War of Hearts, A Historical Romance

by Lynn Hubbard

  Sarah cried out as he impaled her, clutching onto his shoulder for support and her nails dug into his shirt. He stopped instantly, worried that he had caused her harm.

  “Don’t Stop!” she chided him, her mind unable to form a whole sentence. Dutifully he complied. Using his strength to increase her small thrusts, he planted his feet on the stairs, using them to guide him into a rhythm. He was on the verge of collapse as he felt her cry out and shudder, relaxing against his chest. Tears trailed down her face as she wept in exhaustion. All of her emotions spiraled together out of control.

  He held her against him and kissed her hair. It was awhile before either one could speak.

  Tristan broke the silence first. “You know, I think The Vixen is my new favorite ship.”

  Sarah pushed up off his chest, trying to remove herself. However, her worn out body betrayed her and she found herself again on his torso. Sarah remained quiet and Tristan was slightly worried about the usually feisty woman.

  Once their breathing returned to normal, Tristan helped to untangle them and rightened his clothing. He kept a grip on her arm to make sure she would not fall in her unsteady state. He reached up, quickly located the latch, and swung the door open. As Sarah climbed into the sunlight, he scurried down to retrieve the lantern & her bloomers.

  He held them out apologetically as she examined them. Ripped down the seam of one leg, they were useless without being mended. A strong wind blew reminding her she had nothing on underneath the spring dress; her cheeks turned the color of her hair.

  She felt cold in the wind and protectively crossed her arms. The fresh air did help clear her mind from the tendrils of lust, allowing doubt to settle in.

  She would be with Tristan until the rescue and then what? She obviously could not return to his home. He would be fine if he insisted the boat was stolen. However, his credibility would still be in danger.

  Major Johnson would see to that.

  “Tristan, can we talk?” she asked, willing to speak at last.

  He looked up at her tone; she sounded so melancholy and he wondered if she regretted their tryst. “Of course.”

  He led her below deck to his cabin. It was smaller than she expected and only boasted a small bed and a drafting table with one chair.

  He sat her on the bed as he pulled up the chair to face her. “I’m worried about your safety after the raid.”

  “You’re worried about my safety? Shouldn’t you concern yourself with your own?”

  “I told you, I have nothing to lose.”

  He grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “You have me.”

  “Do I? You offered me a ship, nothing more,” she said, so wanting to believe it.

  He smiled. “Giving you a ship is akin to giving you my heart.”

  She shook her head. “You can still report it stolen; there is no need to endanger yourself.”

  He snorted. “I have been taking care of myself long before you arrived. However, I do have you to thank for opening my eyes. You have saved me as well.”

  “How have I saved you? The only thing we share is lust.”

  “You are so young and deliciously naïve. Would I sacrifice all my worldly goods and family for lust? I thought Robert a fool when he left. Now I know I am the fool.”

  Sarah shrugged. “It is hard to see the truth when surrounded by lies.”

  “It is indeed.”

  Chapter 17 Words from the Heart

  The ride back home was too short. Sarah preferred to be out and about rather than cooped up where she could potentially run into the Major. Of course visiting the city had not deterred him from following her either.

  Reading her mood, Tristan laid a hand on her leg to gain her attention. “Do not fret, I will take you out tomorrow to procure a dress for your ball,” he teased.

  She smiled back. “As long as it is black.”

  He lifted her down and they walked in the house together.

  “Where have you been?” Randall asked, his ire flaring at seeing them together again.

  “Why are you always underfoot?” Tristan challenged as his anger rose. The bruises he left on Sarah returned to his mind and it took every ounce of strength he had not to strangle him.

  “I am the newly appointed citizen liaison. We want to keep the locals happy.”

  “Well, I would be much happier if you left my sight.”

  Sarah watched the exchange with mixed emotions. She needed to keep the Major in good spirits; he could easily destroy her whole plan.

  “Randall, that sounds like a very interesting position, why don’t you tell me about it?” she grasped his hand and led him to the sitting room.

  Tristan followed the pair, not trusting the soldier for an instant. He poured himself a drink and sat in a chair across form Sarah’s. Randall had settled in on the settee.

  “The position is quite key; I collaborate with the locals and make sure everyone is kept in line.” He spoke proudly while sitting on the spindly furniture. The golden embroidery matched well with his uniform, giving him quite a stately appearance. Too bad he was such an ass.

  “Kept in line?” Tristan asked with disdain.

  An eerie smile crept onto his face and Sarah felt her heart clench at the implications.

  “Yes, any citizen thought to be disloyal to the King, can and shall be imprisoned.”

  “Why that is absurd!” Sarah exclaimed. “So you can read men’s thoughts?”

  “You can tell much just by a man’s expression.” Randall looked at her, fully letting his eyes slowly wander down her body, proving his meaning.

  Sarah blushed darkly, realizing she had no bloomers on. Tristan’s grin above Randall’s head told her he remembered as well.

  “In that case,” Sarah muttered stepping forward and slapping Randall on the cheek hard enough to turn his head. With an hmph, she turned and left the room.

  Randall watched until she was out of sight before speaking. “So do you think she’ll go to the dance with me?”

  “How would I know? You are the mind reader,” Tristan replied, sipping his brandy.

  ***

  Sarah was furious as she returned to her room. She had taken the servants’ stairs to prevent running into anyone else. What game was Randall playing? He could legally throw Tristan in jail purely on a whim.

  Of course, it all could have been merely a jest, a lie to prove his power to her, so she would choose him over Tristan. In any case, she needed to be more cautious. The dinner bell rang and she hastily donned her knickers before heading down to eat.

  Throwing open her door, she gasped, finding Randall blocking her way.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you, Sarah. Please forgive my liberties; I was hoping that since we are neighbors, we could become better…acquainted. I would like to start by asking you to accompany me to the ball.”

  “I am surprised, I would think you have many women to choose from.”

  “I do, but none as ravishing as you.”

  Sarah paused; she had never been called ravishing before. Her mother always said she was beautiful, but parents have to say that. She was flattered to say the least. She would have been more flattered if she knew it was not just a ploy to get under her skirt. The smart thing to do would be to say yes, but still perturbed by their earlier encounter she wavered.

  “I will consider your offer, along with my others. You will have an answer in a week,” she said, hoping to buy some time.

  “Well at least join me for dinner,” he said, extending his arm. She took it without hesitation; it was best to keep him in good spirits, for now.

  She regretted her decision as he guided her down the back staircase, which was much narrower. His arm crept around her shoulders and he pulled her close to him so they would both fit. His breath kept tickling her ear and she shuddered involuntarily. Finally they reached the bottom and she practically darted for the table.

  Taking her seat next to Tristan, she sat down and tried to catch her breath. T
he main topic had returned to the ball. It was peculiar how the Colonel knew so much about decorations. Ryan sat next to him dutifully, writing down the shopping list.

  Sarah listened on in amazement; she couldn’t locate many of the items on a regular day, much less in the middle of a war. Where one would procure Chinese lanterns was beyond her.

  When dinner ended she headed to her room, leaving the men to talk. She was surprised when Tristan decided to join them. Thinking of him, she wondered if he still expected her to visit tonight.

  Things were more difficult with Randall around. Tristan didn’t seem to take him seriously, which frightened her even more. She knew men like him in the past. Men who would lie, or steal to get what they wanted.

  Walking past the library, she stopped in to pick up the poem book she had started yesterday. She didn’t think anyone would care if she borrowed it. Settling in on the large bed she flipped through the pages to find the last section she had read.

  A folded piece of paper fell out onto her lap and she picked it up. It was a poem; funny she had not noticed it before. Looking closer she started to read:

  She reread it twice before realizing it was meant for her. Tristan must have snuck it into her book before dinner. Perhaps he was interested in more than her body after all. She returned to her book and read some passages. Her mind kept returning to Tristan. Frustrated, she left the book on her nightstand, slipped her note into the trunk, and pulled out a dress to wear tomorrow. Folding it over her arm, she listened at her door to make sure the hallway was clear. Once she was assured, she locked the door behind her to prevent anyone from entering. She could get a key from Tristan later. She turned and quickly headed down to Tristan’s room. Upon arriving, she grasped the handle only to find it locked.

  Giving it another twist just to make sure, she leaned her head on his door in defeat.

  “Eager?”

  Sarah froze, turning to look at the owner of the warm, deep voice.

  “Um, I got your note,” she whispered.

  Tristan smiled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his key. With a click the door was opened and he ushered her inside.

  Sarah stood by the door nervously. She watched Tristan as he walked to his bureau and hung up his overcoat. He removed his tie, and Sarah swallowed hard, wondering what was next.

  Even though they had been intimate before, she still did not feel comfortable with that fact. She was unsure of how much was a game and how much was real.

  “I want to show you something,” Tristan said, unfurling a roll of parchment across his desk and sitting down. Curious, Sarah crossed the floor and peeked over his shoulder. It was a map, a map of New York. She took the final step to the table to get a better view.

  Tristan quickly pointed out the strategic locations. Sarah looked on for the first time, taking in the scope of her plan.

  “It seems impossible,” she murmured.

  “I think a better word is improbable. Of course that was before you gained my allegiance.”

  “You think it can work?”

  “I think it has to, Charles is like a brother to me. And I owe Gabriel my life; he has saved mine enough times. What we need is a diversion, some way to get on the ship.”

  “Do they allow visitors?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well certainly the soldiers would help a lady in distress? What if my boat sank and that was the closest refuge?”

  “Perhaps, of course they would probably request payment for their good deed.”

  Sarah shuddered at his meaning.

  “Fret not my lady. I’m sure Gabe has it all figured out; I will meet with him on Wednesday.”

  “Why not tomorrow?”

  “Because tomorrow we are going dress shopping.”

  “And what kind of dress are you getting?”

  Tristan’s eyes twinkled as he turned to face her. Sarah didn’t realize how close they were. “I haven’t decided.”

  “Randall asked me to the ball,” she said softly.

  “And your response?”

  “I told him I had other offers.”

  “And you do. The Colonel was a bit upset tonight about the town’s musings. I suggested that Ryan should ask you to still their tongues.”

  Sarah grinned. “Poor Randall is going to be heart broken.”

  “Alas, as will I. Save me a dance,” Tristan whispered, pulling her into his arms.

  Chapter 18 London’s Finest

  Sarah again found herself sneaking out of Tristan’s room at the crack of dawn. Again she found herself face to face with the disheveled Ryan in the hallway.

  His gray eyes opened in surprise; however, instead of scurrying away he paused. “”Umm, Miss Sarah, would you like to accompany me to the ball?”

  “I’d love to,” Sarah muttered. They rushed off in different directions as they heard footsteps on the staircase.

  She was looking forward to spending another day with Tristan. She had never been to a seamstress before. Her mother had been a wiz with a needle and always made their clothes. Sarah was not nearly as accomplished, but after darning hundreds of socks for the army her skill was improving.

  Thinking of her mother brought tears to her eyes. She moved to the washbasin and washed them away. At least sleeping in Tristan’s arms kept the nightmares at bay.

  She heard her door click open and turned to find Randall glaring at her as he shut it behind him.

  Shrieking as she stood in her nightdress, she grabbed a towel and held it in front of her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Randall’s eyes took in her partially dressed state with interest. “Ryan has informed me that you are accompanying him to the dance.”

  “Ryan is the utmost gentleman, unlike you.”

  His dark chuckle terrified her as he walked closer. She frantically looked around for a weapon. Spying the silver plated hairbrush, she dropped her towel and brandished it in front of her as a weapon.

  “Don’t come any closer!”

  “What are you going to do, brush me?” He grabbed her as she swung. His fingers painfully grasped her wrist and twisted; she gasped, the brush clattering to the floor.

  “I suggest you be much nicer to me, if you care about the health of your lover.” He pulled her against him as she continued to struggle. He grasped her hair, pulled her head back, and covered her mouth with his. She kept her lips tightly together in rebellion. Undaunted, he cruelly grabbed her breast, causing her to gasp and give him access.

  Thoughts swirled in her mind; should she fight? Should she play along? She felt his hand slide up the back of her bare thigh until he reached her bottom. He grasped it and pressed her against his excitement.

  Fight it is.

  A sudden knock at the door caused him to pause. She was never happier to hear Cecilia’s voice. “Breakfast.”

  “You better go and eat. You will need the energy,” he whispered in her ear before leaving just as abruptly as he appeared.

  She quickly locked the door behind him and sank to the floor. Her body shook silently, trying to keep in her emotions. Everything was going wrong; she was running out of time. She doubted she could stave off Randall’s intentions for another week or so. And if she confessed to Tristan, he would be in even more danger. She had to make a plan. She could not risk Tristan’s freedom.

  ***

  Tristan took his seat at the table and nodded to the Colonel and Ryan. He was looking forward to the outing with Sarah today. She deserved to be pampered. He started to worry a bit as she did not arrive before the eggs and tarts were served. Randall appeared next, his uniform was a bit creased today and Tristan would have found it humorous had he not been concerned about Sarah.

  Perhaps he should have let her rest more last night. Then again, she seemed to enjoy their tryst as much as he did. The Colonel’s voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned to the older gentleman.

  “I was going to wait for Miss Sarah, but she appears to be a bit shy this morning. She ha
s agreed to accompany Ryan to the Ball. Isn’t that grand?”

  Ryan blushed a bit and sipped at his juice silently.

  “I couldn’t imagine a more suitable couple,” Tristan replied as he noticed Randall’s grim face. “Speaking of the Ball, I promised Sarah to help her find the perfect gown for the evening. Good day Gents.”

  ***

  She didn’t know how long she had sat there. She was startled when there was a knock on the door.

  “Sarah?” Tristan called out with concern.

  “Yes?” she asked, surprised that her voice worked.

  “Are you alright? You missed breakfast.”

  “Just fine, I’m getting ready. Give me a moment,” she hurried to her feet and headed over to the washbasin. She sighed, peering into the mirror; she looked as weary as she felt. Her eyes had shadows from lack of sleep and her lips were puffy from the bastard Randall. She splashed water on her face before bending to retrieve the brush off of the ground. She needed a better weapon than that.

  Running it through her hair, she winced as she ripped into the tangles. Pinching her cheeks to add a bit of color, she threw on a long sleeve gown and finally opened the door.

  Tristan took in her smile and noticed that it didn’t match the despair in her eyes. Something had changed. Was she angry about their arrangement?

  “Let’s go!” she said, pushing past him and heading for the stairs. A confused Tristan followed slowly.

  He found her in Molly’s stall in the stables. He ordered the carriage to be readied and slipped Molly an apple as he joined her.

  Sarah watched Molly devour the fruit as her own stomach rumbled. She immediately pushed away her own hunger. She had been much more famished than this. She knew from experience one could go so several days without food, and that two people could eat off a rabbit for a week. Tristan placed his free hand on her back and she about jumped out of her skin.

  “What is going on?” he asked, his voice thick with concern.

  “Nothing,” she replied. “Let’s just get this over with.”