Forever My Love (Historical Romance) (19 page)

"I want to be with you," she replied with honesty. "I feel as if nothing can touch me when you hold me like this."

He raised his head and stared down at her. He could swear there were tears swimming in her blue eyes, but surely he was mistaken. "Be aware that I will not stop with a few kisses." His words hung like a warning. "I have wanted this from the moment I saw you this evening. Say you want it, too."

Royal found herself experiencing emotions she had never felt before. She touched his face and parted her lips. "I will take the essence of you inside me, so when you are gone, I will still have the feel of you with me."

A low groan issued from his lips, and he pulled her tightly against him. "Damn you, I may get burned by you, but I will have you all the same."

His mouth teased the lobe of her ear, tested her lips in a long, drugging kiss, and, when she was mindless, moved down her neck to settle on the tip of one swollen breast.

She arched closer to him, wondering why she felt his hot flesh
against hers. When had he removed her chemise? When had he discarded his own clothing? It didn't matter—nothing did, but the feelings that ran like hot lava in her veins.

Everywhere he touched brought new and exciting sensations to Royal. These unexplored desires were ruling her consciousness. She knew there was more to come, and she ached for it.

"Love me, Damon," she cried. "Love me."

"Yes," he murmured, burning to possess this woman, needing her to soothe the raw ache deep inside. "I will have all of you."

At that moment there was a heavy rap on the door, and Damon raised his head and muttered an oath. He waited and listened, but the knock came again.

"Colonel," came a loud voice from the other side of the door, "the troop is moving out in one hour."

Damon took a deep, steadying breath and looked at Royal regretfully. "It seems you are saved, mystery lady." He moved off the bed, pulled on his trousers, and slipped into his shirt.

Royal watched him move to the door and step outside to converse with his aide. She blinked her eyes, feeling somehow cheated. At the same time she was shocked by what had happened. She hurriedly pulled on her clothing, making a vow never again to drink strong spirits. Not bothering to tie her laces, she reached for her cape and fastened it about her neck.

When Damon returned she avoided his eyes in the pretense of slipping on her gloves. "Tonight was a mistake, Colonel. I am glad we were saved at the last moment."

He smiled wryly. "Do not expect me to share your sentiments. I think there will be many nights that I will lie awake and wonder about you." He shrugged. "Regretfully, I am in something of a hurry. I have made my carriage available to you. The driver will take you where you wish to go."

"Colonel, t-thank you."

He took her hand and pulled her against him. "The sun is not yet up, but will you not tell me your name?"

She hesitated. "We are destined to meet again, Colonel Routhland. Perhaps then you will learn all."

He was reluctant to let her go, fearing she would disappear forever. "When will I see you again?"

"Soon. I still need my favor, Colonel."

"You don't know where to find me."

"I will always find you," she said, turning to leave. "Good-bye, Colonel."

Damon reached out to stop her, but already she was gone. He did not know who she was, but she had touched him in some secret place in his heart tonight, and he knew he would never again be the same. He was sure if he closed his eyes, he would still be able to feel her silken skin.

She had said she would see him again, and he was counting on that.

***

Royal moved silently up the stairs of the Seaport Inn, hoping no one would see her returning at such a late hour. She would gather her belongings and wait until sunup, when she would instruct her driver to take her back to Savannah.

She sat at the window, watching the first golden streaks of sunlight play flirtatiously across the shimmering water. Unconsciously, as was her habit, she reached for her journal and began to write:

My Dearest Damon,

Tonight I realized that I have strong feelings for you....

Royal stared at the words she had written. The truth struck her like an arrow in the heart, and tears splashed down her cheeks and fell onto the page.

"Oh, Papa," she cried, "I now realize that through all these years, although I have addressed my journal to you, the words must have been meant for Damon Routhland all along."

Had she loved Damon even as a child? Yes, she had loved him even then. But he was unattainable to her—Damon, whose heart many women had tried to capture and failed.

She could never belong to him. He would hate her after he learned who she was and that her reason for seeking him out was to enlist his aid in freeing an enemy.

She could not think about that now. Preston's family trusted her to help him. And help him she would, at any cost to herself.

She thought of how boldly she had approached Damon and how wantonly she had set out to torture him. What could have possessed her to be so unmaidenly? She sobbed in agony, wondering how she would ever be able to face Damon again. She prayed he would never discover her true identity. What must he think of her behavior tonight? She had told herself that she had sought Damon out for Preston's sake. The truth was that she wanted to be with him—to have him hold her—to have him desire her.

She closed the journal and placed it at the bottom of her trunk. It belonged to her past. She was no longer a child who needed to write out her pain. She was a woman embarking on an uncertain future.

***

As Damon rode out of Charles Town to join his troop, his mind wandered back to the strange and stirring events of the night. Never had he met a more exciting woman—he had been totally under her spell.

She had wanted something from him, and he might have promised her anything if they had not been interrupted. He had to see her again—there was too much left unfinished between them.

19

Wonderful memories of her childhood came rushing in on Royal as she stood on the steps of her home. Here, the war had not intruded. The grass was clipped, the box hedges had been trimmed, and the green shutters had been recently painted. Apparently Alba and Tobias had not neglected the house and grounds.

She paused to breathe in the aroma of the fragrant flower garden and gazed up at her father's mulberry tree. Yes, everything was as it should be. Apparently only she had changed.

She could have opened the door and gone inside, but she did not wish to startle Alba and Tobias, so she rapped on the door and waited for an answer. When there was no response, she rapped again. Soon she was rewarded when the door swung open and Tobias stood there, looking at her curiously.

"Yes, ma'am, what can—" He stared at her long and hard, then a wide grin creased his face. "Miss Royal, is it you? Glory be, it is you!"

She extended her hand to him. "I'm grateful that you recognize me, Tobias. I would not have wanted to come home as a stranger."

He stepped back to allow her entrance. "I'd know you anywhere, Miss Royal. We didn't know you were coming, or we would have had the house made ready for you." His smile widened. "We have been waiting for this day."

Looking around the entry, Royal could see into the front sitting room, where the dust covers were still draped over the furniture. "Where's Alba?" she asked.

Tobias beamed down at her. "She's out in the kitchen, most likely preparing lunch. I'll just go call her. She's gonna be so delighted."

"Who have we here?" Alba herself asked, moving into the entryway. "I didn't know we had a visitor." She looked at Royal searchingly.

"Don't you recognize her, Alba?" Tobias asked, enjoying his wife's confusion.

Alba came closer and squinted at Royal. "My eyes aren't what they used to be."

"It's me, Royal."

Suddenly there was joy in Alba's expression. "Miss Royal... it can't be you!"

"I've come home, Alba."

"What a glorious day this is!" the housekeeper cried. "We've been waiting for you."

Royal clasped the woman's hand and looked around her. She was surrounded by dear and familiar things. "It's good to be home," she said.

Alba was reminded of her duties, and she moved to the stairs. But Tobias saw a new spring to her step and heard a happy lilt to her voice as she directed him to the door.

"Don't stand there, Tobias. Get Miss Royal's belongings. Now that the young mistress is home, we have work to do." She beamed at Royal. "You have the look of your beautiful mother about you. You must be famished after your voyage," she chattered. "Are you thirsty? Come upstairs, and I'll help get you settled. The rest of the house is closed, but I always kept your room in readiness— aired it every week, and put beeswax on the furniture twice a year." Royal untied her bonnet and allowed Alba to babble on, thinking how good it was to be home. As she followed the housekeeper upstairs, she could not help remembering that the last time she had come down these stairs she had been a child. Now she ascended them as a woman.

***

It was late in the evening when the messenger came from the British commander, Colonel Campbell.

I regret to inform you that His Grace, the fifteenth Duke of Chiswick, has died in a hunting accident. It is my belief that you should act in all haste to find Lord Preston, as he is now the Duke of Chiswick. I fear that if his captors are privy to this information, they may use it to their advantage. Again, I stand ready to help you in any way I can. My man is still at your disposal should you need a driver.

I remain your servant,

Colonel Archibald Campbell

Sadness lay heavy on Royal's heart as she moved to the open fireplace. It would not be wise for the letter to fall into the wrong hands, so she dropped it into the flames and watched it burn.

She had not known Preston's brother, Nathan, very well, but she grieved for Alissa and her mother's pain. Colonel Campbell was right; she had to proceed with all haste. More than ever, Preston's life might depend upon her actions.

***

Outside Charles Town, South Carolina

The encampment was coming to life in the early morning light. Guards had been posted every fifty paces, and they were alert to any movement that might announce the enemy.

Inside a tent, several men were bent over a map, studying the fine details.

"We may as well swallow our pride and admit that Georgia is under the British heel," one of the officers observed bitterly.

Damon nodded. "You are voicing what we all know to be true, Major Leaman. We can do no more than strike at the enemy and then withdraw to lick our wounds."

"If only Congress would send us a commander," Major Leaman complained. "General Washington can be of no assistance to us because he can't abandon the northern campaign and allow our sister states to fall to the British forces."

Damon drew a circle on the map. "It is becoming apparent to us all that England has brought her war to the South. We can do little without sea power. It is only to be hoped that the enemy has overestimated the loyalty they think they will find in the southern states."

The men exchanged glances and nodded in agreement. "It's hard to know who to trust these days," one of the officers admitted.

"Then it's best," Damon said, "to trust no one. These are hard times when one cannot always tell the loyalties of his closest neighbor. We have all seen this, so guard your tongues. Seek out your regiments and have them ready to move on a moment's notice."

The men murmured in accord and withdrew.

Damon moved to his cot and lay down, watching the wind make waves overhead in the heavy tent. Last night his troops had clashed with hostile forces, and they had been outgunned and outnumbered. As a result, they had sustained heavy losses. He was weary and heartsick, but he had to pull his troops together and be ready for another assault within the week.

He had not heard Major Leaman enter and looked up only when his friend cleared his throat.

A light of mischief danced in Leaman's eyes. "A rider delivered a message for you." He held the note to his nose and sniffed. "Smells like it's from a... lady."

Damon sat up and motioned him forward. He held his breath as he took the note, hoping it was from her—his mystery lady. "You may go, Major," he said, reminding his friend that he outranked him.

The major laughed, and Damon waited impatiently for him to withdraw. Only when the tent flap closed behind the man did Damon break the seal. The unsigned letter simply said:
             

              I will be calling on you at your quarters in Charles Town tonight at eight. Please do not disappoint me.

It was from her—he was sure of it.

He did not stop to question how she knew where to locate him—all that mattered was that she had. He had cursed his stupidity in allowing her to get away from him without ensuring that he could find her again. He had been to the inn where his driver had delivered her, but she had already gone, and no one knew where.

Damon had been unable to get her out of his mind—the sweet smell of her, the way she felt in his arms, the way her blue eyes had glowed as he stroked her satiny skin. Nothing mattered but that he see her tonight.

***

A heavy rain pelted against the window, and Damon paced the floor of his cottage, fearing she would not come because of the storm. Again he checked the clock and saw it was almost eight. Suppose she was only playing with him and had no intention of coming?

Damn her, he thought. She was making him behave like a schoolboy with his first love, and she hardly out of the schoolroom herself.

He moved to the window and pulled the curtain aside. The downpour had intensified, and now the wind peppered it against the window. No, he thought in agony, she would not come tonight.

***

In the pouring rain, Royal ran to the door of the cottage and beat against it, hoping Damon would be there. She had convinced herself that he would never want to see her again—not after her disgraceful behavior at their last meeting.

When the door opened, Damon took her arm and pulled her inside. "Come where it's warm," he ordered, leading her to the fireplace.

She turned to face him, wondering if he could hear her pounding heart. He seemed so aloof—his eyes were cold and unfeeling. Was he angry with her?

She was covered by her cloak and hood, and all Damon could see of her was the face that had haunted his dreams and tormented his waking moments. When she reached up to lower her hood, he caught her hand.

"Wait, is your hair powdered?"

She looked at him with a quizzical expression on her face. "No, of course not. I didn't think it would be wise since it's raining."

"Then allow me to guess your hair color. It is a mystery that has caused me no end of speculation in the past few days."

"All right."

He stepped closer and studied her face. "Your hair could be black, but I do not think so with your coloring."

"My hair is not black."

"I thought not. You could be a redhead, but again you do not have the coloring."

She shook her head.

Every move she made was naturally provocative and enticing. It was all he could do to keep from taking her in his arms and smothering her sensuous lips with kisses. "It seems to me that we are left with two choices, so I must reason this out. I have always been partial to blondes, but I will discount that in your case, for I cannot see you as a blonde."

She was amused. "Then what color hair do you see for me?"

"Brown. Yes, you are definitely a brunette. On the lighter side of brown, I would say."

She reached up to her hood, but again he stayed her hand. "This is my fantasy. Let me be the one to unveil your hair."

Slowly he pushed the hood aside, and her hair spilled down her back, catching the reflection of the fire. He could only stare at her. "Golden," he said in an awed voice. "I should have guessed you would be perfect in every way."

She gave him a shy smile. "I have never before been accused of being perfect, though I am pleased my hair finds favor with you." She pretended to pout. "But do I have many rivals with blond hair?"

He gently touched her golden curls, then let his fingers tangle in the silkiness. "I cannot imagine you having a rival anywhere in this world, or any other."

"You flatter me."

His eyelids fell to half mast. "Do I?"

"I am not accustomed to having men speak so boldly."

"Are you not? Your actions say otherwise, fair lady. You have led me to believe love is a game to you, a game you play very well."

"Actions are often deceiving, Colonel. But surely you do not need me to tell you that."

"After the other night, I am inclined to agree with you. At times you seem innocent, and at other times you appear well versed in how to please a man. I wonder which face is the true one?"

A pretty blush touched her cheeks, and Royal averted her eyes. "I beg you to forget my behavior on that night. I was unaccustomed to strong spirits, and I acted most unwisely. I can only ask you to forgive me."

He propped a booted foot on the iron gate of the fireplace. "There is nothing to forgive. I was rather charmed by you that night."

"Colonel... Damon, I want to drop all pretense and tell you the truth."

"So, I am to know who you are at last?"

"Yes, but you might be angry and ask me to leave when you know the truth."

His brows came together in a frown. "Am I about to learn that you are married?"

She looked into his eyes. "No, I am not married. You see, I need something that only you can give me."

His laughter was soft. "Perhaps you overestimate my prowess with women."

"Damon, I want no more pretense between us. Can you not hear me out?"

He touched her hair and trailed his hand across her cheek as excitement throbbed through his body. "Can we not talk later?" His lips touched her brow, then dipped down to test her trembling mouth. "I have thought of little else but you for days. You came unbidden to me in the daylight and disturbed my sleep at night." He smiled in anticipation. "For this you must pay the price."

Her heart was so filled with love for him that she could hardly speak. "If I allow this to continue, you will only hate me for it later," she warned.

His eyes softened. "Hate is the farthest emotion from my mind when I am near you like this. Don't you know that I have been in torment since I met you?" he asked gruffly. "Don't you know what you have done to me?"

It seemed so natural to lay her head against his shoulder. It was as if she belonged in his arms. A flood of tenderness swept through her, leaving her breathless. What harm would it do to draw on his strength for a moment longer, to feel as if nothing in this unsettled world could touch her?

His arms tightened about her and she sighed contentedly. Soon she would tell him who she was, but not just now.