by DiAnn Mills
“Does it ache?” she asked.
“Not too badly.” He sat down across from her.
“What will you do after you are fully recovered, Jean-Maurice?” Georgette rose to stand behind his chair and rub his shoulders. Six weeks after the shooting, he had regained much of his former strength, though he had not yet regained full mobility in his left arm. He used it to toss a ball for Caramel. The little dog pounced on the toy and brought it back.
“I am uncertain.” Jean-Maurice picked up the slimy ball and threw it again. “Because my identity yet remains unknown, my superiors wish me to organize further spy operations. British spies are everywhere. If we intend to win this war, we must fight fire with fire. I have also been requested to train regular troops in the art of bayonet warfare.”
“You would fight in this war?” Georgette tried to sound brave.
“I had hoped never again to join in combat.”
“Again? You have fought before?”
Silence. Caramel dropped the ball at Jean-Maurice’s feet and woofed for attention. Jean-Maurice obliged by throwing the ball, but his thoughts were obviously elsewhere.
“Did you fight in the Indian wars? Is that what happened when your father returned for you? And you must have fought on the side of the French. But you were only a boy at the time!”
His shoulders tightened. Georgette watched him run one finger up the scar from his collar to his chin. “My childhood ended the day my father came to this house. In the name of war, I have committed atrocities of which I can never speak. As a spy, I was obliged to accept the reputation of a womanizer and pretend to woo another man’s wife, a mistake that nearly cost me all I hold dear. Mere words cannot express the remorse I suffered when you scorned my suit.”
“I recall the Frog defending your reputation to me,” Georgette said in an attempt to lighten his mood.
He shook his head. “Yet you believed me an immoral man even after our marriage, being too innocent yourself to recognize my inexperience with women. I deserved your suspicion, for I had deceived you, lied to you. For all this evil, God has forgiven me, just as you said He would. But how can I fight another war or engage in further intelligence work, knowing I may be obliged to repeat sins of my past?”
Georgette kissed the top of his head. “You would not repeat the past, because now you belong to God. The torment that once burned in your eyes is gone; God’s peace fills you.”
He caught her hand and brought it to his cheek. “Georgette, you are God’s wondrous gift to me. I do not deserve you.” His broken whisper brought tears to her eyes.
“Neither do I deserve you. I know it is difficult for you to speak of your past, but it helps me to understand you better. Whatever comes in our future, Jean-Maurice, I want to enjoy each moment we spend together so that I shall have no regrets. We are one now, and I shall endeavor to assist in any task the Lord assigns you, whether it is to spy for the Whigs or to fight for their army.”
He pulled her into his lap and buried his face in her loose hair. “Woman, if ever I conceal my activities from you again, rest assured that I think only of your safety. I trust you completely. In the past you have been my unwitting accomplice; now you are my mate in every sense.”
Their future loomed cloudy and uncertain, yet Georgette’s heart was at peace. “One bonne grenouille deserves another. Um, Jean-Maurice, how does one say ‘tadpole’ in French?”
“Tetard. Why?”
Georgette merely smiled.
Jill Stengl is the author of numerous romance novels including Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award- and Carol Award-winning Faithful Traitor, and full length historical Until That Distant Day. She lives with her husband in the beautiful North Woods of Wisconsin, where she enjoys spoiling her three cats, teaching high school literature classes, playing keyboard for her church family, and sipping coffee on the deck as she brainstorms for her next novel.
