The Officer's Desire

by Colleen French

  Cassie was like a child at Christmastide with her oohing and aahing as John unloaded the wagon. There were blankets and cloaks, buckled shoes and wool hats, packets of flour and sugar and all sorts of dry goods. It was meager fare when Cassie took into consideration what the entire army needed, but at least the men left in the Delaware Regiment would be clothed warmly.

  "We're short of hand, John." Cassie told him, handing a blanket to one of the soldiers. They came in a line asking only for what they desperately needed, taking only a fair portion of the food. "Why not take up arms and fight with us? Devon desperately needs able-bodied men."

  John laughed, clapping his hands together to warm them. "No. Couldn't even if I wished it." He threw up a hand good-naturedly. "I'm blind as a day-old kitten. Couldn't hit a mark on a barrel if my life depended on it." He handed Cassie a pair of woolen socks to pass to another soldier. "Some men were born with a musket in their hands. Me, I do for the cause in my own way. In the spring I'll plant my tillable ground in wheat and corn for the soldiers. They must be fed. And I do my part here. This is not the last you'll see of this wagon. I'll not have you starving, nor barefoot, as long as I'm living."

  Cassie mulled over his words as she continued to pass out the supplies. It was hard for her to understand men who believed this strongly in something, but she was beginning to comprehend.

  The men she had met here in the camp and out on the battlefield had made her understand how important their homes and families were to them. All they wanted was the freedom to be left alone to care for their loved ones and give them a better life than they'd had themselves. Devon wasn't out here for the game of it, or for the money as Paddie O'Flynn had been. Devon Marsh was here to save his ancestral home, to defend his family, to give their children a healthy world to thrive in.

  When Cassie came upon a pair of men's kidskin gloves, she stopped to finger them. They were a fine pair of gloves, hand dyed and lined with sleek ermin. She glanced up at the camp, watching men tend their fires and prepare for their patrols. Devon had no gloves. If she could get up her nerve, she would take them to him.

  "The wagon is empty and you've done enough for tonight." Anne told Cassie, taking her arm. "We're going to Colonel Haslet's tent for an evening meal of stewed rabbit and boiled carrots. Would you like to come?"

  "No, thank you." Cassie told her." but I'm tired. I think I'll turn in."

  "I have a letter here for Devon." Anne held the sealed parchment in her gloved hand. "I fear the news isn't good. Would you take it to him?"

  Cassie pulled her hood up to cut off the blasting wind. "I don't know, maybe you should take it to him. Devon and I . . ." She couldn't look her friend in the eye. "We haven't quite worked things out yet."

  "So I'm told." Anne slipped the letter into Cassie's frozen fingers. "So take him the letter and work things out."

  "Oh, you don't know what I'm up against." She stared at the letter in the dimming light of late afternoon. "The man refuses to be reasonable."

  "You take it, and I'll see you in the morning before I go." Anne gave her a quick hug and then she was gone.

  Cassie stood near the empty wagon for what seemed an eternity, staring at the scrawling on the parchment. Devon Marsh of Marshview, First Lieutenant . . . She wanted to take it to him. She wanted to share in any bad news; she wanted to comfort him. But the truth was, she didn't know that she could stand his rejection again. He had been so cold to her that it made her heart ache just to be near him.

  C'mon Cassie, her inner voice urged. Have a little spine, for God's sake. He's your husband! So, slowly she wandered through the camp in the direction of Devon's tent. She didn't know what she would say to him. Words always seemed to be so strained between them, but she knew Anne was right. She had to go to him.

  She heard Devon's low voice before she spotted him, and she stopped to watch him through the crowd of milling soldiers. She thought back to the first time she'd met him in the tavern and a smile came to her lips. Breathtakingly handsome he'd been in his fancy coat and breeches with that devil-may-care grin of his. Where had that grin gone? Had the redcoats robbed him of that boyish innocence . . . or had she?

  "Devon." Cassie called quietly, before she lost her nerve. "I have something here for you, a letter from home." Soldiers stepped aside, tipping their hats as she passed. Alone among them she was just another soldier, but near Devon she was an officer's wife and was given the necessary respect.

  "A letter?" Devon's breath clouded in the cold air. "Let me see." He held out his hand, but Cassie evaded it, not wanting to relinquish the letter. Once she gave it to him, she'd be dismissed. He would go to his tent and read it alone by the light of a rusted lantern.

  "Might I speak to you . . . alone." She hoped her voice didn't waver as she spoke, clutching the letter to her breast.

  Devon hesitated, as if he was afraid to be alone with her, then extended an arm to invite her into his tent. "Davis and Lauren both left so I've got some room to myself." He followed behind her, feeling much like a smitten schoolboy.

  When Devon dropped the flap to the tent, closing out the sounds of the evening camp, Cassie turned to him slowly. She didn't know what she was going to say to him, what excuse she would give. She just wanted to be near him, just for a few moments. "Here 'tis, the letter." She held it out to him.

  Devon's fingers brushed lightly against hers as the letter exchanged hands and Cassie looked up at him. For a moment their eyes met and the same spark of energy that had passed through their fingertips leaped the gulf between them. He had felt it the same as she— Cassie was sure of it.

  "The news is not good, Anne says." Cassie barely recognized her own voice. "I've something else for you." From beneath her hooded cloak she pulled out the kidskin gloves and held them out to him. "I knew you had no gloves . . ." She shrugged as her voice faded until it was nothing.

  Devon fought against the tightening in his chest and throat as he reached for the peace offering. "Thank you." he murmured. "You have none either." His fingers caressed the soft leather.

  "I have. I've got mittens I sewed from a piece of blanket." She turned her head slightly and her hood fell.

  In a dream state Devon reached to catch one fiery curl and twist it around his finger. Slowly, he raised it to his lips, and Cassie trembled under his gaze.

  As if beneath some ancient spell, Cassie felt her arms rising to curl around his massive shoulders. Her head tipped back as he lowered his lips to brush over hers.

  It was barely a kiss, but the contact between them was enough to make Cassie's pulse quicken. She felt the color rise in her cheeks as she stood on tiptoe to meet his lips again, this time with more urgency. Again and again their lips brushed, until he threaded his hands through her hair and pressed his mouth to hers. The gloves and the letter drifted to the floor, forgotten, as she parted her lips to taste of him.

  Cassie's breath came faster as he delved between the folds of her heavy cloak to cup a breast with his hand. His warm fingers burned against her flesh as she strained against him, running the tip of her tongue over his lower lip. He tasted; of whiskey and smoke, but mostly he tasted of familiarity.

  A soft moan escaped her lips as he tugged the cloak from her shoulders and let it fall. The cold air hit her and she shivered, pressing her body against his for warmth.

  "Ah, Cassie, girl." he groaned, lifting his mouth from hers. "You torture me. I think of nothing but you night and day." He hugged her against him and she rested her cheek on the harsh wool of his coat "What am I to do with you?"

  She lifted her head. "For tonight, just love me, Devon. It's all I ask of ye. . . just love me."

  He crushed her fiercely against the wide expanse of his chest as he struggled within himself. God, he wanted her, but he'd vowed he wouldn't have her, not on her conditions.

  "Please." Cassie begged softly. "I need you, just for tonight. In the morning I'll go back to my wagon, I'll leave ye in peace. Just hold me for tonight, pretend ye still love me."<
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  Devon tipped back her head, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. "Cas, it's not that I don't love you, but I'm a man of principle. Don't you see? You're my wife . . ."

  "So pretend I'm not your wife for tonight." she murmured, reaching behind his head to untie the ribbon that bound his hair.

  Cassie's haunting green eyes settled on his and he felt his resolution slipping. His eyes drifted shut as she wove her fingers through his ebony hair, guiding his mouth to hers. "Just tonight, sweet . . . just for tonight . . ."

  "The light." Devon whispered against her lips. "Blow it out."

  Cassie withdrew from his arms and knelt to extinguish the lantern. Then, she was standing in front of him again, working at the pewter buttons of his uniform. As she slipped the coat from his shoulder, he tugged at her skirt, releasing it to fall in a heap on the hard ground.

  Leading Cassie to a bed of blankets, Devon eased her onto her back, lifting her linen shirt over her head. Her fingers flew as she struggled to loosen the tie of his breeches and slide them down his muscular thighs. A strange sense of urgency drove them as heavy leather boots fell to the ground and stockings sailed through the air.

  Finally, Devon eased his naked body beside hers, pulling a rough blanket over them both. Cassie's pale skin grew flushed with desire as she clung to him, feeling the heat of his hard, bulging loins against her bare leg. It had been too long since she had run her hands over the sinewy cords of his chest and shoulders, too long since she had inhaled the haunting male scent that lingered at the crook of his neck.

  Devon moaned deep in his throat as Cassie explored the length of his lean, hard body beneath the blanket. She ran her light fingers over his warm flesh, rediscovering the secret places that made him call out with wanting when she stroked him.

  "You would drive a man mad." Devon groaned. She only laughed, moving to kiss the soft flesh of his inner thigh. Her tongue darted out to taste the heat of his bare skin and he sighed with exquisite pleasure.

  Finally, he caught her by the shoulders, pulling her to him. "I see no fairness in this one-sided torture." His voice was strained and throaty. He lowered his mouth to catch the taut tip of her breast and Cassie giggled, arching her back.

  "I like the mustache." she murmured, running her hands through his silky hair. "It tickles."

  Devon suckled her breast, sending shivers of sensation through her body as his hand burned a trail of wanting along the length of her body. Cassie raked her nails over his back and lean buttocks, massaging the weary muscles of his broad shoulders.

  "Witch." he accused as he moved his hot mouth over her breasts, making a trail across her flat stomach with the tip of his tongue.

  Cassie could barely draw in a breath by the time Devon made his way to the soft triangular patch of bright curls. She arched her back in anticipation and moaned, guiding his head with her hands. She was spinning, twirling, whirling in an upward motion. Nothing existed but the two of them, nothing mattered but Devon and his splendid assault. "Please." she begged, tugging at his shoulders. "Here, be with me, where I can see you."

  Devon moved over her slowly, his eyes fixed on hers as he eased between her parted thighs. Cassie bit down on her lower lip, closing her eyes as he entered her and then her eyelids flew open, a smile turning the corners of her lips.

  "I love you, Cassie O'Flynn." he breathed against her lips. "Remember that, no matter what."

  Cassie nodded, wrapping her legs around his as she moved beneath him. "No matter what." she answered. "I love you."

  Devon picked up the motion she had begun and together they moved as one, higher and higher into a heaven only they could create. Spiraling upward, they moved faster to a rhythm within, until finally the heavens shattered into a million. shards of splintering light.

  Cassie drifted slowly back to earth until she heard the sound of soldiers again. Her eyes flickered open to find Devon staring down on her. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever known." he whispered, kissing her love-bruised lips.

  She smiled, reaching up to brush the dark hair that had fallen over his forehead. "That was fun, might we do it again?"

  He bit the end of her nose and she giggled, struggling beneath him. "Hey, watch it." he scolded playfully. "It's cold in here and I'm hanging out of this blanket!"

  Cassie laughed, swinging the blanket over his naked buttocks. "Better?" she asked, running a finger over his mustache.

  "Better." he answered as he lowered his mouth to hers. "Now what was it you said about doing that again?"

  Cassie squealed and threw the blanket up over their heads to ward off the cold air and the sound of soldiers.

  Chapter Twenty

  Devon held Cassie cradled in his arms, the letter from his father crumpled in one hand. He leaned to kiss her cheek. Asleep she appeared so feminine, so vulnerable. Curled beneath his blanket like this, her hands folded between her breasts, she seemed to need him. But once she was awake and stomping about giving orders and cursing like a stablehand, he knew she would no longer look to him for protection. She wouldn't need him; she wouldn't need anyone.

  Cassie stirred beneath Devon's gaze and her eyelashes fluttered. "Devon." she murmured sleepily.

  "Who else?" he asked softly.

  She opened her eyes to stare up at him, pressing her body closer to his. "Warmest night I've spent in weeks. How about you?"

  "Uh-huh." He propped himself on one elbow, pulling a second blanket over her bare shoulders. "Most entertaining, too."

  Cassie's cheeks pinkened. "Good together, aren't we?"

  "Yes, that's the one thing we must agree on." He toyed with a lock of orange-red hair.

  "The letter." Her eyes fell to the crumpled parchment he held. "I'm sorry, I'd forgotten. Anne said there was bad news. What's wrong? Marshview?" Genuine concern showed in her eyes. In the weeks that had passed on the battlefield, she had come to understand the love these men held for their land. She knew what Marshview meant to Devon.

  "No." He shook his head, scowling. "It's my sister, Mary. She's gone."

  "Gone?" Cassie's forehead creased in disbelief. "What do you mean, gone?"

  Devon slipped from beneath the warm blankets, shrugging. "She's gone. Disappeared. Her husband and the children came home from visiting his ill mother to find her gone." He reached for his stockings and breeches, pulling them on quickly.

  Cassie watched Devon slip the breeches over his lean thighs. "How can she be gone? What could have happened to her?"

  "Kidnapped . . . hell, I don't know. It doesn't make sense. Nothing in the house had been disturbed. Not a piece of silver, not a jewel in her box."

  "Could she have just gone . . . left?" Cassie dared.

  "Of course not. Mary would never leave her family, her children. Something has happened to her." He pulled his linen shirt over his head. "None of her clothes are missing except for what she had on . . .and a cloak and muff." He paused. "A cloak and muff." he murmured beneath his breath.

  "A muff and cloak? What kidnappers would give a lady time to get her cloak and muff? There hasn't been a ransom note, has there?" When he said nothing, she gave a nod. "Skipped off, I'd say."

  Devon scowled. The thought was too absurd to consider. Mary run away? How? Where would she go? "You don't know her like I do. Something's happened."

  Cassie said nothing, moving to get out of bed. You can't tell someone something they don't want to hear; that was what Paddie O'Flynn always said.

  "Stay there." Devon said, changing the subject. "I'll get us something to eat. You go back to sleep." He sat down on the corner of her blanket on the ground, pulling on his high leather boots. "All right?" He smiled.

  "All right. But might I have a kiss?" She puckered her lips comically.

  "You might." He kissed her mouth and tucked the blanket tightly around her shoulders. "Now go back to sleep and I'll see you later. It's still early." Giving her blanket a pat, he got to his feet and shrugged on his cloak. With a wink, he was gone.

&n
bsp; Cassie snuggled deeper into the blankets, her eves drifting shut. She didn't care that she slept on the ground in a tent or that it was near freezing outside. All that mattered was that she slept in Devon's bed. Pulling the blanket over her head, she curled into a ball. Devon's masculine scent clung to the heavy wool, enveloping her and lulling her into peaceful sleep.

  Cassie's breath came faster as she struggled to come fully awake. Her eyes flew open and her nightmare faded in the distance.

  "Cassie, what is it?" Devon turned from the canvas stool he sat on at a makeshift desk. "You all right?"

  "Yes." she breathed, swallowing hard. "I'm all right. Where's Mordecai?" She got to her feet, dragging a blanket with her.

  "Mordecai?" Devon's eyes darkened dangerously. "What do you want with him?"

  "He hasn't gone, has he?" She dropped the blanket, pulling her discarded linen shirt over her head.

  "Gone where?" Devon got to his feet.

  "The patrol, across the river." Cassie rolled up her stockings and stepped into her wrinkled linsey-woolsey skirt. She was in a near frenzy by now.

  "You're not supposed to know about that! No one is!" Devon grabbed her. "Cassie, what's wrong?"

  "Dream . . . ambush. He'll be killed!" She stumbled, tugging on a boot.

  Devon exhaled slowly. "You dreamed his patrol was ambushed?"

  She nodded, grabbing for her cloak. "Near McKonkey's Ferry. I've got to stop him."

  Devon stood for a moment in indecision. He was skeptical of this ability she said she had. Still, it didn't make sense. How could she have known Mordecai was running a patrol across the Delaware? The decision had been made while she was still asleep. "Come on!" Devon grabbed his cloak, leading her out of the tent.

  Devon moved slowly through the thicket of bramble, keeping his head low. Turning, he gave Mordecai a nod and bore right, skirting a clearing.

  Devon had convinced Mordecai to cancel his patrol, though he had felt foolish explaining to his friend that Cassie had these dreams that she said came true. Once Cassie's fears had been calmed, the two men set out without her knowledge to see if what she had said was true. Her descriptions had been sketchy, but she had insisted there would be a clearing not far from the ferry. Here in the clearing, she said, a party of the Queen's Light Dragoons would march through.