The General’s Wife: An American Revolutionary Tale (27 page)

“You’re not coming,” he admonished.

She squeezed him tighter. “Neither are you.”

“We’ll just see about that, you little minx.” Sam swatted her hand away, replacing it with his thumb. As he pressed down, he plowed into her. Clara gave in to him, choking back her cry of release. She relaxed under him in suffused exhaustion as he came hot and deep inside her.

Sam collapsed, panting, then rolled to her side and hugged her close. As sleep crept over him, he murmured something that sounded like, “I love you.” She wasn’t sure as she was quickly lost in the depths of her own dreams, snug and safe in his arms.

* * * * *

Sam had been nervous before his meeting with Colonel Axford, and not even the memory of Clara under him the last few nights could dispel the anxiety. She was partly to blame, of course. With every slip of his cock inside her, he lost a little piece of his heart. Returning her was going to be sheer hell.

But when he met his superior officer at the gate and showed him to his war room, Sam felt immediately at ease. Jocular and fatherly, the colonel was strict but never harsh and, as they walked through the bustling yard, was complimentary of Sam’s management of the fort.

“General Strathmore has agreed to our terms, sir,” Sam said, offering his superior a seat at the meeting table in the center of the war room.

“Good work, Captain Taylor.” The colonel did not sit. Instead, he unfolded a large map he had brought with him and spread it out over the table. “However, there is some activity just south of here, in this area, that is of concern to me.” Colonel Axford leaned over the map. “Here,” he said circling his finger over a spot that was just north of Paul Bridgers’s property. “We understand that there was a fire on this property here, and some skirmishes between the British and local militia men.”

“Yes, colonel, sir. The man Bridgers, who owned the property, was one of our local sutlers.”

“Never heard of him, captain.”

“Yes, well, he, uh, remained neutral,” Sam said warily.

“Ha!” bellowed Axford. “You mean he worked both sides for his own profit. That’s fine, son. You won’t get any argument from me. Just as long as you didn’t trade any secrets,” he said, flashing a smile and winking. “Where is he now?”

“He’s dead, sir. He was killed in one of the skirmishes you mentioned. Fighting for our side, sir.”

“Too bad, too bad.” The colonel perused the map again. “What I wanted to show you was—”

There was a tentative knock on the door.

“Yes?” Sam called out.

“First Lieutenant Hamilton, sir.”

“Come in, lieutenant,” Sam called. “Colonel Axford is here.”

Pat entered, then beamed when he saw the red-faced jovial officer at the table.

“Patrick, my boy. Come here, and let me look at you.” Colonel Axford held his arms wide.

“Colonel, sir.” Pat grinned shyly as he approached the officer. The colonel embraced him in a big bear hug, slapping his back with good humor. “Have you seen Major General Hamilton recently, sir?”

“Yes, son,” Axford said gently. “Your father is well.” Pat’s father and the colonel had served in the Seven Years’ War together and were good friends.

Patrick seemed a little edgy. “Would you be able to deliver a letter to him?”

“A letter? Of course, my boy.” The colonel regarded Patrick quizzically. “What’s this about, son?”

Patrick looked down at the buckles of his shoes and shifted side to side. He drew in a deep breath. “I want his permission to marry.” He looked up at the colonel. “Sir.”

That was clearly not what the older man was expecting. “Marry?” he roared, his face turning a slightly deeper shade of crimson. “Who is she?”

Patrick blushed like an admonished school boy. “A girl at the fort, sir.”

“I see.” The colonel paced briefly before turning to face Pat. “You didn’t get her with child, son, did you?”

Pat flushed briefly once more and flashed a glance at Sam. “No, sir,” he said sheepishly.

Colonel Axford shook his head. “You boys are too quick to move ahead in life. It’s this damn war.” He placed a fatherly hand on Pat’s shoulder. “How old are you, son?”

“Twenty-three, sir.”

“You think you’re in love with her, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Pat said emphatically. “I’ve known her since the beginning of this year. We’ve grown close.”

Sam watched the struggle of emotion on Pat’s face. What Pat couldn’t tell the colonel was that he wanted to make sure Constance was protected, something he was determined to not fail at again.

Colonel Axford turned to Sam. “You know the girl?”

“Yes, sir,” Sam dutifully responded. “She’s kind, pretty, and completely devoted to Lieutenant Hamilton.”

The superior officer grinned broadly. “Ah, well, I was young once, too,” he said, putting an arm around Pat’s shoulders for a brief hug. “I’ll take the letter to Josiah, son. He’s down in New Jersey mustering his troops. We’re more encouraged now with the victory at Saratoga and the Hessian retreat from Ticonderoga.”

“Retreat?” Pat looked questioningly at Sam, who shrugged his shoulders.

“Ah, I see word travels rather inconsistently in this war,” mused the colonel. “The Hessians destroyed Fort Ticonderoga two weeks ago and retreated into Canada. We’ve beat them back for now.”

Sam exchanged a triumphant look with Pat.

“But, my boys, this thing with Strathmore worries me. We can’t have the British encroaching from the south. Let me show you.”

“Blast!” Pat muttered. “Sir, my apologies,” he said to Sam. “We received a note from Strathmore’s camp with a request to reconnoiter the exchange location. The note is from a Lieutenant Sebastian Hawkins.” Pat looked at the colonel and Sam. “Have you heard of him?”

They shook their heads.

“He wants to meet alone,” Pat added.

The colonel cleared his throat. “Well, Strathmore’s got plenty of troops spread out all over the place,” he said pointing to spots on the map. “So this fellow Hawkins probably feels he’s pretty well protected.” He looked at Sam. “You’ll be sending my boy Patrick for the job? He’s the best.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam responded with a grin.

“Well, Pat, you take some men with you. Have them follow you, out of sight. I don’t trust Strathmore.”

“Agreed, sir,” said Pat. “I’ll take my leave to work on the supply list. Captain Taylor and I can discuss specifics later.” The lieutenant bowed to his superiors.

Sam stared at the door after Pat left. Everything was moving too damned fast. It would be a bloodless battle for Clara, but the wound in his heart hurt like a jab from a bayonet.

* * * * *

Pat headed over to the kitchen to review the supply list with Mrs. Scott. It gave him an excuse to poke his head into the women’s workroom and say hello to Constance on the way. His brain buzzing with far too many worries and thoughts—marrying Constance, meeting this fellow Hawkins, checking supplies—he did not notice Lady Strathmore skulking behind him when he greeted Mrs. Scott.

“I am under strict orders to not let you work in the kitchen, my lady,” Mrs. Scott warned when she saw her standing in the doorway.

“I was hoping to speak with Lieutenant Hamilton, if I may,” she said timidly.

Pat had been avoiding Lady Strathmore since his reunion with Constance, but he could not continue to do so in front of others. “We’ll continue in a moment,” he said to Mrs. Scott. He steered the viscountess by the elbow out into the yard. “What is it, my lady?” he said, barely suppressing his irritation.

She looked at him perplexed. “Patrick, why are you so cross with me?”

Because your damned husband nearly killed my girl
. “Is that what you needed to ask?”

“No,” she stammered. “I wanted to know about the man with Sam.”

Pat once again grabbed her arm and guided her along the covered walk toward the captain’s war room. He glanced around furtively before pushing her into the broom closet along the passage and closing both halves of the double door behind him.

“Hey—” Her palms slapped against the limestone wall as she fell forward.

Pat covered her mouth with his hand, forcing her to stumble backwards against him in the dark. “Lady Strathmore, I would appreciate it if you would refer to the captain and myself by our military titles when we are in public.”

She nodded and he released his hold on her mouth. “Yes, lieutenant,” she murmured obediently.

He encircled her waist with one arm and her shoulders with the other and pulled her close, restraining her. “Strathmore’s got his troops all over the bloody place,” he growled. “What say you, my lady? Is all this for you?”

She tensed. “No, no, it couldn’t be. He’s planning something,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Planning what? Planning to attack us? Was your kidnapping merely a ruse to get you into Fort Revolution? I think you’re working for your husband.”

She twisted around in his arms. “No!” she hissed in his face.

In a flash, Pat had her up against the back wall of the small closet, his hips weighing into hers, his hand crushing hers against the cold stone above her head. “Then, pray enlighten me, my lady. What is it you think your husband is planning?”

Her panting breaths were hot on his lips. “Where are his troops? Is there a river or stream, something to bathe or swim in nearby?”

Arousal sparked in his groin. “I believe so.” Her body grew warm under his. It took every ounce of control to not rock against her.

“And a house, a bawdy house. Is there one nearby?”

“Only Bridgers’s and it was burned down.” He breathed her in. She smelled like Sam, his soap, his sweat. His cock throbbed.

“All the buildings, lieutenant? Some of the buildings are of brick and stone and built to purposely withstand fire. I know Paul used those for his clients, as well.”

Pat swallowed hard, unable to erase the image of Constance being brutally flogged in the blacksmith’s shop. “Go on.”

She squirmed, then emitted a quiet groan of despair when he merely pushed into her harder. “Before a battle General Strathmore gives his men time for relaxation. He believes it helps them fight better. They spend a few days resting and training. He may have also procured prostitutes, or even pressed some village girls into such service.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Dinner conversations when other officers joined us. The general would never speak to me directly about military strategy.”

She once again shifted under him, unwittingly rubbing against his erection. He pressed into her harshly to assuage his needy cock, the heat and scent of her body goading him to explore.

He drew his hand along her waist to her hip. “What about a Lieutenant Sebastian Hawkins? Do you know him?”

“Yes. Not well.” A breathy tremor infused her voice. “He’s General Strathmore’s aide-de-camp.”

“Do you trust him?” Pat released Clara’s arms and hips from under his weight to allow both his hands to follow the curves and contours of her body.

“Paul wrote me a note saying I could trust Hawkins.” She sighed imperceptibly.

He brushed his lips against her neck as he untied her top. “Do you still have the note?”

“Yes.” She stretched, giving him more access. “It’s the only thing of Paul’s I have left.”

She did not resist his touch. Instead, she moved as if inviting more intimacy.

He slid his hands under her top to cup her breasts through the stiff stays, and ran his thumbs over her bared cleavage, his mouth a hair’s breadth from hers. “Sam’s in love with you.”

She leaned in a little. “And I with him.” Her lips touched his.

Pat hovered for only a second before he took her in a violent kiss, his tongue plunging viciously, demanding the satisfaction his mind and body craved. He scrunched up her skirts and shift, tickled the bare skin of her thighs, and slid a finger through her silky slit. “You’re wet,” he breathed against her neck, thrusting two fingers inside her.

“Yes,” she whispered, moving her hips in rhythm with his probing touch.

Pat unbuttoned the fall of his breeches with his free hand. “You’re ready for me. You want me.”

“Yes, please.”

Clara found his stiff cock in the dark and guided it to her entrance as he bent his knees and lifted her leg for better access. She was wondrously warm and tight and climaxed instantly around him, stifling a sigh against his shoulder. She grabbed his buttocks and pulled him to her, encouraging his thrusts.

She was as skilled as a whore and as passionate as a randy maid. Her unceasing orgasms clenched him, gripping forcefully as if not wanting him to leave her body at all.

“Christ! You’re so damned tight,” he groaned. He couldn’t hold on much longer. He tried to pull out as far as possible to make longer strokes, only succeeding with two complete thrusts. As he drew back for the third, his prick popped out, jetting his emission over the inside of her petticoat. For several minutes, they held each other, panting.

And then reality descended. “Christ, what have I done?” He relaxed his hold on her.

“Please, Patrick, don’t send me back,” she pleaded. “You saw what he did to Constance. I can’t go back to such a monster. I want to stay here with you and Sam.”

“Clara, that’s impossible.” Pat pulled away to button his fly. “You know that.”

“I will do anything, please. If I can help with strategy, I will.” She reached for his hand. “You want me to be with you, don’t you?”

“You belong with Sam.” He was thankful she could not see the shame on his face for betraying his best friend.

“Please say you will try to make that so.”

He touched her face, her cheeks wet from crying. “Yes, Clara, I will see what I can do.” He felt around in his jacket for a handkerchief. “Now please, wipe your tears. I’ll take you to meet Colonel Axford. He’ll be interested in your information. Only, don’t mention anything about, uh, you know.”

“Coition with you and the captain?” she offered.

He knew she was smiling. “I see why Sam loves you.” He opened the door cautiously, looked both ways and, seeing no one about, gave her butt a gentle swat. “Let’s go.”

* * * * *

The captain’s war room was two doors down along the same passageway as the broom closet. As if she would escape, Patrick held Clara’s arm at the elbow while he walked her there and knocked on the door.