Moonlight Rebel

by Ferrarella, Marie

  He cleared his throat. "Well, yes." He couldn't get his fill of the change. "You never looked like this. I don't know what to say."

  "Say you like it," Lucinda suggested.

  He spread out her hands and drank in the picture of femininity before him. "I certainly do. You don't look like my mother anymore." They were both surprised at his words.

  "What?" she cried.

  "My mother," he repeated. "The way you dressed always reminded me of my mother. I hadn't thought about it until just now, but she always wore dull colors, too. And she was always so subservient to my father—more than a good wife should be," he clarified. "She had no will of her own, no spirit." He looked out the window for a moment, as if talking to himself. "My father says I'm just like her."

  "Oh no," Lucinda cried. She took his hand in hers, and they gave each other strength. It was the most personal conversation they had had in more years than she could remember. "That's not true. You have spirit. You have wonderful spirit," she said loyally.

  Aaron laughed. "You don't know what you're talking about." He stopped, amazed at the affection he felt for Lucinda. He was responding to her the way he once had to his mistress.

  He had always viewed his wife in the same light in which he had viewed his mother. She was someone to help carry on the family name. That was the way his father had thought of his mother. There had been no affection, no intimacy, between his parents.

  Can clothes make that much of a difference, he wondered, or was her sweetness always there? Have I been so blind?

  He had to know. "What made you do all this?"

  "I did it to please you. Krystyna suggested it."

  "Ah, yes, Krystyna." He might have guessed. "She's certainly brought about changes since she's come here." He looked at Lucinda for a long moment. "I'm very glad she did. I never realized how lovely you really are."

  Lucinda blushed and looked at the floor. "If I'm lovely," she murmured, "it's because of my love for you."

  "Love?" Aaron repeated, almost dumbly. "You still love me after all these years of ... of philandering?"

  She smiled at the bewildered look on his face. "I would love you no matter what you had done or how you treated me. I loved you the moment I saw you." She wondered where she found the courage to be so bold. "I couldn't believe my good fortune when you asked my parents for my hand."

  Aaron shook his head. It was he who was lucky. And he had only now found out. "You know, until just this moment, I hadn't realized how fortunate my greed made me."

  Aaron took Lucinda into his arms and, for the first time, kissed his wife without thinking of anything or anyone but her.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  The war effort proceeded slowly, with more and more people recognizing that there was something other than just a verbal rift between America and her mother country. Hardships encroached on trade as embargoes and blockades were put into effect. Americans who had tried to ignore what was happening now found they had to look at their consciences and take a stand. The rebel army was gaining in power and size, its new members convinced either directly or indirectly by the actions of British soldiers that there would be no peace, no rest, and no freedom until independence was won.

  Jason listened to the arguments. Events were quickly falling into place, and his conscience was calling for him to make a decision. With the war edging closer and many of the leaders coming from his own county, it was no longer a situation which didn't directly involve him. He began to see that there was no choice for him. His lot was with the Rebels.

  The deciding factor came with the arrival of the commander-in-chiefs mother, Mary Washington, at Smoke Tree. She had stopped at the plantation for a short visit with Morgan on her way to Philadelphia to see the second Continental Congress.

  She sat, a small, stout, matronly woman in black, bitterness outlining her mouth as she sipped the last of their precious tea and scowled over her cup at the McKinley family. They'd welcomed her into their home out of respect for her position in Virginia society and, more importantly, out of respect for her son.

  The purpose of her visit to the Congress astounded them. The men gathered in Philadelphia were wrestling with the profound question of whether to break with Britain or to merely ask the mother country to approve a new set of rules with which to govern the Colonies. Mrs. Washington's petition, Jason thought as he watched her, seemed incredibly petty and mean spirited.

  His father was obviously fighting to remain patient with this small woman. "Do you think that's wise, at this time?" Morgan's eyes narrowed, betraying his thoughts as he looked at Mrs. Washington.

  Jason had always thought Mrs. Washington a remarkably selfish woman who never showed the slightest affection for any of her children. But even he hadn't thought her capable of this. She sat ramrod straight in her chair and looked at Morgan indignantly. "Of course it is wise."

  "Pardon, madam, but it'll be a great source of embarrassment to your son," Jason interjected.

  Mrs. Washington refused to even look in Jason's direction. "And well he should be embarrassed," she snapped. "Leaving me to go gallivanting off to this ridiculous war, thinking nothing of how I am to live from day to day." She leaned forward to look at Morgan. "Sir, my very existence is from hand to mouth. I need that sum I am asking for in order to survive, and if he won't care for me, someone should bring him to task for it. Who better than these popinjays who put themselves in charge of us?" She drew herself up. "I fully intend to ask them for an allowance to help me with my expenses."

  Jason noted her expanded waistline. Mrs. Washington certainly didn't look as if she wanted for sustenance. And he knew, just as they all did, that Washington had bought Mount Vernon from her at a great cost and was still paying her for the care of his lands and horses while he was away. Humiliating him was her revenge for his ignoring her wishes.

  "He's known to be the richest man in Virginia, if not the entire Colonies, and he's left his mother penniless —to starve," she lamented. "Besides, he's enticing innocent young men into his service, men who should be about their appointed work, just as he should. Pah, such foolishness. He sent a messenger for his horses the other day, claiming the soldiers needed them. I wouldn't give them any," she told them proudly. "Not a crust of my meager bread, nor any of my horses."

  Morgan felt like throttling her, but to his surprise, it was Jason who answered her ridiculous statement. "But they're his horses, madam, to requisition."

  Mrs. Washington cast a disapproving eye on Jason and said coldly, "Not until he gives me my money. You, young sir, sound like the ilk that George is seducing into his ranks." She sniffed. "Like your young cousin, who, being so highly educated, should know better."

  She had his interest. "My cousin, madam?"

  "Yes that Northern boy. Nathan, I think his name is," she said vaguely.

  Jason and Krystyna exchanged looks, the first that had passed between them since their words in the hall almost a month ago. Nathan? Sweet-tempered Nathan? "Nathan's in the army?" Jason echoed in disbelief.

  "He most certainly is, following George around like some fool puppy, I hear. It's sinful. I tell you, this war is an evil thing!"

  Krystyna saw the strange look that entered Jason's eyes. What was he thinking? Glancing at Morgan, she knew there was no question as to what was on the older man's mind.

  Morgan slapped his knee and chuckled. "Damn, didn't think the boy had it in him. Some of the old McKinley blood got through after all." His eyes shifted to his sons. "Pity it stopped there."

  Jason was no longer listening. His cousin in the army. If Nathan felt so strongly about the matter as to forsake his pacifist feelings, then it was time for him to act as well. He glanced at Mrs. Washington. He owed the soured old woman a debt.

  Aaron shifted uncomfortably at his father's words. "Father, hotheads who run off without thinking—"

  "Are worth more than you," Morgan lashed out in disappointment at his seed.

  Lucinda slipped Aaron's hand into her own
and squeezed it. Her eyes told him that what the old man said didn't matter.

  Enough of this endless prattle, Savannah thought. "What Aaron is trying to say, Father, is what we've been trying to tell you all along. If we're to keep our land, we must go with those who would protect the well-to-do. Only rabble are fighting to gain what they weren't born to and would never attain by legal means."

  "What good is keeping our land if we're kept in bondage," Morgan shot back, rising. "I'll not be bending a knee to a king who hasn't been granted any divine rights by me!" He thumped his barrel chest.

  "Sir, you are not God!" Mrs. Washington cried, shocked by his words.

  "And neither is King George. He won't rule over me from across the ocean, not knowing my needs, not understanding my situation." He turned toward Savannah and Aaron. "As to keeping our lands, are you so blind that you can't see that what is given with one hand can be taken away with the other?" Now it was Jason he turned to in an unspoken plea for support. "This is not the king's land to protect, it's mine, and I shall keep it and defend it from him and from anyone else who would take it. Heaven preserve me from all this government intruding into my life." He sat down again, the brocade chair groaning beneath his weight. "At least, in a sovereign country I have a chance to mold the laws. As it is now, we are servants to the man's every whim. That's not life, that's only a semblance of life, and I for one cannot abide by it."

  "You're right, Father," Jason said quietly.

  Morgan stopped, his mouth open in surprise. Then the corners turned up in a huge, satisfied grin. "Finally!"

  "Jason!" Savannah cried. "Have you lost your mind, too?"

  But he paid no attention to his sister and blocked out the look of pride that came to Krystyna's eyes. There were still thoughts to wrestle with, matters to be settled within him; and not all concerned the war. He excused himself politely to their guest's surprise and left the room.

  "Well, I never!" Mrs. Washington looked at Aaron. "At least you have one sensible son, Mr. McKinley."

  "Yes." Morgan looked toward the doorway as Jason disappeared. "One."

  Krystyna slipped out of the room, her departure unnoticed by Mrs. Washington and the others.

  She reached the hall as the front door closed. Hurrying after Jason, she saw that he was going to the stables. Quickening her pace, she followed him inside. In the last month, since Sin-Jin's discovery and flight, they had avoided each other, both too hurt and too angry to make the first move. The ache Krystyna felt at his indifferent behavior grew as time passed instead of abating. She couldn't live with it any longer, despite her pride.

  She had seen the surprise and then the turmoil that had come into his eyes over the information Mrs. Washington had blurted out. Hurt feelings aside, she wanted, more than anything, to soothe him. To take his obvious anguish from him.

  "Would you like company?"

  They were alone. He had sent away the groom, intent on saddling his own horse. Wanting to keep his hands busy as his mind raced to untangle his thoughts.

  Her presence took him by surprise. "No soldiers about for you to care for?"

  Her expression changed. He isn't going to push me away this time, she thought. I can bear this. "None."

  "Then I get you by default?"

  She was wrong. She couldn't put up with this. Fury came into her eyes as her lips tightened. "You barbarian!" she shouted. "You think that because you won me so easily I would bed any other man who asked me?"

  "Did he?" Jason had to know.

  She shouted an oath at him in Polish, damning his soul to hell, but his question ripped through her heart and she hated him for it. "And do you think I would have if he had?" Frustrated, she slapped him. Now anger came into his eyes, but he didn't make a move toward her. "Do you think so little of me? Well then, I am done with you! I will not be held suspect by your petty mind, and I am sorry I cared enough about you to ... to ... Ah!" Another stream of words he couldn't begin to grasp flew at him, and then she turned and rushed away.

  God's blood, but he wanted her, wanted her so that every inch of his being was in hell, just where she had probably wished him to be. The anguish he had glimpsed as she'd shouted at him for his lack of faith convinced him that he had been wrong. Stupid. She was his and would always be. His sin was wanting to hear her say it.

  Krystyna was halfway to the house when he grabbed her arm and spun her around. The shriek of protest on her tongue never materialized, for his mouth covered hers in a hot, hungry kiss. She struggled, trying to pull away. But there was no escape, not from him, not from herself. His lips took her very life away. The recriminations that had separated them ceased to matter. She clung to him, feeling tears, feeling joy.

  She was shaking when he drew his mouth away from hers. He had touched off her need for him, and it overwhelmed her, body and soul.

  Jason's arms tightened around her as he held her close. The quickened beat of her heart was all the assurance he needed that he was wrong. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "Your life is your own, and I was cruel."

  "Yes." She turned her face up to his, her lips still warm from his kiss. "You were." But she made no move to leave the shelter of his arms.

  "Is your offer to accompany me still open?"

  A shiver grew inside Krystyna. She knew she was saying yes to more than just a ride. "Yes."

  "I'll have a horse ready for you in a moment." He took her hand, and they walked back into the stable.

  Savannah dropped the curtain, shutting away her view of the courtyard. Annoyance colored her cheeks. Would she never be rid of that hateful woman?

  Their ride took them to Jason's favorite spot in the meadow, as she had known it would. The last time they had been there had been with Nathan, and she had felt that Jason would want to recall his cousin's presence as he sorted out his priorities. Little was said between them as they rode. Krystyna felt it best to leave him to his thoughts until he was ready to speak.

  The stream was only now thawing out. Here and there, pieces of ice floated by, melting, giving way to the coming spring. Jason helped her down from her horse, slipping her down the length of his body until her feet touched the ground. Even this faintest of touches roused the hunger inside of him.

  Krystyna made no protest. There was no need to deny themselves any longer.

  "Does it bother you?" she asked, breaking the silence.

  Jason grinned as he kissed the top of her head. "Sometimes, like now."

  She laughed. It felt good to be close to him again. She had missed him so. "No, I mean that Nathan has joined the army."

  " 'Bother' is the wrong word." He took her hand and they walked along the bank. He watched the sun play on her hair, and he longed to bury his face in its softness. "It surprises me, though. Do you know that, as children, we couldn't even get Nathan to play soldier?" He smiled to himself. "He is the gentlest soul I know. I would never have thought that he would enlist."

  Jason looked at the ice and watched a chunk catch the sun, shimmering, and then sink as a bird landed on it. The bird thrashed about in surprise before it flew off. Would it be like that for the Colonies? Would they try to float on a piece of ice called independence, only to have it sink beneath them? "I thought he'd wait it out, like me."

  "He has found something to fight for."

  "Maybe," Jason agreed. "Things are a lot worse up in the North than they are down here. I hear they're forcing people to quarter British soldiers in their homes and to give supplies to the British on demand. That would certainly get one angry."

  "What would you feel if they came here?" Krystyna asked, peering at his face. "If they commandeered your property, your people, your crops, for their own use?"

  His expression hardened a little as he thought of someone desecrating Smoke Tree. "I would feel what my father is feeling. I already do, but I've been like a lot of others. I just hoped that if we shut our eyes to it, things would eventually work themselves out."

  "The war is getting closer each day,
and it does not care that you have not joined a side." Though the warmth of his hand in hers gave her comfort, the subject chilled her. "It will not stop because you want no bloodshed. The outcome

  of this war may be such as you do not choose for you and yours. You had better take a stand now and do all you can to secure your way of life."

  The softly spoken words rang loudly in his head. "What makes you such an authority on wars?" Jason asked with a smile. To his knowledge, women didn't think of war, at least, not in the terms that Krystyna did.

  She took no offense at his question. "I come from a place that has known one form of war or another for a long, long time. I do not belong to the peasant class, who know no relief no matter who wins. My fate depended upon who won, who lost, and what they were fighting for. I could not see being ignorant of what was going on, and my father, thank the sweet Lord, understood how I felt. Or perhaps he even made me feel that way." She shrugged carelessly. "I do not know what came first."

  The conversation fascinated him. "And if you were in my place, what would you do?"

  "If I were an American," she said slowly. "I would be on the side of the rebels. You have little hope on the other side. You have not lived through the revenge of a victorious ruler." Her expression grew grim as she remembered. "I have." She shook her head, recalling the curfews, the arrests in the middle of the night. The fear. "If you think you have little liberty now, wait until you have lost and must make restitution. Your King's vengeance will know no limits, and there will be nothing you can do. Except forge another rebellion with beaten leaders." She shivered as the wind grew sharper.

  "Cold?" He didn't wait for her to nod, but placed an arm around her, drawing her closer. He felt the heat of her body even through the thick coat he wore. "If Nathan can leave his post, a post he took such pride in, to dedicate himself to a cause, then that's enough for me." He reflected on his actions. "I've been a coward."

  "No, you have not."