The General’s Wife: An American Revolutionary Tale

by Regina Kammer

  Perhaps a bit of gossip from the women’s workroom. “Susie Gibbs will be having her baby any day now.” Well, it was something to say, anyway.

  “Yes, Jenny is excited to be overseeing a birth rather than the dead and wounded.” Sam ran the knuckles of one hand over the other in rhythm to some unheard melody.

  Their vacuous words simply prolonged the agony of unspoken desire. Clara had to say something.

  But it was Sam who finally conceded. “How did you sleep on the featherbed last night, my lady?” he asked with a quirked brow. “Much better than the camping cot, don’t you think?”

  She hid a smile. “I will admit it was a far better experience than my attempts at comfort in that pathetic solitary bedstead, captain.”

  He got up from behind his desk and walked toward her, unbuttoning his jacket and waistcoat. “I would like you to share my bed tonight, Clara, if you so wish.” He shed his outer garments.

  Clara’s breath hitched in her throat. It was far too early to actually go to sleep.

  He offered his hand and she stood before him, biting her lip to suppress a smile of desire and happiness. For a moment they stood staring at each other, their fingers lightly touching. Clara flushed, then raised herself on tiptoes and brushed his lips delicately with her own.

  Instantly, his mouth devoured hers, his hands tearing at every button, untying every string, until, finally, they held each other, panting, clad only in shirt and shift. Before she knew what was happening, he had lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, unceremoniously depositing her on the mattress amidst her giggles. He straddled her lustfully, his shirt tenting out from his body indicating precisely how he felt about her at that moment. She peeked under the hem playfully before he tore off the garment, revealing his spectacular masculine form in all its glory, his erection bobbing tantalizingly before her.

  She propped herself onto her elbows and flicked her tongue along the eager purplish head, lapping up the drop of excitement that pooled at the tip. Sam pushed her onto the bed, holding her down at her shoulders.

  “Not tonight, love. Tonight, I want you in the proper way, as a man should be with a woman.” He tugged off her shift then pulled away and simply stared. “My God, you are so … so … perfect.” His gaze wandered over her admiringly.

  She grabbed hold of his hips and lightly drew her thumbs over the ridges of muscle leading to his groin, licking her lips in anticipation. “So are you.” She smiled up at him.

  He urged her back down to the mattress, then cupped her breasts with both hands, pinching the peaks between his fingers, inciting desire below. He bent over and took a nipple in his mouth, his teasing tongue liquefying her core, swelling her sex. He trailed kisses down her belly, stopping at the hairline of her mons, moving lower at an excruciating pace, his hot breath hovering over her yearning clit, taunting her with the promise of pleasure.

  “Please, Sam. Please.”

  She exhaled a juddering breath as he drew his tongue slowly through her wetness. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She tilted her hips, encouraging him.

  He chuckled. And then he sucked her clit mercilessly.

  It was exactly what she needed.

  She thrashed against him as he gripped her hips, digging his nails into her bottom, holding her steady as he took her to the heights, then clamping his hand over her mouth when her moans began to rise with her climax. She jerked against him in glorious culmination as he drank her release, continuing his ravishment even as she was beyond satiated.

  And when he was finished, he settled his body on top of hers, nudging aside her legs to nestle between them, laying his cock in her spent wetness.

  “Have you had enough, my lady?”

  “No, captain. I fear you have not quite finished the act.”

  Sam chuckled and pecked her neck and shoulders. “Insatiable wench.” He rocked his hips to slide his cock through her swollen sex, until the head found its aim. Yet he did not enter her fully, instead continued to tease her, poised over her on straightened arms, his unbound hair falling in loose waves to frame his face.

  She reached up and touched his cheek, rough and masculine. She wanted him, his body in hers, but something so much more than that. “Sam,” she said softly. “I want you to stay inside me.” She met his eyes. “I want you to spend inside me.”

  His playfulness dissolved. “Clara, you know what you are asking? I cannot do that, love.”

  “Please, Sam.”

  “Sweet, there might be … consequences.”

  She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. “My husband does not know I’ve lost my child. And now you’re returning me to him, childless, barren.” Tears stung her eyes. “When we married our agreement was that I could not go home until I bore him two sons. Two, Sam. Now I don’t even have one in my womb.”

  His brow furrowed. “Is that why you want to make love to me?”

  Shocked at his implication she grabbed his arms. “Oh, God, no. Sam, no. I didn’t mean it in that way.” She tried to calm the torrent of regret and mortification that welled within. “Sam, love, believe me, if I were to stay with you, I would insist you … be cautious, but as you are sending me away, I must ask this one favor.”

  Sam rolled onto his back, his legs still tangled in hers. “Clara, I’m not sending you away,” he said bleakly.

  She drew in a long, steadying breath. “Then what is it you are doing?”

  He stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “I guess, if I had known about you and Bridgers I never would have sent the missive to the British. I would have waited for him. But, I cannot go back on my word now.”

  She lifted herself on an elbow. “Why not? Why not simply say you are ignoring your previous bargain? This is war, isn’t it?”

  Sam inhaled deeply, tremulously. “Because when I sent the letter to General Strathmore, I also sent one to my superior, Colonel Axford of the Continental Army, informing him of the situation.” He touched her face, wiping her tears, his own trickling down his cheeks. “I have to honor the bargain. Bridgers did not provide us with some expected supplies, so unfortunately you are the only way to get them. The army is desperate.”

  A bargaining chip. Like what she had been for her father’s ambitions.

  Sam disentangled his legs and folded her in his arms. “I’ve been attracted to you since the day we met. In fact, I had hoped you were not Lady Strathmore. Had you been the maid I would have bedded you a long time ago. Pat, too, most likely.” He chuckled grimly. “Now I regret I did not trust you, or, at least, claim to trust you. You would have told me about Bridgers and we would have waited.” He kissed her hair and spread his hand on her belly. “You have every right to ask for my complicity in your scheme. But, you do realize that even if you were to become pregnant tonight, your baby would not come for another nine months. That’s nine months in addition to the how many months you are supposed to be pregnant at the moment? Wouldn’t your husband be suspicious that the child was so long in your womb?”

  Clara sniffled and laughed bitterly. “Once I’m returned to him he’ll simply send me away again. He’ll have no interest in when the child is born, just whether he has a son or not.” She flattened her palm against Sam’s chest, threading her fingers through the soft hair. “I would love to have your child, Captain Taylor.” Her teary eyes found his and she smiled.

  He grinned and pushed her onto her back, easing his way between her legs once more. “And I, my lady, would love the opportunity to give you one.”

  He bit her neck and she arched her back in response, pressing her breasts against his sculpted chest. His fingernails grazed down her sides, her hips, tickling her. She jerked a shivering retreat from his touch. He held fast to her waist.

  “Where do you think you are going, my lady?” His breath was hot on her neck. “Trying to escape again? Perhaps you need to be restrained.”

  The shivers shot straight to her sex. Somehow he knew it was what she wanted.
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  He massaged her clit and bent over to lick and nibble her too-sensitive nipples, her natural instinct to writhe kept well in check by the weight of his body. She submitted to the all-encompassing ecstasy, letting him take control, letting him take her to the brink. He smiled at her purring moans, a devious smile, a thrilling smile that took her to the absolute edge. She gulped air to bolster her climax…

  And then he took his hand away.

  “You want to spend, my lady, do you not?” he said, casually sucking her nipples.

  “Yes,” she breathed helplessly.

  “‘Yes’?” His tone was velvety smooth.

  She was aching to come, even more so with his sensual teasing. “Yes, please. Sir.”

  He slammed into her. She shattered around him with a sharp cry muffled quickly by his dew-slicked hand. He was hot inside her, hard as iron, and she clenched so tightly he slipped out, only to plunge in more deeply, more resolutely with every thrust, holding her gaze as she stared up at him, open-mouthed, delirious.

  “Touch yourself,” he commanded.

  A thrill coursed through her even before her fingers stretched to rub her aching clit. One touch shocked her into oblivion, and she flinched her hand away.

  Sam grabbed her fingers and pressed them to her mons. “I did not tell you to stop,” he rasped.

  “No, sir.” His forcefulness was exciting, the perfect accompaniment to her ministrations, taking her to a glorious climax.

  She exhaled a sigh.

  “Again,” he commanded, his face somber, his eyes solidly black.

  She was determined to take him with her this time. She massaged the slick folds just below her clitoris, keeping herself on edge, all the while teasing him with relentless squeezes.

  “You’re not coming,” he admonished.

  She squeezed him tighter. “Neither are you.”

  “We’ll just see about that, you little minx.” Sam swatted her hand away, replacing it with his thumb. As he pressed down, he plowed into her. Clara gave in to him, choking back her cry of release. She relaxed under him in suffused exhaustion as he came hot and deep inside her.

  Sam collapsed, panting, then rolled to her side and hugged her close. As sleep crept over him, he murmured something that sounded like, “I love you.” She wasn’t sure as she was quickly lost in the depths of her own dreams, snug and safe in his arms.

  * * * * *

  Sam had been nervous before his meeting with Colonel Axford, and not even the memory of Clara under him the last few nights could dispel the anxiety. She was partly to blame, of course. With every slip of his cock inside her, he lost a little piece of his heart. Returning her was going to be sheer hell.

  But when he met his superior officer at the gate and showed him to his war room, Sam felt immediately at ease. Jocular and fatherly, the colonel was strict but never harsh and, as they walked through the bustling yard, was complimentary of Sam’s management of the fort.

  “General Strathmore has agreed to our terms, sir,” Sam said, offering his superior a seat at the meeting table in the center of the war room.

  “Good work, Captain Taylor.” The colonel did not sit. Instead, he unfolded a large map he had brought with him and spread it out over the table. “However, there is some activity just south of here, in this area, that is of concern to me.” Colonel Axford leaned over the map. “Here,” he said circling his finger over a spot that was just north of Paul Bridgers’s property. “We understand that there was a fire on this property here, and some skirmishes between the British and local militia men.”

  “Yes, colonel, sir. The man Bridgers, who owned the property, was one of our local sutlers.”

  “Never heard of him, captain.”

  “Yes, well, he, uh, remained neutral,” Sam said warily.

  “Ha!” bellowed Axford. “You mean he worked both sides for his own profit. That’s fine, son. You won’t get any argument from me. Just as long as you didn’t trade any secrets,” he said, flashing a smile and winking. “Where is he now?”

  “He’s dead, sir. He was killed in one of the skirmishes you mentioned. Fighting for our side, sir.”

  “Too bad, too bad.” The colonel perused the map again. “What I wanted to show you was—”

  There was a tentative knock on the door.

  “Yes?” Sam called out.

  “First Lieutenant Hamilton, sir.”

  “Come in, lieutenant,” Sam called. “Colonel Axford is here.”

  Pat entered, then beamed when he saw the red-faced jovial officer at the table.

  “Patrick, my boy. Come here, and let me look at you.” Colonel Axford held his arms wide.

  “Colonel, sir.” Pat grinned shyly as he approached the officer. The colonel embraced him in a big bear hug, slapping his back with good humor. “Have you seen Major General Hamilton recently, sir?”

  “Yes, son,” Axford said gently. “Your father is well.” Pat’s father and the colonel had served in the Seven Years’ War together and were good friends.

  Patrick seemed a little edgy. “Would you be able to deliver a letter to him?”

  “A letter? Of course, my boy.” The colonel regarded Patrick quizzically. “What’s this about, son?”

  Patrick looked down at the buckles of his shoes and shifted side to side. He drew in a deep breath. “I want his permission to marry.” He looked up at the colonel. “Sir.”

  That was clearly not what the older man was expecting. “Marry?” he roared, his face turning a slightly deeper shade of crimson. “Who is she?”

  Patrick blushed like an admonished school boy. “A girl at the fort, sir.”

  “I see.” The colonel paced briefly before turning to face Pat. “You didn’t get her with child, son, did you?”

  Pat flushed briefly once more and flashed a glance at Sam. “No, sir,” he said sheepishly.

  Colonel Axford shook his head. “You boys are too quick to move ahead in life. It’s this damn war.” He placed a fatherly hand on Pat’s shoulder. “How old are you, son?”

  “Twenty-three, sir.”

  “You think you’re in love with her, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” Pat said emphatically. “I’ve known her since the beginning of this year. We’ve grown close.”

  Sam watched the struggle of emotion on Pat’s face. What Pat couldn’t tell the colonel was that he wanted to make sure Constance was protected, something he was determined to not fail at again.

  Colonel Axford turned to Sam. “You know the girl?”

  “Yes, sir,” Sam dutifully responded. “She’s kind, pretty, and completely devoted to Lieutenant Hamilton.”

  The superior officer grinned broadly. “Ah, well, I was young once, too,” he said, putting an arm around Pat’s shoulders for a brief hug. “I’ll take the letter to Josiah, son. He’s down in New Jersey mustering his troops. We’re more encouraged now with the victory at Saratoga and the Hessian retreat from Ticonderoga.”

  “Retreat?” Pat looked questioningly at Sam, who shrugged his shoulders.

  “Ah, I see word travels rather inconsistently in this war,” mused the colonel. “The Hessians destroyed Fort Ticonderoga two weeks ago and retreated into Canada. We’ve beat them back for now.”

  Sam exchanged a triumphant look with Pat.

  “But, my boys, this thing with Strathmore worries me. We can’t have the British encroaching from the south. Let me show you.”

  “Blast!” Pat muttered. “Sir, my apologies,” he said to Sam. “We received a note from Strathmore’s camp with a request to reconnoiter the exchange location. The note is from a Lieutenant Sebastian Hawkins.” Pat looked at the colonel and Sam. “Have you heard of him?”

  They shook their heads.

  “He wants to meet alone,” Pat added.

  The colonel cleared his throat. “Well, Strathmore’s got plenty of troops spread out all over the place,” he said pointing to spots on the map. “So this fellow Hawkins probably feels he’s pretty well protected.” He loo
ked at Sam. “You’ll be sending my boy Patrick for the job? He’s the best.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sam responded with a grin.

  “Well, Pat, you take some men with you. Have them follow you, out of sight. I don’t trust Strathmore.”

  “Agreed, sir,” said Pat. “I’ll take my leave to work on the supply list. Captain Taylor and I can discuss specifics later.” The lieutenant bowed to his superiors.

  Sam stared at the door after Pat left. Everything was moving too damned fast. It would be a bloodless battle for Clara, but the wound in his heart hurt like a jab from a bayonet.

  * * * * *

  Pat headed over to the kitchen to review the supply list with Mrs. Scott. It gave him an excuse to poke his head into the women’s workroom and say hello to Constance on the way. His brain buzzing with far too many worries and thoughts—marrying Constance, meeting this fellow Hawkins, checking supplies—he did not notice Lady Strathmore skulking behind him when he greeted Mrs. Scott.

  “I am under strict orders to not let you work in the kitchen, my lady,” Mrs. Scott warned when she saw her standing in the doorway.

  “I was hoping to speak with Lieutenant Hamilton, if I may,” she said timidly.

  Pat had been avoiding Lady Strathmore since his reunion with Constance, but he could not continue to do so in front of others. “We’ll continue in a moment,” he said to Mrs. Scott. He steered the viscountess by the elbow out into the yard. “What is it, my lady?” he said, barely suppressing his irritation.

  She looked at him perplexed. “Patrick, why are you so cross with me?”

  Because your damned husband nearly killed my girl. “Is that what you needed to ask?”

  “No,” she stammered. “I wanted to know about the man with Sam.”

  Pat once again grabbed her arm and guided her along the covered walk toward the captain’s war room. He glanced around furtively before pushing her into the broom closet along the passage and closing both halves of the double door behind him.