Moonlight Rebel (25 page)

Marwilda's face was marked with concern as she hurriedly applied a poultice to the wound. The mixture smelled even more foul than it looked. She looked up at Krystyna, her concern deepening. "Chile, you's gonna get in a heap o' trouble, keepin' dis boy in your bed." She shook her head, her red bandanna slipping to reveal rows of finely braided hair.

"Nothing is to be said to the people in the big house," Krystyna told her.

Marwilda noticed that the white woman referred to the McKinleys the way the slaves did and smiled. "Wasn't thinkin' o' the people, only Mast'r Jase."

Krystyna's expression darkened. Jason. She could deal with him. Did he think he could toy with her, murmur endearments to make her head spin, and then go back to his fiancee? If he did, he was to be sadly disappointed. She would play no more of his games.

" 'Sides," Marwilda looked down at the unconscious soldier, "once this one gets healthy, he might be a problem, too." She touched his forehead and frowned. It felt as if it were on fire. She slipped her bandanna from her head. "Here, wet this, girl," she said to her daughter. Leola did as she was told. Marwilda looked up to see Krystyna carefully watching what she did.

Krystyna wanted to know exactly what she must do. The soldier would need nursing, and Marwilda couldn't risk coming to the cabin. People in the house would grow suspicious if she was missing. There would be no school for Christopher until after the first of the year, so Krystyna knew it wouldn't be noticed if she spent her time here. Savannah would be relieved not to see her, and as for Jason . . .

Her mouth hardened. Jason would be busy with his house guest.

"Once he gets healthy, he might decide he's got his own way o' sayin' thanks," Marwilda warned her, accepting the wet cloth from Leola.

Krystyna wasn't going to worry about that yet. "I can take care of myself."

Marwilda chuckled to herself. It sounded more like a cackle. "Bet you can, too," she muttered, turning her attention back to the soldier.

Nathan left for home the next day. Krystyna was there to bid him godspeed. Though he loved him dearly, Jason wondered what there was about Nathan that caused Krystyna to respond to him so freely. He found himself envious of his cousin.

"I shall miss him," Krystyna said as she watched Nathan's carriage pull away.

"So will I." Jason turned to Krystyna. "I haven't anything to do for a few hours. Would you care to spend some time with me?"

"No." She saw the look of surprised confusion come over his face. "I have better things to do than stay flat on my back." Gathering up her skirts, she hurried away.

Stunned at first, Jason could only laugh at the nature of her retort. And at himself for caring about the wench. If he lived to be a thousand, he would never understand her. Only want her until the last breath left his body.

His laughter rang in her ears as she left. Obviously, she hadn't offended him, only amused him. Well, it didn't matter one way or the other. She was through with the likes of him. Let that shallow little bit of empty-headed fluff have him!

Quietly letting herself in, Krystyna immediately went to the soldier's side. He was sleeping fitfully. But still alive, and that was hopeful. Looking down at his face, she wondered why she was risking so much for someone she didn't even know. He might be someone horrible. Looking down at him, somehow she doubted it.

Sitting at his side hour after hour, she put fresh compresses on his fevered brow and changed his bandages regularly. She skipped as many meals as she dared, having Jeremiah come by with a tray whenever he was able. She went to breakfast and to dinner, and hoped that everyone would be too busy celebrating to notice her absence at the noon meal.

No one probably did, she thought ruefully. Charity was undoubtedly keeping Jason far too busy for him to wonder what had become of her. As she sat by the soldier's side with nothing but her patient to occupy her mind, Krystyna came to terms with the fact that Jason would marry Charity, despite what he had said to her. No one will have me now, she thought sadly. She had been spoiled for any other man. And she was probably poor as well. She was beginning to doubt that the money Thaddeus had put away for her father would stay hidden. Who knew what was happening in Poland now?

Besides, she would never want anyone but Jason. He had aroused something inside her, something she had never felt before and knew in her heart she would never feel again. There was no sense in marrying someone else, feeling the way she did.

With effort, she pushed aside all thoughts except those involving the safety of the young soldier sleeping in her bed.

She spent her days watching over him, waiting for his fever to break. At night, she slept on the floor, on a bed of blankets Jeremiah had supplied. Once the soldier actually opened his eyes.

"Vanessa?" he whispered, and the smile that came over his face as he sank back into oblivion was positively radiant.

Krystyna thought he would wake up again, but he didn't. And his fever remained high. She spent a long time looking at him and thinking of the circumstances that had brought him to her door. She thought of war, both here and at home, of everything and nothing, until she finally fell asleep.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, the soldier's fever broke and his slow recovery began. Krystyna went to fetch Marwilda.

Once Marwilda had confirmed his turn for the better and left, Krystyna put a fresh poultice on his arm. Then she looked down at the sleeping man's face. He seems so young, so trouble free in sleep, she thought. She remembered Marwilda's words of warning and wondered what would happen once he was awake. Was it wise to keep him in her cabin any longer?

Is anything wise? she wondered ruefully. A bitter smile crossed her lips as she sat down in the chair next to the bed. Her father had thought coming here was wise, and he had died. Now she lived to regret his decision.

She sighed and looked at the soldier, then at his bloodstained jacket lying in a heap in the corner. The uniform meant nothing to her. This war meant nothing to her, really. She had gotten involved with Nathan's beliefs because they closely related to her feelings about what was happening back in Poland. But she could not spread herself thin. She couldn't get involved in the politics here. Politics were to blame for her present situation, and she already had her hands full in seeing to this soldier.

She looked at him now. He was handsomer than Jason. Handsomer than any man she had ever seen, despite his stubble. But he was not quite as rugged as Jason.

Jason. Always my thoughts go back to him
, she scolded silently.

Sin-Jin moaned, and his hand went to the cloth on his head. He cast it aside, his eyes still shut. Krystyna bent to pick it up, intending to put it back on his head. When she turned around again, green eyes were looking at her from beneath the tangled blond hair that lay across his forehead.

"Where am I?" he whispered, his eyes darting about the small, dreary cabin. Had he stumbled onto some farmer's land? God, but his arm ached.

"You are safe for now," Krystyna assured him. A triumphant smile flitted across her lips. He was conscious. Finally!

"Are you people loyalists?" His voice cracked. His throat felt dry and parched.

"No." She saw the apprehension in his eyes. "But no one knows you are here."

He looked down and saw that he was wearing a nightshirt. Then his eyes scanned the area, searching for his uniform. "I could be shot for not being in uniform." He tried to sit up.

She gently pressed him back down. It took no effort at all. He was as weak as a small child.

"You could be shot for being in it," she pointed out.

"Then you're one of them?" Was he being kept prisoner?

"I am one of me," she replied firmly.

She sounded as if she meant that, but he had no idea what she was trying to say. He tried to focus on her face. "Who are you?"

"Right now," she replied matter-of-factly, placing the compress back on his head, "a bond servant."

He shook his head. The effort hurt. "No, you're not a servant. I've been around too many servants. You're not one of them. There's too much authority in your voice." The conversation was weakening him, but he had to know. "What's your name?" He reached for her hand, needing the reassuring touch of her skin against his. He wasn't hallucinating. This was real. She was real.

She let him touch her hand before she withdrew it. "My name is Krystyna. Jeremiah and I found you and brought you here. That is all you need to know."

She rose to warm the soup Jeremiah had brought a little while ago in the hope that the soldier would regain consciousness. He wanted the man to get well quickly and leave before any trouble arose from his presence.

"For now," Sin-Jin said.

She inclined her head. "As you wish."

The broth ready, she propped him up so that she could feed him.

She smells good, he thought. He had spent months with men who smelled like cattle, sleeping in ditches and tramping down muddy roads. Krystyna was a gratifying change. She reminded him of Vanessa, except that her hands were softer and the lines about her mouth were not nearly so hard.

And she looked sadder. Vanessa only looked desirable or angry, never sad, not even when she had told him she was marrying Matthew.

He let Krystyna fuss around him, partially because he was so weak and partially because he liked having a woman doing things for him, especially one who was so pretty. He watched her as she slowly brought the spoon to his lips and waited for the warm liquid to cascade down into his stomach. It burned, but felt wonderful. When had he eaten last? It seemed like another lifetime.

He studied her. "So pretty to be a savior," he said finally.

"I am hardly that." Her laughter sounded like a soft bell chiming. The fireplace caught the glow on her cheeks and increased the warm hues of her features. No, not like Vanessa. She was prettier than Vanessa. A lot prettier.

"You really are very beautiful." He reached out to touch her hand, and she looked into his eyes. She didn't misread the message there.

He certainly was getting better quickly. "And you really are too ill to try to seduce me at this moment." Setting aside the nearly empty bowl, she pushed him back down and placed another damp cloth on his forehead. "Now stay quiet, and we shall continue this conversation when you are stronger than I am."

He laughed, and it hurt his chest.

"See, you are weak. Now do get some rest. You have been through a great deal."

He was about to agree with her, but found himself suddenly too tired to form the words. He was asleep before she put the dish away.

Chapter Nineteen

"Don't you even want to know my name?" Sin-Jin murmured more to himself than to the sleeping woman lying on the blankets on the floor.

He had awakened and found her there beside his bed, curled up like a child in sleep. He had wondered once again who she was and what fortune had brought her into his life, or he into hers. Asleep she appeared much more relaxed. The tension in her face was gone. Her hair was fanned out like a luxurious veil on the blanket, and he had decided that the resemblance between her and Vanessa was only minor.

Vanessa was calculating. He had been too young and too infatuated to notice it at the time. There was only gentleness in this woman's face.

To his regret, she was wearing her day clothes. He thought it would be nice to see her with only a nightgown on. Perhaps he would have gotten to know her even better then. Even in his weakened state, the thought brought a smile to his face. His arm ached, and there was still that wretched throbbing in his head; but he wasn't dead, and he could certainly appreciate having someone the likes of Krystyna between the sheets.

Krystyna woke with a start. Looking around quickly, the echo of his words vaguely resounding in her brain. Since she had taken the soldier in, she had slept lightly, always on the alert against hearing someone approaching the cabin.

"Oh, you are awake." She stretched and brushed her hair from her
 
face. Rising, she glanced out the window.

Dawn was just beginning to nudge aside the darkness.

The fire had long since died, and it was cold in the room. Krystyna began to poke at the embers in the hearth.

"It would not do for you to catch a chill on top of everything else," she murmured. "Ah." The flames had caught. The fire was beginning to grow, its warmth spreading. "There, that is better." She returned the poker to the side of the fireplace.

Straightening, she rubbed her arms, then turned toward her patient, concerned. "Are you cold?"

He was about to say no, for she had buried him under three blankets. But he thought better of it. "Yes." He raised his eyes to her face. "But I'm afraid I can't rub my arms the way you can."

"Here, let me." Bending over, she massaged his good arm, trying to get his blood circulating. As she worked, her breasts moved up and down a scant two inches from his face.

Any nearer, he thought, and I could kiss them. The urge was a good deal stronger than he would have assumed in his weakened state. But he repressed it. He wasn't about to repay her kindness by acting like a rutting pig. It was easy to see, despite her surroundings, that she was a lady and as such, deserved his respect.

"What was it you said to me when I woke up?" She rubbed his arm harder.

He forced himself to look only into her eyes. "I asked if you wanted to know my name."

Yes, she did. But she would understand if he didn't tell her. It was wartime. "Only if you want to tell it to me."

"God, no curiosity? Are you sure you're not an angel?" he asked with a smile.

"Very sure."

"My name's Saint John Lawrence." He gave a little bow of his head, though it cost him. "Lieutenant."
   

"No bowing for a while," she reprimanded, noting his momentarily disoriented expression. "That is a very strange name."

He laughed at her polite assessment. "I hated it as a child. My mother's maiden name was Saint John, so they just passed it along to me."