A Sweet Surrender
A SWEET SURRENDER
A Short Historical Romance
Lena Hart
A SWEET SURRENDER
Copyright © 2015
E-book ISBN: 978-1-941885-13-0
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
DEAR READER
A Sweet Surrender
is my debut into historical romance and I’m excited to be re-releasing it with a never-before-published prologue! This short story was initially published in the Revolutionary War anthology,
FOR LOVE & LIBERTY,
in reverence to America’s independence from England. But mainly, this story was written in respect to the “unalienable rights” we are
all
entitled to—life, liberty, and the pursuit of happily-ever-after.
Siara and James’ story is only a sample of what’s to come from me and my forthcoming historical romances so I hope you enjoy!
Happy reading,
Lena ♥
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A SWEET SURRENDER
New York, 1777…
Siaragowaeh of the Onyota’aka tribe has a love for all things living and when a fallen British soldier becomes severely wounded, Siara secretly nurtures the officer back to health, putting her own position in her tribe at risk.
Sergeant James Blake of His Majesty’s elite assault troops vaguely remembers the ambush that left him at the mercy of a beautiful native woman…a woman he isn’t yet certain he can trust. When a narrow escape from Siara’s village forces them on the trail together, desire soon flares even brighter between them.
Yet in a journey driven by duty and complicated by loyalty, Siara and James must determine if they will follow their predestined paths or surrender to their hearts and chart anew…
For all those who fought and all those who were forgotten.
“Independence is my happiness, and I view things as they are, without regard to place or person; my country is the world, and my religion is to do good.”
—Thomas Paine
Prologue
Early October, 1777
Upstate New York
The stench of blood and death was strong.
Fear was stronger.
It permeated the cool, autumn air of the ravaged battlefield and hung about as lurid as the groans of the dying men around him.
Not his men, however. None of them were among the dead. They wouldn’t be part of his elite cavalry had they made themselves so easy a target.
Sergeant James Blake surveyed the field of dead bodies, not as unaffected by the sight as his demeanor would suggest. But they were in the midst of war and sympathy or remorse was a dangerous companion to have in battle. Shrewd ruthlessness and cold indifference was what kept them alive. He needed to remember that and be grateful it wasn’t him or his men drawing in their last breath on the cool, damp earth.
Yet, the sight of the nameless enemy combatants that lay slain around him didn’t ease the cold pit that had settled in his gut. The familiar uneasiness only expanded until it crawled its way up the nape of his neck.
“Something doesn’t feel right about this attack, Sergeant.”
James grunted and turned to his corporal. “I agree, Thomas. These men weren’t trained to fight.”
In fact, the soldiers they had easily defeated had been like sitting ducks, used only as targets to draw the enemy out. Had there been any other way around them, James would have taken it. But they needed to continue north, needed to get to Saratoga if they were to aide General Burgoyne in his campaign to Albany.
A foolhardy mission on Burgoyne’s part.
In his hopes to trap the Continental Army in Albany, Burgoyne and his troops were now trapped. Yet, as bold and ill-executed as the general’s plan was, James couldn’t disobey a direct order. He would lead his men to Saratoga, but he’d be damned if he walked them right into an ambush. With his growing apprehension, that was precisely what it felt like.
“Thomas, take the men west and wait for my command,” James instructed. “We need to clear that crossing, but I want to be sure there aren’t any surprises awaiting us.”
It was unlikely that they had, but James couldn’t shake the feeling that they were in a vulnerable position, despite their rivals lying dead around them. No one knew of their progression north—they had only received the missive from General Clinton that morning to make their way to Saratoga.
Thomas frowned. “We cannot afford to have you walk into a trap, Sergeant.”
And James couldn’t afford to lose any more of his men. His fealty to the crown and his responsibility to his troops kept him fighting in this hopeless war with the Colonists. He’d already lost it all. Unlike many of his men, he had no wife, no family, to return home to. The moment he’d held his dying young brother in his arms, he’d given up the folly of ever having that life for himself.
All he had left now was his duty as sergeant to lead his sixty grenadier soldiers to victory in each and every battle.
“Let me ride in your place,” Thomas offered.
James shook his head. “With my steed, I will have better luck eluding our enemies if they have indeed plotted such an attack.” Only he and several of his men rode astride, including his second-in-command. The others marched afoot. If he was heading into a trap, James could trust the speed and dexterity of his mount to lead him to safety.
“Then let me ride with you.”
James shook his head again. “We risk exposure if there are more of us. I will ride ahead and signal you if the path is clear.”
“But Sergeant—”
“It is done, Corporal,” James said forcefully. “Now wait for my command.”
James didn’t wait for his acknowledgment. He veered his horse around and rode north, keeping off the main road. The soft glow of the crescent moon offered little light so he kept his pace slow, fixing his gaze on every shadow as his steed trudged through the dense forest.
The stillness in the air was unsettling, but he welcomed it. Silence didn’t mean there weren’t savages or Colonists lurking about, but they could handle a small group of assailants. It was walking into a well-trained, heavily armed militia that he wanted to avoid.
James stopped and surveyed his surroundings. If they remained on this trail, they could continue their journey through the night and shorten their trip to Saratoga by a day as was his goal.
As he started back to where his men waited, a whisper of noise darted pass his ear. James spun his head at the sound and it took him a millisecond to recognize the arrow lodged in the tree behind him.
“Bloody hell.”
No sooner was the curse past his lips that a sharp pain pierced through his thigh and into his horse’s side. The animal screeched and reared up. James tightened his hold on his reins as the horse shot forward into a full gallop. He gritted his teeth at the pain shooting through his leg but he fought to gain control of the horse. The animal, however, wouldn’t be tamed.
Charging through the forest in a mad dash, the large warhorse finally brought them to a clearing. James cursed again as he struggled to calm the wounded animal. He spotted the small army of Bluecoats and veered the horse left.
Right into a trap.
James instantly recognized the familiar crackling of the cannon, but it was too late. The deafening roar splintered through the quiet night as a burst of white light flashed before him. Immense heat followed, scorching his flesh, until there was nothing but darkness.
Chapter 1
Two weeks later…
“Siara, don’t get too close.”
Siaragowaeh ignored the old healer’s sharp words and knelt beside the sleeping man. She gently placed her hand over his brow. He was now cool to the touch. She fell back on her haunches in relief. The fever was finally leaving his large body.
“Siara!”
“Don’t worry, Etu,” she said in their native tongue, preferring their language to that of the English. Though she needed the practice, Etu barely spoke the foreign language and despite the sachem’s encouragement to adopt the English tongue in their everyday speech, few of those in their clan—the Bear clan—did. She turned to the older woman and offered her a reassuring smile. “See, he’s still asleep.”