With a mocking bow, the soldier stepped backward. “As you wish.” He straightened and suddenly stopped, the hatred in his face morphing to question. His voice dropped. “I know you.” ’Twas more a query than a statement.
William scanned his memory. Though he had been familiar with the 47th regiment, he’d never served anywhere but under Martin and Stockton. How could the man possibly know him?
William ground his teeth. It didn’t matter why or how. It mattered that he did.
The redcoat’s forehead wrinkled. “I know your face.” He stepped nearer, his eyes thinning. “Aye. I have seen you before. But I cannot place it.”
A lie sprung to William’s mouth. “My brother fought and died at Lexington.”
The soldier quirked a brow. “Rebellion runs in the family, does it?”
“Nay, he was a redcoat. Like you. He fought under Smith. We were often mistaken for one another…”
Lord, let him believe this falsehood. If not for me, for Anna.
The soldier stepped forward, lips prepared to speak when a voice called through the wood.
“Pryer?”
The man turned as another soldier joined them. William’s inner call to battle drummed his pulse to a pace he’d rarely known.
“You are needed back at camp.” The soldier looked between William and Anna then back to Pryer. “Is there a problem?”
Pryer’s eyes thinned. William’s muscles bulged as his blood consumed his limbs. The soldier had nothing to prove, but that did not always stop them from making examples of those they disliked.
Pryer answered flat. “Nothing more than a patriot and his wife.”
“Good.” The other soldier motioned behind him. “Stockton has need of you. Now.”
Stockton? Which Stockton?
William walked toward Anna, feigning ignorance though within a thunder of cannon fire exploded.
Pryer glared and stepped backward, silent, before turning to walk the way he’d come when suddenly he stopped and spoke over his shoulder. “Do not allow yourself to get casual, patriot. We are watching. Always.”
~~~
Anna gripped her skirt to keep her hands from shaking as she flicked her gaze from the retreating soldier to her husband. Never had she witnessed William’s face become so red and his biceps flex so hard beneath his shirt.
He rushed near and took her arm. “Come, wife.” Snatching the basket, he led her back to the house. “We have much to do before sunset.”
Anna berated her ignorance. The soldier could still be watching, listening. She did her best to squeeze the lingering panic from her arms and legs. “I hope I gathered enough nettle.” Anna peered around him at the basket. “Kitty shared a recipe that I should like to try.” She felt the heat go to her cheeks. “It seems simple enough for one with so few skills in the kitchen.”
William glanced down as they reached the edge of the wood. His eyes were still rimmed with concern, but the deep blue centers were tender. “You under estimate yourself.”
“If only that were true.”
They continued their walk in silence and soon entered the house. Anna went to the table and placed the basket beside the chair. William closed the door.
“Tell me,” she said, removing her gloves. “Was all that true?” She turned to face him. “About your brother—did he really die at Lexington?”
William removed his hat and greatcoat, hanging them on the peg by the door. He raked his fingers over his head and pressed out an audible sigh. Finally, he met her gaze. “Nay.” He went to the fireplace and crouched to add another log. “I needed him to leave, so I said what was necessary. Then, of course, the other soldier arrived and saved us from further scrutiny.”
“You lied.”
He craned his neck. “You disapprove?”
She smiled and dumped the nettle in an empty wooden bowl. “I can hardly find reason to reprimand when you came to my rescue. A second time.”
He pushed up from his haunches, a handsome half-smile on his mouth and started to step past, but she grabbed his arm.
“I know you didn’t follow me.” A quick breath gave her the strength to speak the question. “What were you doing there?”
William blinked, his mouth tightening. “There are some things that are best left unspoken.”
Releasing her hand from his arm he started for the door. “I must check the garden.”
“You were smuggling.”
He stopped mid-step and glanced over his shoulder. “You cannot know that, Anna.”
“I do.”
William’s eyebrows plunged to his nose.
Anna summoned her courage and rounded the table. “Why will you not confide in me?”
“I know not of what you speak.”
“Please, William. I’ve heard Eliza and Kitty whisper things about their husbands helping to bring goods to Boston.” She knew her husband did the same, but waited, silently hoping, praying he would confide in her as Thomas and Nathaniel had done with their wives. “I should like to hear from you if you are doing the same.”
His gaze searched her face, as if he were looking for something that could tell him he could trust her. Could he not see it in her eyes?
The silence stretched long between them. Each remained motionless, waiting for the other to speak or touch or move.
William stared, his mouth hard. “There are things we must be willing to risk for a cause that is just.”
“And you are willing to take that risk?”
“I am.”
The truth socked her in the stomach, stealing the air from her lungs. Then he would both tell her, and not. Why she was shocked, she couldn’t tell. Yet she was. “You are a man of secrets. Yet I know enough about you to know that there is a past you wish to keep hidden. I hardly think engaging in treasonous actions is wise especially if you hope to keep the life we’ve started.”
He closed his eyes and rubbed his head before dropping his arm to his side. His gaze was strained but his tone remained even. “I know the risks.”
“Then why take them?”
“There are things—”
“If any of you are imprisoned, what will become of the rest of us?” Her throat began to thicken. “Do you not see where your actions will lead?”
The glimmer of patience snuffed from his eyes. “I see more than you do, Anna.”
“You do not see what I see.”
“I see more.”
“You think that I am closed. That I do not think past tomorrow?”
“I think your fear of being discovered clouds every other thought.”
The truth cut. She spun her back to him. Was her fear so wrong? The knowledge that at any moment that man—or any other man her father hired—could take her back to England, threatened to extinguish the very breath in her lungs.
A warm hand on her arm made her flinch until his thumb began tracing small circles on her skin. “I promise that you will not be found.” The silken ribbon of his voice twined around her. “I know very well the risks. All of them. And the risks of acting outweigh the temporary safety of not.”
She turned, and his hand traveled the length of her waist, gripping her other arm as she stared up at him. “You are not afraid?” she asked.
A brief chuckle passed his lips. “I would be a fool not to have some healthy trepidation.”
Anna reached for her throat but her fingers found only skin, not the ring and chain. She closed her eyes, remembering the ring now rested on her finger. She stroked the gold with her thumb and spoke to the floor.
“How do you do it?”
His reply came after a few breaths. “Do what?”
Grasping for her remaining courage, she forced her head up and met his eyes. “How can you continue on…when you could lose so much?”
The soft lines around his eyes deepened, as did his voice. “I do not think of what can be lost.” He reached for the hair at her ear and brushed it back. “I think of what can be won.”
Her vis
ion misted as his words etched in her mind. What can be won. The quiet rush of their breath, the only sound, rustled the air between them and smeared ignorance from her face to her feet. How foolish she was. How low and self-centered.
Shame made her drop her gaze. But what could be won? Was helping those in Boston truly worthy of such a risk? Were there not others who could do the same? Others closer and more able?
“Anna.” His rich timbre, smooth and draped with caring, urged her to look at him. “I had no brothers. I did have sisters.”
This brought her head and eyebrows up.
The way his smile rounded, the way his breath went heavy, told Anna he spoke the truth. The pain he tried to mask behind his eyes whispered of loss. She released her arms and pulled the chair beside her, then sat. “They are passed.”
Looking down, his neck flexed and his jaw ticked. “My father died of the pox—we were all taken with it.” He pulled his bottom lip through his teeth. “The rest of us recovered, but Mother and Julia and Jane were not quite themselves again, though I never heard a word of complaint from them.”
Anna stared, fearing if she spoke or even breathed aloud, he would cease sharing this precious revelation.
He peered at her, moving his eyes only. She offered a small smile to urge him onward.
A large sigh heaved from him. “They mended clothes and I worked at the smithy.” His eyes lowered once again, and Anna gripped her hands at her lap to keep from reaching for him. “We had but little, and what means acquired were enough to keep us alive.”
Enough to keep alive? She had never known such poverty.
His throat bobbed and his voice scraped the floor at her feet. “But they are gone now, and though I would gladly have gone in their stead I am left to mourn the loss of them until ’tis my turn to breathe my last.”
Unable to stop herself, Anna reached for his rounded fist, and stroked his skin. His eyes shifted to hers.
“I am so, so sorry.” She could not fully flood the words with the emotion that welled within her. “I know that loss. It is consuming.”
He said nothing, but his eyes remained locked on hers as she stood.
“It grieves me that you should so keenly suffer at the memory of them,” she said. “I feel the loss of my mother and brother with every sunrise, every sunset.” She glanced down, weighing the sudden words that rose to her lips. Pushing aside the thread of resistance, she spoke. “I will strive ever harder to make your days joyful. You were the first person to show true kindness to me since their passing. Despite our secrets, despite everything, I am happy, so happy, to be your wife, William.”
Once her lips stopped moving, her skin went hot and pricked. She waited. Would he speak? But he said nothing. Her heart, full and raw, rested with its center to the sky. Did he feel the same? The truth bobbed between them like a rowboat on a choppy sea, ready at any moment to capsize and plummet to the rocky bottom.
Regret began its way up her back. Oh why hadn’t she kept such things safe? For now, he would either feel obligated to profess the same, or would be awkward in her presence or—
In a single swift motion he lifted her chin and descended, pressing his lips over hers, so warm, so gentle. So wanting. Tingles of pleasure trailed down her skin as he nudged her mouth apart, his hands cupping and angling her head to more fully accept him. She couldn’t breathe, her limbs weightless. The floor melted away and she reached for him, gripping his chest to keep from falling. Never had she felt such burning—a deep powerful yearning to be one—to feel this way again and again and be his unyielding companion until the end of her days.
Was this love? Did he love her? Did she love him? The thought nearly made her pull away, but he held tight, his hands trailing up her back and into her hair, tasting more of her. She surrendered, tilting her head back as he trailed hot kisses along her neck. ’Twas good, was it not? ’Twas more than good. ’Twas natural. As husband and wife, this kind of longing would make them as one, would bring children into the world.
With a gasp she pushed away, her breath heaving. She brought a hand to her lips, feeling the warmth where his mouth had been.
“Did I frighten you? I’m sorry.” His heady tone kneaded the air between them.
“Nay, you did not.” She swallowed and glanced up, her heart pounding, pleading to finish what they’d begun. The sight of his own mouth, red and glistening, made her long to feel his lips against her skin once more. The truth dragged at her spirit and she looked away. Tears threatened, but she pressed them back. “I…there is something…something I…”
“What?”
Her breath came in quick, sharp bursts. Lord help me. She had better speak quickly and end the agony. She opened her mouth then snapped it shut. What would he say? He could leave her, could he not? For not disclosing the truth of her barren womb?
“Anna, what is it?” He neared, crooking a finger around her chin and nudging her face forward. His eyes, large pools of tender blue, swam with longing. “Tell me.”
She bit her lip and scrunched her eyes before finding the strength to form the words on her tongue. Once she did, they came fast and pinched with grief. “I cannot bear children.”
~~~
William stared at her mouth, blinking to clear his clouded vision. He breathed in deep to make way for any other thought than that of taking her in his arms once more, to test his lips against her silken skin and press her femininity against his chest.
And though he wished to, he could not.
I cannot bear children.
The words spoken seconds ago floated on the air and drifted to the floor like feathers, allowing him time to follow them down to his feet and stare in quiet disbelief. Had he heard her correctly? He lifted his eyes to hers and his chest went tight. The agony in her sweet face brought his arms around her before he knew next what to do or what to say.
He cradled her against him, and there, as if in the safety of his embrace she could finally be free, she wept as if years of pain over the loss of something she wanted and could never have was suddenly brought from its grave, still fleshy and pink with life—not long since dead as it should have been.
His chest constricted and he held her tighter. So, she had no child from her first marriage because she could not have a child. He had only given a fleeting thought to the question of any children she may have had, as he understood there was much he didn’t know of her past. But here was the tormenting answer.
He stroked her hair, memorizing the soft curve of her head as he listened to her choppy breathing and muted cries. Her arms gripped his back and clung to him as if he could relieve the pain within. He cooed in her ear, continuing to sweep his hand over her head and back.
No children? His chest pricked. Never to have a child of his own? Never to hold a babe in his arms, to care for him—or her—to laugh with, love, and train up into maturity? He stopped his stroking and wound his arms around her slight shoulders. Marriage was divine. Though they would not have children, if they could truly love each other, and spend their lives in each other’s service then they would achieve in marriage what so many others never did. A life of love and joy. A life fuller than he’d ever imagined for himself.
She lowered her head and dotted her nose with her apron, then pulled away, keeping her head down. “I didn’t expect to make such a scene.” She sniffed and took another step back. “Forgive me.”
He reached for her cheek and moved his thumb against her skin, still wet from her tears. “There is nothing to forgive.”
Flecks of light brightened her pleading eyes. “You do not hate me for not telling you?”
“Hate you? I could not. Especially when such a thing is not of your doing. God is over all, is He not?” William neared, closing the growing distance between them. “I understood we both had much within—much that could not be spoken.” He trailed his vision around her face and down her neck, lingering on the throbbing pulse at her throat then down to where her neckline dammed her breast. His own pulse
jumped and he spoke to keep it from taking his mind to a place he wasn’t sure she—or he—was prepared to go. “I do not fault you.”
“You do not?” Her voice cracked, weakening his resolve to stay away.
Smoothing an arm around her waist, he closed the remaining gap between them, his body throbbing to fill the sudden void. Let me show you…
He lowered, dusting his lips atop hers, savoring the sound of her breath and the feel of her hands as they inched up his chest.
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, her mouth brushing his as she spoke.
He nuzzled her cheek and rested his lips against the tip of her ear when he answered. “Say nothing.”
A quick inhale made her chest rise and he could feel her skin prickle beneath his touch. Masculine pleasure surged and he continued on, leaving a trail of soft kisses along her neck and collarbone. She leaned her head back, imploring him to savor her more and he lost himself. Pulling her hard against him, he kissed her open mouth, consuming her with the sudden heat that roared between them. How long they stood there he knew not. How long before they moved upon the bed for their souls to finally and fully entwine, he cared not—only that they did. This moment, so intimate, so pure, so right, would live with him forever.
Anna’s dainty fingers cupped his face as she lay beside him beneath the quilt. She dotted a slow kiss on his mouth. “William…” Slowly, she stopped, her whispered words like a prayer. “I love you.”
’Twas then the reality crumbled like a rotted wall and the past loomed from his memory, ghostly and dark.
I love you, Henry. I’ll love you until the end of my days.
He clamped his eyes shut, but still the memory wailed. Father has died, Henry, and I have nothing. If I cannot pay the debts I shall be forced to leave for Germany by week’s end. Whatever shall we do? Help me, Henry, please.
“William?”
The quiet sound lifted him from the mire of the past, but his soul was left caked with it. He found her eyes and stared, searching for the same trust he’d seen in them before, seeking for the honest purity to which he’d been drawn. He stared, fighting the consuming battle that warred between his mind and spirit. This was Anna Fredericks, his wife, not the Anna Muhr of the past. This Anna was both gentle and strong as sunshine, resolute like a bud in spring. But what did he really know of her? This one painful secret she’d shared seemed so unfeigned, but how could he be sure she spoke true? Then again, how could he not and why should he doubt her?
So Rare a Gift (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 3) Page 22