shook an ink-stained finger. "A dancemaster! Now that's who I should have hired. If you could dance, girl, you'd have caught yourself a husband by now and you'd be out of my hair."

  "What hair?" Reagan teased. "That pate's been lacking sorely for years. And you only paid half the tutor's fees. Josh's father paid the rest. " She pulled a clean rag from a bucket on the floor and began to dust the desk.

  "No respect. What is a man's life coming to when he can get no respect in his own home?"

  A sudden knocking came from above, startling all three of them.

  "What's that?" Reagan asked in a hushed voice.

  The knocking came again in a distinct pattern. Knock, knock-knock, knock.

  Uriah went to the ladder and lifted his broom, knocking in reply. The same pattern was repeated, then Uriah climbed up the ladder and released the hatch. Stepping down, Westley descended into the room.

  "Reagie!" He smiled. His arms were laden with a massive crate that was covered by a square of oilcloth.

  "Here, let me help you. " Uriah eased the crate to the floor. "You certain no one saw you?"

  "Who's to see me? Since you stabled old Hannah at the smithy's, who'd be in the carriage house?" He turned to Reagan, pushing his dark bangs up off his forehead. "This room is perfect. I knew it had to be your idea, Reagie."

  Uriah pulled the oilcloth off the wooden crate and peered inside. "You picked this up in broad daylight?"

  "Right in the alley where you told me. Old Friend Goodman's going to lend a hand to the Cause and never know it. " Westley looked to Reagan for approval. "After dark I can fetch some of the bigger pieces, but I'll need a horse and wagon."

  "Westley's welcome to take Hannah, isn't he, Papa?"

  "Of course he is. " Uriah lifted the crate and carried it to the far wall. "But I want you to be careful, boy. Those damned soldiers catch you picking up pieces of that printing press and they're bound to ask questions. You can't afford another interrogation like the last one."

  Westley nursed his chin, laughing. "No, you've got that. My jaw's still sore from the last!"

  Nettie thrust her broom at Westley, and the young man took it. "Now that you're here, Westley, I can get back to my pie. " She waved a hand over her head as she maneuvered unhindered across the room and out the secret doorway. "You've got enough hands to finish the cleaning. Will you be staying for dinner, boy?"

  "Yes, ma'am. If you've something to spare."

  "We haven't," she replied good-naturedly, disappearing into the darkness. "But that ain't never stopped no one in this house before."

  Finishing her dusting, Reagan tossed the rag into the bucket on the floor. "So, Westley, how do the ceiling joists look? Papa's afraid the whole thing's going to cave in."

  Westley patted a whitewashed wall. "Not in our lifetime. This room will be standing long after Georgie's army's fallen."

  "Excellent. How long will it take you to get the press pieces down here and put together? I'd like to start printing again as soon as possible."

  Uriah frowned. "Daughter, you don't know what's involved. It's going to take time."

  "How much time?" she asked shrewdly.

  Westley shrugged. "I can have the necessary pieces here by the end of the week."

  "But we need ink, paper," Uriah said with exasperation. "I'm short as it is at the shop. We start buying up all of the paper in the city and we're bound to have an investigation on our hands!"

  "He's right, Reagan," Westley agreed. "Your father told me about the redcoats you're lodging. This is going to get dangerous."

  "And it wasn't before?" She snatched the broom from his hands. "I plan on taking care of the captain and his drunken friend. They'll not be here long to bother us."

  Westley caught Reagan's hand, forcing her to look him in the eye. "You be careful. You don't know what you're dealing with. They say Major Burke's got no sense of humor when it comes to treason. They hung Nathan Hale without a trial."

  "But he was spying! All we're doing is writing down what we think."

  "And then contaminating other minds with it," Westley answered gravely.

  "I'm going to do this with or without your help, Westley. " She pulled away. "So, you just get the press in working order. I'll take over from there. " She began to sweep vigorously. "Now let's get to work. The captain's out for now, but I don't know how long he'll be."

  "Captain."

  "Major Burke. " Sterling stepped up to the major's desk and snapped to attention, saluting his commanding officer.

  The major returned the salute absently and went back to shuffling papers on his desk. "At ease, Captain."

  Sterling relaxed slightly, parting his feet and tucking his hands behind his back. Cautiously, he lifted his gaze to study the preoccupied man. The major was middle-aged, rail thin, and sporting an oversized powdered wig. His mouth seemed to be screwed into a perpetual pucker.

  "Captain Thayer reporting for duty, sir."

  "Yes, yes. " Major Burke waved a shriveled hand. "And what am I supposed to do with you?"

  "Sir?" Sterling shifted uneasily.

  "What am I to do with you?" the major repeated with annoyance. "I've already got three useless captains with this regiment. What in Christ's name am I to do with a fourth?" He dipped a quill into a bottle of ink and scrawled his signature across a document. "You damned blue-bellies. You buy yourself a fancy commission and then we're stuck with you. I'd lay a wager you don't know any more about battle than your wet nurse."

  Sterling suppressed an urge to chuckle. The man was right. Too many young men from wealthy families bought commissions and were then foisted upon career military leaders.

  Major Burke signed another document and then slammed his quill on the desk. "What did you say your name was, Captain?"

  "Thayer, sir. Grayson Thayer."

  "The same Thayers of Suffolk?"

  "Originally, sir. But I was born in the Colonies. Schooled in Eton and Oxford."

  "Well, bloody good for you, boy. " The major pushed back in his chair, looking at Sterling for the first time. "And handsome, too," he mocked. "Precisely what I need."

  Sterling stared at Burke, an uneasiness coming over him. He didn't like this man. He seemed too shrewd, too calculating. He could be dangerous. "You've no duty for me then, sir?"

  The major sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. His scarlet coat was neatly pressed, his white vest immaculate. His fringed gold epaulets swung gently. "I suppose I've got to produce an assignment or you'll most likely spend your time in some tavern gambling away your coin and catching the clap!"

  "Yes, sir," Sterling answered, lacking any other response.

  A piece of parchment on his desk caught Major Burke's eye and he snapped it up. "I've got it, boy! Have you seen this?" He shook the folded pamphlet.

  Sterling took the paper and skimmed it quickly. It was a patriot leaflet expounding individual's rights and the barbarity of monarchism. There was also a satirical piece on Major Burke himself.

  "Have you seen it?" the major demanded.

  "Not this one, but others like it. They're common enough in the cities. I'm told they're harmless," Sterling answered.

  "The bloody hell they're harmless! Treason! That's what it is. These damned Colonists need to be taught a lesson! Someone is printing this trumpery and distributing it. It does nothing but cause unrest among those who are still loyal to their mother country. " Major Burke stood. "I want you to investigate this fully. I want to know who this penman is and I want him arrested. Perhaps if we hang the bastard for treason, the other penmen will think again
before printing such swill! You may have as many men at your disposal as you deem necessary, but I want this stopped!"

  Sterling folded the evidence. "Yes, sir. Consider it done, sir."

  "That will be all then, Captain. You're dismissed."

  Sterling saluted, turned sharply, and left the room, the patriot pamphlet nestled snugly inside his coat.

  Chapter Four

  Reagan lifted the hood of her cloak and stepped outside, quietly closing the front door of the Llewellyn residence on Spruce Street. The sun was setting to the west leaving streaks of orange-gold across the dull winter horizon. A lamplighter came around the corner of Fourth Street and touched his torch to a lamp a few feet away. The ragged man nodded ever so slightly to Reagan and she nodded in return as he hurried by.

  She tucked her hands beneath her cloak, shivering as much from nervous anticipation as from the cold. Tonight was the night she and Westley would bring home the major components to the printing press. If all was on schedule, he should have already retrieved the Llewellyns' horse and wagon from the smithy's down the street where they boarded the beast; any moment now, he would pick her up.

  The front door latch clicked behind Reagan, and Captain Thayer stepped out on the stoop. They glanced up at each other in startled surprise.

  "C-Captain."

  Sterling gave an agitated grunt. "I thought you said you were retiring early this evening. " He meant to take his leave without anyone in the house knowing he was gone. He had an appointment in precisely fifteen minutes with his new contact from Valley Forge.

  Reagan drew her cloak closer, scrutinizing the officer with sharp, dark eyes. "I thought you'd said the same. I distinctly recall you telling Nettie that you were not to be disturbed until morning. A headache, I believe you said you were suffering."

  Sterling adjusted his already perfectly placed grenadier cap. "A woman has no business on the streets of Philadelphia after dark."

  "There was no danger on our streets before we were infested by the king's rats," she dared.

  He studied her perfect mouth, bemused. "You have a sharp tongue. Be thankful your lips are so sweet and that I have a good sense of humor. There are others who would not be so tolerant of your voiced opinions."

  Caught off guard by his backhanded compliment, Reagan stepped aside to let Sterling pass. If she intended to go with Westley, she'd have to rid herself of the redcoat quickly. "I suppose you have an engagement. Don't let me keep you."

  He stiffened. "An engagement? Certainly not. I just thought that a walk in the night air might clear my head."

  Reagan opened the front door. "Then have a good walk, Captain. Good evening."

  Sterling waited until she disappeared inside, and then hurried away. If he was late, there would be no contact tonight.

  Reagan waited an appropriate amount of time and then stuck her head outside the door. The captain was nowhere in sight. Relieved, she slipped out onto the stoop. A minute later a wagon came rattling down the street and Reagan rushed down the steps and leaped into the wagon. She laid her hand on Westley's arm as the old horse moved forward.

  "Ready?" her accomplice whispered.

  She smiled in the fading light. "Ready."

  Sterling swung open the gate, and the ancient hinges groaned loudly. Looking left and then right to be certain no one had seen him, he slipped into the courtyard and hurried toward the barn that loomed ahead.

  The sweet scent of fresh hay and pungent smell of warm horseflesh filled Sterling's nostrils as he slipped into the dark structure. All was silent save for the shifting of horses' hooves and the flapping of a loose shingle.

  "Smith," Sterling whispered into the inky blackness. "Smith, are you there?"

  A bass chuckle sounded from the darkness. "By the King's cod . . ." The man paused, waiting for the completion of the passwords.

  " . . . We'll overcome, by God. " Sterling finished on cue.

  "Welcome, Brother. " A huge bear of a man stepped from a horse stall, offering a packet of papers.

  Sterling accepted the bundle, glancing up at the bulky figure. In the darkness he could make nothing out of the man, only that he was immensely tall with a rounded belly. It's safer this way, he mused. The fewer identities I'm aware of, the safer it will be for all of us. He tucked the packet into his coat. "How is our army?"

  "Hungry," the voice replied. "Cold. My horses fare better than our men."

  Sterling nodded in understanding. A few short days ago he had been among his fellow soldiers, his belly growling with the rest of them. "We'll have to work out a system, Smith. How can I safely contact you?"

  The man plucked a stalk of straw from the floor and pushed it into his mouth. "Got a horse?"

  "I can get one."

  "Trouble with his foot . . . bad shoe. I can take a look at it anytime, day or night. There's more than one redcoat who uses my services."

  Sterling smiled, offering his hand. "Thank you."

  Smith took the smaller man's hand and clasped it tightly. "We don't want any thanks, soldier, we just want King Gordie's bastards out of our city."

  "I think we can do better than that," Sterling boasted. "I think we can chase them across the sea with their red coattails tucked between their legs!"

  Smith laughed heartily. "Now there's a sight I'd like to see."

  "Well, I'd better be going. I'm lodged with a family; I have to be careful. Good night to you, Brother Smith. I'll be seeing you."

  "Good night and Godspeed," the man answered, closing the barn door behind Sterling and locking it.

  At the sound of footsteps above in the kitchen, Reagan hurried through the storage room and up the steep stairs, her candle held tightly in her hand. She and Westley had managed to retrieve the main bulk of the printing press from behind John Goodman's old shop and carry it to the room below the carriage house without being noticed. Westley and her father would now have to reassemble the ancient Dutch-made press and see how many vital pieces were missing.

  Reagan stepped into the kitchen and closed the door. The fire on the hearth cast long, eerie fingers of light across the sanded plank floor. "Is someone there?" she called softly. She knew she'd heard footsteps, but there seemed to be no one about. "Nettie?" She blew out her candle and dropped it into the box on the wall.

  All was silent in the house except for the crackle and spit of the banked fire. Walking to the fireplace, Reagan reached for the poker. A hand clasped her shoulder and she jumped, crying out as she spun around.

  "Ho, there! Would you strike a unarmed man?" Lieutenant Gardener raised his hands in mock defense.

  She looked at the iron poker in her hand, then lowered it. "You scared me," she hedged. "I . . . I thought you'd gone out. " She wondered if he'd seen her emerge from the cellar.

  Roth Gardener took the fireplace implement from her hand and set it by the hearth. "What need would I have to go out on a cold night when I've a warm house, a fine bottle of whiskey, and a beautiful woman to keep me company?" His speech was thick with drink.

  Reagan sidestepped the lieutenant as he tried to take her hand. "It's late. Time I was abed. " She turned away, but he lunged forward and grasped her wrist, pulling her against him.

  "Why in such a hurry, little lady?" His sour breath was hot on her cheek.

  Suddenly she was afraid. "Let go of me."

  "I wouldn't hurt you, just looking for some warmth, a little affection."

  She stared directly into his bloodshot eyes. "Lieutenant, if you don't let go of me this instant, I'll report your behavior to your senior officer."

  Roth laughed, grasping her around the waist and pushing her back against the wooden worktable that dominated the center of the kitchen. "You think they care? You think anyone does? You're the spoils, Reagie."

  She struggled beneath his weight, trying unsuccessfully to shove him backward. His weight was too great for her, his arms too powerful even under the spell of hard liquor. Roth laughed harder, pressing his wet lips to her neck. "That's all rig
ht. I like my women with a little fight," he murmured.

  "Let go of me, you son of a bitch," she ordered through clenched teeth. She tried to bring her knee up to his groin.

  "No, no, no," Roth chided, as he shoved her knee between his legs. "We don't want to damage the goods, now do we?"

  Reagan managed to free one of her hands and knocked him square in the ear.

  "Ouch!" Roth snatched her hand and pulled it painfully behind her back. "What's say I take you right here in the kitchen?"

  She squeezed her eyes shut in pain. I can't believe this is happening, she thought dizzily. Not in my own home.

  Suddenly there were footsteps, but not her father's. Reagan's eyes flew open just in time to see Captain Thayer grab the lieutenant by his beribboned queue and snap his head back.

  "Lieutenant!" Sterling bellowed.

  "C-Captain. " Roth released his hold on Reagan, taking a step backward. He grasped his hair, trying to relieve the pressure.

  "What in the bloody hell are you doing, Lieutenant Gardener?"

  Roth gave a loud hiccup. "Sir?"

  "Do you speak the king's English, Lieutenant? I asked what you think you're doing?"

  "It was just in f-fun," Roth stuttered. "I meant the lady no h-harm."

  "Are you so desperate for a woman's company that you'll force yourself upon the unwilling?"

  "N-no, certainly not. I can have my choosing of the l-ladies."

  "Then I suggest you make your choosing elsewhere!" Sterling released Roth's hair, giving him a boost forward with the sole of his shiny black boot.

  The lieutenant fell against the wall, catching himself in the doorway.

  "Apologies are in order, Lieutenant," Sterling barked, sweeping his cloak off his broad shoulders.

  "S-sorry, mistress. " Roth murmured sheepishly. "I meant no harm."

  Reagan spun around, presenting her back to the two English officers. Her hands shook as she tried to regain her composure. If it hadn't been for Captain Thayer—for Grayson—she might well have been raped.

  Roth Gardener stumbled out of the kitchen.

  "Are you all right?" Sterling took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him. A single tear seeped from the corner of her eye.