by M. S. Parker
The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. A woman like me. After all this, that's what I was to my husband. Pain mixed with anger, reducing my voice to a whisper. “And what sort of woman is that, Gracen? What sort of woman did you marry that the only way a British officer would want to grope her would be if she encouraged him?”
The color in his face drained away, leaving his skin mottled. His expression said that he knew he'd made a mistake, but my temper was building again, and I wasn't going to let him brush this aside.
“For your information, that asshole didn't care when I reminded him that I was married or that I didn't want him touching me. I was trying to be polite for the sake of your precious reputation, so instead of slapping him like he deserved, I tried for some passive resistance. That was my second mistake. My first was thinking you were any different from the rest of the chauvinistic bastards who would rather blame the victim than take responsibility for their fucking actions.”
Gracen stared at me, eyes wide. I knew I was on the verge of losing control, but the reality of what happened – what could have happened – had finally hit me. I'd spent years in the service, knowing that for every good guy like Wilkins and Rogers, there were others who wouldn't think twice about forcing themselves on me. And that a system of good ol' boys would probably protect them. I was under no illusions that things were better for women here, but I thought that I'd at least have Gracen on my side.
“Axe was right about you,” I said, voice shaking. “You are a coward.” He flinched, but I kept going. “Biding our time to announce our loyalties is smart, but now I'm thinking that isn't why you wanted us to pretend tonight. You'd rather play the game, smile at those men, flirt with Clara...blame me, than risk saying or doing anything that would make you look bad.”
I winced when Gracen wrapped his hand tightly around my arm, his fingertips digging into my skin hard enough to bruise. “You know nothing of what I thought. My reasons.” His voice was low with fury. “You have no idea what I’ve put aside for you. What I've lost and still could lose. None at all.”
His words broke my heart, a reminder that just because he hadn't left his family and friends behind didn't mean any of this was easy for him. “You can get it all back,” I murmured. “If I...disappeared, no one would think twice about whatever explanation you gave. You could marry Clara. Stay out of the war completely or join the British. Use what I've told you to try to change the future. Forget about me.”
Gracen’s grip loosened around my arm. He looked at me in disbelief as he shook his head, his anger vanishing. “I could never forget about you.”
I brought my hand to his cheek. “Then what happened tonight?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “All week, I've seen him watching you, the corporal. I know what a man like him could offer you. What I said, that phrase, a woman like you, it wasn't an insult. You are so far above me, above him, that I told myself the only way he would dare approach someone as beautiful and amazing as you would be if you allowed it.”
He reached out and cupped the side of my face, stepped into me and slid one arm around my waist. The pain in his eyes spoke to the truth of what he was saying.
“I was afraid I would lose you. I can bear giving up everything, so long as I have you.” He lowered his head, capturing my lips with a kiss, his hand moving to bury itself in my unbound hair.
We were so different, came from such different places, and the longer we were together, the more obvious it became. But none of that mattered because what he said was true. I could give up my time, my family, friends, job, technology – hell, indoor plumbing – as long as he was with me. It was that, I realized, that had triggered my actions when it came to Clara. I'd never been a truly jealous person, but seeing her with Gracen hadn't only given me a flare of envy. Fear had been the motivating factor. Fear that he'd realize he'd made a mistake choosing me, and I'd be stuck in this place and time alone.
“I'm sorry,” I murmured, sliding my hands up his chest. “I was scared too.”
“Of what?” He looked so puzzled that it eased the knot around my heart.
“That you'd realize you made a mistake. Choosing me.”
He took my lower lip between his teeth, worrying at it for a moment before soothing it with his tongue. “You are the best decision I've ever made, my love.”
I took his mouth this time, pouring everything I felt into the kiss, letting him feel how much he meant to me. How much I loved him. How he was the only man I wanted. The only one I'd ever want. And I knew that now. If I was taken away from him, sent back to my own time, he would still have my heart.
“Promise me you’ll never let Clara Stiles touch you again,” I said, biting at his jaw. “I'm the only one allowed to touch you.”
“Never. I’d be a fool to want anyone other than you,” he said, his hands working on the first of the many layers separating us.
I loved the strength I could feel in his arms, in his hands. There was passion in his touch, so much so that I couldn't exactly call him gentle as he stripped off my dress, but there was no fear in me, no worry that he could hurt me. Even in our most intimate moments, when he allowed himself to lose control, he protected me.
When I was finally down to my shift and him to his nightshirt, we collapsed onto the bed, hands sliding over and under the coarse fabric, his need to touch me matching my own. His kisses were rough, teeth scraping, mouth sucking until I knew my skin would be marked. I didn't care, meeting each bite with one of my own, raking my nails down his back, over his ass. He was mine.
The world began to fade away. Roston, Clara, Quincy, Bruce, everyone. This was what mattered. This was all that mattered.
At some point, the last of our clothing ended up on the floor, baring our bodies in the flickering candlelight. I knew a lot of couples during this time kept their rooms dark when they made love, but I wanted to see him, needed to see him. His long, lean body, defined muscles. The dusting of dark hair across his chest that trailed down to the base of that thick, beautiful shaft.
I cried out as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, sending a direct bolt of pleasure straight through me. I hooked a leg around his hip, rubbing against his cock. He moved his hand between us, and I braced myself for the overwhelming sensation of fullness that came with him sliding into me. But it was a finger that probed between my lips, that moved over my clit, and then down, before slipping inside.
I gasped out his name, closing my eyes as his mouth and hand drove me toward climax. I shuddered as I came, then cried out when he pushed inside. My still trembling body opened to him, accepted him, welcomed him.
“Perfect,” he breathed against my skin. As he rocked against me, he raised himself on his elbows so he could look down at me. “Perfect how we fit together. Two hundred years separated us, and yet we were made for each other.”
I reached up, ran my fingers through his hair. “I've never really had much belief in a higher power, in fate or destiny, but you...you make me believe.”
He buried his face against my neck, his thrusts coming harder and faster as he chased our release. I meant what I said, that he made me believe in something greater, but there was something more that I hadn't said. That if whatever had brought us together decided to tear us apart, I'd never forgive it. I'd made my choice to give up everything for him, and I'd be damned if I let him go without a fight.
As I came again, I let go and screamed, tightening around him until he cried out my name. I didn’t care if anyone heard us. In fact, I hoped everyone heard. Then they’d know that Gracen was mine and only mine. And I was his.
Chapter 9
I rolled over, squinting as the morning sun blazed against my face. The maid must have already entered the room to open the shutters and let in some fresh air. I hadn’t heard a thing. The idea of servants wandering around during moments of vulnerability still made me feel weird, but I knew better than to say a word. I already drew enough attention to myself by refusing to let anyon
e bathe and dress me. Well, for the most part when it came to dressing. The more complicated gowns required a second or third set of hands. That couldn't be helped.
I reached for Gracen, propping myself up on one elbow to kiss his jaw. I moved my mouth slowly up to his, my hand sliding over his firm chest toward my goal. My lips brushed against his, and I stopped when he didn't respond. A knot formed in my throat as I remembered the morning after our first night together. A morning when all of the magic of the evening before had dissipated, and he'd accused me of wanting to use him.
I'd hoped we were past that, but I wouldn't know unless I asked. “Gracen?” I said his name tentatively, hating myself for the timidity.
“What?” he asked, still not looking at me.
“What’s wrong?”
I was only slightly reassured when he slipped his arm under me to encircle my shoulders. The relationship between husbands and wives in this time and place was something of a mystery for me. While history said that women had a lower place in society, I knew that history books rarely had the full story, especially when it came to what went on behind closed doors.
“I’m thinking.”
I hated my need to ask Gracen again about his devotion to me when he’d demonstrated both verbally and physically that he was mine, but the urge to do just that was strong. I was grateful when he spoke first.
“We need to leave, Honor.”
A rush of relief washed through me, but I forced myself to temper my excitement. I needed to be sure that I understood correctly. “You mean leave here?”
“Yes.”
I sat up, needing to see his face to know that he was serious. I caught the sheet against my breasts. I didn't care about the nudity, but distractions were a bad idea right now. I wanted his full attention for a completely different reason.
“What about your father? Convincing him to join the cause? Upholding your family name?”
I watched my husband’s face as he formed his answer, as he struggled to understand it himself. I traced my finger along his forearm, giving him all the time he needed. He was physically strong, more so than a lot of men of his class, but it was his strength of character I'd come to admire and love. He'd tried to hide it under the guise of familial loyalty, but I saw it as clearly now as I ever had.
“I cannot continue to play the role my father wishes me to play. He has made his choice, and I have made mine. I need to follow through, and I do not believe I can do that here.”
I knew that this decision hadn't been easy for Gracen to reach, and my heart broke for the pain I knew he must be experiencing. I gave him a soft kiss before resting my head on his chest. The steady thump of his heart was comforting, soothing. It was home more than any four walls and a roof could ever be.
“Thank you,” I said.
“No, thank you.” He kissed the top of my head. “You’ve changed everything for me, Honor.”
As I rested there, I reminded myself that I had the future on my side. The sacrifices Gracen was making now would be proved right before this was all over. It wouldn't make what we had to do easier, but we weren't doing this on blind faith. I knew that the United States would come to be, and while far from perfect, it would justify all of the pain we'd go through. Well, it wasn't blind faith on my part. For Gracen, he had to place his trust in me, and being willing to leave was definitely showing that trust.
In some ways, it reminded me of how it'd felt in my unit while we were overseas. I’d been there to stitch them up, take care of their wounds, and they'd had my back. Trust had been crucial there, and it was still crucial here and now. Gracen had to trust that I had his back on this one, just as I had to trust that he had mine.
I ran my hand along Gracen’s chest, the gesture more absent than seductive. “Where do you want to go?”
Gracen answered quickly enough for me to know that he'd already thought that far ahead. “Go to Washington and offer our services. He’ll be able to tell us where we’d be of the most help.”
I scrambled to a sitting position so quickly that Gracen’s expression registered surprise. That was definitely not what I'd been thinking. I'd assumed we'd hide out somewhere, let the war play out the way it had in my past.
“Go to Washington? As in, George Washington?”
“Yes.” He seemed puzzled by my reaction.
“Honey, this is history in the making. I don't think we should interfere.” The possible ramifications made my blood run cold. “We could accidentally change everything.”
He reached out and caught my hand, bringing it to his lips. “How do you know that what we have done so far has not already made changes?”
Shit.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“So,” he continued, “does it not make sense for us to insert ourselves into the action to ensure that your world comes to be?”
I stared at him. “You seem to have given this a lot of thought.”
He shrugged. “The choices we make will have far-reaching consequences.”
He was right. About all of it. For all I knew, in the original timeline, the soldiers Gracen and I had killed, Gracen himself, could've had a major impact on choices the British army had made. A different scout or member of the infantry could make different choices, lead to new information the Brits hadn't had before. It wasn't only the big players like Washington and Jefferson who'd determined the course of the war. Every person had played their part, and my presence could have changed any piece of it.
“All right,” I said finally. “We'll try to find George Washington.”
A sentence I never thought I'd say.
“It will take a couple days to gather the supplies we need and make our travel arrangements. I think it best if we don't announce our intentions.”
“Where will we go?” I asked my original question again.
“Another reason to make preparations while we wait. We need to find out where Washington will be. With his importance to founding your country – our country – he is the one whose future we must guard the most.”
I’d nearly forgotten that there was no White House for him to stay sequestered away like a celebrity. I'd forgotten that, right now, he was an officer and not a very popular one. Looking into the past, we could see the founding fathers as underdogs who rose above expectations to become great, but in their own time, no one could imagine what their lives would become, what the world-wide ramifications of this war would be. How it would turn everything upside-down.
I shook my head, still trying to wrap my mind around it all. Just when I thought I had a grip on it, something new would come along and throw me for a loop. My stomach tightened at the implications.
“What do you think we'll do for Washington? Join the army?” I ran my hand through my tangled hair. “I suppose I could disguise myself as a man again, even though that would make our relationship awkward. But I am a medic, so I could offer my services as a nurse.” While female nurses wouldn't officially be recognized until the Civil War, they'd still been present for prior wars, including this one.
“I was thinking more along the lines of offering to act as civilian spies,” he interrupted my thoughts. “It might be valuable to have a few inconspicuous figures working alongside those fighting.”
Spies. Right. That hadn't ended well for Nathan Hale, though not for another year if I remembered correctly. I was starting to wish I'd have been more eager to read a few of Ennis’ history books so I'd have more details to know how to keep us safe. As it was, I'd have to balance what I did know with what would be the best for the country.
Like Hale. I knew he was executed in the fall of 1776, and that he'd been reported to say, “I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.” There was some debate about whether or not he'd actually said that verbatim, but there was no doubt that reports of how he'd conducted himself had been responsible for sparking quite a bit of the zeal that went into winning the war.
If I tried to save him, would that
make things better or worse? Would America win the war faster with another spy on the inside? Or would the lack of his sacrifice mean fewer people would support the cause?
Or from the opposite side of things. Benedict Arnold. I didn't know much about why he'd become a traitor, or even much of the circumstances around what he did. But his name would become synonymous with treachery, so it clearly had some impact. If I tried to report him before he'd started spying, I could prevent it from happening altogether, or make matters worse by warning him to be more careful so that he didn't get caught...which could have turned the tide of the entire war.
I was starting to get a headache.
I pulled my knees up to my chest, my head swimming with all the possibilities. “Are you sure you want to go so far as to personally offer our services to the colonists? Not supporting the British is a long way from offering to turn on your country.”
“I'm certain,” he said firmly.
I knew that I didn’t look convinced because he chuckled softly, running his fingers through my tousled hair.
“I have never completely agreed with how things have progressed in the colonies, nor with England's treatment of the people here, but I have always kept my opinions to myself. Now, because I believe that what you say will happen is the future for this country, I know that I cannot remain silent any longer.”
I kissed him, putting everything I felt into it. I’d been worried that he was starting to lose his faith in me, but I knew now that we were truly in this together. Knowing how much rested on my shoulders was daunting to say the least, but I could do it as long as I had him.
I wasn’t present when Gracen told his father that we were leaving on the thirtieth of the month. I wasn’t sure what excuse he'd given, and I didn’t ask any questions. I knew that Gracen would have done everything in his power to keep from severing ties with his father completely, but I couldn’t care less if we were welcomed back into the Lightwood estate. Personally, I was hoping Washington would want us somewhere like Philadelphia or even New York. I knew that the Sons of Liberty had been going head to head with British troops for the past ten years in New York and that battles would be fought there in the coming years, but that made it even more important to have strategic people in place.