CHAPTER 18
Rose scratched Liverpool behind the ears, eliciting an affectionate moo from the cow then moved to Valor’s stall. The horse lifted her head over the railing. One large brown eye assessed Rose as she approached—an eye so full of sorrow and compassion it nearly crumbled the wall of tears behind Rose’s eyes.
“Oh Valor.” She leaned her cheek against the horse’s face, inhaling the musky, sweet scent of horseflesh. “I can always rely on you. You’ll never leave me, will you?”
Valor blew out a snort in response and stomped her hoof.
Though Rose had snuffed her candle and crawled early into bed nearly an hour ago, slumber had escaped her.
Just like Mr. Reed. He was no doubt on his way back to his ship by now. Lord, keep him safe.
Rose kissed Valor and took up a pace across the hay-strewn ground. It was better that he left. Better for them both. Better for their countries. Then why did she feel as though her heart would dissolve beneath the pain? She swerved around and headed the other way. “Oh Lord, of all the men in the world, why did You allow me to fall in love with a British officer?” Tears escaped the corners of her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. She didn’t understand God’s reasoning. But then again, she didn’t understand why God had allowed any of the tragedies in her life.
The light thud of a footfall jarred her heart into a frenzied beat. Memories of Lieutenant Garrick’s attack bombarded her. She swerved toward the open door.
Mr. Reed stood at the entrance to the barn—an apparition of her grieved mind. A gust of wind tousled a strand of his hair that had broken free from its tie. Still donned in the stained livery of a footman, his white shirt stretched across his thick chest like a milky band in the moonlight.
She rubbed her eyes and took a step back.
He held up a hand. “It’s only me, Miss McGuire.” His deep voice sent her heart into a different kind of frenzy.
Rose swallowed. Every inch of her wanted to throw herself into his arms. A seed of hope began to sprout within her that perhaps he wouldn’t leave at all. Perhaps he had come to tell her he intended to switch sides, to become an American. “What do you want?”
“Forgive me. I … I …” He shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was looking for my uniform and sword.”
“I gave them to you.”
He blinked as a puzzled look tightened his features. “I hid them under my bed, but when I went to retrieve them, I found them gone. I thought. … I thought. …”
“You thought I took them? Why would I when I want you to leave?” The lie made her cringe. His statement dried up her hope. A breeze blew through the barn, bringing a chill with it. She hugged herself.
His puzzlement turned to concern as he approached her. “You’ve been crying.” The timbre of his British accent eased through her like warm tea on a winter’s night.
Rose looked away. Sorrow constricted her chest.
Touching her chin with his finger, he moved her gaze back to his. Lantern light angled over his sharp jaw and flickered in his hazel eyes now brimming with affection. “Rose, surely you are aware of my feelings for you.”
Rose’s breath halted in her throat.
“The pain of never seeing you again overwhelms me.” His warm hands enveloped hers and he looked down.
Rose’s breath returned and gusted out of her mouth. A sob emerged behind it.
Which he must have taken as shock, or worse, disapproval. “My apologies for being so bold.” He gazed down at their hands and released his grip. “But situation and time deny me the luxury of proper etiquette.”
Rose finally found her voice. “Why do you tell me this when you are leaving?”
“Because I want you to know. I want you to remember me. To know that you affected me deeply—changed me.”
Hope sparked in Rose’s heart. “Then why not stay? Become an American.”
He shook his head and stared at the ground. Dark strands of hair hung around his face, hiding his expression.
A tear slid down her cheek. He looked up.
“I’ve made you cry.” He started to turn away, but Rose grabbed his hand. His warm fingers wrapped around hers as if he’d never let go. “You are the first man I’ve allowed to touch me—the first man I’ve felt safe with in years.”
“That pleases me more than I can say.” He gathered both her hands in his once again. His manly smell surrounded her like a shield. A look of complete and unfettered concern beamed from his eyes. “Rose, tell me what happened to you.”
Alex watched as Rose turned and made her way to the barn door, leaning against its frame. He followed her. A breeze swirled around them, fluttering the hem of her gown and dancing among the golden curls that hung to her waist. Moonlight encased her in a protective glow as if she were too beautiful, too pure to touch.
“Remember when I told you about the so-called friend of my father’s who took me in after my mother died and made me a servant?” Her voice quavered.
Alex nodded.
“I didn’t tell you everything that happened to me after I ran away from him.” She shifted her gaze away.
“You bartered passage aboard a merchant ship, if memory serves me.”
She swallowed hard and opened and closed her mouth several times as if trying to say something.
“There is no need to tell me.”
Blue eyes shot to his, cold with pain. “I want to. I want you to know.”
She turned away from him and gazed out upon the farm. “At first the captain and crew were kind to me. They gave me my own quarters and fed me well.”
The muscles in Alex’s chest tightened. The tone of her voice, the defeated pain, said it all. Somehow he knew what was coming, and he didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to know that anyone had hurt this precious lady.
“But one night, two sailors crept into my cabin. One of them assaulted me—” Her voice cracked.
Blood pulsed hot in Alex’s veins.
“During the struggle, I grabbed the pistol of the man attacking me. And I shot him.” Her delicate jaw grew taut. “The captain burst into the room before the other man could react. But he was too late. The sailor was dead and I was …”
Alex stepped toward her.
She shuffled away. “The captain put me ashore, stating he wanted no more trouble aboard his ship.”
The anguish in her tone sent a lance through Alex’s heart.
“I traveled on foot, keeping to the trees that lined the coach trails, not daring to trust anyone again. Finally, two weeks later, I arrived at my aunt and uncle’s house in town, starved and beaten.” Drawing in a deep breath, she faced him, her features tight and a distant look in her eyes.
Alex tightened his jaw. Her sad tale had not surprised him. He had suspected as much. But now that he knew for sure, he could understand why she was frightened of everything. Why she feared even going into town. What this poor girl had endured at so young an age—just seventeen. It took all his strength to contain the rage bubbling up inside him at the sailors who had accosted Rose. But his anger would do her no good right now. Now, she needed understanding. She needed love and acceptance.
Her shoulders began to quiver beneath a sob. “I killed a man.” She shook her head. “And the worst of it is I’m not sorry for it.”
Alex reached out for her, but she backed away.
“I’m a murderer,” she said. “The Bible says ‘thou shalt not kill.’”
“I’m told by a very reliable source that God forgives.” Alex grinned, hoping to lighten her mood.
“Does He forgive when I’m not sorry?”
Alex had no idea. He suddenly wished for Mr. Drummond’s wise counsel, anything to help ease Rose’s torment. “Is that why you abhor guns?”
“Yes.” She tilted her head upward, allowing the moonlight to soften the hard lines of anguish. “What that sailor did to me was done. I am defiled. But because of that pistol, I now live with the guilt of his murder.”
“You were defending yourself. No more than I or any military man does in war.” Slipping in front of her, Alex took her in his arms. After a second, her stiff body relaxed, and she began to sob. He kissed her forehead and caressed the back of her head. He continued to stroke her hair and allowed her to cry even as fury tore through him. What he wouldn’t give to find the remaining sailor and bring him to justice.
When her sobs were spent, Alex drew away from her and cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. Her red nose and tear-streaked cheeks glistened in the moonlight. “You are not defiled to me. You are the most precious thing I have ever encountered.” He eased a lock of her hair from her face. “I truly do adore you.”
“Then stay with me.” The look of pleading in her moist eyes threatened to crack his resolve. No, to blast it into fragments. But what of his country, his family honor, his brother, his recompense? Would he be making another rash decision based on the passion of the moment that would only cause him further pain? Yet now as her lips parted and her eyes lovingly caressed his face, all those things seemed to drift away in the night breeze.
He lowered his mouth to hers.
Rose closed her eyes and felt Alex’s lips touch hers. Moist and warm. Pressing her against him, he planted soft kisses over her mouth. His body stiffened and warmed. His kiss deepened. A surge of heat flooded her, swirling in her belly and sending pinpricks over her skin. She melted into his arms and lost herself in his scent, the feel of him, the taste of him. Her mind careened into an abyss of pleasure and love—a place she never wanted to leave.
An evening breeze wafted over them, bringing with it the scent of summer hyacinth. Silver light surrounded them. Leaves fluttered on trees as though they were laughing with delight. Rose never wanted this moment to end.
He withdrew and caressed her cheek with his fingers.
Rose was afraid to open her eyes. “I’m dreaming.”
“After that kiss, I assure you, you are not.” His voice was deep and sensuous.
Rose fell into him, and he swallowed her up in his arms.
“So this is the way of things?” a voice dripping in spite shouted from the darkness.
Jerking back from Alex, Rose spun to see Mr. Snyder approaching the barn, one hand on his cane, the other fisted at his waist.
“What are you doing here?” Rose’s mind reeled at the interruption.
Alex groaned. Valor neighed and retreated into her stall as if the sight of the councilman sickened her.
“The question should be, what are you doing, Miss McGuire, compromising yourself with a family servant? Beyond unscrupulous.” He huffed and jutted out his chin.
Alex moved in front of Rose, easing her behind him as the councilman entered the barn. “One more insult to Miss McGuire, and I shall demand satisfaction.”
The spark of confidence in Mr. Snyder’s eyes did not fade beneath Alex’s threat, and that alone sent a sliver of dread down Rose’s back.
“Fraternizing with the enemy, my dear?” Mr. Snyder twirled his cane in the air and moved toward Alex, a malicious smirk on his thin lips.
Rose’s heart stopped beating, or so it seemed. The barn began to spin.
“Whatever are you babbling about, Mr. Snyder?” Alex’s tone remained confident and demanding, but she could tell from the way he fisted his hands at his waist that Mr. Snyder’s words had struck their mark.
The smile fell from Snyder’s lips, and a hateful frown took its place. “I’m talking about your being a British naval officer, Mr. Reed.”
Rose’s legs nearly gave out, and she stumbled. Alex turned just in time to catch her before she fell. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he drew her to his side.
“Now isn’t that sweet?” Snyder planted the tip of his cane in the dirt and leaned both hands upon it.
“You’re mad, Snyder,” Alex spat. “Where is your proof?”
One cultured brow lifted. “I have in my possession a certain service sword.”
Rose felt a tremble jolt through Alex.
“I see from your stunned expression that you know the sword. It has an engraving, I believe.” He tapped his chin. “Let me see if I can recall it. Ah, yes. Alexander M. Reed, HMS Undefeatable.” He grinned like a cougar about to devour his prey. “An award perhaps for some courageous action?”
Rose gasped, and Alex tightened his grip around her waist. She glared at Snyder, surprised by the hatred burning in her soul for this man. “What are you going to do?” she asked.
He puckered his slimy lips and widened his eyes. “Well, nothing actually.” Then he grinned. “As long as you both do what I say.” Despite his assured stance, a bead of sweat forged a trail down his cheek.
“Pray tell, what is that?” Defeat and sorrow deepened Alex’s tone.
“It’s quite simple really. You, Mr. Reed, will scurry back to your ship or wherever you came from.” He gestured with his hands as one would usher a mouse to a hole. “And you, Miss McGuire, will agree to marry me.”
Nausea leaped into Rose’s throat. The air thinned around her. Rose felt Alex’s body stiffen, heard the grunt of disbelief at the man’s nerve.
“No doubt you know what will happen if you do not comply,” Snyder pushed. “If I turn you in to authorities …” The rat paused for effect. “Miss McGuire and her family will be arrested for harboring the enemy.” Then he waited, a malicious smirk on his face. Rose wanted to wipe it off, wanted to tell him to take a flying leap.
Finally Alex sighed. “I’ll go back to my ship, Snyder, but leave Miss McGuire and her family out of this. They’ve done no wrong.”
“Perhaps.” Snyder sauntered toward Liverpool. The cow swung her head over the stall and snorted at him, halting him in his tracks. He wrinkled his nose, then turned to face them.
“Not very smart, are you, Mr. Reed?” Snyder cocked his head. “I’ll still have your sword. And unless you have forgotten your unfortunate meeting with General Smith in town,”—he grinned—“ah, yes, I know about that. Well, let’s just say, I’m sure he’ll remember you were employed as the Drummond servant.”
“We will deny that we knew his true identity.” Though she tried to sound authoritative, Rose’s voice cracked.
“No one will believe you, my sweet Rose.” Snyder’s lips slanted. “Not with the evidence I have gathered from Mr. Reed’s quarters, and the fact that the British were seen on your property the night Mr. Reed suddenly appeared. Egad, the man’s own regal accent betrays him.”
Rose’s legs trembled. He was right. General Smith was no fool.
Mr. Snyder brushed a speck of dirt from his coat, and Rose thought she saw a flicker of pain cross his face. “I am not a cruel man. I had hoped my fears of a dalliance between you and Mr. Reed were but a figment of my overimaginative mind. If so, there would be no need to resort to such measures.”
The spark of hope that had ignited within her earlier, now extinguished, leaving her soul empty and dark.
Alex shifted his stance. “And if the lady refuses to marry you?”
“That would be most unwise.” Snyder pointed his cane at them and chuckled. “For I can assure you that Miss McGuire and her aunt, uncle, most likely her maid and cook too will be tried for treason and executed.”
CHAPTER 19
Alex stormed into the servants’ quarters. The wooden door slammed against the wall, raining dust upon him from the rafters. Fury blazed a hot trail down Alex’s back, legs, arms, until he felt he would burst unless he struck something—or someone. He lifted a boot to the lone table and kicked it. It flew through the air and crashed against the far wall then fell, in shatters, onto the dirt floor.
Alex heard Rose’s soft footsteps enter behind him. He ran a hand through his hair, tearing strands from his queue, and tried to collect his rage. But no sooner had his anger dwindled than an overwhelming sorrow threatened to crush him. He shook it off. Anger was better. It kept him focused, determined. It kept him from sinking into despair.
But a sob filtering
from behind him proved to be his undoing. He turned around. Moonlight cast Rose’s dark silhouette in a silver aura. He opened his arms, and she dashed toward him. The soft curves of her body melded against his chest, and he tightened his arms around her as if doing so would always keep her with him, always by his side. He stroked her hair. She trembled beneath another sob. Releasing her, he cupped her face and lifted her gaze to his. Tears streamed down her cheeks. He wiped them gently with his thumb.
“What are we to do, Alex?” Her face was etched in sorrow.
He hated to see her in such pain. Hated to feel it himself. Hated to be the cause of it. To the devil with Mr. Snyder! Alex had met scoundrels in his life. Many in fact during his time in His Majesty’s Navy. One of them, Garrick, lay in a shallow grave not too far from where they stood. But the councilman surpassed them all.
He kissed Rose’s forehead, then pressed her against him.
“I will die if I marry him,” she cried.
Alex agreed for he felt as though he would die as well if she married that buffoon. Silently, he cursed himself for his selfishness, for staying too long, endangering this family and this precious woman.
Alex pushed away from her. Tears pooled on her lashes, and a red hue colored her nose and cheeks. Golden curls tumbled over her shoulders like spun silk. He took her hands in his. “I will not allow that to happen.” Releasing her, he took up a pace across the room, not wanting her to see the moisture filling his eyes, not wanting her to see his inner conflict that surely must be evident on his face.
A sob moaned in her throat. “You could stay, switch sides, then it wouldn’t matter that Snyder has your sword?”
Surrender the Night Page 22