by M. S. Parker
Love And Honor
The Lightwood Affair Book III
M. S. Parker
Belmonte Publishing, LLC
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Belmonte Publishing LLC
Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC
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Book Description
When Honor Daviot ended up two hundred years in the past, she never expected to fall in love...or to become a part of history working for George Washington. Now, pregnant and helping the cause in Paris, her husband decides that it would be in everyone's best interest if she returns home to the colonies.
Honor, however, knows that America in 1776 isn't going to be safe for very long. As the Revolutionary War escalates, Honor and her husband, Gracen, find themselves facing tragedy and loss while attempting to keep the future on track.
Chapter 1
Christmas Day, 1775, was one of the best days of my life.
December twenty-sixth, however, things took a definite downturn.
Now, it was the twenty-seventh, and the shit hadn't just hit the fan, it was stuck to every damn blade.
I frowned at the phrase and pinched the bridge of my nose. My morning sickness wasn't sticking to the time of day it was supposed to, and not being able to know when I could hold down food was messing with my appetite, which was giving me a headache.
And none of this was helping me figure out what the hell I was supposed to do about my husband or our baby.
Yesterday morning, Gracen and I had been cuddling in bed, relishing the little bit of peace we'd finally been granted. We made love before falling asleep in each other's arms, and we'd woken up that way as well. I'd seen my love reflected back at me in his emerald eyes, felt it in his touch. We were happy.
And we were going to become parents. The thought scared me, of course. I'd occasionally thought of having children somewhere down the line, but there was no way I could've foreseen having a baby as the Revolutionary War was beginning.
Then again, whenever I thought of having a child before a car accident threw me more than two hundred years into the past, I'd only thought of kids with Bruce. At the time, he was the only man I'd ever been with, and since I was engaged to him, he was the only logical person for me to imagine starting a family with...and I hadn't ready to do it.
Bruce had been immature, needy. And I'd had my career to think about. So I hadn't let myself think about it too much, hadn't tried to talk myself into why it would work. And I sure as hell hadn't asked Bruce if he wanted kids.
Gracen, on the other hand, was a different story. Though the circumstances that brought us together was extraordinary, to say the least, I could imagine the two of us being parents. Could picture us working side-by-side to raise wonderful children.
When I told Gracen the news, he'd been so happy. It'd seemed like things were finally starting to fall into place, that all of the pain we'd gone through had been worth it to get to this point, to be spending Christmas thinking about being a family.
Except that little bubble had burst yesterday almost as soon as we'd woken. The memory of it twisted my stomach into knots.
“Good morning.” My brain was still foggy with sleep as I greeted my husband.
“Hello, beautiful.”
A raven-black wave fell across Gracen's forehead, and I reached out to brush it back, my fingertips tingling as they made contact with his skin.
“Let’s go get breakfast. It’ll be nice and cozy. We could have cocoa!” I eagerly thought of the warm drink and the ideal start to a day of lazily snuggling in front of the fireplace. Then I frowned. “Do you have cocoa now?”
Gracen chuckled lightly. “You are certainly full of energy this morning.”
“It's a beautiful day,” I said. Okay, so technically it was cold and wet, but I was here with the man I loved, the father of my child. That made it more than a good day in my book. “I don't want to miss a thing.”
“Or you could stay safe and warm in bed while I get us both breakfast.”
“Far be it from me to say no to being waited on hand and foot this morning.” I grinned at him. “I warn you, though, I could get used to it.”
He climbed out of bed, and I took the opportunity to ogle his muscular legs, to picture the rest of his firm body that his nightshirt tried to hide. I wondered if I could manage to convince him to sleep in the nude when it got warmer. The idea of being able to stare at that amazing body whenever I wanted was definitely incentive to keep the two of us locked in our bedroom. Stare. Touch. Lick...
I gave myself a mental shake. I'd heard that pregnancy made some women swear off sex, but made others want it even more. I had a feeling I was going to be the latter.
“I'm sure Alize and Celina will appreciate a slow morning too,” I said. “The three of us can wait a bit to start on taking down the decorations.”
He spun around, pants half on, his expression incredulous. “You will do no such thing! Alize and Celina are able to oversee the servants. You cannot overexert yourself.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You don't actually expect me to stay in bed for nine months doing nothing, right?”
“Not necessarily in bed,” he replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “But yes, I do expect you to refrain from physical activity until our child is born.”
“Physical activity?” I echoed as I climbed out of bed. This wasn't a conversation I wanted to have sitting down. “So I guess that means fucking is off the table too, right?”
A dark flush crept up his neck. “I should not...we should not have...”
I sighed. “Gracen, I won’t put everything on hold for nine months. Not walking. Not doing things around the house. And not sex, especially not this early. Later on, we might need to get creative with some positions, but unless we're doing some really kinky or rough stuff, we'll be fine.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw taking on a stubborn set. “We will talk about this later.”
And with that, the argument had ended. At least for that day. Today, however, that tentative peace had broken after lunch.
I raised my head and stared at Gracen, scarcely able to believe my ears. Anger bubbled just under the surface, and I reminded myself that this was a different time. I couldn't expect Gracen to react like a man from the twenty-first century would.
The idea of sending me away so I'd be out of the fight, however, was making it hard to think rationally. Certainly, I’d pointed out to him that it would be nearly impossible for me to masquerade as a man once my pregnancy started to show, but I hadn’t meant that I intended to discontinue my work altogether. Besides, it was quite possible with my tall, athletic build that no one would notice until I was six or seven months along.
Though it would be in a different capacity, my plan was to go on supporting the cause in any way I could. I didn’t want to return to the colonies until I could go with Gracen at my side. My husband, however, had other ideas.
“How can you even suggest sending me away?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“It’s not safe for you here, my love.” His voice was earnest, and that was all that kept me from snapping at him.
“It's safer here than back in the colonies where a war's going on! At least here there are no battles, and we're together. If you send me back, I'll be all alone.”
“You will have my family.”
“Are you kidding me?” My hands curled into fists. “Your father is the reason I haven't been safe in France, and we both know it. Now you want to send me straight into the devil’s clutches?”
His jaw tightened. “That was before you were pregnant,” Gracen said with finality, avoiding eye contact. “Before he knew. I will send a letter with you telling him that you are carrying his grandchild. Carrying on the Lightwood name means more to him than anything else. He will not harm you.”
A man who'd pay someone to kidnap, torture, possibly rape and kill his daughter-in-law wasn't exactly someone I'd consider trustworthy, but this wasn't an argument about Roston Lightwood's part in the things that happened to me here. It was about Gracen going back on his word, his promise, that we would always be together.
“I won’t go.” I hated how childish the words sounded, but it was the simplest way to say it.
“You will go if I say so,” Gracen said, his voice low. “And that is the end of it.”
His tone stunned me as much as the words. We'd been partners in this. How could he treat me like some helpless damsel who needed the big strong man to take care of her? How could he treat me like I didn't matter?
“And if I refuse?” The question came out flat, almost cold.
He gave me a hard look, his gaze devoid of its usual warmth, and I suddenly didn't want to hear his answer. I shook my head, leaving the room before one of us said something we couldn't take back. Tears burned my eyes as I made my way out of the dining room and toward the front door. I cursed the hormones that were making me weepy, but still knew that they weren't entirely responsible for the ache in my chest. No, that came from the man behind me behaving like an ass.
What the hell was he thinking? I hadn’t come this far only to be rendered useless now. I knew Gracen thought that he was right, but it felt like he wasn’t even trying to understand where I was coming from. He had to know that I wasn’t an ignorant child who couldn’t think for herself. I was a woman who understood fully what was happening. Maybe even more than he did at the time. I knew the risks involved in having a child in such a primitive setting. Knew what the next few years in America would be like. Knew how dangerous and frightening it would be. While I considered myself to be a strong, independent woman, I didn't want to face it alone.
And my husband either couldn't see it...or didn't care.
Chapter 2
It was cold, but I stayed outside for nearly an hour, wandering around the St. James garden. It probably wasn't too smart, being outside after all that'd happened over the last month and a half, but I needed the time and temperature to cool myself down. I only headed back inside when my fingers started getting numb.
I’d always been that way, turning to nature when human chaos and noise grew too loud. Even when I'd been growing up on army bases, I'd find my way to some park or a garden at the very least. When I was older, before I'd enlisted, there were times I’d stay away for hours, choosing a river view or even a wide open field as a place to clear my head after a fight with Bruce...or my parents about Bruce. Even when I was deployed, I'd occasionally gone outside base or camp when I wanted to clear my head.
It'd been a while since I had the chance to do that since arriving in Paris.
I closed the door behind me as quietly as possible, not feeling up to trying to explain to anyone why I'd been outside without a cloak. It'd be dinnertime soon, but I wasn't hungry. In fact, all I wanted to do right now was go into my room, lay down on my bed, and forget that the last two days had happened. If I tried hard enough, I could pretend that it was still Christmas Day, and everything was fine.
“Honor?”
I shut my eyes, suppressing a groan. Shit.
Alize St. James.
When I first met her, dislike hadn't been a strong enough word to describe my feelings toward the younger woman. But then I'd found out that Alize's flirting with my husband had been a defense mechanism, a way to deflect people's attention so that they wouldn't realize that she wasn't normal. As soon as I'd seen her with Celina Rosier, an indentured servant who'd been abused and violated by the same man who kidnapped me, I'd known the flirty, flighty Alize was all an act.
But as much as I'd grown to like her over the last month, I still didn't want to talk to her right now.
Knowing I couldn't pretend that I hadn't heard her, I turned around to see Alize’s face etched with genuine concern.
“Gracen is worried about you,” she said in her heavily accented English. “He has been asking everyone if they know where you went.”
“I took a walk.”
Alize studied me as she closed the gap between us. “Is something wrong?”
“Men think they can control everything.” As soon as I said it, I wanted to kick myself. This wasn't the sort of conversation that I wanted to have with a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who was more than five years younger than me and spoke English as a second language
“That they do,” Alize agreed, her smile wry.
“Idiots,” I muttered.
She laughed, a light, sweet sound. “Often.” She reached out and squeezed my hand. “I do not know what happened between you and Gracen, but I know he loves you.”
I knew that too, but it didn't make me less pissed at him.
“You love him too?”
All I could do was blink dumbly. It was a stupid question. “Of course I do.”
“Then you should speak with him. Do not allow whatever happened to come between you.” Her face grew more serious. “A few days before you were taken, Celina and I argued, and I had not spoken to her until she sent word about you. If you and Gracen had not saved her, I would have lost the love of my life, and never been able to ask her to forgive me.”
“Are you two okay now?”
She smiled again. “We are, but I have learned a valuable lesson. Do not let small things keep you from the one you love, because none of us know how long we have.”
Considering the fact that Revolutionary War was just kicking off, her statement was a lot more relevant than she knew.
“Thank you,” I said, knowing now what I needed to do.
“Before you go, there is something else I needed to say to you.” She paused, clasping her hands in front of her. “That night at the ball, when you first saw me, the way that I was acting, behaving toward your husband. I acted terribly and did not treat either of you with respect. I am sorry.”
“I understand,” I said. “I don't approve, but I understand. You needed to make sure the society you grew up in wouldn’t cast you out of it because of who you loved.”
Alize nodded, expression contrite.
“I forgive you.” It was my turn to squeeze her hand. “Don’t lose hope. Be your own person. You don’t need to be bound by the expectations of your class. And one day, things will change.”
Not within her lifetime, I knew, but there was no reason she and Celina couldn't manage a quiet life together.
I just hoped Gracen and I would have the same opportunity.
“Do you know where he is?” I asked.
“I believe he is in the library.” Alize gestured toward the far hallway. “Pacing.”
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “For everything.”
“It is the least I can do.” She smiled again. “For all you have done for me.”
Chapter 3
He turned as I closed the door behind me. “Honor.”
I could see the relief on his face, but there was also a wariness there that I didn't like. It was my own fault for putting it there though. I'd been kidnapped and then nearly killed a second time...but I'd forgotten what that had meant for Gracen. Or maybe I hadn't really thought about it at all, being so focused on my own issues. Granted, I had been the one tortured, nearly raped, almos
t killed, but Gracen loved me as much as I loved him.
And the thought of anyone doing to him what had been done to me...it made me want to throw up.
Then I imagined how it would've felt if, after going through all of that fear and uncertainty, he'd walked out and hadn't come back for a couple hours.
While pregnant.
Which was how his first wife had died.
Fuck me. I was an idiot. I hadn't even once thought about how my news would have sent him right back there, right back to where he'd lost his wife and child at the same time.
“I am so sorry.”
His brow furrowed in confusion, and I knew he hadn't expected that.
I exhaled, willing my voice to stay even. “I wanted to apologize for how I behaved. I should have stayed, calmed down, and talked things through with you.” I walked over to where he was standing. “Alize and I talked.”
His face registered mild surprise. “What did she say to you?”
“What I already should have known. That life is full of the unexpected, and what we have is too important to let anything come between us.”
“Does that mean you agree to go somewhere safer?”
Safer was a relative term, and I knew it was only because of the things that happened to me here that he believed I'd be better off in America. “I want to be a part of this fight. I need to be.”
His expression was guarded, and I knew my suspicions were correct. He might have been protective in the first place, but this heightened sense of concern came out of his past, and I needed to acknowledge that.
“But I shouldn't have let that come between us,” I said. I closed the last of the distance keeping us apart and tilted my head back to look up at him. I was tall for a woman, especially during this time, but he was taller still. “I should have realized how difficult this must be for you.”
