Moonlight Rebel (29 page)

For the first time in Lucinda's life, she had puzzled out a situation on her own. She had drawn her own conclusions without someone else telling her what to think. Though she was frightened, the slight control she was exercising over her life felt exhilarating. Krystyna was her friend, and she had to protect her at all costs.

Heated voices from the sitting room echoed throughout the house. Krystyna listened only long enough to assure herself that they had nothing to do with anyone discovering Sin-Jin in her cabin. From the sound of it, Morgan was embroiled in another political discussion. His was the only voice she could hear clearly. She wondered what had brought him back so soon.

She turned her mind to the woman in the hall. As she approached her, she noticed that Lucinda looked unusually pale. "I do not have time now, Lucinda, but I would like to see you later to discuss . . ." How was she to put this delicately? ". . . your appearance."

Thoughts of the secret she had discovered flew from Lucinda's mind at Krystyna's words, and she felt a stab of pain. She knew she was plain. All her life she had been told that. But she had never expected Krystyna to allude to it. The fact that this woman she considered her friend had done so hurt deeply.

Krystyna saw the other woman's expression fall and regretted her choice of words. She only wanted to help. Linking an arm through Lucinda's, she ushered her off to the side. "I know I am being forward," she said quickly, "but if you would let me, I would like to perhaps . . . experiment on you."

Lucinda looked at her uncertainly. "Experiment?"

Krystyna placed her fingers beneath Lucinda's chin and tilted it slightly. "I think you have a lot to offer, but you do not make the most of it." Krystyna studied her closely. Yes, she was certain she could make her look more attractive. She smiled warmly at Lucinda. "It always helps to be your most appealing for a husband."

Lucinda realized what Krystyna was saying to her. Sadness entered her eyes as it always did when she thought of Aaron's unfaithfulness. "Aaron can't help the way he is. It's in his blood. And was in his father's before him. His father-"

" — is not Aaron," Krystyna insisted. She wouldn't be deterred. She was convinced she could help. Lucinda deserved a measure of happiness in her life. And perhaps Aaron would be surprised at the rose that was blooming in his garden under his very nose. "It would do no harm to try."

"No, I guess not." Lucinda smiled at her, grateful for the interest Krystyna was taking in her welfare. "You really are very nice to me." She had no idea how to make her gratitude known.

Krystyna smiled over her shoulder as she made her way to the stairs. "It is not hard." She wondered if Lucinda would ever realize how much more worthwhile she was than Savannah.

Lucinda looked after her, a feeling of warmth filling her. The soldier in the cabin was completely forgotten for the moment.

Morgan's voice assaulted her ears as Krystyna reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Just look at this." Morgan waved a pamphlet at her. The horseman he had encountered had pressed it on him. "Some cold-blooded northerner's got more sense than some of the men in this county."

He had a copy of Thomas Paine's pamphlet Common Sense. It had just been printed and was spreading through the colonies like wildfire. Zealots were distributing as many copies as they could get their hands on. The words within the pamphlet were exactly the fuel men needed to fire them up at this time of indecision.

"Calm down, Father," Jason said when no one else uttered a word. "You know that's not true. Patrick Henry's from our county, as are Tom Jefferson and Richard Henry Lee. You're not the only man on the side of the Americans." He perched on the arm of a chair, his arms crossed before him, as calm in appearance as his father was agitated. "This isn't your private war."

Morgan whirled on him, surprisingly agile for a man of his age and bulk. His coattails flew out behind him. "Well, it would be if the likes of you were all the country had to depend on."

"We're not a country yet," Winthrop reminded him coldly. Then his smug look faded in the face of Morgan's ire.

"The hell we're not! Washington flew our flag over Cambridge in Boston."

Jason looked up, his interest aroused. "We have a flag?"

"We have a country, sir!" Morgan boasted. "No thanks to you."

"Father," Jason pointed out wearily, "we've been through all this before." He glanced at Winthrop's pudding face. He hated having the man privy to what amounted to a family quarrel. "There's no need to make a public scene out of it."

"Why not?" Morgan threw up his hands. "My shame is public. I have one weak son who is obviously on the side of the British bastards —in his own mousy way." Aaron winced and purposely looked at no one, fully convinced that all were looking at him. "And one coward who won't take any stand at all."

Jason rose, his expression dark. His hands were clenched at his sides in an effort to keep hot words from spewing from his lips. "Never say that to me again," he warned, and for a moment even Morgan's self-righteous fire abated. "When I can feel this war in my gut the way you can, sir, then and only then will I take a stand." He let the anger leave his voice. "Right now it is primarily a lot of shouting and name-calling on both sides, with misguided 'patriots' wasting their lives on the whims of a fat king. I won't be part of this madness until it makes sense to me."

Morgan's face grew red. How could he have spawned something like this? "What of freedom?"

Jason didn't back away. "What freedom is there in being made to follow? You are infringing on mine, sir, by trying to make me bend to your will. I will do what I want when I want." He crossed to the doorway. "Now if you will excuse me, there is work to be tended to."

And with that he turned and walked out, not noticing Krystyna, who had stood in the opposite doorway throughout the whole confrontation.

Her eyes followed him, mixed emotions churning through her. Once she had thought him a coward, just as his father did. She knew now that he wasn't, but what was he? She couldn't understand a man who didn't feel something for his country, didn't feel a part of it. He was not British, he was not American. He was alone.

No, she thought, remembering the way he had held her in his room. He is not alone. No matter what happened, no matter where she went, where he went, she would be his. Her soul belonged to him. She tried to hate him for that, but couldn't though he had complicated her life beyond belief. She no longer knew what she wanted. Her direction was unclear.

Krystyna slipped into the kitchen quietly. Only Jeremiah was there. "Been waitin' on you," he murmured. He handed her a basket he had hidden in the pantry. "It's full."

With that, he turned back to his work as if she weren't there.

"Thank you " she whispered.

Quietly, taking care not to encounter anyone outside the house, Krystyna made her way back to her cabin.

Sin-Jin turned his head toward her as she closed the door behind her. She is as silent in her movements as a doe in the forest, he thought. "Hello. I was beginning to worry about you."

"I could not get away until now. How do you feel?" Taking off her shawl, she opened the basket Jeremiah had given her. She took out several slices of ham and a bowl of vegetables, placing them on a plate.

Sin-Jin eyed the food hungrily. "I could certainly eat that." His stomach rumbled to give credence to his statement.

She smiled. "That is a good sign." Setting the food on the chair next to him, she helped prop him up. "The faster you get well, the better for all of us." Sin-Jin stopped reaching for the food to look at her. "I do not wish to make you feel unwelcome, but . . ."

He nodded. "I understand." He accepted the cup of water she handed him. "Am I putting you in a great deal of danger?"

She shook her head. What would be would be. "No, do not worry about that. Nothing will happen to me."

She sounds so confident. What is her place in the scheme of things here? he wondered. "You know, you're an amazing woman." His eyes washed over her, and the look in them showed more than mild interest. "I was once in love with someone who looked a bit like you." He thought for a moment, remembering. "Except that she had a cruel smile. I never noticed it before, but she had." He laughed at his own folly. "Hard to see things when you're in love." He swallowed another mouthful of food, then looked at her curiously. "Are you really an indentured servant?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"In what manner of speaking?" he prodded.

"I made a bargain with the master here. I will stay and teach his grandson history and languages if he pays me enough money to buy my passage back home."

"Which is where?"

She looked at him, the answer stuck in her throat from habit. But she needed to talk to someone just now, needed to give voice to all the turmoil inside, and who better than a stranger who would be out of her life in a few days? "Poland."

He tried to picture where that was in Europe. "I've never met anyone from there before." He look a long drink, then turned to his food. "If you want to go back so badly, why did you come here in the first place?"

Yes, why? "My father thought it would be best for us. We were in danger."

He noted that her expression had sobered. Sin-Jin waited, but she offered him no further explanation. He had to fill in the gaps himself. "You're an emigre, then?"

Krystyna nodded, but still didn't say anything further.

"A princess?"

This time she laughed. That was what Jason called her. She had begun to look upon it as a term of endearment. "No, nothing nearly so grand."

"There couldn't be a title grand enough for you." He looked down at the plate. Hungry though he was, he was no longer involved in eating. Before him sat a mystery.

"Eat," she urged, gesturing at the food. "You need your strength. I am a countess." She watched his face to see his reaction.

He took it in stride. "Where is your father, now, Countess?"

"It is just Krystyna here, and my father is dead." Even now, it hurt to say it. "They killed him."

"They?"

"My father's enemies." She clenched her hands in her lap. "I do not know how they knew we were going to America, but they were here, waiting for us. One of them was even on the ship we took to come to this land." She didn't want to dwell on that. "Come, you haven't finished eating."

"I've had enough." He put the plate on the chair again. Krystyna picked it up and placed it on the table. "What if I were to buy your passage home?"

She turned around to look at him. "What did you say?"

"What if I were to buy your passage home?" he repeated. "I'll be well enough to leave soon, and I'm not without means."

But Krystyna shook her head. "I do not wish to be in debt to anyone." She closed the lid on the basket. "That is why I am earning my way back."

"It is I who am in debt to you," he reminded her. "You saved my poor, miserable life, such as it is." He grinned. She smiled in return, just as he had hoped she would.

"If you are in debt to me, I should like to wait. I may find need of that debt someday. I have time," she told him. "Besides, I cannot return right now. My father was a very vocal man, and the people who came into power were offended by many things he said. The year that it takes to earn money for my passage should be enough time to cause them to forget. And it will be enough time, perhaps," she added in a lower voice, "for me to find my father's assassin."

He didn't want to see anything happen to her. "Searching for a killer can be very dangerous," Sin-Jin warned.

"Perhaps. But there are worse things to live with than danger. My conscience will not let me rest until I have at least tried to avenge his death."

She didn't admit to Sin-Jin that there was another reason why she didn't seize his offer: if she left now, she would be leaving Jason. She didn't even admit that to herself.

Chapter Twenty Three

Several more days passed by, and Sin-Jin continued to mend. Krystyna grew accustomed to his presence. He was a sympathetic listener, and she found that she could talk to him easily. She had never allowed herself the luxury of sharing feelings with anyone before, other than her father.

She was a countess and had been raised accordingly. There were traditions to uphold. This way of life that was centuries old didn't allow for the sharing of innermost emotions. A barrier had to be maintained. She had always been kind, considerate, but perforce, distant from those around her. A longing for closeness was something new to her. It had come on the heels of the feelings Jason had unlocked within her.

Sin-Jin knew he would soon be leaving her. The thought of doing so made him sad. Though each day that passed was fraught with the threat of discovery, at least he shared it with her. He thought he was falling in love with Krystyna. She was soft and tender at the moments when he needed her to be.

As he grew steadily stronger, his desire for her increased. He began to wonder what it would be like to have this warm, enticing creature give herself to him. Though he couldn't risk offending her with overt attempts at seduction, he tried his best to allude to his feelings and sound her out as to hers.

Each day he watched her rise, wishing that it was from his bed. "I'm cold," he told her one brisk morning. The world was gray outside the window.

"I shall raise the fire." She turned to do so, only to have his words stop her.

"I've a better way to raise a fire." He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips.

Gently, she withdrew it. "No, John. The only fire in this room will be the one in the hearth."

He sighed, knowing he could not press. "It won't be nearly as delightful."

"Perhaps," she agreed. She picked up some kindling and threw it on the logs. "But it will be a good deal safer for all concerned."

He took that to be a refusal and didn't urge her any further. But his longings remained.

Now that she felt Sin-Jin was strong enough to flee from the cabin on his own if he were discovered, Krystyna had time to spend with Lucinda.