The boy stopped blowing and inched back on the branch to hide in the live oak’s winter foliage.
“I don’t know how to convince you to come down, and I don’t want to climb up after you.” Rick scratched the side of his head. “So…are you hungry? We have lots of hot food. I bet you haven’t eaten since last night’s dinner.”
“I ate dinner not so long ago,” the boy said.
“Maybe so, but a lad needs lots of food to be as brave as you are. I’ve got nephews about your age, and they’re always hungry.”
The boy’s expression sharpened, a hungry kid scenting a hot meal.
Okay. Enough is enough.
Penny dismounted and stood next to Rick. In a sharp tone, she said, “Young man, I’m going to give you a direct order. Get your ass down here right now! If you don’t, one of our marksmen will shoot you out of this tree.”
His breath hitched. “Don’t shoot, ma’am. I’ll come right down.”
Rick held up his arms to catch him if he fell, but he slung his bugle strap over his shoulder and clambered down the tree as quickly as he would have a ship’s mast. When his feet touched the ground, Penny came to attention.
“Captain Penny Lafitte. Aide-de-camp to General Andrew Jackson at your service, sir.”
The boy knuckled his forehead. “Subaltern James Churchill, 4th Regiment of Foot, King’s Own, sir—I mean ma’am. And pardon me, ma’am, but you have blue hair.”
“And you have blond hair, but I won’t hold that against you.”
The boy eyed her before turning his gaze to Rick, who quickly came to attention. “Platoon Sergeant in the ‘Highlanders’ 2nd Platoon, Bravo Company, 1st Light Armored Recognizance Battalion, 1st Marine Division.”
“The Americans have Highlanders too?” Churchill’s tousled blond hair was streaked with mud, and he had a gash on his chin and cuts on both hands.
“My family’s from Ireland, but there are a few Scotsmen on our side,” Rick said.
Penny swung up into her saddle and held out her hand. “So, how old are you, Mr. Churchill?”
“Fourteen.”
“Well, come along then, and we’ll find you some food. Rick, give him a leg up, please.” The boy settled in behind her. “Churchill?” Penny asked. “Where have I heard that name?”
“I’m a distant cousin of John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough.”
“Marlborough? That’s impressive. I think Princess Diana’s great-grandfather was the 5th Duke of Marlborough.”
“Who’s she?”
Penny smiled at Rick, then looked over her shoulder at Churchill and smiled at him too. “Oh, she was a beautiful lady and a wonderful mom. She’s gone now.” Penny quickly changed the subject. “You sure were brave to be up in that tree and daring to play ‘Setting the Watch.’ It had to be scary.”
Churchill’s arms tightened around her waist. “I wasn’t scared. I was doing my duty.”
Penny grimaced. She’d been worried about Soph seeing the battlefield, but this kid had seen everything from a different perspective. Without therapy, how would he ever be able to lead a normal life?
Normal? Who was she kidding? He was stuck on the wrong side of the Atlantic, far from his family. Would anybody take him home to raise?
When Penny and Rick made it back across the canal, Soph and Pete were waiting for them.
“Why don’t you let us take him?” Pete asked.
“He’s hungry,” Penny said.
“I’m sure he is.” Soph smiled at Churchill. “I’m Sophia, and my husband’s name is Pete. The soldiers over there have jambalaya waiting for you.”
Churchill’s stomach growled. “Are you sure they have enough?” Then he lowered his eyes. “I’m not that hungry.”
Penny’s heart cracked, and she fell in love with Churchill right then, right there.
“Well, they offered us some, so they must have plenty to share,” Soph said. “Come on. We’ll have your injuries looked at too.”
“Oh, they’re nothing, ma’am,” he said, hiding his hands. “The doctors are busy with the wounded. They need the care more’n me, and I don’t want to be a nuisance.” Churchill hopped off the back of Penny’s horse, clutching his bugle, and straightened his uniform before saluting. “Subaltern James Churchill, 4th Regiment of Foot, King’s Own, at your service.”
Pete stepped forward, his straight face shifting to astonishment. “An officer? Well…well. You’re in luck. The Americans aren’t taking British officers under the age of”—Pete cocked his head and studied Churchill—“fifteen prisoners today.”
“So I’m free to go?”
“Well, not exactly,” Soph said. “You’re free on this side of the truce line. But if you try to return, then you might be shot.”
He scratched his chin, scrunching his face. “If I stay on this side of the truce line, I won’t go to jail, but if I try to return, I’ll get shot?”
“That’s about it,” Pete said.
Relief must have seeped in around the edges of Churchill’s tense body because he seemed to deflate. “I suppose I’ll stay here, then. I don’t want to get shot.”
“Good, we don’t want you shot either. Let’s get you something to eat,” Soph said. “Then you can have your wounds checked out, take a bath, and put on clean clothes.”
He jumped back and glared at Penny, his lower lip quivering. “I don’t want a bath. I’d rather get shot, Captain Lafitte.”
Penny did her best not to laugh. “Trust me, Subaltern Churchill. I’ve been shot and I’ve had lots of baths. Water and soap don’t hurt, but a gunshot wound is awful. And besides, an officer must always look his best so his men will respect him. I’m sure Madamoiselle Orsini will want to paint your portrait, and you’ll need to look respectable when you sit for her.”
Churchill hesitated just a moment before agreeing, “Yes, ma’am. But does it have to be today?”
Penny refrained from rolling her eyes. “Churchill, if you put off something you dread, your anxiety will become downright nerve-wracking. It’s best to jump in and get it over with.”
“Captain Lafitte is right, lad,” Rick said. “Eat your lunch, and then the Parrinos will take you to New Orleans.”
Churchill’s blue eyes, warm and alive in their excitement, shuttled around to Soph. “New Orleans? You’re taking me to New Orleans?”
Soph laughed. “Would you like that?”
A barely suppressed glow brightened his face. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll go talk to the general,” Pete said. “I don’t know what the process is, but we’ll work it out.”
“I don’t either. But if prisoners swear allegiance to America, they’ll probably be freed at a later date.” Penny smiled at Churchill. “Go eat. The next time I see you, you’ll be a handsome young man wearing new clothes.” Then to Soph, she said, “We’ll see you at the Fontenots’ for dinner.”
Penny watched Pete and Soph take Churchill over to the campfire where a soldier handed him a plate piled high with food. Soph sat beside him on a log and used water from a canteen to wash the cuts on his hands.
What the hell was going on with Pete and Sophia?
Penny kneed her horse and turned him in the direction of the swamp. She glanced over at Rick. “Am I missing something here?”
“Like what?”
“Like…why are Pete and Soph taking such an interest in Churchill?”
Rick shrugged. “They’re good parents. They love kids. They see Churchill as a child in need. They want to help him.”
“It’s the first time I’ve seen Soph without her sketchbook. A cute kid like Churchill, you’d think she’d be on her second or third sketch already.”
“I’ll ask Pete later.”
“We need to do something for him. Find a home and set up an educational fund or trust fund. Jean gave me some jewels I can sell and fund the trust.”
“You don’t have to do that. We have plenty of money with us. Don’t sell your jewelry.”
“B
ut I want to contribute to the fund.”
“Don’t do anything yet. We’ll figure it out later when we have time. And we’ll have to find someone who won’t cheat Churchill. How about Lafitte? Do you think he’d help?”
“Jean would take him, but that would mean he’d spend his life at sea. Churchill needs a profession that won’t get him killed. I’ll talk to Mr. Livingston. He’s a lawyer, and he’ll have some ideas.”
Lots of thoughts were running through her brain as they trotted down the line. When all was said and done, the battle would prove to be a disaster for the British, but for America, the win was much more significant. Jackson’s military instincts, planning, and leadership preserved the mouth of the Mississippi for the nation, and America prevailed in the most critical fight of its young life. And Penny was a part of it.
Rick would say, “Oorah!”
Since the Rangers didn’t have a yell, all she could shout was, “Hell, yeah!
Rick reached over, took her hand, and squeezed it. “I know it’s been a hell of a ride, but you are an extraordinary woman, and I’m glad I shared this experience with you. We’ll work things out for Churchill, or we’ll take him home with us.”
“You can’t do that.”
“He won’t be the first kid to go live in the future. Emily Duffy was a teenager when she came forward from 1881 Napa. Isabella Ricci was seventeen when she came forward from 1909 New York City along with twelve-year-old Patrick Wilson, now Mallory. And Noah Grant was ten when he came forward from 1878 Colorado.”
“No kidding? How are they doing now? I bet it took a while to adjust.”
“They all acclimated easily and quickly. Isabella is finishing her residency in pediatrics. Emily just started a residency in internal medicine. Patrick is a senior at Georgetown University and intends to join the Marines, and Noah is planning to attend the University of Colorado and study paleontology and paleobiology.”
“Wow! They’re a bunch of overachievers.”
“Those are just the kids from the past. The rest are overachievers too, but their interests vary. One of my brother Jeff’s kids, Susan, is now teaching at the clan’s private school at Mallory Plantation outside of Richmond.”
“Doesn’t your nephew play for the Cavaliers?”
“Yep. We go to as many games as we can.”
“After the past few days, that all seems like light-years away.”
Rick laughed. “It is.”
For a reason she couldn’t explain, she wanted him to kiss her more than she wanted to breathe. She reined in her horse and dismounted under the shade of an oak tree, away from prying eyes, and so did he.
“Is this a piss call?”
“Nope, I want another kiss. The one you gave me—”
Before she could finish, he hauled her into his arms, and his steely embrace locked her in the moment. He threaded his fingers into her hair and tugged her head back. His kiss was full of purpose, his lips quickly parting to give her access, and hell, yeah, she took it and deepened the kiss. A low sound rose from her throat as he swept his tongue farther into her mouth to let it tangle with hers.
“This is where you belong. In my arms,” he moaned.
“I’ll never be one of your silicone ladies.”
“Dammit, Penny. I want all of you. Not just some great tits looking for a wild ride. I want more.” He spoke in a low, vibrating tone while he pressed her against the tree, rubbing his dick between them, dry-humping her, and silencing her gasps with deep-tongue kisses.
Suddenly the ogre slimed his way into her mind. His sickening grin spread across his face as he hauled his revolting dick out of his pants and stroked it. Her stomach roiled, and she shoved her hand into the middle of Rick’s chest and pushed him until he took a step back.
“Stop!” she hissed.
He took another step back, removed his hat, and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I went too far. I shouldn’t have… I know you had a rough time—”
“Rough? Where the hell do you think I was? In Hawaii, swilling umbrella drinks? I was a prisoner on Barataria and came within inches of being raped by a filthy, stinking, disgusting, hulking, vile monster while others stood outside the door, cheering him on, waiting their turn. I can’t….do this.”
She bolted over to her horse, swung her leg over his back, and sat in the saddle while she metered her breaths to a steady inhale and exhale, saying nothing for a while. Finally, she said, “Please don’t push me right now.”
Rick moved to stand next to her horse and looked up at her with his café latte-colored eyes while confusion flickered over his face, but he banked it quickly. “The kissing was okay, right? You only got freaked out when my dick rubbed up against you. I promise I won’t do it again. We’ll take this slow, like a waltz.” He grinned and reached out to touch her leather-clad leg, but dropped his hand instead. “We’ll save the sultry rumba and tango for when you tell me you’re ready.”
She cracked a smile. “You’re so different from the Rick I met three years ago.”
“I can say the same about you.”
His promising gaze held her in place as her cartwheeling stomach quit flipping upside down, and she flicked her blue hair off her neck.
He chuckled. “It’s not the hair, babe. At first, I thought it was. But now I know the truth. You could color it neon green or purple. It doesn’t matter. It’s your spirit, your courage, your compassion that turns me on. You’re amazing. When we get back to Napa, I’d like to take you out to dinner and any other place you’d like to go.”
The look in his bedroom eyes told her exactly where he wanted to take her, and her pulse flared right along with her anxiety. At least now, he knew her limits. “As you now know, I’ve got some shit to deal with first.”
He squinted as if mulling it over, and a split second later said, “God a’mighty, babe. I’m not in a hurry. Take as long as you need. I’ll even go to therapy with you, so I’ll know how I can help. But know this. I’m not going anywhere.”
She sucked in a quick breath. She couldn’t shake the feeling they’d known each other forever. Like this had all been planned. Was it possible they were cosmic soul mates?
Hell, no. They were neighbors, for god’s sake—two people attracted to each other, probably because they were in a very stressful situation.
Once they returned home, he’d go back to being a jet-setting vintner, and she’d return to her business. And Penny Lafitte would shrivel up and die in Billie Malone’s shadow while Billie was catering to senior citizens who cared more about china patterns than the food she prepared.
Hell, no! She couldn’t give Penny up. But how in the world could she incorporate her blue-haired, potty-mouth vixen into Billie’s mundane life?
51
New Orleans (1815)—Penny
While Rick traveled down the Mississippi to deliver much-needed supplies to Fort St. Philip, where Admiral Cochrane’s navy continued their bombardment, Penny spent more time with Jean, spying on the British forces still encamped at Villére Plantation.
Dressed all in black as usual, Jean sat his horse as if he’d been born in the saddle, his weight evenly distributed across the leather. Penny rode slightly behind him since there wasn’t room to ride side by side, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Odd as it seemed, they had become good friends, and she wanted to remember everything about him, even the way he looked on a horse or the silly cock of his head when he didn’t understand her.
She’d lost friends over the years through cancer, accidents, heart attacks, and in battle, but losing Jean was different. When she returned home, more than two centuries would separate them, and if that wasn’t weird, she didn’t know what was.
When the path widened, she dug her bootheels into the gelding’s sides to keep up with him as they rode past the troops still manning Rodriguez Canal.
“You’re quiet today,” he said.
“Why do you say that? Because you haven’t heard me throw out any F-bombs t
his morning? Which isn’t true. I’ve tossed out at least two since we left headquarters. You just didn’t hear me.”
“I’m not talking about your foul mouth, Wilhelmina. I’m talking about your daily musings on the weather, coffee, and O’Grady’s latest antics, or complaints about the constant noise from the ongoing bombardment of Fort St. Philip.”
“The bombing is a constant reminder that the war hasn’t officially ended, and these men have to stay out here in the damp cold and protect the canal from the British—who aren’t coming back. And by the way, I never muse about O’Grady.”
“Not audibly, but I can tell when he’s on your mind.”
His observations crawled under her skin with a sharp sting. Zap. He could read her so well, and it annoyed the hell out of her that he was so perceptive. “So now you’re a mind reader. Goody for you.”
He gave her a menacing frown, and his dark stare glinted in the daylight. Neither of which bothered her anymore. And hers didn’t bother him. They knew each other’s limits and stopped just shy of them—usually. But today, he was pushing her.
“You can be so exhausting,” he said.
“I used to be just exasperating. Now I’m wearing you out. Maybe you need one of Remy’s B-12 shots.”
When he gave her the one-eye treatment, she reined her horse to a stop close to the spot where, ten days earlier, her deep-throat kissing with Rick went south way too fast. But that didn’t stop her from reliving it, knowing the memory of their first kiss would last forever…but might be tainted by what happened next.
Jean swung down, pulled out a slim leather case from his pocket, and extracted one of the Cuban cigars he sold illegally, like everything else. For some reason, he rarely smoked around her. So why now? Did he have something on his mind? Did he need a moment of peaceful reflection while he smoked? He wouldn’t find it around her.
She swung down, looped the reins over a branch, and then paced.
He played with the cigar, sniffing and rolling it between his fingers. “Are you just going to pace, or do you intend to share what’s on your mind?”
The Topaz Brooch Page 58