Rebellious Heart (19 page)

Was it love?

Did he love her?

For a moment, a well of emotion rose inside her. The words
I love you
pressed for release.

But she swallowed them. In the haze of her pain, she was surely only imagining his ardor. The borders of his affection ended at friendship.

After all, during their tryst in the closet under the stairs, he’d made his position quite clear. He’d said there could never be anything between them. She was not the type of woman he’d seriously pursue.

“Please, Mr. Ross,” the servant pleaded. “The most helpful thing you can do for Miss Smith is leave.”

Ben jammed his hat on his head, gave Susanna one last intense look, then spun out of the room, taking her heart with him.

Ben rounded the bend at a gallop. His heart pounded harder than the horse’s hooves hitting the ground. The anger inside had been building with each mile he’d traversed since he’d left the Smith household that morning. The decimated Smith household . . .

Ben spotted the Redcoats through the leafless trees on the edge of Cranberry Pond, and he steered his horse in their direction. He didn’t care if he disturbed their duck hunting or their leisure. His wrath demanded he confront Lieutenant Wolfe once and for all.

At his approach, a pair of mallards exploded from the marshes along the north end of the pond. The hunters had their fowling guns aimed and ready to shoot, following the trail of the birds as they spread their wings and climbed for the sky.

Lieutenant Wolfe stared down the barrel of a fine walnut flintlock. The crack of his discharge was deafening in the stillness of the secluded pond.

For a moment, the greenhead kept climbing, and Ben hoped
the lieutenant had missed. But then the bird fell away from its companion, diving back into the marsh from which it had arisen. In the grayness of the morning and the barrenness of the land that was now ready for winter, the fallen mallard would be easy to locate.

The lieutenant shared congratulations with his hunting companions, several of the landed gentry from the area that were loyal to the Crown. He then gave his assistant a command to retrieve the fowl before finally turning to Ben.

“My deepest gratitude, Mr. Ross,” called the lieutenant. “You helped to flush out my prey.”

Somehow the lieutenant’s words were not at all reassuring.

Ben reined his horse next to the small hunting party and glared down at the officer. “I’ve just come from Reverend Smith’s home. You’ve overstepped your bounds this time, Lieutenant.”

The lieutenant only lowered his gun and proceeded to rub the engraved serpent side plate. “Perhaps you’re the one who’s overstepping his bounds, Mr. Ross. What does or does not happen to the Smiths is hardly your concern.” The lieutenant paused and then pinned Ben with his sharp eyes. “Is it?”

The young assistant stumbled at the lieutenant’s words and cast Ben a shadowed look over his shoulder.

Ben didn’t dare to even nod at Sergeant Frazel. “Regardless of my relationship with the Smiths, no one in the colonies deserves the kind of disregard and mistreatment that you meted upon them this morning during your search.”

Ben had been shaken to the core when he’d returned to Weymouth early that morning only to find that Wolfe had already visited and ransacked the parsonage and barn in his search for what he claimed was smuggled goods. He’d even beaten one of the slaves.

“Everything I did was completely legal,” Lieutenant Wolfe
replied. “I had just cause to believe the Smiths were harboring illegal goods.”

“There’s nothing legal about what you did.” Ben fought to control his rising temper. “You acted on suspicion alone, without evidence, and with brutish force that defies common decency.”

“Those who are breaking the law must be prepared to suffer the consequences.”

“Every man deserves to be treated as innocent until proven guilty.”

The other gentlemen in the group had stopped their bantering. They stood silently watching the exchange, a cold drizzle beginning to fall against the brims of their hats and onto the shoulders of their heavy wool cloaks.

“One must wonder why you’d deserted the wedding party last night, Mr. Ross. Why you weren’t with the other guests this morning when I arrived.”

“The Smith home was already crowded enough and so I decided to return home to my own bed.”

“On such a dismal evening?” The lieutenant cocked a brow. “And during such a merry occasion? You surely had other reasons for departing.”

“Yes, like many of the other guests.”

“Like Susanna Smith? I suppose she had the same reason for departing that you had?” The lieutenant forced a pinched smile. But the look in his eyes told Ben he knew—not only of his connection with the smuggling but also his involvement with Dotty.

“There were many coming and going all evening. I cannot presume to know when and why Miss Smith left.”

“After your ardent portrayal of affection for Miss Smith that day at Arnold Tavern, your declaration rings false.”

Ben could feel the inquisitive stares of the other men, and heat crawled up his neck. He’d made Mr. Arnold promise not to breathe a word of his kiss with Susanna to anyone. And so far the kiss had been their secret. “Miss Smith and I share a fond friendship, ’tis nothing more.”

A slow smile twitched at the lieutenant’s lips. “Very well, Mr. Ross. Friendship it is.”

“Stay away from the Smiths and Susanna, Lieutenant Wolfe, or I’ll make a point of alerting your commanding officers in Boston about your unlawful conduct here in Weymouth. I’m sure they won’t be pleased.”

Dark shadows swarmed across the lieutenant’s face. For a long moment he fingered the serpent on the stock of his gun, his thumb polishing it into a gleaming silver.

Although Ben didn’t know the extent of the lieutenant’s situation, he knew the man had failed his commanding officers in Boston once before, and he couldn’t afford to disappoint them again.

“Be careful how you tread,” Lieutenant Wolfe finally said in a low, tight voice. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see undue harm befall any of your friends—your
fond
friends.”

The threat pierced Ben with the keenest of fears. And as he spurred his horse away from the lieutenant, he knew deep in his heart once again that he’d rather die than let any harm befall Susanna.

Ben’s pulse slammed with each hollow stamp of his boot in the stairwell. He was tempted to take the steps two at a time, but he forced himself to ascend in a manner befitting a gentleman.

After three days, Mrs. Quincy had finally given him
permission to visit Susanna. The three days had been the longest he’d lived through.

Every time he’d come calling at Mount Wollaston, Mrs. Quincy had told him Susanna was not well enough to receive visitors but was recovering from bruises to her tailbone and a chill from the wet ride.

From the twinkle in Mrs. Quincy’s eyes, he had the suspicion she was purposefully taunting him with the wait. And when she’d patted his hand only moments ago and quoted an old Roman poem, “The absent lover’s tide always flows stronger,” he’d certainly been able to confirm the truth of the quote.

Of course she’d laughed at him. He didn’t doubt she’d discovered the true depths of his feelings for Susanna. After all his pestering over the past several days, he supposed even a dead man could have seen how enamored he was with Susanna.

At the top of the steps, he halted and straightened the lapel of his fashionable new coat.

After the morning chores, his father had quirked a brow at him when he’d changed into one of the suits he’d had tailored in Boston during his last round with the circuit court. And when Ben had explained that he was riding to Mount Wollaston again, he’d pretended not to notice his father’s smothered grin or the teasing look that said
I told you so
.

Ben drew in a deep breath to still himself. He hid the book he was carrying behind his back. Then he trod quietly down the hallway toward the open door of the bedchamber where he’d deposited her after their difficult midnight ride.

His excitement over seeing her had pushed the heavy weight of his anger and frustration at Lieutenant Wolfe to the back of his mind. Even so, he paused before the door, tugged at his
cravat to loosen it. Mrs. Quincy had warned him she hadn’t yet told Susanna of the destruction to her parents’ home, that she hadn’t wanted to cause her granddaughter undue anxiety when she’d been ill.

Ben wasn’t so sure that was the kind of news to keep from Susanna, ill or not.

He brushed a speck from his coat sleeve, then stepped into the room.

She was propped against a cushion of pillows at the headboard, her coverlet smoothed and tucked neatly around her. Her hair, gleaming and brushed into submission, fell in long waves over a lacy night shift.

The contrast of her dark beauty against the mounds of white linen surrounding her stunned him so that he couldn’t speak.

As if the intensity of his attraction had announced its presence, she glanced up from the book she was reading.

“Ben,” she said softly. First her eyes lit, then her lips formed into one of her slightly cocked smiles that made her dimple bloom.

His breath hitched in his chest. For a moment he could only let himself feast upon her beauty.

She laid her book facedown upon her lap and held out a hand to him. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

She had?

His pulse clattered forward at twice the pace.

“I’d hoped you’d come visit me sooner.”

“I tried.” He swallowed the lump of nervousness that had been lodged in his throat and forced himself to cross toward her. “But your grandmother was beating me away with an iron skillet.”

Susanna’s smile widened.

“If she hadn’t let me past her today, I was considering climbing the trellis and sneaking in through the window.”

When he reached the edge of her bedstead, he was helpless to do anything but put his hand into her outstretched one.

Her fingers intertwined with his, and her eyes sparkled. “Maybe you can still consider sneaking in later.”

If not for the teasing half smile, he would have believed she meant the invitation.

“Don’t tempt me.” He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there with a gallant flourish, hoping to hide his desire behind his bravado.

When he straightened and let go of her, a pretty flush had stolen over her cheeks.

“You look well, Susanna.”

“I’m all but recovered, except for a slight chill and sore back. Nevertheless, Grandmother Eve insists I stay in bed for a few more days.”

“I see you’re not protesting overly loud.” He nodded at the copy of Samuel Richardson’s
Clarissa
. “Perhaps there are advantages to lying abed.”

Her smile was bright enough to bring in the sunshine that the late November day lacked. “I’m taking full advantage of Grandmother Eve’s tendency to indulge me—even if I have already read the book often enough to commit it to memory.”

“Then I hope you won’t think it presumptuous of me to have brought you this.” He took his hand out from behind his back and extended the second volume of Pope’s translation of
The Odyssey
.

“Oh, Ben.” She breathed his name like a caress, took the book from him, and stroked it.

The tension in his shoulders eased. He’d wanted to give
her something, a small token to show his affection, but he’d had a difficult time deciding what to bring.

Hannah Quincy had been satisfied with baubles and ribbons and flowers. But Susanna wasn’t like most girls. In fact, if he were honest with himself, that was exactly why he liked her—because she was different, because she wasn’t afraid to think and speak her mind and follow her passions.

Why couldn’t he pursue Susanna Smith? What was stopping him?

She certainly hadn’t resisted his attention. She’d even sought him out under the stairs because she’d wanted to kiss him. She wouldn’t have met him there if she didn’t have at least a little interest in him.

Over the past several days of pondering his feelings for her, he’d decided that even if a match with her wouldn’t be quite as advantageous as one with Hannah Quincy, he’d still gain much in a union to a woman of Susanna’s position.

Besides, his aspirations for Hannah had died. He had no desire for her and had to admit he never really had. He’d willingly conceded her to Bela Lincoln. He was better off putting his attention elsewhere . . .

Upon Susanna.

She hugged the book, then looked up at him, her eyes shining. “You are indeed a true friend. The truest friend anyone could ask for.”

He wanted to tell her he’d never be satisfied with
only
being her friend, that he longed to be something infinitely more dear to her.

But at that moment a servant strode into the room carrying a tray with a serving of tea and cakes. The old woman bustled over to the bed, stepping next to Susanna, forcing Ben to move away from the edge of the bed.

“Mrs. Quincy thought you might like tea.” The servant placed the tray onto the bedside table and nodded to the chair placed in front of the window, a safe distance from the bed. Her frown scolded Ben for taking the liberty of standing so close to Susanna.

Ben hesitated, but then crossed to the chair. He wanted to drag it across the braided rug and position it next to the bed where he could hold Susanna’s hand. But the servant directed another scowl at him, and he forced himself to sit.

The servant was only right in admonishing him. He needed to be careful lest he do anything that might soil Susanna’s reputation.

“Grandmother Eve has been unwilling to share any news regarding Lieutenant Wolfe for fear of upsetting me.” Susanna took the cup of tea from the servant. “But I know I can count on you to share the truth of what’s happened, regardless of my sensibilities.”