Rebellious Heart (17 page)

Every nerve in her body screamed at her to get away now. She suspected that Lieutenant Wolfe would devour her if he could.

She took a step back, needing to escape into the safety of the house, but Phoebe stopped her with a jab to her side. The sharpness in the slave’s eyes shouted an unspoken warning: What would Lieutenant Wolfe think if they turned and ran?

Surely he would think they were afraid of him and that they had something to hide.

If they stood their ground and faced him with unswerving determination, perhaps they would be able to divert him from Dotty’s presence, if indeed that’s why he was there.

She steeled herself. “Lieutenant Wolfe, what a surprise.”

He reined his horse, but not before he allowed the beast to step upon the carpet and leave muddy hoofprints along its edge.

Phoebe jerked the floor covering away from the horse.

The lieutenant glanced at Phoebe and then dismissed her as though she were nothing more than a discarded thread of yarn. Instead he forced a stiff smile to his lips. “Miss Smith.”

“What brings you west this morning, Lieutenant?” She willed her voice to hold steady. “Surely your search for illegal activities hasn’t taken you this far from the coast?”

“There’s more than one form of illegal activity that I’m investigating.”

So, he
was
searching for Dotty.

Her mind urged her to stay calm even though she could hardly breathe with the panic that was beginning to suffocate her. “As you well know, Lieutenant, I am a loyal subject of the king, as is the rest of my family. If we suspected any illegal activities in this part of Weymouth, we would notify you.”

The lieutenant narrowed his eyes and peered first at the parsonage and then at the barn.

Would he insist upon searching the premises?

Oh, God, help . . 
. The desperate plea echoed in the deep chambers of her heart.

She’d begun to believe she was justified in breaking the law to help Dotty, that there were times when one had to choose God’s greater edicts of kindness and love over the regulations of sinful men.

But what if she’d been wrong? What if she’d only brought danger to her entire family?

“Today, my assistant and I are hunting for a runaway indentured servant.” The lieutenant studied her face as if searching there would lead him to the one he sought.

“And what reason do you have to believe such a runaway would be in this area of Weymouth?”

“It appears you and your mother have gained quite the reputation in this community for your service to poor, helpless women.”

“Of course we have always thought it our God-given duty to help those less fortunate than ourselves.”

The lieutenant didn’t reply, except to smile.

“There’s never been anything illegal about our help.” She spoke rapidly, realizing how incriminating her words sounded.

But the lieutenant was already dismounting. “Sergeant Frazel, you may search the barn. And I’ll search the house.”

“Yes, sir.” The young assistant nodded and lowered himself to the ground.

Phoebe started toward the barn. This time, Susanna had to do the stopping, snagging Phoebe’s cloak and holding her in place.

The lieutenant repositioned his hat and then started toward the front steps of the parsonage.

Susanna couldn’t move. She knew she needed to do something—anything to prevent the sergeant from going into the barn. Even if Dotty had the chance to hide herself under the hay in the loft before the soldier stepped inside, anyone with a modicum of investigative skills would have no trouble seeing that the young woman was living there. The sergeant would stumble upon the old chamber pot she was using, locate leftover crumbs or mussed hay.

Susanna stared at the sergeant striding toward the barn. She wanted to race after him and block his way, distract him, at the very least shout out and give Dotty a chance to escape through the side door before he walked in.

She could feel Phoebe’s wiry body tense, ready to spring into action. But Susanna kept her grip upon the slave’s cloak, rendering her immovable.

Lieutenant Wolfe had already ascended the porch steps and was knocking.

Mother opened the front door, and her surprised greeting carried a hint of worry. Yet Susanna couldn’t focus on the exchange between her mother and Lieutenant Wolfe. The
only thing she could hear was the thud of her heartbeat as Sergeant Frazel entered the barn.

She cringed and waited for his shouts of discovery.

But the only other sound was the voice of her father at the doorway. “Lieutenant Wolfe, I must respectfully insist on knowing why you intend to search our house.”

“Reverend Smith, I have reason to believe you’re harboring a runaway.”

Mother’s gasp was followed by Father’s denial.

Susanna couldn’t tear her gaze from the half-open barn door.

“Pardon me, Lieutenant, but you must understand how completely shocking such an accusation is to me, considering I’m one of the most law-abiding members of this community. How could I do anything less than set a stellar example for my parishioners?”

Her father’s tone was much harder and louder than Susanna had ever heard it.

“Perhaps
you
are law-abiding, Reverend. But I have reason to suspect that other members of your family don’t share your principles.”

The lieutenant’s attention shifted to Susanna.

She lifted her chin. “You’re terribly mistaken, Lieutenant Wolfe. I most certainly share the same principles as my dear parents.”

“Then if you have nothing to hide, you won’t mind if I look through your house.”

“I must strenuously protest, Lieutenant,” Mother said. “We are in the midst of preparing for my daughter’s wedding, and we cannot have you and your soldier tramping through our house—”

Her father put a steadying hand on Mother’s arm, silencing
her. He puffed out his chest and straightened the silk cravat at his throat. “Lieutenant, just because we are colonials doesn’t mean we have relinquished the rights of English citizens. Since when can an officer search a house without first obtaining a writ of assistance?”

“When someone is obviously involved in criminal activities,” the lieutenant said, “then I see no need for a writ.”

“I assure you,” Mother spoke again, “we are not harboring a runaway in this house.”

“Mother’s right.” Susanna forced more courage to her words than she felt. “But since we have nothing to hide, I suggest we let the lieutenant search the house and see for himself. Perhaps he will take care not to disturb the hard work we’ve accomplished in preparation for the wedding.”

“Absolutely not.” Father spread his feet and blocked the doorway. Behind him in the hallway stood William and his tutor, obviously disturbed from their studies, which of course William had the good fortune of continuing in spite of all the work needing to be accomplished before the wedding. “If the lieutenant wants to search our home—or anything on our premises—then he needs to do so after obtaining the proper permission.”

The lieutenant gripped the hilt of his saber.

Would he pull his weapon and strike Father?

Susanna started toward the porch. She couldn’t let him hurt Father—not when she was the one who’d brought all this trouble upon them.

The barn door squeaked open and Sergeant Frazel stepped out. “No sign of her in the barn, Lieutenant.”

Susanna’s footsteps faltered. She stared at the young soldier. How could he have missed all the signs of Dotty’s presence?

Lieutenant Wolfe frowned at his assistant.

“Am I to understand you’ve already invaded my property without the writ?” Father asked. “Your behavior is quite out of line, Lieutenant. And I intend to make sure your authorities are aware of your blatant disregard for the rights of a freeholder.”

The lieutenant spun away and stomped down the steps. “My authorities won’t care in the slightest what you have to say.”

“Any luck in the house, sir?” the sergeant asked.

“Not today.” Lieutenant Wolfe walked through a patch of mud, and before Phoebe could move the carpet out of the way, he marched directly across it, smearing streaks of mud with each step.

Mother gave a sharp cry of protest.

Lieutenant Wolfe brushed past Susanna, close enough that the staleness of rum on his breath fanned against her cheek. “Just wait, Miss Smith. I know you’re guilty. I can see it in your face. I will catch you eventually. And then you’ll wish you’d never crossed me.”

She tried to keep her expression neutral and was relieved the lieutenant couldn’t see just how badly her legs were trembling.

He examined the yard one last time, not seeming to miss a single detail, then mounted his horse and kicked it savagely.

Sergeant Frazel moved at a much slower pace, apparently used to the antics of his commanding officer. As he climbed into the saddle of his horse, he glanced at Susanna.

There was a knowing light in his eyes that made her breath stick in her lungs.

What had he really seen in the barn? Did he suspect Dotty was there after all? And if so, why had he lied to his commander?

Once Sergeant Frazel was astride his horse, he nodded at her. He then turned to her father and mother and gave them an apologetic nod before he kicked his horse into a gallop and raced after the lieutenant.

It wasn’t until they were well out of sight that anyone moved or spoke.

Susanna collapsed to her knees—out of relief or fear, she didn’t know. All she knew was that Dotty was in terrible, life-threatening danger.

And now so was she.

The wedding feast was grander than any Susanna had ever seen before. She stood next to Mary, who couldn’t stop smiling, even after nearly every gentleman in attendance had come by to kiss the bride in the usual tradition—that is, every gentleman except Benjamin Ross.

Susanna searched the dining room for him again. But amidst the crowd of guests—the men with their powdered wigs and the women in their ribbons and rosettes—she couldn’t locate him.

Of course she’d seen him in the parlor earlier when Father had performed the wedding ceremony. Ben had stood in the back of the room, dressed in his finest like everyone else. In dark blue broadcloth and a white satin waistcoat, he’d been striking and difficult to miss.

From time to time during the Psalm reading and her father’s short lecture, she’d felt the intensity of his attention upon her, but anytime she’d chanced a glance at him, he’d been otherwise occupied.

She desperately needed to talk to him. After Lieutenant
Wolfe’s visit two days ago, she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen to Dotty. Susanna could only pray their charade had thrown him off the girl’s trail.

She hadn’t admitted the truth to her parents, even though Tom had urged her again to tell them about Dotty, especially since Sergeant Frazel had almost caught sight of the runaway before Tom could finish burying her in the soiled hay behind the mare’s feedbox.

Phoebe had insisted the lieutenant wouldn’t dare attempt another search—not after both Father and Mother had made a point of speaking out so publicly against the unlawful search. And Susanna had decided she wouldn’t take any more action until she’d had the opportunity to confer with Ben.

If she could ever find a way to speak privately with him . . .

She fanned herself, the heat of the room and the tightness of her stays stifling her. The scents of smoked ham and roasted squabs stuffed with dressing and wrapped in bacon wafted across her face and would have tantalized her had not the worry been mounting inside her.

The dining room table had been pushed against one of the walls, allowing room for all the guests—the Quincys, Smiths, Mr. Cranch’s family, along with friends from the parish. The table, arranged with the glimmering freshly polished candelabras, was also laden with apple dumplings, plum tarts, and spicy puddings that Phoebe had spent the week baking in the spare moments Mother hadn’t demanded her assistance with the cleaning.

Grandmother Eve’s servants mingled among the guests with trays of nuts, raisins, cakes, and punch. Even though Phoebe had worked nonstop all week, they had still required the extra help.

Mr. Cranch approached Mary and reached for her hand. “Mrs. Cranch,” he said with a dashing smile, “since we’ve fulfilled our obligation to kiss our guests, I’ve come now to claim a kiss from the one I most desire.”

Mary smiled in return and her eyes lit with an eagerness that made Susanna smile.

When Mr. Cranch bent his head toward Mary’s, Susanna found herself looking directly into the intense blue eyes of Ben, who stood behind Mr. Cranch.

He didn’t say anything to her. Instead he shifted to look at Mr. Cranch, who’d captured Mary in a shockingly passionate kiss. With his hand upon her neck, he’d tipped her head back, covered her mouth completely with his, and drank of her with a fervor that sent heat into Susanna’s middle.

She couldn’t keep from thinking about the fact that in a few short hours, Mr. Cranch would carry Mary upstairs to the bed they would share for their first night together as man and wife.

Warmth flooded Susanna’s face, and she tore her gaze away only to find it colliding with Ben’s. His lips curled up in a slow smile, almost as if he knew what she’d been thinking.

Susanna retrieved a cup of punch from the tray of a passing servant and lifted the cool sweet liquid, hiding behind the drink as best she could.

Ben slapped Mr. Cranch on the back, whispering loudly, “Save it for the bedchamber, my dear fellow. You’ll have plenty of time later to enjoy your wife.”

At that, Mary broke away, her flushed cheeks growing rosier.

Mr. Cranch gave a shaky laugh. “I don’t know if I can wait until later.”

Susanna choked on her punch and had to swallow quickly before she sputtered it all over her best azure silk gown.

The flecks in Ben’s eyes danced, and he squeezed Mr. Cranch’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to say for the time being you’ll have to satisfy yourself with a few stolen kisses.”

“Ah, Ben, my stuffy friend.” Mr. Cranch intertwined his fingers with Mary’s. “If you had the right woman, you’d know that a man in love can’t be satisfied with a few stolen kisses.”

Susanna flipped open her fan again and pumped it to cool her overheated face. The conversation was almost scandalous, even for a wedding.

Ben glanced at her again, and this time his eyes landed straight upon her lips. Something flared there. She had the distinct impression he was remembering the kiss they’d shared at Arnold Tavern. She hadn’t been able to forget about the moment of passion that had ignited between them when he’d dragged her down onto his lap and given her a kiss that had left her breathless.

“There’s always the closet under the stairway,” Ben said softly.

Mr. Cranch grinned.

Mary’s blush deepened.

“You weren’t supposed to say anything about our hiding spot,” Mr. Cranch said with a quick glance around. “But now that you mention it, I may have to sneak my wife away.”

Ben hadn’t moved his focus from Susanna’s lips. “I may have need of the closet this evening too.”

Embarrassed, Susanna looked away. Surely he couldn’t mean what she thought he did.

Did Ben want to kiss her again?

Mr. Cranch’s eyebrows shot up. And when he noticed Ben’s
attention directed at Susanna, his grin widened. “You old dog. I guess this means you’re conceding Hannah to Bela Lincoln?”

Ben shrugged and glanced across the crowded room. There, next to Grandmother Eve, stood Hannah arm in arm with Bela Lincoln.

Susanna had heard rumors that her cousin was entertaining the interest of the Hingham physician. But she hadn’t guessed Ben would give up his aspirations for Hannah—not without a fight. She’d assumed he would work even harder to gain Hannah’s affection now that he had competition.

She searched his face. Was he hurt that Hannah had easily discarded him?

“There you are, Susanna.” Before she could probe any further, Elbridge sidled next to her and took hold of her arm. “I’ve been looking for you, my dear cousin.”

“She’s not hard to miss,” Ben said wryly.

Elbridge glared at Ben. “I’m surprised you have the audacity to show your face here, Ross.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you. I mean, after losing the Pepperidge case last week in Boston.”

The muscles in Elbridge’s face flexed. “At least I’m not locking a murderer away in my minister’s house.”

“Joe Sewall has committed no crime,” Ben growled. “But then again, you wouldn’t know how to identify a murderer even if he tossed the evidence straight onto your desk.”

Susanna wanted to rise to Hermit Crab Joe’s defense, but she didn’t know what she could possibly say without divulging too much information about Dotty.

As if sensing her need to speak, Ben shot her a warning glance. Then he stepped back and dipped his head toward Mary. “Excuse me, Mrs. Cranch. I shall leave you to your lovesick husband.”

Susanna wanted to tell him not to desert her with Elbridge, that she’d much rather talk with him. She had, after all, read
The Odyssey
, and she’d been waiting for the chance to thank him and tell him how much she’d enjoyed the book.

He started to leave, but then surprised her when he leaned into her ear. “Meet me in the closet in one hour,” he whispered before turning and slipping through the crowd.

He must be planning to kiss her again. Why else would he want to meet her in the closet?

Her heart floundered with wild anticipation. If only she didn’t have to wait an entire hour.

Ben crossed his arms.

The slit in the door left enough light for him to see the tiny closet crammed with an assortment of wooden buckets, brooms, and crates. The scent of linseed and vinegar permeated the cubicle.

He wasn’t sure if Susanna would really meet him there. But he’d been anxious to talk with her ever since he’d heard that Lieutenant Wolfe had shown up at the parsonage. In fact, he’d been nearly sick with worry, and he needed to find out from her what had really happened.

They didn’t have much time left before the men and the women split into separate rooms so that the men could share a bottle of wine and tease Cranch endlessly about the coming wedding night.

If he hoped to discuss anything with Susanna without their absence being detected, it would have to be soon.

He tapped his foot.

Maybe she was too scared to meet him alone in the closet,
especially after the way he’d joked with Cranch about using it as a kissing spot.

At a light rap at the door, Ben straightened only to bump his head on the overhanging step above him.

The door opened a sliver and she peeked inside. “Ben?”

He reached for her arm, tugged her inside, and closed the door swiftly behind her.

Darkness enveloped them.

Her breath came in short spurts in the slight distance between them.

He didn’t release her, although he had the feeling he ought to put a good arm’s length between them at the outset of their conversation.

But she shifted and somehow in the process bumped against him. Tendrils of her hair tickled his cheek, and her breath hovered near his chin.

Even though he couldn’t see her at that moment, he knew she looked stunning. She was more beautiful than the bride. Indeed, she was more beautiful than any other woman there, with her dark enchanting eyes and with stylish curls dangling near her ear . . . tempting him.

Before he could stop himself, he skimmed her arm all the way to her neck, to the spot below her ear.

Her breathing turned ragged.

The warm bursts of air spread over his chin. Her mouth was close enough to claim with his—if he dared.

She shifted, and in the crowded closet her lips accidentally grazed his; at least, he didn’t believe her to be so bold as to initiate a kiss.

He hadn’t asked her to meet in the closet so that he could kiss her, but suddenly that was all he could think about.

She didn’t move away from him but hovered near, as if
giving him permission. For a long agonizing moment he let his lips linger against hers, barely touching. The fullness of her lips taunted him.

Even though every fiber in his body urged him to press closer, he knew he shouldn’t. She wasn’t his, and he had no right to pretend otherwise.

They were just friends. Wasn’t that what they’d agreed upon the last time they’d been together that night of the murder on the beach?

And if he ever wanted more than that, her mother would never allow it.

Mrs. Smith had made a point of ignoring him all evening as though he amounted to nothing more than one of the slaves, unworthy of her acknowledgment or attention.

The truth was, no matter how willing Susanna was to let him steal a kiss from her, he wasn’t good enough for Mrs. Smith and never would be.

He stifled a sigh and dropped his hand from her. “Susanna,” he whispered, dragging away from her, “as much as I would enjoy sharing a kiss or two with you, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Oh . . .” Her quick intake of breath was followed by a scrambling to put distance between them. “I beg your pardon. It’s just that I thought . . . you insinuated earlier—” A bucket toppled with a clatter.

So she’d come to him because she’d wanted to kiss him?

He couldn’t contain a grin and was glad for the darkness that hid it from her.

She’d wanted to kiss him.

The thought made his chest swell with the desire to draw her back into his arms and bestow upon her a kiss that would leave her wanting more.

The door rattled. Was she fumbling to find a way out of the closet?

“Don’t go.” He lunged for her. His fingers made contact with her arm and the fluffy ruffles of her sleeve.

She stopped, yet from the stiffness of her body, he could tell he’d embarrassed her.

“You weren’t mistaken,” he whispered hoarsely. “Every time I’m around you, I think about what it would be like to pull you into my arms and kiss you again.”

She didn’t say anything, but at least she didn’t move to leave the closet.

“You’re a beautiful and irresistible woman,” he said, not quite sure why he felt the need to put her at ease, except that suddenly he loathed the thought that he may have hurt her—even if unintentionally.

The rigidness of her stance began to melt.

“And as hard as you are to resist, I must do the best I can.” Even as he spoke, though, his fingers slid down to the bare span of her arm toward her wrist before letting go. “You and I both know there can never be anything between us.”

She didn’t deny him.

And suddenly he wished she would. Why did she have to let her mother dictate her future? And did she really need to put so much weight upon a man’s worldly estate?