Even if this one truth were founded, his mind argued, there was much he still did not know of her. And the years of experience, still fresh in the cracks of his heart, admonished him to be vigilant. She too could be a villain—’twas too early to tell. Opening his soul, giving himself fully to her could be his utter ruin. It could mean his death.
“William…are you well?” Anna’s sweet sound roused him back to the present. “Do you despise me after all?”
Blinking, he forced a smile on his lips. He moved away, his chest aching as he pulled back, unable to leave the sanctity of their embrace without leaving a kiss upon her head. He cleared his throat. “I…there is something I must attend to.”
Her expression paled and he looked away, pained that his sudden change caused her such hurt. For he knew it did—because he hurt just the same. But he couldn’t halt his soul from shredding at the memories. He couldn’t bring himself to hand his heart to one he knew had the potential to destroy the fragile pieces that remained.
He rolled from the bed, dressed, and left, pulling the door shut behind him. On the other side of the wood he shook his hands at his sides, helpless to forget the feel of her smooth skin and hair, or the way she’d whispered, “I love you.” The sun shined in from the window, kneading the knots in his shoulders. There is too much to lose. You do not know her. This chance at a new life was too precious to risk exposing himself. He could not let his guard down and confide in her simply for the sake of love.
Love.
He stopped cold and stared at the wall, allowing the word to drift in and out of his vision. Was such a word not equally dangerous, nay more so, than his work with the patriots? As if smuggling goods sixty miles to Boston was not foolhardy enough…
His jaw threatened to crack from clenching. He would remain kind to her, as was his nature. Make her laugh, make her smile, meet her needs—above all, keep her safe. But to fall in love? Nay. That could not be done.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A flash of approaching red amongst the colored autumn foliage slowed Paul’s step. He dashed behind a tree and watched from the safety of the wood. He’d overheard during last night’s meal at the patriot’s tavern the rumors of smuggling in the wood beside the creek. But as he had not seen Donaldson nor heard tell of anyone that might possibly be him, Providence would be the next place for his search. He had to be close. Paul’s limbs buzzed. The proximity of the troops was doubtless a sign. For where there were redcoats, there would surely be patriots. And where there were patriots, there Donaldson might be found.
“We’ve been searching for half an hour already. He’s gone, Pryer.”
Pryer? Paul squinted to see past the canopy of colorful branches that blocked his view. That shock of bright yellow hair confirmed what he thought. Mark Pryer. He knew him well.
“He was here, I swear it.” Pryer looked behind. “Give me another moment, then I shall return to camp.”
“Fine then. But don’t be long.” The other soldier withdrew, leaving Pryer alone.
When the lone redcoat passed only five feet from his hiding place, Paul stepped from behind the tree. “Lieutenant Pryer?”
The soldier halted and reached for his pistol, face rigid then instantly calm with recognition. “Captain Stockton.” He stood straight and replaced the gun at his side. “Forgive me, sir, I did not see you.” Questions gave rise to lines around his eyes as he studied Paul’s state of dress. “Why are you here sir, and without uniform?”
“I am on assignment.” The answer seemed to satisfy his old companion-in-arms.
Pryer relaxed his posture. “Fortunate you are. We’re to pick fleas from a dog’s back.” He laughed. “Patriots are a destructive and elusive nuisance.”
“How many have you found?”
“Smuggling? None.” He pointed from where he came. “Just nearly apprehended one, but ’twas left empty handed.” He sneered. “Did find a lovely pair of lips I would have liked to sample though.”
Paul shook his head. Pryer’s need for women made him both weak and a second-class soldier. “What do you mean you nearly apprehended one?”
“Been trailing a boy for some time, convinced he was preparing to exchange goods.” Pryer gripped both hands on the muzzle of his gun and leaned against it. “But I lost him and found only a farmer and his wife.”
“You lost him?” Predictable. Paul resisted the urge to growl. And his father found reason to scold him when scores of soldiers were disgustingly inept. “Did you not think to follow them?”
Mouth pinched and quirked at one end, Pryer lifted one shoulder. “A fool’s errand. Those ignoramuses can waste their efforts all they like, as far as I’m concerned. Our energies are better spent blasting away at those rebels on the hill then stopping something that won’t make a hint of difference even if they can get goods into the city.”
Paul rubbed his jaw and breathed hard through his nose. A false sentiment shared by many. Every effort must and should be made to end any act of rebellion before too many soldiers were forced to risk their lives in a civil war.
“On your way back then?” Paul turned to look toward Sandwich. “Any soldiers stationed in town?”
“A few I suspect, but I’ve just come from Providence, so I don’t know the particulars here.” He straightened and his expression folded with disgust. “I do know ’tis a hotbed of patriotic sentiment, but they’re as trivial as all the rest.”
“Did you—” A streak of color and a rustle of leaves made Paul jerk. He looked to Pryer, whose eyes were trained on a swaying branch. “Your lost boy perhaps?”
Pryer’s eyes narrowed and he lifted his musket. He motioned forward with a quick lift of the chin, but Paul pressed his hand against Pryer’s chest. He shook his head and pointed to a strip of white beside a bush of dried leaves not a stone’s throw to the right.
He mouthed, “Shoot.”
Raising the weapon, Pryer yelled. “Show yourself!”
Nothing. Not even the slightest movement.
Pryer tried again, louder. “Show yourself, patriot.”
Paul’s patience snapped. “Just shoot him.”
“I will not shoot if I don’t know who it is.”
“What kind of soldier are you?” Paul ripped a pistol from his side and aimed at the motionless spot of fabric. “Come forward, or I will shoot.”
No response.
After another beat of silence, Pryer gave Paul a sideways glance, motioning to the taunting piece of white. “Let him be, Paul.” His gravelly whisper carried a spark of rage. “Killing him will change nothing.”
The racing thump of Paul’s pulse thundered in his ears. Was every soldier turning soft like his father? Donaldson could go free after all he’d done, and now this traitor would be permitted to continue his treasonous actions without consequence?
Passion pushed reason to the side. He gripped the weapon harder and pulled the trigger. An ear-splitting crack slashed through the silent forest. Paul raced toward the victim, Pryer close behind.
He slowed as he neared the target and lowered to his haunches, unschooled violence poisoning his blood. A stream of profanities clouded the wood as he tore the piece of white cloth from its perch on a naked branch. A decoy.
He peered up from his crouched position by Pryer, whose raised brows and round eyes made Paul’s fists itch to punch the look from his face. “Impressed are you?”
“He fooled us both.”
Another slight rustle not ten feet away stole Paul’s attention and aimed it with deadly accuracy. Speaking to the concealed offender, Paul kept his voice to a whispering roar. “Show yourself.”
No movement.
Paul stood, fury flooding his muscles with every second the patriot refused his commands. “Get up now!”
Still nothing.
He lunged and the figure whirled but ran only a few steps before Paul yanked at his collar and spun him around.
Stunned, Paul spoke to Pryer, keeping his eyes on the freckled face, twisted in
fear. “Is this the boy?”
Pryer hurried beside him and answered. “Aye, I believe so.”
“You believe so?”
“I cannot be completely sure.”
Paul rolled his eyes in place of smacking the sorry excuse of a man. “I’ll help you tie him so you can bring him back to camp.”
“Nay.” Pryer’s face went slack as he stared at the boy then turned to Paul with narrowed eyes. “Let him go, can you not see he’s petrified?” He reached for Paul’s iron grip, but Paul jerked away, gripping tighter.
“Have you gone mad?” Paul jammed a rigid finger at Pryer’s chest. “This boy is a traitor—a lover of self more than a lover of country—just like the rest of them! If we do not make every turncoat pay we will all suffer.” Keeping the boy at arms length he pointed at Pryer’s ready musket. “Finish him.”
Pryer grimaced. “He’s only a boy!”
The lad gasped and gripped Paul’s wrist with his thin, cold fingers. “Sir, I beg you! Let me go!”
Paul stared into the youth’s round, pleading eyes, his own as unmoved as an island in a storm. Allowing the soft, inner core of his heart to sway in the boy’s favor would lead to greater, more grievous betrayals of conscience.
He turned back to his companion and yanked the musket from his grip. “Do it.”
“You are mad.” Pryer scoffed and retreated a step. “I followed him, aye. But I never witnessed an exchange and my orders were to bring in a man, if I found him. But this is no man and you are not my superior.” He paused, his lips tightening. “Let him go, Paul.”
The bubbling rage in Paul’s gut surged like a boiling spring, flooding his limbs with steaming blood. His father’s words rang in his ears. Let the man go, son. We have more important things to occupy our time.
Paul hardened his grip, hot air seething as he breathed through clenched teeth. Nay! He would not let him go. He would not let anyone go. Not Donaldson, and certainly not a boy who would grow to betray the crown. If he had to find every miscreant and bring every deserter to justice, so be it.
He released his grip on the boy and shoved him to the ground. The lad’s mouth gaped open as he gasped for air, tears welling in his eyes.
Paul stepped back and strangled the boy with his gaze. “Get out.”
Shock seemed to smack the boy into action and he was on his feet, scrambling for the freedom of the wood.
Pryer’s shoulders dropped and he released a worried laugh. “You had me scared, Stockton.”
Paul looked sideways. “Did I frighten you?” His muscles formed granite under his sleeves. “How foolish of me. I am loathe to think you might believe I had forgotten that every person, young or old, who chooses to fight against the crown is a traitor and deserves a traitor’s just reward.” He shook his head in disgust and raised the weapon at the boy’s receding figure. “I would never...”
With a roar Pryer lunged for the gun. Paul struggled to keep the pistol pointed at the figure as it faded farther from view.
“You…shall not…” Pryer grunted as he strained to pry the weapon from Paul’s fingers.
A sudden flash and crack was followed by silence.
Pryer dropped his hands and looked from Paul to where the bullet had flown aimlessly into the wood.
Paul crushed a curse between his teeth. He’d missed.
He pointed the smoking musket at Pryer, growling his words. “You’re no better than they.”
“Perhaps.” Pryer stepped away. “But at least I won’t have to answer to God over an innocent life taken.”
Paul leaned in. “God and King George are one in the same, and until you come to realize that, Pryer, your life is worthless.”
Pryer pulled back with a grimace and strode away, speechless, leaving Paul alone in the curls of gun smoke. Paul turned to stare where the boy had fled. He might have escaped capture. So be it. But Donaldson would never be free. I will find you. Do not worry. I will find you.
~~~
William knocked at the back door of Nathaniel’s home, his stomach at his feet. He released a long breath, wishing the autumn breeze would brush away the lingering pains in his chest. Instead, they only played with his queue, tickling the hairs along his heated neck.
He tapped his fingers against his leg and prepared to knock again but it opened and Kitty stood in the doorway, her smile wide.
“Henry, what a pleasure to see you.”
He scowled.
She cleared her throat. “Forgive me, William.”
Cheeks a sudden red, she craned her neck and peered side to side out the door. Once she seemed certain her blunder hadn’t been witnessed she relaxed and motioned for him to come in. “What brings you here this fine evening? Where is your wife?”
“She’s uh…she’s preparing the nettles she picked.” William entered, closing the door. “She is most grateful to you, for helping her learn some…for sharing some recipes.”
“I adore her more than I can say.” Kitty made her way to the kitchen and flung a quick smile over her shoulder. “Nettles are the most pleasant in spring, but with good seasoning they should be quite delicious.”
She found her place beside the kitchen fire and stooped to place some additional ashes atop a cast iron lid. “Nathaniel isn’t here. I assume you’ve come to speak with him.”
“I have.” William leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. The storm still bellowed within and he pressed out another breath as he picked at the fraying edge of his cocked hat. He must speak with Nathaniel as soon as possible. If he didn’t return within a few minutes, William determined to find Thomas.
“What troubles you?”
William looked up. “Hmm?”
Kitty wiped her hands against her apron, her smile at a tilt. “Did you forget how much time we spent together in Boston those months before I returned?” She stopped several feet in front of him and crossed her arms, her head slightly bowed. “I know something troubles you, William. And I would venture to suppose it isn’t the farm or the smuggling.” She whispered the last word.
Rubbing his jaw, William released a weak chuckle. So, the strain of his home life he suppressed beneath the matters of war was evident. He stared at the floor. The urge to speak the burden and ease a portion of his pain—perhaps gain some wisdom in the ways of women—became so tantalizing his jaw ached from keeping back the words.
He shrugged one shoulder.
Her hands went to her hips. “So, you will not speak of it? Do you not trust me?” The accusation was said with a raise of her brow and quirk of her mouth, nearly bringing another laugh from his throat.
“It seems I am as easy to read as you are.”
“Is Anna…is she all right?” Kitty’s eyes went soft. “Are you?”
There in the warm, homey kitchen, William’s muscles began to soften. Kitty had always reminded him of his sisters, and being near her made him feel as though he did still have family, that he wasn’t entirely alone. Though he was, and the emptiness never left him.
You have Anna.
He brushed the thought away, though it lingered when the aroma of lavender brought back the scent of Anna’s hair, the feel of her skin. And the need to feel it again.
William shifted his feet and looked down again at his hat. “We are learning how to manage this new life. ’Tis difficult for both of us, but…we’ll fit into ourselves in time.”
Silence welled between them. Kitty dropped her hands to her sides and her voice went quiet. “You have feelings for her.”
He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. So many things he wished to say, but how to say it? I do, but my past imprisons me.
She must have seen a semblance of answer in his eyes. Reaching out, she touched his arm. “What happened to you, William? There is much I know you do not speak of. I would hear it. And nothing you say will leave this room, I give you my word.”
“I believe that, Kitty.” He straightened and put his hat on his head. “Perhaps someday I will speak of it, but for now
I should—”
“Speak of what?”
William spun to see Nathaniel enter through the back and plunk his medical bag on the large table beside the door. His grin consumed his face. “Just the man I wanted to see,” he said.
“Is that so?” William tucked his hat under his arm once more.
“Aye.” Nathaniel removed his coat then looked to his wife, who dashed from behind William to swing her arms around her husband.
She planted a quick kiss on his cheek then spun back to the kitchen. “I shall leave you gentlemen to your conversation. Supper requires my attention.”
Nathaniel’s gaze followed her away, his expression dreamlike. “I will never deserve her, William. No matter how I try, I shall never deserve her.”
“I must say I’m surprised she forgave you so quickly.” William moved to the parlor and took the largest chair.
“Well, I’m easy to forgive.” Nathaniel chuckled, then grew serious. “But you didn’t come to discuss my marriage.”
William pulled his lip between his teeth. “The boy I met today, the one for the exchange—”
“Boy?” Every hint of a smile vanished from Nathaniel’s face. “You should have met a man. Are you sure you were not duped?”
“’Twas our smuggler, no doubt.” William explained the boy’s struggle and Nathaniel stared, mouth tight as William finished. “That is not the worst of it. He was followed.”
Nathaniel’s face went slack. “To you.”
“Aye, to the very edge of my property.” His stomach churned. “If Anna had not come, I fear what might have happened.” He let out a dark breath. “Though her presence there nearly ripped me in half. He was far too close.”
Cheek between his teeth, Nathaniel answered low. “What was Anna doing in the wood?”
So Rare a Gift (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 3) Page 23
