Moonlight Rebel

by Ferrarella, Marie

  "I am sick," he said, coughing. The sound rattled around in his chest. "I've been sick for a long time, but it wouldn't do to let the men know. That's why I'm trying to cure myself."

  She looked at the leeches and tried not to shiver. They were dark, ugly little things. "I do not know very much about these things, but it would seem that we have just so much blood to spare, and unless I was bitten by a snake and knew my blood to be poisoned, I would not give my blood to leeches." She smiled at him. "Your country needs yours more."

  Washington laughed. It was the first time in months that he had felt like laughing. "Morgan said you were outspoken." He leaned forward. "Tell me what would you propose I do?"

  She thought of the way Marwilda had treated John. And the way Maruska had taken care of her children. "Keep warm, eat well, pray a little. Apply poultices when you have a fever or infection." Lightly, she pushed the basin aside. "And do not give your blood away."

  Washington laughed aloud, and the room rang with the sound. With his free hand, he pried the leeches from his arm, placing them on the towel next to it. His arm looked terrible.

  Krystyna touched the place where the leeches had been. "It is not a good thing." The fat leeches wiggled on the towel next to his arm. "You are much too important to give away bit by bit to these horrible things. Here, drink." She handed him a cup of the tea that Morgan had managed to procure just before Washington's arrival.

  "Ah, a luxury." With an almost reverent air, Washington took the cup in both hands. "Do you know how long it's been since I have had tea served in a china cup?" He closed his eyes, savoring the aroma, and for a moment, the weariness seemed to fade from his face. He sighed as he took his first sip. "Approximately a hundred years ago. I wish this wretched war would come to an end so I could get back to my plantation. I fear things are not going well there. My poor wife has more than enough on her without that added to it. A woman shouldn't have to concern herself with monetary matters and crop production."

  Krystyna had expected more of him, but knew this was the way of the world. "A woman should be able to do anything that is necessary." With careful strokes, she wiped the bloodstains from Washington's arm.

  Washington watched her, amusement on his face. "Headstrong, I take it?" Her eyes met his for a moment, and he smiled. "Just like that new man, Kosciusko."

  The name was badly mispronounced, but it was close enough to make Krystyna's heart quicken. "Thaddeus?"

  What beautiful eyes she has, Washington thought. "Why yes, I believe that's his first name. He's a great friend to Tom Jefferson. At the moment, he's aiding General Greene somewhere in Virginia."

  "He is here?" she cried.

  Washington nodded, taking another sip of his tea. The way she said the man's name had Washington wondering if Kosciusko was her intended. And then he remembered what Morgan had told him about the woman. He put the pieces together. "I met him while I was conferring with General Greene. Your friend mentioned the great loss his country suffered with your father's death."

  "Then he knows?" How did he find out? she wondered. Does he know where I am? Will he come for me? Jason, her mind echoed. She shut her thoughts away, too confused to go on.

  "He knows a great many things, this young officer of yours." Krystyna didn't bother to correct him. It would do no good to protest that he was not hers, not after she had looked so flustered at the mention of his name. "His intelligence system told him of your father's murder just before he came to America to aid our cause. I shall tell him that you're well when I see him. Is there to be any other message?" he asked kindly. Rolling down his sleeve, he pulled the tray to him.

  Thoughts of home washed over her like a huge wave, bringing with them a yearning that took her breath away. She was filled with a fondness for the general. "Yes, please, if you would take a letter to him, I would be most grateful." Writing to someone from home would make her feel somehow less alone here.

  "I shall be delighted. I'll bring it to him on my way back, the war permitting. Hopefully, this conflict won't take forever, now that we've got fine soldiers from all over the world coming to our aid. Another one of your countrymen is establishing a cavalry for us, while Baron von Steuben is teaching our soldiers how to fire muskets." He laughed softly as he took another sip of tea. "In German yet. We undoubtedly have the most unorthodox army on the face of the earth. A commander who speaks his orders in German to a man who translates the command awkwardly three minutes later. Thank God Lafayette speaks English. And your Thad, too. We'll win," he said more to himself than to her. "We shall win." Abruptly, he realized that he'd been drifting. "Send young Jason to me, will you?"

  She promised she would and then left. As she went downstairs in search of Jason, she passed the library. A book flew by her head, just missing her. Savannah was screeching at Winthrop. He made an attempt to reply.

  "But there were two of them. How could I possibly — "

  "You could have tried, you miserable excuse for a man. Or were you planning to watch while they violated me?" Savannah demanded. She threw another book, and this one hit him squarely in the stomach, temporarily knocking the wind out of him.

  Winthrop saw Krystyna in the doorway and looked both angry and flustered at being observed. "She's having a tantrum," he mumbled, picking up the last book from the floor.

  Two more books flew in his direction, one hitting him in the shoulder. "Don't you make excuses for me, you worm, you worthless bundle of quivering flesh! Get out of my sight and out of my house!"

  Jeremiah appeared in the doorway, having anticipated this. He held out Winthrop's cloak and hat, his face devoid of expression.

  Krystyna stepped back as Savannah came to the doorway. "Run, you coward, run," Savannah taunted, her hands on her hips. There was fire and loathing in her eyes.

  As the front door slammed, she turned her attention to Krystyna. Her lips tightened. "Well, I suppose you expect me to grovel at your feet and humbly thank you," she said haughtily.

  "No," Krystyna said simply, the tone of her voice echoing Savannah's. "I expect very little from you. I would have done the same for anyone, including your slaves." Her eyes mirrored her distaste. "As a matter of fact, I would have preferred saving one of them." She turned and walked out of the room.

  Savannah ran after her and swung her around by the shoulder. "Don't you talk that way to me!"

  Krystyna's glance was colder than ice as she looked at the other woman. "I have been civil to you, which is more than you have to me. Why are you so afraid of me?"

  "Afraid?" Savannah echoed. "Are you out of your mind?"

  Krystyna removed the woman's hand from her shoulder. "Since I have come here, you have acted like a jealous lioness guarding her cubs and her domain. I assure you, I do not want anything of yours. I only want to go home."

  "Ha! You want my brother! And I won't have him allying himself with some foreign upstart — "

  "That is for your brother to decide, not you," Krystyna told her firmly. "You have the tongue of a peasant shrew. And were I but a shepherdess —which I am not —and you the daughter of a king —which you are not —I would still be better than you, for my heart can feel and bleed for people while yours is stone and reflects only your frivolous whims."

  With that, she left. Savannah stormed out of the library and slammed the door behind her.

  Krystyna didn't have time to think of Savannah. Thaddeus was in Virginia. True to his word, he'd come to the "new world." She understood his delay in seeking her out. She wasn't vain enough to believe that he would drop everything just to find her. She was a family friend, and he had a commitment to honor, one of which she had had no idea.

  Helping the Americans gain freedom. How like him. Thaddeus, always a champion of freedom, had espoused it for his homeland. But time was not yet ripe to unite the Poles in an effort to throw off their shackles and renounce the foreign powers who sullied their shores.

  Would that be so different from what was happening here? True, the Americans wer
en't suffering the way the people were back home. The British were rather polite in their warfare, just as they had been in their domination. That wasn't the way of it in Poland.

  Soon, she told herself, soon this will all be over. She wished the Americans well, even sympathized with them, but her heart didn't belong here. She was out of her element. Savannah had reminded her of that.

  Suddenly, she felt a pang as she visualized the journey back — the journey that would take her home and away from Jason.

  She did not hear Jason as he came up behind her.

  "Are you all right?"

  She swung around, surprised. "Yes, why should I not be?" She wondered if her thoughts were evident on her face.

  He had just gotten back from the fields. Savannah's screams had greeted him upon entering through the back door, "We could hear Savannah screaming throughout the whole house. What did you do to her?" Whatever it was, he was certain that his sister had more than deserved it.

  Krystyna shrugged. "I saved her honor, such as it is."

  He hadn't expected to hear this. "Would you care to explain that?" Jason opened the front door, and they walked together to her cabin.

  "Two of the soldiers did not know who she was, and they tried to take liberties. I was in the library when I overheard them. I took the musket that was hanging over the fireplace—"

  Jason laughed, picturing the sight. "And you held off two of our brave soldiers with an empty musket?"

  She shrugged, returning his smile. "They did not know it was empty. They meant no harm, I suppose. They were just lonely, and she is very, very pretty.

  "Just on the surface, I'm afraid. You were kinder to her than she would ever be to you. Did she thank you?"

  It is beautiful today, she thought. Spring in the air, beckoning to summer. Where will I be this summer? And with whom? "I did not do it for thanks. I feared a worse incident would arise from that one."

  He saw through her words. "Then she didn't, did she?" He would have expected nothing else.

  Krystyna shook her head slowly.

  "Well, on behalf of my sister, I do thank you."

  "It is not necessary."

  They were standing in front of her cabin by now. Jason took hold of her shoulders. "Damn it, woman, is it so hard for you to accept our thanks? Will you come off your high horse and let us be grateful to you? I admit that Savannah is a rude little bitch, but the rest of us like you. You've made a world of difference in all of our lives. Christopher adores you. You've even won over my father, and we all know what a crusty old bastard he is. You've changed Lucinda and, by doing so, virtually put an end to Aaron's desire to womanize. God knows you've ended mine," he said softly as he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.

  Krystyna felt that familiar feeling rush through her as his fingertips touched her lips. She tried to memorize his face as it looked at that moment, with the sun upon it.

  "I don't like fighting with you — unless it leads to making up. Are you hiding another British soldier in your cabin, or can I come in?" His eyes were already making love to her. And then he kissed her forehead softly, his lips savoring the sweet taste of her skin.

  "No, no soldiers." Her yearning rose, but then she remembered that Washington had asked for him. "But the general expressed a wish to see you."

  "Right away?" He nipped the tender skin at her throat.

  She didn't want him to leave. She wanted him to stay, to make love to her until there were no more doubts, no more thoughts. But honor made her tell the truth. "Yes."

  He forced himself to release her. "I'll be back."

  Krystyna watched him go and sighed. Thaddeus was in America. In Virginia. Why wasn't she more excited by the news? Could it be that she no longer wanted to be rescued? She had no answer for that, and she went inside.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  There was a great deal on Jason's mind after he finished conferring with Washington, but he put his thoughts aside and strode toward Savannah's room. He intended to have a talk with his petulant, infuriating sister. He wanted to know if she was all right, and if there were no ill effects due to the unsavory incident, he wanted to box her ears and give her a lesson in good manners, if the latter was possible.

  Savannah's riding habit was lying in a heap on the floor. Having literally ripped it from her body, she had cast it off in a fit of temper, never wanting to lay eyes on it again, and she had just put on another gown, her mood vile, her body servant's fingers shaking while finishing lacing it up.

  "Go! Get away!" Savannah cried as she whirled around. The slight woman needed no further encouragement to flee Savannah's black mood.

  Still needing to vent her rage, Savannah threw a figurine against the door and watched it break into a hundred tiny slivers. That didn't make her feel any better.

  Damn.

  She was in that upstart's debt. No matter what the woman said, Savannah was beholden to her, and she hated it.

  Using the door as a shield, Jason peered into Savannah's room. "I see your arm wasn't injured." Any concern he had harbored about Savannah was quickly put to rest. She was obviously unharmed and in her usual form.

  She glared at her brother. "It is customary to knock when entering a lady's room."

  The pieces of the figurine crunched beneath his boot as he walked in. "Fine. When you become one, I'll knock."

  In a temper, she was looking for an object to attack, and Jason was swiftly becoming a prime target. "And just what do you mean by that?" she snapped. She snatched a hairbrush from her bureau.

  But Jason was quick. Seizing her wrist, he tightened his hold until she was dropped the brush on her bed. "That you're behaving like a rude, spoiled child and that it's about time you grew up."

  Her eyes narrowed into small gray slits. "Oh? Is this about your little whore?" she challenged. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing with her!" Savannah saw the color rise in Jason's face, and she suddenly became afraid that she had pushed him too far.

  Jason grabbed her by the shoulder, and she winced. "You're hurting me," she yelped.

  Forcing his temper under control, Jason loosened his grip. "I’ll hurt you a lot more if you don't cease your ill-mannered, shrewish remarks."

  She looked at him petulantly, rubbing her shoulder. "Well, it's true," she pouted.

  "The term for Krystyna is 'lady,' not whore. If you want an example of a whore, just look to Charity."

  Savannah's defenses came to the fore, primed to protect one of her own kind, lest the stain spread. "What Charity did was out of love —"

  He laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. He had never been fooled by Charity, not even in the beginning. "And did she love so many other men? Was it all out of love?"

  Savannah tossed her head as she backed away, putting distance between herself and her brother. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

  Her expression told him that she understood his meaning quite well. He had no doubts that Charity had kept her younger, far more inexperienced friend informed of all the intimate details. "Oh, I think you do. But I'm not here to discuss Charity. I'm free of her and it's done with." He picked up the torn jacket and eyed it. Had the incident been more serious than Krystyna had intimated. "Krystyna just saved your so-called honor — "

  Savannah flew at him, just as she had at Winthrop. But one look from Jason had her dropping her raised hands. "Are you implying that I ever — ?"

  "No." He covered her fist with his hand. "I'm not implying that you're anything like Charity. But what I am saying is that your potbellied beau just stood there while —"

  "They had a pistol pointed at him," she interjected. It was perverseness that caused her to defend Winthrop. Because Jason had come to champion that woman, Savannah had taken Winthrop's side.

  "Would you have accepted that as an excuse if they had raped you?"

  She looked away. The silence between them swelled.

  "Well, would you?" he persisted.

  "No," she conceded, her voice low.


  He placed his hands on her shoulders. The action was gentle, but firm. "And had Krystyna not intervened and Winthrop's courage not returned — not that he ever has any except when it comes to challenging mountains of food — then, my dear sister, you would have been 'deflowered.' " Humiliation rose in her eyes, but Jason wouldn't allow his kinder instincts to prevent him from continuing: "And there are many men, my sweet, who would have shunned you like the plague once the news got out. Including, I am sure, Winthrop. Don't you think you should at least thank her?"

  Savannah pressed her lips together stubbornly. "What did she do, come crying to you?"

  "Krystyna does not come to me for anything." Would that she did, he thought. It would make the relationship easier for him. But there was nothing ordinary, nothing predictable about the woman. And that fascinated and frustrated him all at the same time.

  "Then why are you so concerned with my actions toward a ... a foreigner?" That hadn't been what she wanted to call Krystyna. Savannah had held back that word at the last moment.

  Jason was tired of her parading her station in life. "And what are you, my dear? An Irish-Welsh peasant one generation removed," Jason reminded her.

  Savannah pulled her shoulders back. "Father is an honorable man — "

  "No one is questioning that." Although he wondered what her evaluation of their father would be if she knew of Morgan's secret dealings and of his pact with Washington. "But he is the son of a peasant — and a foreigner. We all are at one level or another, dear heart, except for the Indians and I'm sure you would object to my consorting with an Indian and planning to marry her."

  Savannah looked at him in horror. "Are you?"

  He saw no reason for the expression on her face. "What, consorting with an Indian?"

  She stamped her foot. "No, planning to marry that . . . that . . ." Words failed her.

  Jason shrugged. He honestly had no answer. "I don't know. But if I am, you will have nothing to say about the matter." He was tired of trading words with his sister. She was a stubborn, empty-headed child and he didn't know why he even cared about her. "And you will treat her with the respect she deserves, let alone has earned. Or the next time, I'll make her leave you to the dogs."