"Yes, Carla, I understand that, but there's nothing to be done. Everyone must take her turn." Cassie sighed, rolling her eyes heavenward as Carla Mables launched into another Irrelevant dissertation.
Cassie cursed the day the women had begun to file into the army's Morristown winter quarters. Before they had come, the camp had been relatively peaceful. The soldiers followed their orders, standing watches and building the fort walls around them. They all knew the fort was a folly, begun to keep their hands and minds from becoming too idle, but they didn't seem to mind. Anything was better than sitting inside their smoke-filled cabins day in and day out.
When the first women appeared in the camp, there had been rejoicing as families were reunited, but the bickering started almost immediately. Soldiers accused fellow soldiers of indecent dallying with their wives, and the women quibbled over imagined slights and stolen supplies. Food and medical supplies had been short to begin with, then with the extra women and few children, the supplies dwindled more.
Most women brought little more than what they carried on their backs. The usual story was that they had been run off their farms by British soldiers or Tory sympathizers and had nowhere else to go. A few women, most officers' wives, came just to be near their husbands. These women brought wagons of dried beef, potatoes, and wool clothing. Word had it that General Washington's own good lady, Martha, was on her way.
"Mistress O'Flynn, are you listening to me?" Carla Mables brought Cassie back to her present problem.
"I'm sorry, Carla." Cassie lifted the hood of her green cloak to cover her head. The fact remains that if you're to share in the communal meals, you'll have to work in the sick cabin with the rest of us. Why should you eat our potatoes when you haven't worked for them?" Cassie glanced at the runny-nosed child that peeked from behind her mother's billowing skirts.
Carla gave a huff, but said nothing. Like most of the women in the camp, she didn't like Cassie, but was fearful of her. "All right, I'll be there after supper." she answered begrudgingly. "But I'll have to bring little Hannah with me."
"Nope, sorry." Cassie lifted the latch of the door in the Mableses' tiny cabin. The walls were so poorly chinked that it seemed as cold inside as out. "No children. Several men are ill with high fevers and we don't know what it is yet. You don't want her sick, do you?"
"So what am I to do with her?" Carla's hands flew to her hips.
"Leave her with her papa. He's got two legs, hasn't he? Let him run after her!" With that, Cassie was out the door, slamming it behind her.
"There you are." Devon caught the sleeve of Cassie's cloak and steered her, none too gently, toward the nearest cabin.
"God Almighty and saints in hell! What have I done now?" Cassie groaned impatiently. They stepped inside the kitchen-cabin and she spun around to face him. She was tired and aggravated and didn't honestly want to hear it.
"You canceled my furlough!" he boomed.
She nodded sheepishly. "Several men have come down with a fever. I thought I'd better stay a day or two to look after them."
Devon swung his fist through the air. "That's what the blasted surgeons are for! How could you do this? You promised you'd return to Dover."
"And I will. I just put it off for a few days." Her fingers lingered on the O'Flynn signet ring that hung on a green ribbon around her neck.
"I'm leaving tomorrow and you're going with me if I have to gag and bind you, do you understand me?" His dark eyes bore down on her. "You don't always get your way, Cassie. I'll not spend the rest of my life dictated by your whims. Now you'd better make up your mind whether you want to be a wife or a general!"
Cassie watched Devon duck out the door, slamming it behind him. Her eyes were still wide with surprise. How'd that bug get in his breeches, she thought wearily. Shaking her head, she stared at the bare shelves, meant to store food, that lined the walls of the cabin.
An hour later, Cassie started making rounds. Carrying a basket in her arms, she banged on the first cabin door. A soldier stuck out his head and she gave him a nod. "Afternoon, Taylor. Got anything to contribute?"
"You making soup, Cassie?" He held the door fast, trying to keep out the snow that blew from the north.
"I am if I find enough generous people. How about a potatoe or a carrot?"
A moment later Taylor was back dropping vegetables into her basket. "A carrot for me, a turnip for Joe and Connor, and salt for Marvin." He pressed a tiny paper packet into her gloved hand.
"Thank you, boys, I'll bang the pot when it's ready." She looked across the compound to the shadow of the newly erected wall. "The fort's looking good." she commented, turning to go.
"Yea, except we're all beginning to wonder if the general's going to order us to take it down once it's up."
Cassie laughed, waving good-bye over her head. "So work slower and hope we get an early spring."
Moving from cabin to cabin at the foot of Thimble Mountain, Cassie asked for contributions to her soup basket. Soldiers gave what they had: a few peppercorns, a shriveled onion, a piece of dried venison. Those who had nothing to give were invited for a bowl of soup just the same. Other women followed Cassie's lead and soon the entire camp smelled of boiling vegetable soup.
When the soups were brewed, soldiers lined up at the open cookfires where pots of hearty broth with vegetables floating on top simmered. The men passed by holding out an old tin cup or a cracked china bowl for their portion. They laughed among themselves, making plans for an evening of cards and a sip of whiskey for those who were lucky enough to still have some. It would feel good to retire with a full belly for a change.
When the last man in Cassie's area had had his fill, she ladled herself out a cup and went in search of Devon. It had been hours since she'd seen him and she doubted he'd eaten. When she found their own cabin empty, she stoked the fire to keep it from going out and went to check Mordecai's. There were only five officers sharing his cabin, though the enlisted men slept twelve to a building.
Cassie sipped at her brew, tightening her cloak around her neck as she rapped on the door. Light streamed through the doorway as it was pushed open by a young lieutenant missing his breeches.
"Yes, ma'am." He hiccuped contentedly.
"Have you seen my husband?" She took a sip of her soup, trying not to laugh aloud as the young man swayed in the door trying to recall if he'd seen Marsh.
"Yes, ma'am." He bobbed his head. "Believe he's inside."
"Might you get him for me?" She raised an eyebrow, a hint of amused sarcasm on her breath.
The wooden door slammed shut only to open again a minute later. It was the lieutenant again, still minus his breeches. "If you'll pardon me for saying so, ma'am." The lieutenant belched sharply. "He says for you to go straight to hell. He's gettin' shitfaced."
The door slammed in Cassie's face and she slid to the ground to sit on the log step. She erupted into laughter as she sipped on her soup, warming her hands with the metal of the cup. If she wasn't so tired, she wouldn't have thought it was funny. She knew Devon had to be well in his cups to have sent such a message. Cassie leaned against the door, pulling her feet beneath her. In the alcove she was safe from the wind and wasn't overly cold. She wondered if she should go inside and drag Devon out, or leave him to find his own way home.
Deciding he deserved some time to himself, she returned to her cabin to do some mending. She had an entire basket of woolen socks to darn and one of Devon's two linen shirts to patch. She hoped a few hours with the other men and a few cups of whiskey would do him some good. Two hours or more must have passed when she heard two distinct male voices singing outside her cabin.
When she swung the door into the night, her hand flew to her mouth. It was Devon and Mordecai arm in arm singing an inane ditty, both of them crocked to the ears.
"Brought the mas'ther home to hiss castle." Mordecai chirped, steadying himself against Devon. "S-sorry 'bout his condition, but"—he shrugged—"a man's entitled to an occasional"—he hiccuped—"drink."
; Devon raised his eyelids, waving at Cassie as Mordecai dragged him into the cabin. "'Lo there, sweet." He released Mordecai to take a step in Cassie's direction, but stumbled and went down on one knee.
Cassie ran to his side. "Up you go." She tugged on his arm, trying to raise him, but he pulled her down, wrapping his arms around her waist. She rolled her eyes. "I think I can take over from here, Mordecai. Thank you. Can you find your way home?"
"Actually." He licked his bottom lip, leaning on the doorjamb. "There's a c-certain young lady only a few cabins down who's invited me . . ." He hiccuped. "Pardon me! Has invited me in for . . . to . . ." He gave Cassie a schoolboy grin. "Well, you know."
"I hope she's no one's wife!"
Mordecai threw up his hands in exaggerated protest. "C-certainly not to my knowledge." He saluted her, turning so sharply to go that he ran into the doorframe.
Cassie winced, trying to pry herself from Devon's grappling hands. "You sure you're going to be all right, Mordecai? You don't seem to be in the condition for, um, visiting."
"Pshaw! I—I can can handle that young lady with my hands t-tied behind my back." He gave her a wink as he went out the door. "Might even t-try it!"
With Mordecai gone, Cassie tried to raise her husband. "Get up, you big oaf, you can't sleep on the floor. You'll catch a chill."
He groaned, trying to get to his feet with her assistance. He reeked of whiskey. His coat and hat were missing, his linen shirt was ripped to his navel, one stocking was rolled down to his ankle, and his hair had come out of the queue to fall beguilingly over one cheek. Cassie couldn't help but laugh. He was as helpless as a babe.
Coaxing him to his feet, she eased his massive frame onto the bed and began to strip off his clothes. The sensation of Cassie's hands on his flesh brought him out of his stupor. "Cas?" he called out, opening one eye. "Th-that you, sweet?"
"It had better be! Now lift your leg so I can get the other stocking off." She rolled the heavy cotton down the length of his hairy leg, unable to resist stroking the muscles of his calf as she removed the stocking.
"C'mere, wench." he ordered, reaching for her. "Just—just can't resis-st me, can you?"
Cassie slapped his hand away playfully. "Unhook your breeches, if you can that is."
"Oh, no." He was smiling at her now with a half-crooked grin. "You do it!"
"You're drunk."
He gave a nod of his head. "That I am, but not t-too drunk if you'll give me a little help." he replied thickly.
Cassie couldn't help but grin. He hadn't been in this good a mood in days. She shook her head. "I can't believe the two of you. For shame!" she teased.
Devon caught her arm, knocking her off balance, and pulled her down on top of him. Before Cassie knew what had happened, she found her mouth on his, sampling the taste of whiskey on his lips. "Not even good liquor." she murmured.
Devon flipped her over on her side, burying his face in the valley between her breasts. "Ah Cassie, how can you smell like wildflowers when it's the middle of winter?"
His hot breath on her skin sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. "'Tis soup I smell like." She giggled, unable to resist his drunken good humor.
"Ah, Cassie, Cassie Laura." He stroked the hair at her temples, staring down at her. "You never told me your name was Cassie Laura."
"Ye never asked." She brushed her hand over the mat of hair that peeked from his whiskey-stained shirt. He has the darkest, most mysterious brown eyes I've ever laid eyes on, she thought, raising her head to touch his lips with her own.
Devon groaned, accepting her mouth, tasting the honey of her lips as her tongue flicked out to taunt him. Closing his mouth down over hers, he strained against her, unable to satisfy his hunger for her. When Cassie withdrew for want of air, she laughed, threading her fingers through his unbound hair. "You're a good kisser, you know that?"
"Oh, I am, am I?" He toyed with a lock of her hair, wrapping it around and around his finger. "And how many gents have you kissed that you might make that assess"—he stumbled over the word—"assement!"
"I'd be a liar if I said you were the first." She followed the hard line of his jaw with her index finger. "But you're definitely the best."
With a growl, Devon rolled on top of her, pinning her hands above her head. He buried his face in her heavy hair, breathing the heady scent of her alluring femininity. "God you're beautiful." he murmured in her ear. "So beautiful, you take my breath away."
She smiled up at him, blushing at his comment. It was often that he complimented her these days. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." she whispered back.
"No." He shook his head, bestowing her with his smoldering gaze. "Your beauty is in here as well." He tapped her left breast lightly. "You're too good for me, Cassie O'Flynn."
"And you're too drunk for me." she told him, making light of his words.
Devon lowered his body down on hers, nuzzling the soft flesh of her neck. He ran his hand down the length of her side, memorizing every curve, every inch of soft flesh. "Aren't you hot in all of these clothes?" His head was clearer now, but his speech was still slightly slurred.
Her eyelids fluttered open. "Do I look hot to ye?"
"Looks like you're burning up." he told her huskily, already tugging at her shirt. In only a moment's time, they were both naked, stretched out on the coarse wool blankets, bathing in a glow of love. Cassie couldn't take her eyes from Devon's as he stroked her breasts, her stomach, her long, shapely legs.
"I could never get enough of you." he whispered, pressing his lips to one taut breast. Cassie arched her back, guiding his mouth to her pink nipple, moaning when he caught it between his teeth.
Cassie could feel the heat in her loins rising with each kiss, each caress of his skilled hands. No matter how many times they made love, it was always as good—in fact, it was better. He stroked her flesh, murmuring endearments until all conscious thought was gone from her mind. She could think of nothing but his flesh against hers, smoldering desires yearning to be set free.
Cassie's breath came faster, her hips rising and falling beneath his searing touch as she ran her hands over his back, wrapped in the silky web of love he spun. Guiding his hips with her hands, she arched her back to accept the evidence of his love within her. Devon groaned, kissing the soft flesh of her neck, moving slowly against her, then picking up speed. A heavy-limbed aching encompassed Cassie as she lifted herself in reception of each thrust. Just ahead she could see the splintering shards of fulfillment. She could taste them on her love-bruised lips.
Devon enfolded Cassie in his arms, half lifting her, murmuring words of encouragement as he drove harder to meet her demands. Looping her arms around his neck, she cried out in ecstasy again and again until finally, he, too, was spent.
Cassie held tightly to Devon as he eased her back onto the bed and slid beside her, drawing her into his arms. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the tremors of impassioned glory to subside. Finally, as her breath came easier, she opened her eyes to peer up at him through a veil of dark lashes.
Devon lowered his head to take in her emerald eyes. "She lives." he whispered, kissing her lightly on the lips.
The corners of Cassie's mouth turned up with contentment. "You weren't as drunk as I thought." Her voice was still strained and throaty.
Devon laughed, his deep tenor voice echoing in the tiny cabin. This was the way she liked to see him, laughing, the worry lines gone from his face. "Sleep, my love." he murmured, pressing his lips to her eyelids. "Sleep and dream of me, loving you, needing you."
"I will." Cassie returned softly, snuggling in his arms. "But only if you promise to do the same." She stroked his forehead, brushing the raven locks at his temples, her eyes shut. "Good night, Master Marsh."
"Good night, Mistress Marsh."
The next morning Cassie heard Devon coming through the cabin door, and felt the cold rush of wind go up her skirt as he slammed it shut. "I'll be ready directly. Got the horses saddled?" Her back
was to him as she stuffed her extra skirt in her canvas bag.
"No." Devon answered flatly.
She spun around. "Why not?" Her brows furrowed in concern. "What's wrong?"
He slid his hat off his head and tossed it onto their bed. "We're not going anywhere."
"What are you talking about? The message has already been sent to Marshview. They'll be expecting us."
"They'll have to wait." Devon sat on the log stool, leaning to rest his face in his palms. "It's smallpox, Cas. No one is going anywhere."
For a moment Cassie just stood there, stunned. Then she was at his side, kneeling. "I'm sorry." she whispered. "You've already been inoculated; we'll go home in a few days." She sat back. "How many have come down with it?" She could feel her insides twisting with fear, not for herself but for the soldiers. A smallpox epidemic could wipe an army out.
"Seven, but the surgeon expects more cases by nightfall." He raised his head to take in the sweet curve of her lips. "You know how it spreads like fire."
She gave a nod, resting her hands on his knees. "What are they going to do?"
"Isolate the outbreaks and start inoculating everyone left in the camp. General Washington has ordered that henceforth every man, woman, or child that enters the camp will immediately be inoculated. New soldiers coming in from Philadelphia will be treated before they join us." He ran a hand over her head, fingering a long braid that trailed down her back. "You have been inoculated, haven't you?"
She shook her head no as he grasped her shoulders. "How could you be so foolish?" His concern for her was plain on his face.
"Simmer down!" She took his hand, pressing her lips to it. "I had the cow pox as a child. I can't get smallpox."
Devon heaved a sigh of relief. "Don't scare me like that, Cas. We've come too far together—I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Does that mean you've changed your mind, you'll let me stay?" She lit up with a bright smile.
"No! It does not." His eyes widened with determination as he reached to tweak her freckled nose. "I still intend to leave you home at Marshview one way or the other."
The Officer's Desire Page 28
