by Lynn Hubbard
“It doesn’t sound as if you’re much of a fan.”
“I believe him to be quite mad. But he does have a very large army, with unlimited resources. I can’t imagine a different outcome.”
I can, Sarah said to herself.
“What of your family?” she asked him instead.
Tristan sighed. “My parents fled to London along with my brother’s wife.”
“And your brother?”
“My brother, the prestigious doctor, joined the army.”
“You must be quite proud of him,” Sarah said smiling broadly that he did not mention which army.
“I think he’s an idiot.”
They had just arrived at the British stables and Molly was easy to pick out. She was still eerily thin, but her mane and coat had been painstakingly brushed. She was greeted with a neigh. Tristan pulled a carrot from his coat and offered it to the mare.
Molly gently took it from his hand and ate it. “You do know how to get on people’s good side.”
He laughed. “I do, it’s staying there that I have problems with. Looks like she’s been through a lot,” he added, and Sarah wasn’t sure if he was referring to the horse or herself.
“Haven’t we all?” she replied softly. The events of the day had paid their toll and she was looking forward to a good night’s sleep.
“Some more than others,” he added, offering her a hand to help her mount.
“I’d rather walk.”
“As you wish,” he replied, bowing deeply.
She laughed in spite of herself and took his arm as they returned home. “How come you didn’t join the army?”
“Someone had to run the family business. What would come of things with no supply of silks and tea?”
“And weapons no doubt,” she added, her interest growing. The rebels were in desperate need of ships and he had a whole flock of them.
“You do not approve?” he asked. Most women who learned of his profession were even more enamored. British contractors were richly rewarded.
“In yard goods, no, but I would love to see your ships. I’ve never been on a boat before. When I was young my father would take us to visit the seashore. I remember the large ships on the horizon, their sails full and proud.”
“Well then, I will have to introduce you to the Sea Maiden.”
They arrived back home and settled Molly into a stall with fresh hay. Sarah patted her neck goodnight, unsure of both of their futures.
It didn’t seem quite right staying at Robert’s home. However she was on a mission. After all, what better place to gain knowledge than staying with a Colonel? The sky was darkening and she allowed Tristan to guide her along the pebbled path leading to the house. She stifled a yawn as the long day caught up to her.
“I need to get you upstairs into bed,” Tristan said huskily.
“Pardon?” Sarah asked in alarm.
“To your room of course. You must be exhausted.”
“I’ve had rougher days than this,” she replied, so softly that her words mingled with the wind.
Tristan frowned feeling somewhat protective over his new guest. She seemed so frail, yet he somehow knew that she was not.
Chapter 10 Not So Sweet Dreams
No one was about as they entered through the back door, and for that she was grateful. Tristan led her up the kitchen stairs and to the second floor landing. Everything was backwards from the way she had entered previously. Getting her bearings, she recognized Tristan’s door as they passed it. He went past the staircase and stopped in front of a set of double doors.
Sarah had never seen double doors before and watched carefully as he opened one. He bowed deeply and his eye twinkled at her. “Your room, Madame.”
Feeling as if she was in a dream, Sarah stepped into the large room. It was ornately decorated with hand woven tapestries lining the wall. A large bed was against the back wall and a sitting area was next to the fireplace.
“This is your parent’s room? I can’t stay in here.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t need all this.” She spun in a circle to emphasize as her hair fanned out about her.
“I do apologize, but the other rooms are taken. Unless…”
“Unless?”
“Unless you want to stay in my room.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed, “I am not some trollop! And if that was your incentive to offer me board I’d rather sleep on the street.”
Tristan’s smile quickly faded. “I meant no harm. Sometimes my tongue is faster than my brain. I was thrown from a horse as a child, been addled ever since.”
Sarah made the mistake of looking up at him. He had a pained expression on his face that reminded her of an abandoned dog she had found as a child. Their eyes locked and she noticed how much his eyes favored Robert. He was taller though, and his lips a bit fuller. Her breathing quickened and she turned away, miffed at her reaction.
“Your items are in the chest,” Tristan added with a motion of his hand. “If you need anything else. You know where to find me. Goodnight Sarah.” And with a nod, he was gone.
Sarah turned toward the fireplace, which had already been lit and stoked. She was warm, she was well fed and all she could do was pray for her friends who were not. Climbing into the bed, she soon sunk into a troubled sleep.
***
Sarah was surrounded by Redcoats. She twirled in a circle looking franticly for a way to escape. Her feet crunched on the frozen ground beneath them. Looking down she saw a red patch in the snow. She dropped to her knees and began digging with her hands. Her fingers were numb, but she only dug deeper. They soon touched flesh and she looked down into Silas’ dead eyes. A shadow crossed over her. It grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the pit.
With a gasp, she sat up in bed and discovered the hand on her arm belonged to Tristan. Her mind tried to make sense of it all. She looked up at him; the candle on the bedside table made it seem as if he was glowing. Concern clouded his face and he asked if she was all right.
She shook her head no, warm tears were overfilling her eyes and sliding down her cheek. She was pulled into strong arms and she let loose the emotions she had held in check for so long.
She let out all the anguish she had bottled up, for the loss of her home, her parents, Silas and all the men who had died before her eyes. She wanted to fix it, to set things right, for their deaths to be not in vain.
She was slightly aware of a large, warm hand rubbing her back and another cradling her head. Hot breath touched her cheek while he whispered soothing words into her ear.
Her other ear was pressed into his hard chest. The rhythmic tune of his heart was causing hers to flutter. She sniffed and pulled away, trying to gather up what poise she had left.
“I’m sorry, I must look horrid.” She sniffed, wiping her puffy eyes.
“You are lovely; are you alright? You were shouting.”
Sarah froze, her heart skipping a beat. How could she be so foolish?
“Wh-what was I saying?”
“You were calling for Silas.”
She closed her eyes in gratitude that she hadn’t been cursing the King. “Silas is my brother. His death still haunts me.”
“He died in the war?”
Sarah nodded, opening her eyes to look up at him. Some part of her realized that he was half dressed in a night shirt. Another part realized that he was on her bed.
“Then I insist on being your protector.”
He was so close, just a breath away. Sarah turned her head, her thoughts jumbled. She wanted to refuse. To shout out that she didn’t need anyone. But she didn’t have the strength, she felt safe in his house, in his arms. And it scared her to death.
“For now,” she agreed, leaving the future open.
He leaned toward her and she was a bit disappointed when his lips brushed her cheek.
“You need your rest,” he insisted, standing.
Sarah pulled the covers tightly around her and watched hi
m leave the room. With a sigh, she blew out the candle and lay back down to wait for morning.
Chapter 11 The Cruelness of Men
Tendrils of sunlight crept into the room as Sarah awoke. Images from last night slipped into her thoughts. She wasn’t sure what was real and what was dreamt. Rising, she stepped to the window to take in the morning view. She could see dozens of soldiers milling about with the town folk.
It made her sick inside to think of the men they killed. The ones they had ran through with bayonets even after surrendering.
Where her men were merchants, farmers and tradesmen: These were professional killers; they had been well trained in the art. She startled at a knock at the door.
“Breakfast ma’am,” Cecilia’s voice rang out cheerily.
Moving to the washbasin, she cleansed herself and then dressed in the same dress from yesterday. Hers had not appeared yet, and she was starting to worry that they had discarded the threadbare garment.
She unbraided her hair before brushing it out and tying it up into a bun. A few tendrils escaped and she hastily tucked them behind an ear. Stepping into the hallway, the scent of fried ham wafted up to her. Heading down the stairs, she grasped the balustrade and made her way to the dining room.
She was the last to arrive and was dismayed to see that they had a visitor. The good major; he kept popping up like a bad penny. She found herself seated next to him and wasn’t sure who was more annoyed, her or Tristan. The fact that Tristan seemed putout made her feel a little better. Brief introductions were made as breakfast was served.
“Miss Smith, Major Johnson has offered to take you on a tour of the city. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Sarah shoved a large piece of ham into her mouth. It gave her time to think. What a great opportunity to see the city from a soldier’s viewpoint; what information she could gather! Although in all practicality she doubted she would see much more than his bed. Point proven, he leaned toward her, placing his arm on the back of her chair. She swallowed and patted her mouth daintily. “Oh I am sure that a man as essential as the Major,”
“Please call me Randall,” the major interrupted.
“Well then, I’m sure Randall has many important duties to tend to instead of worrying over me.”
“Nonsense. I’m sure no one will miss him at all.” The Colonel chuckled, causing the major to frown. “I insist.”
“Well then,” Tristan said leaning forward, “for proprieties sake. I will gladly accompany you.”
“That would be splendid!” Sarah replied, taking another bite. She sipped at her milk and she heard what she would call a growl escape Major Johnson.
“But completely unnecessary! I believe my reputation stands on its own merit,” Randall added.
“Your reputation is well known, as Sarah’s keeper, I intend to make sure she is free from harm,” Tristan spat back.
“Gentlemen, enough!” the Colonel said, slamming his hand down on the table. “The day will be half over by the time you sort it out. Both of you will accompany Miss Smith. Good day,” he replied, leaving the room, with Ryan scurrying after him.
The two men glared at each other as Sarah took another bite. Pushing back her plate she addressed Tristan. “Ready?”
“Of course. I will have my stable hands….”
“Anticipating your decision, I have already procured a carriage,” Randall replied smartly, cutting Tristan off.
Sarah followed him halfheartedly out the front door. Tristan was right behind her. She stopped short upon spying the carriage parked out front. It had only one seat and Sarah eyed it wearily. There was barely room for two, much less three.
“Is this it?” she asked, looking down the street hopefully for a larger one.
“I apologize; I wasn’t expecting us to have company.”
“This is ridiculous! I have a full size carriage that can be ready in minutes,” Tristan guffawed.
“Wonderful idea! You can follow behind us,” the Major replied, grabbing Sarah by her waist, practically tossing her into the carriage and hurrying to the other side.
“Like hell!” Tristan muttered stepping forward and pulling himself up.
Sarah shrank back as the two men sat down at the same time, trapping her in between them. She twisted a bit, to get more comfortable and ended up leaning toward Tristan, her bum overlapped Randall’s thigh. She was grateful the carriage required both of his hands to man the reigns.
“Comfy?” he asked turning his head. Their faces were inches apart and Sarah could feel hers growing warm. Suddenly, the carriage hit a divot in the street causing their heads to collide.
His curses caused several townspeople to look their way and Sarah tried to slink down in the seat. Her forehead ached, but her dignity was injured more so.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I am having a brilliant time,” Sarah replied sarcastically, bracing for more bumps. With each one her bum would rub against Randall’s thigh. She started to suspect he was hitting them on purpose. With grate effort she shifted again reversing her situation.
Facing Randall now, she could make out the tale tell smirk on his face.
“Where are we headed?”
“To the wharf; you must see the bay.”
Sarah was a bit appeased by that news. She had wanted to visit the bay anyways. Maybe she could see Tristan’s ship. They passed the park with the hanging man and Sarah looked away out of respect.
Noticing her movement, Randall spoke. “Traitorous scum was found with maps of the city.”
““How awful, are they sure he was a spy? Perhaps he was lost?” Sarah quipped.
Randall grunted. “He ran a local Tavern. With a name like Baker, you would think he’d be making pies.” Randall chuckled as Sarah’s heart almost stopped.
What kind of cruel trick is this? Surely that was not her contact. This was a huge city, there had to be many taverns ran by men named Baker.
Tristan spoke up as well. “I was there when he was arrested. He confessed and then cursed them blue. It was quite shocking; I had known the man for years.”
“And who knows what secrets he queried from drunken souls,” Randall added grimly.
Sarah frowned; this was the only conversation the two men had where they agreed on something. The fact that they both supported hanging spies made her a bit wary.
The smell of burnt wood filled her head and she was brought back to reality. Movement caught her eye and she watched some children playing hide & seek amongst the ruined buildings.
The ease at which these children accepted their fate was heartbreaking. Well, she was no child and confidant or not, she would still do whatever she could to further her cause. She owed it to Silas.
Her eyes rose to the cloud spotted sky as she made her vow. The beauty of it surprised her. Except for all the death & destruction, it was quite a lovely day.
She could sense the change in the air and knew they were close to the shore. She sat up, eager to see the ships and to distance herself from these ghastly men.
She was not disappointed; the port was filled with large ships. Even with their sails down they were majestic. Men were milling about loading and unloading crates, feeding the British, keeping them strong.
Doubt flickered in her chest for an instant. Doubt that her threadbare, rag tag group of men could take on this force and win. Then she quickly stamped it out. They had something much more important than bought goods, they had heart.
Putting on her best smile, she turned to Tristan, “Which one is the Sea Maiden?”
Tristan stepped toward her, placing his hand on the small of her back. he guided her to face the proper direction. “See the ship with the blue flag flying? That’s her. You want to go aboard?”
“I’d love to.”
“We would love to,” Randall added.
Tristan led them over the dunes and down to the beach. He shouted orders to a group of men who were apparently part of his crew. Acquiring a rowboat, he grasped Sarah’s
hand, helping her step into the wobbly craft. Sarah’s heart was fluttering. She wasn’t scared of the water; she had been swimming since she was a child.
Her father had taught her and rated her skill level from Tadpole to Fish. No it wasn’t the water, it was her mission. She looked around and memorized the view. Soundlessly she counted the ships in port as well as the ones at dock.
The Sea Maiden was a large frigate but appeared small next to the British warships. Her vision was blocked as Randall awkwardly stepped into the boat and sat next to her. Tristan sat across from them and used an oar to push them off. Once they were away he set the oars and methodically rotated them to move the small boat.
Sarah’s eyes were drawn to Tristan while he effortlessly rowed. She could see his arm muscles rippling under his shirt with each powerful stroke. Those same arms had been wrapped around her last night and she yearned to repeat the experience.
Sarah unconsciously licked her lips, tasting the salt from the sea spray. Her eyes met his and she reluctantly looked away. Randall was awfully quiet and she was amused to see he was slightly pale. Before long they were at the Maiden. The wooden hull loomed over them and a knotted rope ladder was tossed over the side. Randall lurched for it and began climbing without a word.
Tristan chuckled, turning to Sarah. “I guess you’re next.”
Sarah stood to climb and looked down at her skirt. She eyed Tristan speculatively, “Can I trust you not to look at my knickers.”
His eyes sparkled as he replied, “It would be rather hard to hold the boat and ladder steady with my eyes closed.”
Sarah turned her back to him, leaning over to tie the back hem of her skirt to the front; creating a makeshift pair of trousers. She grabbed the ladder and started to climb, gritting her teeth as she felt the rough rope burning into her palms. She stopped about half way, tired from her exertion and dizzy from the swaying ship & sea. She took a deep breath before continuing. Looking up she saw the deck hands peering down at her with interest.
This might upset some women, but marching with an army desensitizes you a bit. She gratefully grasped their outstretched hands and allowed them to pull her up the last couple of feet. Standing on the deck she thanked them and turned to watch Tristan climb. He looked up as she was looking down. Taken aback by the intensity in his eyes, she again looked away. He quickly climbed up and over the edge with no assistance.