Surrender the Night (24 page)

He halted before her, peering down at her with such sorrow and longing that Rose nearly melted into him. She wanted him to hold her, wanted him to touch her.

He reached for her and tried to pull her close.

But she couldn’t allow that. He was British. He was leaving. It might be already too late for her heart, but she would not endanger herself further. Jerking from his grasp, Rose backed away. “Forgive me, Mr. Reed. I shouldn’t have disclosed such personal details.”

“No apologies necessary, Miss McGuire.” His brow wrinkled. “I’m glad you trusted me with the tale.”

“What does it matter?” Rose waved a hand through the air and forced a lighter tone into her voice. “You will be gone soon. Killing more of my countrymen.”

“I’m truly sorry our countries are at war.”

Lightning flashed. Rain dripped from the tips of his dark hair onto his collar. He shifted his boots in the puddles forming at their feet and cocked his head. Then lifting his hand, he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

Warmth sped through Rose. Her heart thumped against her ribs, and she leaned into his hand. Just for a second. For one glorious second. That was all she would allow herself.

Before she stepped back and forced indifference into her tone. “Leave me be, Mr. Reed. Return to the house.”

Disappointment flashed in his eyes. He fisted his hands at his waist and scanned the foliage. “I cannot allow you to wander about without protection. It is too dangerous.”

Anger rolled all sentiments away. “I am not a crew member aboard your ship, Mr. Reed, that you can order me about.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Go then, ride wherever you wish. But I will follow you.”

Thunder boomed above them.

“I will simply wait until you fall again.” Rose smirked. “Only this time I will not return.”

He leaned toward her, a sultry smile on his lips. “Why
did
you come back?”

“I see now it was a mistake.” Rose started to leave.

Mr. Reed gripped her arm and turned her to face him. “Your uncle grants you too much liberty.”

“We are in America, sir, where freedom is a way of life. Something I wouldn’t expect you British to understand.”

Mr. Reed smiled. “You have dirt on your face.”

Rose grimaced and ran the back of her hand over her cheek. Reaching down, she grabbed a clump of mud and eyed him with mischief, fingering its cool grainy texture. Then before he could grab her hand, she rubbed it on his jaw. “So do you.” She grinned.

A look of incredulity overtook his stiff features, as if he couldn’t fathom that she would do such a thing. He wiped the dirt and gazed at it as it slid between his fingers. Then one imperious brow lifted, and he spread the mud on her other cheek. “You seem to enjoy it more than I.” He grinned.

Rose’s blood boiled. Stooping, she gathered a larger blob, then tossed it at him. It splattered over his white shirt. “It suits you as well.”

He chuckled and caught the mud before it fell from his shirt. He held it up as if he would throw it at her.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Rose backed away.

“Wouldn’t I?” And for the first time, a mischievous glint took residence in his otherwise austere eyes. Rose chuckled and Mr. Reed joined her.

As their laughter faded, the sound of a gun cocking sped through the clearing. Mr. Reed froze and shot a worried gaze her way. Before Rose could react, he dropped the mud, clutched her arm, and dove into a bush.

CHAPTER 14

R
ose curled up against Mr. Reed’s firm chest and tried to still her rapid breathing. He reached for his hip as if searching for a sword. But when his hand came up empty, he swallowed her up in his thick arms and motioned her to silence. Leaves tickled her face and a branch jabbed her side, but she remained still. A twig snapped, and the sound of a footfall echoed their doom through the forest. A trapper? But Rose had never come across any trappers this close to town. It had to be a British raiding party. And if one of them recognized Mr. Reed, they would assume he’d deserted his ship and haul him away for trial—or whatever they did in the British navy.

She didn’t want to consider what they might do to her.

Rain splattered over the leaves, the soft sound blending in with the increased sound of footfalls heading their way.

A tremble coursed through her. Mr. Reed tightened his embrace. The strength and assurance in his arms eased across her nerves. Their breath intermingled as he pressed her head gently against his chest and held it there, stroking her wet hair.

Rose had not allowed any other man to touch her in years. My word, why did she feel so safe in the arms of this British officer—even in the midst of danger? The scent of wet linen and Mr. Reed filled her nostrils and eased into her lungs like a soothing elixir. She wished more than anything that the world would disappear around them and she could stay in his embrace forever.

But that was not to be.

Another twig snapped, and a pair of brown buckled shoes halted before the bush they hid behind.

Thunder shook the sky. The horses neighed.

The dark gaping eye of a musket plunged through the leaves toward them, pushing aside branches. Rose stiffened.

“Whoever is in there, I demand you toss your weapons on the ground and come out!”

Rose jerked. She’d know that voice anywhere. “Mr. Snyder?” She tried to free herself from Mr. Reed’s grasp, but his arms refused to release her.

The musket pushed in farther, spreading the foliage apart until Rose gazed up into the angular face of the councilman. The fear braiding his features fell into a confused frown.

“Egad, what mischief is this?” he barked, his eyes flashing.

Mr. Reed released her, and Rose scrambled to her feet. Swatting leaves and branches aside, she made her way out of the bush. Mr. Reed crawled out behind her and unfolded to his normal towering height.

“No mischief, I assure you, Mr. Snyder.” Rose glanced down at her muddy dress and tried to brush off the dirt but only succeeded in smearing it over the blue fabric. With a huff, she lifted her gaze to his.

The muscles in his cheeks bunched and released. His slit-like eyes swept from her to Mr. Reed. He raised his musket toward Alex. “Explain yourself, sir, or I shall be forced to shoot you where you stand.”

Mr. Reed’s right brow lifted as a smirk played upon his mouth.

“Mr. Snyder.” Rose approached him, more angry than frightened. Angry that this buffoon had given them such a scare. Angry most of all that he had interrupted her time with Mr. Reed. “It is not as it appears. What—”

“What it appears, Miss McGuire, would be too scandalous to voice.” He gestured with his musket toward Mr. Reed. “Did this man accost you? If so, I’ll deal with him here and now.”

Rose lifted a hand to her forehead where a headache formed. She gazed up at the canopy. Between the treetops, white lightning flashed across a gray sky. A drop of rain struck her eye, and she blinked.

Mr. Reed folded his arms over his chest as if there were no musket pointed at his heart. Rose stepped toward Mr. Snyder. She must force him to lower the gun trembling in his grip. Just the sight of the vile weapon sent a chill through her. “I assure you, Mr. Snyder, Mr. Reed has done me no harm. We heard your gun cock and thought perhaps the British were afoot given the recent alarms.” She raised a quivering
hand to the barrel of the musket. Cold, slick steel sent an icy shard through her fingers and up her arm. She forced the weapon down, snapping back her hand as soon as it was lowered. “So, you see, the situation is completely innocent.”

Mr. Snyder’s lips drew into a tight line. Rain dropped from the trees above and splashed onto his cocked hat before trickling off the sides. “What were you doing out here in the first place alone with this man?”

A tight band stretched across Rose’s shoulders at the man’s impertinent questions. “He is my servant, sir. In truth, he followed me to ensure my safety.”

Mr. Snyder laid the musket across his arms and shifted his stance. “Yet who is to protect you from him?”

Mr. Reed finally spoke, his voice deep and confident. “I would never harm Miss McGuire, and I resent the implication, sir.”

“Do you?” Mr. Snyder snapped. “We shall see about that.” He faced Rose, his blue eyes stark against the shadows of the forest. “By the by, your aunt and uncle may have a different opinion when they hear of this.”

Rose longed to kick mud on the man’s pristine trousers, but instead she merely released a sigh.

His face softened. “Are you all right, Miss McGuire? Did he harm you?” He scanned her from head to toe as if he only now noticed her condition. “Scads, you are covered in mud.”

Rose clenched her jaw. “Whatever are you doing out here in the woods, Mr. Snyder?”

The rain ceased and a low rumble of thunder bade farewell from the distance.

“Your aunt invited me to dine with you this evening.” Eyeing Mr. Reed, My Snyder tossed back his shoulders and stretched out his neck as if he was trying to make himself appear as tall as the British officer.

“And?” Rose planted one hand on her hip.

“When I inquired after you, your lady’s maid informed me that she saw you gallop into the forest.” He tipped his head toward Mr. Reed. “With this man chasing you.”

Rose shook out her gown and swiped wet strands of hair from her forehead. “Well as you can see, I’m perfectly safe.”

“Rubbish. You are drenched in rain and have mud from the hair on your head to the hem of your gown. Hardly proper behavior for a lady.” He clucked his tongue, then scratched the auburn whiskers lining his jaw.

Mr. Reed cleared his throat. “And sneaking about the forest, pointing muskets at unsuspecting ladies, is hardly proper behavior for a gentleman, sir.”

Mr. Snyder’s brow darkened. “Rather insolent for a mere servant, Mr. Reed. I’d hold my tongue if I were you.” He thrust the barrel end of the musket into the mud as if it were his cane. “Now, make yourself useful and fetch my horse.”

Mr. Reed shook the water from his hair, then raked it with his hand. His saturated shirt revealed every knot of muscle, each one tightening by the second. Despite her own wet gown, Rose warmed from head to toe at the sight.

“If I may make a suggestion, Mr. Snyder.” Mr. Reed addressed the councilman with the tone of one addressing an inferior. “The next time you take it upon yourself to thrust a musket into a bush, make sure its occupants are unarmed. Only a fool exposes himself to an enemy without knowledge of what weapons he possesses. Upon my honor, I could have shot you where you stood before you knew what hit you.” He smiled. “Before I knew it was you, that is.”

Mr. Snyder’s lips curled in a sneer. “Retrieve my horse at once.”

Mr. Reed glanced toward Rose, and she reluctantly nodded. Better to appease the man rather than increase his suspicion.

With a huff, Mr. Reed passed Mr. Snyder, bumping his shoulder. “Forgive me, sir.” His voice brimmed with sarcasm.

Hatred burned in Mr. Snyder’s eyes. “His insolence is not to be borne,” he said to Rose. “He should be dismissed immediately.”

“Yet that is not your call to make.” Rose hugged herself against a sudden chill.

Leaning his musket against a tree, the councilman shrugged out of his overcoat and flung it over her shoulders. “You are nearly soaked through, Miss McGuire.”

Not wishing to accept the man’s garment, but not wanting to anger him further, she drew it around her. “How kind of you.” Though the rain had ceased, water still fell from the leaves all around them,
echoing drip-drops through the darkening shadows.

Mr. Snyder leaned toward her. “Forgive my outburst, miss, but I am only concerned for you.”

She gave him a tight smile in reply as Mr. Reed tossed the reins of Mr. Snyder’s chestnut gelding to him before proceeding across the muddy clearing to retrieve Valor and Douglas. Unable to resist, Rose gazed after him, studying his strong jaw, peppered with evening stubble, his deep eyes, and confident gait. A longing gripped her to be alone with him again, to feel the safety of his arms around her.

After assisting Rose onto her horse, and mounting his own, Mr. Snyder rode by her side. When they arrived at the house, Mr. Reed led all three horses to the barn while Mr. Snyder, taking Rose’s arm with one hand and his cane in the other, ushered her toward the front door, babbling on about city politics, and offending her nose with his moldy bergamot scent. Her nerves tightened at his touch, creating a whirlwind of confusion in her mind. How could she feel so safe in the arms of a British navy officer and so troubled upon the arm of an American councilman? She glanced over her shoulder, hoping for one last look at Mr. Reed.