Moonlit Desire

by Carolann Camillo

  “I wondered if that was lesson three? You never did say?”

  He smiled at her. “Catherine, my lovely, vibrant bride. It was lesson three, indeed.” She thought she detected just the tiniest bit of mirth in his tone.

  “I liked it.”

  “I should hope so.”

  She scored his lower lip with her thumb. “I wonder, can we do it again?”

  He took her hand and kissed the tips of each finger. “Of course we can—countless times and for the rest of our lives.”

  “No, I mean right now.”

  He kissed her ear then followed the delicate outline with his tongue. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were actually trying to kill me.”

  With the back of one finger, she traced the contour of his cheek, his jaw, the little bump that stuck out in the center of his throat. “Of course, if you can’t ...”

  He pulled her to him. Before she could go on tormenting him, he eased himself over her, entered her and silenced her with his mouth. He made love to her slowly and tenderly, as if they had been lovers forever.

  Later, when she lay contently in his arms, she remembered the wedding ring he had slipped onto her finger just days before. She had placed it inside one of the books of poetry and tied it with a blue ribbon she found in the dressing table. In order to keep them safe, she had tucked them far into the back of the center drawer. Somehow, with the commotion of leaving for the ship, she had forgotten to take them with her. Now, she was grateful for her lapse of memory.

  She told Rive, and he rose and fetched the slim volumes. Lying beside her once more, he untied the ribbon. When he opened the book, the ring dropped onto the sheet.

  He picked up the gold band and reached for Catherine’s hand. “When first I placed this ring on your finger, I was denied the right to declare my love for you.” He kissed her lightly and then slipped the ring onto her finger. “So I shall tell you again how much I love you. It is an even deeper love now than on the day we married, if such is possible.”

  She held her hand aloft and studied the golden circle. Then she touched his face, tracing its contours with the utmost tenderness.

  “I love you.” She nestled against him.

  As the morning hour grew later, he donned his breeches and went downstairs, leaving Catherine curled up in the middle of the bed, satiated and content. He returned with a tin tub and inside it a sizable stew pot brimming with water. He set the pot onto the low flame that burned in the grate.

  “Madame’s bath,” he announced. “If you will wait but a moment, I think it might be satisfactory.”

  “A bath. Oh, Rive, you are the kindest, most thoughtful husband to have arranged this.” She grinned at him. “Such an improvement over your last offering. What did you say the Indians used that barrel for again?”

  “I didn’t say, and I’d be hard pressed to know what uses this tub had been put to, either.”

  “I don’t care if they skinned a hog in it. It’s more than I ever expected.”

  After a few minutes, he tested the water with his fingers. “It should be just to my lady’s liking, neither too hot nor too cold.”

  He gripped the handle of the pot with the edge of the sheet and pulled the vessel out of the flames. Then he poured the warm water into the basin.

  “I wish I could offer you something better, but this will have to do for now. Unfortunately, I could not find even a sliver of soap.”

  She got off the bed and stepped into the tub, which proved more commodious than expected. Holding onto his hand for balance, she sat and drew her knees up beneath her chin. With her arms resting along the rim, she gazed up at Rive.

  “In future, I shall think of you as my Master of the Bath. Seeing as you have been to court, I trust you well know the procedure.”

  He bent and kissed her shoulder. “I shall consider it an honor. While you bathe, I will see if I can scrounge up something for us to eat.”

  “There are biscuits and apples in the kitchen. Hurry, please. I don’t think I’ve ever been so hungry.”

  He left the room and was gone long enough for her to accomplish a rudimentary bath and dry herself with the sheet. Then she laid it over the carpet and fetched her clothes, which had dried during the night in the armoire. She vigorously shook out her petticoat over the sheet and smoothed the folds with her hands to rid the garment of most of the caked dirt that clung to the front.

  She gave a contented sigh and returned her attention to her garments. Since she doubted the St. Clairs would ever return to regain their possessions, she commandeered one of the pillowcases, wet a generous corner of it and carefully sponged clean the rest of her gown. By the time Rive returned, she had donned her shift and petticoat and pinned the stomacher to the outside edges of her robe.

  “Ah, my Master of the Hunt. What morsel have you brought me?”

  He proffered the crock of biscuits that had fallen victim to her marauding the previous night and a handful of apples. Then he produced several carrots that had been stored in the root cellar. He placed the food on the bed.

  “But first …” He produced small scissors tucked into the waist of his breeches, selected a poetry volume and, after scanning the pages, tore one from the binding. After fingering a small lock of Catherine’s hair and snipping it with the scissors, he wrapped it in the loose page, carefully creasing each side closed until he had made a small packet. Then he bound it with a bit of ribbon he had found on the dressing table.

  “A keepsake. I must have one from you, too.” She took the scissors, cut a lock of his hair, selected a page of poetry and repeated his exercise. She tied it closed with another strand of ribbon.

  He put the keepsakes aside, and they sat together on the bed and ate ravenously, consuming the simple fare as if it had been a king’s feast. When they finished, Rive walked to the armchair in the corner nearest the window and sat down.

  “There is something we must settle.” His manner was thoroughly at odds with his former joviality.

  Catherine waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she sat stiffly with her hands clasped in her lap. He had turned entirely too serious, and for the life of her, she could not imagine what they had to settle. Her spirits sank.

  Chapter 29

  “Come here, Catherine” he said in a lighter tone, beckoning her to him. “Come over here and sit on my lap.”

  Still perplexed, she rose from the bed and went to him. He pulled her down, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They sat like that for several moments, enveloped in a silence broken only by an occasional crackle from the burning logs.

  “Sweetheart ...” He paused.

  “Yes?” She caught a lock of his hair and wound it around her finger and waited for him to make clear what was on his mind. His hesitancy began to unnerve her. Rive was not a man who took undue time to deliberate before stating his thoughts.

  It took another moment before he asked, “Do you agree there should be no secrets between a husband and wife?”

  “I do agree.” She kissed his cheek, then leaned back and looked into his eyes. She felt an escalating sense of unease. He had told her much about his life but certainly not all. “Why do you ask? Have you been keeping secrets from me?” She did not feel at all ready for a disquieting confession.

  He shook his head. “No. My life is as transparent as rainwater.”

  “Oh.” So it was not something new about his past that he wished to divulge. Puzzled, she thought a moment. “Oh?” This time she guessed the direction to which his inquiry was headed. She tried to climb off his lap, but he clasped her about the waist and held her fast.

  “Don’t run away from me. I have had about as much of that as I am willing to put up with.”

  “I was not running away. However, if I have guessed your purpose, I can answer you better if I am sitting over there.” She indicated the foot of the bed, which was not any great distance from where he sat but far enough to allow her to maintain her composure.

  Wi
th some reluctance, he released her, and she settled herself against the edge of the mattress. She clasped her hands in her lap and dropped her gaze.

  “Catherine, look at me.”

  Her gaze shifted to his. All his love was there in his eyes.

  “I must settle for myself what brought about your ... union with Flint. God knows, I can understand why any man would want you, but what I must know is how a man of such duplicity managed to accomplish it. I know you bore him no affection and yet felt obliged, nay ... obligated to accede to his wishes.”

  She did not answer at once, could not bring herself to speak of Flint. Rive deserved to know the truth and so finally she found the courage to answer him. “My father had fallen heavily into debt.” She told him everything that had occurred from the moment she met Jeremy Flint. Just saying his name was like dipping her tongue in poison. “There were to be severe consequences should he predecease my father. Also, if I showed a lack of devotion, all payments to my family would cease. ”

  Rive rose and came to her, drew her to her feet and enfolded her in his arms. “Oh, my dearest wife, it grieves me you should have fallen victim to such a devil.” He stroked her hair. “He, or his agent, would have carried out his threat of prison. I have no doubt.”

  “That was made quite clear.”

  “Were you to share further in these severe consequences?”

  “If I had borne him no children, I was to be cast out, which came as no surprise. By then it probably would have been a mercy.”

  With one hand, he continued stroking her hair; the long fingers of the other splayed across her back. He pressed her close to him. “You are safe now, and in my keeping. I give you my word that no harm will ever befall you or your parents.”

  She looked up at him with a wan smile. She would trust this man with her life.

  “I do not know when word of Flint’s death will reach London. Still, I cannot allow you to take on my family’s burden. I did not marry you for that reason.”

  “I know, and I understand your feelings. It is not easy to lose one’s pride. If such be the case with you, I will see it returned in full. I swear it. It was through my actions that the situation became dangerous. I bear responsibility and will do everything possible to make things right. I will act on behalf of your parents as if they were my own. In this, I need your agreement.”

  She laid her cheek against his chest. It took some moments, but finally she said yes.

  “The war will not last much longer.”

  “The war ... You plan to return to your regiment.” She stated it as fact, knowing he would abandon neither his cause nor the men under his command.

  “To do otherwise would be the act of a coward and a traitor. Would you want your husband to carry such a disgrace for the rest of his life?”

  She shook her head and held onto him tighter.

  “So, I must carry out my duty to France. She is a jealous mistress and every bit as demanding as a wife.”

  How she wanted him never to leave her! She could not ask it of him. What would she tell their children when they studied history: that their father shirked his duty because their mother did not wish to be left alone?

  He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Now, Madame St. Clair, we must decide what to do with you in the interim. You cannot stay here. It is too dangerous.” He thought for a moment. “You will be safe at the Ursaline convent. The good nuns will be well disposed to accommodate you. I do believe Marielle received her education there, and André has been most generous in his support over the years.”

  “The nuns? Was not it you who once said I was not meant for a convent?”

  He smiled down at her and kissed the tip of her nose. “Did you not prove me right last night and just now this morning? Think of it as only a brief respite.” He took her hands, brought them to his lips and kissed first one wrist and then the other. “My beautiful, obedient wife, I shall not send you into their care as a beggar. There are more carrots and potatoes, as well, in the root cellar, along with a dozen or so apples and a generous wedge of cheese. I will gather them into a sack, and we will bring them to the nuns as an offering.”

  She shook out her cloak, then found another ribbon to better secure her keepsake. The tiny parcel with the lock of his hair were tucked into her pocket. It might be all she had to remember him by. She slipped his keepsake into the snug waist of his breeches. Then he took the pillowcase she had stripped from the bed and together they went downstairs. He retrieved his jacket and, while she waited for him, he went into the cellar to gather up the food. He returned with the pillowcase bulging.

  He took her hand. “Are you ready, Madame St. Clair?”

  “Of course, Monsieur St. Clair. Have I not always done your bidding?”

  “Ah, a docile wife.” He had a broad grin and more than a trace of sarcasm in his tone. “Whoever could have predicted it?”

  Then, hand in hand, they left the house and set off into an uncertain future.

  Chapter 30

  Wrapped in her now dry cloak and rocking gently to the horse’s gait, a sturdy chestnut, Catherine leaned her shoulder into Rive’s chest. The commodious pillowcase, bulging with the produce he had gathered and tied with a sturdy knot, lay in her lap, wrapped securely in her arms. It would not do to spill any of the precious cargo. With food stocks low, this simple fare would be seen as a miraculous find by the good nuns. She could not guess how they replenished their food supply, or how they provided for themselves as the war continued to escalate.

  Except for the day she failed to reach the wharf and the French ship, she had seldom left the St. Clair property, and she had no idea if the city possessed an open air market. If it did, would the nuns have provisioned themselves with its goods? She knew nothing of their life behind convent walls but surmised that they could not roam about freely in public. Perhaps, somewhere on the premises, they cultivated a garden, or their needs were taken care of by local folk. How was she to fit into all of this? Would they regard her as just another mouth to feed in spite of the offering she now cradled in her arms?

  She snuggled against Rive, who held her securely. Clouds gathered beneath a weak sun that shed its light intermittently; a breeze rustled through the trees, providing the only sound in an otherwise near-silent world. At mid-morning, few people were abroad, and those who were scurried about their business with bent heads. Rarely did anyone exchange words with fellow travelers. Even Rive had fallen silent.

  “It is too quiet. I don’t know what unnerves me more, the silence or the pounding of the cannons.”

  He drew her closer. “When the cannons quit, it is usually a sign that something significant is in the works. The British cannot afford to wait before they launch an all-out attack. Autumn is drawing near.”

  Even as he spoke, she felt a gust of wind kick up and burrow under her cloak. She shivered.

  “Why must there be war? Is it something in man’s nature, so ingrained he cannot stand away from it?”

  “I like to think most men are possessed of a good and kind nature. As to why wars are fought, there are many reasons and none of them good. Mostly they’re about power and conquest. Unfortunately, it is the ordinary men who fight in them and gain the least.”

  “If you feel that way, why do you take part in this one?”

  He let some seconds pass. “It is what I was trained to do. However, there is another side to the issue, and that is a man’s desire to protect and serve the country he loves. It is what makes a good soldier. Along the way, I have discovered that not every soldier is eager for war.”

  She heard the weariness in his tone. “You are not eager for it.” She felt confident she had guessed correctly.

  “No, I am not. Still, I have pledged to protect this colony, and I will do it. But afterwards ...” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I have a wife now and must endeavor to keep her coddled and in comfort.”

  “I care little for comfort.” She touched his cheek. “Just return safely to me.”


  “I desire nothing else. You will always be in my thoughts.”

  As the convent came into sight, Rive reined in the horse, and they sat quietly for a minute. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he encircled her in both his arms. Then he spurred the horse on, although neither seemed eager to arrive at their destination.

  When they reached the convent, he dismounted and relieved Catherine of the sack of food. Then he lifted her down from the horse. While there was still time, he kissed her with fervor, and she wondered if, perhaps, he had changed his mind about rejoining his regiment. She wound her arms about his neck and would have kept them there forever, had he not reached up and disengaged her hands before stepping back.

  “It is time I left you in the nuns’ care.” A wan smile creased his face, and he picked up the sack. He took her hand, and they walked up the path that led to the convent.

  The large stone building, although simple in design, was impressive. Three stories high, with rows of windows sheathed from within by heavy dark drapes, it appeared to have escaped any of the destruction. Not so the surrounding lawn, which must once have been lush and green. Now huge patches had dried to a withered brown. Only a half-dozen trees, some as tall as the convent, appeared healthy.

  Rive rapped several times on the stout wooden door, and they waited in silence for someone to answer the summons. After a short while, a small door situated at eye level opened from inside. Through a metal grate, Catherine saw a woman who appeared not much older than herself. Stiff white fabric covered her forehead and framed the sides of her face, revealing little of her countenance. A dark veil draped her head and shoulders.

  I am Captain Rive St. Clair and this is my wife, Catherine.” Rive spoke in French. “It is important that I speak with Mother Superior. Please be sure to tell her it is Captain St. Clair. She will recognize the name.”

  Without a word, the young nun closed the door. Catherine clung to Rive’s hand, feeling anything but brave. A minute or so later the front door opened, and the same nun stepped aside and bid them enter.