by Betty Bolte
* * *
Benjamin watched her walk away, her long skirts rhythmically swishing with each step, emphasizing the curves from her waist to her full hips. She had missed him and pretended not to care. He'd seen the longing in her eyes and her enticing pout when he caught her in the moonlit shadows. Kissing those pouting lips tempted him, but it was too soon. He had his work cut out for him to win her back. Seeing her standing at the rail, the moon a soft glow behind his little flower, reminded him of their last moments together, when he'd kissed her good night, not knowing they shared a sweet good-bye. He'd planned to propose to her, but duty summoned him before the chance arrived.
War existed as a blasted hell for everyone, because of the fear and agony of fighting, and the fear and heartache of those remaining behind. She bore up well under the pressures, yet he could see the strain, could understand the void of so many who had left, and could appreciate she needed reassurance from him. Hell, he'd wanted to write to her to explain everything but didn't know what to say when holding the pen. He'd tried several times, but the sight of the empty page waiting for him to explain dried up his carefully thought out reasoning. Not a day had passed without thinking of her, her scent, her taste, her touch. Words deserted him, though, as they had all his life. He didn't trust them to convey his thoughts adequately. Try as he might, he knew not how to reasonably explain his sudden disappearance into the morning fog that day so long ago when called to duty by the patriot forces.
The air still carried her unique scent, a balance between oleander and cinnamon, sweet and spicy. He filled his lungs with her and savored her presence, if only for the span of a long breath. In the distance he heard laughter and applause. Amy must have begun telling stories. When they married, as he hoped they eventually would, she would need to replace such childish nonsense with her adult wifely duties, her motherly obligations not only to him but to the young republic of America. Hopefully, she'd bear him many strong sons. But for now she could indulge in some harmless fun. After all, the sound of her voice when she told her tales was a pleasing way to relax, if nothing else. He smiled as he breathed a contented sigh.
Laughing seagulls swooped through the darkened sky in the distance, white flashes of the underside of their wings shining over the harbor as they banked and dived for fish. The moon lent its light to the choppy waves, illuminating the whitecaps as well as the many masts of the ships. Most of them flagged as British ships, waiting to evacuate the King's troops from town. The order had been given, but the weather had not yet cooperated. When those ships left the harbor, taking with them loyalists and runaway slaves, then Charles Town would be free. America would be an independent country of its own. The new states had endured a long, bloody and costly fight for the ideal of freedom. He leaned on the railing, the wood warm beneath his hands, and drew in a long breath.
For tonight the worries of the war and safeguarding the gem receded. He would take time to enjoy the lilt of Amy's voice as she told her inventions about ghosts and things that bumped in the night.
He pushed away from the rail and strode inside, pausing in the open door long enough to determine the lay of the parlor where Amy held court. Dressed in emerald satin, she occupied a plush chair near the fireplace, adorned with a simple rope of pearls and bobs at her ears. The other guests arrayed around her like moths around the watchman's lamp. God, she was beautiful, skin aglow, rosy lips forming the words of the scary tale. Her eyes sparkled as she watched the reactions of her audience. But her voice enthralled him, drawing him closer one step at a time. She was more stunning than he'd remembered. Her inner strength and vivacity radiated from her eyes as she gestured with her hands. He reached the edge of the group of friends and family and paused.
She glanced around at her captivated listeners, a hint of mischief lurking in her eyes. "Then the black wolf trotted out of the woods, its tongue dripping blood, teeth bared and menacing, scraps of cloth hanging from its immense jaw. The unknown man, that threatening stranger in town who had brought such terror, lived no more." Amy sat back and accepted the enthusiastic cheers and gasps. Her eyes met Benjamin's, and her smile sobered, though it stayed intact as her audience of friends and family patted her shoulders and clapped.
Frank disengaged from the throng and approached Benjamin, who nodded to him. They'd been best friends since school days, growing inseparable during the militia training they'd endured after the signing of the Declaration of Independence that hot summer of 1776. Evenly matched as teens, Benjamin's greater height and breadth of shoulder as he'd grown and matured eventually surpassed the capabilities of his friend. But Benjamin knew better than to try to beat Frank with his intellect. The man was a genius hidden behind his quiet demeanor and good looks. Known throughout the South as a cipher expert, his work on behalf of the patriots had earned him many military commendations over the past several years. Neither one had any trouble attracting the fairer sex to be their companions. Benjamin grinned, recalling that more than one girl had compared them to the two Greek gods, Zeus and Apollo, though he didn't know what the connection might be.
"So, my friend," Frank said, clapping him on the shoulder, "what do you think of our Miss Amy after all this time?"
"What makes you think I was thinking about her?" Benjamin tried to forestall the speculation. Frank would surely recall the depth of intimacy Benjamin had shared with her. Had being the key. "Mayhap I was contemplating how grateful I am not to be a stranger in this town."
"Hah." Frank gave him a friendly punch on the arm and laughed. "You've been ogling her all evening."
"She is the center of the entertainment, so 'tis natural." Benjamin shrugged, biting back a smile as he enjoyed the repartee.
"So is staring at such a beautiful woman." Frank chuckled, then sobered quickly. "Here comes her father."
Benjamin turned to greet the silver-haired gentleman. Richard Abernathy strolled across the room with a well-earned aura of importance. His vision and foresight had helped the small harbor town grow and prosper over the past twenty years, first as an English colony and then as a new self-governing state. Charles Town was renowned for its imports and exports, a vast variety of wares and foods coming and going through its wharfs. At least before the war, though reduced trading continued despite the embargoes placed by the Continental Congress. While besieged, the availability of food had dwindled to a trickle. However, the temporary reality did not dim the influence of Amy's father. Abernathy had not only helped guide the formation of a chamber of commerce, but also a natural museum and the theater, though neither institution currently opened their doors due to the British occupation. He'd helped to elect John Mathews as governor and assisted him in establishing the temporary seat of government in Jacksonborough, southwest of Charles Town.
"Benjamin, glad to see you safe." Abernathy shook hands with Benjamin, then with Frank. "What brings you to town?"
"Business." Benjamin didn't share specifics with anyone, for their safety as well as his own. "I see you're well."
Abernathy nodded. "There is much to discuss. Are you here long?"
"For a while." Long enough hopefully to convince his headstrong Amy to see him, to ask for her hand. He had envisioned asking her for months, though he failed yet again to string words together into the perfect proposal. One ironically positive aspect of the war was all the able-bodied men had left the besieged town, so the women had no beaus. Thus Benjamin remained certain she waited for him. Indeed, Abernathy wanted Amy to marry and had hinted to Benjamin previously to pursue such an end. Benjamin didn't anticipate resistance from her father, but given Amy's reception of him this evening, rough water loomed ahead."Let's retire to the library, and we can catch up in private. The captain won't mind sharing some of his fine sherry as an after-dinner treat for an old compatriot. Come."
Benjamin tried to catch Amy's eye, but she was deep in conversation with the brunette woman and didn't seem to notice his departure. He shook off the faint disappointment of not receiving even a smile from her
as he turned to follow Frank down the hall.
Chapter 2
The room felt empty subsequent to Benjamin's departure, but Amy refused to stare after him. She would ignore the urge to go to him, follow him. He was a grown man, fully capable of caring for his own matters. Still, it took all her self-control. The smiles of Emily and Samantha confirmed that her momentary distraction went unnoticed. Relieved, she focused on the conversation at hand.
"The latest essay has ruffled feathers all over town." Samantha's green eyes sparkled. She tucked a wayward ebony lock back into the neat bun resting at the nape of her neck. "Not too many folks agree women should be considered equal to men, to have the right to own property and vote their opinion."
Amy shook her head. Would the populace accept such a notion? "It will never come to pass. Not in our lifetime."
Emily's sapphire eyes peered at her, her shoulders tense. "Why do you say that?"
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Amy noted her uncle slipping down the hallway in the same direction as her father and Benjamin. The men preferred to withdraw to the parlor to smoke and talk, probably stuffy topics like politics and commerce.
"Yes," Samantha said. "The men will not relinquish their sense of power and independence now they have earned it by defeating the British."
"They should recognize women as their partners." Emily shook her head in annoyance. "What's wrong with them?"
"Nothing is wrong with them, my friend," Samantha said. "They follow the mandate handed down to them by their fathers and grandfathers. Other cultures have different views, but not our society."
Emily cocked her head, one brow lifted in inquiry. "You seem to know everything."
Amy silently agreed. The sudden occurrence of women supporting opinions in a town such as this, where the men ruled the roost, caused quite a stir. Who would have the audacity to write under the fictitious name of Penny Marsh? Amy didn't know the elusive writer. If anyone might know, Emily had the highest chance, and even she acted perplexed. Still, Samantha seemed a deep well of knowledge. How she came by it remained the question. "Where do you find the time to acquire such a broad understanding of other cultures?"
A slight lift of a shoulder served as Samantha's reply. She seemed about to say something, but suddenly Frank and Benjamin strode into the room, the girls' fathers close behind. They all looked pleased except for Benjamin's furrowed brow. What were they up to? Amy puzzled over the frown lurking at the corners of Benjamin's mouth. What had him worried?
"Amy, my dear, there you are!" Amy's mother, Lucille, hurried toward their little circle and fanned herself with her oriental silk fan. "I've searched high and low for you."
"What's the matter?" Amy asked. "I've been here all along."
"We need to make another trip to the plantation on the morrow." Her mother studied Amy's expression until Amy forced herself to resist squirming under the intense look. "Evelyn will soon deliver her child, and she'll need the supplies I've set aside for her."
"Of course." She could check on her sister's welfare as well, given Walter Hamilton's overbearing nature. Once the sentries allowed her to pass. She'd already used the need to visit a sick uncle she didn't actually have. Then she told a tale of woe about her relatives, who were supposedly starving and relying upon the plantation to gather the last of the squash in the fields. What could she tell them this time?
"I'll send word to prepare for our departure after breakfast in the morning." Lucille fanned her face with rapid strokes. "Do not linger here much longer."
"Yes, Mother. I have much to do this evening to be ready for our journey." First she must think up a plausible story to explain her actions. She hugged her mother and watched her stride through the dispersing crowd of friends and neighbors.
A thrill rippled through Amy at the prospect of daring the enemy soldiers to stop her passage out of the town. She loved the feeling of independence, of defiance in the face of danger, and of the power her appearance and flirtations gave her. Neither proud nor smug about her looks, enough young men had paid her compliments to prove the point. No matter she put her life in danger each time she stuffed boots, epaulets, or maps under her voluminous skirt or inside her bodice. Or wore men's boots in order to deliver them to some poor soldier in need of footwear. If caught, she would be hung as a smuggler or, worse, a spy. But if the men like Benjamin could do their part to fight for America's freedom from British tyranny, then so could she.
Besides, the sudden jaunt meant she'd be away from Benjamin and his affectionate looks she used to welcome but now made her uneasy. Yes, she'd be able to avoid being with him and reopening those old wounds.
At least for a few days.
At that moment Benjamin's eyes locked onto hers. A thrill washed through her at the hunger in his gaze. She smiled automatically, then chastised her own weakness. Her physical reaction recalled to mind how she'd felt when she first met Benjamin, standing underneath the magnolia tree on the plantation, its trunk too large to wrap her arms around. The scent from the dinner-plate-size white blossoms had filled the air. She'd been so young, so innocent, and so naive. Benjamin had been eighteen years old the first time they met, accompanying his father, God rest his soul, when he came to discuss breeding one of their new Arabian mares to an Abernathy stallion. The resulting horses were new, untried, but her father had entertained high hopes they'd be worthy for generations of racers to come. Her father proved right, too, given that the progeny by his stallions consistently won whatever races they ran. The moment Benjamin's eyes met hers, she'd felt the pull, that swelled to a tug, that grew to an obsession with him. Instinct warned her to beware, but her heart had been hooked.
From across the room now Benjamin watched her, a slow grin splitting his face as he looked her over, top to bottom, and returned to her warming glare. Oh, how his misguided confidence radiated from him. How dare he peruse her as though she were one of her father's horses at auction? Evelyn's black eye rose to Amy's mind, and she squared her shoulders. She lifted her chin and turned her back to him.
She'd tried to resist the lure before, tried to swim around it without biting it. But the lure did its job, and her senses had drawn closer and closer. Her heart had rebelled against his leaving, but her instincts suggested his departure remained the better option. Now she wished he'd leave again. But since he seemed inflexible about staying, for her own good she'd ignore him, no matter how difficult it might prove to convince her heart to do so.
"Amy?" Emily waved her folded fan in front of Amy's face. "Are you with us?"
"No, you just think you see me," Amy replied with a smile.
"Looks like Benjamin wants a word with you." Samantha gestured toward the door and Benjamin's figure striding toward them.
"I—have to find my father." Amy saw her father with Frank, but she would have to ease past Benjamin's incredibly masculine body in order to cross the room to where the two men chatted. Watching Benjamin approaching, her heart sank. She had disregarded how much he'd changed over the past years of his absence. Tried to ignore the breadth of his shoulders, the muscles straining against his jacket. Had he grown taller as well? He seemed to loom over her when he stopped at her side, his eyes scrutinizing her expression. She forced a smile but felt it waver under the intensity of his gaze.
"Miss Amy." He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it lightly before rubbing his thumb over the spot. He winked suggestively. "I've missed you since our last encounter."
"Major." Only a short time had elapsed since they last spoke, so his words teased her with their private reference. She withdrew her hand from his, but the place he'd kissed continued to tingle and felt more alive than the rest of her body. So much she'd like to say, but where to begin? And why? Although drawn to this man like a shark to bloody water, she did not want to be owned by anyone. Not after her sister's experiences.
Indeed, she felt it best to stay single. Especially when a woman had no way out of a bad marriage except her or her husband's death. Or flee to live withou
t any good prospects, no future marriage, no ability to own property, all because she remained married in the eyes of God and the government and subject to her husband's whims under the coverture laws. No, she'd have to be truly, madly in love, or worse desperate, to want to take such a fearful chance on her future happiness. And that wasn't likely.
"May I have a word?" Benjamin crooked his arm as though to escort her outside onto the piazza. His eyebrows arched in silent invitation.
She cast a worried glance at Emily, her insides seizing at the idea of being alone with him again. Surely Emily understood her reluctance, even though her cousin had chosen to become engaged to Frank, to take the awful chance on lifelong happiness and security. Frank's declaration of love had been bolstered by the fact he fought a duel for Emily's honor, finally convincing Emily to take the gamble on him. Surely his actions proved his affections for Emily more concretely than, by contrast, the assurances originally offered by Walter when he courted Evelyn. Now Amy looked for actions to confirm the words of love.
Watching her cousin's face, she saw the instant Emily recognized the soundless plea Amy sent her way. Emily turned on her brilliant smile for Benjamin's benefit.
"Major." Emily placed a restraining hand lightly on his crooked arm. "I hope you'll spare us a few minutes to share the current status of the war. What is happening outside the town? We hear so few updates regarding the peace negotiations." She pursed her lips, a slight frown gracing her forehead as she waited for his response.
Slowly he lowered his arm and glanced between the three women. Seeming to have interpreted the situation, he relaxed and recounted what he knew of the treaty negotiations. Amy let out the breath she'd been holding, silently thanking Emily.
"We should know more in a few months, ladies, but it appears the treaty to end hostilities will be signed in Paris soon. It will likely take a while to make it official. They are working the final details of the agreement, but ere long we should see the British boarding those ships in the harbor. Hopefully before the new year arrives."