Thomas jerked his head back. A chuckle rumbled in his chest, but Eliza could sense his earnest. “Eliza, you know we can’t leave this house. As much as I would like to attend the rally, it’s far too dangerous.”
Eliza took a step forward and softened her tone, releasing her hands at her sides. “If we go to the rally together, in disguise of course, I’m sure we will be safe and no one will recognize us. I believe I could begin to truly understand what Father felt and why he—”
“Absolutely not.” Thomas came toward her, lowering his chin. “Neither of us will be attending that rally and that’s the end of it.”
“But—”
He interrupted her again, this time with a finger on her lips. The feeling of his warm flesh scalded her skin. “You must wipe that foolish notion from your pretty head. I won’t have you going anywhere near trouble.”
“How else am I to find out the truth? Sitting here and reading about the importance of liberty cannot be enough, surely. I must be involved if I am to understand it. I thought you wanted to help me.”
“Of course I do, Eliza, but going to the rally is not the way I’ll go about it.” He took her by the shoulders and looked down at her as a father would to a child, sending a painful sting down her spine. He continued, his voice heavy. “If you heard everything Nathaniel said, then you would have also heard his warning. Already there are more soldiers in town and we must not risk being found out.” His deep voice remained calm, but Eliza’s pulse heated at the intensity of his words.
She pinched her lips and lifted her lashes to meet his gaze. The closeness of him almost untied the laces of her willpower. His blue eyes radiated as they roamed over her face, causing her mouth to go instantly dry.
He brushed a flyaway hair from her cheek, tenderly stroking the skin of her neck with his thumb. What was he doing? The sensation of his skin touching hers sent the most pleasurable tingles chasing up her neck and down her arm. Her lungs halted and she stared into his fathomless eyes.
“We want to avoid trouble, not search it out.” The delicious timbre of his voice twined around her. “I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
His gaze traveled to her mouth and lingered there.
Eliza tried to move, but couldn’t. This could not be happening. Not again. She froze, wanting—and at the same time, not wanting—him to come closer. She cleared her throat and tried to focus on her words. “How else can I really taste what Father tasted? How better for me to learn what I need to know than to attend that rally—to be a part of it? I want to know why my father betrayed King George. And for my benefit no less!”
A charming smile lifted the corners of his mouth and he moved his lips to her ear. “I’ll tell you everything.” His low tone trickled through her and settled in her stomach, awakening thousands of butterflies.
Slowly, Thomas released his hold and moved away, then turned and placed another log onto the fire. He acted so casual Eliza almost believed she’d imagined his closeness. He must experience the same storm of longing that pelted her chest. How could he now act as if nothing had happened between them?
She turned to face the stairs, searching for the strength to make her feet move across the floor. Somehow her body was as stuck as her clogged mind. She wanted to believe he cared—that he wouldn’t want to rid himself of her when the search was over. She tried not to hope he would ask to her stay and be his ‘real’ wife, but she saw the resistance in his eyes, and all reason told her such a hope was folly. He was doing his duty—that was all. Caring for her like Father would have wanted him to. Nothing more.
Chapter Nineteen
“Clark, you fool! Because of you, now I’ve wasted even more time! I should never have listened to you.” Rubbing his forehead, Samuel handed the reins of his horse to another soldier and waved him off.
Boston’s wintry night sky shrouded the three men as Samuel clenched his fist to keep from pounding the young soldier.
Clark, his boyish face and small frame trembling, shook his head. “I truly believed it was them, Captain. Or I would never have said so.”
“Well, your pure motives make everything all right, don’t they?” Stupid boy. Nothing would bring peace to Samuel’s anguished soul. Nothing except finding Eliza. He would die without her, just as surely as she was dying without him—alone and frightened in some strange place.
Donaldson dismounted and stood behind Clark, his gloved fingers twitching. “What’s done is done, Martin. Best to let it go and get back to work.”
“Shut up, Donaldson, I’ll have none of that from you. I went to Salem on good faith, Clark,” Samuel said, jabbing his finger into the boy’s chest. “I saw no one that even remotely resembled that barbarous fugitive or my future wife!” He yelled and yanked the lapels of Clark’s red jacket, expelling all his anger through his voice and onto the soldier’s face. “Not one!”
“I’m very sorry, sir.” The miserable soldier cowered under Samuel’s powerful grip.
“Get out of my sight.” Samuel shoved him away.
“Yes, sir.” Clark bowed and shot Donaldson a pitiful glance before walking away through the darkness, straightening his jacket.
“He was just following orders.” Donaldson repositioned his cloak.
“My orders were to find them—and he did not!”
“Your anger is misplaced,” Donaldson snapped, straightening and stepping forward. “Save it for Watson.”
Samuel rolled his shoulders back. That lieutenant thought he knew everything. A vile concoction of rage against Thomas and fear for Eliza mixed in his belly. “You will do well to remember your place, Donaldson. I’ve lost precious time and I will not be sent on another false errand.”
He looked up at the icy, star-dotted sky and released a foggy breath. They’d only just minutes ago returned from his fruitless journey to Salem. If he had been less impetuous, Eliza might even now be safe and wrapped in his waiting arms. He had lost his slipping grasp on reality.
Donaldson’s strong voice cracked through the frigid air. “Sir, forgive me, but if I may be so bold. Perhaps she is dead, like the doctor in Sandwich said.”
Seething, Samuel breathed fire. “You forget your place, Lieutenant.”
The sound of horse hooves pounded the frozen ground, and Samuel jerked toward the sound. Who could be here at this time of night?
Suddenly, upon recognition, Samuel stood at attention and bowed low. “Captain Curtis, ‘tis good to see you. What brings you here at this time of evening?”
Three other soldiers accompanied Curtis, sitting erect on their heaving horses and looking ominous, but Samuel could sense the weariness that drifted from them. They must have traveled straight from Providence from the look of things.
His gut rolled. What could they want with him? Surely something to keep him from his most vital task, no doubt.
Curtis leapt off his horse and strode toward Samuel. His dark eyes were fringed with shadow, and bits of white hair frayed around his face from underneath his hat.
“Martin,” he said, nodding. “I need your help.”
Samuel stiffened and his muscles twitched. Just as he’d expected. His duties would once again call him away from Eliza.
Blast! “Yes, sir. How may I be of assistance to you?”
Curtis rubbed his hands and motioned to the small building that served as Samuel’s Boston office. “My men and I are frozen. May we join you inside? I can apprise you of the details as we warm ourselves.”
“Of course.” Samuel motioned them forward. “This way.” A bit of warmth would do him good as well. He too was bone-cold and could use a few hours in front of a warm fire, if not to thaw his muscles, at least to thaw this brain.
Once inside, the fire popped with annoying gaiety, and Curtis began to reveal his purpose.
“I’ve just had word that a large political rally is appointed to take place in Sandwich three days from today. There’s a large group expected from Providence, and other surrounding areas
as well. There are only a few soldiers in the small town and they will need our help should things get out of hand. We don’t want a repeat of 1770.”
Samuel nodded and huffed. No one wanted that.
“I need you and five other men to join me there. We have soldiers from other provinces who plan to assist us as well, so we won’t be the only military present. If you make haste you can cover the miles in about two days.”
Samuel cleared his throat and kept pacing to keep from being consumed by his frustration. He’d already been to Sandwich and back. What a waste!
Curtis continued. “The leader, a man named Nathaniel Smith, has been planning this for some time now, and we hear he is anticipating an enormous crowd.”
Samuel halted and jerked his head toward Curtis. “Do you mean Doctor Nathaniel Smith?”
“Yes, the very same. Do you know him?”
“Not really, no,” Samuel said through his teeth as the doctor’s face flashed through his mind and a gurgling hatred bubbled in his stomach.
“We’ll have to stay a few days after, just to keep an eye on things until the group disperses, but at that point you’ll be free to return here.”
Samuel held his mouth together and the muscles in his jaw twitched as he sat back down. This can’t be happening. I’ve already wasted enough time!
Curtis stood in front of the fire and reached for the warmth that radiated from the flames. “I’ve already received authorization. We leave at first light.”
Samuel gripped the arms of the chair, fighting the urge to stand and launch it into the fire.
“We’ll be ready,” he croaked.
Samuel looked up at the ceiling and groaned. He lived for the day he would hold Eliza against him and beg her forgiveness for not finding her sooner. He could only hope she would understand how hard he’d tried to save her.
Even more, he lived to move Thomas from this blessed world into the brimstone of hell where he belonged.
Thomas slammed his axe into another helpless log.
CRACK!
Chips flew and the severed pieces tumbled to the ground. He grabbed another, then another and continued releasing his pent up emotions into the innocent wood.
Since coming to Sandwich it seemed all he was good for was chopping wood and building fires. He was near to going mad—for more reasons than one. Though, when he allowed his true feelings to emerge, this place was lodging in his heart, and his memories of Boston were becoming just that—simply memories.
What could Boston or even his beloved press ever mean to him without Eliza in his life? This home and his memories with her in it were beginning to overshadow every other thought. Sharing the same dwelling with her was nothing but torture. Never had he experienced such a rush of passion. Not only did her beauty lure him in, her desire for truth and learning—those attributes, along with her humble and teachable nature acted like a Siren song to his lost and lonely spirit.
He bashed his blade into another thick stump. Inside she waited for him to begin their new nightly ritual of discussing politics and other such topics in front of the warm evening fire. They’d done so since the infamous “reading” almost two weeks before, and it was both his favorite and most loathed activity of the day.
Torture. Pure torture. Having to sit across from her, remembering the feel of her soft cheek, smelling the rose perfume lifting from her, hearing the melody of her voice and yet not being able to touch her. It was too much. He had to keep his distance or he would lose focus on what really mattered. Eliza needed him, he had to remember that, and not allow himself to get distracted. One more touch, one more kiss and his heart would be hers forever. That was something that he could never allow. Not when she was planning to return to Boston and the life she’d left there.
He smacked the last log in half with an additional rush of strength and gathered the pieces in his arms, before tromping in the house through the back door.
The conflicting thoughts and feelings that swarmed in his chest as he entered the main room moved up to fog his brain. He kept his gaze averted from the pretty woman in the upholstered chair, dropped the logs onto the floor, and took long inhales to calm his thumping heartbeat.
“Gracious, Thomas,” Eliza said, her soothing laugh only making him more unhinged. “You chopped an entire tree, did you not?”
She pushed up from her seat and knelt beside him. “Here, let me help you.”
Thomas clenched his jaw and shook his head. He turned to her, intent on telling her she needn’t help him. Mistake. Her warm eyes thawed the self-placed wall of protective ice around his heart. She was so close he could pull her to him and . . . he shook his head and turned away, saying nothing.
Silence enveloped the room, and she must have sensed his reserve because she lowered her gaze and rose to her feet.
He peered at her from the corner of his eye. A blush painted her cheeks and she swallowed as if his quiet had wounded her.
“Of course you don’t need my help. How silly of me.” She took her seat again and picked up the apron she’d been mending, working feverishly with the needle.
Once the logs were stacked in their usual manner against the wall, Thomas stood and brushed his hands across his thighs. He exhaled a hard sigh and took his seat opposite Eliza.
“Where’s Kitty this evening?” he asked, grabbing Robert’s Cicero off the table that stood dutifully between the chairs.
Eliza didn’t look at him. “She says she’s tired of listening to our political conversations. She’s taken the Shakespeare book upstairs. I imagine she’ll have more fun reading romance and tragedy than hearing us discuss our views on government.”
Thomas removed his jacket and laid it over the back of his chair before sitting. He crossed one ankle over his knee and tried his best to smooth his ruffled will. No touching, Thomas. Don’t even get close.
“Well,” he said flipping through the book in his hands. “What would you like to discuss first?”
She rested the mending on the floor beside her chair and scooted to the edge of her seat with her hands in her lap.
Thomas relished in the feel of the enormous grin that flooded his face. Her enthusiasm and excitement never ceased to amaze him.
“I’d like to talk more about the Tea Act.”
“Alright,” he said, relaxing into his chair.
She licked her lips, leaving her plump lower lip tucked between her teeth before she started again. “Tea is such a part of our daily lives, a part of our culture. Why can’t people simply pay the tax? Is it too much money, or is it more about principle than actual price?”
Thomas placed the book back on the small table and rested both feet on the floor. “I believe it’s about both,” he said. “However, your father always taught me that principle should be our guiding factor in everything. Especially in such issues as this.”
Eliza nodded, her eyes begging him to continue.
“The Tea Act, like the others pressed upon us by the king and Parliament, is another way for us to be controlled and manipulated. If we don’t stand against it, we don’t know where it will end. Robert taught me that we must pursue goodness in all its forms and be courageous enough to stand for the right no matter the cost. He said the pursuit of our righteous desires is worth every sacrifice.”
Eliza sighed and stared at the ground, lacing her fingers. Her mouth brightened in a sweet smile as if a happy memory placed it there. “Yes, I heard him say that many times.” Her eyes met his. “I saw he wrote that in your book.”
Thomas opened to the front of the book and absorbed the treasured words. “Yes, he did.”
Both of them remained quiet. Thomas’s mind consumed with the example of strength and faith that Robert had given him, and from the look on Eliza’s delicate face, her mind was also thus engaged.
His deep voice split the silence. “He was a man unlike any other, Eliza. I can only hope to someday emulate his greatness.”
She stilled and released a quiet sigh as she looke
d at her laced fingers in her lap. “You already do.” She peered at him, a half-smile on her shy face.
Thomas’s heart and stomach danced together in his middle. She could never know what those words meant to him.
His face suddenly heated and he realized his embarrassing error in opening his heart to her in such a way. Though his intentions had been pure, it no doubt made him look as though he was bating her for praise. What a fool I am.
He shifted in his chair and strained to form some kind of response. Instead of speaking, he rubbed his hands together and grabbed the book again.
“Shall we continue?” he said.
“Please.”
Lord, help me to stay focused on the task you would have me do.
All evening Eliza listened, but she didn’t hear a word Thomas said. She asked questions but only to keep him talking—to drone out the radiating pain that lingered within her.
Her damaged heart had cracked even deeper at his obvious rejection and made it impossible to concentrate.
Their evening discussions were what kept her alive through the long winter days and yet those same discussions pulled the life right out of her. His nearness and kindness was too much to bear when she knew he cared nothing for her as a woman—only as his duty, as his responsibility.
There had been a time when she’d seen the desire in his eyes, but it died long ago.
As Thomas talked, Eliza’s brain whirled. There had to be something she could do to get her mind away from the never-ending pain of longing. She nodded and listened, giving an obligatory answer here and there, while her mind circled, searching for the proper balm for her ailing heart.
Suddenly, an answer flashed across her whirring mind.
She sat straight in her chair, her eyebrows bouncing to the top of her head. I can go to the rally myself!
“Eliza?” Thomas said, pausing with a small laugh. “I have a hard time believing my quote from John Locke was that exciting, but you nearly jumped out of your chair. Did you find it that interesting?”
So Fair a Lady (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 1) Page 20
