So Rare a Gift (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 3)

by Amber Lynn Perry

  “William?”

  He stopped in the doorway, half of him wanting to return to the painful but bewitching thoughts, the other wanting nothing more than to run to higher ground. “Aye?”

  “Do you think…do you think we will be safe here?”

  Like a flood, every other worry escaped in his next breath, replaced by the sting of shame. These were the thoughts that consumed her. How selfish could he be?

  Fighting the instant battle to stay by the door, or risk nearness by comforting her, he remained motionless. He ground his teeth. He should go to her, take her hand at least and speak the reassuring words at her side.

  But he couldn’t.

  “We shall be,” he said from the safety of the doorway. “I promise.”

  The answer brought a smile to her face and loosed the tight knot of her fingers that clutched her skirt, if only a little. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and escaped the house before the warning drums could beat him into submission. He’d let the lie live.

  For he knew, as well as he knew the sun would rise in the morning, they would be found. It wasn’t a matter of if—it was a matter of when.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Captain Stockton?”

  The call came from behind and Paul pivoted away from the soldier beside him to see a young errand boy hurrying toward him. His boyish cheeks were red from heat. Sweat dotted his forehead. “Major Stockton has asked for you, sir.”

  Paul returned the musket to the new recruit he’d been assisting and turned to the adolescent.

  “I’m sorry?” He must have misheard. Ezra was traveling to Boston and not expected back within the month. “You must have me mistaken with someone else.”

  “Forgive me, sir, but I know exactly who you are, and who your father is.” The boy, far more confident than Paul had been at his age, motioned behind him. “He’s waiting in the drawing room of the officer’s quarters.”

  Blast it. A low, guttural groan rumbled in Paul’s throat. “I’ll be there presently.”

  The boy hustled away, wiping his sleeve against his hairline as he rounded the corner. Paul leaned his head back and gazed heavenward. Of all the times to be discovered. When Richards had requested he stay on another two weeks to train the new arrivals from England, he’d been only too pleased to assist him and procrastinate his transport to Virginia. Paul rested his palm against the sword at his side and intentionally slowed his step. The heat in his chest matched the heat of the early-autumn sun. If only he’d had a few more days. The woman he’d hired to carry the message had surely made it to Barrik by now. He need only wait a few days longer.

  Paul swore under his breath as he turned the knob and went into the house. To the right, the drawing room—and his fate. The boy looked in the direction of the open door and motioned with his eyes for Paul to enter. His spine went rigid as it did every time he was forced to encounter the man whose name he carried.

  “Why are you not in Williamsburg?” Stockton whirled as Paul crossed the shadow of the doorway. Venom seeped from his father’s eyes. “Close the door.”

  Paul obeyed then stood at attention. His newly cleaned coat and freshly polished scabbard dimmed in the light of Ezra’s scrutiny. “I can see you’ve taken pains to clean yourself up. Did you think it would soften my anger when I discovered your infraction?”

  “You always told me a soldier must look the part as well as play it, did you not?”

  Stuffing his pipe, Ezra refused to look up, that ever-present undercurrent of disgust sitting heavy in his voice. “Pray, tell me why you would do something so foolish as to go against my orders?”

  Face forward, Paul didn’t measure the words before he spoke them. “I thought you were supposed to be in Boston.”

  Ezra looked up, his face red. “My affairs are none of your concern.” He stared, his expression bleeding hate. “Why are you not on your way to Virginia?”

  Paul straightened. How much longer must he be forced to answer for his actions when everyone above him needn’t? “I stayed behind to help Richards. He requested that I assist in training the new men in his regiment and since my assignment was—”

  “That was not for him to request and certainly not for you to accept!” Ezra slammed his pipe on the table. Slowly, the red color slipped from his cheeks and his tone evened. “My trip to Boston was altered when we discovered that the patriots are smuggling goods to the few civilians still inside the city.” He stood and walked to the other side of his desk. “I’ve returned to prepare the regiment for deployment on the frigate Braynwaithe with the mission to block off all means of travel by ocean and bring to justice any and all who go against the wishes of the crown.”

  At last. A chance to prove himself. Paul stood taller. “When will we make ready?”

  Ezra’s eyes flashed black while his body remained motionless. “We will not make ready.”

  Paul scowled in question. “If the regiment is preparing for—”

  “I will make ready.” Ezra rounded the desk, finger extended to Paul’s shoulder. “Remove your epaulette.”

  No.

  Paul’s hand went to his sword and he stepped back. “You would not.”

  “Don’t act the fool.” Ezra’s eye twitched. “You never learned, son. I hoped I would not have to do this, but I am forced to remove you from your position.”

  Reeling back from the sudden revolt in his gut, a bitter laugh burst from Paul’s throat. “Never learned what? I have done what should have been done but you never had the—”

  “It was never your place to resolve what must be done.” The small lines around Ezra’s mouth deepened as he once again pointed to the indication of Paul’s station that decorated his coat. “Those that lead others into battle must be worthy of their rank.”

  “And I am not?”

  Ezra inclined his head, hate in his eyes. “Your epaulette, Lieutenant.”

  “No.” Paul barreled forward, pointing a rigid finger at his father’s chest. “I’ve made one mistake. One! Yet you allow Donaldson to go free when he’s betrayed the crown?”

  “You’re obsessed.”

  “Obsessed to prove that I am right and you are wrong.”

  “I will hear no more of this.”

  Rage, thick and hot, singed Paul from the inside and he refused to release his father from the heat of his gaze. “I will not be treated as lower when there are far greater failures than I and their situations were bought or granted by connections.”

  Ezra straightened, his broad shoulders not as intimidating as he may have hoped. “I wanted to grant you more, but you continually disobey and I cannot offer anyone something for which I believe they are unworthy.”

  “Unworthy?” Paul leaned into his words, inches from Ezra’s face. “I have worked my way to this rank and I will work my way higher. I will prove to this army that I stand by my claim to uphold the crown no matter what you say about it!” He whirled and marched to the door. “I will do what needs to be done and I will not be stopped.”

  Ezra called from behind him. “If you pursue this course you are no longer my son!”

  Paul stopped just as his fingers gripped the handle. His father meant to injure with those words, but instead they inspired. Gripping the handle hard enough to leave the prints of his hands, he spoke over his shoulder. “So be it.”

  Charging from the room, Paul marched from the house, his boots afire. Once in the street, he raced to the road that led out of town. Flinging a look behind him to be sure he wasn’t followed, he ran to the safety of the trees.

  In the shadows he yanked off his hat and unbuttoned his coat, eager to be rid of the vestiges of his misery. He dropped the sword and bayonet, his chest pumping and hands sweating. Here he would do it. Here he would leave behind all he’d known and prove to himself, if to none other, that he could do and would do the very thing no one believe him capable of.

  If that woman couldn’t find Barrik, so be it. The man didn’t have his soul invested in the hu
nt like Paul did.

  Donaldson was his alone to find, and his to bring to justice.

  ~~~

  The occasional pop of a log burning in the fireplace was the only sound. Anna sat at the kitchen table on one side, William at the other, his elbows on his knees as he polished the grip of his pistol. The clock had long ago struck ten o’clock and the sky was draped in black, yet sleep was miles from her mind.

  She twisted the ring on her finger over and over, staring at the fire and straining against the deafening silence. They’d managed to stay an easy distance from one another during the day, but after finishing the supper Kitty and Nathaniel had dropped by as a warming present for their new home, they’d had nothing else to do but be near one another and talk. And avoid the topic that Anna could only assume consumed both their minds, but which neither wished to discuss.

  The marriage bed.

  Should she say something? Casting a quick look to him, she endeavored to surmise the distant look on his stoic face. Was he waiting for her to announce she was ready to retire? If she did, would he assume she meant more than simply sleeping?

  Nay. Silly notion.

  Thick tendrils of reality wound around her neck. Then again, she had been married before—though not, she supposed, the kind of marriage William believed it had been—and perhaps thought she expected?

  Her palms began to sweat, and she rubbed them against her stomach both to erase the wetness and calm the rise of butterflies. The fire popped again and her nerves popped with it. They’d shared a bed at the Watson’s and though the awkwardness had thrived, their new arrangement launched her disquiet to unchartered seas.

  The droning tick of the clock grew louder with each minute that passed. She spied in his direction, hoping she could skirt her eyes away before being seen, but it was too late. Their eyes met and she turned away, scrambling to gather her emotions that scattered like a set of children’s marbles.

  He sat back, placing his pistol on the table beside him. “I suppose we ought to retire.” William’s rich timbre spilled through the air and brought a warm prickle to her skin.

  Anna gripped the arms of the chair and pushed to her feet, praying her legs would perform their duty. Once sure of her stability, she reached for her bag that rested on the table. “Aye, of course.” Her voice came out high and pinched.

  William stood as well and motioned to the bedchamber door at the side of the fireplace. She tried to remember how to walk. Oh, that was it—a simple left right, left right. So why did the elementary task take outrageous amounts of concentration?

  At the door, William stopped her with a hand on her elbow. “Anna.” His eyes were pointed and his tone deep.

  She answered only with a tight smile to let him know she listened.

  “I would have you know that I do not expect anything from you.”

  She tilted her head. Did he mean what she thought he did?

  Either she uttered the question aloud, or her expression spoke for her, for he answered immediately. “Since we are still not more than strangers, though we’ve spoken vows, we need not…we don’t…” He stopped and cleared his throat.

  Relief flooded and Anna’s once-liquid knees found their strength. She gripped her fingers around the top of her bag and squeezed, releasing the anxieties into the fabric. She offered a smile, unsure quite how to respond. “That sounds…fine.”

  “Though, I fear this is the only bed.” He paused, his brow twitching ever so slight. “You are comfortable sharing, are you not?”

  No. Yes.

  Her mind bounced back and forth between her emotions. Nothing could be less comfortable. Being so close to him—someone so deathly handsome and gallant—she would hardly sleep. No different from the previous nights. Yet, for those same reasons—and because he was brave and genuine and kind—nothing could be more natural in the world than sharing a bed with such a man, when such a man was her husband.

  She swallowed and nodded. “I am.”

  He made a slow bob of the head, his gaze seeming to gauge whether she spoke true. After a quick blink he pushed open the door and Anna entered. The lovely, vibrant quilt draped over the bed, two large pillows propped at the headboard. Other than the bed, a small chest of drawers, and a writing table the room was bare. No art on the walls, nor paper or paint.

  “What do you think of it?” William entered behind her, bringing the light of the candle.

  Once illuminated, the room cheered, and so did Anna, though pride brought to mind her bedchamber in England. The large feather bed and perfectly soft bed sheets, the large curtained windows and armoire for her gowns. She flicked away the memory and grounded herself in the present. What this simple home lacked in opulence, it made up for in things that mattered.

  A folded paper at the head of the bed caught her attention and she went to retrieve it as William placed the candle on the writing table at the side of the bed.

  She cracked the seal and read silently at first. “Oh, ’tis from the Watsons.” She read aloud. “May this quilt be with you throughout your many years together. Thomas and Eliza.”

  Turning, she jumped at William’s closeness. Had he been reading over her shoulder? Or had he simply wished to be close to her? She scolded herself for the last thought. But it couldn’t be helped. The musky scent of him, the way he stared down, his eyes trailing her face, made every bit of her attention converge on him.

  “I knew they’d been by,” he said, stepping back and moving to the other side of the bed, “but I hadn’t known they’d left a wedding gift.” He sat and began removing his boots. “You will never find more genuine people.”

  Anna retreated a step, resting the note beside the candle. “I must agree I have never met people as kind as they.”

  He stood and removed his jacket and waistcoat, retiring them to the top drawer of the dresser. Anna’s face heated at the sight of his muscles so visible under his shirt. The past nights he’d slept in shirt and breeches, for her comfort, she surmised. Would he allow himself more ease now?

  Pulling back the quilt and sheet, he paused. “Would you like help with your stays?”

  The question socked the wind from her lungs. He gazed at her from across the room, his expression so unaffected he could easily have asked if she would blow out the candle. Though it had nearly made sleep impossible, she’d refused the urge to remove them since their wedding—excepting the times she’d washed—to keep her curves well reserved.

  She licked her lips and tried to find the strength to loose her tongue from the top of her mouth so she could respond. “Nay, I thank you. I can manage.”

  William nodded and lowered to his knees beside the bed. Anna froze. Was he praying? She dared not move while he clasped his fingers and closed his eyes. After what seemed like a quarter of an hour, but in truth must have been only a minute or more, he rose and crawled into bed.

  He rested his head on the pillow and offered her a wayward grin. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

  With that he turned aside and Anna’s lungs began to take in a bit more air, but still only a thread. Why did his nearness do such curious things to her?

  She rested her bag on the writing table and began to unfasten her bodice and petticoat, careful not to make a sound. Ears strained, Anna struggled to hear whether William’s breathing had grown soft and deep as in the nights past, indicating he slept. Aye, there it was, that slow in and out.

  Fussing with the stays, she craned her arms behind her and found the knot, untying with ease and pulling the lace through the first few holes. Eliza must have pulled them extra tight that morning. A quiet groan escaped her throat before she could stop it and she held her breath, turning to glance at the bed. Thank heaven. He still slept.

  She rubbed her cramping shoulders before reaching back and trying again. The last few laces at the top eluded her, laughing, it seemed, with every failed attempt to loosen them. A light perspiration started on her brow, both from exertion and fear that he’d somehow awaken and come to
her aid. But her heart betrayed her.

  That is what you would like, is it not? She bantered back with a huff. Not in the least.

  “Stuck are you?”

  A high-pitched laugh popped from Anna’s throat and her muscles seized. She glanced over her shoulder, her arms still wrenched behind her. She did her best to strangle the distress in her voice. “I’ve nearly got it.”

  A knowing half-smile bloomed on his face as he peeled back the quilt and rose from the bed. “Here, let me help you.”

  Her skin burned even before he stood behind her. And when he did, his nearness turned her blood to fire. Thank heaven for her linen chemise, so she needn’t feel completely exposed. For even though her skin was mostly covered, she had never felt more bare.

  A spray of gooseflesh covered her skin when his calloused fingers brushed the tender place between her shoulder blades. Her lungs started again, working so hard she knew he could hear. She commanded them to calm. They refused.

  “How do I…?” William paused and she peered behind to see his hands hovering just over the laces she couldn’t reach. He released a light laugh. “Is there a proper way to do it?”

  A smile twitched at her lips. He was nervous? The notion eased her own anxieties whether or not ’twas true.

  She forced a calm depth to her voice. “There is no proper way. However you do it will be fine.”

  He cleared his throat and once again she felt his fingers on her skin. “Simple enough.”

  Anna trained her vision on the candle’s yellow flame and forced her pulse to ease.

  “There,” he said, stepping back, his low resonating tone circling her like silken ribbon. “I hope that’s helpful.”

  She pressed the loosened garment to her chest and turned to speak over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and moved again to the bed, never once looking back as he at last retired.

  Anna sat on the edge of the bed, soothing her frantic breath as one would a frightened child. She only needed a few moments. Once he slept she could easily crawl under the sheets and…