"I know what you told me, but when they stopped after he died, I was so sure—" He cut himself off.
Reagan lifted her head to study his face. It was taut with concentration. "Major Burke is hellbent on catching this man and stringing him up by a noose."
"Why are you telling me?" She rolled on top of him, sitting up. She caressed his broad shoulders, reveling in the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips. "I told you I don't know anything about them, and even if I did—"
"You wouldn't tell me?"
"Are you going to tell me when the Army's moving? Where they're going?"
Wish to hell I knew, he mused. His eyes met hers. She had the most heavenly dark eyes. He could never tell what she was thinking. "Certainly not, Continental!" He raised up, taking her nipple between his lips. No matter how many times they made love, he could never get enough of her. She gave to him from her heart.
"Grayson," she breathed, pressing her lips into his sweet-smelling hair.
Sterling ached to hear her call him by his true name rather than his brother's. "Reagan," he cajoled.
She rolled into his arms, stroking his thigh. Their lips met, and she moaned softly.
"Reagan, this is serious business. You have to tell them it's gotten too dangerous. " He knew she knew who the penman was. "Major Burke's got the halfbreed on it. If he catches them, there'll never be a trial."
Reagan ran her fingertips over the corded muscles of his chest, down his flat stomach to the apex between his thighs. "No more talk," she murmured. "Not now."
Sterling sank back into the pillows as she stroked his burgeoning shaft. His thoughts scattered to the winds as she brought her mouth down to kiss the tender flesh of his manhood.
"Oh, Reagan," he cried, entwining his fingers in her rich auburn hair. "The things you do to a man . . ."
She teased and taunted him with her tongue and mouth, her own desire rising to match his. Her ability to please him the way he pleased her made her heart sing. Here between the sheets she felt no animosity between them. Without his scarlet coat she could love him as she wanted to be loved.
His resistance waning, Sterling rolled Reagan over onto the discarded pamphlet. She twisted in ecstasy as he lowered his body over hers and flesh met flesh.
"Now, Grayson," she cried. "Love me now."
"No, not yet. " He kissed her damp neck, cupping her breast with his hand.
She caught his head, threading her fingers through his golden hair as she led his mouth to the throbbing nipple. "You torture me" she protested weakly.
"That's not torture," he teased huskily. "This is. " He lowered his mouth to the triangle of bright red curls between her thighs, and she cried out in delight.
Reagan's breath came faster and faster. The room spun until she was delirious with want.
"Now, Grayson," she told him.
He slipped his hand beneath her buttocks and lifted her. She raised her hips in aid, parting her thighs in reception of his first thrust.
Reagan sank into the bed in utter relief, and then slowly began to rise and fall, meeting his rhythm as her drive for fulfillment overpowered all reason. The two rose and fell in unison until they reached the heavens, burst into shards of feathery light, and drifted back to the soft down of Sterling's feather tick.
"Oh, Reagan, why can't it be like this forever?" Sterling asked when he found his voice. He rested on his side, his arms draped over her middle, still unwilling to let her go.
"You ask too many questions," she whispered sleepily. "You want what cannot be. I love you, isn't that enough?"
He caressed her flushed cheek, pressing a kiss to her lips. "You're too sensible for a woman, my sweet. Your father was right in giving you such a masculine name."
"Shh. " She brought his head to her breasts. "Sleep. I'll have to go back to my room soon."
"I don't know why you insist on leaving, why you won't let me sleep in your bed."
"I told you. " She lifted her dark lashes. Her eyes still smoldered with the passion they'd spent. "Elsa mustn't know. Besides, she thought, I have to be able to sneak downstairs. I have to be able to work on my essays while you sleep, my love.
Sterling shook his head. He knew there was no sense in getting into this discussion about Elsa. Reagan was so stubborn, so hardheaded when it came to discussing her sister. "Wake me when you go. " He kissed her again and then closed his eyes.
For a long time Reagan lay listening to his breathing, stroking his broad back and corded muscular shoulders. With her head clear again, her thoughts raced. Why had Grayson asked her about the pamphlets? Why had he told her she had to warn the penman? It just didn't make sense. A redcoat didn't warn the enemy. There were a lot of things about Captain Grayson Thayer that didn't make sense.
Chapter Nineteen
"You're going to get yourself into trouble spending so much time in the Blue Boar. " Reagan stood in the front hall watching Sterling adjust his grenadier cap. "Soldiers shot and killed someone in there last week."
He ran his hands over his immaculate, pressed uniform coat. "We don't shoot our own—at least not on purpose."
"It's not safe for a man to take a pint of ale in this city these days without worrying about being murdered."
"He was a thief. He tried to slice up one of the barmaids with a butchering knife."
"You go right ahead and play your cards, but if you get shot, don't come home here asking me to tend your wounds and kiss your brow."
"So tender-hearted. " Sterling brushed a kiss against her lips. She tasted of gingerbread.
Reagan swung open the front door and stepped back to let him pass. She hated it when he left the house, transforming into the enemy she knew she must despise. At home she could pretend he was just a man, but when he left the confines of Spruce Street he was once again a redcoat.
"Just don't say I didn't warn you."
Sterling turned on the front step to face her. She was dressed in cotton petticoats with a spotted bodice and an apron. A mobcap was perched precariously on the back of her head, her mass of firelit curls thrust under it. Her cheeks were rosy from the warmth of the kitchen and her dark eyes sparkled.
These past few weeks she seemed so happy, and that made him happy. Her gingerbread sales had increased twofold in the last fortnight, and she was busy day and night keeping up with the orders. Not only were there a lot of soldiers purchasing the sweet cake, but also quite a few private citizens. Thanks to the anonymous benefactor, she always had a supply of the necessary ingredients. When she got low, the dry goods miraculously appeared on the front stoop.
"You going to be baking all afternoon?"
Reagan dimpled mischievously. She already had a new pamphlet going to press. There was a good two hours of work to be done in the secret room. "All afternoon."
"I love you. " He kissed his finger and touched the tip of her nose.
"I told you, I don't want to hear your sweet talk. Lies, it's nothing but lies."
"Say it. " He stood on the lower step looking up at her.
"You're causing a scene. Look, carriages are stopping out front," she lied. "You'll be getting beaned with a rotten turnip any minute."
"Say it," he cajoled.
"It's not true," she playing the now-familiar game.
"Say it anyway. Lie to me."
She chuckled. "All right, but it's only to make you leave. You're letting flies in the house."
He grasped her hand, white with flour, and began to kiss her knuckles one at a time. "Say it or I'll really embarrass you."
"I love you," she whispered, snatching her hand from his grasp.
"Louder."
He's so handsome she thought, even in his scarlet coat. "I love you," she repeated.
"That's better. " Giving her a wink, Sterling turned on the cobblestone walk and headed for the Blue Boar.
Reagan watched him until he disappeared from sight and then went back into the house. In the kitchen she poured a batch of gingerbread mixture into a rectangular
baking pan and set it on the hearth.
Elsa sat on the floor beside Nettie in her rocking chair. The old woman darned a wool stocking, her sightless eyes no hindrance, while Elsa rolled a ball of yarn across the hardwood floor for her kitten.
"You going downstairs to get apples now that the captain is gone?" Elsa asked Reagan.
Reagan had to smile. Elsa had decided that all of the time Reagan spent in the cellar, when Grayson was out of the house, she was getting apples for apple pie. Elsa didn't seem to notice that they rarely had apple pie, but since her sister didn't question it, Reagan saw no need to come up with a better alibi.
"Yes, I think I will. What are you going to do?"
Elsa stroked Mittens, and the cat arched its back purring audibly. "If you think it would be all right, I want to take some of your gingerbread to Reverend Marboro. Mistress Corby said he was feeling poorly."
"Oh, I don't know, Elsa. I don't like you on the street alone."
"I'll go just the way I go to church, through the Smythes' grape arbor, around Henderson's, and then through Joshua's garden. His mama told me it was fine as long as I didn't step on her baby boxwoods she's growing near the fountain."
"I don't know, Elsa. " Reagan busied herself putting away the flour and sugar. "You're always gone so long when you run an errand for the reverend."
Elsa twisted the scarlet ribbon in her hair that Reagan had bought as the peace offering. "That's because the Smythes' gray cat has a new bunch of kittens. I always stop to visit them."
Reagan sighed. Since the incident at the market, she and Elsa had become friends again. There had been no more talk of the blacksmith nor had Elsa spoken of any notions of living on her own. She had almost returned to herself again, and for that, Reagan was thankful. With Grayson and the pamphlets to think about, she didn't have the time or energy for any other complications in her life right now.
Reagan watched Elsa bounce up and dawn on the tips of her toes anxiously. "Please, Sister. I'll be back before you come up out of the cellar."
Reagan knew Elsa couldn't tell time, and yet lately she seemed to have developed an uncanny knack for knowing how long Reagan would be in the cellar, or how long she and Grayson would be gone on their route to deliver gingerbread and pamphlets. "Well, all right. But don't stay long. One cup of Mistress Corby's chamomile tea and then you come home. No talking to strangers, and stay off the street."
Elsa gave a squeal of delight. She ran to Reagan and pressed a kiss to her cheek before she dashed off down the hall.
"Grown into a young woman, that girl has," Nettie offered, rocking rhythmically.
Reagan watched her petite, dark-haired sister disappear around the corner. "That she has, and it scares me."
"That she might not need you?"
Reagan turned to the old woman. "Whatever do you mean? Elsa will always need me."
Nettie went on rocking, her wrinkled face breaking into a smile. "Things happen that ye'd never expect, that's what I like 'bout life."
"I'm going downstairs to work. Could you watch my gingerbread?"
"Just leave it to old Nettie. She can smell done gingerbread a mile away."
Reagan laughed, lighting a candle before she started down the steps. "My gingerbread will never be as good as yours."
"Oh, I reckon it will when you've been bakin' it seventy-odd years."
Nodding in agreement, Reagan went through the cellar door and closed it behind her. Once she was in the secret room, she lit her oil lamps and went to work on setting her type for the next leaflet. With Westley's help, she figured they'd be printing by next week.
Some time later Reagan reached through the slit in her petticoats and into the pocket she wore tied around her waist and extricated Uriah's old silver pocket watch. An hour had passed. She wiped her damp brow with the corner of her apron. Without air circulation, it was stifling down here.
Wistfully, Reagan looked up at the trapdoor that led into the carriage house. The air that the door brought in when open was magnificently refreshing . . . but of course Papa had told her to always keep it fastened from the inside. She looked up at it again. What harm could it do if she just left it open for a few minutes?
Reagan scrambled up the ladder rungs, unlatched the door, and heaved it upward. The fresh, cool spring air hit her like a splash of well water. Sighing with pleasure, she brushed back her damp locks and then went back down the ladder and returned to her typesetting.
Reagan wasn't sure how much time had passed when she realized she was so thirsty that she'd have to go up for a drink of water. Blowing out the lamp for safety's sake, she took her candle and went out of the room, through the cellar, and up the ladder into the kitchen. Out in the sitting parlor she could hear Nettie humming as the old woman dusted the keys on the spinet. Reagan took a long sip from the ladle left in the water bucket near the door, and then poured herself a full tankard to take back downstairs.
"Elsa back?"
"Not yet," Nettie answered.
Reagan checked her father's pocketwatch again. She'd been in the cellar two hours. It was time Elsa was home. Nervously, Reagan went to the front window in the parlor. "You think I should go looking for her, Nettie?"
Nettie went on dusting, sounding each note as she dusted the keys. "Give her a little time. She didn't go right after you went downstairs."
Reagan sipped her tankard of water, tapping her foot. "I don't know. It would only take me a few minutes to walk over to the church. " She pushed back the drapes to get a better look at the street.
"Holy Mary!" Reagan breathed.
Nettie lifted her dustrag, startled by the tone of Reagan's voice. "What is it, child?"
"Soldiers!" She stood frozen by the window, watching a Hessian officer come up the front steps. "And they've got that bastard half-breed with them!"
An immediate pounding sounded at the door.
"What do they want?" Reagan gripped her tankard, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.
"I don't know, but you'd best go answer that door before they break it in."
Reagan nodded, setting down her water. Her heart beat loudly in her chest as she crossed the short distance to the front hall. Taking a deep breath, she swung the door open. "What do you want?"
"Ve are of sa Corps of Feldjager of Hesse-Cassel. " The burly German pushed past her into the front hall, his muddy boots leaving a trail behind him. "Major Burke has sent us fur de search of sis home."
Stricken, Reagan stared at the pock-faced officer. "Search? What do you mean? You have no cause to search!" Stoic soldiers filed past her, fanning into different rooms.
"Yes, ve do haf cause. " The leader shook a piece of foolscap in front of her nose. "Sis is cause. A varrant fur see search of any home see major sees fit to search."
Reagan's eyes narrowed to slits as the half-breed, Indian John, stepped into her front hall and closed the door behind him.
He swept off his battered felt cocked hat. His clothes were cleaner than the last time she had seen him, but his one good eye had not lost that evil glint that had frightened her so.
"You! What are you doing here? Get out!" To her dismay, she could hear the soldiers stomping through her house, scraping furniture across the polished floors and opening drawers. Upstairs, Nettie fussed with someone as he searched Grayson's room.
"It's like the greencoat told ya. We're here to search. " He reached out to touch her and she jerked back.
"Search for what?"
"Suspicious evidence. " His scarred face turned up in a lopsided grin. It seems that captain of yours is too busy futterin' to do his job. Somebody's writin' them papers again, and the major wants to know who."
Color diffused through Reagan's cheeks. "My father's dead. He can't very well be printing from the grave, can he?"
"You vant us to go downstairs?" a soldier shouted from down the hall.
The German officer glanced at Reagan. "Vhat is downstairs?"
Reagan's throat constricted so that she thou
ght she'd not be able to speak. "N-nothing. Nothing really. Storage. It was where we kept our food before your army hauled it all off."
The German watched her facial expressions. "Take mine man downstairs."
"But—"
"Now!" he shouted, his face growing red.
Reagan glanced at the half-breed, then hurried down the hall. The young soldier who had been ordered to take into the cellar fell into step behind her.
"We'll have to take a light. It's dark down there. " She chose a candle rather than a lantern, which would produce more light, and lit it. Lifting the latch on the cellar door, she started down the steep, rickety steps.
The soldier remained directly behind her.
"You see, nothing but junk. " She lifted the candle to illuminate the piles of clutter. The cracked butterchurn still lay on its side on the dirt floor; her mother's broken spindle stood covered with cobwebs.
"Vhere does dis lead?" The soldier pointed into the next small room.
"More storage. That's where we kept our food, but there's not much left."
"You vill take me."
Her hand trembling, Reagan lifted the candle. "Come on then, but don't blame me if you get bit by a rat!"
"R—rat? You haf rats here?" The soldier glanced uneasily at the floor.
Noting his fear, Reagan took the advantage. "Big rats. Can't keep a cat down here because the rats are bigger than they are," she explained as she took him into the next chamber.
"I sink I haf seen enuf. Dere is no-sing suspicious here."
"I told you, nothing but junk and a few rats. " She stood with her back against the secret door.
The soldier turned and started for the stairs. "Bring sat candle here so I can see where I valk."
A triumphant smile on her face, Reagan led the young German back up into the kitchen.
"Sere is no-sing down sare but junk and rats," the soldier reported to his commanding officer.
The German gave a harrumph, crossing his arms over his chest. "I told sa major sat sis was a waste of time," he told Indian John. "Next time you want men, you get your own. I haf better sings to do than bother innocent vomen."
Indian John leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, his eyes fastened to Reagan's face. "You're right, Hans. I don't see nothin'. But then that don't mean there ain't anything here, does it?"
Temptation’s Tender Kiss Page 20