Enemy of Mine (29 page)
More tears left her tense face. He realized she was holding her breath.
“Don’t...you,” she hiccupped her words, intense agony dripping between each one, “ever...leave...me.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry. I should have kept that to myself.”
Even more tears cascaded down her face, but her voice had calmed. “No, I wondered why you were here. Now I know.” She sniffed. “So that means you wouldn’t be heartbroken if the Americans won this war, right?”
“How on earth can they win?”
Erva chuckled. Ah, she laughed, which broke any melancholia left in his heart.
“Oh, they had help,” she said. “Lots of help. But, yeah, they win their independence. The crazy part is, that the British won the war against France and Spain.”
“France will join this war? Good Lord, I’m glad to be retiring.”
“So am I.” She smiled at him.
He needed to make sure of where her heart lay. “My darling, truly, if you left me, I’d be...okay. I don’t want you to feel responsible—”
“Are you trying to get me to leave you?”
He gripped her arms and pulled her close. “Never.”
“Then why are you—”
“Because of what I just confessed to you. I don’t want you to feel obligated to me. I want you to...want me.”
She chuckled. “God, now I know we’re meant to be together. You just recited a Cheap Trick song two hundred years before it was even sung. Then again, it is an old song. Maybe it was sung around your time.”
He nodded. “I’m not sure what any of that means, but I hope that you don’t feel obligated?”
Again, she softly laughed. “I don’t feel any sense of obligation. But,” she soothed her hands down from his shoulders to his chest and rested them there, “if you ever feel sad, sad enough where you think about...what you thought about, then tell me. We’ll work on it together.”
He lifted both her hands in his and kissed them. “I promise.”
T
hank God there weren’t any occupants in the house, Erva thought, after Will had had a quick scan of the place. Still, she wondered if many people had seen them stalk into the house and not leave it any time soon. Taking a quick breath, she nodded to Will to open the door, and they left.
He held her hand as they walked through the street, leading her along, his head held high and his stride assured. The sun was now hovering on the horizon. Will found the horse he’d been riding, and in too fast a move to protest, had her side sitting in the saddle, while he held the reins and walked on foot. Back in the house he’d shared so much with her. It still baffled her. It honored her. It scared the shit out of her.
He’d been suicidal. Maybe that was why he’d died. Maybe he’d had enough and by tomorrow had put himself in harm’s way.
But now...
He found a sergeant that Erva vaguely remembered earlier meeting and talked with him about quartering the remaining soldiers that hadn’t gotten a tent. The sergeant kept peeking up at her on the horse, but nodded and ran off when Will ordered him to. This was another side of Will she’d wanted to see from the very beginning, the leader. When he walked the horse closer to where a band of young redcoats were relaxing, they immediately stood at attention, yet greeted him with warmth. When Will grinned at them, they beamed back. It was obvious they respected him, even liked him.
He patted the backs of some of the British troops, praising them for their courage. Then surprising her, many of them wished her and Will congratulations on their coming nuptial. Seriously, Twitter had nothing on the word of mouth or the announcement or whatever it was that was alerting everyone to their wedding. One young man shyly approached and gave her a small bouquet of wild sea flowers. Hearty little white blooms that Erva adored.
A middle-aged man with thinning long, white hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck and a widening middle approached Will, clapping him on the back.
“I’ve just heard the news, good man.”
Will nodded and smiled up at her. “Erva, darling, I’d like you to meet Lord General Charles Cornwallis.”
She tried to keep her composure, but could hardly contain her excitement at meeting one of the most feared British generals of all time. Not because the man was known as a military tyrant. In fact, his troops were severely loyal to him, almost to a breaking point. No, he was feared by the Americans for his prowess and persistence.
General Cornwallis reached a hand up to her after he’d bowed his head. While extending her fingers into his palm, she said, “General, it is an honor to meet you.”
“The honor is mine,” Cornwallis said after kissing her hand and giving it back to her. “I’ve been wanting to meet you since I’ve heard the rumors that there was a musical genius that accompanied Hill. And now I meet you under such glad tidings. Congratulations, my lady, you have selected the best man I know.”
“Oh, sir, you can’t lie to my bride to-be.” Will joked.
Cornwallis shook his head. “My lady, I’ve only known your soon-to-be husband a few months, but already I am envious of his mind. He’s truly a genius of his own right as well. Why, this battle was won because of your man.” The general turned to Will. “I shouldn’t talk war with the lady, I’m sorry.”
Erva wanted to giggle or roll her eyes at the invasion of eighteenth-century manners, what with Cornwallis asking Will, not her, for forgiveness, but Will just beamed up at her.
“Cornwallis, you can talk war with my fiancé, for it was her idea to pinch the Continentals as we did this morning.”
Then Erva’s stomach rolled over one too many times. Oh God, she’d given him the idea to fight the Americans the way he had and to such a benefit for the British.
Cornwallis smiled up at Erva too. “Well, my lady. Your name is most applicable then. Minerva, goddess of war.”
“Goddess of wisdom too,” Will said, still smiling.
Erva tried to grin, but felt more than a little sick as she realized she’d given Will the idea for victory today. “Thank you,” she croaked.
Cornwallis clapped Will on the back again, then looked up at her once more. “But your soon-to-be husband is much more than a great general, my lady. He’s a wonderful man, kind and patient with his troops. Now, where can I send a wedding present?”
Will smiled widely. “We’ll let you know, my lord. We haven’t even spoken of our ceremony yet, but we need to. We haven’t decided on wedding here or back in England.”
Cornwallis shrugged. “Have two ceremonies, one here and another there. I’m heading back in a few months. I’m sure my wife will love to meet Lady Ferguson, soon to be Lady Hill.”
Erva tried again for a smile, but this time the effort was even greater. She knew Cornwallis’s future, and the next year would be considerably hard on him.
Will and Cornwallis, the two generals, said their goodbyes, each shaking the other’s hand as if they wanted to say more and smiling the way two soldiers can—knowing each other intimately, like brothers, yet perhaps because they weren’t biologically bound they never seemed sure how to convey their sense of love for each other.
Cornwallis promised to do the reports for Will, so he could take Erva back to their home. It was incredibly kind and considerate, and when Cornwallis finally left, she’d held his hand, wishing she could convey her sympathy to him early.
Will climbed on the horse and rode behind her, still hanging onto the reins. He said something about finding a boat at this time of the day, but Erva wasn’t paying much attention. Sitting the way she was, she easily swung his direction and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting him see over her shoulder where they were going.
“Are you all right, Erva?” Will held her with one arm, but stopped the horse.
“Cornwallis is a good general, isn’t he?” she whispered in his ear.
“One of the best I’ve ever known, yes.”
“He likes you.”
Will didn’t say anything.
“He likes you a lot. He looks at you like a proud father would a son.”
“You think so? You know, he and I are much alike. He’s going to retire shortly too. And for the same reasons I am. Well, not in marrying, but because he doesn’t believe in this war. He’s going back home to be with his wife.”
She blurted it out before she could take it back. “She’s going to die.”
Will leaned back and looked down at her, his dark brows furrowing.
“She’s sick and going to die when he’s home with her. His grief makes him change his mind and come back to the war, to be with his soldiers.”
Will glanced at where Cornwallis had stood. “Good Lord.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. From what I read, he loved his wife very much.”
Will gazed at her again. “I’m so sorry for the man. I can’t imagine...Mayhap we could help her, find a way for her not to die. At the least I can talk him out of coming back to America.”
Erva nodded, getting excited about the idea. But mainly she thought of Will back in England, and not dead as history had told her. “Maybe...mayhap.”
For a moment Will didn’t say anything, but finally nodded his head. “I—I know it’s silly, but I think of him like a father.”
“Why is that silly?”
“I had a father.”
“It’s perfectly normal to find surrogates, especially when our parents fail us.”
Will blinked then nodded. “I suppose so. Did you ever find one? I mean, you said your life with your mother...I, er, this is a rather serious conversation, and we’re in Manhattan—”
She smiled. “I love your consideration. But to answer your question, I suppose I keep finding women who are more like my mother than a surrogate. I am a teacher at Harvard, but I don’t technically have my PhD yet. My supervisor—who I wanted as a friend, not a surrogate mother—has been sitting on it for two years now, holding it back. She keeps telling me to research more, write more academically, write
more
, but already it’s close to two thousand pages. I know I’ve done enough. But,” she looked down, suddenly shy to admit the truth, “I—I never knew how to stand up for myself against my mother. I was always so scared she’d leave me, and I’d be an orphan. So I’d end up doing what she wanted. In a way I’m now grateful, because if it weren’t for her, I would have never learned to play the piano and sing, which, I think, got your attention.”
He hooked a finger under her chin. “You had my attention from the second I first heard you screaming through the house, little minx.” He smiled. “Oh and by the by, you’re wonderful at standing up against me. In fact, I’m fairly certain I have bruises from where you hit me earlier.”
“I’m so sorry.” She bit her bottom lip.
“Well, I think I might have to spank you a bit tonight.”
She giggled, before growing more serious. “In a way, staying here is such a relief. If I had to go back, then I’d have to stand up against my supervisor, Dr. Peabody. And I’d probably end up teaching even more classes out of it. Besides, I’m not even sure if I like teaching. I don’t know whether my students really respect me or not. There was one brat that spilled water down my front the day before I came here. I’m pretty sure he did it just to be jerk.”
Will’s face tensed. “I’m certain he did it because he was an obnoxious beast who wanted to try to see your body better. Thank God we have more than two hundred years betwixt us; otherwise, I’d have the man’s head on a platter.”
Erva couldn’t help but smile, but she tried to temper her grin with a little dose of admonishment as she shook her head.
Will leaned closer. “You don’t see it, do you? How beautiful you are?”
Erva glanced down again, not willing to answer.
“Well, even if it takes the rest of my life, I’m going to have you see how beautiful you are. But more than that I think we should find a nice surrogate for yourself. How about Lady Anne? She seems rather fun. First, though, I think you need to practice standing up for yourself with me. Now, tonight when we’re in bed, I’ll pretend to ravish you, and you must fend me off.”
Erva chuckled. “I think your mind is in the gutter, sir.”
He softly laughed as he bade the horse to walk forward again. “I think so too. Won’t you join me?”
She giggled again. She’d never laughed so much, except maybe with Ben. Then a pang shot through her body, reminding her that she would never see her best friend again. But she tried to rid herself of that thought. She’d grieve later. Besides, with Will she laughed more. She loved his sense of humor, how dry but witty it was. She loved his sense of justice for her. She loved him.
She leaned against his broad and iron-tough chest, feeling more content than she ever had before. Now, she just had to get Will to stay in bed all day tomorrow, never leave her side, so he wouldn’t die. Wiggling her bottom around a little, feeling Will’s erection against her, she thought it wouldn’t be too difficult a feat.
A
fter another bath, eating blueberries off each other’s bodies, and who knows how many more times of making love—all right, suffice it to say, Will had counted that they’d made love six more times—he and Erva had fallen asleep in a cocoon of entwined limbs and smiles.
He’d been asleep for a few hours, when the thought of how amazing his life was woke him. In the night’s romantic glow he watched Erva slumbering, the way her chest rose and fell under the velvety white cotton sheet. Her blonde hair fanned around her, and in the soft moonlight she looked more goddess than human.
He should have been exhausted, especially since he’d gotten little sleep the night before, and had fought during the day in a decisive victory, retired from the military, and, oh, God the way they’d made love for hours. Yes, he should have been fatigued, but he just stared at Erva, fascinated at his new partner in life. She had been in an army’s intelligence. (He couldn’t quite bring himself to think of it as
America’s
Army. Lord, it would take a while to get used to America being an independent nation.) She could play the pianoforte like no one else he’d ever heard, sang so beautifully it broke his heart, and was so well learned that she almost had her PhD. He thought of the vicious Dr. Peabody Erva had spoken of and was glad again for such a wide space of time betwixt himself and the people who had done her wrong. He wasn’t too sure what he would do to the woman who held Erva back, but this Dr. Peabody deserved a reprimanding letter at the least.
Here, though, he could protect her. But then again, from what Erva had done earlier when almost abducted, he knew she could protect herself. He hoped in the coming years he could help her learn to stand up for herself against women who seemed to hold a power over her. Then it struck him that she was leaving her mother behind. Erva, with her pure heart, probably still loved her mother, no matter what the woman had done.
Will glanced again at his bride to-be, wondering if there was any way to make it up to her, her sacrifice. She had said she was relieved, but she was giving up so much. Yes, he would teach her to defend herself against all attackers, even women like her mother and Dr. Peabody. That might be a good start to compensate for her staying with him.
He sighed and caressed a strand of Erva’s blonde hair from her face. She smiled in her sleep. His heart at once contracted and grew. Lord, he loved her. Briefly, he thought about waking her, nudging her closer. His body was already reacting to her nearness. But he didn’t want to be bothersome.
Carefully he extracted himself from Erva’s arms. She quietly whimpered, but slept through the interruption. Will couldn’t help himself but gaze down at the woman he would spend the rest of his life with, feeling his heart now turn golden. No matter how she arrived in his life, whether through some odd muses or whatever it was, he wondered if Julia had some kind of leverage in their meeting. It seemed that her spirit surrounded him now, blessing him and Erva. For that he gave a peaceful sigh.
Now, why couldn’t he sleep? He bent his head one direction then the other, loosening the muscles in his neck. Actually, he did feel relaxed. Well, a few hours of lovemaking could do that to a man. Glancing down at his naked body, he was surprised to see his almost constant state of semi-arousal. He was actually a bit sore, but still part of him was ready for more. Good Lord.
Erva shifted in her sleep, letting the sheet slip off one perfectly round breast. Her nipple contracted slightly, and he was about to launch himself on it, when he turned away. Would he ever stop feeling insatiable regarding her? Mayhap that was why he couldn’t sleep, this ravenous need to touch Erva. Perhaps he should...look at anything else other than her.
With his eyes almost completely shut, he covered Erva’s body again. He knew it was ridiculous to close his eyes, but he feared he would come unhinged if he saw her breast again. He strolled toward their torn apart clothes and smiled. When Erva had ripped his clothes off as soon as they’d landed in her chamber, that had been especially rewarding. All right, he shook his head, it was best to stop thinking of making love to her. Spying around the room, he looked for books, but couldn’t see any. Why they’d slept in her apartment again Will wasn’t too sure, but if they’d made love in his then at least he’d have something to read.
Wait! Erva had books in her iPhone. He hoped it wasn’t an intrusion to read one on her gadget, and glanced one more time at Erva to ascertain if it was or not. What a mistake. She was simply delicious as she slept, so he forced himself to look away and find a book in her glass device. He lit a candle that was close to the Greek-looking wooden box of her things, then opened the container. There were bottles of tinctures that declared that Erva’s skin would be left radiant and hydrated if used, and a tiny glass bottle of something that smelled exquisite and quite like Erva. However, he’d come to find that her night jasmine scent was all her own. She was earthy yet delicately floral, dark yet profound. He smiled at the thought.
Sitting on the floor with his legs crossed, he felt rather free, especially being naked. He quite liked being nude and near her, as well as flicking on her iPhone and finding the little picture with all her books. Hmm, well, it appeared she had quite a few records about the American Revolution. He realized that must be the war he was fighting against. Lord, he was on the losing side. He rather didn’t like that, even if he secretly championed the Americans. Still, his English pride pricked at the loss. Erva had said something about Howe retiring in the next year or so and wondered if his stepping down was the reason why the British lost America.
Picking one of the books that looked most promising because he saw it was about the British leaders during the war, he read through the copyright page. Lord, that was amazing. Authors in the future insisted on not plagiarizing, and he inferred, they also insisted on getting paid by their publishers. Well, things looked bright for authors then. He tried to pick his way through the beginning of the book, finding more information about King George III than he’d liked to have known. Apparently, the king went mad in 1811. Heavens. Then he read about Lord George Germain, Secretary to North America, and most especially about Lord Fredrick North, the Prime Minster. He almost felt sorry for the men, for the author spared no compliments to them. Poor North was made to look like a fool who was constantly in over his head, whining about wanting to retire, but his cousin, the king, refused.
Propping himself against a nearby couch, Will finally read to the first commander in chief of the British in North America, General Thomas Gage. But the author skimmed over much that could have been pertinent, like the fact that he was known as a good military man, but overly cautious. Finally, Will found the chapters pertaining to his commander in chief, William Howe. It was interesting to note that the author spent more time on Howe having an affair, which Will was never sure if he believed or not, than on Howe’s tactics. It was glossed over that Howe invaded New York like the power horse that he was. Soon enough, Will read of the landing of Kip’s Bay, and, yes, the tactics were credited to Howe, which Will knew would happen anyway. Ultimately, as the commander in chief, it had been Howe’s decision to approve of Will’s plan or not, so in a way it was Howe’s design, even though Will was the designer. He read on about the next day, tomorrow, and how the Americans made a stand at the Battle of Harlem Heights.
It was difficult to read the small screen and all the while his heart twisted at the odd feelings he had. Pride for the Americans for making a stand, because an arrogant general, Alexander Leslie, had ridiculed them. Yet, it still made him feel at a loss that his British boys wouldn’t outright win the battle. What a dichotomy, his sentiments! He was relieved he wouldn’t fight in the battle.
He scrolled down the tiny screen to a footnote of the Battle of Harlem Heights, surprised to see his name in the text. He stopped and read the rather long note slowly:
Although General Leslie stirred the hornets’ nest and seemed to make his troops less cautious than they should have been, it was thanks to the daring antics of Major General Earl William Hill that the British regrouped and defended themselves against the angry Continental soldiers. Hill had not only been a favorite of General Charles Cornwallis but of General William Howe’s as well, and his death during the battle made both men furious. Although the Continentals escaped through New Jersey in the following months, Howe set Cornwallis free to chase after the routing American soldiers, whittling them down to less than a couple thousand dirty, starved, and exhausted men.
Will read the footnote over and over while his stomach hollowed. Afterward, he figured out how to find the index, located his name, then found how he was mentioned as voting against the war, as Howe had, but still came to fight.
He tried to combat an overwhelming feeling that something was weighing heavily on his chest, for he knew it was his imagination, but he couldn’t help but seem to gasp for air. Well, no wonder. If he fought tomorrow, he would die.
He decided to look in Erva’s other books for information about him and...his death. Book after book credit his demise as what changed Howe and Cornwallis into cold soldiers. One book had a brief footnote about Paul, how extraordinary that a man of business inherited an earl’s estate and money, but that he put it all to good use. Keeping Misses Emma and Lydia at one of Will’s houses, Paul gave them enough money for Miss Lydia to become a famous painter and Miss Emma’s poetry to become published throughout the world. Paul himself went on to marry a poor but titled woman, finally gaining a peerage for himself where he voted, as Paul apparently would say, as Will would have, to end slavery and other oppression. Paul had made money off a coffee plantation, but when he learned of children slaves and other deplorable working conditions he tore down his factory and plant. At the end of his life, when the world rejoiced his efforts for more peace and equality, he said he owed it to Will, who the author thought was merely a womanizer and a drunk.
Will’s chest felt even tighter, but after reading about Paul, he kept swallowing, trying to rid himself of the rock in his throat. His eyes actually stung. If he weren’t careful he would cry, which would be utterly ridiculous. He wasn’t really going to die. Or was he?
No, if he stayed with Erva, in his rented house, in the bed beside her, he would remain alive. But suddenly he wondered if he hadn’t read the footnotes, would he have given enough money to Lydia and Emma for them to prosper? Was their success contingent on his death?
He tried to tell himself it couldn’t be. He would give Lydia and Emma everything. Already, he’d planned as much, because he’d put it in his will. He’d give more.
Stretching his legs out, he accidently knocked Erva’s box over. Glancing up, he noticed that she hadn’t moved. So he went about to pick up her things. A folded golden parchment he somehow hadn’t seen before drifted farther away from her concoctions. Reaching out, he fetched the paper. That was when he caught his name on it.
Without truly thinking through his actions, for he was in a panic by then, he ripped it open. From lovely and nearly perfect handwriting he read,
Dear Will,
We hope you don’t mind the informality of calling you Will, but we already feel as if we know you and like you very much. Hopefully, we won’t sound too criminal or perverse in admitting we’ve been watching you and Erva. But that’s what we were supposed to do. You see, we were the ones that sent her to you. She is such an accomplished researcher, and after this time with you, she will return to Cambridge, Massachusetts and begin writing a book about you and the American Revolution, as she, the little American, calls it, but you Brits call it the War for America’s Independence.
The book will be published as soon as she polishes it a little, for her forte is actually in her writing. She’s a grounded woman, whose easygoing prose makes people feel intrigued with whatever she writes. As we’re sure you could have guessed. She will write a well-researched historical book that many will actually love to read, as well as she’s a wee bit sympathetic to you Brits. So it becomes an International Best Seller. In other words, she will sell quite well all over the globe. She will make more money than she dreamed and decides to quit Harvard, because she never really liked teaching, but she loved researching and writing, which she continues to do until her death when she’s an old woman. Dr. Peabody will get her just dues too! She will be humiliated soon, because the academia world will soon prove that she plagiarized Erva’s work. In other words, with help Erva finally stands up for herself. She also begins to have a healthier relationship with her mother.
We hate informing you of this, but after her time with you, after you die tomorrow, she will become a better person. We’re sorry. So sorry about that.
But history has already been written. Please abide accordingly.
Sincerely,
The Muses, Clio and Erato
He glanced up at Erva again as a tear fell. God, he loved her. Loved her so much that he ached inside, his bones crushed from the thought of not holding her for decades to come. He loved her so much that he wondered if he truly deserved her.
Apparently, he didn’t.
Slowly he stood, his legs stiff from sitting so long, yet weak from...ah, hell. Shite. Everything in his body hurt. He climbed in the bed beside her and wrapped his arms tightly around her warmth. She never woke, but adjusted to holding him firmly then smiled.
