The twins were a full two weeks old when she awoke to find Eric in her room, rocking one cradle while seriously observing Lenore. Amanda felt her eyes upon him and he turned to her. A misty shield covered any emotion, but his expression seemed as grave as Jamie’s was often wont to be.
“We still leave on the first of April. I hope that is convenient for you.”
She nodded, wishing that he had not caught her so unaware. Her hair was tousled, her gown was askew, slipping down from her shoulder. She had wished so badly that she might be more dignified, more perfect, more beautiful. He had said that he loved her. And they were so distant still, strangers who met between the explosions of cannon balls and the clash of steel.
She slipped out of bed and went to him, touching his arm. “Eric, maybe we shouldn’t go back.”
“What?” He swung around, amazed, staring at her hand where she touched his arm. Her hand fell.
“I was just thinking—maybe we should stay here. In France. We could survive. We would not need so very much—”
“Have you lost your very mind!” he asked her.
She backed away from him, shaking her head. “I am afraid! Look at the strength of the British army. They can keep sending men and more men! They have Hessians and Prussians and all other kinds of mercenaries. The colonies—”
“The United States of America,” he corrected her very softly, his jaw twisting.
“We cannot pay our own troops!” she exclaimed. “Eric, if we should lose the war—”
“We?”
“Pardon?”
“You said ‘we,’ my love. Are you part of that ‘we’? Have you changed sides, then?”
She exhaled, mistrustful of the tone of his voice. She felt at such a disadvantage, clad in the sheer silk gown, tousled by the night, barefoot. Eric towered over her in his boots. He was dressed fully in his uniform with his cockaded and plumed hat pulled low over his eyes, his breeches taut about his muscled thighs, his spring cloak emphasizing the breadth of his shoulder. She trembled slightly. He would not come to her now—indeed, he did not seem interested in her—but she wished suddenly and desperately that she could sweep away the time and the anger and the hatred and rush into his arms, just to be held.
She forced a cool and rueful smile to her features. “You have called me a traitor. Well, sir, if I was for the British, then I was not a traitor at any time, unless that time should be now. Am I for the colonies now—excuse me, the United States of America? Yes, I am. And no thanks to you, Lord Cameron. You haven’t the gifts of persuasion that Mr. Franklin so amply possesses. I should very much like to see the Americans win. It’s just that—”
“That you doubt that they can, is that it?”
She flushed and lowered her head slightly. “I have never known quite what it was to love with the need to protect until these last few days. I am afraid.”
Eric was quiet for several seconds. “As far as I know, madame, the British have yet to make war on children. I have to go back. You know that. You’ve known where I stand, and just how passionately, from the very beginning.”
“And you knew where I stood,” she reminded him softly.
“I just never thought—” He broke off, shaking his head.
“What!” Amanda demanded heatedly. She knew what. He had never thought that she would take it so far as to betray her home. “I have told you that I did not—”
“Let’s not discuss it—”
“If we cannot discuss it, then we’ve nothing at all to discuss!” she cried.
He stiffened. For a brief moment she thought that his thin control upon his temper would snap, that he would wrench her into his arms, that he would demand her lips as he had been so quick to do in the past. She prayed silently that he would touch her.
He did not. He bowed deeply to her. “I leave you to the care of our children, madame. Remember that you must soon be ready to travel.”
* * *
It was not so difficult to leave behind Versailles, no matter how beautiful it was. Amanda had never really entered into the inner circle of the court, but she had made friends, and she would miss them. Most of all, though, she would miss Ben Franklin, who would stay on in France until his mission was completed. He hugged her warmly when the party bundled into the coaches that would take them to the port.
“Ah, I do long for home! But then, my dear, I am too old to be a soldier, so this is how I must serve. God with you and yours in all your endeavors!”
She was going to cry, Amanda thought. Mr. Franklin had offered her a quiet and steady friendship when her world had been awry, and she would always love him for it. She kissed his cheek impulsively and climbed up into the coach with Danielle and the twins. One of the babies was thrust into her arms, and she sat back, listening as Franklin said his good-byes to Eric, giving him the last of his communications homeward to Washington, the Congress, and his daughter.
Amanda heard the crack of the whip, and she realized she was leaving Versailles for good. It hurt to leave Mr. Franklin and the comte, who had been kind, but that was the only pain. A raw excitement was already burning in her heart. She was very eager to go home. The soft whisper of the river already seemed to sound in her blood. She could feel the salt against her face, the heat of the summer’s day; she could see the leaves in the autumn, falling with their beautiful and brilliant colors upon the leaves and the water. She could see the stables and the smokehouse and smell Virginia ham. Please God, she thought, let it be there when we return! Let Cameron Hall still stand!
It would stand, she thought. Eric had told her that the British were threatening the north—they had been, at least, away from southern shores.
He did not ride in the carriage with her, but chose to ride a horse alongside. Nor, even during the long journey to reach the water, did he tarry with her long. When they stopped for an evening meal and a bed for the night, he ordered her a room and had food sent to her and Danielle and the twins. It was Jacques who saw to her welfare most often. And each time Jacques approached, he stopped to admire the twins, never touching the pair but watching them with such a poignancy about his eyes that her heart seemed to catch in her throat. Amanda would wonder what tragedy had touched the man’s past to cause such a look in the eyes.
By the fifth of April they were upon the open seas, heading for home with a steady wind. Amanda and the twins had been given the captain’s cabin. She assumed that Eric had chosen to take the first mate’s berth and that the first mate was in with his fellow officers. She felt very well this trip and was eager to walk the decks. Unfortunately, the crew aboard the ship was composed of many of the same men who had discovered her last June with a sword in her hand. While none of them seemed to harbor her any ill will, Amanda still felt awkward around them. Eric was captaining his own ship and, once again, keeping his distance from her. She tried to remind herself that he did not trust her and that she had every right to despise him for his treatment. But again she could not forget that he had said he loved her, and she could not rid herself of the pain of the estrangement. She wondered about him by night. She lay awake and she wondered about his life, the life she had never known, the life of a soldier. She knew that women followed the armies, some for love and some for money, and she wondered how he had spent his time, if he had managed to forget her frequently in the arms of another. She hated the thoughts. They tormented her again and again.
It anguished her, too, that now, when things should be so very fine between them, he drew a greater distance from her daily. He might have claimed that he loved her, but any man who could so thoroughly ignore his wife must have some interest elsewhere. Determined to taunt him, she took to spending her time on deck. Jacques was her friend and would always listen to her, and Frederick, who had accompanied Eric, seemed quite adept with the sea for a printer-turned-soldier. One evening she had managed to gather quite a group about her as she described some of the very outlandish fashions of the French and Italians at Versailles. Then someone started s
inging:
“Yankee Doodle went to town,
A-riding on a pony,
Stuck a feather in his cap,
And called it macaroni!”
They were all laughing when Frederick suddenly sobered. Amanda looked past the group of men to see that her husband was standing before them, dark and towering and very silent. In the night his eyes were ebony and condemning and she was glad of it, for she was ready for a fight.
“My love, I hear whimpering from the cabin. Shouldn’t you be about the babes?”
“But they sleep, my love, I am quite certain,” she returned.
“I say that I have heard crying, and I ask, milady, that you see to it,” he said harshly, his eyes narrowing.
The air, the night, seemed charged. This time it seemed that all these men who so loved and admired her husband were on her side. Amanda came to her feet, smiling sweetly. “Please, please, gentlemen, do forgive my husband’s horrid lack of manners. I quite often do myself.”
With that she swept by Eric, hoping that traces of perfume would haunt his clothing where the silk of her own touched him. She even hoped that she had soured his temper, but he did not follow her. In dismay she realized that the next days followed as the first had done. They were halfway across the ocean, and still, except for an occasional meal with Frederick and Jacques and others in attendance, he did not speak with her all.
The twins were her delight. The sea air seemed to do wonders for them, and when the days were warm, Amanda brought them to the deck. The crew, hardy hands one and all, acted like fools before the babes, clucking, making faces, vying for attention. Amanda, holding Lenore, laughed at one mate’s antics and looked up, searching for Eric. She discovered him not far away, his eyes upon her, pensive and dark. She flushed. He did not look away. “Isn’t she clever, Eric? I could swear that Lenore smiles already, and it has nothing to do with bubbles in the belly!”
He smiled at last. “Aye, my love. She is clever indeed. Like her mother.”
Amanda did not know what the comment meant, and so she turned away.
Soon they were approaching Virginia. Eric often ordered her curtly belowdecks then, for he was wary of British schooners. Frederick told her that they had battled and seized two British warships on their trip to France. “His lordship hoped to catch on to that Lord Tarryton or Sterling, but alas …” His voice trailed away as he remembered that Nigel Sterling was her father. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but they did invade Cameron Hall—”
“There is no pardon necessary, Frederick. Two ships! You battled two ships?”
“Aye, lost only three of our crew, one wounded, two dead, and sent them packing down to Charleston with skeleton crews in place. Lord Cameron promised General Washington that he would take a ship or two, he did, that’s how he gained the time to come to France. And he won’t be wanting to have any run-ins with the Brits now, not with you and the little lad and lass aboard!”
Amanda thanked him for the information. She knew that they would make Virginia by the next night. That evening when the twins slept she left them in Danielle’s care and went atop the deck, seeking out Eric. She saw him at the rail, staring out at the sea and the stars and the night, a tall, rugged silhouette against the velvet patina. Inhaling sharply, she touched her hair, stiffened her spine, and walked softly toward him. She had not quite reached him when he spun around, his hand reaching for his sword. He relaxed when he saw her, and she realized that he was ever ready for a fight now that the war had become a part of his living.
“What is it, Amanda? You should be below. The night is cool, and we are in dangerous waters.”
“Virginia is not so dangerous. You have said so yourself—that is why you are allowing me to return.”
“Tell me what you want, and get below.”
“For one, my lord, I am not one of your servants to be ordered about!”
His lip curled with a trace of amusement. “You are my wife, and still suspected by many to be a traitor, and therefore your position is more precarious than that of any of my servants.”
“Then perhaps, Lord Cameron, I will not care to live in your abode!”
“What?”
She shrugged extravagantly. “Sterling Hall still stands, I do believe. I can take my children and go home.”
“The devil you will, madame—”
“Lord Cameron!”
Eric’s words were interrupted as the lookout shouted down from the crow’s nest. “Lord Cameron! Warship off to the left, sir! She’s flying England’s colors.”
“Be damned!” Eric swore, spinning around. “Frederick, the glass! Gunners, to your stations. Can you see her up there, mate? How many guns is she carrying?”
“Six portside, milord!”
“I can take her,” Eric muttered. “I don’t dare run, she’ll follow us home.” He spun around, suddenly aware of his wife again. “Get to the cabin, Amanda.”
“Eric—”
“For the love of God, will you go? Our children are there!”
She started to speak again, but then closed her mouth and turned quickly. She had barely scampered into the cabin when the roar of a cannon was heard.
“Take Jamie, please!” Amanda said to Danielle. Lenore was already awake and whimpering. Amanda swept her daughter into her arms. Seconds later the ship shivered and trembled.
“We’ve been hit!” Danielle called.
Amanda hurried to the window, drawing back the small velvet drapes. A ship was just coming along hard broadside. A cannon boomed again. Amanda gasped. A direct shot had hit the ship that was almost upon them. The force of the explosion and fire sent her flying back. She landed hard, trying to protect Lenore as she fell on the floor.
There were screams and horrible shouts. The British ship was going down, but those crewmen who had survived the blast were coming aboard. Amanda closed her eyes against the clang of steel and the sound of musket shot. She huddled on the bed, holding Lenore tight. How long could it go on, the horrid, horrid war! How many times could Eric fight—and himself survive?
Eventually the sound of battle began to die down. Amanda walked toward the cabin door, trying to hear. There was nothing. She hurried back to Danielle, thrusting Lenore into her arms along with Jamie. “I’ll be back.”
“Amanda, you come back in here! You were surely told—”
“Danielle, shush, please!”
It didn’t matter, Amanda was already out the door. She paused, choking as powder filled her lungs. As she hurried along the deck, she stepped over the bodies of fallen men, redcoats and patriots alike. She rushed on, suddenly horribly frightened. There was so much silence!
When she came around to the helm, she heard the fighting again at last. It was down to one-to-one combat, the British navy men highly visible in their colors. She looked frantically about for Eric. He was engaged with a young sergeant. Suddenly another man came up behind him. Eric swung around in time to avoid the blow to his back, but the second opponent had caught his sword, and the silver rapier went flying down to his feet.
Amanda screamed, then raced forward. “Amanda!” She heard the roar of his voice as he stepped toward her, grasping the helm rail, staring down the steps to her. He didn’t seem to care that he could be skewered at any moment, his concern was for her.
She caught his bloodied sword up in her hands and raced toward him. He clutched it from her hands, his eyes meeting hers. Then he thrust her behind him and set to dueling his opponents once again. He seemed to move on clouds, agile and able, always a superior swordsman. And always he kept her behind him, until he leapt forward suddenly, catching the sergeant with a quick thrust, then slicing the second man as he rebounded from the first. With a groan the second man slumped to the ground.
Eric looked from the men to her. He touched her cheek, wondering. “I told you to go to the cabin.”
“I did go to the cabin.”
He smiled. “Madame, you were supposed to stay within it.”
“I mig
ht have saved your life.”
“Indeed, my lady, perhaps you did.”
“Lord Cameron!” Frederick called, limping over to them. “The English ship is sinking, and there are live men afloat out there.”
Eric’s eyes remained upon Amanda’s. He smiled. “We must pick them up. They go to the brig, Frederick, but by all means, we must pick up the living!”
Frederick turned to go about his task. “Will you go back to the cabin now?” Eric asked her.
She nodded, smiling, and turned around.
That night was so very different from that long-ago June day when she had been forced to accompany Robert Tarryton. Now she was heartily cheered by all of the ship. The maids and servants and craftspeople and artisans hurried down to greet the ship, eager for a glimpse of the Cameron heir. Eric held the twins up high, one in each arm, and accepted the congratulations of his servants, slaves, and dependents. A coach awaited them. Amanda returned to the house alone—Eric had the business of the British prisoners to deal with and more. Her heart caught as they approached the house, and then she seemed to grow warm, and tears burned her eyes. She loved the place so very much! She hoped that it would not be awkward there, that enough of the people knew her and loved her well enough to understand that she had not betrayed them.
“My lady!” Richard, too excited to be staid, came running down the steps, eager to snatch away one of the twins. “Two! Two! Why, we’d no idea. Of course, we’d no idea at all until Lord Cameron sent word. I do declare, milady, but the lad looks like his father did! Just alike. And with a mat of hair upon his head too! But then, who knows, we cannot tell until the wee ones have grown a bit, eh, madame? But you must be weary, come, come along now!”
Amanda smiled, following Richard. When she entered the hallway she saw that Margaret was standing on the stairway, very still and very white. The servant lowered her head and hurried down the steps. “I’ll leave, milady. I needed me wages, so I waited here working, but I’ll leave—”
Love Not a Rebel Page 38