Take My Heart (Heroic Rogues Series) (22 page)

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

“Because I felt like it. I have not seen you since last night, and I have missed you.”

Her lips curled up into a smile. “And I have missed you.”

“Then kiss me and show me.”

Without hesitation, she bent her head and met his waiting lips. He turned her and sat her on his lap while he kissed her passionately. Her fingers delved through his hair, and he loved her gentle strokes.

Grudgingly, he broke the kiss. They needed to talk. Now was the perfect time to express his feelings, and it couldn’t be delayed a moment longer. Keeping her on his lap, he relaxed in the heavily cushioned chair. She looked at him with a smile of satisfaction gracing her lovely mouth.

“I have wanted to do that all morning,” he said.

Her cheeks darkened in a blush. “Me, too.”

“Then why have you not come to see me sooner?”

“One of us needs to stay strong, William.”

“And, as always, it has to be you,” he said.

“If I let you have your way, your leg would never heal.”

“Probably not, but I would be one very happy man.”

She laughed and cuddled closer. Wrapping his other hand around her, he held her in place. He liked this sitting arrangement too much.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked.

He stared into her hypnotic gaze. “Our future.”

Her eyes widened. “What about our future?”

“I would like you to share it with me.”

Her smile broadened, too. “Indeed?”

“Yes.”

“But why?”

“Because I have fallen in love with you,” he confessed.

A gasp escaped, and liquid gathered in her eyes. “Are you certain?”

“Very certain.”

A tear slipped down her cheek before she buried her face into his neck. “I have fallen in love with you, as well.” Her voice broke.

He kissed the side of her face. “And is the idea so terrible it brings tears to your eyes?”

She hiccupped a laugh. “I am just so happy you share the same feelings.”

“How could I not fall in love with you? You are my world now, and you have taken over my heart.”

“Oh, William...I do love you...but—”

“There are no buts. Not this time.”

He kissed her again, enjoying the way her mouth melded with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Anxious to finally make her his wife, he moved his hands to the long row of pearl buttons holding her dress together, anxious to be rid of the garment, but just as he plucked at a button, someone knocked on the door.

She jumped off him and quickly adjusted her dress. Silently he cursed. He could kill whoever it was that decided to interrupt their intimate moment.

Mercedes hurried to the door and opened it. Colonel Burwell and one of his servants stood on the other side. Grim expressions marred their faces.

“I hope you will forgive out unannounced timing, but I have discovered some vital information and knew I had to share it with you.”

Mercedes nodded and motioned for them to enter. She moved behind them as they walked closer to William.

William met Colonel Burwell’s stare. “What is it you have to tell me?”

The colonel shifted from one foot to the other, his gaze moving around the room too quickly. “The day of your accident, your wife suggested someone had been shooting at you.”

“Indeed they had,” William snipped.

“Well, I had asked my servants and the other guests and nobody saw anything out of the ordinary that morning. However, just today, my gardener—” he motioned to the man standing next to him— “found an abandoned rifle in the same area where you had fallen from your horse.”

Mercedes gasped and rushed to William’s side. He took her shaky hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, trying to reassure her.

“The closer I searched the area,” the colonel continued, “I noticed footprints in the dirt. What captured my attention about these markings was that they were not large like a man’s, but smaller...like a young boy’s.” The colonel sighed heavily. “I am led to believe some lad must have been target shooting and missed.”

Anger throbbed in William’s head.
Target shooting my eye!
Yet, what other conclusion could Colonel Burwell come to?

“Is it not a misfortune that the lad left his rifle there? I would think the lad would take it with him.” William nodded. “Nonetheless, I appreciate your assistance in this matter. And thank you for letting me know what you have found.”

The colonel smiled, his gaze moving to William’s injured leg. “I have heard you are doing better.”

“That, I am, sir. In fact, your physician mentioned I may be able to leave tomorrow.”

“That is splendid. I am happy to know you have recovered quickly. However, know that you may stay as long as you wish in order for your leg to heal.”

“Thank you, Colonel Burwell. Your hospitality has been appreciated, I assure you.”

Mercedes remained standing by his side until the colonel and the gardener left and closed the door. He tugged on her arm and brought her back to his lap where he cuddled her close.

“Oh, William.” She buried her head in his neck. “I fear for your safety.”

He kissed the side of her face, deeply breathing in her flowery scent. “Why, my love?”

She pulled away and met his stare. “Because you know as well as I that your accident was no accident at all.”

He nodded. “I do know this.”

“Why would Colonel Burwell think a lad was target practicing? Why would anyone do that so near the foxhunt?”

He cupped her face and smiled. “My dear, you worry overmuch. Please do not fret any longer. With you by my side, nothing will happen.”

“Promise?”

“Your love will be my shield, I assure you.” He ended with a kiss, praying in his heart that within time he would believe his own words.

Chapter Thirteen

Shadows teased throughout the room. Shapes appeared on the wall from the moon’s glare, slicing between small openings on the curtains. William halted his footsteps. The shadows played with his imagination and sent prickles of trepidation dancing up his spine. Floorboards creaked outside the hallway. He spun toward the closed door and listened.

Nothing.

Only the fierce beating of his heart pounded in his ears, making him re-think his purpose for probing through Colonel Burwell’s study. William had to accomplish his goal tonight, for in the morn he and Mercedes would return home. And what kind of Sons of Liberty member would he be if he didn’t bring back incriminating information?

Assured he was the only one in the room, he took an awkward step toward Colonel Burwell’s desk. Without his cane, walking proved more difficult, but he refused to bring along that hindrance. True, it helped him move better, but it would also make more noise on the hard-wooden floor.

Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead, his body reminding him of his still weakened condition.
Oh Lord, make me strong.
William’s purpose tonight was to find a way to help his fellow men—to fight for his freedom and living his religion as he saw fit.

He swallowed hard, wiped his moist brow and proceeded to search through the papers littered across the open desk. A map, a letter, any correspondence with England, any information that would help the Sons of Liberty in their fight for freedom. He had to resort to the dim moonlight streaming in from the slit of the curtains to decipher the words. Carefully, he held up each paper, each document until he could read what was on them. With an irritated grumble, he threw them down.

Where else could he look? The colonel certainly didn’t keep military secrets in his bedchambers. Besides, Gabe assured him the study was where the colonel conducted his business.

The Philadelphia Gazette caught his eye, and on closer inspection, a certain section was circled in heavy ink. Closer to the light, he read, and it looked to be some letter from an anonymous writer. He didn’t have time to read it now, so he folded it in fourths, and stuffed it in the waistband of his breeches.

Outside the door, the floorboards creaked again. He swung in that direction. The doorknob turned slowly and fear caused his heart to sink. Under no circumstances could he get caught in Colonel Burwell’s study.

As carefully as his awkward leg could maneuver, he lowered himself to the floor and rolled toward the curtains, hoping to hide himself within the thick layers of material sweeping the ground. Once situated, he lifted a portion of the curtains and slid underneath. Not the most perfect covering, but it would help in the mostly darkened room.

He held his breath, afraid to breathe. Although he didn’t see a lantern in the room, carefully calculated footsteps came toward him. It wouldn’t be a servant, for they would have had a candle to light the way. Even Colonel Burwell would have brought some light into the room. So who was it? Another spy?

The footsteps drew nearer. What should he say if he were caught? Could he blame it on sleepwalking? Probably not. Especially since he hid under the curtain. Maybe he could claim to be delirious from the pain in his leg. Yet lately, he hadn’t been in much pain. But no matter, he couldn’t get caught. The end result would be his neck stretching at the end of a rope.

When the prowler crept by him, mere feet away, a gentle breeze floated underneath the curtain and touched his moist brow. In the dark there was no way to tell who it was.

Suddenly, the footsteps came to a halt very near his side. He held his breath, and the burning ache in his lungs intensified. Squeezing his eyes closed, he prayed for strength—and for a way out.

“William? Are you here?”

The sweet, quiet voice of his wife drifted to his ears and he released his breath in one big gush. He rolled from underneath the curtain and bumped into her feet. A small squeal came from her, but she clamped her hand over her mouth.

“Yes, Mercedes, I am here.”

She crouched to his level as he straightened. Up this close, he was able to see her through the shadows.

Her hands found his and clasped tightly. “What in the devil are you doing?”

“
Shhh
,” he coaxed softly. “We must not be heard.”

“William,” she began quieter, “what are you doing here?”

“Now is not the time for explanations. Help me stand. We must leave.”

He leaned on her for support and struggled to his feet. With his arm around her shoulders, he lifted himself up beside her small frame. The effort made his leg throb. He gritted his teeth. They needed to get out of the study without being detected.

“Did anyone see you come here?” he whispered in her ear.

“No.”

He stopped as they came to the door. Peering out into the hall, he surveyed the area, listening for noises. After a minute of silence, he tugged on his wife’s arm and they entered the corridor. Although he limped, he still tried to keep his steps planned and soft while gnashing his teeth from the pain.

The stairs were difficult, but they made it without much noise. By the time he stumbled into their bedchambers, his leg burned from excruciating pain.

“Quickly, help me to the bed,” he commanded in gentle tones. “I cannot stand to be on my leg one more minute.”

Once she helped him onto the mattress, she lit the lantern, bringing only a small amount of light into the room. Her expression was hard as she stared at him, her lips narrowed and thin and her brows creased.

“William Braxton, what in devil’s name were you thinking?”

“Apparently the walk around the house did not a thing to strengthen my leg.”

The harsh tap of her foot and her folded arms confirmed she didn’t believe his excuse.

“Then explain to me why you were in the study with the door closed, hiding under the curtains at three in the morning,” she snapped.

He studied her beautiful eyes, glazed with distrust. Now was not the time to lie to her. Not after he’d fallen in love. He patted the space on the bed next to him. “Come sit next to me. I need to tell you the truth.”

She remained standing for a few seconds as different emotions played across her features. Slowly the anger lines around her mouth and eyes disappeared, but she didn’t smile. It tore at his heart to see her this way. Would she approve of his activities? Would she stop loving him because of their different beliefs?

As she sat on the bed, he took hold of her hand. “For a couple of years now, I have been a member of the Sons of Liberty. We are a large group of men fighting to end British rule.”

Her blank expression remained the same. “I have heard of them.”

“Then you know what I am about.”

“Yes. But what if it means going to war?”

“This is our life, our homes, our families, and our religion. Britain is still trying to govern us. This is not freedom, Mercedes.”

“You know you are talking about my beloved homeland?”

“Yes, which tears me apart inside. But I am also thinking about my people and my family.” He squeezed her hand. “And you are a part of my family. I am thinking of our future and the future of our children.”