Window on Yesterday (18 page)

“For tonight?” Alycia asked softly.

“For all time,” Patrick replied solemnly.

With a naturalness that seemed preordained, Alycia stepped forward, into his waiting arms. The feeling was one of homecoming. She sighed, and her parted lips trembled as Patrick slowly brought his mouth to hers. Their lips brushed, then hesitated, and then fused in hungry desperation. Life surged with wild abandon through her veins. The kiss deepened; Alycia felt it to the core of her being. Without thought or care, she arched to him at the instant Patrick grasped her hips to draw her against the heat of his hard body.

Slowly, inexorably, they sank as one to the cushion of grass. Lying beside her, murmuring her name, Patrick smoothly opened her robe. Pressing her lips to the moist skin at the base of his throat, Alycia shivered responsively to the new, yet familiar feel of his hands caressing her trembling body.

“I know I should not.” Even as he groaned the self-imprecation, Patrick was tugging at the waist cord on his breeches.

“I know.” Even as she agreed, Alycia slid her palm over the taut, naked skin covering his hips.

“But I must.” The conviction of his raw tone was as hard as the thighs that brushed against her own.

“I know.”

There was a moment’s pause, a breathless moment of shimmering anticipation. Arched over her, Patrick stared into her face. “I know not why,” he said starkly. “I know not how. I only know that I love you. I feel, strangely, that I have loved you forever. I
must
be one with you, make you mine, for all time.”

Alycia’s emotions shattered. She had heard similar words before. The love she had lost was found again. Tears of joy ran unchecked from her eyes. She smiled as he slowly lowered his head.

“And I am yours,” she whispered as his mouth touched hers. “For all time.”

Her pledge appeared to electrify Patrick. Shuddering, he crushed her lips with his and, as his tongue tentatively tasted her mouth, his body leaned into hers.

Alycia gave a muffled cry and went still. The sensation was unbelievable, like the very first time! Murmuring soothing words, Patrick waited, giving her body time to adjust to his. He began to move as he felt the tension ease from her body. It was heaven. New, yet somehow the same.

Within her mind, her embrace, Patrick blended into another, forming one entity. Patrick and Sean were one, her own love. Weeping softly, Alycia gave herself freely, joyously, to her love.

* * * *

The days that followed Alycia’s commitment to Patrick were both happy and bittersweet. They laughed together, they talked together, and late at night, when the house was quiet and hushed, they lay on the grassy bank of the river and made glorious love.

But their days together were numbered, and they both knew it. On Patrick’s last day they communicated with each other with long soul-searching looks from eyes already shadowed by the longing and pain of separation.

As darkness slowly shrouded the land on the evening of Patrick’s departure, Alycia was in a fever of impatience to be with him. Pulling the robe over her nightgown, she crept from the house and ran down the moonlit path to the river. He was waiting for her. When Alycia would have dashed directly into his arms, Patrick held her back.

“I will have you for my wife before I leave.” Though soft, his tone was firm with determination.

Alycia felt like weeping with frustration. “Oh, my love, I want to be your wife more than I need to breathe, but there’s no time ... no—

“There is a way,” he said, his voice drowning hers. “Come.” He held out his hand.

Without doubt, without questions, Alycia placed her hand in his and followed him down to the ground as he dropped to his knees. Her gaze trailed his as he tilted his head back, facing the sky. When he spoke, his voice was clear, his words succinct.

“As God is my witness, I, Patrick Sean Halloran, take thee...”

Patrick’s voice faded as Alycia’s mind whirled crazily. Patrick
Sean
Halloran!

Alycia came to her senses as Patrick’s hand tightened around hers. His voice reached her just as he ended his vow.

“Till death us do part.”

Later, as Patrick moved his body into the cradle of her thighs, he reaffirmed a portion of the vows of marriage.

“With my body I thee worship.”

Their union came as close to perfection as mortals were allowed to experience. With the ground for a bed and the sky for a ceiling, Alycia slept within the protective warmth of Patrick’s embrace. She awoke before dawn to the sweet stirring of passion aroused by Patrick’s lips and mouth making love to her. This time their union had the straining urgency born of desperation.

As the approaching dawn tinged the horizon a pale pink, they rose and walked in silence back to the house. Less than an hour later, attired in his uniform of buckskins, Patrick drew her into his arms for a farewell kiss.

“Forever, my love,” he whispered, skimming his fingertips over her face as he backed down the fan-shaped steps to his horse.

“Forever, my love,” Alycia responded, blinking the mist from her eyes as he vaulted into the saddle.

Patrick smiled and raised his hand in salute and goodbye. Tears washing her face, Alycia hugged her trembling body, her gaze fastened on his back until he rode his horse through the entrance gates and set the animal into a gallop. And then her husband before God was gone.

* * * *

The days that followed Patrick’s departure were long and empty for Alycia. In an effort to appear at least partially normal she engaged in any and every triviality Caroline suggested. September 11 came and went without incident. Only Alycia knew and grieved for the battle waged and lost at the Brandywine Creek.

After four days of hearing nothing, of seeing no courier, Alycia began to have tentative hope for Patrick’s safety. As she was preparing for the evening meal on the fifth day, Lettie informed her there would be a guest for dinner, an old family friend recently arrived from Richmond. Hardly in the mood to entertain company, Alycia delayed leaving her room until Lettie looked at her askance.

As she descended the stairs, Alycia could hear voices from the drawing room. Crossing the hall, she paused in the doorway. A gentleman was standing near the wide fireplace, reading aloud from the paper he held in his hand.

“ ‘We have lost seven hundred men, dead and injured. The gallant young Lafayette, though wounded in the leg, fought bravely on, his blood filling and then overflowing his boot, to no avail. The army is in retreat. Howe is moving to occupy Philadelphia. ‘Tis a sorry time for our brave soldiers, and ‘tis my sad duty to inform you of the death of one of Williamsburg’s finest young men. Major Patrick Halloran was felled while defending his position, less than three feet from his commander’s side.’“

“No.” Alycia backed away from the room, her head slowly moving from side to side. “No.” Her eyes were wide with horror, staring, staring into a future of nothingness. Then her voice rose to a keening wail.

“No!”

Alycia woke to the blackness of midnight and a depression that was blacker still. Her mind was a peaceful blank for a few precious seconds, and then the rush of memory brought a flood of agony and grief.

First Sean. Now Patrick.

Alycia raised her hand to her lips to stifle a scream of protest against a fate cruel enough to rob her of her love, not once, but twice.

“Patrick. Patrick.” Alycia repeated his name like a prayer, and as if in answer, an idea swirled, then began to take form in her mind. She had had no recourse when she’d lost Sean, nowhere to turn, nowhere to go. But she knew where Brandywine was, knew how to get there.

Alycia lay perfectly quiet for a moment, and then, with a burst of energy generated by desperation, she leaped from the bed. Moving swiftly, silently, she lit her bedside candle, left her room, and went to the storage room on the third floor. The room was dark and dusty. Alycia didn’t care. Crossing the room, she set the candle beside her on the floor, then raised the lid on a large trunk Lettie had pointed out to her when they’d toured the house soon after Alycia’s arrival.

The trunk contained the clothes and belongings of Caroline’s beloved son. Sending up a silent plea for forgiveness to the deceased Robert, Alycia rummaged through the assorted articles until she’d collected what she needed. After closing the trunk, she picked up the candle and hurried back to her bedchamber.

Some fifteen minutes later, dressed in a full-sleeved white shirt, buff-colored, drawstring breeches, and knee-high black boots, Alycia tied her hair back with a neckerchief and tiptoed from her room and from the house. She began running toward the stables the minute she was outside. She needed a horse. She was going to find Patrick, or his grave.

Alycia had only been on a horse four times in her life, and she was in no way expert. But expediency gave quickness to her fingers as she saddled the animal. She walked the horse out of the stable. Mounting was difficult, but finally she was up and off, trotting down the driveway. It was very dark, with only the moonlight and stars to light her way.

Handling the reins as she had been instructed, Alycia kept the animal’s pace at a trot until she found the rutted highway. Then she gave him his head. Rested and in need of a run, the horse stretched out his legs in a full gallop.

Alycia was beginning to hurt all over. After the initial burst of speed, the horse had settled into a steady ground-eating pace. Alycia lost track of time, but judged she had been riding for some four hours when she noticed the cloud cover blocking the light from the moon. Thunder rumbled in the distance. It began to rain, a gentle shower that soon turned into a heavy downpour. She was tired and soaking wet, but had no idea where to stop to rest.

Dawn came slowly, revealing the depths and heaviness of the storm clouds. Alycia grew uneasy, and transmitted her fear to the horse. The animal was already acting skittish when a crackling shaft of lightning speared through the roiling greenish-black clouds. Thunder boomed directly overhead.

With a high, piercing scream, the horse reared up on his hind legs, then leaped into a terror-induced gallop. Alycia could do nothing but hold on to the reins with a death grip.

A second flash of lightning, followed by a louder boom of thunder, sent the animal completely mad. Tossing his head wildly, he plunged across the road and into the trees. As terrified as the horse, Alycia didn’t see the low-hanging tree branch. She felt a stunning blow to her head, and then she was soaring through the rain. She was screaming before she hit the ground.

Sean!

Patrick!

* * * *

The echoes of her screams were still bouncing around in Alycia’s mind as she regained consciousness. Jerking upright, she opened her mouth and gave them substance.

“Sean! Patrick!”

She opened her eyes, expecting darkness. There was light. Bright light. Glaring light. Alycia shut her eyes. But the light was not as glaring as before. Her head hurt. But not as badly as before. Alycia jumped when a hand touched her arm. She was in the forest. Alone in the forest! Who was touching her? The hand was joined by another. Gently but firmly, Alycia was lowered to her back.

‘Take it easy. Take it easy. The doctor will be here in a moment.”

Doctor? Who was speaking? Alycia wanted to open her eyes, but was afraid of the light. Had Lettie missed her and raised an alarm? Had a search party found her lying on the ground in the forest? Alycia didn’t have the feeling of lying on the wet, hard ground. She was dry, and whatever she was lying on was soft. Strange. Alycia’s mind was working on the puzzle when there was a bang, like that of a door being flung open.

“I’m here. I’m with you. I’ll always be with you. I’ll never let you go.”

Alycia frowned. She had heard that voice, those same words before, but always in a dream. A warm hand clasped hers, tightly. She wasn’t dreaming! Alycia’s chest contracted, cutting off her breath. She was afraid, afraid, but she had to see, had to know! Slowly, fearfully, she opened her eyes.

She saw a wall, a white wall, and an open doorway leading on to a wide corridor. The door stood open against the wall. It had a small window. Swallowing against the fear clutching her throat, Alycia carefully turned her head. A sharp gasp burst from her lips as her gaze settled on a pair of eyes the color of a summer-blue sky.

“Alycia?”

“Sean!”

“Oh, God, Alycia!”

Strong hands lifted her up. Trembling arms drew her into a tight embrace. Tears of joy flowed down Alycia’s face, wetting Sean’s shirt.
Sean’s shirt!
Harsh sobs were torn from her throat. She was home! Home!

Like children who had been lost and were suddenly found, Alycia and Sean clung to each other, murmuring words and broken sentences that made no sense, yet both understood. Lost in the joy of being together, neither Alycia nor Sean heard another enter the room.

“Well, apparently your faith and persistence have paid off, Sean.”

The voice reached Alycia as if through a fog. There was something vaguely familiar about the female voice. Alycia tried to put a face to the voice, but she was too tired, too content with being crushed to Sean’s hard chest. She heard him release a long shuddering sigh before loosening his hold on her enough to glance around at the speaker.

“And your perspicacity, Letticia.”

The woman laughed, low in her throat. “Not to mention my perseverance,” she retorted dryly.

“Whatever.” Sean’s chest muscles rippled against Alycia’s cheek as he shrugged. The crack in his voice betrayed deep emotional strain. “Alycia’s conscious, fully conscious.”

“I really can’t give a medical opinion on that until I’ve examined her ... or, at the very least, seen her,” she drawled. “At the moment, my patient appears to be buried in your manly chest.”

Sean laughed, a rich, full laugh of sheer relief.

Alycia frowned. Medical opinion? Her patient? Was the woman a physician? Sean answered her questions with two words.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Yes, what?” the doctor asked wryly.

“Yes, she’s buried in my chest.” Sean was releasing her as he replied, “And, yes, you may examine her.” His hands gently grasped her shoulders, putting her from him even though Alycia murmured a protest. “It’s all right, love. I’ll be right here,” he promised, smiling tenderly as he lowered her to the bed.