She laughed bitterly, her voice echoing in the trees above. "Save your lies, Captain, for the likes of Lyla. You've done me enough harm for one day." She took a fork off the game path that led down toward the York River.
Cut into a steep, tree-lined bank was a "fort" she, Zeke, and Carter had dug as children. It was as good a place as any to hide out for the night. Come morning she'd have a better idea as to how she was going to get out of here and what she was going to do with Grayson.
"Maggie!" he said, exasperated. "Here I am, declaring my deepest, darkest secret and you're laughing. Don't you see, I'm a spy. I've been one for years."
"I got no doubt you're a spy, but a stinking bloodyback spy."
He stroked his stubbled chin. He should have known this wasn't going to be easy. Nothing was with Maggie. "I can prove it to you."
"I'm not interested in your proof. I'm not interested in anything you got to say, Captain." She ducked as she rode under a tree branch, and the branch struck Grayson in the face. "Duck," she said, knowing her warning was too late.
Grayson cursed foully. "Maggie," he gripped her waist in building anger, "you're not being reasonable."
She reined in her gelding and slid down. "Not interested in being reasonable. Get off, and get the saddlebag." She began to remove the horse's bridle.
"What are you doing?"
"I can't hide the horse. He's gotta go. He'll go back to the house most likely. Zeke'll find him."
"I need this horse. I've got to get to Williamsburg. My contact, Billy Faulkner's been murdered. I have to get to my commanding officer."
Maggie whipped off the saddlebag, and before Grayson realized what she was doing, she whacked the horse on the rump and it bolted off.
"God's bowels, woman! Have you lost your mind?"
She thrust the saddlebag into his open arms and strutted past him. "We got to get inside. A Brit patrol passes in a few minutes. I'd imagine every redcoat and rebel in the county's gonna be lookin' for you tonight, Captain." She swung around. "And you call to anyone red or blue coat, and I'll shoot you, I swear to God on my da's grave I will!"
"Maggie! Aren't you listening to me!" He followed her down a narrow cut path in the bank. "I said I'm not a goddamned redcoat!"
She pushed back a curtain of greenbriers and morning glory vines to reveal a hole in the earthen wall of the bank. "Inside. Hurry. The patrol'll be by any minute. I sent Paul on to tell Major Lawrence what happened. Figured it was the best way."
Grayson stooped and followed Maggie through the invisible opening in the bank. "Paul?"
"Paul Michaels. You know, the private you were with."
"Paul," he murmured, remembering that that was Michaels' first name. "Is he all right?"
"Scared half out of his head, but safe enough, no thanks to you. I guess Carter really walloped him. Somehow he got away." She crawled to the rear of the dugout fort she and the others had built so many years ago. Through the ceiling motes of sunlight filtered through carefully constructed air holes covered by underbrush. Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dim light.
Grayson sat on the hard dirt floor just inside the door. "I understand. You sent him on? Start from the beginning, Maggie, and tell me what happened. I take it you weren't in on my capture."
She set aside the saddlebag and bridle and brought up her knees beneath her quilted green petticoat. "No, I wasn't in on it. I don't know if it was planned or not," she went on miserably. "Zeke said something about you being in the tavern wavin' my mask."
"Dear God, what have I done?" Grayson muttered as his brother's words came back to haunt him. Sooner or later you're going to make a mistake, Sterling had warned. Then people are going to die. You're going to die . . .
Grayson lifted his head to look at Maggie, his beautiful Maggie. "I've got no excuse, except too much drink and that's no excuse."
"Drink! Is that every man's downfall?" she asked bitterly. "My husband, Noah, was a drinker, drank himself right to death. I hate a man who drinks."
"You don't understand, Maggie. I've been under a great deal of—"
"Save your story, Captain, because I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear anything you got to say." She peered at him from beneath the brim of her three-cornered hat. "I hate you."
"Maggie!" He tried to take her hand, but she shrank back against the earthen wall. He exhaled slowly, his eyes trying to search hers through the dim light of the shelter. "Maggie, what have I done to make you say such a thing? I'm in love with you, girl."
She thrust out her lower lip, vowing to ignore his wooing words. "What do you mean, what did you do? Don't you understand? I can never go home again! I'll be a traitor in my friends' eyes the rest of my livin' days."
"Jesus Christ! What do I have to say to make you believe me? I said, I'm not a redcoat. I've never been a redcoat and I can prove it to you once we make it to Williamsburg."
"I'm not going to Williamsburg."
"Yes, you are." He crossed his arms over his chest, stretching out his long legs. "If you're going to be stubborn about this, I can be stubborn, too, Maggie Myers. You're going to go to Williamsburg, and I'm going to prove to you that I'm not the enemy. If you want to leave me then, it's your option."
"It's your option ," she mimicked, swaying her head. "You and your fancy words; you're trying to trick me."
He chuckled. "I'm not trying to trick you. I'm just trying to prove my innocence."
"You, innocent? Hah! As innocent as that whore Zeke's courtin'!"
Grayson couldn't help but smile as he stared across the little earthen fort at Maggie, who'd drawn herself up against the rear wall to get as far away from him as possible. Her pretty pouting mouth was turned down, her jaw tight with resignation. She was bound and determined not to believe him!
"All right," he said, deciding to humor her, "let's just say for a moment that I am a redcoat." He held up a finger. "Which I'm not. But if I was a redcoat," he narrowed his eyes, trying to appear sinister, "what were you, a rebel if there ever was one, going to do with me?"
He was making fun of her. She knew he was making fun of her! "I don't know," she answered, refusing to meet his gaze. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Shoot you between the eyes, mayhap."
He chuckled, his voice growing so warm that it began to penetrate the cold shell Maggie had so carefully constructed, a shell that she'd hoped would protect her from Grayson and the feelings she had for him.
"Why'd you do it, Maggie mine? Why'd you ride in and risk your own life to save me, the enemy, from hanging?"
She thought of the baby nestled in her womb and she had to control the urge to brush her fingertips over her belly. She hung her head. "Because I couldn't let them kill you," she whispered. She vowed she wouldn't tell him of his child and would hold true to her promise. "I just couldn't . . ."
"Oh, Maggie," Grayson crawled to her and took her into his arms.
She tried to pull away, to ward off his gentle touch with blows, but he trapped her hands and pressed his lips against hers. "Maggie, I'll prove it to you, I swear to God I will," he murmured against her lips. "I'm not the enemy. I'm not your enemy. I love you, Maggie mine."
His mouth pressing hers made it hard for Maggie to think. Her mind told her it was lies, all lies, Captain Thayer spoke, but her heart, her heart hoped Grayson told the truth. Her da had always said the truth was sometimes stranger than a lie.
"Ah, Grayson, I've missed you so much," she whispered, throwing caution to the wind if only for a brief time. "I wanted you so bad. I wanted to come to you. But we said—We made a deal."
He kissed the length of her slender neck, feeling her pulse quicken. "Yes, yes, I know what we said, what I said. But I was a fool to think I could stay away from you. Somehow you dug your way beneath my skin, straight to my heart, Maggie. I can't tell you how many times I dressed to come to you in the night."
She laughed, as the dirt fort and the desperation of her situation melted from her mind. All she could think of w
as Grayson and the way he made her feel. The way he touched her, the way he whispered those sweet words of love in her ear. "I waited for you," she breathed as she slipped her hand beneath his torn white shirt and stroked the corded muscles of his broad chest. "I wanted you . . ."
"Pride," he said with a laugh as he nibbled her lower lip, sending chills of excitement through her, "damned pride that kept us apart."
She nodded her head in agreement, reveling in the feel of his hand cupping her breast through the material of her bodice. "Being sensible's what kept us apart. It was the sensible thing to do."
"To hell with being sensible." Grayson tightened his arms around her, tracing her lips with the tip of his warm tongue in a slow, sensuous dance.
Maggie's tongue darted out to meet his and she melted into his arms, her breath quickening as she explored the cool cavern of his mouth.
Withdrawing from his kiss, Maggie pulled out of his arms and reached for her saddlebag. Removing a wool blanket, she spread it on the dirt floor and then opened her arms to him again. Grayson lowered her gently onto the rough blanket and pulled away the kerchief that covered the swell of her breasts. His mouth touched the soft curve of her flesh and she let out an audible sigh, feeling a heat rise within her as his gaze raked over her, devouring her. She could feel him wanting her, needing her . . .
"Grayson," she sighed, reaching behind his head to loosen the bit of ribbon that kept his hair tied back in a queue. "Grayson, I've wanted you since the moment you left my bed." His thick golden hair came loose from the queue and fell like a curtain around his face, tickling her breasts.
"I've wanted you, waited for you my whole life, Maggie," he whispered. "I was beginning to think you'd never come." He kissed his way to the nubs of her nipples as she unhooked the clasps of her bodice and pushed the material back over her shoulders. She urged him softly, her voice barely more than a sigh as he brushed his thumb in a circular motion around the pink aureola of her breast.
Maggie traced the line of his jaw and his high cheekbones and then clasped his face with both hands and guided his mouth to the peaks of her breasts. He cupped her left breast and lowered his mouth, teasing her nipple with the tip of his tongue with tantalizing slowness.
Somewhere in the distance, Maggie heard the sound of hoofbeats and the rumble of male voices as the British patrol rode by their hideaway. But knowing they were safe, deep in the mound of the riverbank, she ignored the soldiers, pushing all conscious thought from her mind. All she wanted now was to feel Grayson inside her, to hear the soft caress of his voice, to see his eyes on her as they grew dark and stormy with desire.
Moaning softly with pleasure, Maggie slipped her hand over his flat stomach and down the the waistband of his uniform breeches. Boldly she ran her fingers over the hot bulge beneath the straining cloth, the heat of her own ardor building with each stroke.
Groaning, Grayson sat up, his hair brushing the roof of the earthen fort. Keeping his eyes fixed on hers, he drank in the passion that illuminated her dark brown eyes as he stripped naked and leaned to slip off her remaining clothes.
When they were free of the confines of their clothing, he stretched out over her and they kissed again, mouth against mouth as he pressed his hard, muscular body against the soft curves of hers. "Maggie, Maggie," he whispered. "Promise you'll be mine, promise me you'll always be mine."
But she made no such promise. She only threaded her fingers through his and parted her thighs, lifting to feel his swollen manhood against her. "No talk," she whispered as the sweet aching in her loins spread like the heat of a flame. "No promises. Please."
The husky catch in her voice and the throb of insistence in his groin made Grayson push aside all thought of the future. What mattered now to Maggie was this moment. Later there would be time to talk, to reason, to make plans.
At her urging he slipped into her with one thrust and she moaned, falling back onto the dirt floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and together they moved as one, both reaching for the stars in the heavens, both needing the satisfaction of fulfillment.
And when it was over, when Maggie had touched the stars and fell back gently to earth, Grayson took her into his arms and showered her face with damp kisses. "I love you, Maggie," he whispered. "I love you and I want to make you my wife."
Maggie sighed, already drifting off to sleep in the security of his strong embrace. "Marry," she murmured, settling her cheek on his bare chest. "Damned if I'll marry a redcoat . . ."
With the first golden rays of daylight, Grayson was up and out of the safety of the fort. Barefoot, he walked down to the river and knelt to bathe his face. Throwing Maggie's flintlock rifle onto his shoulder, he stood and stretched, staring out at the sparkling blue water of the York River. He watched as a gray-and-white sea gull dove out of the sky and skimmed the surface of the water in search of food.
Grayson had to get to Williamsburg. There this true identity business could be all straightened out, at least with the Yorktown rebels. With proper documentation from his patriot commanding officer, he would be able to prove to Ezekial Barnes and his men that he was indeed on their side, thus absolving Maggie of any wrongdoing. But as for his position amidst the British, Grayson wasn't certain where he stood. How the hell was he going to get back in now?
Of course there was no question in his mind as to whether or not he was going back in, it was simply a matter of how. He'd made a mistake, a grievous error back at that tavern, but that was all the more reason why he had to get back in among the Brits. He had to prove to his commanding officer, to Sterling, to himself that he could still do his job.
But what of Maggie? She was so damned hardheaded that even after all he'd said last night, she still refused to believe he wasn't the enemy. The proof, of course, lay in Williamsburg. But she said she wasn't going to Williamsburg. She said something about going north, far from Yorktown where no one would ever find her. Of course Grayson knew he couldn't let her go. She was the best thing that ever happened to him!
Well, Maggie would just have to go to Williamsburg, wouldn't she?
"Grayson?"
He turned from the river to see Maggie standing naked in the early-morning light. She held up her skirt to cover her lithe form, but the bit of wrinkled green quilting did nothing but make her appear even more desirable.
"Grayson, what are you doing out there? This beach is patroled!"
"Just went by," he answered, pointing south.
Maggie's gaze went to her flintlock pistol tucked into the waistband of his breeches and to her rifle he carried over his shoulder, attached by a shoulder strap. "You took my weapons," she pointed out. "I want them back."
He lifted a blond eyebrow. "So you can shoot me in the back?"
"I'm not going to shoot you. At least not unless you try to do something foolish."
"Like flag down the Brit patrol?" he asked, using Captain Thayer's arrogant tone.
She crossed her bare arms over her chest, pinning the green skirting tight around her waist. "Somethin' like that."
"Maggie . . ." He looked away and then straight back at her. "What do I have to say to convince you I'm not Captain Thayer of the king's army?"
"You're not Grayson Thayer?" Her jaw tightened as the memories of last night's lovemaking slipped away. This morning the cold reality of life was slapping her in the face again.
"Yes, of course I'm Grayson Thayer, but I'm not really a captain in the Army. I mean I am, but that's not who I work for."
"I know," she nodded, the sarcasm thick in her voice. "You're a spy. You've always been a spy."
"Exactly, since before the war even."
"What kind of fool do you take me for? We didn't have spies before the war!"
"It's very complicated, Maggie, but I can explain it all if you'll just allow me."
She dropped a hand to her hip. "Tell me something. If you're one of us, how come we don't know it? John, our leader, has contacts in Williamsburg. They know what we're doing."
She nodded.
"Billy was my contact here in Yorktown."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "But he said he wasn't interested in helping us. He said he wanted no part of the war."
"He had to say that. He's been a contact for years—for other men before me. He was protecting his family."
She came further out into the sunshine and sat down, covering herself as best she could with the petticoat of her dress. "They burned him out, you know."
"Who?"
She shrugged. "We don't know. But we got word a few days ago that he was a contact. They say someone let it slip. They say they tortured and killed him, then burned the house around him and his family when he wouldn't talk."
Grayson rested his hands on his thighs and grimaced. "They were looking for me."
"Paul said Riker was accusing you of being a traitor."
He looked up. "There, you see. It all makes sense, doesn't it? I could be one of you."
"Redcoats are always accusing people of being traitors. They'd rather do that than drink ale."
"Look, Maggie, just come with me to Williamsburg and I'll prove to you who I am. You can meet my brother and see Thayer's Folly."
"I'm not going to Williamsburg. I don't want to see your fancy house and I don't want to meet your brother. I just want you to swear to me on your mortal soul that whoever you are, no harm will come to my friends."
He came toward her. "You have to come."
She leaped up. "I don't have to come. I'm goin' to New York."
He took another step toward her and she took one back. "You're going with me if I have to tie you and carry you all the way."
She let the green petticoat drop to the ground in sudden, blind fury. "You wouldn't dare."
The Bootmaker's Daughter: Revolution (Destiny's Daughters Book 2) Page 17
