“Do not flee.”
A woman! That was a woman’s voice!
Faith clutched the basket’s handle. She had not given thought to the idea that her new contact might be female. Choosing a woman made sense, because too many of the men were busy with the fighting or with protecting their homes here in Goshen. A woman who was stopped and searched would not look out of place if she carried knitted goods and foodstuffs.
But who was this person? Her high-pitched voice did not resemble that of anyone Faith knew.
“Please come out,” Faith replied. “I will not tell anyone who you are. I have kept my counsel before.”
“I know that.”
Faith took a step toward the shadows.
“Stay where you are,” the woman said. “It is better that you do not see my face.”
“But you have seen mine.”
“True, but I knew of you before.”
“From Tom?” She did not add his last name. So many men in the area were named Tom that she would not betray herself more.
“He has been tight-lipped about his contacts. If he had not been, you would not be standing here talking with me now, because you would have been arrested.”
Faith knew she should not ask, but she could not halt herself. “Is he really a spy?”
“That is what the British think. Do you have what you were to bring me?”
Taking the clothes and food out of the basket, she set them in a small pile on the hay, as she had always done when she met Tom here. “I know there is not much here, but I have had a difficult time finding time to knit in recent days.”
“Why?”
“Surely you know that my father has visitors.”
“Yes, I know that.”
Faith wanted to ask the woman to disguise her voice another way, because the high-pitched squeak was vexing—almost as vexing as Sebastian when he interrupted her attempts to find a quiet corner and concentrate on her knitting. Adrat! She should not be thinking of him now. If he learned of this meeting, he might have no choice but to send her to hang alongside Tom Rooke.
Would he? She did not dare to answer that question herself, because she knew how seriously Sebastian took his vows.
“It is not easy to find time to knit when I must help make my father’s guests feel at home,” Faith answered, knowing the excuse sounded weak. Without being honest about how she did not resist Sebastian’s interruptions, her explanation seemed silly. “I bid you good day, mistress.”
Picking up the basket, Faith went back out into the chilly day. The wind tugged at her shawl, and she wished she had put on a heavier cloak. She fought the temptation to look back. Tom had taught her well that knowing too much could be deadly.
She did not want any further part in this. “Wade, forgive me,” she whispered as she hurried along the path through the trees, taking care to avoid the bushes that were sharp with prickers.
“What did you say?”
Faith spun to see Sebastian walking toward her. Had he seen where she had been? She pulled the cloak over her basket to hide it. If he had seen her go into the byre with a full basket, then took note of how empty it was now, he was sure to ask questions she could not answer without betraying herself.
“Sebastian, you startled me.” That was the truth. “I did not expect to see you here.”
“I was following some interesting paths through the woods, and I seem to have gotten myself turned quite around. When I chanced to see you, I knew you would show me the shortest way back to your father’s house.”
“If you keep going in the direction you were walking, you should reach it in less than a quarter mile.”
He strode toward her, his dark cloak catching on the briars beneath the trees. The dead branches snapped in his wake. “There must be a simpler way than through this undergrowth.”
“You need only walk around rather than push through.”
Taking her hand, he said, “Show me.”
She yanked her hand out of his. “Is that an order, Major Kendrick?”
“An order?” His dark brows rose. “I thought it only a friendly request, Faith.”
Knowing that she had let her own disquiet dupe her into speaking so coldly, she said, “It sounded like an order.”
“Are you not going home just now? Are you, perchance, making another call?”
“What do you mean?”
He smiled, but his eyes remained focused on her as he came even closer. “I meant only what I asked. You were to call upon Reverend McEachern today, and I was wondering if you had another call to make. Why do you look for ulterior meanings in everything I say? I thought we were allies.”
“I have told you. I do not—”
“By Jove, Faith, spare me another recitation of the insults that have been heaped upon you by my fellow soldiers. That excuse wears thin.”
“Then I will not offer it again.” With a glare at him, she began to walk away. She heard his footfalls behind her, but she did not turn. She was afraid she would say something she would regret deeply.
She was halted when she came upon a small stream. Adrat! She had been so unsettled by his comments that she had walked in the wrong direction. She turned to go back, but halted. Sebastian stood in front of her with his infuriatingly superior grin. She waved him aside.
He grasped her hand and pulled her closer. “I would be willing to tramp through these woods with you all day, watching your pretty blue skirt emphasize the sway of your steps, but shall we do it as friends?”
“You do not want to be my friend. Not when—stop that, Sebastian!” Faith tried to pull her fingers from his, for he was stroking them with an invitation he did not have to put into words. “Let me go.”
“Is that an order?”
His tranquillity irritated her. Was he toying with her? She wished she knew if he had seen her come out of the byre. If not, he might be jesting with her, as he had nearly from the moment they first spoke. She tried to will her frantic heartbeat to slow. It was impossible when his finger slipped beneath her cloak to stroke her nape.
“If you wish it to be an order, Sebastian, then that is what it is. Please step aside, so I might be on my way.”
“I am afraid this is one order I cannot follow.” He brought her to him.
“I have no interest in—in this.” She tried to avoid his eyes, but his broad hands edged her face.
“No?” Kissing her tenderly, he whispered, “You know that you have a great deal of interest in this.”
“Do I?”
He put one finger under her chin. Tilting her mouth toward his, he whispered, his breath warming her lips, “You have even more interest in this.”
She welcomed his kiss. She had dreamed of his tongue grazing her lips, of his strong hands on her. Waking in the middle of the night, covered with sweat, her body aching for him, she had yearned to savor this again. But no dream was as splendid as the reality. As he drew her up against him, so that there was nothing between them except their clothes, her hands glided up his back. She wanted—she needed—to savor his strength.
“So what do you think?” he murmured.
“I find it very interesting. I—”
Sebastian grasped her arm, whirling her behind him. At the sound of horses riding toward them on the path, she pressed her hands over her lips, which were heated by his kiss. He swore as the riders approached.
“Kneel down here,” she ordered as she heard a shout. She recognized that voice.
“Faith—”
“Heed me, please.” She framed his face with her hands, as he had when he held her. “Trust me just this once, Sebastian. Those men would be glad to kill you because of the uniform you wear.”
“And you?”
“They are my neighbors.”
“Neighbors who are rebels.”
“Trust me,” she whispered, pressing on his shoulders. She did not want to add that she was unsure if the men riding through the woods would spare her life. Then Sebastian would try to protec
t her, and he would die.
Nodding, Sebastian knelt. She pulled his dark cloak over his brilliant uniform and walked toward where the riders were approaching. Wanting to look back to be certain Sebastian was invisible in the undergrowth, she raised her hand to wave to Wade Mertz’s older brother, Wendell. Sebastian would be dead before he had a chance to draw his next breath if Wendell and his fellow rebels found him here. They would take great pleasure in slaying a British officer to repay the king’s men for arresting Tom Rooke.
“Faith!” called Wendell as he swung down from his horse.
The other men remained in their saddles. She realized how few of them she knew and how many there were. When Wendell had left Goshen, determined to repay the British army for his brother’s death, he had traveled with three friends. Now nearly a dozen men were behind him on the path.
He gave her a smothering hug. “What are you doing out on such a cold and miserable day?”
“I had finished some gloves and wanted to give them to Reverend McEachern so he might share them with those who need them.”
“How does my mother fare?”
“She seems better. I saw her at church on Sunday. Why are you asking? Aren’t you going to see her?”
His mouth became a straight line. “The British are closing in on us. They must suspect that we have been taking to General Washington what few supplies the British soldiers have not already stolen. Without the help we have received from—”
“Do you have a message I can take to your mother?” she asked, too aware of how Sebastian could hear every word.
“Tell her that I am well, and that Wade’s death will be avenged.”
“She will not be comforted until you are home and safe.”
“Soon.” He gripped her shoulder. “Tell her soon.” Mounting, he tipped his cocked hat to her. “Tell your father that, as well, Faith. He may reconsider his opinions.”
“My father? Never.”
Wendell did not chuckle as she had expected. His face became grim. “I am sorry to hear that, Faith. Urge your mother and siblings to be wary.”
Faith stepped back as the men rode past. Fear lashed her to the ground. She could not have mistaken the threat in Wendell’s voice when he spoke of her father. A hand settled on her shoulder, and she shrieked.
Sebastian turned Faith against his chest as she sagged, weeping. He wished he could think of something to say that would offer her solace. There was nothing. She had foolishly believed that her neighbors viewed the war as she did. Now she was discovering how past alliances had been forgotten in the cauldron of battle.
Fingering the hilt of the sword he wore at his side, he imagined having let it feast on his enemies here. Then he would have won the title of hero to satisfy his father. But Faith was not his enemy, and he could not risk her.
She drew back and said in a breathy whisper, “Sebastian, please let us go home. I fear what will happen if we stay here.”
“The riders are eager to reach their destination. They will not return here now.”
“I was not speaking of that.” She pulled his face down to hers.
He grasped her, pulling her tightly to him as his lips persuaded hers to surrender every bit of their pleasure to him. Desire detonated inside him as his hands followed the enticing curve of her waist. When she gasped as he pressed against her, the sound swirled down his throat, intensifying the need that clawed at his gut whenever he thought of her.
Tasting the warmth of her breath, his tongue greedily drove deep into her mouth. Her hands quested along him as he pressed against her. Her scent was intoxicating, and he sampled the flavors of her cheek, the tip of her nose, and the satin of her eyelids before teasing her ear with the tip of his tongue. His breath caught directly beneath where her breasts touched him.
Belatedly, he noticed the desperation in her kiss. “Shall I do as you wish, or as you say, Faith? You tell me we should leave, but your kiss urges us to stay here to explore all the pleasure awaiting us.”
“There is no real choice, is there?”
“Maybe there is none, but a man’s fantasies taunt him to believe that anything is possible.”
Faith wished Sebastian would not regard her with such an unguarded expression. It was dangerous to her heart. She could no longer hide from herself that she could fall in love with this handsome, forceful man if she allowed her emotions free rein. “I should hate you for using me to find out more about the rebels in this area.”
“That was happenstance, and I know of no names save that of Wendell Mertz.”
She grasped his arm. “Do not have him arrested. His mother would die with grief to lose both of her sons.”
“Mertz has done nothing except boast within my hearing.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He rested her cheek against his chest again. With a wry laugh, he said, “I find it amusing that you believe you should hate me though you seek comfort in my arms.”
“Sebastian,” she said, stepping out of his arms, “if things were different—”
His finger on her lips silenced her again. “Do not worry, Faith. I will not ask you to denounce more of your neighbors. I want you to want me without thinking of the war.” He stepped away and held out his hand. “We must return home so that you may offer the warning to your family.”
She sighed. The sweet interlude was over. She had come to recognize the hunter who sought his prey. She should have guessed how dangerous it was to yearn for the kisses of a man obsessed with his mission.
She shivered as she placed her hand in his. He brought it to his lips before entwining his fingers with hers. Leading her toward the farm, he said, “It shall be all right, Faith. My men are here to protect your family. No one else you love shall die while I am here.”
“Wade’s death is not your fault.”
“I was not speaking of Wade Mertz, but of another.”
Faith stared at him, not sure what to say. “What other?”
“The man you loved who died fighting his king’s men.”
“I still do not know of whom you speak.”
“I was told that you lost a lover during the battle by the Brandywine. A man named Burstan.”
Taking a step away from him, she whispered, “Who told you a lie like that? Mr. Burstan was married to Reverend McEachern’s sister.”
He scowled as he pounded his fist against a tree. “I see Rooke was telling me yet another lie. Forgive me, Faith, for heeding his tale.”
“You should know me well enough to realize I would not—I mean, if there had been a lover whom I was mourning … That is …”
He paused at the edge of the woods and brought her to face him. Taking her hands, he kissed one, then the other. “I was baffled, I must admit, but even more was I determined not to bring you more pain by asking for the truth.”
“The truth is what I have told you.” She knew her fingers were trembling as she spoke yet another lie to this man she longed to be honest with. She hoped Sebastian would think the quivers came only from her attempt to curb her errant emotions.
“I will remember that. My men and I shall be at your home until I have completed my duties here. Who knows? There may come a time for you and me.”
“When we can be together?” She shook her head with regret. “That time might never come, Sebastian. You are a soldier, and there are battles yet to come.”
“That is true.”
She stared at the trees. “It is you I do not understand most of all.”
“What don’t you understand about me? I am a simple man, Faith.”
“Simple?” She laughed, amazed that she could. “You are the son of an earl! You have lived a wondrous life across the ocean. I have never been more than a score of miles from this house where I was born. My life is simple. Your life is not.”
“Both are complicated now, sweet one.”
Faith had to agree with that, although she said nothing as she went to the house and into the kitchen. The familiar scent
s of roasting meat and fresh milk offered no comfort, because she knew how easily all this could be destroyed if the rebels aimed their anger at her father. But surely one of their leaders knew that she was bringing supplies for General Washington’s men. Would that be enough to protect this family?
Ezekial looked up from where he was polishing his boots. “Did you have a pleasant walk?”
“It was cold,” Faith replied.
“Is that why you were all cuddled up with Sebastian?” He winked at his brother.
Emery urged, “Do not tease her.”
“Why not?” asked Ezekial.
Sebastian laughed as he unbuttoned his cloak. Setting it on the bench by the door, he said, “That is an excellent question. I always have enjoyed hoaxing my siblings.” He put his arm around Faith’s shoulders. “It seems you saw me thanking your sister for being neighborly enough to guide me here, as I am not familiar with these roads.”
“Neighborly?” Ezekial sniffed, and Emery chuckled.
“Faith! Faith!” Molly ran toward her. Tugging on the sleeve of Faith’s gown, she urged, “Come on. You must see what has happened.”
Faith glanced at Sebastian. He was still smiling, but his eyes narrowed. Wanting him to reassure her that Wendell and his comrades had not followed them here, she took her little sister by the hand and went to the parlor, where her father and mother were talking intently.
Her mother looked up, her face ruddy. Faith’s stomach lurched. Then she realized as she hugged her mother that the high color had been burnished by the cold, because her mother’s cheek was nearly as chilled as hers.
Mother handed them each a cup of aromatic tea. Not real tea, Faith realized when she took her first sip, but one those Mother created from the variety of herbs that were grown in the garden.
Before Faith could speak, Father grasped her hands and said, “This is for you, daughter.”
She took the folded sheet, her fingers stiff as she tried not to let them quiver. Another message so soon? Something must be wrong. She was so certain of that she had to read the message a second time to realize it was not about delivering supplies, but an invitation to a ball at Sir Richard Jackson’s country estate the next week. Her knees folded, and she sat on the closest chair as she reread the invitation, which was to her and her family and her father’s guests.
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