Forever My Love (Historical Romance) (27 page)

"Tell me more later. Right now I want you to find Miss Bradford and ask her to come to me. I will also want the two servants present.

***

Royal stood beside Alba while they watched Corporal Thomas packing Damon's valise. "What has happened, Damon?" she asked.

"Charles Town is under siege," he said, watching the reaction on each face. Tobias and Alba were shocked, and Royal's face whitened.

Royal grasped Alba's hand. "Surely not!"

"I fear so," Damon said grimly.

Corporal Thomas snapped Damon's valise shut. Reaching into his inside pocket, he extended a dispatch to Damon. "I almost forgot, sir. These are important documents that—"

"You know better than that, Corporal. Give them to me later."

Corporal Thomas appeared to be flustered as he looked from Royal to Tobias. "I apologize, sir. I just thought—"

"Never mind that," Damon said impatiently. "How did you get here?"

Corporal Thomas smiled. "It was easy, sir. I know the laundress who lives at the edge of town. She's kind of sweet on me," he said in all modesty. "She does laundry for the British and was easily persuaded to supply me with this garb."

Damon's lips twitched. "Do you think your... friend could be persuaded to supply me with clothing?"

"It would be no trouble at all, Colonel. I'll just slip on out and return as soon as possible." He nodded at Royal. "Ma'am, I hope you will forgive the abrupt way I invaded your house."

"I understand, Corporal," she said politely.

Corporal Thomas departed to do his colonel's bidding, while Royal and the two servants waited to see why Damon had summoned them.

"Surely you aren't thinking of going to Charles Town!" Royal blurted out. "You're not well enough to leave this room."

Damon glowered at Royal. "Never mind that. My only concern is that the three of you stay close to home. I don't know what will happen, and I don't want to have to worry about you." He turned his attention to the two servants. "Tobias, I'm depending on you to see that Miss Royal follows my instructions."

Alba and Tobias exchanged glances, both knowing that Miss Royal would do whatever came into her head.

"Alba," Damon continued, "I would appreciate it if you would pack some food. Tobias, I fear I will have to take one of your horses—please saddle it for me."

Both servants nodded and quickly left the room.

"Go ahead, kill yourself!" Royal cried once they were alone. "What do I care?"

Damon's gaze was probing, as if he were searching for something in her eyes. "Would you send a soldier into battle with only sharp barbs from your sweet lips?"

Her mouth went dry. "Surely you know how I feel about you."

"No," he said dully, "I do not." Now his eyes were mocking. "Suppose you tell me."

"Little I care what you do," she said, moving out the door. When she was in the hallway, she leaned her head against the wall, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

"I do care, Damon Routhland," she whispered. "I wish to God I didn't... but I do!"

***

After reading the dispatch, Damon eased himself off the bed and stood up, holding on to the bedpost. Pain moved like molten lava through his leg, making him close his eyes and grit his teeth.

"May I help you, sir?" Corporal Thomas asked with concern.

"Can't think about the pain," Damon said, taking a tentative step, then stopping to catch his breath. "Damn!" he ground out between a moan. "I must ignore the pain." He paused, then took another step and still another.

He made it to the fireplace and reached for the bottle of wine Tobias had procured for him. Opening the bottle, he drank deeply, caught his breath, and drank deeply again, hoping to dull the pain.

By the time he was dressed in the trappings of a British seaman, the pain had lessened. With a final look around the room that had been his prison for the last few weeks, he walked out the door and down the stairs while Corporal Thomas followed.

Royal waited for Damon at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes pleading as she looked into his face. "Don't do this, Damon. Give yourself a few more days to heal. Suppose the wound were to open again?"

He looked past her to where Colonel Thomas stood waiting for him. "I have a duty to my country." He gazed down at her. "Can you understand that?"

"Yes, but—"

"I want to thank you for your... hospitality. Don't think I am ungrateful."

As he moved past her, Royal saw how he limped, and it tore at her heart. "What good can come of doing your duty if it kills you?" she asked, but he did not even bother to answer her.

Damon shook hands with Tobias and smiled at Alba, who presented him with a canvas bag filled with food. With no further word to Royal, he moved out the door and, with considerable pain, managed to mount his horse.

His gaze rested on Royal, who stood on the top step, her eye swimming with tears. Perhaps he had been hard on her, and he didn't know why. "Don't worry about me, Royal."

Nudging his mount, he cantered away beside Corporal Thomas.

"All men are fools," Royal said, turning to Alba.

"Maybe, but if they are, what does that make the women who love them?"

27

The shallow trenches where defending soldiers stood knee deep in water gave little protection from the continuous cannon fire of the enemy's batteries.

The soldiers' faces were haggard, their eyes glazed with fatigue. The enemy was dug in no more than a few yards away, and as night fell both sides sniped at shadows.

Since Damon had the advantage of knowing Charles Town well, he had no difficulty slipping past enemy lines.

The sunlight had just caught the top of the trees when Damon slipped into General Lincoln's tent. The general was bent over a document, the scratching of his feather pen the only sound that could be heard. He looked up when Damon entered, and with a grim set to his lips, he motioned Damon forward.

"I wasn't certain you would be well enough to join us. Now I wish you hadn't, Damon. All is lost."

Damon eased himself down on a camp stool and stretched his aching leg out in front of him. "That has become obvious to me, sir. Without help from General Washington, you cannot possibly hold out. The British have us cut off from land and sea."

"Yet you managed to slip through."

Damon studied his friend grimly. "I am familiar with the area."

"Can you slip out again?"

"Yes, sir, but I would prefer to stay and fight."

"There are plenty of men who are willing to fight, but few I trust to carry this message to Washington at Morristown in New Jersey. Warn him that General Clinton will be returning to New York as soon as"—he paused as if he could not go on—"as soon as I surrender. His plans are to leave General Cornwallis in charge. Make him understand the urgency of bringing his war to the South."

Damon rubbed his aching leg unconsciously. "I passed several houses and shops that were on fire."

"Yes," General Lincoln said wearily, "and the civilians are begging me to surrender." He made a hopeless gesture. "With all escape routes closed off, what choice have I?"

"None, sir," Damon admitted brokenly. "Perhaps one man, maybe two, could slip through the enemy lines, but certainly not our whole damn army."

General Lincoln rolled up the dispatch and handed it to Damon. "Make haste, Colonel Routhland. Take my horse since it's fresh and don't stop until you are clear of Charles Town."

Damon was weary from riding for two days and nights. His leg ached and throbbed, and he could not recall the last time he had eaten. Still, he stood without wavering before his commander. What General Lincoln faced in the next few days would be difficult indeed. It could not be easy for a commanding officer to ask his men to admit defeat.

"You can depend on me, sir. I'll see that General Washington receives your message."

General Lincoln noted the circles under Damon's eyes and the paleness of his face. "Are you sure you're well enough for this, Damon? I know you've been laid up for several weeks."

"I'll make it, General."

At that moment the earth trembled from cannon fire, and Lincoln grabbed the lantern to keep it from falling. "You'll find the horses tethered fifty paces behind our lines. Just tell the corporal there that I said to give you mine."

The two men shook hands, and Damon looked grave. "God be with you in what you must do, General."

Lincoln nodded. "And with you, Colonel."

***

Savannah, Georgia

Ezekiel Elman came ambling up the steps and watched while Royal and Alba trimmed the branches of a lilac bush that spilled over the porch railing. The little man had come up so quietly that neither woman had heard him. He removed his cap and smoothed down his thinning gray hair.

"Morning, Miss Bradford," he said, smiling at Royal. "If it weren't for what happened at Charles Town, it would be a right nice day."

"Mr. Elman, how nice to see you," Royal said. "I was wondering how you were faring. I heard there was fighting near your farm."

"Nary a bullet hit my wife or myself, but they was awhizzing around and killed one of my stock. A right good milk cow she was, too."

"I am grateful that neither your wife nor yourself was hurt, Mr. Elman."

Alba gathered up an armload of branches and moved toward the side of the house. "I'll just take care of these," she said, eyeing the man's muddy boots warily. "If you are planning on going inside, make certain you wipe your feet first."

Both Royal and Ezekiel watched the housekeeper disappear, then Royal looked at him apologetically. "Would you like to come in and have something to drink? I believe Alba made some lemonade."

"No, ma'am, I just came to tell you the sad news, thinking you might not have heard about it yet."

Royal held her breath. "Damon... has anything happened to him?"

"Not that I know of, Miss Royal. But I got word this morning that Charles Town fell to the Redcoats. It's a sad day for us. This is the worst defeat we've had 'til now."

A sudden rage came over Royal. It came so strong and so unexpectedly that it left her breathless. "They can't do this to us! This is our land, not theirs." She thought of beautiful, graceful Charles Town and clenched and unclenched her fists. "Who's to stop them? Will they drive us to dust before they are finished?"

Ezekiel nodded grimly. "Never you fret—we'll stop 'em. With scrappers like George Washington and Nathanael Greene, we'll drive 'em back across that sea. General Clinton won't feel so proud when we win the final battle."

Royal's heart plummeted. Preston was supposed to be with Lord Clinton. "Was Sir Henry at Charles Town?" she asked.

"Yep. He was there bigger'n life."

When would this agony ever end? Royal tried not to think about Preston and Damon being on opposing sides in that battle. No, she could not bear to think about that.

"Them Redcoat generals must be havin' themselves a fine celebration over this'n! They brought us in the South to our knees!"

Royal fought against her anger, remembering that Damon had once told her the day would come when she would have to choose sides in this war. Apparently she had chosen today.

She moved down the steps to sit on a marble bench. "Sit beside me, Mr. Elman, and tell me what you know about the battle."

The old man adored the young beauty. He thought she was prettier than any female he had ever seen. And she was nice to him and listened to him when he talked, which was rare in young women these days. He would do anything for her—anything!

Sitting on the edge of the seat beside her, he began to tell Royal what he knew. "The way I heard it, the battle raged for forty-five long days until we was beaten and General Lincoln had to surrender."

"Do you know if Mr. Routhland was at the battle?"

"No, ma'am. I didn't hear if he was."

She drew in a deep breath. "Do you know anything else?"

"Well sir, the way I heard it from a man that was there, our officers were allowed to keep their swords until someone started shoutin', 'Long live Congress!' That got the British all het up, and they took the swords. Some men they paroled, and others they took as prisoners."

"Was anyone we know taken prisoner, Mr. Elman?"

"I hadn't heard any names." He chewed on his lower lip reflectively. "Comwallis made our men endure a painful thing. We wasn't allowed to march out with our colors and was forced to move out to the Turk's March. I 'spect that was meant to ridicule." His eyes took on a steely glint. "But we're proud... and we'll remember—we'll remember every insult!"

"I'm just a woman, Mr. Elman, and I don't claim to know what makes war. Why will a man fight over this bit of land or that bit of land? Why can't we all live together in harmony?"

He leaned back and studied her for a long moment. "My own wife feels much as you do, Miss Royal, and I'm not sure a woman will ever understand what drives a man."

"What drives a man like Damon Routhland, Mr. Elman?"

"Without the Damon Routhlands of this world, we wouldn't have no rights and no freedom. He's the kinda man that other men follow—the kinda man we admire and look up to."

"I suppose. Still, I will always detest war."

"Love it or detest it, but always stand by Mr. Routhland while he does what he must. He will need you beside him to soothe him when it goes wrong."

Royal looked stunned. "Not I, Mr. Elman. Damon Routhland is my guardian." She clenched her hands together. "He may need a woman to stand beside him, but it won't be me. He thinks of me as a nuisance and nothing more."

Ezekiel smiled to himself, wondering why young people made everything so complicated. He had lived many years and could see much that a younger man might miss. "He'll need you all right, Miss Royal." The old man stood up and moved down the path. "Just be ready for him, 'cause he's gonna need no one but you— if you can believe anything, believe that."

Royal stared after the departing Ezekiel until he climbed aboard his wagon and moved away. Mr. Elman was wrong, she thought. Damon Routhland would never need any woman, and he certainly did not want her!

***

A heady wind twisted the branches of the mulberry tree, making it scrape against Royal's bedroom window. Although it was after midnight and Alba and Tobias had been in bed for hours, she lay restlessly upon her bed, listening to the creaking and settling of the house.

Here, alone in her room, Royal allowed herself to reflect on her life. Tears soaked her pillow as her tortured thoughts gave her no peace. Damon could have been forced to surrender at Charles Town, or worse still, he might have been killed.

Burying her head in her pillow, she cried out her agony. If only she knew where he was and if he was safe. But suppose... he was—

"No," she said, unwilling to think of the heartbreaking possibilities.

Swinging her legs off the bed, she got up and walked to the window. The night was dark, and she could see only vague outlines. When was this war going to end? She tried to think of her life back in England but couldn't empty her mind of how her own people were suffering. When had she begun to change? Or had the feelings been there all the time?

In the distance she heard the rumble of thunder—or had it been cannon fire? She closed the window and made her way back to bed. If only she could sleep. She did not want to think about the war tonight.

After a while her eyes drifted shut, and she slept a troubled sleep.

Somewhere in the back of the house the wind twisted the branches of the mulberry tree, scraping it against the window again. Royal awoke with a start. Her eyes ran the length of the room where all but the darkened corners were illuminated by flick' ers of lightening. Her body was rigid as she listened to the sound of the rain pelting against the floor. She sat up in bed, her heart caught in her throat. She had closed the window, she knew she had.

Getting out of bed, she moved across the floor to discover the rug was wet. She closed the window, then turned back to allow her eyes to search the room.

"Is someone here?" she asked, feeling foolish for her fears. Per' haps she had only thought she'd closed the window. "Alba's going to be unhappy about the rug getting wet," she said, glancing around for something to sop up the water.

A jagged streak of lightning illuminated the room, and Royal drew in her breath as she stared at the shadow near her bed. Had it been a trick of her overactive imagination, or was someone hiding in the darkness?

"Don't make a sound, Miss Bradford," came a raspy voice she had never heard before. "You won't get hurt if you just do as I say."

Now the dark outline of a man was clearly visible, and he stood between her and her only exit. Royal retreated a few steps, wishing she had not closed the window. "W-Who are you?" she asked in a voice that trembled with fear.

"No one you have cause to know," came the sharp reply.

"What are you doing in my bedroom? Get out of here at once!"

Chilling laughter resounded. "Why, Miss Bradford, is that any way to talk to a man who took great pains to find you? In fact, I have come to take you away with me."

Royal was never so brave as when she was cornered. "Surely you must be crazed. I will never go anywhere with you! If I scream, my servants will come at once!"

The shadow moved toward her, causing her to take several steps backward. "They cannot help you, Royal Bradford. No one can help you now!"