The General’s Wife: An American Revolutionary Tale (24 page)

Clara shook with emotion, her face twisted with all the sorrow and anxiety that wrenched in Sam’s gut. The air lay thick with her impending sobs, but they did not come. She pulled her hand from his and wiped her eyes. “I should go,” she said quietly, standing. “You have something important to discuss.”

“As you wish,” was all Sam could think of to say. He watched her leave his room, still poised sullenly on the edge of his bed.

Pat sat down beside him. “She told you everything, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to tell me, right?”

“Yes.”

“What do we do now?”

Sam took a deep breath, regret shuddering his lungs. “I’ve done a horrible thing, Pat, and we’re going to think this through.”

* * * * *

Clara stopped briefly at the top of the stairs. She did not want to go to the women’s workroom just yet. She was far too flustered to be able to sit with her friends, to endure their questions of how she knew Paul. She needed time to calm down. Near the foot of the stairs was an alcove used by the women for storage of brooms, mops, rakes, and the like. Usually only the bottom half of its Dutch door was kept closed, making it perfect to hide behind if one squatted down, something, as a lady, she should really eschew. But she desperately needed a moment of privacy. She went inside and sat in the darkest corner, resting her back against the cool limestone wall.

Something sharp poked up into her petticoat. The letter. Ethan had given her Paul’s letter and she had not yet read it. With shaking hands, she pulled out the folded piece of paper, a page from one of Paul’s ledger books. Her lungs weighed heavy with impending sobs, her face hurt from the strain of sorrow as she slowly unfolded the page.

Her wedding ring fell from the folds.

“
My love
,” Paul began, “
if you are reading this letter, you will know of my fate, although I fear I am most likely dead
.”

She screwed her eyes as her heart clenched in despair. She drew in a bolstering breath and read on.

He loved her, he wrote, and knew that she loved him. He was grateful for their short time together, but realized their love was not meant to be.

We are far too different, Clara, and while a man and a woman may enrich each other’s life with such differences, eventually one can only sustain a relationship based on commonalities…

As far as the circumstance regarding your return to your husband, if it must come to pass, then believe me when I say that you can trust only one man in General Strathmore’s camp, Lieutenant Sebastian Hawkins. He is truly honest and incorruptible from what I can tell of my dealings with him, and he may be willing to safeguard you from the general’s wrath, which may mean transporting you home…

I know you are ensconced at Fort Revolution. I hope that those in charge of the fort will see your importance not in terms of revolutionary tactics. There is one man in particular, Captain Samuel Taylor, whom I consider my rightful heir in the throne of your heart. I am fairly certain Sam will fall madly in love with you the moment he sets eyes upon you, but I am quite biased in my views. However, if the two of you do not find yourselves attached in that regard, he will be a good ally for your endeavor to return home. He knows the law, he knows politics, he has connections, and you have the currency.

With all the love in my heart,

Paul

Clara rocked on her feet, silently freeing the tears of mourning and relief that had dammed in her eyes. Paul had just given her permission to offer her heart, her soul, her body to Captain Samuel Taylor.

Chapter Eighteen

“We’ve decided to wait a few days before responding to the general’s dispatch,” Sam explained later that night when Clara had joined him and the lieutenant in his room. “That suggests to the British we consider ourselves to have the upper hand, and it gives time for our scouts to make sure General Strathmore does not have rogue soldiers near the fort.”

The lieutenant turned to her, his demeanor particularly dour, not his usual jocular self. “Do you trust him, my lady?”

“Absolutely not.” She couldn’t go back to her husband, she just couldn’t. She looked down at her sewing while gathering her courage. “Captain,” she finally said. “If money were not a barrier, would there be any way for me to return home to England?”

Something akin to distress flitted across Sam’s face. “You mean could you purchase your way back home?”

“Yes.”

He sank back in his chair, stretched his legs out, and folded his hands on top of his head. “We don’t have any English officers in our debt. The best we could do would be to get you on an American or possibly a French ship. They would only take you to France or Spain. I don’t know how you would get to England from there. You’d be on your own.” His gaze bore into her with an uncomfortable intensity. “But, of course, there is the issue of the money.”

Clara flushed and glanced over at the lieutenant, then decided that modesty was irrelevant at that moment. “Before I left for my confinement, I sewed some of my jewelry into my stays in the event I was widowed and would have to purchase passage home. They are still there.”

Sam’s forehead furrowed in thought. “Are these jewels family heirlooms or items your husband presented to you as gifts?”

“Both.”

He leaned forward and placed his chin in a palm, drumming his fingers on his cheek. “Legally, there is no difference. As a married woman you can own virtually nothing. The difference is that the Strathmore jewels could be traced while he is here on American soil. We would have to find someone who would be willing to purchase the other items.”

It sounded long, drawn out, and not a certainty. “What about a divorce?” she asked.

Sam looked at her incredulously. “You want to try to obtain a divorce between two English subjects under the laws of New York colony in the middle of a revolution?”

Clara saw his point. “Quite right. I suppose that would be out of the question.”

The lieutenant yawned and stretched out of the wingback. “I’m going to bed. Let’s sleep on this and discuss it in the morning.” He bowed and slunk out of the room.

The lieutenant’s absence was palpable. She and Sam were alone for the first time since they had kissed that morning.

“He doesn’t know,” he said.

She turned to him and saw the longing in his eyes, her own heart a tangle of desire and fear. “Sam,” she said as she rose, placing her handwork on her chair, “I should just go to bed.”

“No,” he said quietly.

Clara hesitated, hoping he would read her quiescence as an invitation, wanting him to simply take her. He went to her, took her hands in his, and bent down to kiss her. She closed her eyes, giving herself up to the sensual delectation of his mouth, his kiss so soft, so gentle, not at all like the furious passion that morning.

He left to bolt the door, then returned to her side. He pulled her into his arms, and rested his forehead against hers. “Come to bed with me.”

* * * * *

“Yes, Sam.”

Her words shot straight to his groin.

Yet she did not move, perhaps uncertain, the depths of her naiveté in matters carnal apparent. It was simply charming.

“I want to see you, all of you,” he said. The nervousness of that morning was replaced by urgent need. He swiftly undid her bodice and slid it off, untied her two petticoats and pushed them to the floor, grabbed her cap and tossed it on the pile of clothes. His cock strained against his breeches at the sight of the shadow of her quim beneath her thin shift.

He lifted her at the waist amidst her surprised giggles, sat her on the edge of the bed and knelt before her. One by one he slipped off her shoes and unbuckled her garters, then drew his fingers down the backs of her pale thighs to pull down her stockings, eliciting the most appealing sigh when he tickled behind her knees.

He stood back to admire her, then disrobed with quick impatience, while she smiled and stared. When he finally stood before her, naked and erect, she gasped and blushed.

He climbed onto the bed and knelt behind her, smoothing his hands along her stomach, rounding over her breasts. “So, these are the infamous stays with the jewels,” he said as he worked the laces. He lifted the undergarment from her body, surprised by the weight. “You have been wearing this heavy thing all this time?”

“Yes,” she said meekly, positioning herself so he could remove her shift.

And then she was utterly nude, too. Oh, what a lovely sight to behold!

He wrapped his arms around her perfect form, pressing his chest against her back, his face at her neck, breathing her in. He cupped her breasts, each a perfect handful, and teased the delicate pink peaks with his thumbs. She arched against him, leaning her head onto his shoulder. His mouth took hers in a tantalizing upside-down exploration.

“Lie back,” he said, urging her to the pillow. “I want to taste you.”

He lay beside her, caressing the soft white flesh of her arms and belly as he took a nipple in his mouth. Clara’s moan was music to his ears. She wove her fingers through his hair, holding his head steady as he sucked. His fingers drew circles around her other nipple, already puckered and hard.

“You’re cold,” he said.

“It’s cold in here, Sam.”

He grabbed the quilt and threw it over them, then slid down her body warming her with his breath until he finally nestled his face between her legs. In the tented darkness he could only hear her wetness as he parted her slowly. He drew his tongue through her slick slit to play with her aroused nub before delving into her depths, her hungry orifice nipping at his invasion. He moved his attentions back to her clit, teasing and sucking, as she rocked her hips and moaned in encouragement.

But it wasn’t really a moan. Sam quieted his frenzy to concentrate on the sound she was making, a sound like low guttural breathing. A sound like a purring kitten.

He scrambled up to her face and opened a corner of their tent to let in the dim candlelight. “That sound. It’s not you sleeping, it’s you in ecstasy.”

Clara looked perplexed. “What sound, Sam?”

He mimicked her deep breathing as best he could.

She giggled.

“You’ve been watching me all this time, haven’t you?” He wasn’t sure if he should be mortified or aroused.

“Yes,” she said grinning uncontrollably. “And taking my own pleasure during your performance, captain.” She pecked his lips.

Sam groaned and rolled onto his back. “Damn. Pat was right. He said you were probably doing precisely that.”

“Of course, the virtuous captain could not fathom such a possibility,” she giggled as she climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, rubbing her wetness against his cock. He closed his eyes to indulge in her touch as she massaged his chest, threading her fingers through the hair. “Just as I had no idea two men could make love.”

Sam jumped up, throwing her off him. “Christ, Clara! You saw us?”

She righted herself onto her knees. “Sam,” she said softly, “it was beautiful.”

This simply could not be. “You can never tell anyone. Ever.”

She gaped, nonplussed. “I would never reveal your secret. Please, Sam, believe me. I have my own, remember.”

Indeed, she had murdered two British officers. Both crimes were capital offenses. Sam studied her, then drew her lips to his to seal their mutual pact of silence.

She smiled as they parted. “You know what I’ve been fantasizing about since I’ve been watching you?” she said seductively.

“Having me and Pat inside you at once?” he tantalized.

“What?” Clara’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Is that even possible?”

He kissed her open astonished mouth. “Yes, my love.”

Her astonishment turned into delight. “Well, I suppose I was thinking of a far more simple pleasure.” She slid down his body slowly, nibbling the skin of his chest, his stomach, his hips, until she reached the head of his cock. She pretended to bite that too, tormenting him only briefly with her teeth before taking him into her mouth. Inch by inch, she gently wet the skin of his shaft with her tongue, then surrounded his glans with her hot, moist lips. She took her time, lingering lusciously on the sensitive skin under his prepuce.

Whatever she wanted to call what it was she was doing, it most certainly was not a simple pleasure. Sam had to cover his face with the pillow to silence his blasphemies and groans of satisfaction. She was taking him—all of him—all the way inside her mouth to the back of her throat. After what seemed like an impossibly long time, she pulled him out and massaged the tip with her magical mouth and tongue, while her hands continued to pump his shaft. And then she proceeded to draw his length inside her once again. It was nothing like what Pat did to him, perhaps a little more like one of Paul’s girls, and yet it was something so exquisitely more. Sam reached for her, grabbing fistfuls of her hair and holding on to that one shred of reality as his senses were transported to an unworldly plane of pure ecstasy.

He had not frigged himself that day, and he couldn’t hold back. He tried to suspend the sensation but she was too good, too damn good. With a muffled cry he thrust up into her, cradling the back of her head, exploding inside her, groaning as her throat clenched him and she swallowed every drop of his ejaculate.

Sam was spent, but desire still coiled inside. He wanted to thank her, to please her, his reason protesting his body’s exhaustion. He would have to wait until morning to make love to Clara in the way he had wanted to ever since he saw her undressing by candlelight. He pulled her back up alongside him and kissed her, tasting himself on her tongue, sensing her excitement at what he might to do to her.

He wanted to take her on the same ride of absolute joy, wanted to watch her face as she reached her peak. He rolled her onto her back, glided his hand along her skin, past her belly, tangling in her curls before stroking her sex, swollen and unsatisfied. She caught her breath as he drew her wetness to the sensitive nub, pressing and massaging the slippery flesh. He touched his lips to her mouth, murmured an admonition to silence her building moans. He held his thumb on her clit and slid two fingers inside her yearning passage, the smooth, slick walls throbbing and pulsing at the intrusion. She clenched tightly around him, surprisingly strong. Now it was his turn to gasp in stunned amazement, to know how wonderful it would be when it was his cock inside her, pulling and pushing as her hot wet flesh gripped and released.