Faithfully Yours (24 page)

“You minx! You like to tease me, don't you?”

“You know I do.”

“And
I
know a man wants this.” He swept her hair aside and ran his tongue along her ear.

“Sebastian …” She let her eyes close as she delighted in his hands curving up from her waist to her breasts. Slowly she raised her hands to cover his, pressing them tighter to her. The heat of his skin burned through her gown.

He traced a line of fire along her neck as he drew his hands out from under hers and began to loosen the hooks along the front of her gown. He drew it aside and pulled her away from the door, so that her dress dropped behind her. Turning her away from him, he undid the corset she had worn beneath the gown. Slowly he slid the shoulders of her chemise along her arms as his lips traced a sweet path along her back.

She moaned his name. She wanted to touch him, too. When he shoved her shift down over her legs, he spun her to face him in a single motion. Her shift fell on the floor, forgotten, as she gasped against his mouth when the soft hair along his arm caressed her.

He scooped her up into his arms again and carried her to the bed. Leaning her back onto it, he pulled off his coat and tossed it aside before lying beside her. His mouth was everywhere—on her lips, along her cheek, delving into the softness between her breasts, laving their very tips, tracing a line along her stomach. She could only cling to him, wanting him. No—she wanted more. She wanted to touch him, all of him.

She ran her fingers up the strong muscles of his back as she tugged his waistcoat and shirt off together. He gave her no chance to admire the firm lines of his chest before he leaned over her. She moaned as his warm skin touched her in a thousand ways. Bringing his mouth back to hers, she reached for the buttons on his breeches.

He laughed as he batted her fingers away and finished undressing her. He ran his hands along her from her breasts and down her legs to her toes, slow and then faster, as if he wanted to savor every inch of her. She gasped as he sucked one of her toes into his mouth and teased it with his tongue. When she reached to draw him back to her, he let his fingers glide up the inside of her leg and then between them.

“Tell me where,” he whispered.

“What—?” Then, when his finger brushed the most sensitive spot she knew what he meant. “Where!” she gasped.

“Now tell me when.”

“When what?”

“When you want me to stop.” His tongue curved along her breast as he touched her with short, furtive motions that sent waves of sensation over her.

She gripped his elbow as he leaned over her, her gaze held by his until she could see nothing but the hunger in his eyes. How could she tell him anything when she was lost in this incredible abandon? Her body arched as she gave herself to the pleasure.

She opened her eyes as she heard her own panting. The bed shifted. “Sebastian?”

He kicked aside his breeches and stretched out beside her. “You have not said when,” he murmured as he brushed her lips with his.

“And I shan't.”

“I had hoped you would say that.” As he knelt over her, she could only stare at him. The strong lines of his chest and the powerful length of him urged her fingers to caress him. He did not give her a chance to explore further before he drew her legs up around him and brought them together.

His mouth pressed against hers, hot and demanding. She matched his frantic pace, and her body surged against his in ecstasy. It was all she wanted, and more precious because, even in the midst of the bliss, she knew how soon she could be mourning the loss of this man she loved.

Seventeen

Sebastian sat up in bed. He was not sure what had dragged him out of a deep sleep. His own guilt? When he had asked Faith to marry him, she had suspected that he had an ulterior reason, but he had never explained.

Or could it be that his body, denied for so many nights the rapture of Faith's, refused to be sated, always wanting more of her touch, which grew less tentative each time they made love? He looked down into her face. It was soft with sleep. He had seen no sign that she might have had her own reasons for this marriage, reasons that had nothing to do with the heart.

Fool
! He could hear his father's scold as clearly as if the earl stood in this room. For once, he had to agree with his father. Only a fool would look for a reason to question this wondrous woman who now shared his name.

His smile returned as his gaze moved along the slender line of her legs amid the tangled blankets. Yearning swept through him as he longed for those legs to be entwined once more with his as he tasted her delicious fire.

He groaned as he realized that what he wanted was even more impossible in the wake of the information Colonel Hepburn had shared with him this evening. Although most of the rebel troops were gathered with Washington north of here, there still were ambushes throughout the area. His colonel had given him this one night to spend with Faith. Then, by tomorrow, with Rooke ending his life in a noose, Sebastian and his men were needed to snuff out these rebels like candles left untended too long.

Weeks ago, he could not have imagined hesitating to take such an assignment, which was sure to bring prestige and honors. Weeks ago, even if he had considered the idea that he might have a wife, he would have laughed at anyone who suggested he would want to remain with her rather than take this opportunity to prove to his father that his heir was worthy of the title.

No longer.

He had met enough of the rebels to learn that they were people of good conscience who believed they had no choice but to declare these colonies an independent state. Did Faith have any idea of the conversations he had listened to at roadside taverns where he sat, dressed in simple garb and drawing no attention to himself? He might not agree with these people, but he had to respect that, for most, the decision to side with the rebels had not been easily made.

But far more important than any questions of politics and which side was more worthy in this war, he wanted to linger here while he savored the sweet surrender of his senses to the splendor of his wife's touch. His name might protect her, or it might endanger her more than he could guess, but her touch intoxicated him like the finest brandy.

He gently brushed her lips. She did not waken, but smiled at his touch. Aching for her arms around him, he whispered, “Forgive me, sweet one, for the sorrow I must bring you.”

She murmured something in her sleep. He dared to believe that he heard his own name, but that he was in her dreams offered small comfort when he had to step out of their bed. Drawing on his breeches, he went to where a single candle burned on the deep sill of one of the windows overlooking the road leading to the house. He drew a sheaf of papers from his coat and opened them. Rereading did not change anything. His orders were simple and would take him far from Goshen for the rest of the winter.

A rustle behind Sebastian warned that he had not been as surreptitious as he had believed. Rolling the pages closed again, he set them on the table. He heard Faith pull on her wrapper and come to where he sat by the window.

Caressing his bare shoulder, she whispered, “What is wrong?” She bent and kissed his nape. “I thought you would wake me up with a kiss instead of with the sound of papers being undone.”

He looked up at her, sure he had never seen anyone more beautiful than this redheaded woman who gazed at him with love. Her wrapper was closed with only a single button above the sash at her waist, and the curves of her body that thrilled him were visible, as shadows against the fabric. She cupped his cheek and smiled.

With a groan of the desire that was roused by even a single touch, he pulled her down onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned her back against his chest. He knew he should say something, but he did not want to end this moment when only the hushed song of the wind creeping past the window broke the silence.

“What is wrong?” she repeated.

“Nothing I want to talk about now, sweet one, when you are in my arms.”

“You are thinking of Rooke, aren't you?”

“Do not speak of him now. Not here.”

“Yes, now and here! I thought you trusted me.”

In an eye-blurring motion, he turned her to face him. “Do you trust
me?
”

“More than I ever thought I could.”

“That is not a yes, Faith.”

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his chin. “Can't we have this one night when the war is banished from our hearts and minds?”

“I wish I could say yes.”

Coming to her feet, she reached for his hands. “Then say yes and forget everything but that you and I are here together.”

He stood and discovered that her mouth waited only a breath away. “How can I argue with both you and my heart, sweet one?”

His hands were beneath her wrapper and upon her soft skin before she could answer. Her breath raced against his mouth as he claimed her lips. Edging her back toward the bed, he wondered if he could wait the few steps to get there or if he must make love to her here in the middle of the floor.

Fists pounded on the door.

“Go away,” he shouted, then captured her mouth again.

The pounding got louder.

Faith turned her head from his hungry kisses. “Sebastian, it must be important.”

“Nothing is more important than you, sweet one.” He groaned as he reached for the sole button that was closed on her wrapper.

“Major! I must speak with you, Major!” came the call from beyond the door.

Sebastian's curse rang through her head as he released her reluctantly. While he strode to the door, fury straightening his lips, she buttoned the front of her wrapper and made sure the sash was closed.

“Why are you interrupting me on my wedding night?” Sebastian asked as he opened the door.

Faith stared at the man, who clearly wished he could be anywhere but here. He was not one of Sebastian's men, and she did not recognize him from the guests at the wedding. Who was he?

“Sergeant Lindsey, sir,” the man said as if she had asked the question aloud. “I have come from the prison where the spy was being held. He is gone.”

“Gone?” Sebastian repeated. “Impossible!”

Lindsey shook his head. “The cell is empty.”

“But his guards—”

“Asleep.”

“My brother was in charge tonight. He would not sleep on duty.”

Sergeant Lindsey shuffled his feet against the rug. “He is asleep, too, sir. All of them. We couldn't wake them.” He held out a bottle. “'Tis supposed to be no more than wine, sir, but there is powder in the bottom.”

Faith gripped the footboard of the bed as Sebastian took the bottle, glanced at it, and set it on the dresser by the door. The woman in the byre had told her not to worry about the other soldiers tonight. Had Gaylord been tricked into taking the wine with the sleeping powder to the jail, or had he taken it willingly? Maybe the woman's comrades had delivered it there. Whatever means had been used, the results had come to pass just as the rebels had hoped. The British soldiers had been senseless long enough for Tom Rooke to escape.

Sending the sergeant to get his horse, Sebastian threw open a cupboard door and reached for his uniform coat. Although Faith bit her lip, some small sound must have emerged because he walked toward her as he pulled on his coat. He put his hands on her shoulders and whispered, “I must go and halt this.”

“Let your men handle it.”

“I am their leader. We must find these rebels and retrieve our prisoner.” His jaw was taut with fury.

“No, Sebastian. If you chase the rebels through these hills they know so well, you could be killed.”

“I wish I could believe that the fear in your eyes is all for me.”

She closed her eyes. “I have told you that I love you, but you do not believe me.”

“Nay, I believe that you love me.” He cupped her chin and tipped her face back. “I also believe that you do not trust me. You believe, even now, that I will set upon your innocent neighbors like a beast upon its prey.”

Softly she said, “And I fear the ones who released Tom Rooke will be waiting in ambush for you.”

“I know a trick or two.” He brushed her hair back and kissed her gently. “Tricks I have kept in reserve for a time like this.”

“When you can become a hero?” She could not keep the bitterness from her voice.

“This has nothing to do with being a hero. I must do what I swore to do when I assumed my duties.”

“I know.” Arguing about this when he was riding off into the night was silly. “Please stay safe.”

“I intend to. I want to come back and be in your arms again, sweet one.”

This kiss was deep, but far too brief. When Sebastian released her and went out of the room, Faith blinked back tears. There should have been a way to keep him here, to keep him safe. Not even an attempted rescue of Tom Rooke would have been enough to wake him.

Turning, slowly, she looked at her bag on the chair. She opened it and took out the packet of powder. If she had put it in his wine, he would be sleeping now. He would be safe, but he would never have forgiven her for such perfidy. Nor could she have forgiven herself for tricking him. She loved the man he was—strong and handsome and honorable.

She tossed the packet onto the table. When it struck some rolled papers, she picked them up.
These
were Sebastian's orders—orders to execute Tom Rooke and orders that would determine where he and his men went next. If she knew what the British generals planned, she could … No, she would not spy against her husband. Her small part in helping the rebels had not been aimed at stopping the British army, but at stopping the suffering and dying.

A knock on the door froze Faith where she was standing. She dropped the papers on the chest at the foot of the bed, then tossed her clothes on top of them. Going to the door, she swung it open.