Authors: Cynthia Wright
"It's my fault, too. But the truth is that I didn't know"—she blushed—"I didn't know exactly what could happen. I am what I seem, no more and no less, I may not remember my past, but some things I am sure of. I know I never drank brandy, or learned to play these games you spoke of earlier. And..." her voice grew soft and she dropped her eyes, "I've never completely understood what a man and woman do together."
Alec looked pained, but then his eyes began to twinkle and he turned a smile on her that melted her heart.
"I shouldn't say this, but I must. I can't imagine where you came from, but if you were in a convent it is fortunate that you ran away, for you certainly do not have the makings of a nun!"
Caro was sure she must be crimson. Alec only laughed, his white teeth flashing in the shadows.
"You know, you're especially lovely when you blush that way. And don't imagine that I think less of you; you're a remarkable young woman. I only wish the circumstances were different. As it is, I think it's probably best that we try to forget tonight ever happened. You have a wonderful future ahead of you in Philadelphia and I must not tarnish your perfection any more than I already have. You're certain to meet some nice young man who will never know about tonight."
Alec reached out to touch her cheek. Slowly he leaned forward and kissed her gently, tasting the sweetness of her lips. He drew back slightly then, raising one brow regretfully.
"I'll make you a vow, because only for you could I attempt to be so honorable." His voice mocked the seriousness of his words. "I'll do my damnedest to become a model of propriety until we reach Philadelphia and I deliver you into the protection of my mother. She'll keep you safe from scoundrels like me."
Disappointment involuntarily welled up in Caro. Alec moved away, the laughter dying out in his eyes as he leaned back and stared into the dwindling flames. After a few moments, he helped her up and took her into bed. Caro crawled inside her little alcove and Alec tucked the quilts around her. Turning shining eyes on him, she murmured:
"I just want to tell you—you haven't been a dolt at all. I've had a lovely time the past two days."
Amused, he replied drily, "That's very generous of you. However, you can aid my cause by tucking a fichu into the necklines of Elizabeth's dresses if they all—ah—enhance your charms as this one did. It was easier to resist you when you were dressed as a boy!" He grinned at her then, looking like a devil in the darkness.
"Alec!"
"Good night,
cherie."
* * *
It was a strange night, and Caro drifted in and out of sleep. Tossing and turning, she dreamed of people who had no faces, as the wind drove the rain relentlessly against the little house. At one point it began to hail and she sat up straight in bed, her heart pounding in terror. Peeping out of her alcove, she could see that the big bed was empty, its drapes still pulled back. Her feeling of isolation was unreasoning and frightening, and she climbed down the little ladder, knowing only that she had to be certain that Alec was there somewhere. Hailstones clattered against the windowpanes and the floor was cold against her bare feet as Caro crept across the dark room and pushed the door open to peer into the parlor. The fire there was much brighter and Alec was standing in front of it, dressed, smoking and staring into the flames. She watched him for a long time, and if he was aware of her presence he never gave a sign. Caro wondered what was in his mind, and was surprised at the strength of her desire to know him. She could sense, though, that it was his intention to keep himself closed off, revealing only a fraction of the whole. Once, during the intimacy they'd shared tonight, Caro remembered meeting his eyes and she was certain that they had been completely open, mirroring Alec's soul. Now, as she looked at him, tall and broad-shouldered and hard, she felt an unreasoning rush of warm contentment. Quietly, she crept back to her bed and fell instantly into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter 5
"Rouse yourself, Caro! If you believe that I will do all the work here while you lie abed, you are sadly mistaken!"
Her face was buried deep in her feather pillow and her body was drawn up into a ball beneath the quilts. Alec's voice barely impinged on her blissful slumber, but when he drew back the covers she came back to earth with a cry of protest. Irritably opening one eye, she could see him sideways, his turquoise eyes sparkling with amusement.
"M'lady, will you rise willingly, or must I carry you from that bed?"
Caro lifted the corner of her mouth to mutter darkly, "Beast," then turned her face from her pillow with a sigh. "Are you always in the habit of getting up in the middle of the night?"
"I'm afraid the darkness outside is misleading. Actually, it's nearly noon."
Caro's head came up with a jerk. "Noon! You must be joking!"
When she sat up, Alec could see the soft round outline of her breasts against her flannel gown and he thought how warm her skin would be after sleep. He suddenly turned away toward the door.
"On the contrary, I couldn't be more serious. Hurry and dress before your breakfast goes cold."
She stared after him in puzzlement as the door closed, then scrambled down the ladder to look outside. The wind had subsided, but the rain still fell steadily and the sky was a dark, steely gray behind the black clouds. Shivering, Caro washed hastily with the cold water from the pitcher on the bureau. She dressed in a heavy chocolate-colored gown, wrapping the fichu from her bundle around her shoulders and fastening it at her bodice with a gold pin from Elizabeth's drawer. Her shoes were dry now, thankfully, and she slipped them on over borrowed brown stockings. She was standing in front of the looking glass, brushing out her burnished curls, when the door opened and Alec appeared.
"Well," he commented, "I'm glad to see you are up and about. I wouldn't want to catch you in a compromising situation." There was laughter dancing in his eyes as he paused to rub his bearded jaw thoughtfully. "Still..."
Flushing, Caro pressed the back of her brush against his lips.
"Please—don't go on!"
She began to braid her hair, watching Alec move about the room as he shed a damp-looking shirt and replaced it with a fresh one that was white against his tanned face. His breeches skimmed his long, well-muscled thighs. He sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on his soft knee boots, then, coming up beside her at the looking glass, he raked lean fingers through his raven hair and fastened it at his neck.
She was wrestling with a thick braid down her back when Alec reached out to assist her. Wordlessly, Caro held a ribbon out to him when the braid was complete. His eyes met hers that were looking up at him so earnestly, and he felt a painful jolt of remorse for what he had robbed her of the night before.
Caro saw his eyes go opaque before he grasped her elbow, roughly propelling her around and out of the room. The parlor was warm, and a tantalizing blend of aromas filled the air. Plates and silver were on the table, along with a brightly painted toleware coffeepot sitting on a trivet. Caro couldn't believe her eyes when they fell on a plate of steaming biscuits.
"Are those really biscuits? Where did they come from?"
"Of course they're real. I baked them," he replied coolly.
"
You—?"
She turned incredulous eyes on him.
"My dear, you will discover that I have many talents."
Caro saw that his eyes were full of laughter, but she believed his claim when she tasted the biscuits. Spread with honey, they melted in her mouth like pure ambrosia. The coffee was rich and strong, and she soon felt fortified. Pouring herself a second cup, she relaxed a little in her chair, gazing around the room.
A huge, dead turkey lay next to the door.
"Where did
that
come from?"
Alec glanced at her over his coffee mug.
"I shot it. Did you imagine that it blew in with the rain?"
"
Shot
it! Today?"
"Of course today. We have to eat, don't we?"
Caro could see that Alec's patience was wearing thin, so she kept silent. After breakfast, she began to explore the rest of the house, starting with the children's small bedchamber. It was furnished with a trundle bed, neatly made up, and Caro felt her eyes prick with tears at the sight of a worn wooden top lying abandoned on the floor.
Behind the parlor was a loom room which Alec told her he had helped to build the year before.
"They refused to believe they'd have to go. They kept telling me if they became totally self-sufficient and stayed away from the neighbors, they'd be left alone."
Caro turned to the pots of dye. "Where did they get these?"
"Some of them I brought last spring, particularly the indigo for the blue, but most they made themselves. The orange comes from bittersweet, and the green is from pressed goldenrod blossoms. Elizabeth might have made the red from sumac. Onionskins are used for yellow; blueberries or poison ivy for purple. And—I believe the black comes from alder bark."
Back in the main room, Alec began to prepare the turkey for roasting while Caro cleaned up the breakfast dishes, then pulled a chair up to the small bookcase to investigate its contents. The books were well cared for and she found that she recognized most of the names printed on the bindings: Richardson, Steele, Boswell, Addison, Johnson, Marlowe, and Shakespeare. Pulling out a volume of Shakespeare's sonnets, she spied yellowed paper against the back of the bookcase. After lifting out several more books she could see that there were newspapers, carefully folded and obviously hidden for a reason. Caro put her head up and looked around at Alec, who was laboring over the turkey with his back to her.
"Alec?"
"Hmm?" He did not look up. "This is awful work to be doing indoors."
"Could you come over here for a moment?"
He straightened, wiping his hands on a towel, and joined her.
"What are you doing with all those books out? I certainly hope we won't be here that long!"
"I took them out to get a better look at those." She pointed to the newspapers still wedged against the back of the shelf, and Alec settled back on his heels to look inside. The top of his head was only a few inches from her face, and she stared at his shining black hair, fighting a strong impulse to touch it. Vaguely, she recalled having had her hands in that hair the night before, and her face grew hot. All of it seemed like a dream—she was uneasily aware that there was no lingering quality of a nightmare about it for her. Alec's voice startled her, bringing her back to earth with a jolt. He had pulled the newspapers from their hiding place and thumbed through them with a rueful smile.
"Believe me, these constitute no treasure or mystery. I suppose James hid them in case of a search—especially for Elizabeth's sake while she was here alone." He sauntered over to the hearth where he tossed the papers into the flames. "Those were copies of the pro-Tory
Royal Gazette.
James Rivington published it in New York during the war."
Caro went to stand beside him.
"Do you think Mr. Wallingham was foolish to remain loyal to the king?"
Alec propped an expensive boot against the hearth and leaned forward, looking into the fire.
"He was my friend, but I feel he was out of touch with reality when it came to King George... and other issues involved in the fight for independence. He saw his loyalty to the king in the same light as his fidelity to Elizabeth... or God. Actually, James should probably have never come to America in the first place." He pulled his eyes from the fire and looked at Caro, compassion and realism mingling in his gaze. "At least the Wallinghams lost nothing more valuable than their home. I have a feeling that in the long run they'll be happier in England."
"You don't think they'll be back?"
"Frankly, no."
Alec returned to the turkey and said nothing more for the next hour. However, after the bird was cleaned and plucked and on the spit over the fire, he sought Caro out in the bedchamber where she was mending a torn shirt of his. She noticed that he had scrubbed his hands and forearms, and he was smiling. Watching him drop down beside her on the bed, Caro froze for a moment, wondering if he was about to kiss her.
His eyes gleamed recklessly, but then he lay back against the spread.