Temptation’s Tender Kiss

by French, Colleen

  "And you were well paid," the major snapped. A chair scraped the floor and there was silence.

  The third voice cleared his throat once, then again. "Ahh, you want me to carry on, Major?"

  "You think you can manage it without getting yourself hanged, Murray?"

  Murray. The spy's name is Murray, Sterling thought. His breath was coming easier now. They didn't know who the spy was, only that he was one of Major Burke's men.

  " . . . sir," Murray went on in reassurance. "I've had no problem getting in and out of the city."

  "When can you report again?"

  "A week, sir. I should know the identity of the spy by then."

  "You had damned straight better know or you'll be sitting out on one of those prison ships in the New York harbor!"

  Sterling could hear the major shuffling papers. He was about to dismiss the man called Murray. Sterling stepped away from the door, taking a seat on the settle. He was just removing one of his brother's lace handkerchiefs from his coat when the major's door swung open.

  "Yes, sir, you can count on me, sir. " A man of average height backed out of the office, saluting as he made his retreat. He wore a wrinkled red uniform coat, but from the rear Sterling couldn't make out what unit he was from.

  "Dismissed," Major Burke bellowed.

  The spy spun around and rushed out the door. Sterling only caught a brief glance of the side of his face as he hurried past. There was nothing unusual about the man—brown hair, dark eyes, medium build. It was going to be hard to track him down.

  "What the hell do you want, Thayer?"

  Sterling turned, startled to see the major standing in the doorway. Sterling stood, wiping his brow with the handkerchief. "Well, sir, I need to speak to you about my duty at the prison . . ."

  "I don't want to hear any more of your pansy-ass excuses, Thayer. I got another complaint the other day from some tavern down by the dock. You're still starting brawls, Thayer!"

  "It's not my fault, sir."

  "Of course it isn't! It's never your fault, is it, Thayer?"

  Sterling tucked his handkerchief back into his coat. His brother's words formed on the tip of his tongue. "When a man accuses another man of cheating, a gentleman must defend himself."

  "Spare me the dissertations. " He waved his hand, glancing at the desk. "Where, for Christ's sake, is my secretary?"

  "Went out to get you dinner, sir."

  The major shook his fist, the fringe of his epaulets shaking vigorously. "How the bloody hell are we supposed to win a war with no one for soldiers but Mama's boys and goat-futtering Germans! If we don't get out of this damned city, the whole bunch of you are going to eat, drink, and whore yourselves to death."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Now get out of my office, Thayer."

  "Yes, sir. " Sterling saluted as Major Burke spun around, marching back into his office.

  "And Thayer . . ."

  "Sir?"

  "I hear about you fighting anymore and you'll be cleaning horse stalls on Walnut Street!"

  "Yes, sir."

  Major Burke slammed his door so hard that a small portrait of someone's grandfather flew off the wall. Sterling gave a heavy sigh of relief, making a quick exit. He had to get back to Reagan's and compose a message immediately. He would request that he be removed from this assignment.

  "Elsa? Elsa, where are you?" Reagan hurried from room to room. Elsa was nowhere. In the kitchen, Reagan sought out Nettie. The old woman was dipping candles at the center table.

  "Nettie, where's Elsa?"

  "Thought she was with you. " Nettie sat perched on a tall cane stool, content with the methodical work.

  "She isn't with me. She hasn't been with me all day. I've been at Mistress Claggett's. I thought she was with you. She told me she was going to help you with the candles."

  "She left the same time you did this morning."

  "Nettie, I said she didn't go with me," Reagan repeated. "Where could she be?"

  "She's been missin' a lot lately. An hour here, an hour there."

  "How can you be so calm, Nettie? She could be hurt or lost."

  "That or found herself a beau."

  Reagan gasped. Such a thought had never occurred to her, not until that instant. "Oh my God," she murmured. It would be so easy for some nefarious redcoat to take advantage of her little Elsa.

  "It's what young girls do, you know," Nettie offered philosophically. "You had a beau once. That Joshua boy. He was right nice—thought you were going to marry him and then came this war fuss."

  "Nettie!" Reagan wrung her hands. "I don't know where to start looking for her."

  "Looking for who?" Sterling swept into the room, making a beeline for the cast-iron pot that hung on the hearth. Tucked safely beneath his coat was his message requesting that he be transferred immediately.

  "Elsa. She's missing. " Reagan was so frightened for her sister that for the moment she forgot her animosity toward him. "You've got to help me find her, Grayson."

  "She can't be missing. " He dipped a wooden ladle into the soup and sipped it loudly. "She's got to be here somewhere."

  Reagan snatched the dipper from his hand, dropping it into the pot. "She's been gone for hours. She could be anywhere."

  Reagan's face was so taut with fear that Sterling gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Calm down, honey. I'm certain there's logical explanation here."

  "That's what I said," Nettie piped up.

  Reagan stared up into Sterling's face. "We're afraid there might be a man involved."

  The look of horror on her face that was so great that Sterling smiled tenderly. "I'll find her. " He caught a wisp of Reagan's red hair on his finger and twirled it. It felt so good to be so near her. He could smell the fresh, clean scent of her skin. His mind filled with the memories of that one night they'd shared and he felt his loins quicken with need.

  Reagan laid her hand on his arm. "I'll go with you."

  "No."

  "Yes. I can't just sit here and do nothing."

  "No, you stay here in case she comes home before I get back."

  Reagan exhaled slowly. "I suppose you're right. " Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you know about this?"

  "Just stay here. " Sterling stole another sip of the warm broth in the pot and then went out the door.

  Reagan stood in the center of the kitchen in indecision for a moment. Something wasn't right here. For weeks she'd suspected that Grayson had something to do with the subtle changes in her sister, her demand for increased independence.

  Nettie's head popped up at the sound of Reagan's shoes tapping on the hardwood floor. "Where are you going?"

  "I'll be right back. You stay here and wait for Elsa."

  Reagan waited until Sterling turned the corner and then she went down the street after him. She seethed angrily as she picked her way down the muddy street. She didn't know what Grayson had to do with all of this, but she was damned mad. How dare he keep something from her that concerned her sister! Oh, God, Reagan thought suddenly. What if she's pregnant?

  "Reagan, where the hell do you think you're going?"

  She stopped short, nearly colliding with Grayson's tall, broad-shouldered frame. "G-Grayson. " She had been so caught up with her thoughts that she hadn't seen him standing at the corner.

  "I told you to stay put."

  "She's my sister. She could be in danger."

  "She's not in any danger. " Sterling found it difficult to keep his hands at his sides. He wanted so badly to stroke the line of her jawbone, to trace the arch of her eyebrows.

  She was dressed in a faded blue cotton gown with a kerchief thrown over her shoulders and tucked into her apron. Her mobcap had slipped to the back of her head so that a mass of bright red curls tumbled onto her shoulders. Her dress was so simple that she might have been mistaken for some serving wench out to do her mistress's bidding, but she held herself like a queen.

  It would be so hard for Sterling to leave her; it would be the mo
st difficult thing he'd ever had to do.

  Reagan held her ground stubbornly. "I said I'm going."

  Sterling groaned aloud. He didn't want to cause trouble for Ethan, but they had known that sooner or later this would happen. He only wished he could have warned Elsa and Ethan first.

  "All right," Sterling finally agreed. "But I want you to promise to stay calm. It's not what it seems."

  "What isn't what it seems?"

  Two passersby in green Hessian uniforms glanced over their shoulders with interest as they passed Sterling and Reagan on the street.

  "Shh!" Sterling pressed a finger to her soft lips. "Everyone for a block will hear you."

  "I don't care! Where's my sister? She's my responsibility!" she cried hysterically. "I promised Papa I'd take care of her!"

  On impulse, Sterling pulled Reagan into his arms, smoothing her unruly hair. "It's all right," he soothed, kissing her forehead. "It's all right, sweetheart. I'll take you to her."

  Reagan melted into Grayson's strong arms, feeling a relief of tension surge through her. How many nights had she wanted to come to him since Papa had died? How many times had she made it to his door before she turned and ran, retreating to the lonesome safety of her own bedchamber?

  "Grayson," she whispered, her voice raspy. She had to tell him that she did love him. She had to tell him that she didn't care if they called her whore. She needed him, she wanted him.

  "Not now, Reagie," he answered, feeling his throat constrict. "One thing at a time. " He brushed his lips over her damp brow and then released her. "People are watching," he murmured.

  Reagan stood for a moment, her eyes half closed as she composed herself. "Let's go."

  "You certain you don't just want me to bring her home?"

  She shook her head, taking his arm. Let people look. She'd lost her father, she wasn't going to lose Grayson, not yet. She was never going to love a man as much as she loved her arrogant Captain Thayer. General Clinton wouldn't remain in the city much longer, so she would make the best of the time she and Grayson had left. Reagan wasn't sure what had brought on this revelation, but she felt as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. "Lead the way."

  It was a short walk to the blacksmith's house, and Reagan and Sterling made it in silence. There was so much to say, yet nothing to say. They both knew that no matter what transpired with Elsa today, no matter how angry she was with him, tonight he would come to her bedchamber. Tonight she would lie in his arms again.

  "The smithy's? Why are we going here? This is where we keep our horse."

  "You know Ethan?" Sterling led her across the yard. There was a fresh coat of whitewash on a picket fence in the front yard. Someone had cultivated a flowerbed just beneath the windows of the neat frame house.

  "The blacksmith? Not really. Only in passing. " She frowned. "Elsa's here?"

  "Ethan's wife died. He has small children."

  "What's that got to do with little Elsa?"

  Sterling walked up to the front door and gave a knock. Somewhere behind the house a dog barked. "Reagan, she's not your little Elsa. It's time you faced up to it."

  The door swung open and Ethan appeared, red-faced from laughing. He wore a napkin tucked into his rough linen shirt. His face was freshly shaved, his hair wet and slicked back. "Captain!" Ethan's eyes widened. "Miss Reagan . . . Mistress Llewellyn."

  The sound of Elsa's laughter floated from the house, followed by a chorus of gleeful children.

  "Elsa? Is that you?" Reagan pushed her way past Grayson and the blacksmith, into the great room of the cozy house.

  Elsa looked up from the trestle table, where she stood over a towheaded child, dishing him out a portion of meat pie. "Reagan," she answered guiltily. The pie slid off the spoon and plopped onto the floor.

  The children giggled.

  "Elsa, what are you doing here?" Reagan glanced about the room, taking in. the utterly domestic scene. It looked as if she had just walked in on a family's dinner hour. There was a place set at the head of the table with a plate heaped with pie and slices of bread. On the opposite end of the table was a place setting with a delicate portion dished out—obviously Elsa's. Reagan surmised immediately that this was not the first time Elsa had had dinner with this man and his children.

  "Having rabbit pie," Elsa answered in a small voice.

  "M-Mistress Llewellyn," Ethan stammered.

  Sterling stepped inside and closed the door. "Reagan."

  "I want to know what the meaning of this is mister . . . Mr. . . ."

  "Cannon . . . Ethan Cannon, ma'am. " Ethan went to offer his hand, but then thought better of it. He snatched his napkin from his shirt.

  "Mr. Cannon, what are you doing with my sister?"

  "Wouldn't you like to sit down?" Ethan indicated a chair.

  "No, I don't want to sit down! Elsa! Get your cloak and come with me!"

  Elsa set the pie on the table and wiped her hands on her apron. "Don't you tell me what to do, Sister," she answered fiercely.

  Reagan opened her mouth to shout back at her sister, but everyone was staring at her—Grayson, the blacksmith, even the children. "Elsa," she said finally, in a calm, collected voice. "We can talk about this when we get home. Get your things."

  "I don't have to if I don't want to!"

  Ethan went to Elsa, touching her arm gently. "Go ahead, Elsa. Everyone is upset. We can talk tomorrow."

  "I don't think that will be necessary," Reagan answered.

  Elsa lifted her dark lashes, looking up at Ethan in a manner that made Reagan uncomfortable. What was that she saw in her sister's eyes? The poor girl worshipped the red-faced blacksmith!

  Ethan patted Elsa again, giving her a little push toward the door. "Go on with you," he said gently.

  "I'll be back," she told him, glancing at the children.

  "I know you will."

  Sterling stood at the door, opening it for Reagan and Elsa. "You go on," he told Reagan. "I'll be along right behind you. I want to speak with this man for a moment."

  Reagan looked up at him gratefully. "I think that's a good idea. " She lowered her voice. "Tell him that he is not to see my sister ever again, and if she comes up in the family way, I'll have him arrested."

  Sterling ushered the two women out of the house, with Ethan following behind. Sterling waited until Reagan and Elsa were on the street and then he turned back to Ethan. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen, but Elsa was gone all day. Reagan was afraid something had happened to her sister. I couldn't calm her down."

  The blacksmith stroked his chin. "It's not your fault," he answered dismally, watching his Elsa disappear around the corner. "It's gone on too long like this. I'll just have to tell Miss Reagan my intentions."

  "Those being?"

  The blacksmith stared at Sterling with his hooded dark eyes. "To marry her of course!"

  Sterling grinned. "Damn, then you've got your work cut out for you."

  "I'll just come to the house tomorrow and lay it out on the table for Miss Reagan. Elsa is a full-grown woman. She can do what she pleases under the law."

  Sterling frowned. "Maybe it would be better if you waited a few days, a week or two. Let things calm down. Reagan's been under a lot of stress since her father died."

  Ethan nodded. "If you say so, all right. You've been a good friend through all of this. I'll trust your opinions."

  Sterling patted the man's arm. "Give it a while and I'll let you know when I think it's safe to show your face. She can't be mad forever."

  Ethan nodded. "Well, guess I'd better get back to my colts. We hadn't meant for Elsa to be away so long, time just got away from us today. She wanted to stay for dinner, then she was going straight home."

  Sterling pushed his hand into his coat, feeling the smooth parchment of the letter he'd just composed. For the briefest moment, he considered not sending the message. How could he leave Reagan now? But if he was found out, there were so many who would suffer. Reagan would certainly be arre
sted, and probably Elsa and old Nettie as well.

  "Ethan, I've another message."

  Ethan looked to be sure no one was passing the house and then reached out to take it. Slowly Sterling removed the letter from his coat and handed it to the patriot blacksmith. "It looks like I'm going to have to be transferred. We've got a real mess here."

  "Sorry to hear that, friend. Anything I can do?"

  "No, just pass the letter and keep an eye on your back. " Sterling gave a wave and started for the Blue Boar Tavern. He'd let the dust settle back at the Llewellyn house and then he'd go home.

  When Sterling entered the front hall, all was quiet. Reagan was waiting for him in the parlor. She sat at the spinet playing a nameless tune.

  "You took care of it?"

  "Reagan."

  She lifted her hands from the keyboard. "Did you take care of it or didn't you?"

  He leaned on the doorframe. "I told him to let things settle down and then come talk to you."

  "Why did you say that? There's nothing to talk about. Elsa says he didn't touch her. I believe her."

  Sterling sighed. "Do we have to talk about this tonight?" He tossed his cap on a chair and came up behind her. He lifted her mane of heavy hair off her neck and kissed her nape.

  Reagan shivered. "You knew about the blacksmith. Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice sounded breathy to her.

  Sterling kissed her again and again, slowly making his way to her ear. "I'll tell you anything you want . . . later."

  "Grayson," she whispered, letting her eyes close. "Not here. Not now."

  "When?" He nibbled at the lobe of her ear, sending a flood of goosebumps down her back.

  "We have to be discreet. " He was removing the kerchief that served as a modesty piece. He slid one hand into the bodice of her gown and she leaned against him. "No one must know."

  Sterling pulled her to her feet burying his face in the valley between her breasts. He could feel her heart beating wildly beneath his lips. "Oh, God, I've missed you."

  "Grayson. " She struggled weakly. Not here, not in her father's parlor. What decent woman made love to a man on the floor of her father's parlor. Reagan nearly laughed as she felt Sterling lowering her to the wool carpet. What decent woman made love to the enemy?

  Reagan ran her fingers through Sterling's hair, returning his kisses with a fierce wanting. Suddenly everything bottled inside her was spilling forth. She pushed off his coat and clawed at the opening of his white shirt, tugging it over his head. She pressed kisses to his hard, bare chest as he tugged at the strings of her bodice.