Moonlight Lover

by Ferrarella, Marie

  "None taken," he replied. He was content to sit here, listening to them talk, watching Rachel as she interacted with Franklin. For a firebrand, there was a strong vein of love within her. A vein he very much intended to tap and soon.

  "At my age," Franklin continued, "you do not take a day for granted, much less a span of six months."

  "Six months?" Rachel cried. "Do you really think it'll take that long?"

  The wide shoulders beneath the broadcloth lifted and fell. "Perhaps even longer, though I'm hoping for less. We've offended a great power. Beaten them at their own game."

  He shook his head sadly. Though he felt at home in France, he wanted to live out the last of his years here, in America, with those he loved. He wasn't certain that was possible.

  "They'll not likely acquiesce a single issue without protracted debate." He turned and smiled at the man next to him. "Am I right, Sin-Jin?"

  There was no arguing with that. "Absolutely."

  "British pride," Rachel sniffed as she watched Franklin refill his glass.

  "It's no different than Irish pride." Sin-Jin paused to consider as he watched the sparks enter her eyes. "A little less explosive, perhaps. And certainly less dramatic, but just as firm."

  Franklin leaned over toward Riley. "Is he courting her, Riley?" He looked from Sin-Jin to Rachel, his eyes dancing merrily, complimenting the wide smile on his lips.

  "No!" Rachel protested loudly. She drew back as if proximity to Sin-Jin would be an admission of complicity.

  Sin-Jin sipped the last of his rum. "Trying to," he admitted.

  She turned toward him, shock stamped on her features. She almost looked foreboding, he thought. "And have I no say in this matter affecting me?"

  Sin-Jin leaned back, crossing his arms before him. "And if you did, what would it be that you'd say?"

  "No!" she announced loudly, looking at each one directly to insure that she was understood.

  She noticed Franklin wince. His leg was bothering him again. She'd learned the signs when she had lived with him in Philadelphia. Rachel rose to get the footstool.

  Sin-Jin remained unaffected. "That's why you don't have a say," he told her mildly. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he turned his attention once again to Franklin. "How long are you here, sir?"

  "Urging me along my way already?" Franklin laughed. He gingerly raised his foot and rested it on the stool that Rachel provided for him. "Thank you, Rachel. You are an angel."

  "There's some debate over that," Riley murmured. She gave him a black look.

  "On the contrary, sir," Sin-Jin continued. "I know that there would be many here who would welcome a chance to honor you at a celebration."

  At his age, Franklin wasn't much for celebrations. Too much rich food and wine had gotten him into this painful state to begin with. But he found it difficult to say no. "Will there be pretty girls there?"

  Sin-Jin laughed. "I know of at least two."

  Franklin nodded sagely. And Rachel would be one of them if he was any judge of things. "One for each arm. What more can a man ask for?"

  Rachel cleared away his glass. There'd be no more for him tonight, no matter what he said. "A little sobriety and calm."

  "No, that's what a woman would ask for, not a man, my dear," Franklin corrected. "Though the man who wins you will have little calm. And I've no doubt when you let loose with your spells, capturing his soul, there won't be a touch of sobriety about him, either. You'll make him drunk with love."

  Rachel blushed. "That's what comes of drinking when your stomach's not full. Here, have some more." She urged another piece of chicken on him, even as she began to clear away her own plate.

  "No, I'm fine." He sighed as he sat back. "It's lodging I require now." He patted his stomach to indicate that it was full. He wished that it treated him half so well as he had treated it. "A tired old man needs his rest."

  Rachel stopped clearing away the plates. "There's no question of lodging. You'll stay with us," she urged. "You can have my bed."

  Franklin smiled, but shook his head at her offer. "To sleep upon the sweet sheets that have cradled a beautiful young woman is more than I deserve. No, I wouldn't think of displacing you, my dear." Testing his infirmed foot first, he leaned on his cane and rose heavily to his feet. "The tavern will suit my needs."

  She wasn't going to hear of this. "It's noisy and there are barmaids—"

  Mischief shone in his eyes. It was hard to believe that he was nearing his eighth decade. He cocked his head toward Riley. "Pretty ones?"

  She knew that, at least in part, he was teasing her, but it wasn't a suitable place for a man of his age to stay. She was convinced that she knew what was best for him and that didn't include sleeping at the tavern.

  Sin-Jin read the distress on Rachel's face. He rose to join Franklin. "Perhaps you could do me the honor of staying at my plantation? There's plenty of room and I would more than welcome the company."

  Franklin paused to consider the offer. "Would you perhaps have any claret?"

  Sin-Jin grinned. "The very finest."

  Franklin looked intrigued. He placed an arm around Sin-Jin's shoulders. "And just how did you manage that in these stringent times?"

  Sin-Jin preferred to keep things vague in front of Rachel. She took every contact with England to be a reminder of wounds she wouldn't, as yet, discuss with him. "I still have a few connections in England and packages have been known to get through." It had arrived from his cousin when news of his pardon had been issued.

  It was enough for Franklin. And he knew the conversation at the plantation would be far more stimulating than anything he could hope for at the tavern.

  "You have talked me into it, my boy."

  Rachel and Riley walked with him to the door. Franklin turned to look at them before he took his leave, sentimentality tugging at his heart like a monk pulling the ropes at a bell tower. "You've done well for yourselves, starting the Gazette, making fine friends." He nodded at Sin-Jin.

  Rachel merely sniffed.

  Sin-Jin collected the single valise that Franklin had brought with him from the docks and then rented a carriage. By the time they had ridden out, Franklin's leg perched gingerly before him on the open vehicle, the town was abuzz with talk of his return.

  "Wonderful people. Wonderful," Franklin sighed, leaning back. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "I think she likes you, boy."

  The comment, coming from out of nowhere, made Sin-Jin laugh. "In that event, I would surely hate to be a man she didn't like."

  Franklin thought back to the years she had lived at his house. "Those, as I recall, she tongue-lashed to death." He chuckled fondly. "It wasn't a pretty sight."

  Sin-Jin remembered the curses that Rachel had heaped upon his head, many of which he couldn't begin to understand. "Then her methods have not changed any."

  Franklin folded his hands before him, settling in for a long ride. He tried not to think of how much his poor old body ached with each bump the carriage took. He'd rather think of youth than old age.

  "She is a handful, that one," Franklin readily agreed with Sin-Jin.

  This was his chance, Sin-Jin thought, to finally learn a little more about Rachel than she had been willing to let him know. "Riley tells me that you took them in when they arrived in Philadelphia."

  Franklin's expression grew distant, soft, as he remembered. "In a manner of speaking, we took each other in." He sighed. "Growing old is a very lonely experience, even in the midst of turmoil. I had need of companionship, of bright, vital young minds just awakening, and they were in need of a father. It was a chance to redeem myself. I've not been the best of fathers to my own."

  With a frown that was laced with anger and guilt, he thought of his bastard son, William, the former governor of Pennsylvania. There was a chasm between them, caused by the war, that could never be traversed or mended. But nothing was to be gained by dwelling on that. He purged the memory from his mind.

  "We
muddled through a few years together. They have bright minds," he said proudly. "Both of them."

  Sin-Jin turned to make certain that Lucifer was still tied securely to the carriage. "You don't find that odd, in a woman, I mean."

  "On the contrary, I find that delightful in a woman. Pleasures of the flesh last only so long, my boy. They are greatly enhanced by intelligence." He noted the sober look that passed over Sin-Jin's face and leaned forward to study it.

  He realized what must have occurred to the young man. "Oh, do not mistake my words, Sin-Jin," he said quickly. "She was far too much like a daughter to me for me to have any thoughts about her that were other than completely paternal. But that doesn't mean that I don't have eyes. I can see what a fair flower she is. A flower now ripe for the plucking."

  Sin-Jin urged the horse on faster. Its pace had slowed too much. "More like a wasp for the stinging."

  Franklin laughed, delighted. "You'll make a good match, the two of you. I look forward to it."

  "I doubt that she thinks so or would say the same thing."

  Franklin settled back once again. "You have much to learn about women, my lad," he assured him. "Much. Do not listen to their lips in such matters. Listen only to the message you can find in their eyes."

  Sin-Jin glanced at him. "Their eyes?"

  Franklin nodded. "Their eyes," he repeated. "Trust me. I know about such things." He laughed, his stomach quivering slightly from the action. "Yes, I know very well about such things." He smiled wistfully as his eyes took on a distant look.

  Sin-Jin left the older man to his thoughts, for they appeared to be very private in nature at the moment.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  News of Franklin's arrival and the reason for his return to the United States spread like fire in a forest. The war was over. Finally. Britain had declared the hostilities to be over as of February fourth, and Congress echoed the command on the eleventh of April. Cries of joy, of relief and of revelry went up, county after county, state after newly formed state.

  Morgan McKinley announced that a double celebration was in order at a town meeting, heralding the war's end and Franklin's visit. He handed the responsibility of arranging for the celebration over to Krystyna—and she recruited and commandeered every available pair of hands to her service, from family to house servants.

  "So this is how a countess from Poland operates. Quickly and ruthlessly."

  Jason stood, his arms crossed before him, leaning easily against the doorjamb of the study. He had been watching his wife pen invitation after invitation to mark the occasion. It seemed to him that she hadn't slept since his father's announcement. Christopher stood at the rear of the room, ready to deliver his aunt's invitations as quickly as possible.

  "The key word is efficiently, my love." A smile spread on her mouth as her eyes sparkled. "If that does not work, then I become ruthless."

  How was it possible to love someone more each day and believe that the end had been reached, only to discover that you loved her more the next day? It was a puzzle he had no hopes of solving, only enjoying.

  Jason crossed to her desk. "Order me around as you will." Bending over, he kissed her temple as his nephew watched, envious. "I am at your disposal."

  The smile only widened as Krystyna resumed writing. "I have always known that."

  Within the space of three days, Franklin's idyllic tranquility was at an end, exchanged for a huge ball at the McKinley estate given in his honor. Everyone in the county, except for a few inhabitants with open loyalist sympathies, attended. Conspicuously missing was Winthrop's uncle, the Reverend Peregrine Blake, who had equated eternal damnation with siding with the rebels. For six years he had used his pulpit to preach the word of the crown. Anxious for his safety since Winthrop had disappeared, the Reverend kept to himself now and had developed the art of looking over his shoulder far more often than looking before him.

  Krystyna had outdone herself in this commemorative ball praising freedom. In her heart, she had always espoused the American cause, equating it with her own country's struggle for the same goal. Since it hadn't been Poland's lot to throw off the yoke of her oppressors, Krystyna found bittersweet joy in being in a country that had. Morgan had ordered that no expense be spared for this celebration and she had taken him at his word. There was enough food and drink to take care of the needs of an army of people. And an army of people attended.

  Sin-Jin stood back quietly, nursing a single glass of punch, watching Franklin hold court. At seventy-seven, the fabled inventor, writer, philosopher, scientist and diplomat looked like a much younger man than someone who had done enough deeds to fill three lifetimes. With infirmities constantly assaulting his body, he held them all at bay, refusing to be taken prisoner by any of them. More importantly, he refused to surrender to the stagnation of old age.

  "Vital thoughts, that's the key," he had confided to Sin-Jin earlier. He chuckled as he continued. "That and a warm, willing young woman." He had sighed as he thought of several who had passed through his life. "Never underestimate the good that can do, either. Keeps the blood flowing."

  He had winked broadly then and Sin-Jin had no doubts that the rumors concerning Franklin's romantic assignations were not exaggerated.

  At the moment, the man was surrounded by well-wishers and admirers of both genders.

  Jason joined his friend on the sidelines. "So, what do you think of our first glorified statesman and patriot?" he asked Sin-Jin as he helped himself to more punch. Riley drifted over to the two men, beaming as if Franklin had been his very own invention.

  Sin-Jin raised his glass in Franklin's direction in a silent toast. "We've none in England like him, that's for bloody sure."

  Rachel had sworn to herself on the way to the party that she would do her best to avoid Sin-Jin. Yet less than an hour into the festivities, she found herself making her way toward him. Obviously her best was not nearly good enough.

  She tried to deny her own involvement in straying from her self-appointed path by telling herself that it would be rude to avoid one of her hosts. It wasn't her fault if the host happened to be standing next to Sin-Jin. Such things were beyond her control.

  "What did you two talk about while he stayed with you?" Rachel addressed her question vaguely to Sin-Jin.

  She took care to stand next to her brother rather than Sin-Jin. Though her tone was careless, she had been dying to discover if Franklin had said anything about her to Sin-Jin. More importantly, if Sin-Jin had asked about her.

  "Everything." There was no missing the admiration in Sin-Jin's voice. "I've never known anyone who was such a cornucopia of knowledge. The man's mind is a wonder, an absolute treasure trove of information. He seems to know something about everything."

  Three days had never passed so quickly for him, nor had he ever been so sorry to see them slip away. He would have gladly gone on in Franklin's company indefinitely.

  "He does," Rachel asserted proudly, turning to watch the elderly man.

  Riley silently nudged Jason, then glanced to the side, indicating that they should leave. Jason nodded, not troubling himself to hide his smile. The two eased themselves away from Rachel and Sin-Jin, who scarcely noticed their absence.

  Sin-Jin was aware of the way Rachel looked at Franklin. There was both admiration and an air of protectiveness about it. "You think a lot of him, don't you?"

  She nodded, smiling as she watched Franklin bend to whisper something in a young woman's ear. The woman laughed, blushing as she hid her smile behind a fan. "I love that old man. When he found us, we were living on the streets, Riley and I."

  There was no shame in her voice. It was just a fact to be stated. Sin-Jin realized that for once, when she spoke, she wasn't guarding her words the way she had a tendency to do around him.

  "I was sick and Riley had stolen Mr. Franklin's purse, hoping to get some money for food. It was just turning dusk." She smiled. "He chased Riley down the street. I remember sitting, huddled in an alleyway, watching my
brother's feet come flying in my direction as if the very devil was after him. Instead, it was this ripe old man, his grayish brown hair flying behind him as he lumbered after Riley, huffing and puffing." She laughed fondly.

  Rachel turned to look at Sin-Jin. "I was afraid he'd have us taken away to prison. Instead, the soul of kindness he was. He picked me up and carried me to his house." Her voice grew soft with the memory. "Had his housekeeper take care of us. Became our da when he found out we had no one else. And asked nothing in return."

  Rachel raised her eyes toward Sin-Jin and he saw the depth of her feeling. "I'd die for that old man if I had to." She cleared her throat, slightly embarrassed. She'd said far more than she had wanted to. "But you never answered my question specifically. What is it you talked about?"

  He knew what she was fishing for. He couldn't help touching just the wisp of hair at the nape of her neck. "France, England. You."

  She felt the shiver slither down her back, tickling her senses, making them streak through her like lightning through a stormy sky.

  "Oh?" She wished she could sound detached, but it wasn't to be. "And what about me?"

  He couldn't touch her the way he wanted to, the way he hungered to, so he let his eyes roam about her body instead. She was wearing a flattering green dress the color of the forest at dusk. It nipped at her waist, a waist that would just fit between his hands. And the bodice came low enough to remind him of all that he was missing. He felt his mouth grow dry just to stand so close to her.

  "He thinks you have a wonderful mind." The state of Rachel's mind was the furthest thing from his at this moment.

  "I do."

  He grinned. "And absolutely modest, to boot."

  She placed her hands on her hips in a familiar pose that had become imprinted on his mind. "And isn't that just like a man, laughing at the idea of a woman being able to think for herself?"

  He wasn't laughing. He hadn't any intention of laughing. Not when he wanted her so much. "You know, I am growing very tired of the labels you keep bestowing on me. You have no idea what it is I think." That all my waking thoughts, more and more, are of you. "You have no idea who and what I am."