Now and Forever (80 page)

"That is not your concern."

"I'm not the one who goes sneaking around at night during a snowstorm." She grinned as he glanced down at his snow-covered cape and the pool of water forming at his booted feet. "Didn't think I'd notice, did you?" she asked, reveling in his surprise. "Details, Mr. Devane. It always comes down to the details."

She had to hand it to him, however. He dissembled faster than a speeding bullet. "What did you seek to find in my library, madam?"

"A map," she said, opting for the truth. "I needed to know my location."

"And what will you do now that you have found your location?"

"I'll leave tomorrow at dawn."

"To find your husband?"

She nodded. "Yes. And to find my friends."

"Tell me their names," he persisted, stepping into her space. "Mayhap I have some knowledge of their whereabouts."

"You wouldn't know them."
Trust me on that one.

"Their names," he persisted.

No way, Devane. That's the last thing I'm about to tell you.
She was unimportant in the scheme of things but Andrew and Shannon had a destiny to fulfill. "I don't see what--"

"Their names, he bellowed."

"Ronald and Nancy Reagan."

He considered her words. "I do not know them."

She bit the inside of her cheek. "I didn't think so."

He studied her carefully. The last man to study her so carefully had the initials OB-GYN after his name. "And you last saw them--"

"In the snow," she said, feigning a look of deep sadness. "In the woods."

He took another step toward her. She took another step backward. The edge of his cherrywood desk bit into the back of her thighs. "And what of your husband, madam? When last did you see him?"

"The same time," she said, her heart thudding painfully inside her chest. "I--"

He pinned her hands behind her back and pulled her against him. If he didn't look bent on murder, it might have been exciting. "You lie, madam." His voice was low with menace.

"N-no," she stammered. "I'm telling you the truth."

"The grieving widow had best get her story straight."

Widow? Oh God...
She'd totally forgotten the glib story she'd spun for him in this same library a few hours ago. "I--I am terribly tired, sir. A slip of the tongue, that's all."
Think, Wylie, think! What tall tale did you foist on the man?
"We were walking--"

"You were in a stagecoach."

"--near Princeton--"

"Millstone."

"And we had an accident."

"At last," said Devane. "You have stumbled upon the truth."

"Okay," she said, utterly exasperated. "So I lied to you. Can you blame me?"

"And what else have you lied about, madam?"

"Nothing," she lied. She summoned up a weak and guilty smile. "You are a stranger to me. These are, as you have said, dangerous times. Would you have bared your soul to the first person to come along?" She was on a roll. "I think not. I think you would--"

Kiss her?

Chapter Nine

Her mouth was full and inviting beneath his and, had the situation been different, he might have taken pleasure from that fact.

"Say nothing," Patrick murmured against her lips. "We are being observed."

She lashed out with her foot. He angled his body away from her and pulled her even closer.

"Careful, madam." He cupped her face with his hands and met her eyes. "You may yet sign your own death warrant."

"Don't tell me what to do. I'll--"

"Soldiers," he said in a low voice as he brought one hand to her throat as a warning. "At the window."

She threw back her head to scream but he quickly moved his hand to her mouth.

"Sweet Jesus!" he swore as she kicked him then darted toward the door. He tackled her about the waist and lifted her off the floor. "You will regret this."

"Let me go! If you think I'm going to let you bully me into--"

The pounding at the front door drowned out her words.

"Choose sides carefully, madam," he warned as he dragged her across the hall. "Your situation is most unusual and few would be so tolerant."

They reached the door as the Continental soldiers kicked it open.

"The list grows," Patrick said, eyeing the damage with some disgust.

The young officer, in full uniform despite the hour and the weather, bowed curtly to Patrick and more cordially to Dakota, who stood behind him.

Patrick recognized the man as one of the soldiers they'd met earlier.

"We heard a . . . commotion," said the soldier, his expression bland. "I wish to inquire of your safety."

"How kind of you," Dakota said, stepping forward. "As it happens, I need—"

"Privacy," Patrick interrupted. He gestured toward the door. "If you would take your leave, sir, we will retire once again."

The soldier made no move to leave. "While it was my wish to express concern for your well-being sir, I fear that was not the sole reason for this visit."

"Out with it, man," Patrick ordered. "The hour is late."

"'Twas our hope you would experience a change of heart, sir, but it becomes imperative that we take such matters into our own hands."

"What's he talking about?" Dakota's voice rose in question.

He shot a quelling look at the short-haired woman but doubted it would have the desired effect. Was she the only citizen of the thirteen colonies who did not understand the gravity of the situation?

"This house remains private property, sir," Patrick returned. "I wish you godspeed in securing another property for your needs."

"Your good wishes are unnecessary, sir." The officer reached inside his coat and withdrew a letter, complete with that all-too-familiar seal. "We have secured that which we require right here."

"George Washington again," Dakota whispered as the soldier extended the letter toward him. "This place is a goldmine."

Ignoring her, Patrick folded his arms across his chest and glared at the young officer. "You are not welcome here."

"That may be, Mr. Devane, but still we are come to stay." He nodded toward Dakota who now stood next to him. "We shall not inconvenience you and your wife."

"I'm not--"

He drew Dakota to his side. It would not go well for either of them if she chose this moment to inform the officer that they were strangers to each other.

Patrick placed a hand at her waist. "We are just wed, sir. This is not a time for company, even of a patriotic sort."

The officer's expression remained carefully blank. "The matter is beyond my power, sir. I offer you most humble apologies but beg your indulgence as we prepare for the General's arrival."

#

"The General!" Dakota's heart was beating so fast she thought she'd pass out. What red-blooded American woman wouldn't be thrilled at the thought of actually meeting the father of her country? Certainly her excitement had nothing to do with the fact that Devane had almost kissed her. "Is George Washington coming
here
?"

The young officer looked at her and smiled, the first real smile he'd offered since noticing her hair. "An honor it would be, Mrs. Devane, but His Excellency enjoys fine accommodations with the Widow Ford and her children."

She could barely contain her disappointment. "Which general, then?"

"General McDowell, madam, His Excellency's most trusted colleague and friend."

"A braggart and a coward," Devane said. "Unworthy of the command given him."

The officer's jaw tightened visibly. "An untoward comment, sir, from one who has chosen not to serve."

"Let General McDowell stay with the Widow Ford and her brood if the accommodations there are to everyone's liking."

"Would that it were possible, sir, but with Lady Washington's arrival imminent, there is no room for General McDowell."

"You bleed me like a stone with your taxes then take what you want from my home. Is there no end to the Continental treachery?"

"Take care, man," the soldier warned, "for your reputation precedes you. 'Tis a short leap from debate to treason."

Treason? Had she missed something? She thought they'd been having a discussion about closet space. She bit back a sigh. What she wouldn't give for five seconds inside Devane's head, just five measly little seconds and she'd at least have a handle on what was going on.

"Are you calling me out, sir?" Devane's voice rippled with menace.

The soldier took a step forward, his gloved hands clenched into fists. "If that is what you--"

The thought of physical violence made her go weak in the knees and she allowed herself to tumble in a heap at Devane's booted feet. She would've two-stepped to a chorus of
Disco Duck
if she thought it would break the tension but, given when and where she was, swooning seemed a safer bet.

The fact that she'd managed to stay upright this long was more of a miracle than she dared to contemplate. His touch had unraveled her defenses. Maybe if she'd been touched more often—and more recently—she wouldn't have reacted so strongly to the feel of his fingers against the skin of her throat.

He stared down at her.

She fluttered her eyelashes in a pathetic attempt at wielding her feminine wiles, praying he didn't leave her curled at his feet like a stray cat.

After what seemed to be an eternity, a grim-faced Devane swept her up into his arms. A bizarre feeling of relief washed over her and she almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

He didn't owe her anything at all. In fact, she wouldn't blame him if he handed her over to the soldiers and washed his hands of her.

"The hour is late," Devane said in that deadly tone she was coming to know well. "My wife is exhausted."

Dakota stifled a yawn. Some might call it overacting but it seemed like a nice touch.

After what seemed an eternity, the officer nodded "We will limit ourselves to the main floor for the night."

"You will limit yourselves to the main floor for the duration of your stay," Devane said.

"The general's wife will be joining him by week's end. Her requirements are quite specific."

"Hang the general's wife!"

Dakota laid a hand against his stubbly cheek. "Darling, you're tired," she said, praying he wouldn't stare at her in openmouthed astonishment. "You can see to this tomorrow."

He started to erupt again, but she increased the pressure on his cheek.

"The matter is not resolved," he said instead to the officer. "As my good wife said, we can continue this discussion in the morning."

"As you wish, sir." The young officer bowed deeply from the waist. "But our position will not change."

"Shut up," Dakota whispered in Devane's ear. "Two guys with really big muskets are standing near the library and they don't look friendly."

She could almost feel the adrenaline flowing through his body as she spoke. The guy really liked a challenge, she had to grant him that.

I could get used to this,
she thought as he carried her up the staircase in a major display of machismo. This was Rhett and Scarlett and her big wide smile the morning after. Of course, she didn't exactly have Scarlett's eighteen-inch waist, but she could cop an attitude with the best of them.

"Wait a minute!" she protested. "That's my room you just zoomed past."

"You forget, madam," he said through gritted teeth. "We are newly wed."

"The soldiers are downstairs. They'll never know the difference."

"You believe that to be true?"