Part Nine
by Paula B and CJ
Late November 1776
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
The house of Reverend Alexander Nelson
Chegwidden and his men neared Nelson's house. They were prepared to rescue Tess Coulter and the wounded taken in the raid, thanks to the information from the blacksmith. It hadn't taken them long after Reverend Turner told them where to find the hostages. Albert surveyed the scene carefully. «But things look so quiet. Can they really be here?»
Albert heard the scream. «That sounds like Cordelia. Why on earth would she be here?» He led Ryan around behind the house. Rabb and Rivers took the front entrance. They crept through the hall and entered a warming kitchen, a room with a large fireplace where food was kept warm after it was brought in from the cookhouse. The separate kitchen decreased the possibility of a fire in the main house, but it required that the household take on more servants. «Reverend Nelson seems well off.» Albert motioned for Ryan to watch the back door as he moved out the room and into the hall. He heard a man's voice and followed the sound. Something about the voice was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. He nodded to Ryan, who followed him into the hall and stepped up to the closed door. The oddly familiar voice cried out and Albert nodded. Ryan burst open the door and Albert lunged through into the room. He found Cordelia tied to a chair, her dress ripped to expose her body, and suddenly felt a rage stirring inside him.
The man cried out again, "The bitch. She bit me." He obviously expected someone else coming through that door.
«We'll need to move fast.» Albert wrapped his arm around the man's neck and twisted. "Leave my wife alone," he hissed in a threatening voice. When he heard the man's spine snap, Albert let him drop to the floor and rushed to Cordelia's side.
As Albert cut the bonds, Cordelia whispered, "He wore a ring with the Liberty Tree. I thought he was the third man I could trust. But he killed Braxton. He killed his own brother. "
«Daniel Wallace. Last I heard he was still in England. No wonder his voice sounded familiar, he sounds like Braxton.» Albert removed his coat and slipped it over Cordelia's shoulders, covering her. "We need to hurry. He seemed to expect someone. We want to be gone by the time they arrive."
Cordelia slid off the chair and knelt beside the body of her brother-in-law. She touched his hand briefly, removing the ring, then nodded, "Let's go, then." She stood, following closely behind Albert as he led the way out of the room. Ryan brought up the rear. They moved toward the front of the house, listening carefully for any indication of other inhabitants. As they passed the staircase, they heard a low moan from the upper level. Albert glanced upwards, then nodded to Ryan.
"Step exactly where I step," Albert barely breathed the words. Cordelia nodded. The three crept up the stairs silently.
The noise came from the room near the end of the hall.
"I tell you, I will tell you nothing, Mr. Webb. Hit me if you want. I heard what you did to Mikey. He’s just a boy," a voice cried from one of the rooms.
"Hit you! How could you say such a thing, damn you?" The voice of the man sounded truly shocked, but Chegwidden didn’t have time to listen more closely. He needed to get them all out of the house before they were discovered. He had heard the front door slam and Rivers and Rabb running toward the church.
Once again, Albert and Ryan broke through the door. Albert seized the man, wrapping his arm around the Tory's neck. The man raised his hands and tried to pull Albert's arm away. Ryan saw the prisoner, and recognizing Mac, rushed to his side. "Albert, stop!" Cordelia cried. Everyone in the room stared at her. Cordelia stepped closer to the man in Albert's grip. In the firelight his face was a ruddy red and a lock of hair had worked its way free and fell over his forehead. "That ring. How did you come by it?" she asked.
Webb managed to move the giant’s arm from around his neck until it rested firmly on his chest. Coughing a few times he studied the woman before him. He spared a glance at Mac who was rubbing her wrists. Returning to the woman before he answered with as much composure as he could. "It was made by a blacksmith here in Philadelphia."
"Mr. Roberts gave it to you?" Cordelia whispered. "Just as he gave this one to my husband?" Cordelia held up the chain with Braxton's ring.
"Cordelia Wallace," Webb heaved a sigh. "I am sorry about your husband. We will discover who killed him, and when we do, I will return the favor." At this statement, Albert cautiously released Webb .
"The man who killed my husband is already dead. It was his brother, Daniel," Cordelia said, looking over Webb's shoulder at Albert.
Ryan looked from Albert to Cordelia, "What is she talking about? Her husband isn't dead, Albert. You're right here, and pretty healthy, it seems to me."
"Cordelia's husband was Braxton Wallace, my original contact. When he was killed, Cordelia continued with his plans. The only way for them to work, with her as my contact, was for her to pretend to be married to me. You must tell no one. As far as anyone outside this room is concerned, she is my wife. Do you understand?" Albert spoke quietly, but his glare left no doubt about the force of his words.
"Yes, sir," Ryan stammered, eyeing Cordelia suspiciously, then staring at Chegwidden with a grin.
"None of that, Ryan. She has already lost her husband and her child to this war and she has merely done what is necessary to continue her husband's fight," Albert chastised his friend. "Do you think so little of me to assume that I would take advantage of a friend's widow? Nothing untoward has happened."
Cordelia ignored both men, focusing on Webb. "Do you have any idea how Daniel Wallace came by one of these rings?" Cordelia asked, holding up the smaller version of the ring that Wallace had worn on his little finger.
Webb reached for the ring, "May I see it?" Cordelia dropped it into his hand and Webb turned it over. He read the inscription inside the band, "Live free or die. July 4, 1776." He paused. "This belongs to my mother. I had one made for her after the war began. I knew that I needed to continue my work and I thought if anything happened, someone might recognize the symbol. I wanted her to be safe. Wallace must have found it. She was playing with it at a party the other night. It must have slipped off Mother's finger in the cold." He sighed. "She must be more careful."
"Mr. Webb?" They turned at the worried voice and Chegwidden gasped in surprise. "I know you, don’t I son? Before I led my men west. You were with Colonel Thomas Boone. Roberts, isn’t it?"
"Aye, Colonel," the boy nodded.
"You know this man?"
"Yes, sir. Though until he told me a little while ago I thought he was just another Tory. But he has one of my brother’s rings. He showed me, sir."
Chegwidden put his hands on his hips. "Your brother? You are the brother of Roberts the Blacksmith?"
"Yes, sir, Colonel, sir," Mikey stammered. "I-I-wanted to do something, not just stay in Philadelphia and, and, and…"
"And playing the dandy?" Webb supplied dryly. Before he could continue though, his head snapped back and his hand went to his cheek where she had slapped him.
A very angry Sarah MacKenzie hissed out, "How dare you! You told him but you didn’t tell me. You questioned me for how long, you horrid…"
"I questioned you for perhaps five minutes, Sarah." Webb glared back.
"Sarah!" Three very startled men shouted. Before any of them could question it further though they heard angry shouts and a muffled blast from outside.
Rabb and Ryan crept through the empty church. Ryan whispered, "The servants must know something is happening. There should be someone here or from the house to stop us."
"Don’t know nothin’ about that. Don’t have any servants out where I live. Everyone does for himself and his neighbors," Rabb whispered back as he gawked at the plush furnishings.
"That’s the way it should be, son." Rivers answered. . Suddenly, an anguished, but muffled cry could be heard..
"Who’s that?" Ryan whispered.
"Can’t tell, but she’s hurt. Come on." Rabb came upon a door and just as he was about to reach for it, it opened and they saw the back of a tall blond-haired man.
"Reverend Nelson isn’t going to like it if you hurt the witch before he has a chance to talk to her," Lindsay cried. He slammed the door and turned just in time for a huge fist to slam into his face. Ryan shook out his hand while Rabb caught the man and pulled him over to a chair. Dropping him down he hurried back to the door.
"Roberts said they had arrested Tess as a witch. Someone is down there hurting her. Come on."
Before Ryan could caution stealth, Rabb ripped open the door and ran down the step.
"Damn fool boy," Ryan spat as he followed. As he reached the bottom step he was pushed aside. He was taken aback to see a woman fleeing and wondered for a moment if this was Tess Coulter but decided probably not. However, she was just a woman and no doubt, little danger to him. So instead of stopping her he turned to the scene below him. Rabb had taken out one man – a body was sprawled on the floor. Another was cringing in a corner. Another was holding his own, and had landed several blows. Ryan caught the light reflected off steel and shouted. "Rabb, knife!"
Rabb didn’t even bother to acknowledge the warning. He just sidestepped and landed a roundhouse punch on his assailant, knocking him out but sending him off balance and to the floor. Ryan reached for the man with the knife but he squirmed away and tried to make the steps. A boot caught him in the chin sending him falling backwards. The sickening crunch and the odd angle at which the man’s head rested told the tale. Ryan looked up and saw a man dressed in a fine black vest and pants come down the stairs and study the body. "It was too quick a death, Daniel Walden. But your mother will no doubt mourn your loss."
"Who the devil are you?" Ryan demanded.
"Clayton Webb." The man walked past him and helped Rabb to his feet. -Ryan looked back at the sound of heavy boots on the cellar stairs and was relieved to see the Colonel coming down. Together they watched the two men walk over to the woman chained to the wall.
"Oh Tess," Rabb cried out. Her face showed several bruises rising. Her dress was torn and her breasts were almost exposed. Webb pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her.
Tess jerked away from Webb never taking her eyes off of Rabb. She bore Webb’s touch as he released the cuffs. She ignored his apologies and let Rabb pick her up in his arms and carry her out of the cellar.
"What just happened here?" Ryan asked.
"Long story, Mr. Ryan." Chegwidden sighed and looked toward the stairs. "Come on Webb. We better get out of here before Nelson shows up with reinforcements."
Webb sighed and walked up stairs with them. Mac stood with Cordelia Wallace. Rabb was sitting on the sofa holding the sobbing Coulter. He took one long look at Sarah before turning to Chegwidden. "You better hit me. It will preserve my cover."
Chegwidden looked from Webb to Mac. «A woman! Damn me!» "We can’t chance it. Turner said you needed to get home. There are messages for you that have to be dealt with. Perhaps they will think you fled with your lover."
"Lover?" Webb shuddered. They had seen the fleeing form of Sydney Walden as she escaped through the front door of the church. "They will say what they will say. But, if I have to get back then I will. What of you?"
"We have to get back to the inn. We cannot be seen together. You will have to take Mac and Miss Coulter though," Albert added.
"No!" Rabb cried. Tess seemed to huddle in his grasp. "I can’t leave her, Colonel."
Webb sighed again, but refused to look at Sarah. "I’ll need help anyway. We can take the wagon. How will you get Cordelia back to the inn?"
"You leave…my wife…to me, Mr. Webb," Albert stepped beside Cordelia and put his arm protectively around her shoulders.
"Of course, sir." Webb walked to Braxton Wallace’s widow and took her hand. Leaning forward he kissed her cheek. "Chegwidden is a good an honorable man, madam." Turning to Mac he pointed to the back of the house. "Ma’am."
"Sir?" Rabb looked like he was in shock. "What’s he talkin’ about, Colonel? That’s Mac! What’s he doin’ callin’ him ma’am?"
"I’ll explain it to him, sir," Tess sighed. She struggled out of Rabb’s embrace. She hurt and she was angry, very angry. And, unfortunately, by the way everyone was acting around Webb, it looked like she didn’t have a target for her rage. She glared at the spy, whose coat protected her modesty. "Where are we going?"
Webb looked from Mac to Rabb to Coulter. "The only place I can think of, Tess."
Webb wasn’t surprised to see his mother and Bobbi waiting for them. Word spread quickly even in the rural areas of Philadelphia. He just wondered what story would finally reach Allison and her father. He found he really didn’t care.
"Clay, dearest," his mother began until she saw Tess Coulter cradled in Rabb’s arms. "Oh dear. Bobbi!"
"Yes, Mrs. Webb. I’ll take care of Miss Tess myself. Here. You, boy, carry her upstairs." Bobbi ordered the surprised looking Rabb out of the wagon.
Webb jumped down from the driver’s seat and offered Sarah his hand but she slapped it away and jumped to the ground herself. Of course, her leg buckled under her and she cried out in pain. There was little she could do to keep Webb from picking her up and carrying her into the mansion. "Clayton, whose wagon is this?"
"I have no idea, Mother," He called back as he pushed his hip against the door.
"Put me down," Mac whispered.
"Why? Because you want to crawl up the stairs?" he snapped back as he started up the staircase.
"Please. I can do it myself." She couldn’t tell him what being held by him was doing to her. She tried to struggle be she nearly sent them both crashing backwards. After he righted himself, muttered something she couldn’t understand and put his foot on the next tread she finally just let him do it.
"Singer," Porter called.
"Yes, Miz Webb," the girl answered quickly.
"Kindly fetch clean water, lots of it. Have John help you." Porter was brief with her orders. «Simple works best with this poor girl.»
"Yes, Miz Webb." The girl fled out the back shouting for the groom to come and fetch water for Mrs. Webb.
Porter Webb shook her head but followed her son as he carried the most remarkable looking young woman up the winding staircase.
Clay deposited Mac on the bed in one of the guestrooms and stepped back. "Some one will be up to help you."
"I can help myself, Mr. Clayton Webb." She huffed. "Gingerly she stood and put weight on her leg. "See. I’m perfectly capable."
"Of course you are, my dear." Porter Webb stepped into the room and studied the young woman dressed like a man – a very dirty man to boot, in her eyes. "Clayton."
"Yes, mother?" Webb said meekly.
"Go hurry Singer along and send young Toby into town to ask Reverend Turner if he could come out. I understand he has some doctoring experience. I don’t think we can trust Doctor Whitman in this instance." When she finished speaking, Porter turned her attention to Mac.
"Really, ma’am. I don’t need a doctor." Mac insisted.
"I wasn’t calling him for you, dear. Tess will need some care, I’m sure." Porter gently corrected her.
"Oh. Tess." Mac hobbled toward the door but Porter took her by the arm.
"Stay here, dear." She gazed at her son. "Clayton?"
"I’m going, mother. But I will go myself. I need to return Mr. Roberts’ horse and pick up Dobbin. I will get word to Reverend Turner myself." Webb called as he ran down the steps.
Mac’s lower lip trembled and Porter hid her smile. "They are all quite exasperating, my dear. But I’m sure you will feel much better once we get you out of those filthy clothes and into something clean." She paused. "You do wear dresses don’t you my dear?"
"Haven’t in a long time ma’am. But I used to."
"Excellent. Ah, there you are John. What an excellent idea to bring the tub." Porter directed the servant to a spot to sit the large tub.
"I told him to do it, Missus," Lauren panted as she carried up fresh towels and sheets. "Go on John, go fetch the water now. I put more on to boil, ma’am. Seein’ that Bobbi has better things to do." She sniffed with just a bit of disdain that anything could be more important than doing what her mistress wanted.
Porter hid her smile. She knew very well that Singer was putting on airs. But she also knew that Bobbi Latham could handle the girl. "Thank you Singer. Since John is bringing up the water, perhaps you could go and make trays for our guests."
"Yes ma’am," Singer huffed.
Porter ignored the girl’s mutterings of, "I have to do everything around here." Instead she gently closed the door and said to Mac. "Let me help you dear."
Down the hall, Bobbi was carefully dabbing the blood from Tess Coulter’s face. "Damnable men." She muttered.
"Actually, except for her son, Mrs. Walden was the one doing the hitting." Tess hissed at each new sting. Tess watched as Rabb watched her. He leaned against the wall of the bedroom, arms crossed, an angry yet bemused look on his face. "Really, I’m fine now that you got me out of there. Harmon?"
He shook himself as if he were waking up. "What? Sorry. I was trying to understand why Mac would do such a thing."
"Dress up like a man, or want to fight for the freedom of this country?" Tess shared a knowing smile with Bobbi.
"Both I guess. Why isn’t she back home raising her babies?"
"Mac has babies?" Tess gasped, both from the suggestion and Bobbi’s ministrations.
"Well I don’t know. But all women have babies don’t they?"
Tess snorted. "You have babies, Miss Bobbi?"
"No, Miss Tess. You?" Bobbi pulled back the covers of the bed and helped Tess in. Rabb huffed in annoyance.
"Oh, you know what I mean. You do know what I mean don’t you?" Rabb's look was so confused the housekeeper took pity on him.
"There now, Mister Harm, babies come when their times come. It jest ain’t her time yet. Ya needs a good man before that can happen." Bobbi was patient with him after all their teasing.
"I know where babies come from, Miss Bobbi. I just don’t understand why she would want to fight in the war that’s all." Rabb stammered.
"Why do you want to fight in the war, Mr. Harm?" Bobbi snuffed out the candle by the bed. "You hungry, Tess?"
"Not now, Bobbi. But thank you." She motioned for the other woman to come closer. "Thank good care of him for me. He’s a good man."
Bobbi smiled into the dim light. "If you says so Tess Coulter. Come on Mr. Rabb. Let’s find you a pitcher and bowl."
"What for?" Rabb looked from one woman to the other. Tess looked like she wanted to go to sleep. He really wanted to talk to her some more.
"I’ll explain. Tess needs her rest now. Come on now." Bobbie motioned toward the door.
"Yes, ma’am." Rabb sighed and followed the housekeeper out of the room.
Mac studied herself in the mirror. It had been months and months since she had seen one. After joining up with Chegwidden the only time she had caught her reflections was when she paused to wash up in the still waters of the lakes or wide rivers they crossed.
Porter Webb watched her for a moment wondering what it was like to don the clothes of a man and go out and actually do something important like fight in the war.
"He’s a spy isn’t he?" Mac whispered.
"Yes dear. I am too, to some little effect," Porter confessed.
"You are!" Mac turned and studied the woman before her. Her own mother had died in an Indian attack when Mac was only six. She really didn’t remember her mother’s face anymore. "That is very brave of you."
"Brave, dear? Why? All I do is sit with people and listen to what they tell me and then tell Clayton. Clayton is the brave one. He must go through enemy lines. He must hide his true feelings from the very people he’s trying to protect." She turned away to keep Mac from seeing the tears form in her eyes. "Ah, John." She opened the door at the rap and ushered the groom in. He poured to large buckets of water into the wooden hip tub. "Thank you. Go and see if Bobbi needs anything now" Porter murmured.
"Yes ma’am." John picked up the pails and stepped out of Singer’s way. Singer set a tray on the dresser. "Bobbi says that Miss Tess is sleepin,’ Miz Webb. And that the man will bath downstairs in the warmin' kitchen."
"That’s fine, Lauren. Thank you." The girl beamed at her mistress and hurried down the steps. She wanted a look at this frontiersman.
"Now that your privacy is insured, dear, let’s get these filthy things off of you." Mac blushed a bright red, but let Mrs. Webb help her out of her clothes.
"Oooohhhhh." Mac sighed as she sank into the small tub. She couldn’t stretch out but the water came up to her breasts and she could cup the water to her face.
"John will bring another bucket and a ladle. We’ll get that hair of yours washed. I can’t believe you cut it off. It’s such pretty hair," Porter smiled.
"Oh I had too. ‘Sides it is very easy to take care of." Mac insisted, not admitting how much it had hurt to cut her tresses. Or, how much she hated never having really clean hair.
As if reading her mind, Porter asked softly, "However did you manage, my dear? How did you manage to keep it a secret?"
Mac told her of having to hide when nature called and how embarrassed she had been the first few times that the men around her didn't bother to. She covered herself at the knock at the door but Porter took the bucket from the groom listened to something he said and then closed the door. "Here, let's get this hair really clean now."
Later, after eating a wonderful warm beef stew, wrapped in the warmest nightgown she had ever worn, Mac snuggled into the soft thick feather mattress and promptly fell asleep. Her dreams were jumbled, but the one thing that always seemed to be there were cool hazel eyes staring into hers. She saw into his very soul and knew what that look was. She woke with a start to find the object of her dreams standing in the doorway of the bedroom. Dawn was long past and the cold hard grey of day backdropped the frost covered window panes. "Wha?" she groaned as she ran her fingers through her hair.
Webb stood in awe at the sight of her in the bed. He knew he shouldn’t be here. The excuse he used to open the door was lamer than his ten-year-old hunting dog. He cleared his throat several times. "Ah…it’s very late in the morning…ah…Sarah."
"Ten past eleven actually." Mac sighed, looking around.
He checked his pocket watch and looked around the room. "How do you know that?"
She shrugged and returned his look.
"I uhm…I wanted to let you know that the plans have been changed,"
Webb stammered.
"What plans?" Mac was hungry and thirsty. Throwing off the covers, she put her feet to the rug at the side of the bed. However, when she stepped onto the wooden floor between the rug and the dresser where the tray from last night sat, she shuddered at the cold.
"Here. Sit back down. I’ll bring you want you want." Webb entered the room fully, calling over his shoulder. "Singer!"
From below, they heard a put upon yell. "What, Mr. Clay?"
"Bring up fresh coffee and breakfast for Miss Sarah."
"Who?"
"Just bring it, Singer." Webb shut the door. "Go on. I’ll build up the fire. Singer should have done it hours ago. It’s freezing in here."
Mac sat back and watched him. Gone was the stern looking man questioning her, asking her questions that she had no way of knowing the answers too, suddenly knowing that’s why he had asked those questions. She tried hard to fight the feelings of tenderness that were creeping in on her. He had been very harsh with her yesterday. And he had looked at her with such disgust at Tess’s barn, when he had thought she was a boy. Now he was busy stoking up the fire, laying more wood onto the tiny blaze. "Why?"
"Why?" Webb repeated after her. He'd been lost in his own thoughts. Thoughts about the way she looked in the borrowed nightgown. Thoughts that came unbidden. He cursed those thoughts, cursed his very manhood for having them. «She hates me. Why wouldn't she hate me? A real man would have gotten her out of that house as soon as he could and not wait for reinforcements.»
"Why did you look at me like you did at Tess’s? Yesterday morning,"
Webb wobbled, nearly falling into the fire. «Damn. She caught that look. How do I explain that look.» "What look, Sarah?" He gulped and stood, wiping his palms on the knees of his pants.
When he turned he was surprised to see her standing just behind him. "It looked like you had tasted unripe persimmons. It looked like you despised me for something more than being a rebel. What was it for, Mr. Webb?"
She was so tall Webb barely had to move his head to see into those incredible almond eyes. He barely had to move at all really until his lips found hers. He fully expected her to jerk back and slap him. He surely didn’t expect her to hold his shoulders and deepen the kiss. As his arms wrapped around her, he prayed that Singer was as lazy this morning as she usually was. When the rap at the door did come, he almost didn’t hear it. The only sound he was aware of was the beating of his heart in time with Sarah's. He groaned as she gently pushed him away. "Come in."
"Good morning, Sarah. Clayton, darling when did you get back?" Porter smiled knowingly.
Webb walked up to his mother, kissed her on the cheek and growled softly. "You don’t know? How did I manage to sneak in past you?"
Porter waited patiently and he finally admitted. "I just returned mother. I bring news. But it can wait. And don’t worry, I won’t try and keep it from you." He nodded at Sarah. "I talk to you later, Miss MacKenzie. I need to wash up."
"You need to get some sleep, Clayton," his mother admonished. "General Washington isn’t going to rise up and smite the British before supper. Now get along."
Webb laughed. "Perhaps I will dearest, but prepare for company this afternoon. We shall have callers like this house has never seen before."
Mid December 1776
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
The Liberty Tree Inn
Albert Chegwidden lay in the bed watching the morning light creep into the room. «This is more difficult than I thought it would be. I barely know this woman, but I find myself drawn to her. When that bastard Daniel Wallace had her, I was as angry as if she were my wife. I should be ashamed of myself, with her a new widow. But her husband assured her that she could trust me. He found me honorable enough to place her in my safekeeping. I cannot betray that kind of trust. But I have never met a woman like her and I fear I shall never meet another.» Cordelia shifted in his arms and he breathed in her scent.
Of his men, only Ryan and Mac knew the truth. «Of course, Mac isn't really one of my men. How did she manage to fool us all for so long?» Albert shook his head. The movement caused Cordelia to stir again. She nestled against his body, rubbing her leg against him. Albert drew a long, deep breath. «I know it is wrong to feel this way. At first, it was simple desire, as for any beautiful woman. But now, now I want her because I care for her. I've fallen in love with her. What would she think if I told her? Need I ask? She'd think that I was not such an honorable man as her husband led her to believe. It's better this way, what could I give her? A hard life on the frontier is all I have to offer, and she is used to a Maryland farm and civilized country.»
Resting in his arms, Cordelia felt safe. More than that, she felt alive. She breathed slowly, as if she were still asleep. «My husband is barely dead and buried, how can I feel this way about a man I barely know?» She could feel the hardness of his desire against her leg, just as she had every morning when they awoke and sometimes at night as they climbed into bed. Some time during that first week, it had stopped embarrassing her. Some time since he had rescued her from her brother-in-law it had started to arouse her. «He called me his wife when he came through the door. And when he said it, at that moment, that's what I wanted to be. I wanted his passion. I wanted him. How can I feel this way about someone after knowing him for such a short time?» Cordelia could smell his salt sweat and his spicy maleness. She tilted her head back and moaned quietly as she rocked against him.
Albert heard her waking and knew that she'd move to the center of the bed. To his surprise, she stayed right in his arms and whispered, "Hold me, Albert. Hold me and let me pretend that the horror of this war is just a dream." He tightened his embrace. Cordelia swallowed and forced the words out, "I told you that first night that my soul was gone, that I was already dead. But I realized when you saved me from Daniel that I was still alive, that I wanted to live. I'm just not sure how. Everything I knew has changed. I wasn't scared before, but I am now." She shifted her head to gaze into his eyes. "Make me feel alive, Albert." Her voice was low, seductive. Then she kissed him.
When her lips met his, it shocked Albert. Her mouth was greedy, her lips soft and smooth, her tongue gentle and timid. Stunned, it took him a moment to respond, to realize that this wasn't one of his dreams. He kissed her, his tongue caressing and exploring as he began to fumble with the row of buttons along the back of her petticoat. He slid the bodice off her shoulders, turning to lay her on her back, then gently slipping the petticoat over her arms and pushing the layered garment down her body and over her hips, exposing her breasts. He reached for them, cupping them in his hands before he lowered his head to them, filling his mouth with her soft, creamy flesh. His tongue grazed over her nipple and he felt it harden against his lips. His fingers flickered over her other breast, tracing the aureole and teasing it to a taut peak.
Cordelia gasped as Albert touched her, sending sparks through her body. She kissed his head and ran her fingers over the smooth skin. He lifted his body over her, and she reached for his nightshirt, pulling it over his head to reveal his muscular body. She ran her hands over his shoulders and chest. She had known what to expect. After all, she had rested her head upon his torso every morning. She touched him, felt his warmth even in the cold room. Albert let her explore his body, her hands gliding over his stomach, tracing the patterns of his abdominal muscles before moving out over his hips and cupping his ass. He thought she might be embarrassed by his nakedness, but she simply brought one hand back over his hips, cupped and caressed his balls one at a time, then stroked his shaft. She had known what to expect there, too. She had brushed against his erection every morning, feeling the hardness against her leg. Even through the layers of her petticoat, there had been no mistaking his arousal. Now, as she held his length in her hand, she could not mistake her own need. "Make me feel alive, Albert," she whispered again.
His fingers fumbled with the tie that held her pantaloons, untangling the knot then skimming the linen over her legs. Albert reached for her dark curls, feeling the wetness of her desire as he explored her sex. His touches made her moan quietly. He probed her gently with one finger, rubbing her inner walls. He slid another finger inside and she wriggled against his hand as his thumb sought her clit and began to rub her tiny nub. Cordelia shuddered as his touch set her on fire and made the wintry room seem suddenly warm. She lifted her hips in a rocking motion and repeated once more, "Make me feel alive."
Albert moved between her legs and rubbed his penis against the slickness of her labia. He barely heard Cordelia's voice urging him on. «It has been so long since I felt the pleasure of a woman's body.» Cordelia wrapped her legs around him as his heavy cock slid inside, enveloped in her wet heat, filling her core. She moaned once again, her voice ringing in his ear as their bodies crashed together, each thrust of his shaft dragging against her swollen nub. Her body trembled against him. Albert knew his release was inevitable and tried to draw out, but she held him tightly with her legs, pulling him into her as he exploded in a mighty climax. Cordelia silenced his roar with her kisses, her body still shuddering in pleasure. Breathless, they lay together, side by side in the bed, Albert's arms wrapped around Cordelia protectively.
Already, Albert felt the guilt of betrayal. Beside him, Cordelia's only thought was: «How safe and warm I feel in his arms.»
They lay quietly for some time, Albert half expecting to wake up and find her still asleep beside him. Daylight brightened the room, even from the crevices of the curtains covering the windows. He closed his eyes and remembered meeting Braxton Wallace more than a year ago.
«It was one of the initial meetings of the Sons of Liberty. A man from Maryland stood and said, "If we want freedom, we must fight for it, and some of us will surely die for it. But even if we die, our children and our children's children will thrive in our legacy of liberty."
«The crowd nodded and agreed with him, but another man stood to confront him, "It is easy enough for you to say 'fight.' You have property and wealth. Fighting costs money, and for those of use with no means, it will be a short fight."
«"What is it you need? If it be weapons and ammunition, then I have the means to buy it, and buy it I will. For all of you, if need be." Indeed he had. First he purchased guns from the French and smuggled them in for the militias, then he turned to the Spanish, buying still more muskets. Braxton Wallace had been as good as his word.
«I admired Braxton. I was happy to learn that this was the man who would be my contact in the east. The times we spoke were few and brief, but never did I have any doubts about Braxton's bravery and loyalty. During the time I spent in the west, he sent couriers with supplies and occasionally important information gained from espionage.
«Even in death, he refused to let me down. And what have I done? I've betrayed him. I've fallen in love with his wife and lain with her here in this bed as if she were my own. Braxton Wallace entrusted his wife into my care. She came to me, pretending to be my wife because he told her it was the only way; she trusted me because he told her that I was an honorable man. If anyone learns of our deception, her reputation will be ruined. But what if, after this, she is with child? This world is hard enough for a woman alone, but a ruined woman has few choices. Would she even consider coming west with me? Would she want that rustic life? Could she leave everything she knows behind to live on the frontier?»
Albert sighed, then felt Cordelia's lips brush his eyelids. Her hand ran over his chest and she climbed onto him, rubbing against him and taking him inside. He drew a shuddering breath as her walls closed around him. «God help me.» A voice cried out inside his head. Albert's hands roved over her body; his eyes delighted as he touched the swell of her breasts, teasing her nipples into stiff peaks. She leaned forward, her body brushing against him. The warmth of her breasts pressed against his chest and her hot whisper caressed his ear.
"A heart beats in me after all," Cordelia spoke softly, her voice barely audible over the sound of Albert's ragged breath. She pulsed over him, her hands feeling the strength hidden in the sinews of his arms.
In a fluid movement, Albert rolled them both over and caught his weight in his hands. He held his body above Cordelia, afraid he might crush her as he thrust deeply. He felt her shudder, heard her moan as she lifted her hips to him, grinding against him in a frenzied passion. She wrapped her legs around him as he climaxed, groaning as he spilled into her. Breathlessly, she held him, using her muscles to press him farther inside, releasing him only when he wriggled in her embrace. «He is finished and wants no more of me.» The thought made her throat catch as she willed herself not to cry. «What must he think of me?»
It surprised Cordelia when Albert rested on his knees between her thighs and lowered his lips to her bosom. She felt her breast prickle with desire as he circled her aureole with his tongue, then gently brushed kisses against her nipple. With his hand, Albert teased her other breast, watching the pale pink flesh darken with desire as it stiffened under his touch. Cordelia trembled beneath him, moaning softly as he trailed kisses over her stomach. When Albert ran his hands gently over her thighs before parting the folds of her sex with his tongue, Cordelia shuddered and lifted her hips, reveling in the sensations as Albert swirled his tongue around her clit. She gasped as her body caught fire, every nerve alive and throbbing in ecstasy. Her back arched and Albert slipped one finger inside her, probing gently, tormenting her with his lips and hands. Wantonly, she endured each touch, her flesh burning with desire under every caress. She felt as if she might burst into flame and as she began to cry out, he silenced her with a kiss.
When her body ceased to quiver, Cordelia lay in Albert's arms, unable to speak. She nestled into the warmth of his body, tucking her head against his chest. She was afraid to look into his eyes.
Rabb knocked timidly on the door. «Never been in a house this big.» As he waited for the woman on the other side of the door to answer, he stared about the house in awe.
Finally, a muffled voice reached his ears. "Come in," Tess called weakly.
The door opened, and Rabb slipped through it. He smiled at the woman in the bed, hiding his shock. «I can barely recognize her, but I still believe she's beautiful.» Her face was covered with bruises. Her lips were cracked open and swollen. Even though Reverend Turner had cleaned her wounds the night before, Tess' lips were covered in blood that had oozed from her sores and dried in during the night.
Tess smiled, wincing at the pain that even this small effort caused. "Thank you," she mouthed. She wanted to say more, but her head throbbed with each miniscule effort. Her eyelids fluttered, but even wide open, her eyes were little more than slits from all the swelling.
"Don't talk, Miss Tess. I can tell it hurts," Rabb soothed her. "I am just glad we found you in time. You're a mighty brave woman," he paused. "And a pretty one, too."
"Not so pretty right now," Tess whispered hoarsely. The effort brought tears to her eyes.
Rabb nodded, "Oh, yes, Miss Tess. You are pretty. All the bruises in the world cain't hide your beauty."
«No one has ever spoken to me like that before.» Tess swallowed. «Such a man as this finds me beautiful? He must have his choice of women.» Weakly, she spoke again, "How can you find me beautiful? I can barely recognize myself."
"I thought you were beautiful the first time I saw you," Rabb said hesitantly. "I've never known a woman like you before. I saw you take care of Mac and those other soldiers." Rabb grinned, "It almost made me wish I'd been wounded, too." He reached for her hand, taking it gingerly, careful not to hurt her.
Tess struggled to speak again, "Lucky for me, you weren't."
"When I heard that the redcoats had taken you, I knew I had to find you. I was worried about Mac too. He…she's my friend and I've always watched his…her back." Rabb laughed sheepishly. "That's going to take some getting used to, Mac being a girl. But anyway," he continued, "But I was afraid what they might do to you. I'm so sorry that they hurt you."
"I'll heal," Tess whispered.
Rabb looked into her eyes. "I'll be here when you do. There are so many things I want to ask you, but I know you cain't answer me now. I'll be going out west with Colonel Chegwidden's men, but I'll be back, Miss Tess. When this war is over, I'll be back. Will you wait for me?"
Tess didn't speak. She couldn't. Tears welled in her eyes.
"Miss Tess, I didn't mean to make you cry! Really, I didn't!" Rabb's voice cracked with worry.
Porter Webb heard Rabb's outburst and stepped into the room. "Mr. Rabb, she needs rest. Come join us downstairs. When breakfast is ready, you can bring it up to Miss Coulter."
Rabb lowered his head sheepishly. "Yes, ma'am," he said as he walked slowly to the door. He twisted, looking over his shoulder at Tess, and whispered, "I'll be back, Miss Tess. As soon as breakfast is ready, I'll be back." Then he slipped quietly past Porter Webb, who smiled indulgently at the young man.