“He is a very busy man.” Sebastian knew he should go after Cromwell to discover what was happening. When he saw Osborne leave the other men in the barnyard and trot after Cromwell, he relaxed. His lieutenant would report back every detail in an effort to gain favor.
“Yes,” Faith said, spreading more corn for the chickens although scores of kernels were underfoot.
“However, it seems that your father is anxious for you and me to talk once again.”
“Yes.”
He did not give voice to the curse resonating through his head. These terse answers must be aimed at infuriating him. If so, she was succeeding.
“Do you know why?” he asked.
She gave him a contemptuous glance. Maybe she wanted him to feel like a fool rather than just be angry. Walking into the smaller of the two barns behind the house, she hung the bucket on a nail behind a half-wall. “I have heard much prattle about the fancy gatherings in England where young women flirt with young men.”
“Yes?”
Her eyes widened at his copy of her brusque answers, but she folded her arms on the half-wall and smiled. “No matter how you view us here in Pennsylvania, Major, we are not so different from our cousins on the other side of the ocean. My father is very much like your father would be, assuming your father has a daughter he believes should be thinking of a husband.”
“My father was quite focused on that matter when my older sister had her Season in London.”
“So you understand.”
He stepped over some odorous droppings on the floor. He faced her across the low wall and copied her pose, his elbow only the breadth of a dust mote from hers. Smiling, he said, “I understand that the very idea of speaking to me offends you greatly.”
“Offends may be too strong a word.”
“Your expression says different.” He laughed when she regarded him with amazement. “I do not know what I have done to earn your rancor, Mistress Faith, when I have endeavored in every possible way to treat you with kindness.”
“You have.”
“Ah, now I see the truth. You are distressed with me because I did not halt my men from bothering you when we first met.” He glanced toward where his men were still cleaning their saddles in front of the stone-and-wood barn that rose nearly as high as a London town house. “I can assure you that I stopped them as soon as I saw what was happening.”
“I am quite aware of that. I did not mean to suggest otherwise.” She turned to step past him.
He edged forward to stand in the middle of the opening in the low wall. “You have made it quite clear that you consider both me and my men as disgusting as a snake slithering through the grass.”
“To the contrary, Major. A snake has a good reason for being here. It keeps the barn clear of pests.”
“As we are ordered to do.”
“Really?” She put her hands on the ribbons of the brightly embroidered apron she wore over her simple cream dress and scowled at him. He was tempted to tell her that her fury was squandered because he could think only of how his hands itched to discover if they could span her slender waist. “It seems that British soldiers are determined to make pests of themselves here.”
“Those sound like rebellious sentiments from a loyalist’s daughter.”
“This has nothing to do with politics.”
“Then I suspect it has everything to do with the fact that the run-in you had with my men was not your first with British soldiers.”
“No.” She stared at the floor.
Sebastian clasped his hands behind his back. “You need not be ashamed of what has happened. ’Tis not your fault if your loveliness has persuaded lonely men to forget their manners, although you would be wise to stay close to your home.”
“Here—where I have suffered the most when your fellow officers have deemed that the guise of hospitality suggested something more?” She looked up at him, and he realized he had mistaken her downcast eyes as a sign of shame. She had been attempting to conceal her fury. “Major Kendrick, if you will step aside, I will gladly leave you to whatever tasks you have to do today while I complete mine.”
“I thought you were to show me other landmarks.”
“Father showed you the important ones.”
“And the others?”
Faith regarded Major Kendrick with a frown. He might not be grabbing at her as other officers had done, but he was even more intolerable. Last night, she had ducked beneath his arm to evade him. She did not want to do the same again today.
Noting the glitter of amusement in his eyes, she said, “I would be glad to point out landmarks that you may use while you continue your journey.”
“I am not certain in which direction we will travel next.”
“Why not?” she asked, trying to ignore the way her heart seemed to be having a difficult time beating. If this major and his men remained here, her deliveries to Tom Rooke would be made so much more difficult.
“My orders are not complete.”
“Then you should have waited until they were before you left the garrison in Philadelphia.”
Major Kendrick laughed, startling her because she had been certain that he would be angry at her mocking tone. “My orders are dependent on what the rebels’ leaders do next.”
“The leaders? In the Continental Congress? They are not here in Chester County.”
“True.” He chuckled. “York is the rumored sanctuary of the rebels now.”
“You are going to be a busy man, Major, if you are to deal with them and the folks here.”
“Which is why I would appreciate your help now, Mistress Faith.”
She nodded, and he stepped aside so she could move out from behind the wall. As she went with him out of the small barn, she heard a rumble of laughter and her name spoken by Major Kendrick’s men. He must have heard it, as well, because he glanced in their direction. The laughter was silenced.
Faith’s breath caught in spite of what she had already seen on the road. Major Kendrick expected instant obedience from his men. Did they fear him, or respect him? She shivered, recalling the captain who had disciplined one of his men so severely that the man almost died. If Major Kendrick was of that ilk, she was stupid to challenge him again and again as she had. His temper might explode to hurt her. Yet, to acquiesce might be even more perilous.
“Cold?” he asked.
“Yes.” She could not tell him the truth.
He unbuttoned the collar of his cloak and settled it over her shoulders. “This may help.”
She fought another shiver. This one was definitely not from cold, but from the sliver of heat that had cut through her when his fingers had brushed her nape. “Thank you, Major.”
“Maybe now you will accept that I am not intending to harm you.”
Faith flinched at his insight. This major was no witless despot like that barbaric captain, even though he demanded respect from his men. “If I gave you that impression, Major Kendrick, I must apologize.”
“It is clear that your experiences have led you to believe that you have reason to distrust the intentions of my fellow soldiers.” He glanced again at his men. “Words and actions are two different things.”
“Are they?”
His dark eyes focused directly on her. “You have confused me again, Mistress Faith.”
“If you had been in Pennsylvania for the past three or four years, you would know that words can create situations as dangerous as any weapons. All of this talk of independence was once just talk.” She looked toward the south. “Now it is so much more. Maybe if King George’s ministers had taken heed of the words, this war might never have begun.”
He stepped closer. “The words spoken and written here were discussed endlessly in London. There are many on both sides of the Atlantic who believe that this war is wrong.”
“There are those who support the rebels in England?”
He smiled as he brushed a strand of her hair back over her shoulder. “I suppose there must
be, but I was speaking of those like you, who wish there could have been a peaceful end to the debate.”
“That will never be possible if the French become involved.”
“You have listened well to the tidings from Philadelphia and beyond.”
She could not miss the way his eyes narrowed as he spoke the last two words. “Is this yet another test of my loyalty, Major Kendrick? If I said yes to your comment, you could label me a traitor for having information that does not come from the British army in Philadelphia.”
“You mistake my words.”
“I don’t think so.”
Lifting another tress from the ones that the breeze had flung around her face, he stroked it gently. “Ah, honesty at long last.”
“I have not lied to you.”
“Much.”
“Much,” she agreed with a taut smile. “If you will excuse me, Major, I must—”
He tightened his hold on her hair. “You have not shown me any other landmarks.” He closed the distance between them until he stood as near as he had in the barn, when only the low wall had been between them. “If you do not show me the way, I will have to explore by myself.”
“Do you think I fear what you will find?”
“No.” His voice took on a raspy edge that sent unfamiliar sensations whirling through her. “I think you would fancy the exploration as much as I would. Just think of the unexpected treasures we might find on such an intimate journey.”
Her hair tickled her cheek, but she barely noticed as his fingers, still holding it, caressed the curve of her jaw. His gaze held hers, and she suspected he was trying to tell her something, but she could not discern what the strong emotions were that filled his eyes. Slowly his thumb rose over her chin to graze her bottom lip. The taste of his rough skin was delicious and dangerous. Was this the flavor of treachery, or of temptation?
A throat was cleared behind her. When Faith looked over her shoulder to see Lieutenant Osborne’s face, heat seared her cheeks as scarlet as his.
“Pardon me, Major Kendrick,” he said, gulping over every word. “I would like to speak with you, if I may.”
“Of course. If you will excuse us, Mistress Faith.”
She was not certain whether she was more irritated that Major Kendrick had lured her into this embarrassing situation or that—if his voice was a gauge of his emotions—he was utterly unmoved by the way his words had tempted her to forget herself in his arms. “I would gladly excuse both of you,” she retorted coldly, “if you will relinquish your hold on my hair.”
“I will.” His voice dropped to a near whisper as he tucked her hair back beneath her hood while he drew it up over her head. “Reluctantly.”
Again that enticing commotion rumbled through her. Spinning on her heel, she went back toward the house. She did not run, although she wanted to. She would not give Major Kendrick the satisfaction of seeing her flee like a naughty child.
Satisfaction … Her fingers trembled as they settled on the latch. She looked back. His gaze captured hers once again, as if they stood face-to-face. Only when Lieutenant Osborne leaned toward him, speaking rapidly, did he look away. She threw the door open and went into the kitchen.
“Where did you run from?” asked Mother as she drew a pot out of the hearth.
“Run?”
“You are panting as if you have run all the way from the crossroads.” She smiled and shook her head. “Sometimes, I despair at the idea that you will ever set aside your hoyden ways. You are a woman grown now, not a lass.”
Faith bit back her laugh because it was tainted with hysteria. Mother must have no idea why she was so breathless. Busy at the hearth, she would not have noticed what was happening by the kitchen garden.
When her mother added that Molly and Nancy were waiting for their embroidery lesson, Faith nodded and hurried out of the kitchen. Most days, she sought any excuse not to give her two rambunctious sisters their lesson. Today, staying inside and focusing on tiny stitches seemed the perfect escape from Major Kendrick. It would only be temporary, but she hoped it would be enough.
“Bunny tried to hop right away,” one twin said.
The other refused to be left out of the conversation. “But we caught him.”
“We put him back in his cage,” added the first.
The other followed quickly with, “But we were careful. We must be careful with little animals. Right, Molly?”
Sebastian smiled as he noted again that Molly was wearing the apron with the pink flowers embroidered on it. Nancy’s apron was decorated with blue ones. As they chattered about the rabbit they had found and nursed back to health, he asked questions each time one of them faltered. That kept them talking and gave him the excuse to remain here by the hearth, where Faith was knitting. The twins were kneeling beside her, except when they jumped to their feet with excitement. Then their mother would hush them and continue to read aloud to her husband and sons from a thick book.
He had to admit he had not heard a single word Mistress Cromwell had read, although the way she continuously changed her voice for each character caught his ear. Cromwell seemed enrapt, and his sons were sitting on stools beside him, heeding each phrase closely. Faith appeared to be listening, too, but he suspected she was not.
Wanting to chuckle, he did not. He also bit back his accusation that he was only copying her behavior at the table, when she had tried to keep him from speaking to her by using the twins’ enthusiasm. His goal was different, however. He wanted to speak with her, but not on the topics of rabbits or war or the weather.
“Time for bed, girls,” Mistress Cromwell said, closing her book and setting it on the table beside her chair. She came to her feet. “I shall tuck you in myself, for I fear you were too slow to bed last night. Emery and Ezekial, you should come along soon, as well. If you want to wash before bed, the water is still warm.”
Sebastian smiled when the boys exchanged a glance that suggested that cleaning up before going to bed was not important to them. As the little girls scampered out of the room, he watched Faith’s fingers manipulate the knitting needles. The fanciful pattern of the nearly finished glove emerging from them included stripes of red among the unbleached yarn.
“You make quick work of that,” he said.
“I have had much practice.”
He looked around the room. “With the many feet in this family alone, you would be kept busy even if you did not knit for others. I suspect your younger brothers and sisters outgrow their socks with amazing speed.”
“Especially Ezekial. He has passed down two pair of boots this year alone to Emery.
“But Emery is the older, right?”
“Yes.”
“Are you always going to be so taciturn when I try to initiate a conversation with you?”
“You should not confuse being taciturn with having nothing to say.” Faith knew she would have been wise to leave the room with Mother and the twins instead of remaining here to finish a stripe.
Standing, Major Kendrick leaned forward and rested his arm on the high back of the settle. As his shadow came between her and the light from the fire as if he were once again wearing his black cloak, it cut her off from the rest of the room. Abruptly, it was as if they were alone—far from anyone else.
She raised her gaze to his. Knowing she should look away, she could not. She was snared in a trap, drawn ever more deeply into his eyes.
“I suspect,” he said in a near whisper, “that you have much to say, but you do not trust yourself to say it.”
“You speak with great authority about me when you have known me barely a day.”
“There are many ways of getting to know someone. You may not say much about yourself, but others do.” His fingers edged over the back of the settle to toy with the wisps of her hair that refused to stay in her bun. “Molly—or was it Nancy?—told me that you are very fond of hot biscuits out of the oven. Emery mentioned that you have ignored your father’s request more than once and jumped your
mount over fences. Even your other brother, who seems as close-mouthed as you, said something about how you love to dance.”
“If you collect as much information about the rebels as quickly, Major Kendrick, I suspect your job will be completed soon.”
“It might help if you called me Sebastian instead of Major Kendrick.”
“Rather than my lord?”
He grinned. “That is for those fancy drawing rooms in England. Here, Sebastian will do just fine.” He leaned closer. “Unless, of course, you have a reason why you should continue to address me otherwise.”
“Sebastian will do.” She bent over her knitting. Every word he spoke suggested it was a threat. He might suspect that she was smuggling supplies to the rebels. She guessed he had his doubts about everyone here—even Father, who was the most vocal loyalist in Goshen.
“It will do very nicely.” He sat next to her on the settle.
“Please move.”
“Am I disturbing your work by sitting here?”
She wanted to shout yes, but said only, “You are sitting on my yarn. I cannot continue my work if I cannot pull more yarn from the ball.”
Bending, he picked up the ball. He shifted and drew the yarn from beneath him. Setting it on his lap, he smiled at her. Was that a dare she saw in his smile? If he thought she was going to snatch it and run away, she must show him that she had no reason to be fearful of him. Betraying herself would be ridiculous.
He ran his finger along the strand of wool, tracing where it twisted through her fingers. He did not touch her, but the heat of his skin threatened to sear her.
“This wool is quite rough,” he said.
“I am accustomed to it.”
Taking the unfinished glove that was dangling from her knitting needles, he lifted first one finger, then the next. Again he drew the yarn through his fingers—to where it wrapped around hers. “This is a garish red, Faith.”
“I told you before that I like bright colors.”
“It is nearly as red as your face was today when Osborne came to alert me to the message your father received.”
Faithfully Yours Page 4
