Surrender the Night (16 page)

“You have us now, Cora. We are your family.” Rose dropped two more lumps of sugar into her tea.

“Goodness’ sakes, child. You’ll use up all our sugar.” Cora shook her head and sprinkled flour atop the dough. “Family, humph. I am your cook. I knows my place.”

“My word, Cora, you are so much more than that, and you know it.” Rose reassured the cook for what felt like the thousandth time.

Amelia smiled. “I certainly don’t feel like your servant.” Reaching across the table, she squeezed Rose’s hand. “You have treated me so kindly, I feel as though we are sisters.”

Rose forced back the moisture in her eyes. “I’m so thankful God brought you both into my life.”

“Your aunt and uncle have been kind t’ me.” Cora slapped the dough
into a bread pan. “But how can I ever be free while my people are still slaves?” She scratched her curly black hair beneath her scarf and fisted her hands at her waist. “And what has God got to do wit’ any of this?”

Rose gazed into the fireplace that took up nearly an entire wall of the kitchen. Iron pots bubbling with the noon meal hung on a crane over the flames. Yet, a chill coursed through her. She understood Cora’s attitude more than she cared to admit, for Rose had great difficulty finding God’s loving-kindness in any of the events of her life.

Amelia sipped her tea. “God brought you Samuel, Cora. He’d still be here if you hadn’t chased him off.”

Cora tossed the pan aside, her face deepening to a dark maroon. “That no-good, lazy, sluggard. I’m glad he’s gone.”

“He loved you, Cora.” Amelia shook her head and shifted her shoe over the floor.

Spinning around, Cora grabbed a ladle from a hook on the wall, but not before Rose saw a mist cover her eyes.

“That man don’t know how to love no one.” Bitterness sharpened her tone as she stirred the pot hanging over the fire.

But Rose wondered. She had always found Samuel to be a hard-working man of honor. A man who had not hid his interest in Cora. But in the end, he took off without a word to Cora or any of them. Rose had heard through gossip in town that he had joined the army—the British army.

Amelia stood and headed toward the window. “I miss my family too.”

Rose clutched the woman’s hand in passing. “The plague took many of the townspeople. You’re fortunate to have survived and to have been married to Richard at the time.”

She gave Rose a look of derision. “What did it matter? He is gone now.”

Rose released her hand along with a sigh of resignation. Her aunt and uncle had admonished Rose to always trust God, to not complain, and to share her hope with others. But how could she encourage her friends when she held to her own hope with nothing but a thin thread? “We should trust God,” was all she could think to say.

Cora gave a cynical chuckle. “If this is God’s doin’, I want no part o’ Him.”

Amelia leaned on the window ledge and gazed out. “It seems He
has taken everything from me as well.”

Rose stared into the amber-colored tea swirling in her cup. No amount of sugar could dissolve the bitterness in her throat. Was it by the hand of God they had all lost so much? She could make no sense of it. If God loved them, then why had He taken their families from them? She knew God existed. She understood that Jesus had come to earth and died and rose again so those who believed and followed Him would go to heaven. Maybe that was enough. Certainly it was more than any of them deserved. Despite what her uncle declared, perhaps their lives here on earth were meant to be lived without God’s help. Certainly that made more sense than thinking He purposely allowed His children to suffer so much pain.

Alex thanked Cora for the meal as he opened the door to the kitchen and stepped outside. All he received in return was a grunt from the peevish cook. Her dinner of wild goose and corn bread soaked in buttermilk was far better than her disposition. Closing the door, he gazed at the scorching sun that made one last effort to sear his skin as it dipped below the tree line in the western sky. He’d never experienced such sweltering heat. At least not since he’d sailed to Jamaica three years ago. How did these colonists bear it?

Adjusting the crutch beneath his arm, Alex hobbled over to examine his work. A dozen rows of cut logs sat neatly stacked beside the house. How he had managed to do all that work with one good leg, he could not fathom. Especially in the afternoon’s blazing heat. He pressed a hand against his back where an ache had formed hours ago. His wound throbbed, causing him to lean on his good leg, but even that appendage burned with exhaustion.

Turning, he gazed across the farm. He had not seen Miss McGuire since she had turned her pert little nose up at him that morning and sauntered away. Egad, she’d armed herself with a knife. Did she really believe he would hurt her? The thought saddened him.

His glance landed on the pigsty where the stinking beasts grunted and wallowed in the mud. The one named Prinney poked his snout through the wooden posts and looked forlornly toward the barn as if he were waiting for Miss McGuire’s appearance.

Infernal woman. Naming a pig after the Prince Regent! Yet Alex couldn’t help the smile that played on his lips even as his insides churned with indignation. Truly these colonists were every bit the unrefined, uncultured ruffians he’d been led to believe. And Miss McGuire. He’d never encountered such a woman in all his days. Hair consistently out of place, gowns stained with dirt, consorting with pigs and cows. Yet a healthy, fresh glow brightened her face much more than any powder and rouge he’d seen on the ladies back home, and her eyes—those lustrous eyes as clear and sparkling as the turquoise sea in the West Indies.

He really couldn’t blame her for wanting him gone. Despite the pain spiking up his back, he felt his strength returning. Soon enough he would relieve her of his company and head back to the crazy ramblings of Captain Milford and the tight confines of the HMS
Undefeatable
. So unlike the open spaces of this beautiful land. The western sky lit up with splashes of maroon, orange, and gold. He drew a deep breath of air and instantly regretted it. Lowering his chin, he took a whiff of his shirt. He smelled of sour milk, pig droppings, and sweat. If only his father, Lord Cranleigh, could see him now.

Squawks shot from the barn, and Alex hobbled in that direction. Prinney grunted at him as he passed, and Alex made a face at the filthy beast before he swept his gaze to Miss McGuire’s garden divided into neat rows of tomatoes, some type of squash, lettuce, potatoes, and corn. Guarding either side of the open barn doors stood two flourishing rosebushes, boasting pink and red blossoms. Yet their sweet scent did nothing to assuage the stench emanating from within. As Alex shuffled inside, he flinched at the sight that met his eyes. Miss McGuire sat in the dirt at the center of the barn, gown spread out around her, with a chicken in her lap. Unaware of his presence, she spoke softly to the bird while she stroked the chicken’s feathers. The bird clucked and snuggled against her gown like a cat, and Mr. Reed stood frozen in astonishment. His crutch shifted and struck the wooden doorframe.

She jerked her face up. “Mr. Reed.” Her eyes widened. “I thought you were partaking of your supper.” Shooing the bird from her lap, she jumped to her feet.

Alex repositioned the crutch and shuffled inside. “I was. Forgive the intrusion, Miss McGuire, but I heard squawking and thought
something might be amiss.”

“No, I was just … just …” She lowered her gaze.

“Petting a chicken?” He grinned.

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, if you must know. They are my pets.”

“Indeed? I thought you ate them.” He wrinkled his nose at the smell of horse and cow dung that permeated the barn.

“Shhh.” She cast a harried gaze around her. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

If Alex didn’t realize she was serious, he would have laughed out loud. As it was, he simply gazed at her, amazed that she always managed to astonish him and bring a chuckle to his lips.

“You have dirt”—he brushed a finger over his own cheek—“there on your face.”

She swiped at it, a look of annoyance crinkling her features.

Alex stretched his tight shoulders and took another step toward her. “Did you miss your dinner?”

“Supper. And no, Aunt Muira, Amelia, and I ate earlier in the dining room.”

“Ah, I’ve been reduced to a servant again.”

“Not reduced, sir.”

“Ah, you are correct, madam.” He gave a mock bow to which she pursed her lips and glanced out the door as if planning her escape.

“Where is your uncle?” he asked, longing to extend his conversation with this bewildering, charming lady.

“In town, I assume.” She moved toward Liverpool and began to stroke the cow’s head. “He does much work ministering at the taverns by the docks.”

The cow groaned her approval, then swept her huge brown eyes toward Alex as if to prod him into jealousy at the attention she was receiving.
Fiendish beast
.

“I see you finished the work I gave you.” Miss McGuire continued petting the cow.

“As I informed you, miss, I am accustomed to hard labor.” He rubbed his sore palms where blisters stung in defiance of his statement.

“I thought perhaps your wound would slow you down.” She lifted her gaze to his.

He took a step toward her.

She stepped back, fingering the handle of the knife still wedged in her leather sash. “But I see you are getting stronger.”

Alex halted. He hated that she feared him. A breeze blew in, sending the wisps of her hair fluttering about her shoulders even as the last traces of sunlight set them aglow. He shifted his stance uncomfortably and tried to do the same with his gaze. But his eyes refused to let go of their hold upon her as if losing her visage would leave them cold and empty.

Miss McGuire blinked. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Alex hesitated but the truth spilled unbidden from his lips. “Because you are quite lovely, Miss McGuire.”

Shock flashed in her eyes before she swept them down to her soiled gown, then over to Liverpool. She huffed. “You tease me, sir.”

“I never tease.”

Darkness stole the last shreds of light from the barn, leaving only the light from a single lantern hanging from the post.

“I should be going inside.” Miss McGuire headed toward the door. “Please douse the lantern when you leave.”

Alex stepped aside to allow her to pass when a
gong, gong, gong
rang through the night air.

She froze and stared wide-eyed at him.

“It’s only a bell, miss.”

“It’s the bell from St. Peters.” She glanced out the door, her lip quivering as her chest rose and fell rapidly.

“What does it mean?”

Gong. Gong. Gong
.

“It’s to warn us.” She swallowed. “British raiders have been spotted near town.”

A mixture of shame and anger battled within Alex. With his only thought to comfort her, he drew her into his arms. She tightened in his embrace stiffer than a sail at full wind. He nudged her back. “Go into the house. I’ll keep you safe.”

“No!” She jerked from him, anger darkening her features. “You are one of them.”

Alex felt her statement slam into his gut. “I told your uncle I would protect you, and I will.”

“You owe me nothing.” Grabbing her skirts, she started to leave
when Alex clutched her arm.

“I will never allow anyone to hurt you.”

“Go join your friends, Mr. Reed.” She hissed, then tore from his grasp and dashed out the door just as the crack of a musket shot split the evening sky.

CHAPTER 10