Faithfully Yours (18 page)

“You did not want me to … I mean, you did not expect us to …?” The fury that seared her face was icy-cold. She stood and walked away from the table, too humiliated to add more.

“Sweet one,” he whispered as he put his hands on her shoulders, “you are not listening to what I am saying. I want you to want me because of the desire I see in your eyes, not because of a sense of obligation.”

He turned to face her and drew her down to sit on his lap. When her petticoats rose, caught on the chair, he slipped his fingers beneath them to caress her legs. She sighed with eager longing as he brought his lips over hers.

It did not matter who had won the game, for her heart had triumphed. It now belonged to Sebastian. Whether he wanted it or not, it was his. She was a fool to fall in love with a British soldier who had been sent to prey on her neighbors, but she could not think about the war as she savored his lips.

“Do you understand now, sweet one?” he asked as he held her gaze. His fingers stroked her cheek.

She nodded slowly as she leaned forward to find his lips. “Yes, I understand.”

With a leisurely caress that threatened to undo her completely, he explored her mouth. “I thought you might.” He chuckled.

The rest of his words faded into a heartfelt sigh that she heard in the second before his mouth touched hers. Her arm rose along his to encircle his shoulders. His long hair drooped over the skin above her gown, tickling her, enticing her to move nearer.

She closed her eyes as a strong sensation that was more than pleasure surged over her again when his finger teased the crescent of her ear. Although he touched her nowhere else, warmth surged through her body. It shimmered along her, drowning her in its soft waves.

He murmured her name before he claimed her lips again. His fingers caressed her bare back, then slipped around her to the front of her gown. One hook popped free, and he raised his mouth from hers.

She stared up at his face. He was giving her the chance to protest, to tell him that she did not want him to touch all of her, to remind him that a guest should not seduce his host's daughter. Her fingers sifted through his hair and then brought his mouth back to hers. His lips tilted in a smile before his tongue delved into her mouth as he loosened another hook with slow appreciation.

Leaning her back on the settee, he scorched her neck with kisses. His hand swept along her breast to draw her chemise away from her loosened bodice. She moaned with wordless wonder when his tongue laved the shadows between her breasts, creating sensations that resonated deep within her where his hips pressed her to the cushions.

“Major Kendrick!” someone shouted from the foyer.

Faith jumped to her feet just as the door came open. Her full skirt struck the table, sending the chess pieces flying against the other settee. As she knelt to retrieve the ones that had scattered to the floor, she hastily rehooked her gown. She set them on the table and looked over its top to see Sebastian talking with one of his men.

“I shall be right there,” Sebastian replied.

“But, Major, he said—”

“I said, I shall be right there.”

“Yes, Major.” The man glanced at Faith and hurried out of the room.

Was her face as red as the heat surging up her cheeks warned it must be? She took the hand Sebastian held out to her and let him bring her to her feet.

“I must go,” he said, his hand cupping her cheek. “There has been an attempt to help Rooke escape.”

“Did he get away?”

“No, but his rescuers did. I should have known better than to leave Osborne in charge of the men guarding him.” He kissed her with the urgency of the need that had been honed on the settee. “I shall be back as soon as I can.”

“Sebastian, don't let this get out of control! Innocent people could be hurt.”

“That is why I must go. Osborne will be panicking, and I need to put a stop to it. I shall be back as soon as I can.”

She nodded as he rushed out the door. Following more slowly, she put her hand on the door as she watched the men streaming out of the house. A hand touched her shoulder, and she looked back to see her mother's strained face. Faith wanted her mother to assure her it would be all right, but no one could make that promise now.

Twelve

Something was wrong.

Faith knew that even before the wagon cleared the trees. A heavy odor of smoke clung close to the ground, too thick for such a cloudless morning. When she heard her father curse once, then repeat the oath more viciously, she stared across the barnyard. The smaller barn and the pigsty were gone. Only piles of smoking boards remained.

Her father jumped down from the wagon as soon as it stopped in front of the house. Bellowing, he ran to the door at a speed too rapid for a man of his years.

Emery rushed out of the house, babbling answers at the same time her father asked them. Neither paused to understand the other.

Her mother called for help to alight from the wagon. As she was handed out by Ezekial, she asked, “Was anyone hurt?”

“No, Mother,” he replied.

The two little girls raced onto the porch and flung their arms around their mother. They wept, inconsolable.

Bending to hug them, Mistress Cromwell said, “Faith, check with the servants to make sure they have their wits about them.”

“Yes,” she replied, accepting Emery's hand to help her down from the wagon. She went into the house with him, to the kitchen. Opening the back door, she ignored the day's chill as she looked at the ruined barn. “What happened?”

“We heard shouts, then the barn was on fire. Whoever set it was gone before we could get outside. By the time we were able to get the fire out, the pigsty had burned, too.” He sighed. “The pigs escaped before the fire reached them, but it will take days to herd them back here, even if we have a place to put them.”

“Did anyone see anything to identify the ones who did this?”

“They left a note.”

“A note?”

“Warning Father to stop supporting the king by giving shelter to the soldiers.” A furious roar from the parlor raised Emery's eyebrows as he added, “Apparently Father has found their message.”

Faith hurried to the parlor. She paused at the door as her father cursed again.

“Please,” her mother urged. “The children should not hear such language.”

“They will hear worse when these fools are arrested and have to pay for setting fire to our property.”

“But no one was hurt.”

“Yet.”

Faith whispered, “Yet?”

Her father shoved the piece of paper toward her. “Read it. Read it aloud, so everyone will know what beasts these traitors are.”

“It says:
Be forewarned. If you continue to welcome the king's soldiers under your roof, we will make sure that you have nothing but your roof left. Get rid of them if you value the lives of your wife and children.
” She sank down to sit on a stool by the door. “Who would write such a horrible thing?”

“I can give you plenty of names,” shouted her father. Turning to his wife, he said, “You should take the children and go to Philadelphia, where you will be safe.”

“I am not leaving my home—or you.” Mistress Cromwell took the note from Faith, read it quickly, then tossed it onto the fire on the hearth.

“Are you mad?” Father tried to retrieve it, but the paper hissed and became a brown ball before he could reach it. “I wanted to show that to Kendrick, so he might capture these criminals.”

Putting her hand on his arm, his wife said, “Calm yourself. The major has other matters that are preoccupying him just now. When he returns, you can obtain his help.”

Father stormed out of the room, nearly running Faith down as she came to her feet.

As his sons and younger daughters followed him, Faith looked back at her mother. As she had at Sir Richard's house last night, Mistress Cromwell patted her arm.

“Come, Faith. We have chores to do and meals to ready.”

“Things that will keep us too busy to think?”

“Can you be so busy that you will not think about all that is happening?”

Faith sighed. “I doubt if that is possible.”

“My dear child, instead of worrying about this, you should be enjoying your flirtation with Major Kendrick.” Her mother smiled as she wagged a finger. “Do not deny it. Even if I had not seen how you brighten when he comes into a room, I could not have failed to notice how long you and he were together in that small room while the others were dancing.”

“There was a chessboard, and Sebastian challenged me to a game.”

“A sport that requires much time.”

“Yes.”

Mother started to speak, then paused as a shout came from the kitchen. “Let me calm your father before he suffers a fit. He must be clearheaded so that he does not do something to anger the rebels more.”

Faith dropped to the stool again. She doubted that Father would be calmed. He would be eager for vengeance on the men he labeled outlaws. The trouble that had begun in distant Massachusetts was now closing in on her home and family.

When she wrapped her arms around herself, she wished they were Sebastian's arms. Yet, he was the very reason that her family was in danger. Her family and her heart …

Faith was taking bread out of the oven in the side of the hearth when her mother walked into the kitchen. Setting the hot loaves on the table, Faith pushed her hair back from her sweaty forehead.

“Are they back yet?” Mother asked.

“Which they?” She did not mean the question frivolously. Her father and her brothers had ridden to visit Sir Richard to discuss how to request more soldiers to protect the loyalists in the area. Sebastian still was busy with his men, trying to uncover the culprits who had attempted to free Tom Rooke.

“Your sisters.”

“Where are they?”

Mistress Cromwell laughed. “I had thought you would have taken note that they are not underfoot.”

“My mind has been so busy with other matters that I did not notice.”

“True.” Setting two more loaves in the oven, her mother closed the cast-iron door. She wiped flour from her hands. “Nancy and Molly went to play at Mistress Mertz's house.”

“I thought Father wanted us to remain close to our house.”

“Is it more dangerous at Mistress Mertz's farm than it is here?”

Faith smiled in spite of herself. “That is a question Father would not like to hear you ask. He was muttering about our traitorous neighbors before he left.”

“I have known Mistress Mertz since we were younger than your sisters. No matter what her political opinions are, she would never allow any child to come to harm.” She peered out the window. “However, the afternoon is waning. I believe I shall go and retrieve Nancy and Molly before they decide to explore another barn.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No, I want to enjoy some fresh air.”

Unpinning the apron that covered her skirt and bodice, Mistress Cromwell hung it on the peg by the door. She pulled her cloak over her shoulders and tied it into place. Putting one of the loaves of bread into a basket, she set two jars of strawberry preserves beside it. The small basket was nearly overflowing with those few items.

“Do you want me to fetch a bigger basket?” Faith asked. “My knitting basket will provide more room.”

“You do not need crumbs in with your yarn.”

Faith silenced the words that were trying to slip past her lips. She was accustomed to cleaning crumbs and anything else out of the basket that she used to tote supplies to the byre. More than ever, it was important that she said nothing of that now.

“Mistress Mertz is fond of my preserves,” her mother continued. “They may give her some comfort when she is alone after the younger children are asleep. I hope I never have to face the tragedies she has.”

Faith said nothing. She had heard her brothers talking about how dashing the soldiers looked in their uniforms. Even if they were too young to fight, she was putting herself and her whole family in danger with the supplies she was taking to her contact in the tumbledown byre. But to stop would mean more having to suffer as Mistress Mertz did. There was no answer she could find.

The house was so empty. The sound of the servants' footfalls throughout the house were almost masked by the timbers creaking as the wind rose. Would a storm blow up? Going to the parlor, she looked out the window to see snow blowing past with the speed of a runaway horse. Father and her brothers would remain at Sir Richard's, and she hoped her mother had reached Mistress Mertz's house before the storm gained its full fury.

When the fire crackled behind her, Faith went to the settle by the hearth. She picked up her knitting. This glove was almost finished. She needed to make another dozen before her next trip to take supplies.

Or you could stop taking supplies to the rebels
.

Not rebels, but her neighbors. She had seen frostbite once, and never wanted to see anyone suffer as that old man had when his fingers and toes had blackened, useless. He had died before spring.

Faith pulled on the yarn to loosen more from the ball. When it tightened, she realized the ball must have fallen onto the floor. Had it gotten caught behind something? Holding the half-finished glove and knitting needles in one hand, she bent to tug on the yarn stretching across the floor. It refused to give. The line of yarn disappeared out through the doorway. She must have walked right past the ball of yarn when she came in here. So lost in her thoughts, she could have stepped over it and not noticed.

Rising, she went out into the foyer. She gathered up the yarn as she went. Her eyes widened when she saw the yarn was draped over the stairs. Who had done this? Molly and Nancy had put such pranks aside years ago, and her brothers had left early this morning with Father. Maybe one of the dogs had gotten into the house.

Faith rolled the yarn around her hand as she climbed the stairs. Hearing the wind rattling the windows on the upper floor, she shivered. The storm sounded as if it intended to batter the house down. Bent over, she went along the upper corridor, collecting the yarn and looking for the missing ball. The sooner she could return to the parlor and the fire there, the sooner she could shake off this chill.