Love Not a Rebel (51 page)

By the fifth of April they were upon the open seas, heading for home with a steady wind. Amanda and the twins had been given the captain’s cabin. She assumed that Eric had chosen to take the first mate’s berth and that the first mate was in with his fellow officers. She felt very well this trip and was eager to walk the decks. Unfortunately, the crew aboard the ship was composed of many of the same men who had discovered her last June with a sword in her hand. While none of them seemed to harbor her any ill will, Amanda still felt awkward around them. Eric was captaining his own ship and, once again, keeping his distance from her. She tried to remind herself that he did not trust her and that she had every right to despise him for his treatment. But again she could not forget that he had said he loved her, and she could not rid herself of the pain of the estrangement. She wondered about him by night. She lay awake and she wondered about his life, the life she had never known, the life of a soldier. She knew that women followed the armies, some for love and some for money, and she wondered how he had spent his time, if he had managed to forget her frequently in the arms of another. She hated the thoughts. They tormented her again and again.

It anguished her, too, that now, when things should be so very fine between them, he drew a greater distance from her daily. He might have claimed that he loved her, but any man who could so thoroughly ignore his wife must have some interest elsewhere. Determined to taunt him, she took to spending her time on deck. Jacques was her friend and would always listen to her, and Frederick, who had accompanied Eric, seemed quite adept with the
sea for a printer-turned-soldier. One evening she had managed to gather quite a group about her as she described some of the very outlandish fashions of the French and Italians at Versailles. Then someone started singing:

They were all laughing when Frederick suddenly sobered. Amanda looked past the group of men to see that her husband was standing before them, dark and towering and very silent. In the night his eyes were ebony and condemning and she was glad of it, for she was ready for a fight.

“My love, I hear whimpering from the cabin. Shouldn’t you be about the babes?”

“But they sleep, my love, I am quite certain,” she returned.

“I say that I have heard crying, and I ask, milady, that you see to it,” he said harshly, his eyes narrowing.

The air, the night, seemed charged. This time it seemed that all these men who so loved and admired her husband were on her side. Amanda came to her feet, smiling sweetly. “Please, please, gentlemen, do forgive my husband’s horrid lack of manners. I quite often do myself.”

With that she swept by Eric, hoping that traces of perfume would haunt his clothing where the silk of her own touched him. She even hoped that she had soured his temper, but he did not follow her. In dismay she realized that the next days followed as the first had done. They were halfway across the ocean, and still, except for an occasional meal with Frederick and Jacques and others in attendance, he did not speak with her all.

The twins were her delight. The sea air seemed to do wonders for them, and when the days were warm, Amanda brought them to the deck. The crew, hardy hands one and all, acted like fools before the babes, clucking, making faces, vying for attention. Amanda, holding Lenore,
laughed at one mate’s antics and looked up, searching for Eric. She discovered him not far away, his eyes upon her, pensive and dark. She flushed. He did not look away. “Isn’t she clever, Eric? I could swear that Lenore smiles already, and it has nothing to do with bubbles in the belly!”

He smiled at last. “Aye, my love. She is clever indeed. Like her mother.”

Amanda did not know what the comment meant, and so she turned away.

Soon they were approaching Virginia. Eric often ordered her curtly belowdecks then, for he was wary of British schooners. Frederick told her that they had battled and seized two British warships on their trip to France. “His lordship hoped to catch on to that Lord Tarryton or Sterling, but alas …” His voice trailed away as he remembered that Nigel Sterling was her father. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but they did invade Cameron Hall—”

“There is no pardon necessary, Frederick. Two ships! You battled two ships?”

“Aye, lost only three of our crew, one wounded, two dead, and sent them packing down to Charleston with skeleton crews in place. Lord Cameron promised General Washington that he would take a ship or two, he did, that’s how he gained the time to come to France. And he won’t be wanting to have any run-ins with the Brits now, not with you and the little lad and lass aboard!”

Amanda thanked him for the information. She knew that they would make Virginia by the next night. That evening when the twins slept she left them in Danielle’s care and went atop the deck, seeking out Eric. She saw him at the rail, staring out at the sea and the stars and the night, a tall, rugged silhouette against the velvet patina. Inhaling sharply, she touched her hair, stiffened her spine, and walked softly toward him. She had not quite reached him when he spun around, his hand reaching for his sword. He relaxed when he saw her, and she realized that he was ever ready for a fight now that the war had become a part of his living.

“What is it, Amanda? You should be below. The night is cool, and we are in dangerous waters.”

“Virginia is not so dangerous. You have said so yourself—that is why you are allowing me to return.”

“Tell me what you want, and get below.”

“For one, my lord, I am not one of your servants to be ordered about!”

His lip curled with a trace of amusement. “You are my wife, and still suspected by many to be a traitor, and therefore your position is more precarious than that of any of my servants.”

“Then perhaps, Lord Cameron, I will not care to live in your abode!”

“What?”

She shrugged extravagantly. “Sterling Hall still stands, I do believe. I can take my children and go home.”

“The devil you will, madame—”

“Lord Cameron!”

Eric’s words were interrupted as the lookout shouted down from the crow’s nest. “Lord Cameron! Warship off to the left, sir! She’s flying England’s colors.”

“Be damned!” Eric swore, spinning around. “Frederick, the glass! Gunners, to your stations. Can you see her up there, mate? How many guns is she carrying?”

“Six portside, milord!”

“I can take her,” Eric muttered. “I don’t dare run, she’ll follow us home.” He spun around, suddenly aware of his wife again. “Get to the cabin, Amanda.”

“Eric—”

“For the love of God, will you go? Our children are there!”

She started to speak again, but then closed her mouth and turned quickly. She had barely scampered into the cabin when the roar of a cannon was heard.

“Take Jamie, please!” Amanda said to Danielle. Lenore was already awake and whimpering. Amanda swept her daughter into her arms. Seconds later the ship shivered and trembled.

“We’ve been hit!” Danielle called.

Amanda hurried to the window, drawing back the small
velvet drapes. A ship was just coming along hard broadside. A cannon boomed again. Amanda gasped. A direct shot had hit the ship that was almost upon them. The force of the explosion and fire sent her flying back. She landed hard, trying to protect Lenore as she fell on the floor.

There were screams and horrible shouts. The British ship was going down, but those crewmen who had survived the blast were coming aboard. Amanda closed her eyes against the clang of steel and the sound of musket shot. She huddled on the bed, holding Lenore tight. How long could it go on, the horrid, horrid war! How many times could Eric fight—and himself survive?

Eventually the sound of battle began to die down. Amanda walked toward the cabin door, trying to hear. There was nothing. She hurried back to Danielle, thrusting Lenore into her arms along with Jamie. “I’ll be back.”

“Amanda, you come back in here! You were surely told—”

“Danielle, shush, please!”

It didn’t matter, Amanda was already out the door. She paused, choking as powder filled her lungs. As she hurried along the deck, she stepped over the bodies of fallen men, redcoats and patriots alike. She rushed on, suddenly horribly frightened. There was so much silence!

When she came around to the helm, she heard the fighting again at last. It was down to one-to-one combat, the British navy men highly visible in their colors. She looked frantically about for Eric. He was engaged with a young sergeant. Suddenly another man came up behind him. Eric swung around in time to avoid the blow to his back, but the second opponent had caught his sword, and the silver rapier went flying down to his feet.

Amanda screamed, then raced forward. “Amanda!” She heard the roar of his voice as he stepped toward her, grasping the helm rail, staring down the steps to her. He didn’t seem to care that he could be skewered at any moment, his concern was for her.

She caught his bloodied sword up in her hands and raced toward him. He clutched it from her hands, his eyes meeting hers. Then he thrust her behind him and set to
dueling his opponents once again. He seemed to move on clouds, agile and able, always a superior swordsman. And always he kept her behind him, until he leapt forward suddenly, catching the sergeant with a quick thrust, then slicing the second man as he rebounded from the first. With a groan the second man slumped to the ground.

Eric looked from the men to her. He touched her cheek, wondering. “I told you to go to the cabin.”

“I did go to the cabin.”

He smiled. “Madame, you were supposed to stay within it.”

“I might have saved your life.”

“Indeed, my lady, perhaps you did.”

“Lord Cameron!” Frederick called, limping over to them. “The English ship is sinking, and there are live men afloat out there.”

Eric’s eyes remained upon Amanda’s. He smiled. “We must pick them up. They go to the brig, Frederick, but by all means, we must pick up the living!”

Frederick turned to go about his task. “Will you go back to the cabin now?” Eric asked her.

She nodded, smiling, and turned around.

That night was so very different from that long-ago June day when she had been forced to accompany Robert Tarryton. Now she was heartily cheered by all of the ship. The maids and servants and craftspeople and artisans hurried down to greet the ship, eager for a glimpse of the Cameron heir. Eric held the twins up high, one in each arm, and accepted the congratulations of his servants, slaves, and dependents. A coach awaited them. Amanda returned to the house alone—Eric had the business of the British prisoners to deal with and more. Her heart caught as they approached the house, and then she seemed to grow warm, and tears burned her eyes. She loved the place so very much! She hoped that it would not be awkward there, that enough of the people knew her and loved her well enough to understand that she had not betrayed them.

“My lady!” Richard, too excited to be staid, came running down the steps, eager to snatch away one of the
twins. “Two! Two! Why, we’d no idea. Of course, we’d no idea at all until Lord Cameron sent word. I do declare, milady, but the lad looks like his father did! Just alike. And with a mat of hair upon his head too! But then, who knows, we cannot tell until the wee ones have grown a bit, eh, madame? But you must be weary, come, come along now!”

Amanda smiled, following Richard. When she entered the hallway she saw that Margaret was standing on the stairway, very still and very white. The servant lowered her head and hurried down the steps. “I’ll leave, milady. I needed me wages, so I waited here working, but I’ll leave—”

“Margaret, you needn’t leave. No one need leave. You thought that I had betrayed this hall—I can only swear to you that I did not. If you believe in me, you are welcome to stay.”

Margaret was crying. “Thank you. Thank you, milady. May I tell the same to Remy?”

Remy had actually spat at her. Amanda ground her teeth. How could she condemn the servant when her husband still did not believe in her?

“Yes,” she said softly. “Remy may stay.”

Before Margaret could start thanking her again, Amanda hurried on up the stairs. Richard came along, and Danielle with Lenore. Richard showed her to the nursery—the room that had once been hers had been cleverly converted with a basin and drawers suitable for the blankets and tiny garments of a babe, and a beautiful bassinet with mosquito netting draped about it. “There’s two, milady, you needn’t fret! There’s been twins before, there will be twins again, I daresay! We’ll have the second down in no time.”

“That’s fine. I shall take both babies in with me for a while,” Amanda assured Richard.

“Yes, milady. And may I say welcome home. We’ve missed you, we have!”

She smiled. “Yes, Richard, you may say so. Thank you.”

Amanda brought the twins in with her to nurse, and when they had become sated and slept, she called for Danielle.
By then both bassinets were ready. The two women set the babes to sleep for their first night in their own home.

When she returned to her own room, she discovered that Richard had sent her a steaming tub, with French soap and huge snowy towels and a silver tray filled with wine and plate of ham swimming in honey and raisin sauce with fresh green beans and summer squash. She smiled with gratitude, then she shivered slightly, remembering how like that last night things seemed.

Still, she sipped the wine and sank into the bath. There had been no such luxury over the nine weeks it had taken them to return. When she finished she stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in the towel, drying her hair before the fire. Then, with her towel swept around her, she sat at her dressing table and started to brush out her hair.

And it was then that he entered the room. In his boots, breeches, and open-necked shirt, he stepped into the room and closed the door. Amanda turned slowly around to meet his gaze. He strode slowly across the room until he came to her. Then he lowered himself upon one knee before her and touched her shoulders. His hands moved slowly over and around her breasts, and the towel fell away. She caught her breath, wishing that she were not so eager for him. But firelight danced in his eyes, and in her own, and with a poignant ache she realized that it had been a year since he had touched her. She could not protest what she desired with all of her heart, and if things were not perfect between them, she was still his wife. And she was here once again, in the room they shared. No matter what his words, no matter how he fought her, she could see and feel the heat of the desire about him, and instinctively she knew that he had never wanted another woman as he wanted her.