"You don't have to stay," he whispered.
She looked up at him. "He was my friend, too. It's just fittin' that I be here for the end."
Grayson nodded. He understood all too well.
Zeke and Pete half carried Carter out into the yard. They tied his hands behind his back and lifted him onto John's horse. Zeke led the horse to the tree where Les was fixing a hanging knot.
"Make it tight," John ordered Les. "We don't want him suffering."
Carter shook with fear. "I can't believe you're gonna let 'em do this, Papa," he begged Harry. "I can't believe you'll let them hang me. I've been falsely accused! I didn't do it, Papa! Please don't let them hang me!"
"Let them!" Harry murmured. "Hell, I'm gonna do it myself."
John looked to Harry. "That's not necessary."
"Sure it is," Harry said with tears in his eyes. "I brought this traitor into the world, caught him with my own hands." He held out his palms, staring at them as if in disbelief. "It's only right I take him out."
Maggie watched as Harry hobbled toward Carter who sat perfectly still on John's horse. Les lowered the noose over his head and tightened the knot.
"You got anything else to say?" John asked.
Carter squeezed his eyes shut. "No," he squeaked. "Nothin' except I'm sorry . . . so sorry."
Harry patted his son's thigh in one last compassionate gesture and then, drawing back his hand, he hit John's horse hard on the rump. The horse bolted and Maggie dropped her head onto Grayson's shoulder so that she wouldn't have to see Carter die.
Grayson led Maggie up the grand staircase of John's home and down the hall to the room Elizabeth had directed him to. Maggie walked like a sleepwalker, dazed by all that had happened in the last hours.
"Come on, sweet," he urged, his breath warm in her ear. "A little sleep and we'll both feel better." He pushed open the bedchamber door.
Maggie caught his hand. "You'll stay with me, won't you? You won't go yet?" She'd been strong when she had to be, but suddenly there seemed to be no fight left in her. Maggie was sick to death of the war and its destruction. All she wanted to do was be with Grayson, to be held by him.
He smiled down at her and leaned to kiss her quivering lower lip. "I'm as tired as you. I thought if you didn't mind, I'd slide right into bed beside you and take a little nap."
She nodded. "I just don't want you to go. I know you have to join the others on the battlefield, but not yet."
"I think the war can do without me for a few hours," he teased as he draped his arm over her shoulder and ushered her into the bedchamber.
The drapes had been pulled against the morning sunlight and a small fire burned in the fireplace hearth. The room was dark and cozy.
Leading Maggie to the bed, he began to undress her. Her limbs felt as limp as a rag doll's. She just couldn't believe Carter had betrayed them. She couldn't believe he was dead.
Grayson pulled Maggie's shift over her head leaving her to stand naked and shivering as he tugged back the heavy quilt on the freshly made bed. "Climb in, love."
Maggie did as he told her, allowing him to pull the coverlet up to her chin. She reached out to him. "You're not leaving, are you?"
"No, no," he soothed, coming around the other side of the bed. "I'm just going to undress and then I'll snuggle in beside you."
Maggie watched as Grayson set his loaded pistol on the cherry candlestand and then stood on one foot, and then the other to tug off his boots. She watched him through the fringe of her lashes as he peeled off his tight white breeches and pulled his shirt over his head.
She sighed at the sight of his magnificent form as she lifted the edge of the quilt so that he might slide in beside her.
"Ah, Maggie mine," he murmured in her ear, drawing her into his arms.
The warmth of his body blotted out all thoughts of Carter Perkins and the hanging. "Grayson," she whispered. "We came so close to losing each other last night."
"It's frightening, I know, but we're all right," he soothed, brushing his fingertips down her spine. "You were very brave tonight and I'm proud of you." He kissed her bare shoulder. "But you've been too brave too long. You've taken care of yourself too long. Why don't we start taking care of each other?"
She ran her fingers through his unbound hair, and guided his head until it rested on her breasts. "I'm not so certain we're going to make it, Grayson."
He lifted his head and stared into her dark Indian eyes. "We're both going to make it. I'm going to live to make you my wife," he slid his hand over her slightly rounded belly, "and give our son or daughter a name."
Maggie blinked. "Our . . . our . . ." She swallowed. She was too surprised to even try to deny her pregnancy. "H-how did you know?"
He rubbed his palm across her middle in a gentle circular motion. "How dumb do you think I am? I sleep with you most nights. You think I haven't noticed the changes in your body?"
She laid back on the goose-down pillow, not knowing what to say.
He stretched out beside her and stroked her head. "I was waiting for you to tell me, Maggie. When were you going to do it? When I could hear my child cry with my own ears?" He shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"
She looked up into his clear blue eyes. "Because it was my trouble, not yours."
"Trouble? We're talking about my flesh and blood, Maggie!"
She looked away. "I wanted you to love me for me, to want to marry me for me, not for a babe who needed a name. I didn't want you to think I was trying to trap you into marrying me."
"Trap me?" He laughed. "I was trapped the first moment I stepped into Commegys' Ordinary and saw you standing there among all of those men. I was trapped by my love for you—never the other way around." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I can see you as plain as day with your skirts hitched up, tossing the dice across the table. I can hear your laughter." He opened his eyes. "I can still taste our first kiss."
Tears clouded Maggie's eyes. "It's not that I don't want to marry you. It's just that I've been married before. Noah—"
"Damn it, Maggie, I don't want to hear about Noah, I want to hear about me. I know why you didn't want to be married to Noah. Tell me why you don't want to be married to me!" He cupped her chin, forcing her to look him straight in the eye. "Talk to me! Tell me what you're so afraid of."
"I'm not afraid!"
"You are. You're afraid I might really love you as much as I say I do."
She shook her head. "That's not it. You and I, we're so different. Your family and mine—"
"It doesn't matter. We're past this social-class claptrap. We've been through too much for you to use that as an excuse any longer."
She stared up at the white ceiling. "Your drinking. I don't like it. Noah—"
"So why didn't you tell me? Every man drinks, especially a man under the kind of pressure I've been under. But that doesn't make me a drunkard, Maggie. Noah was a drunkard. He couldn't stop himself. I could lay down a bottle and never pick it up again."
"You could? For me?"
He took her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers one by one. "Yes. I drank out of loneliness. I drank because I didn't have anyone to confide in. I'm not lonely anymore. I have you . . ."
A lump rose in Maggie's throat. "Oh, Grayson," she whispered as she threw her arms around him and hugged him. "I've been so afraid I couldn't hold on to you that I wasn't willing to try. I was so afraid it would hurt more to have you and lose you then to never really have you at all."
"You're not going to lose me. I'll follow you to the ends of the earth, if that's what it takes. I'm here," he assured her. "I'll always be here for you."
His mouth met hers and Maggie welcomed his kiss. Their tongues touched, retreated, then touched again. Her thoughts were in a jumble. Nothing made sense. Had she just agreed to marry him? She wasn't certain. But what she was certain of was the rising desire inside her for him. She lifted her hips instinctively, wanting to feel his hard, sleek body against her own soft curves.
Grayson's lips touched hers again and again until she was breathless. He kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, and then he lowered his head. He took her nipple between his lips and tugged gently.
Maggie moaned.
He stroked her silky thighs, his fingers glancing over her tight web of curls. She shuddered as his fingers stroked and probed, spreading a flaming heat that left her breathless, but still wanting more.
"Grayson," she murmured as she ran her hands over his muscular back, reveling in the feel of him over her.
"Ah, Maggie mine, I love you as the moon loves the stars, I love you as the dew loves the grass . . ."
She shared her husky laughter with no one but him. "A poet," she whispered.
"Marry me and I'll come to your window each night and sing of my love to you. Be my wife and I'll woo you until I'm too old to walk, too feeble to lift my voice."
She wound her fingers through his hair and parted her thighs. She could feel his hard shaft against her leg as she rose and fell beneath him. "It's tempting," she whispered. "I think I like this wooing."
He kissed the lobe of her ear, his hot breath sending shivers of delight through her already quivering limbs. "I'll love you day and night, Maggie mine. I'll love you until death do us part and then on into eternity."
"Hush this foolish talk," she murmured. "Never trust a man with honeyed words, my mam always said. Deeds you can trust. No more words. I'm tired of words. Show me love."
Brushing her hair off her perspiration-dotted forehead, he lifted his hips and, guided by her hand, he slipped into her.
Maggie rose up with a gasp of relief . . .
With agonizing slowness, Grayson teased her with one thrust after another, letting the swollen tip of his engorged manhood caress her willing flesh until she thought she would scream for want of him.
A pounding, incandescent heat rose in Maggie's loins as she lifted again and again to meet Grayson halfway. She caressed his hard, sinewy buttocks with her hands, guiding him, pulling him deeper and deeper into her until together as one, they reached ultimate fulfilment.
Waves of spent passion washed over Maggie as she rested in the safety of Grayson's arms. He pulled her to him so that her cheek rested at the hollow of his shoulder and then he brought the quilt over them both, protecting them in a cocoon of warmth.
"Marry me, Maggie mine," Grayson urged in a half-whisper. "Say yes."
"Yes," she answered, still breathless from their lovemaking.
"When?"
"I don't know. Ask me tomorrow," she murmured drowsily as she rolled over onto her side and curled up into a ball, drifting off to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-six
"When, Maggie?" Grayson called to her as he watched her ladle out a serving of beans to a soldier who held out his wooden trencher.
"Soon," she answered as she moved on to the next hungry man.
She and Grayson had had a terrible fight when she had told him she was going to stick with him to the end of the battle. He insisted she go to Williamsburg, where she and his baby would be safe. She refused, telling him that if he wanted her for his wife, he had to take her as she was. It was important that she be at his side, doing what she could for him and the other men. He could accept it or not accept it, but she wasn't budging.
So Maggie moved through the earthen trenches the American army and their French allies had dug with a flintlock on her back doing whatever she could for the men. She cleansed wounds, fetched water, fed them what food could be scraped up, and patched leaky boots. She agreed to stay off the front lines, but that was her only concession. They were well into October now, and so far she'd still been able to remain at Grayson's side.
"How soon? How soon will you marry me, Maggie Mae?" Grayson smiled as he leaned his back against the earthen wall of the redoubt the British had abandoned in retreat. Ironically it was one of the redoubts Grayson had been forced to direct in its construction.
"Very soon!" she flipped curtly as she turned to Zeke and kicked him with the toe of her boot. "You know I always hated it when you called me that! Why did you have to tell him my middle name was Mae?"
"Ouch!" Zeke massaged his injured calf. "I wish you'd just marry him and get it over with." He held out his dinner plate and watched as she spooned out his ration of the hot beans. "We're sick to death of having to listen to the man's pitiful whining."
Maggie smiled at Zeke as she rubbed her wrist absentmindedly. Once he and Grayson had come to the conclusion that they need not volley for her attention, the two had gotten on well. The camaraderie was good for Zeke. The last two weeks had been hard on him, with Carter's betrayal and death and then his mother's death the very same night. To make matters worse, he hadn't been able to get away to see Lyla since his mother's funeral. He seemed to miss her tremendously.
Maggie reached Grayson, who held out his pewter plate as well. She passed by him and moved on to the next man.
"Hey!" he called after her. "What about me?"
She only laughed and moved on.
Grayson got up and came to her and she scooped out the last of the beans in the pot and placed them on the wooden trencher of a soldier who had one eye patched. He nodded his thanks.
Grayson laid his hand on Maggie's shoulder and looked into the pot. "You didn't save me a bite?" he asked, trying not to sound disappointed.
She grinned mischievously and hooked her finger, signaling him to follow her. Walking past Zeke, Maggie set the pot at his feet and followed the bend in the trench. Dim lanternlight guided her way. Hiking up her blue tick skirts, she climbed a dirt ladder.
"Hey! Where are you going? You can't go out there!" Grayson grabbed for her foot, but she slipped away with a giggle. He had no choice but to follow her.
"It's safe enough," Maggie whispered, taking his warm hand in hers. "It's dark out. Time for the Brits to have their palm toddies," she teased. "Besides, I need some fresh air or I'm going to fall over."
A shell exploded well in the distance, lighting up the sky.
Grayson squeezed her hand, but neither of them flinched. In last days both had gotten used to the nearly constant barrage of cannon and gunfire. "You look tired," he said. "I could get an escort for you to get you back to John's."
"Not on your life, my love." She spotted a sentry smoking a corncob pipe. "Even' to you, Lance," she greeted.
The bearded man gave a nod and went on puffing his pipe. It was his duty and that of many others to guard the men who were building and fortifying earthworks.
The night air was filled with the sound of men digging as their shovels scraped the soft earth. Another trench was being dug to link redoubts, drawing the American army even closer to the enemy lines.
Maggie walked a good twenty yards from the safety of the fortified redoubt before she came to a black cedar tree and slid to the cool grassy ground. Grayson sat beside her, laying his loaded rifle across his lap.
"I'm sorry I didn't save you any beans," she apologized. "Were you terribly hungry?"
He looked up into the dark-clouded sky. A British shell lit up the redoubt as it hit the grassy field, falling short of its mark. "Not so hungry."
She gave a sigh. "Well, that's too bad," she said, opening a canvas sack she carried on her shoulder, "because I've got all this bread and cheese and apples and no one to eat it!"
"Bread! Cheese! Where did you get it?"
She laughed. "Just eat and don't ask," she said, pushing the small feast into his hands.
"Ah, Maggie, what would I do without you?" He took a bite of the bread and then of the cheese, suddenly realizing how ravenous he was.
She bit into an apple. "You'd be better off than you are now, I'll warrant you."
"Don't say that. Don't ever say that." He kissed her lips, tasting apple on them.
Maggie looked out at the grassy battlefield stretching before them. In the distance she could see the light of the British campfires glowing in their redoubts. Bristling rows of sharpened logs jutted out
of the earth protecting the British soldiers from easy attack.
If she squinted, she could even see the light from fires across the river at the British camp on Gloucester Point where she knew there was a log palisade and lines of white tents. To the right, the cloak of darkness obscured her view of the place where the river widened into the Chesapeake Bay where she knew French fleets kept the Brits bottled up.
"So why are we waiting?" she asked. "Why don't we take the full offensive and run them right off the end of the peninsula and into the water?"
He laughed. "You think yourself a general, do you?"
She grinned. "Maybe."
He laid back against the tree trunk so that he could see her face in the moonlight. "Would you tell your men to leap out of the safety of their trenches and fight hand to hand, bayonet to bayonet?"
"I don't think so. I think if I was in charge tonight, I'd be digging fast and hard straight for the enemy lines."
"Why, Madame General?"
She cut her eyes toward him. "Because they think they're going to be able to retreat tonight. Colonel Hastings himself said activity had been spotted down by the river at dusk. We've been waiting for them to attempt their retreat, and I'd bet you tonight is the night they think they're going to make it." She tucked her feet up beneath her dusty petticoats. "Only they're not."
"Why aren't they, Maggie?"
She rubbed her wrist. "There's a storm coming in."
He looked into the sky then back at Maggie, doubtful but not totally disbelieving. He remembered the time at Thayer's Folly when she'd predicted a storm and one had blown in within hours. "A storm?"
She took another bite of her apple, a smile turning up her lips. "I'd say with a little help from nature, and some strong arms to dig trenches tonight right to their back door, we'd have a surrender in our hands."
Grayson took her hand in his and rubbed her wrist thoughtfully. "A storm, you say?"
She nodded with a sigh and went back to her apple. "A pity I'm not commanding the Army, hmm?"
Grayson suddenly stood up, pulling her up with him.
"Where are you taking me?" she protested, dragging her feet. "I haven't finished with my supper!"
The Bootmaker's Daughter: Revolution (Destiny's Daughters Book 2) Page 32
