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XVII

I t was several days before Amanda saw Eric again. Although she pondered his words endlessly when she was awake, it seemed that she was often exhausted in those first days. Danielle assured her that producing live, healthy twins was no easy task and that she deserved her rest. And in those days, countless gifts came to her, from the Comte de la Rochelle, from Benjamin Franklin, and even from the young king and queen. Marie Antoinette sent her Flemish lace christening gowns, as beautiful and opulent as the Palace of Versailles. While she was still abed, the twins were taken to be baptized, in an Episcopal ceremony, although the French royal court was devoutly Catholic. Though no one dared say it to Amanda, infant mortality was high, and so the ceremony was quickly arranged. Danielle stood as godmother to both infants, while Amanda was delighted to have Ben Franklin stand as their godfather.

By the end of a week she was feeling much stronger, and though she had been offered a young wet nurse by the court, she was determined to care for both of her babies herself. It was trying but greatly rewarding, and she could not forget for a moment how deeply she had feared that she would never have children.

Now she had two, precious beings who still brought her to awe. She never tired of searching over their little bodies, of counting fingers and toes, of studying their eyes and their hair and their noses and chins, trying to decide just whom they resembled. “I shall show you some of your ancestors!” she promised. “There’s a huge gallery with rows and rows of Camerons! You shall see, and then we shall decide!”

They were way too young to smile, but still, she thought that Jamie, especially, watched her with very grave eyes. His father’s eyes. They already had a tendency to look cobalt at times, silver at others.

She had her infants…and she had Eric. And he had even said that he loved her, that he had always loved her. But could it be enough? He had come for her—but she was certain that he still did not trust her.

And he stayed away from her. He came to see his new son and daughter, she knew, for Danielle always informed her. But he did not wait to see her when she wakened. She didn’t know where he slept at night, but there Danielle assured her too. He was across in the comte’s room, and the comte was in his eldest son’s quarters. And Eric was not often around, Danielle continued, because he had been entrusted by Congress and General Washington to take messages to the French ministers. He also spent hours with Mr. Franklin.

They would leave for home on the first of April. Eric would arrive in time to fight during summer and fall—if the fledgling country survived so long. Sometimes it terrified her that she would be bringing her children home to a land of bloodshed.

The twins were a full two weeks old when she awoke to find Eric in her room, rocking one cradle while seriously observing Lenore. Amanda felt her eyes upon him and he turned to her. A misty shield covered any emotion, but his expression seemed as grave as Jamie’s was often wont to be.

“We still leave on the first of April. I hope that is convenient for you.”

She nodded, wishing that he had not caught her so unaware. Her hair was tousled, her gown was askew, slipping down from her shoulder. She had wished so badly that she might be more dignified, more perfect, more beautiful. He had said that he loved her. And they were so distant still, strangers who met between the explosions of cannon balls and the clash of steel.

She slipped out of bed and went to him, touching his arm. “Eric, maybe we shouldn’t go back.”

“What?” He swung around, amazed, staring at her hand where she touched his arm. Her hand fell.

“I was just thinking—maybe we should stay here. In France. We could survive. We would not need so very much—”

“Have you lost your very mind!” he asked her.

She backed away from him, shaking her head. “I am afraid! Look at the strength of the British army. They can keep sending men and more men! They have Hessians and Prussians and all other kinds of mercenaries. The colonies—”

“The United States of America,” he corrected her very softly, his jaw twisting.

“We cannot pay our own troops!” she exclaimed. “Eric, if we should lose the war—”

“We?”

“Pardon?”

“You said ‘we,’ my love. Are you part of that ‘we’? Have you changed sides, then?”

She exhaled, mistrustful of the tone of his voice. She felt at such a disadvantage, clad in the sheer silk gown, tousled by the night, barefoot. Eric towered over her in his boots. He was dressed fully in his uniform with his cockaded and plumed hat pulled low over his eyes, his breeches taut about his muscled thighs, his spring cloak emphasizing the breadth of his shoulder. She trembled slightly. He would not come to her now—indeed, he did not seem interested in her—but she wished suddenly and desperately that she could sweep away the time and the anger and the hatred and rush into his arms, just to be held.

She forced a cool and rueful smile to her features. “You have called me a traitor. Well, sir, if I was for the British, then I was not a traitor at any time, unless that time should be now. Am I for the colonies now—excuse me, the United States of America? Yes, I am. And no thanks to you, Lord Cameron. You haven’t the gifts of persuasion that Mr. Franklin so amply possesses. I should very much like to see the Americans win. It’s just that—”

“That you doubt that they can, is that it?”

She flushed and lowered her head slightly. “I have never known quite what it was to love with the need to protect until these last few days. I am afraid.”

Eric was quiet for several seconds. “As far as I know, madame, the British have yet to make war on children. I have to go back. You know that. You’ve known where I stand, and just how passionately, from the very beginning.”

“And you knew where I stood,” she reminded him softly.

“I just never thought—” He broke off, shaking his head.

“What!” Amanda demanded heatedly. She knew what. He had never thought that she would take it so far as to betray her home. “I have told you that I did not—”

“Let’s not discuss it—”

“If we cannot discuss it, then we’ve nothing at all to discuss!” she cried.

He stiffened. For a brief moment she thought that his thin control upon his temper would snap, that he would wrench her into his arms, that he would demand her lips as he had been so quick to do in the past. She prayed silently that he would touch her.

He did not. He bowed deeply to her. “I leave you to the care of our children, madame. Remember that you must soon be ready to travel.”

***

It was not so difficult to leave behind Versailles, no matter how beautiful it was. Amanda had never really entered into the inner circle of the court, but she had made friends, and she would miss them. Most of all, though, she would miss Ben Franklin, who would stay on in France until his mission was completed. He hugged her warmly when the party bundled into the coaches that would take them to the port.

“Ah, I do long for home! But then, my dear, I am too old to be a soldier, so this is how I must serve. God with you and yours in all your endeavors!”

She was going to cry, Amanda thought. Mr. Franklin had offered her a quiet and steady friendship when her world had been awry, and she would always love him for it. She kissed his cheek impulsively and climbed up into the coach with Danielle and the twins. One of the babies was thrust into her arms, and she sat back, listening as Franklin said his good-byes to Eric, giving him the last of his communications homeward to Washington, the Congress, and his daughter.

Amanda heard the crack of the whip, and she realized she was leaving Versailles for good. It hurt to leave Mr. Franklin and the comte, who had been kind, but that was the only pain. A raw excitement was already burning in her heart. She was very eager to go home. The soft whisper of the river already seemed to sound in her blood. She could feel the salt against her face, the heat of the summer’s day; she could see the leaves in the autumn, falling with their beautiful and brilliant colors upon the leaves and the water. She could see the stables and the smokehouse and smell Virginia ham. Please God, she thought, let it be there when we return! Let Cameron Hall still stand!

It would stand, she thought. Eric had told her that the British were threatening the north—they had been, at least, away from southern shores.

He did not ride in the carriage with her, but chose to ride a horse alongside. Nor, even during the long journey to reach the water, did he tarry with her long. When they stopped for an evening meal and a bed for the night, he ordered her a room and had food sent to her and Danielle and the twins. It was Jacques who saw to her welfare most often. And each time Jacques approached, he stopped to admire the twins, never touching the pair but watching them with such a poignancy about his eyes that her heart seemed to catch in her throat. Amanda would wonder what tragedy had touched the man’s past to cause such a look in the eyes.

By the fifth of April they were upon the open seas, heading for home with a steady wind. Amanda and the twins had been given the captain’s cabin. She assumed that Eric had chosen to take the first mate’s berth and that the first mate was in with his fellow officers. She felt very well this trip and was eager to walk the decks. Unfortunately, the crew aboard the ship was composed of many of the same men who had discovered her last June with a sword in her hand. While none of them seemed to harbor her any ill will, Amanda still felt awkward around them. Eric was captaining his own ship and, once again, keeping his distance from her. She tried to remind herself that he did not trust her and that she had every right to despise him for his treatment. But again she could not forget that he had said he loved her, and she could not rid herself of the pain of the estrangement. She wondered about him by night. She lay awake and she wondered about his life, the life she had never known, the life of a soldier. She knew that women followed the armies, some for love and some for money, and she wondered how he had spent his time, if he had managed to forget her frequently in the arms of another. She hated the thoughts. They tormented her again and again.

It anguished her, too, that now, when things should be so very fine between them, he drew a greater distance from her daily. He might have claimed that he loved her, but any man who could so thoroughly ignore his wife must have some interest elsewhere. Determined to taunt him, she took to spending her time on deck. Jacques was her friend and would always listen to her, and Frederick, who had accompanied Eric, seemed quite adept with the sea for a printer-turned-soldier. One evening she had managed to gather quite a group about her as she described some of the very outlandish fashions of the French and Italians at Versailles. Then someone started singing:

“Yankee Doodle went to town, A-riding on a pony, Stuck a feather in his cap, And called it macaroni!”

They were all laughing when Frederick suddenly sobered. Amanda looked past the group of men to see that her husband was standing before them, dark and towering and very silent. In the night his eyes were ebony and condemning and she was glad of it, for she was ready for a fight.

“My love, I hear whimpering from the cabin. Shouldn’t you be about the babes?”

“But they sleep, my love, I am quite certain,” she returned.

“I say that I have heard crying, and I ask, milady, that you see to it,” he said harshly, his eyes narrowing.

The air, the night, seemed charged. This time it seemed that all these men who so loved and admired her husband were on her side. Amanda came to her feet, smiling sweetly. “Please, please, gentlemen, do forgive my husband’s horrid lack of manners. I quite often do myself.”

With that she swept by Eric, hoping that traces of perfume would haunt his clothing where the silk of her own touched him. She even hoped that she had soured his temper, but he did not follow her. In dismay she realized that the next days followed as the first had done. They were halfway across the ocean, and still, except for an occasional meal with Frederick and Jacques and others in attendance, he did not speak with her all.

The twins were her delight. The sea air seemed to do wonders for them, and when the days were warm, Amanda brought them to the deck. The crew, hardy hands one and all, acted like fools before the babes, clucking, making faces, vying for attention. Amanda, holding Lenore, laughed at one mate’s antics and looked up, searching for Eric. She discovered him not far away, his eyes upon her, pensive and dark. She flushed. He did not look away. “Isn’t she clever, Eric? I could swear that Lenore smiles already, and it has nothing to do with bubbles in the belly!”

He smiled at last. “Aye, my love. She is clever indeed. Like her mother.”

Amanda did not know what the comment meant, and so she turned away.

Soon they were approaching Virginia. Eric often ordered her curtly belowdecks then, for he was wary of British schooners. Frederick told her that they had battled and seized two British warships on their trip to France. “His lordship hoped to catch on to that Lord Tarryton or Sterling, but alas…” His voice trailed away as he remembered that Nigel Sterling was her father. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but they did invade Cameron Hall—”

“There is no pardon necessary, Frederick. Two ships! You battled two ships?”

“Aye, lost only three of our crew, one wounded, two dead, and sent them packing down to Charleston with skeleton crews in place. Lord Cameron promised General Washington that he would take a ship or two, he did, that’s how he gained the time to come to France. And he won’t be wanting to have any run-ins with the Brits now, not with you and the little lad and lass aboard!”

Amanda thanked him for the information. She knew that they would make Virginia by the next night. That evening when the twins slept she left them in Danielle’s care and went atop the deck, seeking out Eric. She saw him at the rail, staring out at the sea and the stars and the night, a tall, rugged silhouette against the velvet patina. Inhaling sharply, she touched her hair, stiffened her spine, and walked softly toward him. She had not quite reached him when he spun around, his hand reaching for his sword. He relaxed when he saw her, and she realized that he was ever ready for a fight now that the war had become a part of his living.

“What is it, Amanda? You should be below. The night is cool, and we are in dangerous waters.”

“Virginia is not so dangerous. You have said so yourself—that is why you are allowing me to return.”

“Tell me what you want, and get below.”

“For one, my lord, I am not one of your servants to be ordered about!”

His lip curled with a trace of amusement. “You are my wife, and still suspected by many to be a traitor, and therefore your position is more precarious than that of any of my servants.”

“Then perhaps, Lord Cameron, I will not care to live in your abode!”

“What?”

She shrugged extravagantly. “Sterling Hall still stands, I do believe. I can take my children and go home.”

“The devil you will, madame—”

“Lord Cameron!”

Eric’s words were interrupted as the lookout shouted down from the crow’s nest. “Lord Cameron! Warship off to the left, sir! She’s flying England’s colors.”

“Be damned!” Eric swore, spinning around. “Frederick, the glass! Gunners, to your stations. Can you see her up there, mate? How many guns is she carrying?”

“Six portside, milord!”

“I can take her,” Eric muttered. “I don’t dare run, she’ll follow us home.” He spun around, suddenly aware of his wife again. “Get to the cabin, Amanda.”

“Eric—”

“For the love of God, will you go? Our children are there!”

She started to speak again, but then closed her mouth and turned quickly. She had barely scampered into the cabin when the roar of a cannon was heard.

“Take Jamie, please!” Amanda said to Danielle. Lenore was already awake and whimpering. Amanda swept her daughter into her arms. Seconds later the ship shivered and trembled.

“We’ve been hit!” Danielle called.

Amanda hurried to the window, drawing back the small velvet drapes. A ship was just coming along hard broadside. A cannon boomed again. Amanda gasped. A direct shot had hit the ship that was almost upon them. The force of the explosion and fire sent her flying back. She landed hard, trying to protect Lenore as she fell on the floor.

There were screams and horrible shouts. The British ship was going down, but those crewmen who had survived the blast were coming aboard. Amanda closed her eyes against the clang of steel and the sound of musket shot. She huddled on the bed, holding Lenore tight. How long could it go on, the horrid, horrid war! How many times could Eric fight—and himself survive?

Eventually the sound of battle began to die down. Amanda walked toward the cabin door, trying to hear. There was nothing. She hurried back to Danielle, thrusting Lenore into her arms along with Jamie. “I’ll be back.”

“Amanda, you come back in here! You were surely told—”

“Danielle, shush, please!”

It didn’t matter, Amanda was already out the door. She paused, choking as powder filled her lungs. As she hurried along the deck, she stepped over the bodies of fallen men, redcoats and patriots alike. She rushed on, suddenly horribly frightened. There was so much silence!

When she came around to the helm, she heard the fighting again at last. It was down to one-to-one combat, the British navy men highly visible in their colors. She looked frantically about for Eric. He was engaged with a young sergeant. Suddenly another man came up behind him. Eric swung around in time to avoid the blow to his back, but the second opponent had caught his sword, and the silver rapier went flying down to his feet.

Amanda screamed, then raced forward. “Amanda!” She heard the roar of his voice as he stepped toward her, grasping the helm rail, staring down the steps to her. He didn’t seem to care that he could be skewered at any moment, his concern was for her.

She caught his bloodied sword up in her hands and raced toward him. He clutched it from her hands, his eyes meeting hers. Then he thrust her behind him and set to dueling his opponents once again. He seemed to move on clouds, agile and able, always a superior swordsman. And always he kept her behind him, until he leapt forward suddenly, catching the sergeant with a quick thrust, then slicing the second man as he rebounded from the first. With a groan the second man slumped to the ground.

Eric looked from the men to her. He touched her cheek, wondering. “I told you to go to the cabin.”

“I did go to the cabin.”

He smiled. “Madame, you were supposed to stay within it.”

“I might have saved your life.”

“Indeed, my lady, perhaps you did.”

“Lord Cameron!” Frederick called, limping over to them. “The English ship is sinking, and there are live men afloat out there.”

Eric’s eyes remained upon Amanda’s. He smiled. “We must pick them up. They go to the brig, Frederick, but by all means, we must pick up the living!”

Frederick turned to go about his task. “Will you go back to the cabin now?” Eric asked her.

She nodded, smiling, and turned around.

That night was so very different from that long-ago June day when she had been forced to accompany Robert Tarryton. Now she was heartily cheered by all of the ship. The maids and servants and craftspeople and artisans hurried down to greet the ship, eager for a glimpse of the Cameron heir. Eric held the twins up high, one in each arm, and accepted the congratulations of his servants, slaves, and dependents. A coach awaited them. Amanda returned to the house alone—Eric had the business of the British prisoners to deal with and more. Her heart caught as they approached the house, and then she seemed to grow warm, and tears burned her eyes. She loved the place so very much! She hoped that it would not be awkward there, that enough of the people knew her and loved her well enough to understand that she had not betrayed them.

“My lady!” Richard, too excited to be staid, came running down the steps, eager to snatch away one of the twins. “Two! Two! Why, we’d no idea. Of course, we’d no idea at all until Lord Cameron sent word. I do declare, milady, but the lad looks like his father did! Just alike. And with a mat of hair upon his head too! But then, who knows, we cannot tell until the wee ones have grown a bit, eh, madame? But you must be weary, come, come along now!”

Amanda smiled, following Richard. When she entered the hallway she saw that Margaret was standing on the stairway, very still and very white. The servant lowered her head and hurried down the steps. “I’ll leave, milady. I needed me wages, so I waited here working, but I’ll leave—”

“Margaret, you needn’t leave. No one need leave. You thought that I had betrayed this hall—I can only swear to you that I did not. If you believe in me, you are welcome to stay.”

Margaret was crying. “Thank you. Thank you, milady. May I tell the same to Remy?”

Remy had actually spat at her. Amanda ground her teeth. How could she condemn the servant when her husband still did not believe in her?

“Yes,” she said softly. “Remy may stay.”

Before Margaret could start thanking her again, Amanda hurried on up the stairs. Richard came along, and Danielle with Lenore. Richard showed her to the nursery—the room that had once been hers had been cleverly converted with a basin and drawers suitable for the blankets and tiny garments of a babe, and a beautiful bassinet with mosquito netting draped about it. “There’s two, milady, you needn’t fret! There’s been twins before, there will be twins again, I daresay! We’ll have the second down in no time.”

“That’s fine. I shall take both babies in with me for a while,” Amanda assured Richard.

“Yes, milady. And may I say welcome home. We’ve missed you, we have!”

She smiled. “Yes, Richard, you may say so. Thank you.”

Amanda brought the twins in with her to nurse, and when they had become sated and slept, she called for Danielle. By then both bassinets were ready. The two women set the babes to sleep for their first night in their own home.

When she returned to her own room, she discovered that Richard had sent her a steaming tub, with French soap and huge snowy towels and a silver tray filled with wine and plate of ham swimming in honey and raisin sauce with fresh green beans and summer squash. She smiled with gratitude, then she shivered slightly, remembering how like that last night things seemed.

Still, she sipped the wine and sank into the bath. There had been no such luxury over the nine weeks it had taken them to return. When she finished she stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in the towel, drying her hair before the fire. Then, with her towel swept around her, she sat at her dressing table and started to brush out her hair.

And it was then that he entered the room. In his boots, breeches, and open-necked shirt, he stepped into the room and closed the door. Amanda turned slowly around to meet his gaze. He strode slowly across the room until he came to her. Then he lowered himself upon one knee before her and touched her shoulders. His hands moved slowly over and around her breasts, and the towel fell away. She caught her breath, wishing that she were not so eager for him. But firelight danced in his eyes, and in her own, and with a poignant ache she realized that it had been a year since he had touched her. She could not protest what she desired with all of her heart, and if things were not perfect between them, she was still his wife. And she was here once again, in the room they shared. No matter what his words, no matter how he fought her, she could see and feel the heat of the desire about him, and instinctively she knew that he had never wanted another woman as he wanted her.

“Perhaps I should go,” he told her. “Maybe I’ve no right to be here, madame.”

She swallowed, alarmed at the strength of the sensations that swept through her at the simple soft stroke of his fingers upon her swollen breasts, rolling lightly over the dusky rose of her nipples, stroking again the under-flesh.

“I have waited for you,” she told him solemnly.

“And I have been the worst fool in the world, and if you had sent me away, lady, God help me, there is no way that I could have gone.”

He stood and scooped her up into his arms. When he lay her down upon the bed, he paused and looked over the length of her. An soft explosion, a curse, a cry, escaped him, and then he was upon her. He had never touched her with such care, with such tenderness. His touch stirred her, his kiss aroused and awoke her, and as his lips and fingertips and tongue traveled and caressed the length of her, whispers, then moans, escaped her. He drew her ever upward, and when she thought that she would cry out and beg that she could bear no more, he would gently ease her just slightly downward again, his tongue delving soft and vulnerable flesh.

And when he came to her she did cry out, shuddering, holding tight, winding her limbs about him. The need to be with him was so great, the strength of his body so shocking, that she nearly whispered all that she felt. She almost told him that she loved him. But just in time, she bit back the words, and she cried out her longing instead and he dove and swept within her, becoming the world, searing her soul, taking all of her, and bringing everything of life, and just a little bit of death.

There was no time for them. Perhaps that was the most bitter fact that she seemed always to have to face. Eric was gone all the next day, seeing to the estate, the planting, the horses, the building, the repairs. They did not even have dinner together, but Amanda waited, and when he came to her, she welcomed him with her body silken, her arms eager to close about him. They made love until it was nearly dawn, holding tight.

In the morning it was time for him to leave again. It was the middle of June, and Eric had been away from the war a long time. Virginia was peaceful enough, but the British offensive was moving in the northern states, and there had already been several battles.

As usual, Amanda stood on the steps, ready to watch Eric ride away. He was upon Joshua, ever the excellent horseman, exceedingly handsome in his uniform with his plumed hat, high boots, his hair still damp. Amanda approached him with the stirrup cup, for it was tradition now, and as he returned the cup to her, she met his eyes with her own wide and grave upon his. “I never did betray this hall, Eric,” she told him.

He leaned down to kiss her lips. “Care for them, Amanda. For the twins. And if anything happens to me, fight for this place. With whatever you have. It is their heritage.”

He kissed her again. Tears flooded her eyes, and she stepped back. He was riding away to war again, and though he might love her, he still did not trust her. He did not believe her, and he was telling her that if the war was lost, she was to keep Cameron Hall by any means available—including a plea to the British should the master of Cameron Hall be hanged.

She watched the horses ride away. “I do love you,” she whispered aloud. But there was no one to hear.

In December she sat upon the rail at the paddocks watching Jacques put the yearlings through their paces. Danielle came running down the pathway from the house, waving her arms frantically. As she leapt off the fence, alarmed, Amanda quickly felt her worried frown slip into an incredulous smile.

Damien was coming close behind Danielle.

Amanda let out a shriek of pure pleasure and raced madly along the dirt path until she pitched hard into her cousin, crying and laughing, shouting his name, crying and laughing all over again. He scooped her up and swung her around and held her close, and at last he set her down.

“My God, how are you here?” she demanded.

“One furlough in how many years?” he teased. Then he sobered. “There aren’t many furloughs these days,” he said grimly, and her heart thundered hard.

The war was not going well, she thought. “Come on into the house. Look at me, I am a disaster!”

“They say you run one of the finest estates in Virginia,” Damien said dryly.

Amanda shrugged, walking up the back steps to the house. “Come into the parlor and have a brandy.” He was looking ragged, she thought. His brass buttons were not shining, his boots barely seemed to have soles, and his coat was nearly threadbare. “Damien! I cannot believe it!” she cried, and hugged him all over again.

In the parlor she served him brandy and felt his eyes upon her. Seated casually in a chair before the fire, he lifted his snifter to her. “Amanda, you are thin and lithe and more beautiful than ever. Your features are ever more delicate and refined. You thrive, cousin, even as a matron.”

“Matron!”

“Well, you are a wife and mother of two. And I am most eager to see my new relations. God knows, there are few enough of us!”

“The twins will be down soon, Damien. Danielle will bring them when they awake. Tell me, what is happening? How is—how is Eric?”

Damien leaned forward, frowning. “The war? Let’s see. A young lad named Alex Hamilton is Washington’s secretary now, and doing a damned good job of it. He knows money better than any of those fools in Congress. What else. Ah—we’ve another young man, a Frenchman. The Marquis de Lafayette. He is a volunteer who rides to death with a smile upon his face—and does wonders for our cause. General Washington is wonderfully impressed with him, and I must admit, so am I. The war, let’s see. There have been so many battles! The British meant to split the colonies, you know. Right down the Mohawk Valley. They did not manage that. In April they attacked Danbury—Benedict Arnold held them back. Burgoyne took Ticonderoga in July, but I am very proud to say that he surrendered on the seventeenth of this month. General Arnold again, with some fine help from Morgan’s riflemen. We lost the Battle of Hubbardton, we won the Battle of Bennington. The Battle of Brandywine—your husband was magnificent at that one. Riding that giant stallion of his…few men are better with a sword. Still, Howe very skillfully turned the American right, forcing Washington back toward Philadelphia. General Howe—with the help of his brother, Admiral Howe—has taken Philadelphia now. This winter, cousin, the British will sit in the splendid homes of Philadelphia. Washington is moving his forces to Valley Forge.”

“But Eric—”

“Eric is alive and well,” Damien said irritably.

Amanda sat back, surprised. “Damien, you used to be so fond of Eric yourself! What has happened?”

Distraught, Damien rose and stood before the fire, watching the flames. “I did not care for his treatment of you,” he said simply.

Amanda sighed, clutching the arms of her chair. “Damien, I was betraying him.”

Shocked, Damien turned around. “What?”

She didn’t want to distress him further, but she had to tell him the truth. “Not when the British came to destroy the supplies here, someone else is guilty of that, and someone will betray the Virginians again unless Eric does believe me and look elsewhere. But, Damien—” She hesitated just a second and then plunged onward. “Damien, Father used to blackmail me with you.”

“Me!”

“They knew all along that you were running arms from western Virginia to Boston and Philadelphia. First he promised to arrest you and see you hanged. He killed your horse, Damien. Don’t you remember? In Williamsburg.”

“Oh, my God!”

Amanda didn’t look at him. “Then you were his prisoner. He promised me that there were all manner of things he could do to you.”

“Oh, Amanda!” He came to her, kneeling down, taking her hands into his. “My God, I am so sorry! I did not know! How could you risk so much for me?”

She touched his cheek. “Get up, Damien. I love you, remember? We have always had each other, and besides, it is all over now.”

He stood and walked back to the fire, and she realized that he was hesitating. “It isn’t really over,” he said at last.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you should be with your husband this winter.”

“But—”

“Martha always comes to stay with George when he settles into his winter quarters. And you—you need to come.”

“I haven’t been asked,” Amanda said stiffly. “I don’t think that he believes me yet.” She sighed. “I know that he does not completely trust me, no matter how far it seems that we have gone. God knows, I might betray something were I to be there!”

“You need to be there!” Damien persisted.

“Why?”

Damien stuttered and then cleared his throat. “Anne Marie is there.”

“Anne Marie Mabry?”

“She has followed her father to war. And she cooks often for Eric. And—”

“And what?” Amanda demanded.

Damien lifted his arms and dropped them. “I don’t know. But you need to be there.”

She felt as if giant icy fingers gripped her heart and squeezed, and then she felt an awful fury rip through her. How dare he judge her when he…

Anne Marie had always cared for Eric. Always. Amanda had known that the night she had first met him.

The cold, and then the heat, settled over her. She tried to breathe deeply. If he meant to have another woman, she told herself, he would do so. She could not walk with him everywhere.

She could not force him to love her.

But she could discover the truth of it, and if he was determined to have Anne Marie, then he would not have her at home waiting eagerly for his return!

“I—I think that I will accompany you to Valley Forge, Damien. When you’re ready to go.”

He smiled. “That’s my darling, daring cousin. What of the babes?”

How could she leave them? Danielle would care for them. They were old enough now to eat food, and though it would hurt her, she would find a wet nurse. They would be well. She would be the one to be empty without them.

“They will be fine here,” she assured Damien softly.

He smiled again. “Well then, I am glad that you will ride with me. We should leave within the week. I’ve some business in Williamsburg…and then there’s Lady Geneva.”

“Lady Geneva?”

“Cousin, even I was destined to fall in love.”

“With Geneva!”

“And why not?”

Why not, indeed? Geneva was beautiful, sensual, and perhaps just right for Damien. “No reason. How long has this been going on?”

“Affairs of the heart move slowly in wartime, Mandy. And sometimes quietly. This, as you call it, has been going on for several years now.”

Amanda started to laugh. Damien cast her a hard warning glare and she laughed all the harder.

“Amanda—”

“I am delighted, Damien. Absolutely delighted. And a week will be fine. I need time to leave the twins and time to gather supplies to go. I cannot imagine that they are overly endowed with food and blankets for the winter.”

“Hardly,” Damien said dryly, then smiled. “Laugh away at me, then, cousin, if you will! I shall be eager to see the show once we arrive.”

Amanda sobered quickly. He winked her way, taking full advantage of his own turn to be amused. He lifted his brandy glass.

“To the winter at Valley Forge!”

Neither of them was quite aware yet of what those words would mean.