Moonlight Rebel

by Ferrarella, Marie

  He was in a state of agitation that could only be caused by the war. Savannah frowned. She could feel another lecture coming. After listening to Charity's laments, she couldn't bear to be bored anymore. Discreetly, she left the room as her father turned his attention to the men, his remaining guests, who had come to gather around him.

  Scowling, the wine doing nothing to mollify his disposition, Morgan looked at the lot of them. All soft, he thought, all unfit for bearing arms. He had met a man on horseback while on his way to the Connolly plantation, and had been told things that had made him turn back.

  "Where are my sons?" he demanded.

  "Here, in the house, Master Morgan," Jeremiah answered when no one else responded.

  Morgan looked at the gaunt, black face. The man always seemed to know everyone's comings and goings. At least someone has a head on his shoulders, he thought. "Go fetch them for me."

  As Jeremiah left the room, the other men waited for Morgan to speak. Morgan had been one of the leaders of the Virginia convention when it had called for decisive action against the Crown's taxation. He had championed the idea of independence when no one else would even utter the word. It grieved and vexed him to no end that neither of his sons was even partially involved in a cause so dear to him. So crucial to the country that gave them birth.

  When he spoke he commanded attention. The noise in the room died away. "While all of you were here, drinking rum punch, American patriots were dying in Norfolk, trying to save the town."

  Only blank stares met his gaze. Norfolk was but twenty miles away. At their door. "The British burned down the town, damn you!" His voice trembled with rage.

  Indignation and questioning looks met his announcement. Then the men looked at one another.

  Bored, Charity walked out.

  Jeremiah knocked lightly on Jason's door.

  Krystyna quickly raised her head from Jason's chest. The dreamy haze of contentment left her as those raps brought back the world.

  "Yes?" Jason called. He placed a finger to his lips when he saw the look of alarm that entered Krystyna's eyes.

  "Master Morgan's back. He wants to see you in the sittin' room, Mast'r Jase. I'll be going to find Master Aaron now."

  Jeremiah sounded as if he knew what was going on behind the closed door. Jason shook his head. There were times when that old man was uncanny.

  He rose quickly. He was still totally naked. Surprised by his lack of inhibitions, Krystyna averted her eyes.

  He smiled at her modesty as he pulled on his britches. "That's something you're going to have to get used to, darlin'." Jason allowed himself a moment to look at the outline of her body beneath the blanket, envisioning it as he had seen it only a few minutes ago. "We're going to have to break you of your shyness," he declared. "Although you certainly weren't shy when I had you in my arms."

  He kissed her quickly on the lips. Even that fleeting taste had him wanting more. If his father were not calling for him —and would undoubtedly come up to get him if he didn't appear—Jason would have stayed and pleasured them both again.

  "Ah, Princess, if you only knew what you do to me." Before desire got the better of him, he quickly pulled on his shirt and left the room.

  She watched the door close. This time she had no empty feeling inside. There was still confusion, but it was edged with a border of peace. She didn't understand any of it.

  Quickly, Krystyna hurried out of bed, struggling into her clothes as best she could. She glanced at the bureau mirror to check her appearance. She wanted to be sure that no one would guess where she had been and what she had been about.

  Cautiously, she opened the door a crack, then looked up and down the hallway. Satisfied that no one saw her, she slipped out. She was about to go down the stairs when she saw the door at the other end of the hall open. Aaron walked out, stuffing his shirt into his britches. He was obviously hurrying so as not to incur his father's wrath. It appears from his manner that he has been about the same thing as Jason, Krystyna thought. But Aaron wasn't coming out of his wife's room.

  Krystyna slipped into a recess in the hall and watched as he went down the far staircase. It led almost directly into the sitting room. Several moments later, Leola emerged from that end room, glancing furtively about.

  Krystyna stood, numb with surprise. Poor Lucinda. How could he keep on doing this to her?

  Having made a decision, Krystyna stepped forward. "Hello, Leola."

  Leola gasped, her eyes wide. She hadn't seen Krystyna in the hallway a moment ago. The two women looked at one another, there was now no secret. A guilty look came over the dark woman's face.

  "I ... I meant no harm, miz," she whispered. "He . . . he's being very nice to me and . . ."

  Sympathy flooded Krystyna. What could Leola do? Refuse a master who owned her body and soul? The young woman had no control over her own destiny. Krystyna placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Leola was trembling.

  "You need not explain anything to me," Krystyna said kindly. How pretty Leola is, she thought. She could see why Aaron was attracted to the girl, but she was angry at his lack of self-control. Didn't he realize how much he hurt Lucinda with his actions? Just because a woman was prettier than Lucinda . . .

  Krystyna stopped, an idea occurring to her.

  Leola was still looking at her with frightened eyes.

  "I will not say anything," Krystyna promised. "But you should be more careful. He can get you with child, and then your problems will be many."

  "Yes, miz. Thank you ma'am, miz." Leola curtsied.

  Krystyna began to hurry away. There was John to see to. She had left him alone much too long.

  "You won't say nothin' to my pa, will you?" Leola asked anxiously.

  The plea struck a chord in Krystyna's mind. She turned around slowly and looked at Leola. Returning to her side, she asked softly, "Is this the first time he has taken you to his bed?"

  Leola looked down at the rug and hung her head.

  "It is not, is it?" Krystyna sighed heavily. Leola raised her head, tears shining in her almond eyes.

  "No, miz, it ain't. But I ain't bad. I . . . He's nice to me, miz. Mast'r Aaron, he give me things." Leola grasped Krystyna's hand and then quickly dropped it, realizing that in her agitation she had touched her. Slaves were whipped for less. Still, something in the white woman's eyes had made her trust her.

  "Oh, miz, he makes me feel things inside. How can it be bad if I feel this way?" Leola asked, needing someone to tell her.

  "He is married, Leola, and he is not your kind," Krystyna said simply. "It can only lead to trouble. For you. For everyone."

  Now she understood why Jeremiah hated Aaron. Jeremiah knew and was powerless to do anything about the seduction of his own daughter. It must have been awful for him.

  "Promise me you will try to keep out of Mister Aaron's way," Krystyna implored. She placed a hand on Leola's shoulder, felt it quiver under her touch.

  "But what if he makes me?"

  Krystyna remembered what Aaron had said to her when he had apologized. "Has he before?"

  Leola shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "He makes me want it."

  "Then he will not force you now. Mister Aaron is not like that. He is not a man to force his will." He has none, Krystyna added silently. What Aaron had was a craving for acceptance by pretty women. He had a woman who would have given him her very soul, but she wasn't beautiful and, for Aaron, her adoration wasn't enough. "Think what it would do to your mother and father if they knew," Krystyna said.

  "My Pa'd kill me dead," Leola whispered.

  "I do not think so," Krystyna told her quietly. "Your father is a good man. He would understand." Whether he will forgive her is another story, she thought. "But he would be very, very hurt."

  She glanced up as she heard a noise in the hallway. Lucinda was coming out of her room, her face still flushed.

  Does she suspect what is going on between her husband and Leola? Krystyna wondered. "You be a good gi
rl, Leola, and remember what I have said to you." She indicated the stairs with her eyes. In her present state, Leola only had to look at Lucinda and the secret would be out. Krystyna wanted her gone before Lucinda approached.

  "I will tell no one," Krystyna promised again. Leola smiled weakly at her before she fled.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Lucinda turned pale when she saw Krystyna walking toward her. What could she say to her after she'd seen the soldier sleeping in the cabin? Lucinda knew she looked flustered, and she was afraid her very appearance would give her away. She had already decided that whatever Krystyna's reasons were for keeping the man there, they would be good. Krystyna was incapable of doing anything wrong.

  For the first time in Lucinda's life, she had puzzled out a situation on her own. She had drawn her own conclusions without someone else telling her what to think. Though she was frightened, the slight control she was exercising over her life felt exhilarating. Krystyna was her friend, and she had to protect her at all costs.

  Heated voices from the sitting room echoed throughout the house. Krystyna listened only long enough to assure herself that they had nothing to do with anyone discovering Sin-Jin in her cabin. From the sound of it, Morgan was embroiled in another political discussion. His was the only voice she could hear clearly. She wondered what had brought him back so soon.

  She turned her mind to the woman in the hall. As she approached her, she noticed that Lucinda looked unusually pale. "I do not have time now, Lucinda, but I would like to see you later to discuss . . ." How was she to put this delicately? ". . . your appearance."

  Thoughts of the secret she had discovered flew from Lucinda's mind at Krystyna's words, and she felt a stab of pain. She knew she was plain. All her life she had been told that. But she had never expected Krystyna to allude to it. The fact that this woman she considered her friend had done so hurt deeply.

  Krystyna saw the other woman's expression fall and regretted her choice of words. She only wanted to help. Linking an arm through Lucinda's, she ushered her off to the side. "I know I am being forward," she said quickly, "but if you would let me, I would like to perhaps . . . experiment on you."

  Lucinda looked at her uncertainly. "Experiment?"

  Krystyna placed her fingers beneath Lucinda's chin and tilted it slightly. "I think you have a lot to offer, but you do not make the most of it." Krystyna studied her closely. Yes, she was certain she could make her look more attractive. She smiled warmly at Lucinda. "It always helps to be your most appealing for a husband."

  Lucinda realized what Krystyna was saying to her. Sadness entered her eyes as it always did when she thought of Aaron's unfaithfulness. "Aaron can't help the way he is. It's in his blood. And was in his father's before him. His father-"

  " — is not Aaron," Krystyna insisted. She wouldn't be deterred. She was convinced she could help. Lucinda deserved a measure of happiness in her life. And perhaps Aaron would be surprised at the rose that was blooming in his garden under his very nose. "It would do no harm to try."

  "No, I guess not." Lucinda smiled at her, grateful for the interest Krystyna was taking in her welfare. "You really are very nice to me." She had no idea how to make her gratitude known.

  Krystyna smiled over her shoulder as she made her way to the stairs. "It is not hard." She wondered if Lucinda would ever realize how much more worthwhile she was than Savannah.

  Lucinda looked after her, a feeling of warmth filling her. The soldier in the cabin was completely forgotten for the moment.

  Morgan's voice assaulted her ears as Krystyna reached the bottom of the stairs.

  "Just look at this." Morgan waved a pamphlet at her. The horseman he had encountered had pressed it on him. "Some cold-blooded northerner's got more sense than some of the men in this county."

  He had a copy of Thomas Paine's pamphlet Common Sense. It had just been printed and was spreading through the colonies like wildfire. Zealots were distributing as many copies as they could get their hands on. The words within the pamphlet were exactly the fuel men needed to fire them up at this time of indecision.

  "Calm down, Father," Jason said when no one else uttered a word. "You know that's not true. Patrick Henry's from our county, as are Tom Jefferson and Richard Henry Lee. You're not the only man on the side of the Americans." He perched on the arm of a chair, his arms crossed before him, as calm in appearance as his father was agitated. "This isn't your private war."

  Morgan whirled on him, surprisingly agile for a man of his age and bulk. His coattails flew out behind him. "Well, it would be if the likes of you were all the country had to depend on."

  "We're not a country yet," Winthrop reminded him coldly. Then his smug look faded in the face of Morgan's ire.

  "The hell we're not! Washington flew our flag over Cambridge in Boston."

  Jason looked up, his interest aroused. "We have a flag?"

  "We have a country, sir!" Morgan boasted. "No thanks to you."

  "Father," Jason pointed out wearily, "we've been through all this before." He glanced at Winthrop's pudding face. He hated having the man privy to what amounted to a family quarrel. "There's no need to make a public scene out of it."

  "Why not?" Morgan threw up his hands. "My shame is public. I have one weak son who is obviously on the side of the British bastards —in his own mousy way." Aaron winced and purposely looked at no one, fully convinced that all were looking at him. "And one coward who won't take any stand at all."

  Jason rose, his expression dark. His hands were clenched at his sides in an effort to keep hot words from spewing from his lips. "Never say that to me again," he warned, and for a moment even Morgan's self-righteous fire abated. "When I can feel this war in my gut the way you can, sir, then and only then will I take a stand." He let the anger leave his voice. "Right now it is primarily a lot of shouting and name-calling on both sides, with misguided 'patriots' wasting their lives on the whims of a fat king. I won't be part of this madness until it makes sense to me."

  Morgan's face grew red. How could he have spawned something like this? "What of freedom?"

  Jason didn't back away. "What freedom is there in being made to follow? You are infringing on mine, sir, by trying to make me bend to your will. I will do what I want when I want." He crossed to the doorway. "Now if you will excuse me, there is work to be tended to."

  And with that he turned and walked out, not noticing Krystyna, who had stood in the opposite doorway throughout the whole confrontation.

  Her eyes followed him, mixed emotions churning through her. Once she had thought him a coward, just as his father did. She knew now that he wasn't, but what was he? She couldn't understand a man who didn't feel something for his country, didn't feel a part of it. He was not British, he was not American. He was alone.

  No, she thought, remembering the way he had held her in his room. He is not alone. No matter what happened, no matter where she went, where he went, she would be his. Her soul belonged to him. She tried to hate him for that, but couldn't though he had complicated her life beyond belief. She no longer knew what she wanted. Her direction was unclear.

  Krystyna slipped into the kitchen quietly. Only Jeremiah was there. "Been waitin' on you," he murmured. He handed her a basket he had hidden in the pantry. "It's full."

  With that, he turned back to his work as if she weren't there.

  "Thank you " she whispered.

  Quietly, taking care not to encounter anyone outside the house, Krystyna made her way back to her cabin.

  Sin-Jin turned his head toward her as she closed the door behind her. She is as silent in her movements as a doe in the forest, he thought. "Hello. I was beginning to worry about you."

  "I could not get away until now. How do you feel?" Taking off her shawl, she opened the basket Jeremiah had given her. She took out several slices of ham and a bowl of vegetables, placing them on a plate.

  Sin-Jin eyed the food hungrily. "I could certainly eat that." His stomach rumbled to give credence to his sta
tement.

  She smiled. "That is a good sign." Setting the food on the chair next to him, she helped prop him up. "The faster you get well, the better for all of us." Sin-Jin stopped reaching for the food to look at her. "I do not wish to make you feel unwelcome, but . . ."

  He nodded. "I understand." He accepted the cup of water she handed him. "Am I putting you in a great deal of danger?"

  She shook her head. What would be would be. "No, do not worry about that. Nothing will happen to me."

  She sounds so confident. What is her place in the scheme of things here? he wondered. "You know, you're an amazing woman." His eyes washed over her, and the look in them showed more than mild interest. "I was once in love with someone who looked a bit like you." He thought for a moment, remembering. "Except that she had a cruel smile. I never noticed it before, but she had." He laughed at his own folly. "Hard to see things when you're in love." He swallowed another mouthful of food, then looked at her curiously. "Are you really an indentured servant?"

  "In a manner of speaking, yes." She sat down on the edge of the bed.

  "In what manner of speaking?" he prodded.

  "I made a bargain with the master here. I will stay and teach his grandson history and languages if he pays me enough money to buy my passage back home."

  "Which is where?"

  She looked at him, the answer stuck in her throat from habit. But she needed to talk to someone just now, needed to give voice to all the turmoil inside, and who better than a stranger who would be out of her life in a few days? "Poland."

  He tried to picture where that was in Europe. "I've never met anyone from there before." He look a long drink, then turned to his food. "If you want to go back so badly, why did you come here in the first place?"

  Yes, why? "My father thought it would be best for us. We were in danger."

  He noted that her expression had sobered. Sin-Jin waited, but she offered him no further explanation. He had to fill in the gaps himself. "You're an emigre, then?"