War of Hearts, A Historical Romance (14 page)

Sarah again found herself sneaking out of
Tristan’s room at the crack of dawn. Again she found herself face
to face with the disheveled Ryan in the hallway.

His gray eyes opened in surprise; however,
instead of scurrying away he paused. “”Umm, Miss Sarah, would you
like to accompany me to the ball?”

“I’d love to,” Sarah muttered. They rushed
off in different directions as they heard footsteps on the
staircase.

She was looking forward to spending another
day with Tristan. She had never been to a seamstress before. Her
mother had been a wiz with a needle and always made their clothes.
Sarah was not nearly as accomplished, but after darning hundreds of
socks for the army her skill was improving.

Thinking of her mother brought tears to her
eyes. She moved to the washbasin and washed them away. At least
sleeping in Tristan’s arms kept the nightmares at bay.

She heard her door click open and turned to
find Randall glaring at her as he shut it behind him.

Shrieking as she stood in her nightdress,
she grabbed a towel and held it in front of her. “What do you think
you’re doing?”

Randall’s eyes took in her partially dressed
state with interest. “Ryan has informed me that you are
accompanying him to the dance.”

“Ryan is the utmost gentleman, unlike
you.”

His dark chuckle terrified her as he walked
closer. She frantically looked around for a weapon. Spying the
silver plated hairbrush, she dropped her towel and brandished it in
front of her as a weapon.

“Don’t come any closer!”

“What are you going to do, brush me?” He
grabbed her as she swung. His fingers painfully grasped her wrist
and twisted; she gasped, the brush clattering to the floor.

“I suggest you be much nicer to me, if you
care about the health of your lover.” He pulled her against him as
she continued to struggle. He grasped her hair, pulled her head
back, and covered her mouth with his. She kept her lips tightly
together in rebellion. Undaunted, he cruelly grabbed her breast,
causing her to gasp and give him access.

Thoughts swirled in her mind; should she
fight? Should she play along? She felt his hand slide up the back
of her bare thigh until he reached her bottom. He grasped it and
pressed her against his excitement.

Fight it is.

A sudden knock at the door caused him to
pause. She was never happier to hear Cecilia’s voice.
“Breakfast.”

“You better go and eat. You will need the
energy,” he whispered in her ear before leaving just as abruptly as
he appeared.

She quickly locked the door behind him and
sank to the floor. Her body shook silently, trying to keep in her
emotions. Everything was going wrong; she was running out of time.
She doubted she could stave off Randall’s intentions for another
week or so. And if she confessed to Tristan, he would be in even
more danger. She had to make a plan. She could not risk Tristan’s
freedom.

***

Tristan took his seat at the table and
nodded to the Colonel and Ryan. He was looking forward to the
outing with Sarah today. She deserved to be pampered. He started to
worry a bit as she did not arrive before the eggs and tarts were
served. Randall appeared next, his uniform was a bit creased today
and Tristan would have found it humorous had he not been concerned
about Sarah.

Perhaps he should have let her rest more
last night. Then again, she seemed to enjoy their tryst as much as
he did. The Colonel’s voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned
to the older gentleman.

“I was going to wait for Miss Sarah, but she
appears to be a bit shy this morning. She has agreed to accompany
Ryan to the Ball. Isn’t that grand?”

Ryan blushed a bit and sipped at his juice
silently.

“I couldn’t imagine a more suitable couple,”
Tristan replied as he noticed Randall’s grim face. “Speaking of the
Ball, I promised Sarah to help her find the perfect gown for the
evening. Good day Gents.”

***

She didn’t know how long she had sat there.
She was startled when there was a knock on the door.

“Sarah?” Tristan called out with
concern.

“Yes?” she asked, surprised that her voice
worked.

“Are you alright? You missed breakfast.”

“Just fine, I’m getting ready. Give me a
moment,” she hurried to her feet and headed over to the washbasin.
She sighed, peering into the mirror; she looked as weary as she
felt. Her eyes had shadows from lack of sleep and her lips were
puffy from the bastard Randall. She splashed water on her face
before bending to retrieve the brush off of the ground. She needed
a better weapon than that.

Running it through her hair, she winced as
she ripped into the tangles. Pinching her cheeks to add a bit of
color, she threw on a long sleeve gown and finally opened the
door.

Tristan took in her smile and noticed that
it didn’t match the despair in her eyes. Something had changed. Was
she angry about their arrangement?

“Let’s go!” she said, pushing past him and
heading for the stairs. A confused Tristan followed slowly.

He found her in Molly’s stall in the
stables. He ordered the carriage to be readied and slipped Molly an
apple as he joined her.

Sarah watched Molly devour the fruit as her
own stomach rumbled. She immediately pushed away her own hunger.
She had been much more famished than this. She knew from experience
one could go so several days without food, and that two people
could eat off a rabbit for a week. Tristan placed his free hand on
her back and she about jumped out of her skin.

“What is going on?” he asked, his voice
thick with concern.

“Nothing,” she replied. “Let’s just get this
over with.”

The carriage was ready so Tristan left his
questions for later. He helped her into the seat and joined her as
they headed off. She was grateful for his silence as they drove. It
was a beautiful day but Sarah was in no mood to appreciate it.

She was thinking about leaving; however,
even if she ran Tristan would still be in danger. Men like Johnson
lived for control. But more so, it would impede her plans to save
the prisoners.

No, he would hold no power over her. Randall
was the one who had to go. Her mind whirled with possibilities, all
of which ended up pointing to her, or even worse, Tristan. The
British did not take kindly to losing officers, even if they
deserved it.

“Why so quiet? Most women would be thrilled
to be dress shopping. They do have the finest fashions from
London.”

“I’m not as superficial as most women,” she
retorted as she took in the new part of town. There were all kinds
of shops and the smell of fresh bread drifted out of a corner
bakery. Her stomach rumbled eagerly and she ignored it.

He pulled the carriage to a stop but made no
attempt to exit. In fact he turned toward her, his brow creased
with concern. “I’m sorry; I never should have taken advantage of
you. It was purely vanity for my part. You are a true beauty and I
wanted you at any cost.”

Sarah looked at him sadly. “’Tis not your
bad manners that upsets me. However, it is getting a bit tiresome
watching you and the Major locking horns. And it scares me to think
he could win.”

“I would not let him hurt you.”

“Really?” Sarah asked, pulling back her
sleeve to show him the fresh bruise on her wrist.

“What did he do?” Tristan asked; his voice
had a deadly tone.

“He popped in this morning while I was
dressing. Apparently he has a key. After being accosted, I lost my
appetite.”

“I will run him through! Why didn’t you tell
me earlier?”

“I was not planning on telling you at all. I
have enough on my plate without having to rescue you. And as far as
sharing your bed, you can visit me next time. I am a bit tired of
sneaking half naked down the hallway.” With that, Sarah hopped out
of the carriage and started toward the shop marked
‘Seamstress’.

The strong scent of perfume assaulted her as
she stepped inside. Breathing through her mouth, she looked around
at the display of dresses, wigs and accessories. The walls were
lined with display dresses, most of them in majestic colors. At one
point in her life she would have been mesmerized by the meticulous,
flowing gowns, but not now. Now they were trivial, at best.

Tristan reached her after tethering the
carriage and they were soon put-upon by the proprietor. A tall,
thin man whom had diminishing brown hair, greased back to stay in
place. He squinted at them through round spectacles as he greeted
them warmly.

“Such a lovely couple! Let me
guess…Wedding?”

Tristan felt Sarah tense next to him and
spoke up. “Actually, we need a ball gown, and I want the best in
the land.”

“My dear sir, we only have the finest here.
Of course we can’t get French silk, but we do have the very best
silk from Virginia. If you ask me it is far superior to that from
London. What colors were you thinking of? Green would look
marvelous with your complexion.”

“Black,” Sarah replied.

“Black? You must be jesting,” he chuckled,
looking at Tristan for affirmation.

Tristan shrugged. “Whatever she wants;
anything would look lovely on her.”

The man pressed his lips tightly together,
deep in thought. He was so still Sarah jumped when he snapped his
fingers. “My dear, I do not make dresses here. I make creations and
black just will not do. Might I suggest a dark, smoky gray?”

It was Sarah’s turn to ponder; the color of
black smoke, the kind that billowed out of the cannons and seeped
into your lungs with every breath. A battle dress; how perfect. “I
believe we are in agreement.”

He clapped his hands happily and dragged her
to the back room to measure her. An older woman greeted them with a
smile. The notch in her front tooth from holding thousands of
needles hinted at her skill. Sarah liked her at once.

Tristan however, was not very happy watching
the man wrapping his arms around her and measuring every inch of
her body. He was even less thrilled as he kept murmuring
‘perfect’.

“How long will it take to create this
masterpiece?” he asked gruffly.

“A couple of weeks.”

“You have one.”

“One!? Impossible.”

“Make it possible and I shall pay you
double.”

“One week is plenty of time!” he said,
forcing a smile as he murmured under his breath ‘if I don’t
sleep.’

The measuring took longer than Sarah
expected; she was growing tired of standing still and scowled at
Tristan. She gasped as the man measured her inseam. However, the
dark look on Tristan’s face caused her to smile. A couple
measurements later, she was done.

Tristan paid the man an enormous amount of
money and then guided her back outside.

“Black? Always the rebel.”

“My heart mourns.”

“I would like to fill the gaps.”

She turned to him. “You do.” They were only
a breath away and before she realized what she was doing, she had
stepped forward and brushed her lips with his.

Tristan’s heart pounded in his ears; it was
a simple gesture. However, it was the first time she had instigated
any romantic contact between them. He wished that the lane was not
milling with passersby; he wanted to do so much more.

“I need to get you back; I have a meeting
with Gabriel.”

“Don’t you mean
we
have a meeting
with Gabriel?”

“It is too dangerous, I have a reason to
visit my own ship, and you do not. You will be safer at my
home.”

“Like I was this morning?” she replied with
a slight tremble.

She hated the fact that Randall scared her;
she had seen so much of war and violence, you would think she would
be immune to it all. The thought of being away from Tristan scared
her even more. When had she developed this debilitating
connection?

Perhaps it was because she felt safe in his
arms. That he would protect her from all the demons, real and
imagined. Her heart sank as he again shook his head. “He is on
patrol, it is doubtful you will see him at all today.”

Sarah nodded in agreement as her mind
whirled, searching for solutions. She was quiet on the trip back;
she wordlessly climbed out of the carriage and entered the house.
She refused to watch him ride away without her.

Sarah stopped in the kitchen, listening for
voices; she heard none and relaxed a bit. She spotted some fresh
cherry scones on the stove and grabbed one to eat. She nibbled on
it as she thought of her next move. A glint of silver caught her
eye and she turned to look at the silverware that had just been
freshly polished lying on the small table.

Sarah picked up a gleaming knife and studied
it silently. It was a butter knife, but was sturdy with a sharp
tip.

“Pardon me, Miss,” Cecilia spoke up,
stepping into the room. Sarah jumped at her voice and laid the
knife down with a clank. Her eyes looked up to meet the maid’s, she
was shocked by Cecilia’s blackened eye and swollen face.

Wordlessly, Cecilia turned to the hutch
behind her and pulled out a drawer. She reached in and drew out a
wicked looking knife. “Every woman needs a good boning knife. This
one can cut through a pig with little effort.”

Their eyes met with understanding as Sarah
wordlessly took the knife and headed back outside to formulate her
plan. She saddled Molly and was on her way in minutes. She wasn’t
sure of her exact destination as she headed down the road, but she
had a fair idea where to find it. Four blocks later, she stared up
at the Youngblood tavern.

***

Tristan rowed out to the
Sea Maiden
;
he was easily spotted and the ladder was tossed down to him.
Gabriel greeted him at the top with a handclasp. After
acknowledging the crew, they headed down to the captain’s quarters
for privacy.