Authors: Beverly Jenkins
Henri nodded. “Miss Kingston and her father were nice enough to invite me over for supper a few weeks back.”
Nicholas looked curiously over at Faith and then back to Giles. “What brings you to my door?”
“A matter that needs discussing.” He turned to the members of the patrol. “Mr. Grey is an acquaintance. I’ll speak with him and get this matter resolved. Continue the patrol and I’ll meet you later.”
They nodded and rode away.
After the departure, Nicholas asked, “Well?”
“Mr. Kingston wants you arrested for holding his daughter against her will.”
Faith stared.
Nicholas shook his head. “Let me unhitch the wagon and we’ll go inside.”
A short while later they convened in the parlor.
Nicholas asked, “So he’s claiming Faith is being harmed?”
“Yes, and that she was in serious distress.”
Faith asked, “Do I appear to be in distress, Henri?”
“No. In truth you look rather well.”
“Thank you.”
Nicholas glanced between the two and wondered if this was what jealousy felt like.
“Is something wrong?” she asked him, peering at him closely.
“No.”
Giles smiled Nick’s way as if he knew what Nick had been thinking, and then asked her, “So how did you come to be here?”
“My father became angry and cast me out.”
“He cast you out?”
So once again, Faith related the circumstances that led to her being at the Grey home.
At the conclusion of her tale, he shook his head. “My apologies. I had no idea he was lying to me about the situation.”
Faith said, “And here I had just wished him happiness in his marriage.”
Nicholas added yet another sin to Kingston’s slate. “So what will you tell your superiors?”
“The truth. The only reason we were sent was because Kingston appealed to General Gage for assistance.”
Nicholas did not like the sound of that. The last thing he needed was to draw Gage’s eye, especially in light of his father’s fate and the guns he was hoping to take possession of soon.
Faith snapped, “How dare he go to Gage when he is the cause of all this, and I resent his underhanded ways of attempting to make me return simply because Elizabeth can’t cook a decent breakfast, or whatever his reason is. He made it plain to me that he and Elizabeth didn’t want me in their home. I bowed to his wishes.” She looked Giles in the eye and said, “And make certain you tell your superiors that Nicholas and I are to be married, just in case my morals are called into question and Father wants some ridiculous tribunal convened to decide my fate.”
“You’re marrying? Nick?”
“You sound as if that’s troubling, Lieutenant,” she stated, eyeing him coolly.
Nicholas smiled and hoped Giles had the sense to stow whatever else he had to say before she filleted him like a trout.
“No, Miss Kingston,” he offered up hastily. “Not troubling in the least. In fact, let me offer my congratulations.”
Smart man, Nicholas thought.
Giles glanced Nick’s way but Nicholas kept his amusement hidden.
“I hope you both will be very happy.”
“Thank you. And now”—she paused and stood—“I shall you leave you two to catch up on old times. Nicholas, I’ll be upstairs. I had a wonderful day.”
Both men rose chivalrously.
Nicholas inclined his head.
She looked to Giles. “Henri. It’s been a pleasure seeing you again.”
“Pleasure seeing you as well.”
She exited and closed the doors so they could converse privately.
After her departure, Henri remarked, “She’s quite a fiery woman.”
“That she is,” Nicholas agreed. “And her father, the village idiot.”
“Appears that way. I should apologize to you as well.”
Nick waved him off. “I’m accused of abducting women all the time.”
Henri nodded and grinned. “Glad to see you made it off the
Stella
alive.”
“Looked for you in the madness, but had to go overboard to save myself. Many men died in the fire. Many more when it sank.”
The
Stella
had been a British frigate. With over one hundred impressed sailors among the crew, the mutiny that occurred during Nick’s tenth month at sea seemed inevitable. It was not a pleasant time in either man’s life. “Where’d you go after the fire?” Nick asked.
“Found some smugglers who were sailing east and signed on. Spent a couple of years with them and various others in the trade. Rather liked it. Worked my way back to England and then to Canada and home. What about you?”
“Merchant ship that cast off the following morning. Took at least five of us on and the admiral’s stallion. He was a smuggler, too. Guns.”
“Always a market for those.”
“Always. Especially if your clients are maroon villages in Jamaica and the Indies. He also did some business here in the colonies as well. I never knew there were so many maroon encampments in the southern swamps.”
“Not something the slave owners want known. Escaped slaves armed and living free? Other slaves might escape to join them and then chaos would result.”
They shared a look and Nicholas chuckled.
Henri asked, “So how’d you end up in Boston?”
“Was born here. In this very house in fact.”
“I didn’t know that. When did you return?”
“Last month. Have been in New York for the past few years. It’s where I was living when the Royal Marines shanghaied me.”
“At least we are alive to tell the story.”
“And for that I am grateful. And now you are wearing a British uniform.”
“Let’s just say there’s a profit in it.”
“Still smuggling, I take it.”
Henri smiled. “Just enough to send money home to my mother and sisters, and to keep me from having to beg employment at the taverns like some of the soldiers are forced to do. King George doesn’t pay enough for his men to subsist on, and the food and lodgings are worse. So one has to be inventive to survive.”
“I’ve a few irons in the fire as well.” He didn’t say more. Henri didn’t need to know anything about Nick’s business dealings.
“If I can assist, let me know.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. Are you planning on being here for the duration?”
“I hope not. There’s going to be a war. I’ve no stomach for more death and dying.”
“Neither do I.”
Henri looked at the small clock on the mantel. “I should rejoin my fellows.” He stood and Nicholas did the same. Nicholas walked him to the front door.
“Give Miss Kingston my regards?” Henri said.
“I will.”
“You’re a lucky man, Nicholas Grey.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I assume you are supporting the rebels?”
“I’d support hogs over the British,” Nick replied fiercely.
“I understand. I’ve no idea how much longer I’ll be in Boston, but if I don’t see you again, be well and enjoy your life.”
“You do the same.” Nicholas watched until he rode away before closing the door.
U
pstairs in her room, Faith finally stopped the angry pacing caused by her father’s actions. She realized there was nothing to be done about him for the moment, so she focused on undressing and hanging her cape and the rest of her new ensemble in the armoire. Giving the soft fabric one last appreciative stroke, she drew on one of her old skirts, added a blouse, and did up the buttons. Her mind strayed to Nicholas. She’d made him a promise that she wouldn’t question his spending, but she couldn’t help but wonder how he’d made the fortune he seemed to have, and of less importance, how and where he and Henri first met.
A knock on the door made her look up. “Yes?”
“May I come in?” It was Nicholas.
“Yes, of course.”
She went to the door but he was already entering. It came to her that he was without a doubt the most handsome man she’d ever seen. “Has Henri gone?”
“Yes. He sends his regards.”
“Where did you two meet?”
“On a British frigate. I’d been impressed and so had he.”
Faith shook her head sadly. “I’ve heard terrible stories.”
“All of them true, no doubt. I was in a tavern on the docks of New York when a group of Royal Marines entered. They announced their intentions, a fight ensued, and I was hit over the head and knocked out. When I woke up, I was on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic.”
Faith’s heart went out to him. “How long did you serve?”
“Almost a year. Henri and I both managed to escape when the crew mutinied and the ship was set afire.”
“I’m sorry you were forced to endure impressments.”
“So am I.”
Impressed men were sometimes chained and whipped to keep them in line. She hoped he hadn’t been subjected to that as well, but the granitelike set of his features told all. To lighten the mood, she said, “Thank you again for my purchases.”
“Again, you are welcome, and thank you for changing the subject. Those are times I’d rather not revisit.”
“I understand. How about I let you revisit my traitorous father instead, and you can tar and feather him this time for siccing the patrol on us.”
“If I thought you meant it, I’d already be on my horse,” he replied with amusement in his eyes.
She laughed softly. “Whatever are we going to do about him?”
Nicholas walked to her and draped his arms loosely around her waist, and said, looking down at her, “We aren’t going to do anything. At least not this minute. Right now, you are going to let me kiss you the way I wanted to on the street.”
She raised an eyebrow and replied with humor-laden skepticism, “And if I say no?”
He traced a slow finger over her lips, bent down, and whispered, “Then you’ll be missing this . . .”
It was the first kiss of the day, and the brushes of his lips, coupled with the seductive timbre of his voice, made denying him unthinkable. His fervent mouth made hers catch fire instantaneously, and they pulled each other closer. Roaming hands, breathless sighs, and kisses that traveled over lips, jaws, and the planes of cheeks stoked passion higher. In the timeless moments that followed she lost touch with everything but his caresses and her soaring response. She’d no remembrance of him opening her blouse, but when her shift was pulled aside and his mouth found her breasts, she moaned and tightened with scandalous delight. He lingered, teasing and tonguing until her moans turned to groans. His hand moved up and down her shift-covered torso, then circled low to possessively cup her hips. When he raised himself to capture her lips again, he shoved her skirt gently up her thighs and moved the bunched-up fabric freely over the loose-fitting drawers. The heat of his exploring palm pierced the worn, patched cotton, and Faith knew she was going to dissolve into steam.
“Someone’s knocking at the door downstairs,” he whispered against her ear. “Let’s bring you to pleasure and then I’ll go shoot whoever it is.”
Faith hadn’t heard a thing. Her entire world was filled with sensations, so when he boldly slipped his hands into the long slit of her drawers and stroked the damp vent between her thighs, she shattered like a glass hit by a stone. Her high-pitched yell combined with the now familiar shuddering that accompanied her body’s uninhibited release rocked her like the boom of cannon. She was still riding the remnants of the storm when he kissed her softly and departed, leaving her breathless, shuddering, and alone.
Downstairs, Nick snatched the door open. “What?”
It was Arte. “Good afternoon to you, too,” he cracked. “Why’re you growling at me?”
“What do you want?” Nick asked, holding on to his patience.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“You can say that.”
Arte looked chagrined. “My apologies. Just came to let you know that Uncle Ab will be here on Saturday at two, to marry you and Faith, if that’s agreeable.”
“It is. Thank you.”
“Sorry again.” He left the porch quickly and Nick closed the door.
Upstairs, she was standing just as he’d left her; clothes in disarray, lips swollen from his kisses.
“Who was at the door?” she asked quietly.
“Arte. We’re to be married at two on Saturday.”
Her eyes lingered on his mouth, then rose slowly to his face. “That will give Charity time to make the cake.”
He walked over to where she stood by the fire and dragged a slow finger over the soft tops of her velvet breasts and down the valley between. Leaning in, he used the tip of his tongue to taste the spot and pressed his lips against the nook of her throat. His manhood was hard as a length of mahogany. He wanted her to touch him, but knew it was too soon to ask that of her; she was still new at this dance, so he concentrated on her pleasuring instead.
The fog rose up again to enclose Faith in a world where only they and desire existed. Sunlight poured through the room’s many windows, highlighting something else she didn’t know. She thought lovemaking was only done while lying in bed at night, but that was obviously not true. What was true was that he was an expert at this, and when his fingers between her thighs showed how much, she shattered and cried out again.
Nicholas was breathing as if he’d run a race and he forced himself to move away from her or break his vow to wait for her to become his wife. He retreated across the room and took up a position near the windows, hoping the distance might help him regain control. He saw that she was breathing just as harshly. As she stood there with her nipples hard and her lips parted, the hunger in her passion-lidded eyes made him turn away or be lost. “I need you to right your clothing again, Faith.”
Because he had his back turned he missed the slow smile that crossed her lips as she complied. After a few moments of silence, he heard her say, “I’m done, Nicholas.”
He turned and saw that although she was dressed, it would be a while before the way she tasted and felt faded from his body’s memory. In truth, he’d want her for a lifetime, but for the moment, he just needed his desire to retreat long enough for his breathing to normalize and his manhood to stop its virile pulsing. “You’re very tempting, Miss Kingston.”
“As are you, Mr. Grey.”
“Are you enjoying this part of our adventure?”
“Very much.”
Nick wondered what their children might look like. Would there be raven-eyed daughters who were miniatures of their mother, or tall, lean boys with features reminiscent of him and their late grandfather. He’d settle for either just as long as he could continue to visually feast on her loveliness.
Later, they shared dinner at the small table in the kitchen. The warmth and light emanating from the fire made the atmosphere in the room very cozy.
Nicholas watched her moving around the kitchen putting up the last of the dishes and utensils they’d used for the meal, and he admitted that he knew next to nothing about her other than how much he craved her kisses, but he wanted to know more about Faith, the woman. “Have you and your father done much traveling?”
She shook her head as she retook her seat at the table. All the chores were done for the day. “Other than to Lexington and Concord for church events, no.”
“Never been to Philadelphia or New York?”
“Or down South, or to Rhode Island, or anywhere else but here. How did you come to live with the Iroquois?”
He didn’t respond for a few moments due to the flow of his memories. “It was during the Seven Years’ War. My father and I were with a British unit in New York. We were split into two patrols; he was in one, I was in the other. One morning, my unit came across an Iroquois village made of four longhouses.”
“What’s a longhouse?”
“It’s a very long house,” he said, smiling. “It’s made of upright poles and covered with tight layers of bark to keep out the weather. Some are a hundred feet long and twenty feet high.”
“These are Iroquois homes?”
“Yes. Inside, there’s often two living levels. The lower level for gatherings and cooking, and a place for the fire to keep everyone warm. The upper floor is usually for sleeping.”
“I guess I never thought about how they lived or what they lived in. All you hear are tales of savagery and butchery.”
“Makes it easier to take their land if they aren’t seen as human.”
She nodded her understanding.
“So on that day, we saw the village. A few days earlier, a farm a few miles away had been burned, and the occupants, a man, his wife, and three children had perished in the flames. Our lieutenant had no evidence that the people in this particular village of Iroquois were responsible, but he didn’t care. He ordered us to open fire, and we did.”
Nicholas quieted for a few moments and relived the sounds of the guns, the smells of the powder, the screams of the terrified women and children. “The men of the village must have been out hunting because there were less than a handful left there to oppose us when we opened our guns. They had only knives and hatchets, but they charged us anyway, giving their lives in the hope that some of the many women and children fleeing out the longhouse’s doors and into the woods would survive our assault.”
She tightened her lips and shook her head.
“In the midst of all the smoke, chaos, and death, someone in our unit put a torch to the houses and the four structures began to burn. By then, any Iroquois who could flee had done so and the men in our unit began to celebrate and cheer. Just as the last house became fully engulfed we heard a baby wailing. The cheering stopped and some of the men appeared concerned but it was just an Indian baby so . . .”
“So no one cared.”
“It seemed that way. Yes, we were at war, but this was a baby. I told the lieutenant I couldn’t stand by and let a child burn to death. He told me if I broke ranks, he’d have my fellows shoot me.”
Faith’s mouth dropped open.
“So I disobeyed orders, and by the time I reached the burning house, I had five balls in my back.”
“No!”
“Yes. Somehow I still managed to find the child and when I did, I took him out of that burning building, put him inside my coat, and stumbled off into the forest in the direction the tribe had taken. I swore never to serve in the British Army again.”
“So what happened next? You obviously lived.”
“Barely. There was another longhouse village a day’s walk away. I didn’t know it at the time, I was just hoping to find the baby’s people. By that point, I was delirious and in so much pain, I’d no idea where I was. The clan mothers said I walked into the village in the middle of the night and collapsed by a fire. They opened my coat to see if my heart was still beating and found the babe.”
“And they nursed you back to health.”
He nodded. “Eventually, yes.”
“As you did me.”
He nodded again.
“And the babe was well?”
“Yes. He turned out to be the grandson of the clan matriarch. She was very grateful that I’d saved his life.”
“How long did you stay with them?”
“A year or so. Long enough to develop a fondness for sleeping on a pelt pallet and to learn their ways and myths.”
“And after leaving them, where did you go?”
“North and west. Spent the next few years trapping, selling, and trading furs; guiding settlers; and accumulating enough wealth from the furs and the rest to call myself a very wealthy man.”
“So that explains why you are so loose with your coin.”
“I’m not loose. Since I can’t take it with me, why not buy you new drawers.”
She dropped her head and chuckled.
“In fact, the night I was shanghaied I was in a tavern celebrating having sold a load of furs to a Russian count. After vowing to never have anything to do with British military forces again, you can imagine my anger at finding myself impressed into their navy.”
“That had to have been terribly upsetting.”
“A polite way of stating it. I hate the British.”
After hearing his story Faith understood why.
He looked at her and said, “This was supposed to have been a conversation about you and your life and I ended up talking about mine.”
“That’s quite all right. My life hasn’t been nearly as exciting.”