Part 10 (1/2)
She finally glanced up at him, her amber eyes like the sun setting in a dark horizon. Will had noticed yesterday that her eyelashes were extraordinarily long, but being blonde they were hardly noticeable. However, with the early morning pale light cracking its way through the windows and her rosy candle, her eyelashes looked like two lovely wings over her brown eyes. By G.o.d, but she was beautiful.
”You usually would have a schedule, wouldn't you? If I weren't here?”
He slowly nodded, noticing and relis.h.i.+ng the fact she had yet to release her hold on him.
”What would you normally do?” Her voice sounded husky.
”What we did yesterday. Since Admiral Howe and the Continental Congress have met, we are preparing for...” He rethought telling her about the soon-to-be battle. But he had wanted to tell her. It was odd, but he wanted to share everything with her. However, he was sworn to secrecy about the coming attack, so he said, ”There is little for my men to do, other than our daily drills.”
”And reconnaissance.” After saying as much her eyes widened, alarmed.
He narrowed his own eyes, wondering...Lord, she could be spy. He wouldn't put it past the Continental Congress to send such a seductress into his fortress. They were surprisingly conniving and savvier than many British leaders gave them credit for. He'd met Benjamin Franklin once, at a salon in London, where he'd gotten to hear the American talk about science and reforming hospitals so everyone was granted a doctor. Franklin had spoken quite adamantly about having a public hospital, one that could specialize in mental disorders. It was whispered that Franklin's own nephew suffered from a brain disease, hence the push for a public hospital specializing in what was considered an affliction of the will, or even demonic beings playing havoc on a soul.
Knowing Julia as well as he did, Will never thought she suffered from a lack of desire to not have her visions, nor from any evil cause. She had been an angel. Well, before her visions bested her, she had been. But even when her hallucinations clawed through her, he'd seen her heart and knew her to be only sweet and wonderful.
”I shouldn't say such things, I suppose,” Erva said, pulling Will back into the room with her, especially when her hand released him. ”I'm too curious.”
”I don't mind your curiosity.” Although he should have. He should suspect her more, but he couldn't. Not when he stared down into her eyes, her hair long and loose and so intimate he ached to run his fingers through her tresses. ”And, yes, I have daily reconnaissance against the Continental Army.”
”Why are you-” She stopped herself again. This time she bit her lush bottom lip and looked away.
”Why am I what?” He should have let her question falter, but he had to know for himself if she were a spy or not. The more questions she asked, the more she would reveal herself.
The anomalous thought flittered through his mind though that he wasn't too sure if he cared if she were a spy or not.
She glanced back up at him, her eyes wide and timid. ”Why are you here?”
That, he hadn't expected. A spy would wonder about his men, his drills, his arms, anything else that mattered to the war. Not a philosophical question about why he was here. But even the reason why he was here could be used against him, if court martialed. He hadn't realized that thus far. Then again, he'd thought he wouldn't have survived this long in the war. In his mind, he would have no reason to be court martialed. He wouldn't be alive for it.
She licked her lips and slightly shook her head. ”I mean, you didn't vote for any of the acts the Americans protested. The newspapers said that you didn't support any kind of action against the Americans. You don't support this war, yet here you are. Why?”
”Why not?” He tried to deflect the conversation.
She narrowed her eyes, no longer looking sheepish but challenging, ruthless, and so lovely. He liked her best like this, shooting faster than most of his men, speaking of sedition to his superiors, the Howe brothers. Lord, how he liked it when her eyes caught fire and turned back into dark red-brown honey. His veins pumped his too hot blood through his body.
”Why not, hmm?” She gave him a wicked smile. ”Why not, indeed. I think you don't want to be here.”
”On the contrary, there is no other place I'd rather be.”
She blinked, then caught his meaning that standing so close to her was exactly where he'd love to be. Arching a blonde brow, she said, ”You know what I mean, obtuse man.”
He silently chuckled at his new name.
”I think you don't want to be in this war.”
He felt his own mirth leave his face. ”You might be right.”
”Then why are you here? Why do you fight? Especially so efficiently?”
”Do I?”
She growled, making Will grin again. ”Quit evading the questions with your own.”
”Why? This is fun.”
She smacked one of his shoulders, then he caught her small hand in his.
”Is this fun for you too?” he asked, carefully gauging her reaction as he twined his fingers through hers.
She didn't look at their hands. Instead, her gaze was focused on his chest. He especially enjoyed that, as if she found him desirable. Lord, he hoped so, that he wasn't making a fool of himself.
She never answered, but looked up at him, her long lashes batting. He took hold of her candle and set it on a nearby table. In so doing he'd gotten that much closer to her, and just as he was thinking of holding her other hand, she reached up, probably on her toes, and kissed him.
This time he reacted immediately. His lips melded with hers. She tasted strongly of mint, and he licked the seam of her lips to enjoy. She opened for him, and he dove his tongue into her mouth. G.o.d, she was sweet. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he pulled her closer by holding onto her not-corseted waist. Next her tongue was inside his mouth, and he couldn't help but pull her even closer, her stomach against his, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s crushed against his chest.
Will felt Erva fiddle with the ribbon at the nape of his neck, and his hair was released from its hold. Instantly, her hands raked through his mane. It gave him silent permission to finally take hold of her tresses with one of his hands. Pure silk ran through his fingers. He loved her long hair, so wild and free this moment. Like the color of corn silk, Erva's locks were close to white with a light dandelion sheen. He fisted what he held, which tilted her head back, all the better to deepen the kiss. She moaned into his mouth. All his blood rushed south. That little noise was his undoing.
He kissed along her cheek, her delicate jaw, and nipped at her neck. She mewled again and arched more into him. He glanced at her visage, so wrapped in desire, her eyes closed, her lips swollen and dark.
”Oh, Erva, I should have shaved.”
”What?”
”Your mouth...I should have shaved. I'm-”
”I like it.”
He huffed, forcing himself to stop enough to hear her. ”Pardon?”
”I like your whiskers. I like the way they feel against my neck. I like it.”
He growled and kissed her again, loving her response, how she wrapped her arms even tighter around him, pulling at his hair. Knowing that she wasn't wearing her stays was driving him dangerously close to rus.h.i.+ng things. He could feel her b.r.e.a.s.t.s without their confines, and it made his already engorged c.o.c.k even larger. It didn't help that his erection met Erva's stomach, and her breathing kept rubbing his p.e.n.i.s minutely. As he kissed down her neck, he thought of cupping one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He slipped his hand from her waist and slowly lifted his hand, until a knock sounded on the door.
The door swung open with Paul, holding a silver tray, instantly talking. ”My lord, the papers today say something about Lady Ferguson-”
Will pulled said lady behind his aching body, trying to s.h.i.+eld his man of business from seeing her scantily clad, even while knowing his tented breeches would make quite a sight. Paul stared over his shoulder, making Will realize he had seen her and had seen the kiss. Gads, he was standing there half naked while Paul just smirked.
”What about the papers, Mr. Miller?” Will hardly ever called Paul by his last name, but it seemed appropriate given the circ.u.mstances.
Paul cleared his throat, but couldn't rid himself of his grin. ”Ah, yes, the papers write that the Lady Ferguson is quite talented with her song. Already, they give her the nickname of Fergie.”
Erva released a loud giggle, then she gasped.
Paul glanced over Will's shoulder again.
She sighed, then stepped aside him. ”Here, my lord, is that ribbon you asked for.” She pointedly gave him the small black cord that had held his hair back, then stepped toward the door.