So Fair a Lady (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 1)

by Amber Lynn Perry

  “I see,” George said. His squinty eyes brightened and Thomas couldn’t help but chuckle once again.

  Besides, even if Thomas were interested in someone with eyes the color of liquid chocolate, fair skin, and an unmistakable kindness, she’d never be interested in him in the least. Not after what he had to do tonight. He prayed to God she would forgive him.

  Chapter Four

  “Liza, who was that dashingly handsome man you were talking with today at the printer?” Kitty giggled and turned under the covers to face her sister. Eliza stiffened and wished she could feign sleep. That was the last question she wanted to answer.

  Kitty poked Eliza in the ribs. “You couldn’t stop staring—and don’t try to deny it, I saw the way you were looking at him.”

  Her face burned. She pulled the quilt higher around her neck and gave oceans of thanks for the darkness. Otherwise, her sister would have had added ammunition for her harassment.

  Considering her relationship with Samuel, Eliza should never have given a second thought to the breathtaking man. But Thomas Watson had consumed her mind the rest of the day.

  She stared at the shadowed fabric of the bed curtains.

  Thomas knew Father! How had they met? Did he know Father had been a spy and a member of the Sons of Liberty? What other information could he share with her?

  Find the truth.

  Her breath caught. Could Mr. Watson help her do that? Knowing Father had lied all those years ate away at her heart like a terrible, writhing worm. She had to know—to search out the truth as Father had admonished her to do.

  She told herself that the possible relationship between Father and Thomas was the only reason she had any interest in him. But more than a few times she’d pushed away the memory of his dark blue eyes, straight nose, and angled jaw. His midnight black hair and the broad set of his shoulders weakened her knees. She tried to forget how his smile and the gentle cleft in his chin gave her goose flesh all the way to her toes.

  The sound of his voice, like melted honey, swam over and over in her mind. “I knew your Father, Miss Campbell. He was a man of great honor, and I admired him very much.”

  “Liza, are you asleep?” Kitty whispered.

  “Nay,” Eliza said, waking from her daydream.

  “Well? You didn’t answer me.”

  Eliza exhaled. “I don’t know him. I’ve never seen him before today.” She paused, trying to contrive a way to become better acquainted with Thomas so he could tell her something—anything—about Father.

  “But you were talking to him? You mean you had never been introduced?”

  “His door happened to be open, and since we couldn’t find the bakery I slipped in and asked him for directions.”

  Kitty let out a small breathy laugh. “It seemed like you wanted to do more than that.”

  Eliza gasped. “Kitty!”

  Her sister wriggled up closer to her under the blanket. Eliza imagined the sprite smile on her face. “Your jaw was near to scraping the floor. I’m sure he must have noticed your gawking.”

  Merciful heavens. Had she been that obvious? Eliza hoped to deflect the accusations. “Well, I will say he was a kind, generous man, and true, he was very charming, but that’s the end of it. Now, let us get some sleep before the dawn comes.”

  “I suppose you’re right. Goodnight.”

  Eliza rolled on her back and wrapped her arms around her middle under the warmth of the blanket. Now, if only the handsome press owner’s face would disappear from her mind, she might be able to sleep.

  Thomas couldn’t keep still. He tapped his foot and drummed his fingers on the envelope in his hand like a timorous rain. Then he looked up and down the alley for the twentieth time.

  The same place, the same cold darkness, but a new feeling of unease and anxious anticipation danced around him.

  Where was that wretched Martin? He should have been here and gone by now.

  His heart dropped to his feet in the next second when two Redcoats started toward him. He could tell from their size and shape that neither of them were Martin.

  “You Watson?” A tall, dark-haired Redcoat approached, his posture rigid.

  “Who are you? Where’s Martin?”

  “I’m Lieutenant Donaldson. Martin’s busy. He sent me to get the envelope, so hand it over and we’ll be done with it.”

  Thomas stiffened. This man meant business. For the first time Thomas wished Martin were there instead of these two imbeciles. At least he knew better how to deal with him.

  This plan cannot fail, Lord. Please be with me.

  Thomas handed Donaldson the envelope, hoping he would take it and be on his way. But the soldier ripped into it immediately, huffing as he read the names.

  “Excellent. Come with us.” The lieutenant motioned for Thomas to follow them.

  Thomas froze. “What?”

  Donaldson talked to his companion as though Thomas were made of cobblestone.

  “Martin’s orders are to bring these people in immediately. We will go right now. Martin said to take not only the men, but their families as well. These patriots need to be taught what will happen to all those who oppose the Crown.”

  Thomas choked on his breath as utter shock flooded his limbs. This couldn’t be happening!

  Lord! What am I to do now?

  “As for you, Watson,” the tall one continued, “do not think Martin isn’t mindful of your involvement. He desires you to be the first to show the people of Boston what comes to anyone who opposes the king.”

  Thomas flexed his muscles and clenched his fists. Not a chance.

  The smaller soldier grabbed for Thomas’s arm, but Thomas swung with years of harbored rage, knocking him to the ground. The man hit his head on the corner of the building and slumped over, knocked-out. Donaldson lunged, but Thomas dodged left and stuck him from behind, landing the point of his elbow on the nape of the man’s neck. The soldier didn’t go down, but yelled and yanked at Thomas’s coat. Thomas slugged him in the ribs, sending him toppling toward the street, his sword clanking as it hit the ground.

  Thomas glanced toward the entrance of the alley, but there wasn’t a soul around to come to his aid. Probably better to fight this alone. He swung again, this time punching Donaldson square in the nose. The man flew backward, his head hitting the stone street with a loud crack.

  While the two soldiers lay motionless, Thomas reached over Donaldson and searched his coat for the piece of paper. He found it and stood, ready to make a quick escape.

  Without warning the soldier revived and grabbed at the paper, ripping it in two as he yelled something unintelligible. Thomas stumbled backward. Donaldson shoved the piece of paper deep into his coat and attempted to get up. He grabbed his head and continued yelling as he fumbled for his pistol.

  Every nerve in Thomas’s body screamed. He lunged at the soldier, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed his head against the cobblestone once more, rendering him unconscious.

  Voices and shouts erupted from across the street. A group of men ran toward him.

  With no time to recover the other part of the paper, Thomas fled into the blackness, away from his pursuers. Away from his past.

  A lone horse stood tethered by an abandoned building as if God had placed it there just for him. Thomas didn’t even think of the consequences of stealing a horse. Without a doubt the punishment for striking a soldier would be much worse indeed, and he needed a horse—desperately. Thomas mounted and rode for miles, out of town and over the small neck of land that connected Boston to the mainland. His lungs burned and his muscles cramped, but he couldn’t stop. Thank the Lord the tide was out or his escape would have been impossible. He glanced up at the moonlit sky, then dared a look behind him. The city of Boston receded as he neared the farms and estates on the other side of the bay.

  When he reached a safe distance with no one on his trail, he removed the ripped portion of the paper from his pocket and held it toward the moonlight, holding tight to the rein
s of his heaven-sent mount.

  He strained to read the names on the paper and his breath caught. Three names remained—only one name was missing. Robert Campbell’s.

  Eliza!

  Thomas’s blood stilled and threatening tingles stung his back. He glanced behind him again and his breathing charged. Because of him, Eliza and her sister were in grave danger. He had to save them—had to get them out before Donaldson followed through on Martin’s wicked plan. Thomas had to try and right this terrible wrong. But where did the Campbell’s live?

  Lord, what have I done?

  He jerked his head in front and behind him, straining for any sign that he’d been spotted. Only silence answered. Thomas followed his instinct to continue on this road. He kicked the horse into a faster gait when he remembered Robert’s description of his home.

  “It’s a modest estate on a good piece of land. I built it with my own two hands—chose a perfect spot next to three strong maples.”

  The words came with staggering clarity—three strong maples.

  He kept the horse moving at a steady pace, ready to rein-in at any moment should he happen upon his intended destination. Sweat dripped down his neck and his muscles continued to seize from the pressing anxiety.

  How could he convince two women who hardly knew him that they were in danger? With his urgent appeal and haggard appearance he would most likely scare them to death. Only God could make them believe him.

  Thomas glanced at the home on his right.

  Three maples.

  He yanked on the reins and swung off the horse, slapping the animal on the rump to make it race down the road and out of sight. Hopefully the horse’s escape would be enough of a decoy to take the soldiers in the wrong direction.

  Thomas raced up the steps and pounded on the door.

  Please, Lord. Help us to get out in time.

  Eliza woke from her slumber to a loud pounding. Had she been dreaming? She rubbed her eyes and lay back down.

  Bam! Bam! Bam!

  There it was again.

  Sleep vanished from her body, replaced by a powerful alertness.

  Who would be here at this hour of the night? Whatever their reason, it must be serious.

  Kitty still slumbered undisturbed, so Eliza scooted out of bed and grabbed her gray shawl, pulling it around her shoulders.

  Her hands shook as she lit a small candle. The pounding intensified. She walked down the cold stairs in her stocking feet, her heart hammering with furious percussion.

  “Who is it?” Her uneven voice betrayed her.

  “Miss Campbell, ‘tis Thomas Watson—the man from the press. This is very urgent. I must speak with you.”

  Mr. Watson? The man she’d just met earlier today? Her heart jumped to her throat. What could he want?

  Eliza hesitated only a second before opening the door. The moment she took in his appearance, a fearful shiver pierced her like a razor-sharp arrow. Sweat dotted his face and his eyebrows were pinched. His cravat lay haphazardly on his chest, untied and spattered with blood. The shoulder of his coat was ripped and several buttons were missing from his waistcoat. Mud stuck to his shoes and stockings.

  “What’s happened, Mr. Watson? Are you all right?”

  “There’s no time to explain, Miss Campbell. You and your sister are in serious danger. You must leave right now.” He rested one hand on the doorframe, panting as if he’d just run all the way from Fish Street.

  Eliza couldn’t move.

  Danger? Impossible. What kind of danger?

  She shook her head. “Mr. Watson, it’s the middle of the night, I’m sure this can wait—”

  “Please Miss Campbell, listen to me!” He took her by the arm and led her inside, glancing over his shoulder into the street. His strong fingers injected fear into her already rigid body. The urgency in his eyes froze her like an icy storm.

  “You must leave this house. Now. Wake your sister, grab your necessities, and come with me. There is not a moment to spare.”

  Eliza gripped her shawl even tighter and stared at him. Somehow, deep within, she knew he spoke the truth.

  She straightened. “I’ll just be a moment. Wait here.”

  Without another glance she left him in the entryway and dashed up the stairs.

  “Kitty! Kitty! Get up!” She shook her sister, who slept as sound as the dead. “Katherine Campbell, wake up now!”

  Kitty rubbed her eyes, looking perturbed at the interruption. “Liza? What are you—”

  “I can’t explain.” Eliza grabbed the quilt and threw it off her. “Grab your clothes and shoes. We must leave immediately. We’re in danger.” She pulled clothes out of their chest of drawers and stuffed them in a small bag.

  Kitty’s face scrunched. She jumped off the bed and began gathering her own clothes. Neither of them spoke, focused on the task. Once their necessities were gathered, they quickly slipped into their shoes before racing back down the stairs.

  Thomas stood alert in the open doorway as if waiting for someone. He turned with a jerk when Eliza and Kitty entered, before taking another quick glance outside, and shutting the door. The only light in the room came from the moon outside and the one candle that Eliza still held in her hand. The eerie glow hung around them like a haunting apparition.

  “Do you have any food?” Thomas asked. “If you can get it quickly it would be wise to bring with us.”

  Kitty voiced Eliza’s exact thoughts. “Where are we going? What’s happening?”

  No one answered her.

  “Aye, we have a few things.” Eliza moved swiftly into the kitchen and snatched some bread and four apples, placing the items in another small satchel. She bumped her elbow and dashed her foot on the leg of the table as she fumbled with the bags over her arm and candle in her hand.

  Hurry.

  She knew God’s voice when He spoke.

  Hurry!

  Eliza picked up speed and raced into the main room.

  “I hear horses!” Thomas said in a loud whisper, yanking the candle from her hand and blowing it out. “We can’t use the front door. Is there another way?”

  “The back!” Eliza’s stomach pulled in knots.

  She held tight to her sister’s cold hand as Thomas followed close behind. They moved careful and quick around furniture and through doors until they reached the back porch.

  Racing down the steps, they plunged headlong into the soggy field for only a few paces when they heard shouts coming from the front of the house.

  “Get down!” Thomas yanked on Eliza’s arm to stop them.

  They slid onto their stomachs, and lay shoulder-to-shoulder facing the house. The cold, wet earth oozed around Eliza’s body, soaking the front of her nightdress and pinching her skin with its chill.

  From their position in the tall grass they saw lanterns ablaze. Two soldiers stomped through the house, turning over tables and chairs, yelling for Robert and spouting commands to one another.

  The world around Eliza spun. She tasted blood as she bit her lip, trying not to cry out, and peered at Thomas. His eyes were pinned to the house as if his vision alone would impale the intruders. His jaw ticked, tangible rage pluming with every exhale.

  She glanced next at Kitty who stared wide-eyed at the scene before them, tears tumbling down her face. Eliza placed her arm around Kitty and pulled her tight, stroking her sister’s arm. I must keep my sister safe. No matter what happens. I will not repeat the mistakes I made with Peter.

  No one said a word until the soldiers left the house, still yelling as much as before. They were down the road and out of view before Eliza turned to Thomas once again.

  “Mr. Watson—I . . . I don’t know what to say.” She spoke low, straining to keep her emotions from spilling out of her eyes.

  Kitty cried in quiet bursts, her voice pinched. “Who were those men? Why were they looking for Father?”

  “I want to answer you and I will,” Thomas said before Eliza could speak. “Right now we must find a safer place to
hide. I have a feeling the soldiers will be back.”

  Eliza nodded. “Where are we going?”

  Kitty began again, hugging her arms. “Can’t we at least go inside and get out of these wet clothes?”

  “No.” Thomas shook his head, still whispering. “I don’t want to risk it. We cannot know when they’ll return. We will have to make our way down this field perpendicular to the road.” He pointed over their backs. “That way we may avoid any additional riders. I have a cousin that lives not two miles from here. We can take refuge there for a while before we continue our journey.”

  Continue our journey? Where in heaven’s name are we going?

  Thomas pushed up, then rested on his heels. “We won’t be able to stay long. Let’s get moving.”

  The girls looked at each other for a moment, communicating without speaking. The courage in Kitty’s eyes buoyed her own.

  Eliza turned to Thomas and rested her fingers on his arm. “Thank you, Mr. Watson. We’ll follow your lead.”

  She jerked her hand away when she realized what she’d done. She should never have touched him in such a way. What would possess her to do such a thing?

  Thomas’s eyes smiled as he got up slow, looking with obvious caution in the direction of the house. He motioned for them to rise and placed a finger over his lips.

  Eliza’s nightgown was wet, cold, and smeared with mud. It stuck to her figure to such a degree that she was nervous to get up. She struggled to get to her feet from her prone position, pulling the cloth away from her body to stay modest. Thomas reached forward and helped her to stand, then did the same for Kitty. He picked up the bags of clothes and food, and gestured for them to walk ahead of him, but somehow he fell in step next to Eliza.

  She wrenched her head back and gazed at their home. A powerful scream built within her throat, but she held it back. Every step pressed a vice ever tighter around her aching soul. Where were they going? What had happened to make them come after Father? How did Thomas know they were in danger? When would they return?