Love’s Betrayal (22 page)

“Do you not know?” she managed through a ragged breath.

“I've hoped and prayed for that very thing.”

“I care for you. I care very much.” Her heart beat fiercely. Her stomach fluttered as though a myriad of butterflies had suddenly taken flight.

“Dare it be love?” His face grew ghastly pale, and he dragged his tongue over his lips. “Delight, I do love ye.”

A small cry escaped her lips, and her eyes filled with joyous tears. “And I love you.”

He pulled in the reins and set the brake. His hands shook so he could barely complete the task. In the next instant he drew her into his arms. “It seems I've waited a lifetime to hear ye repeat those words—words sweeter than honey.”

She lifted her face to meet his, silently begging for a kiss to seal the love bubbling inside her. He did not disappoint. Henry's lips claimed hers lightly. But with the fervency of the moment, the kiss deepened, and she eagerly responded. Her hands reached for his neck, and she raked her fingers through the mass of copper-colored hair.

He finally pulled himself from her. “Thank ye for letting me speak me heart.”

Delight knew she had to be completely honest. “I am afraid, Henry. I'm fearful of the war and of your not returning. I could not bear living without you.”

He touched his finger to her cheek. “I know, me Delight. But God has a span of time for each of us. He's marked our days, and there is nothing we can do to alter His plan. I promise I will do what is noble and right for our country and, God willing, return to you.”

Oh Father, this apprehension of mine has kept me from loving Henry totally in my heart. Guard him, I beg of Thee.
“I sense my trust in God faltering each time I think of you. I am so sorry.”

He offered a slight smile. “I've read it in your eyes, and I will continue to pray for our Father's peace.”

“Are you two finished with all your whisperings?” Charity called from the rear of the wagon.

Startled, Delight realized she had momentarily forgotten her sister's presence. “Probably not.” She laughed.

“From the lack of conversation, I am assuming you two are engaged once more in a kiss,” Charity continued. “I refuse to look for fear I might be embarrassed.”

“Most assuredly.” Henry chuckled. He took Delight's hand into his and kissed it.

“Papa and Mama will hear of this.” Charity giggled. “After all, I am the chaperone.”

“I shall be the first to tell.” Henry's familiar wide smile broke across his rugged features. “In fact, I will shout it to all the world.” He winked at Delight. “I love Delight Butler,” he shouted. “I love the most fair lass in the whole world, and she loves me!”

Hours later they still chatted away, their conversation floating from one topic to another, but always with enthusiasm.

“When we have some privacy, I will ask ye to marry me,” Henry whispered.

“And what if I should ask you?” Delight tingled from head to toe from his attentions. She attempted to look serious, yet a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, ye are a modern lass,” he said. “Shall I beware of finding us alone?”

“You two are properly suited,” Charity called from the wagon bed. “I can recall a time not so long ago when you loathed each other.”

“'Twas a mere disguise of love,” Henry said.

“I think you should wed the same day we return to Chesterfield,” her sister said.

Delight felt her heart slam against her chest. As elated as she felt, a wedding could not take place until the war had ended. She refused to be a widow. Nay, they should wait until peace blanketed the land. Lifting her gaze, she saw Henry studying her curiously.

Henry, do not take Charity seriously. It is … impossible.
“We cannot wed until after the war,” she said softly.

A grim sadness captured her. In a moment, his happiness seemed to vanish.
I've hurt him, but surely he can see how foolhardy it would be to do otherwise.

Henry kept both hands on the reins and gripped them hard. Masking this disappointment was one of the hardest feats he'd ever attempted. Like a giddy young man, he had assumed Delight felt the same commitment as he and would marry him this very day if possible, but her vision of marriage lay in the future. The thought pained him greatly, and he fought hard to recover his former enthusiasm.

I'm being selfish. If I were killed, she'd be a widow. I don't want a lonely life for her.

“Of course, that would be utmost, lass. We can have a wonderful wedding with all of your family after the war.”

“Splendid.” She snuggled close to him and linked her arm in his. “For a moment, I feared you to be unhappy with me.”

“The war could last a very long time. Perhaps another year,” Charity called from the back.

Even longer, and every day would be miserable without my beloved to come home to. I'd agree to anything to keep her.

Delight abruptly straightened. “Surely not, sister. With the British defeated at the Battle of Saratoga, we must be facing mere months.”

“What do you think, Henry?” Charity said. “Could you and Papa be home in so short a time?”

He carefully formed his words, not wanting to dishearten the women but believing there were many battles yet to fight before the British granted freedom to America. “Lasses, Saratoga is in New York. What of the South? Thirteen colonies exist where other British and American soldiers will battle. General Washington has a grand plan, I am sure, but things of this nature take time.”

Silence echoed around him. Guilt assailed him for forcing reality into their tender hearts. “I did not mean to upset you,” he finally said.

“You spoke the truth,” Charity said. “James, with all of his zeal and enthusiasm, says the same.”

“I do not agree with you.” Delight slung the words as though pitching soiled straw from a barn. “We may not have fancy uniforms or generals of nobility, but we have the cloak of truth.”

“Truth is certain,” Henry said. “But the cause takes time, effort—and the blood of men to lead it to victory.”

Defiance etched her face. “Perhaps you do not truly harbor freedom and liberty in your soul.”

“And perhaps ye do not really know me at all.”

Four days more, and the wagon rumbled over the outskirts of Chesterfield. Delight no longer felt exhilarated in the return, for she and Henry had not spoken since their disagreement. Anything she wished to convey to him was spoken through Charity. To her frustration, Henry acted as though nothing uncomfortable existed between them. Delight knew her childish behavior needed to stop, but her pride interfered. She wanted to apologize sincerely, but the words refused to come.

When she looked back on it, she realized she'd hurt him twice—first in her refusal to marry him before he enlisted and second in questioning his allegiance. Charity had scolded her severely, then hugged her and told her she loved her. Her sister was disappointed, and rightfully so. Henry was distressed and Delight shouldered all the blame.

Why can't I simply say I was wrong? Have I not learned anything from scripture?

A horrible thought sickened her. What if Henry should be hurt or killed in the days ahead, and she had not mended the problem between them? What if he became so disillusioned with her argumentative spirit that he found another woman to ease his wounded heart? She resolved to wait not a moment longer. Already the last house in Chesterfield came into view. From there, they would soon reach home, and from there would come his enlistment.

“Henry,” she said meekly from the back of the wagon.

“Aye.” His tone balanced between cordial and impersonal.

“I want to say—”

Charity gasped. “Are those British soldiers in the distance?”

He pulled the wagon to a halt. “Lass, I believe ye are right.”

Delight rose to her feet as the sum of her nightmares came within her view. Redcoated uniforms glittered in the afternoon sun, reminding her of blood shed for the cause of liberty. “Henry, you must run before they find you.”

Charity grabbed the reins from him. “Yes, don't let them see you.”

He whirled his gaze to Delight, his look filled with the love he had hidden for the past four days.

“Please, go.” Delight reached to touch his shoulder, but the horses took a step and jolted the wagon. He steadied her, his touch scorching her flesh.

“Go with him,” Charity said. “Now, before they see how many of us are in the wagon. I can take care of myself.”

Delight needed no more urging and swung her leg over the side while Henry jumped to the ground. Grabbing his musket, Henry grasped Delight's hand, and the two raced toward the woods. She wondered about his injured leg, but for the present it didn't slow him.

God help us!

“Do you see them?” she said breathlessly, afraid to peer behind. One hand clung to Henry's, and the other held her skirts. Desperation and fear riddled her senses.

“Nay, but they will surely inquire of Charity. I believe they are looking for me.”

Alarm seized her. “Will they harm her?” They raced into thick underbrush, where she stopped to gain her breath. Henry studied the wagon and soldiers.

“I think not. They have no reason to suspect anything amiss.” He paused. “She has just met up with them.”

Delight scurried to view the scene. “I am sorely worried about her.”

“Do not worry about your sister. She is stronger than she appears.”

A remembrance of the past weeks danced across her mind. Charity had amazed her on more than one occasion with her cleverness and gumption. “I comprehend what you are saying. I've seen and felt an inner strength that I greatly admire.”

He sighed. “I don't like the fact that she is the one who must endure the soldiers' questioning. At the moment, selfishness is creeping all over me. I shouldn't have left her alone, fleeing like a scared boy.”

“If you had stayed, you would be on your way back to fighting for the wrong side.”

He nodded and continued to study the British, who had turned their horses around and trailed after Charity and the wagon.

Another stab of alarm snatched at her heart. “Why do you suppose they are following her?”

Henry stared at the small parade as though he were reluctant to speak his mind. “Possibly Abby Rutherford is hosting them for tea.”

She heard the bitterness in his voice. “Are you thinking she may have alerted them to your whereabouts?”

“And those of James.”

Oh no, poor Charity.
“They would not be kind to him, would they?”

“Nay, lass. If they have him, he faces serious trouble.”

“What shall we do?”

He turned and offered a smile. “Always we. Must you continually become involved with the perilous aspects of life?”

His infectious grin subdued her irritation. How many times had she questioned the same thing? “I know I am independent.”

“But are ye totally dependent on God?”

Henry's inquiry burned to the core of her being.
How could he ask such a despicable thing, especially at a time like this?
“Of course I am.”

“Are you, Delight? Completely? Without hesitation?”

An inner voice stirred her being.
Could Henry be correct in his assessment?

I don't think so. I am the oldest. It is my nature to look after others.

“But in doing so, are you trusting Me?”

Delight trembled. The truth assaulted her. She did trust more in herself than in the Creator. Oh, she prayed, but too many times when circumstances required immediate attention, she acted before relying on God. Deep down, she knew He didn't need her assistance. God simply asked for her loving obedience.

She blinked and stared up at Henry, feeling his gaze upon her. He showed no condemnation, only an earnest desire for her to respond to his concerns.