by Kris Tualla
“I must tell you, Kirsten, you are quite the heroine of the day,” he said as he laid his napkin in his lap. “The major’s eyes got bigger and bigger with each armload of clothes I carried in. I was actually afraid they might fall out of his head.”
Pleasure at his words suffused her core. “And I must tell you, Reid, that I enjoy this project very much.”
“So you will continue?” he asked.
“Oh yes!” she exclaimed. “And I’ll continue to raise funds as well.”
Reid touched his bladed hand to his forehead. “I salute you for your work. You have no true understanding of the impact you will have.”
Kirsten knew she was blushing; Reid always seemed to bring out that response in her. “I have to be honest—for the first time since returning home from Norway I feel like I have purpose. I feel like I truly do have value as a person.”
The wine steward returned with their wine and offered both bottles.
“We’ll begin with the white,” Reid instructed before Kirsten could speak up. He shifted his gaze to her. “I have a feeling we’ll see cheese or fish before any beef or lamb. Do you agree?”
“Yes,” she replied happily. “You are probably correct.”
They waited in silence while the wine was poured, then Reid lifted his glass. “To you, Kirsten Sven. And to your valuable purposes.”
She grinned broadly, unable not to. She touched her glass to his and added, “And to the soldier who opened my eyes while his were still closed.”
Reid made an appreciative face. “Excellent analogy. I am quite impressed.”
“Oh, drink your wine,” she giggled.
Reid swirled his glass, held it to the light, and sniffed its contents before he deigned to let the golden liquid pass his lips. His expression had grown pensive. The man clearly had something of a serious nature on his mind.
“I like it. Do you?” Kirsten asked, hoping to lift his mood.
He nodded as he stared at the crystal goblet. “Yes. I do as well.”
She set her glass on the table. It made a soft thud on the finely woven white cloth. “What sour subject has suddenly grabbed your thoughts?” she pressed.
His gray eyes lifted to meet hers and his features radiated kindness. “What happened to you?”
Shock skated up her spine and narrowed her vision. Lightning flashes of violence and pain threatened to swamp her.
“Nothing.”
She lifted her wine glass, pressed hard between fingers gone white, and took a long, slow sip. How did he know? No one knew. She needed a moment to pound her memories back down into place, hidden away where they belonged.
“I wish I could say the same,” he said.
“What?” Her eyes jumped back to his.
Reid sipped his wine as well before he answered her.
“I have seen way too much death.” He spun his goblet on the tabletop, rolling the stem between his thumb and forefinger.
“Oh,” she whispered.
He stared at the glittering cut glass. The liquid inside swirled intoxicatingly. “In the last eight and a half years I have slept far more nights on the hard ground than in any bed. I have eaten game half raw because it wasn’t safe to keep a fire burning. I have spent a week smelling like my companions’ blood.”
“Reid…” she murmured and laid a hand over his.
His voice was low. “I have shot countless men. If they were lucky, I killed them cleanly.”
“Stop,” she said.
He looked at her. “No. You need to hear this.”
She shook her head. “I don’t.”
Reid laid his other hand over hers, holding her securely in place and covered in warmth. “I’m going to be thirty-two next month. I have no money. I have no home to call my own. I have nothing.”
“No! You have your intellect. And your education,” she objected.
He exhaled. “Don’t you understand that every single one of my youthful aspirations has been beaten to a bloody pulp and left for dead in some distant frozen field?”
Kirsten’s throat thickened. Tears prickled her eyelids. “I’m so sorry, Reid. I can’t imagine all that you have lived through.”
The arrival of their soup interrupted the dismal exchange.
“No, I’m the one who is sorry, Kirsten,” he offered. “This isn’t the most desirable of dinner conversations.”
She lifted her soupspoon and gazed into his dark blue-gray eyes. “Let’s discuss something else, shall we?”
He gave her a resolute smile. “Yes. Let’s do.”
“Can you talk about the trial?” she asked before spooning the creamy yellow liquid into her mouth. “Oh—this is delicious!”
“I agree. Is that curry?” he asked, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
She reached for her wine to counteract the spice. “I believe so.”
“Yes, I can talk about parts of the trial,” he gave a delayed answer to her question. He chuckled. “Would you believe I was asked if I am a spy?”
Kirsten blinked. “Are you?”
He shook his head. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told them: if I was, I would deny it. And I’m not, so I will deny it.”
“So you are,” she said. “How fascinating.”
Reid gave her an incredulous look. “You, Prinsesse, are fascinating,” he countered. “It will require the rest of my life to figure out how you think.”
She wagged her finger at him. “Stop courting me.”
Reid grinned. “I make no promises. Finish your soup, now.”
The rest of the meal passed in good-humored conversation. It seemed that no matter what subject Kirsten tossed out, Reid had something to say about it. They talked until their server pointed out that the clock had struck eleven and they were the only people left in the room.
Reid pulled out her chair and helped her with her wrap. He rested his hand in the small of her back and escorted her to her waiting carriage.
“Where is your hotel?” she asked.
He waved a hand. “It’s not far. I’ll walk.”
“Don’t be so stubborn,” she chastised. “I know your leg gives you trouble and it’s very cold out tonight.”
Reid stepped close. He lowered his face and tipped hers up to meet it. He stared into her eyes. Kirsten’s lips parted. He was going to kiss her. She was not going to object.
“Not tonight,” he whispered. “I’ll be fine to walk.”
He turned to go. Her breath left her in a whoosh of unexpected disappointment.
“You cannot give up, Reid,” she called after him. “You have the rest of your life ahead of you.”
He turned and pinned her with his gaze. Even in the dim light their steely gray held her without mercy.
“So do you, Prinsesse. Goodnight.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
February 19, 1782
Kirsten hadn’t heard from Reid for three excruciating days. One week of the three she expected to spend with him was gone and she felt as if time was melting away as irrevocably as the last Pennsylvania snowstorm. She didn’t understand her sense of urgency and she didn’t intend to try. Furthermore, she staunchly refused to think about Reid’s parting words and what they might mean.
But she wanted the kiss.
Just because there was no future between her and Reid didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a few kisses with the man. Kisses were sweet. Romantic. A reminder of her own youthful aspirations. She imagined that Reid’s kisses would be thoroughly agreeable and she hoped for the chance to find out.
Her impatience was relieved by a note that was delivered right after breakfast.
K ~
My contact arrived last night. Please come to the Heinrich Hotel at your earliest convenience and we will arrange for the disbursement of the funds you have raised.
With grateful affection,
R
Kristen’s heart leapt quite unhelpfully when she read the casual declaration of Reid’s feelings. She realized with a jolt that she needed to trea
d carefully—or she might well end up being the one who was hurt.
She rang for the carriage and went to tell her mother where she was headed. She found Marit in the solarium.
“I’m going to meet with Colonel Hansen regarding the funds I have raised, Mamma,” she said. “His contact has arrived and I imagine we’ll be going to the bank.”
Her mother looked up from her book. “Do you expect to be gone long?”
Kirsten nodded, secretly hoping to spend the afternoon with Reid. “I have some other things I’d like to do while I’m out. I might not be back until evening.”
Her mother cocked a brow. “Supper?”
Kirsten made an abrupt decision. “Don’t wait for me. If I’m not here by six, go ahead without me.”
“Be careful, Datter,” she warned and turned back to her book.
Kirsten checked her appearance in a mirror before retrieving her fur-lined cloak and calfskin gloves. She went out the front door and climbed into her waiting carriage.
The ride to the Heinrich Hotel was only a mile-and-a-half long and was accomplished in a mere ten minutes, even with streets full of carriages. Kirsten told her man to wait, assuming she would need to provide transportation for the Colonel and his mysterious contact. The bank was a good two miles further and, despite his declamations to the contrary, Kirsten didn’t believe Reid would want to walk so far.
“The cold has to stiffen his leg,” she muttered. “Stubborn Norseman.”
Inside the hotel she asked the clerk to let Colonel Hansen know that she had arrived, and took a seat in the small lobby to wait for him. She didn’t have to wait long.
“Miss Sven!” Reid’s voice filled the lobby. He beamed at her as he approached. “Your prompt response is quite impressive.”
Kirsten glanced at the very attractive man following Reid and of a sudden didn’t wish to sound overly eager. “I had already made plans to come this way. Your message, Colonel, was a happy coincidence.”
Reid held out a hand toward his dark-haired companion. “May I present Major Thomas Campbell, adjunct to General Washington? Major, this is Miss Kirsten Sven, the woman I told you about.”
The major gave Kirsten a formal bow.
“Miss Sven? How is it that a woman as lovely as yourself has not yet been drawn to the altar?” he asked with a smile which guaranteed to melt any woman’s resolve.
Almost any woman.
“Unfortunately, there seems to have been some sort of war, Major,” Kirsten gave her standard answer to the query she heard countless times. “All the best men have run off to fight in it.”
Campbell’s laugh was rich and smooth. Kirsten didn’t imagine many women turned him down for anything.
“I shall let my wife know,” he quipped, grinning. “She doesn’t always see beyond my abundant faults.”
That was surprising. “You are married, Major?”
“Sixteen years,” he replied. “And five children.”
“Congratulations,” Kirsten complimented.
The major made a dismissive gesture. “I believe the congratulations are yours, Miss Sven. Colonel Hansen has told me a bit about the work you have done. I’m quite impressed.”
“Shall we discuss it along the way?” Reid suggested.
“My carriage is outside,” Kirsten said. “It’s too far to walk.”
“May I?” Major Campbell offered his arm.
Kirsten smiled and glanced at Reid. He seemed a little put out. She hooked her hand through Campbell’s elbow. “Of course, Major.”
Kirsten took her accustomed seat in the carriage and waited to see how the two men would sort themselves. Reid deferred to his superior officer, who entered first and sat facing Kirsten. She wondered if Reid would sit beside her, thus displaying their friendship, or take the seat opposite her and set the tone as strictly business.
Business won out. Kirsten was neither surprised nor disappointed; gazing at the two uniformed officers across from her, she figured she had the most beautiful view in the city.
“Tell me, Miss Sven, how you came about raising these funds?” Major Campbell asked once the carriage was in motion.
“I became aware of the need after Captain—I’m sorry—Colonel Hansen was injured,” she began. “He explained that he hadn’t received any pay for the past couple of years, so when he needed to replace his destroyed uniform and supplies he had no way to pay for them.”
Major Campbell’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I see.”
“As I thought more about it, I realized that the families of soldiers who were injured or killed were in a very bad state if their provider wasn’t receiving the monies owed.” Kirsten shrugged. “Someone needed to do something. So I took it on.”
“Miss Sven also began two groups who sew clothing for soldiers,” Reid injected. “Major McIntyre has taken charge of their disbursement.”
Major Campbell’s countenance eased. “You have been busy.”
“Yes, sir,” Kirsten admitted.
“And the fund-raising?” he prompted.
“Charity balls and auctions,” she replied. “People love to be entertained. And they love to feel as if they have done good in the process.”
“How much have you raised?” Campbell asked.
Kirsten’s brows pulled together. “There should be some interest accrued, so we’ll learn the actual total at the bank. But at last count the amount exceeded five thousand dollars.”
The major whistled his surprise. “That’s quite impressive, Miss Sven.”
“Thank you, sir.” Kirsten slid her glance to Reid. He grinned his pleasure at her, his eyes looking a bit bluer than gray at the moment.
The carriage slowed to a stop.
Reid climbed out first and helped her down. She took his arm before he offered it and smiled up at him. He winked at her and waited for Major Campbell to join them. The trio entered the bank.
Reid sat quietly as Kirsten and Major Campbell signed papers giving the major equal access to her special account. The plan, as discussed with the banker, was for Kirsten to continue to add funds as they were raised, and for Campbell to withdraw them as needed.
“Do you want to set limits on the amounts withdrawn? Or who receives the monies?” the banker asked the pair.
Kirsten looked to Reid for confirmation. “If Major Campbell has earned General Washington’s trust, I believe he deserves mine.”
Reid nodded his agreement. “I wouldn’t have asked him otherwise.”
“I assure you, Miss Sven, all of the money will go to toward your expressed purpose. You have my word,” Major Campbell promised.
Kirsten returned her regard to the banker. “No limits. No conditions.”
Another half hour dragged by with more documents written and signed. A clock chimed half-past eleven.
“May I suggest luncheon?” Reid said as the last paper was complete. “I’m rather faint with hunger.”
“You’re always hungry,” Kirsten teased without thinking.
Reid cringed.
Major Campbell’s brows lifted. “You and the Colonel are well acquainted, then?”
“He lived in my home for three weeks during his recovery,” Kirsten hastened to explain. “I noticed his healthy appetite back then.”
“Ah.” Major Campbell did not appear entirely convinced.
She jumped to her feet, causing the three men in attendance to scramble to theirs. “Shall we?”
*****
Reid kept an eye on the clock. Kirsten noticed.
“Do you have other business pressing?” she asked. Reid thought he detected an encouraging note of disappointment.
“I have to testify at half-past two,” he explained.
Kirsten and Campbell both looked at the clock, which had chimed half-past one ten minutes earlier.
“We should leave.” Kirsten turned her attention to Campbell. “Where might I drop you off, Major?”
“I’ll attend the trial for a bit,” he said. “You can leave us bot
h at the hall.”
“I’m happy to.”
She didn’t appear in the least bit happy to, making Reid certain of her disappointment. He was disappointed as well. Somehow he must find a way to ask her to please wait in the city and have supper with him later. Alone.
The little group settled their bill with Major Campbell refusing to let Kirsten pay any part of it. Reid sat silent, his strapped financial situation already well known by both of his companions. That didn’t help his somber mood, his thoughts already on his coming testimony. The man he knew only as one-o-seven had given him a very important document—which was tucked inside his jacket since the moment he received it.
Today, he would place that document and further information at the feet of the court. What they did with it was up to them; his part of the trial should be finished.
“Colonel?”
Reid’s attention wrenched back to Campbell, who was already on his feet. “Yes, sir.”
The major flashed a crooked grin. “Are you coming?”
Reid stood slowly, stretching his right leg. “Yes, sir.”
Seating in the carriage mimicked their first ride, though this time conversation was lacking. Each of the three seemed to have something private occupying their thoughts. The major watched the passing city view. Every time Reid looked at Kirsten, her eyes were on the floor. He patted his jacket and felt the reassuring stiffness of the parchment.
The carriage stopped. Reid descended first. Major Campbell said something apparently polite to Kirsten in a warm tone that masked his words before he exited the coach and closed the door. Reid took three steps toward the hall alongside Major Campbell, then stopped.
“Go ahead. I forgot something.”
He spun and loped back toward the carriage which was rolling away. The driver reined in the horses when Reid barked, “Hold!”
He flung the door open.
Kirsten was on the edge of her seat, her eyes wide. “What’s amiss?”
“Stay. Have supper with me.”
Her mouth curved. “Yes.”
He nodded, closed the door, and pounded permission for the driver to continue on his way.
Reid strode back toward the visibly bemused major. “Let’s go.”