Faithfully Yours (23 page)

With a welcoming smile, Reverend McEachern began the wedding ceremony. A quiver rushed along her when he spoke of how she and Sebastian were making vows that would last for the rest of their lives—a quiver of anticipation and of fear. The war could tear him away from her so quickly.

The minister's voice evaporated as a sweet warmth oozed up along her arm when Sebastian laced his fingers through hers. Sebastian tilted his head toward her and whispered, “Do you want to marry me, Faith?”

“Yes.”

“Of your own free will?”

Startled, she could not keep from glancing at where her father sat, beaming. Father was so pleased with this match. So was she, and her longing to be Sebastian's wife had nothing to do with politics or the war or grasping for power. It had everything to do with how her heart sang with joy whenever she was with him.

She brought Sebastian's hand up and leaned her cheek against it as she whispered, “Yes, of my own free will. I want to marry you to please no one but you and me.”

“Good.”

Reverend McEachern smiled more broadly as he continued to read the wedding service. He paused for a single heartbeat after asking if anyone had a reason why this marriage should not take place.

When Sebastian looked at his brother, Faith held her breath. Did Sebastian think Gaylord would speak up now? He squeezed her fingers lightly as the minister asked them to speak their vows.

Her heart soared with jubilation when she pledged to love him forever. She watched when Sebastian slipped the ring that he always wore onto her finger.

“This is only temporary, sweet one,” he said quietly as the large ring covered her knuckle. “I will replace it with one that is more fitting when I can.”

She nodded, unable to speak as his fingers curled over hers, holding them with such tenderness that she feared the tears in her eyes would overflow. She must prevent that, because she did not want anyone to mistake her joyous tears for anything else.

As the minister pronounced them husband and wife, Sebastian turned her to him and enfolded her to his chest. She raised her hands to his shoulders as she leaned into his kiss, which was over too soon.

He caressed her cheek and whispered, “I will kiss you much longer later, sweet one.”

“Much longer.” She smiled. “And not much later.”

His eyes sparkled with desire, and she wanted to forget all their guests. His smile broadened as he brought her fingers to his sleeve and turned her to accept congratulations from their guests.

As Sebastian spoke to a man she did not know, his brother said, “It would be gracious at this point to welcome you to the Kendrick family.”

“You need not be hypocritical,” Faith replied.

“I have no intention of being so.” Gaylord walked away.

Her shoulders sagged, her happiness foundering. She had known nothing about this marriage would be simple. When Sebastian's arm went around her, she met his gaze, which was filled with sympathy. She should have expected that. He was aware of everything around him.

A man who was no taller than Faith shook Sebastian's hand. His uniform was gaudy with decorations, and she doubted she had ever seen so many gold buttons on a single coat. His boots were so brightly shined they reflected nearly as much as a mirror.

Sebastian smiled. “Faith, allow me to present Colonel Hepburn. Colonel, my wife.”

“You are a lucky man, Kendrick.” The colonel took her hand and raised it to his lips with a smoothness that suggested that he had spent as much time in drawing rooms as on the battlefield. She realized how wrong that assumption was when he added, “Not only do you have a lovely bride, but I bring the orders you have been waiting to receive.”

“About our next assignment?”

“As well as the orders to hang that spy. His execution should remind any others who would follow his lead that treason is not something we can ignore.”

“Must you speak of that now?” Faith asked before she could halt herself.

“You are correct.” The colonel bowed toward her. “Forgive me for speaking of the war when we should be celebrating your marriage to Kendrick, my lady.” He chuckled. “You look amazed, my lady, by your sudden acquisition of a title.”

“Sir Richard is the only person I've ever known who has a title.”

“Sir Richard—and your husband.” The colonel handed a rolled sheaf of papers to Sebastian. “Rooke will not be sorry if you delay reading these until after you enjoy your wedding day.” He chuckled again. “And your wedding night.”

A throat being cleared on her right brought an introduction of her father to the colonel. Her father preened with candid pride as Colonel Hepburn congratulated him on the excellent marriage of his daughter.

“I am more pleased that you can guess, Colonel.” Cromwell beamed. “It will prove to those who denounce the rightful rule of these colonies that the Cromwell family is loyal to the king.”

Mistress Cromwell came to stand beside them. “That is why my husband has offered to make certain that Major Kendrick and his men have a chance to celebrate this wedding.”

“A chance?” asked the colonel.

Cromwell chuckled. “There are many of us who appreciate that a traitorous spy has been captured, and we are determined that he will receive his just punishment.”

“Please do not speak of such things at my wedding, Father,” Faith said. “I do not like to hear of a man's execution when I want to think only of the happiness here.”

“You should be glad that this threat to us will soon be gone.”

“My wife has a gentle heart.” Sebastian's hand on Faith's arm might have been meant to comfort her or to keep her from speaking her mind. As his colonel went to speak with some of the other soldiers, followed by her parents, Sebastian added, “You must guard what you say, Faith. Even my name may not be enough to protect you if it is believed you are sympathetic to Rooke's situation.”

“Is that why you asked me to be your wife? To protect me?”

He framed her face with his strong hands. “How can you ask that when I have shown you how I love you?”

“Sebastian, please be honest with me.”

“I am being as honest as I can.”

She nodded, wanting to spill the secrets that she hid in the part of her heart she could not share with him. Would he draw her closer, or push her away? As she gazed into his eyes, she dared not risk discovering the answer.

“So,” Sebastian said, “be as honest with
me
as you can. You seem distressed that Rooke is about to meet his end. You said you knew of him.”

“Why does it matter if I know him or not? I do not want to see anyone hang.”

“You Americans are very different from the British, who consider a hanging a reason to get together and enjoy a day as festive as a fair day.”

“Maybe we are not the ones who should be derided for being uncivilized.”

Whatever he might have replied went unsaid as her neighbors came forward to congratulate them. Faith set aside her disquiet and let the excitement of the wedding feast surround her. When the music began, she was glad to walk out to the center of the room with Sebastian and let the other guests line up around them. She twirled and bowed and sashayed to the steps of the country dance. As the glasses of wine and beer were emptied, no one seemed to take note of the icy snow striking the tall windows that looked out over the lawn.

Faith stood by one window and watched Sebastian dance with Molly and Nancy. The little girls were struggling to match the steps, which were more complicated than the simple reels Faith had taught them during the summer, when the war had seemed so far away.

With a sigh, she sank onto a chair and stared out at clouds that were darkening with the coming of night. She must have been as innocent then as her sisters were now, but the war had burst across the river from New Jersey to surge through their hills. Plucking at the ruffles along the front of her dress, she looked back at the dancers.

No, she would not be sad tonight. Wade Mertz would not have wanted her to be sad. He would have told her to remember him with fondness and humor while she lived her life in the happiness he wished for her.

An angry shout came from near the next window. Coming to her feet, she rushed to where Sebastian's lieutenant had his nose almost directly in Mr. Schmidt's face. The farmer was half a head shorter than Lieutenant Osborne, but his chin jutted out in fury and his fists were clenched at his sides. Reverend McEachern had his hand on Mr. Schmidt's shoulder, but Faith doubted if the minister would be able to keep the farmer from striking Osborne.

Faith flushed when she heard the curse Osborne growled. “No more of that!” she cried, grasping the lieutenant's sleeve. “These are my friends. This is my wedding day, and I shall not have you ruin it by speaking so to them.”

He shook her off and scowled. “Any man who does not acknowledge George as his rightful king is a traitor—and should be hanging from the nearest tree as a reminder to others of the cost of being a traitor.” He glared at her. “Major Kendrick was a love-blinded fool to get mixed up with you.”

“'Tis Faith,” averred Mistress Mertz stoutly, “who has been deluded by love into marrying a man who wishes to steal every bit of independence from us.”

“Mistress Mertz!” gasped Faith, not expecting such words from Wade's mother.

“Now you see the truth,” said Osborne with a sneer. “They have turned on you like the primitive beasts they are. I will not abide their seditious comments.”

Faith gave him her coolest smile. “If you cannot abide their comments, you are welcome to leave.”

“You share their sentiments!”

“My only opinion today is that I wish to enjoy the music and forget about the war.”

“Tell them that!”

“I will.”

Osborne regarded her with astonishment, then grumbled something under his breath and stamped away—not out the door, she noticed, but to where another bottle of wine was being opened.

Mistress Mertz stepped from behind Mr. Schmidt, where she had avoided Osborne's fury. She sighed. “Forgive us, Faith. We did not realize he was eavesdropping.”

“You should know better than to say such things in Sir Richard's house. You well know his opinions.”

Reverend McEachern put his hand on her shoulder. “We shall save such conversations until another day. You are right. This is a day for celebrating.” His face clouded as he looked past her. “But you must understand that many of your friends would rather have had you marry someone other than a British officer.”

Before Faith could think of something to say without insulting either Sebastian or her neighbors, her mother intruded with, “Now, Reverend, you know that one has no control over where one's heart leads. If we did, think of how many fewer mistakes we would make.” Mistress Cromwell laughed lightly. “There is no need for long faces when my pumpkin pies and blackberry pies should be here soon, directly from the ovens in Sir Richard's magnificent kitchen.”

“I am quite fond of your pies, Mistress Cromwell,” the minister said, the twinkle returning to his eyes.

“There.” Faith's mother pointed to a door. “There they come right now. Do not tarry, for I doubt if there will be enough for everyone.”

As the guests surrounded the servants bringing in the pies, Faith noticed how some of the soldiers remained where they were sitting. Their heads had dropped onto their chests, and she did not doubt that they were asleep. Fear gripped her as she recalled what the woman in the byre had asked her to do. Across the room, she could see Sebastian speaking with his colonel and his brother. Could she put the powder in his wine before the sun's light no longer sifted through the thick clouds?

“Do not look so fearful,” her mother said quietly. “You knew words would be exchanged here between those who view each other as enemies.”

“I should have, but I did not give it much thought.” She wanted to add that she was not thinking of Osborne's insults now. If she gave that powder to Sebastian, would he become ill? He might never forgive her. Why should he? She doubted if she could forgive herself for using such trickery when she had just vowed to love him with all her heart.

Her mother's smile grew gentle. “No bride should have to think of how her neighbors will perceive her husband. She should be thinking only of how he will perceive her.”

“At least, I know Father is pleased.”

“Your father and I are delighted to see you settled with a man who has touched your heart.”

It was not images of how he touched her heart that flooded Faith with heat as Sebastian walked toward them. It was the way he touched her with eager fingers and fiery lips. As if some great wind had swept them away, all the voices in the room vanished. She could hear only the pounding of her heart as he lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed them.

He did not speak as he led her from the room and up the stairs. When he opened the door to the bedchamber where she had dressed, he laughed and swept her up into his arms. He gave her a lusty kiss as he carried her into the room and set her on her feet. Stepping past him, she closed the door and leaned back against it.

Her smile wavered as she looked at her knitting bag on the chair. No, she would not risk using that powder. She would find a better way—a much better way—to keep Sebastian from thinking about the war tonight.

“Are you trying to keep me from escaping, sweet one?” he asked as he put his hands on either side of her head and leaned toward her.

Telling herself not to panic, that his words were simply teasing, Faith forced a smile to remain on her quivering lips. “If you wish me to be honest, the answer is yes.”

“Let me be as honest. I love you. I have told you that, but you have not shared that truth with me. Do you love me?”

Her finger traced the length of his assertive nose as she said slowly, “You are an arrogant British lord. You are here to intimidate my neighbors into surrender. You have followed me, not trusting me.” She laughed as he put his hands at her waist. “Of course, I love you, Sebastian.”