The Officer's Desire

by Colleen French

  "I told you, I'll not stay."

  He gave her a tired smile. "Unless, of course, you're with child."

  "Is that what that was all about last night?" She lifted an eyebrow.

  "Whatever do you mean?" Devon mocked, looping his arms around her neck. He leaned to kiss her full on the lips.

  She rolled her eyes. "I think I'll sleep on the floor tonight. 'Tis the only way I'll be able to escape your affections and get me proper rest."

  Devon's laughter filled the chilly cabin. "You'll not get away that easily, Cassie Laura. I happen to like sleeping on the floor."

  "Oh you do, do you?" She got to her feet, feigning indignation. "How about sleepin' with the livestock? I suppose you're partial to that as well?"

  Devon shook a finger at her. "I suggest you get your cloak on and get to the hospital cabin before you find yourself in that bed!"

  Cassie giggled, darting to avoid his grasp. "You wouldn't dare. The surgeons will be expecting me if they intend to start inoculating. Someone will come looking for me." She threw her forest-green cloak over her shoulders.

  "A dare? You dare Devon Marsh?" He raced to get to the door ahead of her, blocking her exit. "Ask Mordecai Steele about laying bets with a Marsh. I have a reputation for going to great lengths to better my opponents."

  Cassie burst into laughter and Devon came forward to take her in his arms, pleased that she could finally laugh about the circumstances of their marriage.

  Devon and Cassie worked well into the night inoculating the soldiers of the Continental Army for smallpox. Cassie and the camp surgeons demonstrated the procedure again and again until Devon and other volunteers he'd rounded up got it right. A healthy pock was located on someone in the early stages of the sickness. The pock was punctured with a wooden toothpick and the matter within was scooped up with a quill. The serum was then induced into the arm of the recipient by means of a small cut or puncture made with a lancet. Only one man in a thousand did not recover from the mild case of smallpox that ensued.

  Late that night, Cassie and Devon crawled into bed, so tired they barely had the energy to undress. Snuggled in his arms, she stroked his arm, closing her heavy eyelids. "Doc Taylor says he can do without me now that most of the men have been inoculated. We can set out for Marshview in the morn."

  "No." Devon buried his face in the back of her neck, her hair tickling his nose. "We'll stay a few more days. They'll need help with the men. Mary's been gone three months now—a few more days won't make a difference."

  Cassie molded her body to his, her voice barely audible in the darkness. "We'll find her, Devon. Don't worry. She's got to be out there somewhere."

  "I hope you're right." he answered wearily. Then he added a gentle "thank you."

  "For what?"

  "For caring, Cassie Laura . . . for caring."

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Cassie took a deep breath as Devon handed her down from the horse. Smoothing the wool of the borrowed pelisse she wore, she gazed up at the bright winter sun peeking through the skeleton of an oak just behind the house. Marshview, she thought with trepidation. Home. She tasted the sound of the word on the tip of her tongue. This was a new beginning for her. She'd learned so much in the past few months, fighting at Devon's side. She now knew how important it was that she make her peace with the Marshes and begin to live the life of a wife befitting her husband's station . . . at least for the month they remained in Dover. She was going to make the Marshes like her if it killed her.

  "Don't look so frightened, Cas." Devon toyed with a stray tendril of bright hair. "It's not the gallows you face, only my parents."

  Her lower lip jutted out. "Ye making promises?'

  Devon erupted into laughter, his voice ringing in the crisp morning air. He had already lost the dark circles beneath his eyes, and his mouth was turned up in a whimsical smile. Only Marshview could rejuvenate him like this, Cassie thought to herself. He looked years younger, almost as carefree as the day she had met him in The Patriot tavern. She reached out to adjust his stock as a stablehand led their mounts away.

  They had taken their time traveling south from Morristown—nearly five days. Last night they had stopped in Odessa, only twenty-five miles from Dover. Cassie had insisted they spend the night with a friend of Devon's family. The O'Shaughnessys had been superb hosts, offering a hot meal, warm company, and a soft four-poster bed to sleep in. They had loaned Devon clean breeches, a new shirt and stock, and a crisp coat. Mistress O'Shaughnessy had insisted Cassie take one of her gowns and had even taken in the waist for her. In the morning Cassie and Devon bathed and donned their freshly starched clothes. Only their worn-out boots gave evidence of the hell they'd been through these past months.

  "Shall we go, Mistress Marsh?" Devon held out his arms for her and she accepted it, graciously.

  "Do I look all right?" She tugged at the ladies cocked hat she wore on her head, a rosette fastened on the side to match the bright azure gown.

  "Beautiful." he breathed, leading her up the steps to the front door. "Now keep your chin up and—"

  "I know." she interrupted. "And watch my filthy mouth."

  He laughed, shaking his head. "I wasn't going to say that."

  "Oh no." she countered with a grin. "What were you going to say?"

  "I was going to say, Mistress Cannoneer, to remember that you're a Marsh now, too. Don't take anything off of them. Be kind and courteous, but be yourself." He leaned to brush his lips against hers. "I think we all got started off on the wrong foot in August, but it's time we made amends." Giving her a reassuring squeeze, he swung open the heavy hand-hewn door and stepped back to let her make her entrance.

  There was a hush as Cassie stepped inside the front hall of Marshview's great house. Everyone was there—Devon's father, his mother, the sisters with their husbands and children. Only Mary and her family were missing.

  Devon stared at them all, throwing out his arms. "What? No hug for the war hero?" he bellowed. They all laughed, moving forward at once to be the first to greet him.

  Cassie stood in the shadows of the front room, her chin held high. She watched Devon bow slightly to his father, then grin and step forward to hug him. The older man's eyes grew misty as he held his son tightly, patting him on the back.

  "From word we got here, I feared you'd not be back, son." William stepped back, withdrawing a lace handkerchief from his waistcoat to blow his nose.

  Devon gave a snort. "I'm too mean for that, Father." He gave his young sister Margaret's braid a tug.

  Cassie stared at the wide, polished floorboards, wishing desperately she could melt and become one with the oak. She had had such grand ideas. She'd thought things would be different now that everyone had had time to think. But she guessed she was wrong. Then she heard someone call her name and she looked up. It was Judith, coming to her with her arms spread wide. "Judith!"

  "So good to see you again, Cassie. We were so frightened for you when you disappeared." She squeezed her tightly, whispering in her ear. "Things have been so dull since you left. I've missed you."

  Cassie smiled gratefully. "I didn't mean to cause any worry. You received my message saying I was safe, didn't you?"

  "Oh, yes. But the thought that you were on the front lines . . ." She shuddered. "And then when you didn't come back . . ."

  "I'm fine, none worse for the wear." Cassie was being propelled forward now, on Judith's arm.

  "Oh, we know how you've been. When word first came that there was a woman fighting with the Blue Hens, I knew it was you, I just knew it." She stopped in front of her mother and sisters. "Mother, it's our Cassie. Doesn't she look radiant!"

  Mother Marsh drew a wry smile, leaning to give Cassie a peck on the cheek. "I'm glad you're safe, child." Her smile was genuine.

  Cassie returned the brief kiss, greatly surprised by the concern evident in her voice. They were the first kind words Mother Marsh had spoken to her since she and Devon had been married. "Thank you."

  Th
e other sisters came forward at their mother's lead, giving her pecks on the cheek with exclamations of relief. Cassie wasn't sure how they had changed while she was gone, but the earlier hostility was missing from the air. Maybe it was she who had changed.

  Mother Marsh caught Cassie's arm, leading her into the parlor. "Come rest, I know you must be weary from your long journey." She offered her the horsehair settee. "Sit and we'll have refreshment. Clara." She turned to one of the sisters. "Tea, dear. And not the herbal."

  "Mother!" Corinna piped. "You haven't real tea?" Her bright blue eyes were wide with shock.

  "Who says I haven't? It was smuggled in on the Malmonack, two months ago. Your father brought it to me as a gift, and paid well for it, I'm sure. I've been saving it. Now run and see if the gentlemen care to join us or if they prefer something stronger." Mother Marsh settled on the settee beside Cassie.

  Then there was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Cassie knew she should say something—after all, they were trying so hard to be kind. But she was never much for small talk. She never spoke unless she had something to say. Luckily, Mother Marsh took control of the situation.

  "You must be commended for your bravery. You've become a hero of sorts among us, or should I say heroine?" She smoothed the graying hair at her temples. "That, of course, doesn't mean I approve, but you have guts, girl. I'd have never had the nerve to trail after William." She shook her head. "Still, I don't know what could be in that son of mine's head, to let you do such a crazed thing."

  Cassie laughed nervously. "I can assure you, it has not been to his liking. He's demanded I return to Marshview since the day I arrived in camp."

  Devon stepped inside the door. "You all right, sweet?" He leaned against the door frame, sipping from a hand-blown beaker. He had removed his coat and loosened his stock.

  Cassie gave a nod, pulling the pin from her hat and slipping it from her head. "Fine. Have your drink with your father. We're going to have tea."

  "Oh, you are, are you?" He winked and then disappeared down the hall.

  Late in the afternoon, Cassie lay stretched out on the high four-poster bed in Devon's bedchamber. She was stripped to her chemise, waiting for one of the maids to bring up her gown. The gowns that had been stitched for her in August had all hung in a wardrobe for months and had to be aired before they could be worn. Tonight she and Devon were attending a dinner given in their honor. They had both bathed and were now preparing to dress.

  Cassie lay on her stomach, swinging her feet in the air. The comforter beneath her was as soft as a cloud, as smooth as silk. She rested contentedly, her head propped in her hands, watching Devon, who was seated at the window.

  Cassie couldn't get over the change in Devon since they'd set foot on Marshview this morning. His dark eyes sparkled; there was always a smile on his full lips. His laughter echoed in the hallways; he chased his sisters across the lawn; he sat on a stool in the winter kitchen teasing the maids until their cheeks grew rosy with embarrassment. And best yet, the two of them had not had a cross word all day.

  "Cassie, are you listening to me?"

  She gave a startled look. "Of course, sweet. Hangin' on every word."

  He gave an all-knowing nod. "I see you lying there with that look on your face. Admit it, you hunger for me . . . . You can't keep your eyes off me." he teased.

  Cassie grabbed a pillow and tossed it through the air, knocking him soundly in the head.

  "You've done it now!" he bellowed, crossing the floor between them to leap onto the bed beside her. Cassie squealed, trying to escape his grasp, but he flipped her onto her back and straddled her, pinning her down.

  "Get off me, you big oaf! You're crushin' the life right out of me!" She struggled beneath him, pushing on his broad chest. "Here I am, trying my damnedest to be a proper lady for you and you're jumping on top of me like I'm some tavern doxy!" Her mouth was taut, but her emerald eyes sparkled mischievously.

  "Don't get too ladylike on me." Devon murmured huskily as he flattened his body over hers.

  Cassie lifted her chin to accept his warm lips as she threaded her fingers through his dark, silky hair. "I hope our children have hair like yours." she murmured in his ear.

  "And I hope they have hair like yours." Devon countered, sliding off Cassie to stretch out beside her. "And the same green eyes." he added softly. "I see those eyes day and night. In my sleep your eyes follow me, they protect me."

  Cassie lay on her back, gazing up at Devon. "Don't." She touched his lips with her fingers.

  "Don't what?"

  "Don't make me out to be what I'm not. I'm no lady and I'm no goddess." She stroked his cheek with her hand. "Please don't expect too much from me."

  "Cas, what are you talking about? What are you looking so serious about?" He caught her hand and began to press a kiss to the pad of each finger.

  "I don't know if I can ever do what's expected of me here on Marshview. Your mother, she's so competent, so in control."

  "You don't think she started out that way, do you? She learned just as you'll learn."

  Cassie shook her head. "I'm getting an awfully late start. Your mother was born into a good family. She's always had servants, she's always been somebody."

  "From what I understand, the O'Flynns were somebody." Devon tugged at the grosgrain ribbon around Cassie's neck and pulled the O'Flynn ring from her bodice. He fingered the cold metal, studying the crest.

  Cassie rested her head on the soft comforter, flinging one arm across her forehead. "I want you to be proud of me, Devon."

  "I am proud of you." He leaned over her, his dark hair making a veil over her face. "The greatest thing a man could ask would be for his wife to follow him to the ends of the earth, and you've done it, Cas. . ." He pressed her lips, softly, gently.

  "It's not the same, Devon. The war, it's. . . it's not real."

  "It's not real?" he questioned.

  "I can't explain it, but what I mean is that if we live through it, we're going to have to come back here and spend the rest of our lives. I know how to be a soldier, but I can't be a soldier here. Here I've got to be a lady, a mistress, a planter. I'll never learn it all."

  "You will." He stroked her temple, kissing a springy curl that peeked from behind her ear.

  "Do . . . do you think your mother would help me?" Cassie asked hesitantly.

  "Of course she would." He ran his hand across the soft cotton of her chemise, smoothing the material over her flat stomach. "She'd be honored if you asked."

  Cassie smiled, looping her arms around Devon's neck. "I only hope you love me half as much as I love you."

  "Then you have your wish, twofold, threefold. I love you more than you know." he whispered softly. "Don't ever leave me. I'm naught without you."

  Devon's manservant, Forest, held open the door to The Patriot tavern and Cassie lifted her brocade skirts to step inside. Warm, sentimental emotion washed through her as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior. She'd spent many a contented day in this public room, serving ale and bantering with the customers. "You may wait here, Forest." she directed the bondman, motioning to the table closest to the door. She pulled a copper pence from her drawstring reticule and tossed it to him. "Don't tell your master I'm wasting his hard-earned coin." She gave the young man a grin as she crossed the room to have a seat at another table.

  Removing her pelisse, Cassie slid onto a bench, her back to the wall. It was well past noon and there were few customers about. Four English soldiers sat in the corner near the door, dining on slices of freshly baked bread and hunks of good yellow cheese. There was also a husband and wife in the tavern and a man in a tattered coat slumped over his table, snoring loudly. She couldn't help but smile. It was all so familiar, the smell of bread and ale, the smoke that lingered in the air, the sound of laughter.

  Wondering where George was, Cassie leaned forward, trying to peer behind the curtain that led to the kitchen in the rear. If no one appeared in a minute or so, she would send Forest to look f
or someone. She was Devon Marsh's wife now and she had set her mind to begin acting like the wife of a wealthy plantation owner. It was not appropriate for a lady to travel alone, Devon had explained this morning. But in the same breath he had suggested she go visit her old friends in The Patriot while he had a meeting with his overseer to discuss next year's crops. He had ordered Forest to look after his mistress and follow her bidding. It was Forest who had driven her in the carriage to the Green.

  Cassie looked up at the sound of the curtain to the kitchen swishing as someone moved through it.

  "Good God o' mercy!" shouted Molly with a squeal. "The cat's drug her back again!" She dropped a freshly baked bread pudding on the wooden counter, waddling toward Cassie as fast as her feet could carry her. She was swollen with a child, a grin plastered on her face.

  "Molly!" Cassie got to her feet to throw her arms around her old friend. "Look at you." she exclaimed, shaking a finger. "I told you this would happen, didn't I?" She patted the bench beside her, urging her to have a seat. Pregnant or not, she was pleased to see her old companion.

  "Bite your tongue, Mistress Marsh." Molly ordered good-naturedly, holding up her hand to show a band on her finger. "Wed I am!"

  Cassie broke into a grin, giving the table a pound with her fist. "I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it myself! Ye took my advice, ye found a man to care for you? But why are you still working here?"

  "'Cause I own this here fine establishment!"

  "You own it?" Cassie stared incredulously. "Whatever do you mean? George's sold out?"

  Molly shook her head. "Indeed not. He married me!" she blurted.

  "M-married you?" Cassie stuttered. "What of the mistress?" Her eyes lingered over Molly's swollen abdomen, mentally counting the months past.

  "Died right after you left. The August fever took 'er in a fortnight." Molly ran her hand over her belly. "I'm not as far gone as I look. The midwife says there's two babes a'wigglin' inside." She covered Cassie's hand, her face growing solemn. "Twas in his grievin' time. I was the only one to comfort the poor man."

  Cassie was left speechless. "I never thought you'd do so well, Molly. I'm proud of you."