"Father . . ." Cassie heard Devon repeat again. He was still only half awake.
"Now you get that whore out of here before your mother comes down to breakfast or there'll be hell to pay." the voice went on.
Cassie crossed the room to stand by the door so she could hear Devon's low, even voice.
"Father, she's my wife. I married her last night."
"You what?"
Cassie's hands flew to her ears. Never in her life had she heard such a voice! It was enough to make anyone tremble.
"I married her last night. Now if you'll excuse me, sir, I've got to make a trip to the—"
"You married whom?"
Cassie moved to the window. She'd heard enough to know she was in trouble. Leaning on the deep sill, she looked out on the freshly tilled fields. The land was breathtaking with its long green lines of tobacco etched in the rich, dark soil. She pushed open the window and leaned out, inhaling deeply.
It did her heart good to see farmland unmarred by war and camps of soldiers. How many fields had she traipsed through as a child, the crops burned to a black stubble? This was indeed a land of rebirth; it was a land to heal wounds. She stared down at the rows of small, neat cottages. For the workers who lived in those houses, this was a land of opportunity. A man and his wife could sell themselves into indenture to pay their passage to the Colonies, and when those years passed, they could buy their own small farm and raise their family. For most, this was the land of freedom.
After all, wasn't that why she'd come? Cassie closed her eyes. She'd come to make her own way in the world, to share in a bit of the adventure, to perhaps someday own her own tavern on the outskirts of town. But where was her freedom now? On a whim she had just bound herself to a man she didn't know. At least with Master George, she'd always seen an end to it. The day she arrived in Annapolis and was sold on the block, she knew that in the summer of 1777, she'd be a free woman. Now, only death could free her from this man.
Cassie turned from the window, wrapping the coverlet closer to her body. "What have I done?" she asked the empty room. She shook her head. How could she ever have been so foolish? What had she been thinking? And why such a wealthy man? She was no fortune hunter! She had never meant to marry a man just to be cared for!
Dropping the coverlet to the floor, she retrieved her rumpled clothes and began to dress. Where is Devon, she thought. We've got to talk about this.
When a knock came at the door, Cassie tucked her shirt into her homespun skirt and opened the door. "Yes?"
"Master Devon sent me up with your breakfast." The maid pushed her way past Cassie, carrying a linen-covered tray to the side table. "He says to tell you he'll be up shortly." She rested her hands on her hips, scrutinizing Cassie from head to foot. "So, how'd you do it? That's what we want to know." The pug-nosed brunette adjusted her starched mop cap.
Cassie stiffened at the tone of her voice. Who did this insolent wench think she was? "How did I do what?" She raised an eyebrow.
The maid threw up a hand. "Get 'im to marry you, of course!" Her eyes narrowed speculatively. "Blueskin and Rosy are laying coin that you're carrying his brat. Me, I haven't put in my money yet" She stared at Cassie's middle.
Cassie's gaze grew cold; her hand ached to strike the girl. "I owe you no answer." She moved to remove the linen napkin from the tray and pour herself some tea. "But"—she turned slowly to face her—"if you don't keep a civil tongue in your head, I'll rip it out."
The maid's eyes flew open, her mouth forming a perfect "O." No one at Marshview ever talked like that!
"Do you understand me?" Cassie took a sip of the colonial-grown herb tea. "This tea is cold. Fetch me a fresh pot and have water and a tub sent up for my bath." She leaned against the table, buttering a fresh muffin.
The maid bobbed her head and grabbed the pot, hurrying out the door.
Cassie broke into a grin the moment the door clicked shut. She had to pat herself on the back—she'd handled that rather well. She took a bite of the sweet muffin. Fetch water for my bath! No one had ever fetched water for her in her life! But she'd often imagined what it would be like when she hauled bucket after bucket of water to her attic loft to pour it in the old washtub. Taking a second muffin, Cassie sat in the overstuffed wing-back chair, drawing her legs up under her. Maybe this life wouldn't be so bad. Imagine having someone bring tea and muffins up every morning!
Devon leaned against his father's bookcase, which was filled with precious leather-bound volumes. "I really don't think now is the time to discuss this, sir."
"The hell it isn't. How could you do such a thing?" William Marsh paced the room furiously. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't heard it with my own ears. I thought you were going to marry Anne."
"No." Devon shook his head, his anger rising. "I told you I wasn't. Christmas, remember? You threatened to disinherit me if I didn't follow through with your wishes." He crossed his hands over his bare chest. "I told you I didn't love her, Father."
"And what, you love this servant?" he bellowed. "This girl you met yesterday?"
"Yes, I do love her." Devon returned with equal fury. "And she is indentured. She sold her services to get to the Colonies."
"First you run off and join the army, and now this." William sat in his leather chair to pull on his riding boots. "You don't give a tinker's damn about Marshview!"
"You're wrong, Father." Devon's eyes grew dangerously dark. "But if I don't get out there and fight, there won't be a Marsh view." His fists tightened at his sides. "And as for Cassie, frankly, sir, that's none of your business. She is the woman I've chosen to be my wife."
"Well, let me tell you something." William shook a finger at his son. "Don't come asking me to get you out of this in a few days, because I won't do it!" He slammed his foot into a boot.
Devon made his way to the door. "I have no intentions of asking. I married Cassie O'Flynn because I wanted to, because I want her to be the mother of my children and the mistress of this house someday." He turned back to face him. "I think the family could use a little fresh blood, don't you?"
William glared at his only son. He loved the boy so much. He just wanted the right things for him. He didn't want to see him killed on the battlefield, and he didn't want to see him trapped in the wrong marriage.
"Well, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go get dressed and see to my new bride." Devon's voice was clipped. "You will be here this evening, won't you? I'll want all of you to meet Cassie." Without waiting for a reply, he slipped out the door and closed it quietly behind him.
Leaning against the paneled door, Devon closed his eyes. Why did everything always have to be so damned difficult with his father? He wiped his mouth. His head was pounding and his mouth tasted as if it were stuffed with a bolt of cotton. What he needed was more sleep. He and Cassie had spent most of the night making love, and he was in dire need of a few hours' rest.
Slowly, Devon climbed the front stairs, sending two housemaids squealing from the hall when they spotted him bare-chested and bare-footed, wearing only a pair of wrinkled breeches. When he reached his own door at the end of the hall, he hesitated, leaning against it. The floor was spinning and he needed a drink. From inside the room he could hear the sound of splashing water.
Cassie looked up when the door opened. "Good morning." she said, her cheeks coloring. It seemed strange to see Devon in the light of the day. Devon . . . her husband. "How did you fare?"
He walked to the bed and let himself fall backward onto the soft tick. It seemed so odd to have Cassie here in his bedchamber. "Not too bad. Father's got quite a temper, but he'll get over it. Last year my sister Corinna got pregnant by Father's partner's son and they had to marry. That bluster lasted for weeks." He closed his eyes to block out the bright morning sun.
"Well, why shouldn't he be mad? You'd feel the same way if your only son had just married some skirt off the street." She lathered her arm with a big sponge, watching the suds fall into the water. "How many sisters have yo
u got anyway?"
"Too many. Seven at last count. Is there any wine left?" He sat up.
"No, we drank it all last night . . . or was it this morning?" A smile played on her lips.
Devon couldn't help smiling back. Cassie was more irresistible than he remembered last night. "I don't know, when was it?" He dipped into the tub as he went by, leaving suds on the end of her nose with the flick of his finger.
She watched him move to the windows and untie the curtains one by one, letting them fall. Even in his crapulous state, he was still the most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes on. Yes, but what has that got to do with anything, she asked herself. You've still married a man you don't know. She followed Devon with her eyes through the semidarkness. He was taking his breeches off and climbing into bed. She was hoping he would say something . . . something to reassure her.
"I asked my sister Mary to find you something decent to wear. After I get a little sleep, we'll go down to the tavern, get your things, and take care of Old George." His eyes drifted shut.
Cassie came out of the tub, water streaming from her. "Something decent to wear! Have you lost your senses?" She grabbed a soft towel from the chair and wrapped it haphazardly about her body. Water ran in rivulets from her to puddle on the floor. "Seemed that my clothes were decent enough last night when you wanted to get me between the sheets!" She knew she was overreacting, but she couldn't help it. The thought that she'd bound herself to this man for the rest of her life frightened her.
"Cassie, that's not what I meant." He sat up. "It's just that you've got to meet my family. I want them to like you."
She crossed the room to the bed and stood dripping on the coverlet. "I don't care if I'm meeting General Washington himself. You don't insult me like that! No one does!"
"I didn't mean—"
"How dare you! I thought it didn't matter to you who I was or what I wore. I thought you liked me for me. I could have sworn last night I heard you say you—" She cut herself off, turning her back to him. She was furious with him . . . with herself. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have ever thought this might work? "The devil with it." she murmured under her breath. She made her way to the door, grabbing her clothes off the chair.
"Cassie? Where are you going?" Devon ran to the door. "You haven't got any clothes on." he yelled down the hall after her. "You can't run through my mother's house like that!"
"Better than to stay in there with you." she shouted back, turning to face him, her towel revealing more than it covered.
He debated for a moment whether or hot to get his breeches on, but decided against it. By the time he got them on, she'd be downstairs in the front hall. "Cassie!" He ran down the long hall after her. "Come back. I'm sorry. Just get back in the room!"
At that moment a door swung open, and a young girl popped her head out. "Heaven's mercy." she cried out. "Devon, what are you doing?" Her pale blue eyes went from Devon to Cassie before she flung up her hands to cover them. "Mama! Mama!" she screeched. "Devon's chasing a naked woman down the hall!" With a bang, she slammed her bedchamber door, and slid the bolt.
Suddenly, Cassie burst into laughter. It was so funny! Devon running down the hall after her. Him trying to cover his nakedness from his sister.
"What is so funny?" He grabbed her, propelling her toward his room as fast as he could move her. "It's not funny. Stop laughing." He was smiling by now. "Mother is going to have my hide!"
The more Devon said, the harder Cassie laughed. She couldn't believe this was happening. The whole thing was so silly! She knew she'd taken offense over her clothing when none had been intended. What had possessed her to run down the hall nearly naked?
"Stop laughing." Devon shoved her in the door and closed it behind them. "How do you think I'm going to be able to face Margaret at the evening meal?" He tried to be stern, but the look on Cassie's face made him break into laughter. It really was all rather funny. "Oh, what have we done, Cassie girl?" He pulled the towel from her, and drew her damp body close to his. "I've never laughed so much in my life as I have in the last day with you."
She tightened her arms around his neck, snuggling close. She knew she would never tire of the feeling of his hard, sinewy body pressed against her own soft, rounded flesh. Their bodies seemed to mold together as if God had formed them as one and then split them apart. "I don't know." Her voice grew serious. "What have we done?" She held him tight, afraid of what he might say.
He tipped her head back to stare into her deep green eyes. "What I was trying to tell you before you ran out, Mistress Hothead, was that I love you." He brushed the bright, wet hair from her face. "So this was a spur of the moment thing; it still feels right . . . here." He took her hand, pressing against his bare chest where she could feel his beating heart. "Tell me you love me, Cassie O'Flynn."
"Cassie Marsh, to you, sir." She stuck out her chin, then softened. "I love you." she whispered. "I don't know why, but I really do."
His lips brushed hers and then he was staring into her eyes again. "We can make this work, love."
"You think so?" She searched his stag-brown eyes for sincerity.
"I've never met a girl like you." He stroked her hair, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I can't explain it You make me feel so good . . . so alive."
"You're not sorry you married me?" Her heart pounded. Please, she begged silently, let him say no.
"I'd do the same if I had it to do over again." He tipped her head back, to press a kiss to her lips.
She closed her eyes, enjoying the warm, tingling sensations Devon sent through her body. Maybe everything was going to be all right. Maybe she wasn't a fool.
"Now"—he dropped a kiss on the end of her freckled nose—"do you think we could get some sleep?"
Chapter Six
"Where did this come from?" Cassie sighed in awe, holding the apple-green gown up in front of her. "I don't think I've ever seen such a beautiful dress in my life." She lowered the gown to stare at Devon lying stretched out on the bed. "Is it really for me?"
Devon laughed. It was so easy to make her happy. "Of course it's for you, and there'll be plenty more when I can get Mother's dressmaker out here for fittings." Getting up from the bed, he went to Cassie, wrapping his arms around her slim waist. "I had it sent over from my sister Corinna's. I thought the two of you were about the same size." He brushed his lips against Cassie's. "Though I fear it will be a bit short at the hem."
She laughed, her green eyes sparkling as he ripped the gown from her arms and tossed it carelessly onto the bed. "Watch it, you'll wrinkle the best dress I've ever owned with your silliness!"
"No silk and brocade are going to come between my wife and me, Mistress Marsh." He ran his fingers through her fragrant hair, crushing his mouth against hers. "I just can't get enough of you." he murmured in her ear.
Cassie held tightly to his neck, pressing her body against his. They were preparing to go to The Patriot, and she was more than a little nervous. Devon had insisted they return for her things immediately so that he could pay Master George for her remaining year of indenture. What would her friends in the tavern think? What would they say? Would they say she'd sold herself again, this time for life?
"Now, come." Devon patted her playfully on the bottom. "Get the dress on so we can be on our way. There's a whole pile of lacy underthings and a pair of slippers, if you want them." He released Cassie, unable to resist tugging on a curl as she reached for the green gown again.
"I'll take the slippers, but I've really no need for the other stuff." she told him as she pulled the gown over her own shift. "I've gotten along fine all these years without freezing my tail off, no need to start with 'em now."
Devon shook his head, removing a freshly laundered shirt from the bedpost. "Cassie, you have to wear underclothes." He slipped the fine linen over his head and adjusted his stock. "All ladies wear underthings."
Cassie spun around, struggling to push the yards of material over her waist. "Since whe
n have I been a lady? I doubt any lady would've agreed to such carryings-on as you just saw on that bed of yours!" Her voice was laced with a mixture of good-naturedness and sincerity.
Devon lifted his eyebrows. He could already see that his wife's honesty was going to be a problem. "Cassie, it's really not ladylike to speak to a gentleman of—" He broke off, searching for the right words.
"What? You don't think I've got the sense not to talk of our loving in front of your parents!" She finally managed to get the gown on. "Button me up, please." She presented her back to him. "What do you think I am?" She giggled. "I'll not say anything of your prowess to embarrass you. But I'll say anything I like here in your chambers." She turned back to face him, her eyes searching his amused face. That's the way it's got to be with a man and a woman, Devon."
He took her by the hands, spreading them so he could look at her. The color suits you, looks better than it ever did on Corinna."
"Don't you think I'm right?"
He released her hands and went back to dressing. "I do, Cassie. I don't think there are many husbands and wives who can say they're truly honest with one another." He shook his head thoughtfully. "Certainly not my mother and father."
Cassie knelt to roll up one of his stockings. "But we're going to promise each other, aren't we? You're going to swear to always be honest with me no matter how much you think it might hurt me." Her hand tightened around his calf. "Swear it."
Devon put out a hand to her. "Get up. You're my wife, you needn't roll my stockings." He pushed her onto the bed beside him, keeping her hand in his. "I promise I'll always be honest, all right?"
She nodded. "I just wanted to hear you say it."
"Are you always this intense, Cassie?" Devon stood up, reaching for a honey-colored coat.
"I don't know what you mean." She crossed the room to stare at her reflection in the oval, beveled mirror. She was shocked at what she saw. Was this really Cassie O'Flynn in this fine gown and heeled leather slippers?
"You just seem to take everything so seriously." He came to stand behind her, looking into the mirror.
The Officer's Desire Page 6
