Page 6

IV

“I don’t believe you!” Amanda gasped, stunned. And of course, it had to be a lie. Still reeling from the impact of Robert’s words and actions, she was afraid that she was going to be sick. She hurt, as she had never hurt before. Her sense of betrayal was already complete, yet now she was discovering that not only Robert but her father had turned from her. It could not be true. Her father had not let her go her way so freely and so far to turn her over to a rebel! She backed away from him, shaking her head. “Sir, you are a liar!”

He arched a brow and though he maintained a pleasant enough countenance, his silver-blue eyes narrowed sharply. He didn’t like being called a liar, no matter how nonchalantly he stood. “No, I am not, milady,” he said softly, and his gaze rested upon Robert. “Lord Tarryton, my warning stands. And as you are a man affianced, perhaps you should be casting your attentions upon your future bride.” He paused, pointing a finger at Robert. “Go. Now.”

“Amanda,” Robert said, appealing to her. “We can discuss this later—”

“Discuss this!” she cried. “No, Lord Tarryton, we will never discuss—this. Or anything else, for that matter. You fool! I loved you!” she whispered.

“Amanda, I do love you, I tried to tell you—”

“Lord Tarryton!” Eric snapped. “This is a touching scene indeed, but under the circumstances…”

There was a deadly note of menace in Eric’s voice. Robert stiffened and walked past Amanda and Eric without another word. Amanda listened to his footsteps falling upon the earth as he disappeared, then she spun around on Cameron.

“I’m sorry that you were hurt. I’m afraid that Lord Tarryton’s engagement has been common knowledge for quite some time now,” he told her. “I suppose you hadn’t heard the news at your aunt’s.”

“I am not hurt, Lord Cameron,” she lied. She wanted to die on the spot from the humiliation and the pain she was experiencing. She hated him. She hated him more than she hated Robert, because he’d witnessed her humiliation.

“Lady Sterling—”

She did not want his help or his compassion. She wanted to be alone, she wanted to rage and cry in private. “Get away from me, sir, for you are far more heinous a man than he. You’ve no right here, you’ve no business here—”

“I do beg your pardon, Lady Sterling.” Now he sounded cool and dangerous. “I did not intend to spy upon you, but I heard your cries of distress and assumed that you wanted assistance.”

“Assumed—”

He sat down on the bench before the Venus statue, idly watching her. “Tell me, did I interrupt you rather than rescue you?”

It took several seconds for the meaning of his words to sink into her mind. And when she grasped their full meaning, she was furious. In a sudden rage, she flew at him, but he stood immediately, catching her arms, securing them behind her back and pulling her very close. She struggled against him wildly, determined to free herself at any cost. Desperate, she tried to kick him. He slipped a foot against her ankle and she started falling. He deftly preceded her to the ground, rolling beneath her so that when she fell, his body took the brunt of the force. Then he rolled swiftly, and she was caught beneath him again, staring up at him exhausted but ever more furious, yet her breath coming so quickly that she could not speak. She gritted her teeth and he laughed, but there was an edge about the sound and she wondered just how amused he was. “I warned you,” he told her quietly. “You struck me once. I will not allow you to strike again.”

“Don’t you dare laugh at me.”

“Why, milady, I wouldn’t dream of doing so.”

“Let me go!”

“Are we understood?”

“Lord Cameron, I am quite certain that I shall never understand you!”

“Perhaps you should make an effort to do so.”

“Get off me.”

“Milady, your every wish is my command.”

He leapt to his feet, but she found no freedom, for his hands were upon her own, drawing her up against him.

She tossed back her head, staring up him, longing to do serious battle again, yet painfully aware that she could not win. Praying for composure, she held still with her chin high, her hair tumbling and rippling down her back and seeming to burn like a slow flame in the moonlight. Her eyes sizzled and she spoke as softly as he, with every bit as much of an edge.

“I’m demanding, Lord Cameron, that you let me go. Or perhaps you imagine that I’m really dying to remain in your arms too? Can I dare hope that some other man is otherwise engaged elsewhere in this maze and will come to my rescue?”

He laughed, and it was an open, honest sound. It brought back strange feelings to her, causing a cascade of warmth to rush through her. Geneva’s words came back to her. The most arresting man in the colonies . And she felt his arms acutely. They were strong arms, well muscled, like the steel of a blade. His body was hard and vital, and his thigh was pressed tightly against her own. Her breath came quickly, and she longed to escape him.

“Milady,” he told her, “you have not lost one bit of your aristocratic hauteur. You had quite an abundance of it as a child, you know.”

“And you were a very rude child, and now you are a very rude adult, Lord Cameron. You’re not only a traitor, you’re a brute.”

“This is a subject, mam’selle, with which I think that you should take extreme care.”

“Your activities—”

“I am no traitor but a man of convictions. And a brute, milady? For seeking to save myself from your very tender touch? Alas, I should stand still, and allow those feminine claws of yours to draw blood. That is what you seek tonight, isn’t it? Blood, milady?”

“You’re sadly mistaken. I seek no vengeance upon anyone.”

Still, he held her close. His fingers wound tight around her wrists, and his words whispered like the breeze against her lips. She could almost feel the brush of his lips. The lace of his shirt and the satin of his surcoat lay against her bare flesh where the mounds of her breasts rose daringly above her bodice, and she was uncomfortably aware of the feel and texture of the fabric and of the warmth of the man beneath it.

“Tarryton is a fool.”

“How dare you judge him!”

“Any man who would cast aside such exquisite beauty for mere wealth is a fool.”

“You’ve no right to judge him!”

“Ah, but he didn’t exactly cast you aside. He meant to have love and money.”

She tried to kick him again. He dragged her down upon the bench, laughing again. “Careful, milady! I’m striving not to be a brute, but the role of knight is difficult to play when you are so determined to cause me pain.”

“You are causing me great pain!” she retorted. Drawn upon his lap, she was in a very awkward position. He held her hands still, and though his touch was easy, she was still his prisoner. There was no doubting that.

“I’m so sorry. As I said, my wish is really only to fulfill your desires.”

“Oh, you lie!”

“But I don’t lie, milady!”

“I’ll never, never marry you, so any point you wish to make between us is quite moot.”

“Alas! You crush me!” he said with mock despair.

He was not in the least crushed or broken, but every bit amused. Things had not changed at all. He still viewed himself the adult, the master of the world, and her but a child playing willfully within his realm.

Except that now he touched her differently. He held her tightly. And she was all too aware of that hold. The scent of flowers was all around them and the moonlight played over his striking face, which reminded her of the fine statues in the Venus garden. His features were like those of Mars, or Apollo, hard cast and striking, as was his smile. She wanted to wrench away from him, and then again, she was struck with the startling and dizzying desire to learn more about him. She trembled already. If he touched her lips with his own the way that Robert had done, just what was it that she would feel?

“Let me go,” she said swiftly. “Now.”

His smile deepened. He knew, she thought with sudden panic. He knew exactly what she was thinking, and he was both amused and challenged. He was holding her ever closer, but now just one of his hands secured her wrists and the other moved upward to her cheek.

“I could scream!” she threatened in a whisper.

“Scream,” he suggested.

But she did not. The softest little whimper escaped her as his lips touched hers. They brought with them an incredible heat that consumed her. There was no hesitance about him, just sweeping determination and power. He offered no subtlety, he asked nothing, but demanded, his tongue plunging against the crevice of her lips with an intimate surge, breaking through the barrier of her teeth and sweeping her mouth with deep and sensual effrontery. She felt the breath of him and the scent of him, and she was filled with everything that was intimate about the man. She freed her hand to fight him, and found that her palm fell against the breast of his frock coat, and she was achingly aware of even the feel of the material there. She was trembling. She should be fighting now for dear life and honor, yet she was locked in his embrace, and could not begin to find the power to pull away. His kiss was an invasion, a subtle rape of her mouth, and yet his touch was so overwhelming that she could do nothing but absorb the sensations. Tears stung her eyes, for she was somehow aware that the magic of the night was over. Innocence was gone. She had fallen in love, she had believed in a man, and she had believed in love. And she had been spurned. And now she was discovering that she could still be touched, that she could feel, that she could rage and despise a stranger and still fall prey to the demand of a kiss, to tremble and shake in the arms of the enemy.…

She pulled away from him at last, gasping and horrified. Her fingers flew to her swollen lips, her arms wrapped protectively about her chest. “St-stop!” she charged him. She rose and backed away, hating him and hating Robert with all of her heart. She would never, never love anyone again, she vowed silently. And certainly not this man who now watched her with such striking curiosity in his silver eyes. He did not breathe hard, he did not shake or tremble. He was, at least, no longer amused, for his gaze was hard and grave upon her.

“Stop!” she repeated, still shaking. “You are in truth no better than he!”

“Ah, but I am, you see,” he said softly as he stood. “I can offer you an honest proposal of marriage, and he cannot.”

“Marriage!”

“Yes, marriage. The legal type of arrangement.”

She ignored the taunt. “You are a rebel, a rogue, and a backwoods adventurer, sir, and I cannot begin to take such an idea even remotely seriously. You are the last man that I should ever wish to marry. You thought that you could frighten me and bully me in Boston; well, you cannot do so here! You must know what I feel for you, and I cannot begin to wonder what it is that you can possibly feel for me.”

He laughed. “Your father took my offer very seriously. And as for my feelings, why, I am enchanted.”

She flushed and stared up at the stars. “You are no better than Robert. You are ruled by lust.”

She saw the hint of his smile. “Lust? Your word, milady, and so I will admit to a fair amount of it. But perhaps I see more. A heart that drums a different beat, eyes that dare the very devil.”

“And are you the devil? So goes your reputation, Lord Cameron.”

“No devil, lady. Just a man in lust.”

Amanda moved back, hugging her arms more tightly about herself, wondering if his agreement with her father could possibly be true. All of Virginia’s society, or their society at least, was up in arms against Lord Cameron. Although Cameron Hall was a magnificent estate, and he owned endless acres of cotton and tobacco and produce, and had a pedigree that went back to the Dark Ages, dissension was in the air, and he was turning his back on his own kind to join up with rebels.

“I don’t believe you!” she whispered again, but she said it more quietly. “My father did not—agree to a marriage!”

“Milady, I do not lie,” he told her. He walked toward her, and she wanted to turn and run. She hated to be a coward, but at that moment she wanted to run, and still she could not. It was not courage at all that kept her still, it was something about the way he looked at her.

He stopped several feet before her and reached out gently. She thought that he was going to sweep her into his arms again, but he did not, and for the life of her, she did not know if she was relieved or disappointed. She could not breathe properly, and it seemed that the very masculine scent of him was not just around her, but part of her, and that she would never forget it or forget his power. He touched just her cheek, his knuckles running over the softness of it, his hand then falling to his side. “But neither shall I force the issue. If you are adamantly opposed to me, milady, then the matter is solved. However, I do suggest that you think carefully before accepting Lord Tarryton’s…proposition.”

Heedlessly she tried to strike him again. He was quick, catching her hand before it could land upon him. He turned her wrist slowly, drawing a finger over the valley of her palm, then pressing his lips against it. Her breath came in a rush and her heart pounded and again. She wanted nothing more than to escape him and the sensations of his touch.

“I told you, milady, you may not strike me again.”

She smiled very sweetly. “Being a loyalist’s mistress might be preferable to a life as a traitor’s wife.”

“Really? I think that you’re sadly mistaken. About yourself, Lady Sterling, if nothing else. Young Tarryton is a boy, playing at a man’s games. He isn’t for you. He’ll never be for you. He desires you, perhaps he even loves you. But he hasn’t the courage to fight for you, milady, and in the end you would be sadly disappointed.”

“Oh, I see. I’d never be disappointed in you, I presume?” she challenged him sarcastically.

“No,” he said. “You would not be disappointed in me. Had I set out to seduce you, milady, it would never have come to attempted rape, and in the outcome, I promise that you’d have been mine.”

She opened her mouth to protest with outrage, but she never spoke. He did touch her again then, hard and sure. He drew her against him and his lips found hers. She whimpered and pounded furiously against his chest, but he paid her no heed, and he gave her no quarter. His mouth closed upon hers with swift, searing hunger and his tongue penetrated deeply against her protest, filling her with a warmth that consumed all thought and reason. She whimpered and pressed herself against him, feeling dizzy and almost falling. But it didn’t matter, for as he continued to kiss her, he held her weight with ease. She thought briefly that he would never let her fall, and she realized that the overpowering heat that exploded throughout her emanated from some searing center of her being that had come alive tonight. It was unlike anything she had ever imagined before, this hot excitement that stirred her blood and swept from her lips to her breasts, and from her breasts to some secret place within her, near the juncture of her thighs, wickedly deep within her.

And then, abruptly, he released her, a negligent smile upon his lips. “You should marry me, milady, because I do believe that I could promise never to disappoint you.”

“I would fight you all of my life!” she exclaimed out, and then realized that it was she who still clung to him. She needed the support.

“You would fight me, but you would not be disappointed by me. Now, milady, if you’ll excuse me, I shall leave you to your own devices, since you are so capable.” He let her hand fall and bowed deeply to her, turning about to leave the maze.

Shaking, Amanda determined to have the last word. “You are a traitor, Lord Cameron! A traitor to the king, a traitor to your own kind!”

He turned back around, bowing deeply. “As you would have it, milady. Far be it that I should argue with your gentle tongue.”

He turned again and was gone.

Amanda sank down upon the bench, feeling the pressure of her tears come rushing to her eyes. She pressed her hands against them, determined not to cry. She was trembling still. He had awakened things inside of her, things she had never dared to dream of.…

And things she now despised.

She hated him. She had hated him in Boston, and she hated him now! How dare he come upon her so highhandedly again. He had known about Robert—dear God, all the world had known about Robert, all the world but she!

She touched her swollen lips, and all that she could remember was Eric Cameron’s touch. Yet it was true, the magic was gone, love was gone, and her belief in things beautiful and good and right was gone. Innocence had been cruelly slain, she thought, and then, despite her best intentions, tears did start to fall down her cheeks. Robert! How could he? How could he speak of his longing and desire for her and then tell her that yes, he did intend to marry the Duchess of Owenfield?

How could he suggest that she become his mistress?

Amanda wiped the tears from her cheeks and forced herself to stand and smooth down her gown. She dusted bits of leaves from her skirt and swallowed hard and touched her fingers to her hair.

She had to go back. She had to lift her head and smile and return to the house and be her father’s most gracious hostess, and she had to laugh and dance and be certain that no one ever knew what had taken place in the Venus garden.

“Amanda!”

Hearing her name called, she leapt to her feet and forced a smile to her lips.

“Damien!” she called in response to that well-loved voice. She knew her cousin would quickly be upon her, for he knew the maze as thoroughly as she did. They had often played there as children. “Damien!”

He came through the last row of hedges, bewigged and handsome, looking fabulously elegant. He knew his appearance was quite proper and perfect, and he paused by the Venus statue to pose for her quickly. “The ultimate gentleman, the lord of leisure!” he said, then he laughed and raced toward her, and she threw herself into his arms.

“Damien! You’re back. I thought that you were staying in Philadelphia with your brother and that the two of you had been larking about from Boston to New York. And it frightens me when you and he are apart for I am ever afraid of what trouble you will find!”

He shook his head, and it seemed for a moment that sober thoughts clouded his dark handsome eyes. “I am ever quick to avoid trouble!” he vowed to her, then laughed. “I heard that Lord Sterling was hosting a ball, and I came quickly, thinking that my dear sweet cousin might need me.”

Amanda pulled away from him, watching his eyes. Then she sighed softly. “So you knew too. All the world knew about Robert and this Duchess of Owenfield except for me, and, therefore, I made the most horrible fool of myself.” If she wasn’t careful, she’d start crying again.

“Amanda, he’s not worthy of you,” Damien told her swiftly. Setting an arm about her shoulder, he led her to sit down on the bench.

She smiled up at him lovingly. “Perhaps not, but I loved him, Damien. So what do I do now?”

“Forget him. There will be other men to offer for you, to love you—”

“Well, I’ve had the offer!” she said, and laughed bitterly. “But not the love. It was quite astounding. Lord Cameron appeared on the scene and offered himself.”

“Cameron!” Damien repeated, startled.

“Aye, the traitor. My night is beset by betrayal, so it seems, for Father had told him yes!”

Damien stood, hooking his thumbs into his waistband as he paced before her. He swung around and looked at her. “He’s been quite the bachelor, Mandy. You know that. Mamas have thrown their daughters at him for some time now, and he has never shown the least interest. You are deeply honored, you know.”

“You like him!” Amanda accused. “You were good friends in Boston, or so it seemed, but, Damien, you must take the greatest care! You know that the man is a traitor.”

Damien hesitated a long time, looking at her. “No, I do not know him as a traitor, cousin.”

Amanda gasped, leaping up to catch hold of his shoulder. “You can’t mean that! I…I know that he is guilty of evil deeds, I have seen him in action. And he follows the words of fanatics, of fools—”

Damien shook his head, watching her sadly. “I do not believe that these men are fanatics or fools, Mandy.” She stared at him blankly, and he suddenly gripped her hands with excitement. “In Philadelphia I met with the writer and printer Benjamin Franklin. I—”

“Benjamin Franklin? The newspaper man? The fellow who puts out that Poor Richard’s Almanac ?” Franklin lived in Pennsylvania; his yearly book on weather and forecasts and sayings was like a bible to men from Georgia to Maine, and even up into the Canadian colonies.

“Yes, Franklin. Benjamin Franklin. He’s considered a great man these days there, a wise man indeed.”

“He prints insurrection, I take it.”

“You’d love him, Mandy.”

“Oh, Damien! You frighten me. I do not like the company you keep. Franklin wants war.”

“No! No man wants war. But if you listen to these people, you’ll come to understand.”

“Understand what? We are English. We must pay taxes for English defense! Come, Damien, think on it. Without our fine English soldiers, what would we have done during the French and Indian Wars? Our militia was sad and pathetic! Scant defense!”

“Not so scant!” Damien protested. “Why, it was only what our colonials learned about Indian warfare that saved us then. George Washington was a volunteer with the British regulars when General Braddock was overtaken by the French and Indians, and it was young Washington who saw the troops back to Virginia. And Robert Rogers’s rangers out of Connecticut were so adept and disciplined that they became part of the regular British army.”

“British reinforcements saved us in the end, and it was a horrible and long bloody war. Without the Crown forces we would have been lost, and you know it.”

He looked at her. “A Continental Congress is due to meet in Philadelphia this September to protest the closing of the port of Boston and other ‘intolerable’ acts.”

Mandy exhaled. “I am so tired of this endless talk of war.”

Damien laughed. “Cousin, you weren’t even born when the French and Indian Wars broke out in 1754. And you were a babe of eight when it ended in sixty-three, so tell me, what makes you such an expert?”

She lowered her head suddenly, remembering that it had been in 1763, when the last of the campaigns had begun, that she had first seen Eric Cameron. Lord Hastings had called a hunt just before some of the Virginia relief troops were due to leave. There’d been no reason for young Cameron to go, but his father had already been killed in the fighting and his grandfather had not denied him the right to fight if he chose. He had been young, disdainful, and ardent, she remembered. Determined to fight. Assured, poised…

Abysmally rude to her.

She shook her head. Well, he had come back, and he had been given some officer’s commission. Even though his grandfather hadn’t allowed him to leave with one, he’d earned it on his own.

Mandy shivered. She couldn’t understand war, and although she’d been very young during the French and Indian Wars, she could still remember the tears of the women who had lost husbands, the sons who had lost fathers, the girls who had lost their lovers. And there had been greater tragedy before her birth, when the war had just begun, for the Acadians from Nova Scotia—Frenchmen who had loved their land and stayed with it when it had gone from French rule to British in a previous treaty—were no longer trusted. They were cruelly exiled from their lands and cast upon the shores of Maine and Massachusetts and Virginia. Although some were able to make it into the French Louisiana Territory, many had been forced to seek some livelihood among the hostile English and Americans. There were still Acadians at Sterling Hall, even though her father despised them. She had heard it rumored that her father had slain an Acadian, although it had been at her birth, and she had never known whether it was true or not. She pitied the women, and the beautiful little children, and she had always done her best to be kind to the Acadians who remained with them. Indeed, Danielle was Acadian.

And still men went to war.

They had gone before, and it seemed now that they were growing eager to do battle again, that they might soon be eager to stand before flaring muskets, to allow themselves to be brutally ripped and torn and maimed.

“I’m not an expert on war, Damien, and I don’t want to be,” she assured him. “And I’m very worried about you.”

“No! Ah, cousin, please, for the love of God, don’t worry about me. This is Damien. I land on my feet, always. Remember that.”

“I’ll keep it in mind when they hang you.”

“They’ll not hang me. And they’ll not hang your new betrothed either, love.”

“Betrothed!”

“You said that Lord Cameron proposed—”

“Proposed? No, I did not say that. He burst upon Robert and me with an announcement that Father had agreed to his suggestion that he and I marry. But then…”

“Then what?”

“He was quick to assure me that he did not want me without my consent.” She paused, looking at Damien. “Why would Father do such a thing so suddenly, though? Father is an ardent loyalist. Could it be true?”

“Zounds—”

“Damien, don’t swear.”

“Me! Why, Mandy, when you’ve the mind, you swear like a seaman!”

“Don’t be absurd. Ladies don’t swear. But if I were to swear, I wouldn’t do silly things like turn the words around. I should say, ‘God’s body!’ and that would be that!”

“Tarnation! So you would, Mandy!”

“Damnation—and be done with it!” she said.

“If you weren’t such a lady, that’s exactly what you’d say!” Damien murmured with mock solemnity. But then he frowned in earnest. “Who knows anything about your father? He’s never much liked me, and that’s a fact.”

Amanda frowned. It was true. Damien was the child of her mother’s younger brother, and her father had tolerated him, keeping up the pretense of family, but had never shown him any affection. Michael, Damien’s elder brother, very seldom came near Sterling Hall. He would not pretend to tolerate his uncle, and though Amanda loved Michael dearly, she seldom saw him now for he had moved to Pennsylvania.

“Surely Father does love you—” Amanda began awkwardly, but Damien interrupted her, waving a hand in the air.

“Cousin, I do not mean to be cruel, but I wonder if he even loves you. Never mind, how callous of me. What a horrible thing to say. And still, let’s head into the house, shall we? He was asking about you, and I’d hate to bring his wrath down upon the two of us. And—”

“And what?” Amanda asked quickly as her cousin paused.

“And you need to dance, love. You need to dance and laugh and appear as if you’re having the time of your life.”

“Oh!” The blood drained from her face as she remembered that she had been rejected and humiliated. She tossed back her hair, adjusting the comb over her ear. “Am I all right, Damien?”

“All right? You are entirely beautiful. And we shall kick up our heels and make fools of the lot of them!” He caught her hand and led her quickly through the maze. “Remember when we were children? I loved this place so. You were going to marry a prince, or a duke at the very least. And I was going to kidnap the most glorious Indian maiden and strike out to conquer the world.”

Gasping as she hurried to keep up with his pace, Amanda laughed. But there was pain to the laughter, just as there was pain to growing up. Dreams were like clouds, created only to be shattered by violent, unexpected storms.

She stopped short, just outside the entrance to the maze. She could see the lanterns swaying brilliantly upon the porch, and she could see the silhouettes of their guests through the windows, elegant men, beautiful women with their coiffures piled high and their skirts most fashionably wide. Growing up. It was suddenly very frightening, and she had never felt so old as she did this night. Life was still a game, but it was for higher stakes, and she suddenly shivered.

“It’s all going to change again, isn’t it, Damien?”

“Who knows what the future holds?” he answered her with a shrug. “Come, hold my hand, and we’ll slip right onto the dance floor.”

They scampered up the steps and over the broad porch together, slipping into the house at the end of the hallway. It wasn’t to be quite so easy as they had planned, for Amanda’s father was there, watching them as they arrived.

“Damien!” he said sharply. “I would have a word with you now. And you, girl—” He paused, his voice low and grating as he stared at her coldly. “You I will deal with later!”

“Ah, Lady Sterling!” A voice interrupted. She spun around, recognizing the deep resonant sound. It was Eric Cameron. He bowed to her father. “Alas, your charming daughter and I shall not wed, sir, but she did promise me this dance just minutes ago.”

“Minutes ago—”

“But of course, sir. May I?” He smiled at Lord Sterling and caught Amanda’s hand, swirling her out to the center of the hall where couples were just forming for a reel. The musicians started up and she could not move at first. His silver gaze lit upon her and a daring smile touched his lips.

“Dance, Lady Amanda. You’ve got it in you, I know that you do. Toss your head back with that glorious mane of hair and cast one of your dazzling smiles upon me. Laugh, and let the whole of the world go to hell. They are whispering about you, and your scandalous behavior, rushing into the maze with an engaged man. Gossips and old hags. Let them know that you don’t give a halfpenny about their opinions.”

“What makes you think that I have ever cared about their opinions?” she countered. His hands touched hers, and suddenly they were swirling to the music.

“Perhaps you don’t. But you do care about your pride.”

“Do I?”

“Immeasurably.”

“Enough so that I should not be dancing with a known rabble-rouser?”

“Rabble-rouser? Ah, milady, I’ve not nearly the eloquence necessary to sway the populace!”

“They talk of you from here to the nether regions, Lord Cameron. How can you say that?”

“You haven’t heard the real speech masters, milady. They rouse the heart, and that is where change lies, madame. Not in arms, and not even in bloodshed. Change lies within the very heart and soul of the people.”

“So you do seek war.”

“No one seeks war.”

“You are infamous.”

“Perhaps, but as I said, I haven’t the eloquence to move worlds, milady.”

She shivered suddenly, not knowing why. He was scarcely a humble man, yet his words caused her to feel chills.

Someone walking over her grave.…

Or perhaps a warning. As if she would live to see the day when she would depend desperately upon his eloquence and his ability to sway the masses.

Never. He was the traitor.

“You are a liar, a knave, and a scoundrel.”

He laughed, lowering his head near hers, and she realized that all the room was watching them. “Am I all that, milady? Pity, for I felt that you fit so very well with me. And of course, I’m even daring to believe that you might realize it one day—once your heart recovers from its bruising.”

“I shall survive, but I shall never discover that I fit well with you, milord.” She smiled sweetly, and they swirled with an ever greater vigor about the floor. His eyes never left hers, and with each step she felt more fully the heat of the summer’s night, the sizzle of fire, as if lightning storms raged outside. His confidence in himself was outrageous, yet even thinking of his kiss, of his touch upon her, caused her breath to catch, her heart to thunder, and she realized there was one thing about him she could not resist—he was exciting. He infuriated her, and if she cared for nothing else, she did long to show him that she would never be beaten.

“Ah…careful, smile sweetly! Lady Geneva has her eyes upon us.”

“Perhaps she is jealous. Didn’t you recently share a dance with her?”

“Recently, yes. But I’ve never proposed marriage to her.”

“I see. But perhaps you have made other proposals to Lady Geneva?”

“The green eyes of jealousy, love?”

“I’m not your love, and my eyes are green by birth, milord.”

“Lady Geneva makes her own proposals,” he told her softly, and she almost wrenched from his hold, for she knew then that they had been lovers, and she was furious that she should be so bothered by the thought.

“I’m quite exhausted. May we cease this mockery?”

“Alas, no! Chin up, eyes bright, ’tis be damned with the world, remember?”

“‘Tis be damned with you, sir, and if you’ll excuse me—”

“Ah, but I won’t.”

And he did not. He held her close, and she was captured with the dance. Swirling and spinning, they passed by the other dancers, her hair and her gown flying out about her, making her a vision of beauty and fire in the night, on the arms of the tall, dark man. He twirled her from the dance floor out onto the porch, and then he had her laughing, for he did not quit then, but deftly brought her leaping down the steps and onto the lawn. Once there, he continued to swirl her beneath the moonlight. She cast back her head, smiling, for he was right about one thing. She longed to throw all caution to the wind, to show the gossips that she would do as she pleased, that she was not spurned and she knew no pain. He saw her smile, and some knowing glint came to his eyes.

“A temptress and a hell-raiser, milady? Shall we show them that life is to be lived to the fullest and that passion is its own master?”

“You are a hell-raiser. I am no temptress.”

“Ah! I beg to disagree!”

“Do you, sir? Amazing, but I do not see you begging at all.”

He smiled. “A matter of speech, milady.”

“Humility is surely your greatest virtue.”

“However you would have it, Lady Sterling, however you would have it.”

And then suddenly they were dancing no more. They stood beneath the moonlight. His mouth was hard and unsmiling. His eyes were as piercing as a silver blade as they stared down into hers.

“There are whispers upon the wind, Amanda. Harsh whispers. Should you need me, know that I will be there.”

“I will not need you!” she promised. But perhaps that was not so true, for even though the night was warm she was already shivering, and despite the entire debacle of the evening, she longed to cast herself into his arms and feel their warmth and security about her. And yet, she thought, for all the lightness of his words, this man would be no gentle master, but one determined upon his own cause. A woman who loved him was bound to be mastered by that iron will and determination.

No! she thought. I shall never lose my heart or my soul to one such as he! The pain that she felt this night was one thing. She realized that being entrapped by the fierce passion of this man could cause an anguish she could not begin now to fathom. The strange sensations touched her like mist, making her feel uneasy and hot. The strange tingling seized her body once again, dangerously touching places that it should not.

“You—you cannot love me, you don’t even know me!” she cried.

“I know a great deal about you,” he told her, and he smiled again. “And don’t forget—I am in lust with you.”

“You wish to best me! That is all. I have not fallen amorously into your arms, as others do too easily. You like to win, before you step upon your conquests. Well, you shall not win against me, sir.”

“Perhaps not. I’ll consider it a challenge well met.” He was silent for a moment, then he indicated someone over his shoulder. “It’s an interesting evening. Your lost love is consoling himself, I see.”

“What?” Amanda swung around, stunned to see that Robert had come to the porch.

With Geneva. And they were close together in an intimate embrace. She had cast her arms about his neck. Her head was back and her laughter was throaty. And then she was kissing him.

Amanda gave not a thought to the night, the world, or propriety. Blindly she cast her arms about the man before her and came up high on her toes to press her length against him. Instinctively she arched against him, curling her fingers into his hair and then pressing her lips against his. Tentatively she pressed her tongue against his teeth.

And then the world seemed to explode. His mouth gave way, and he was not in her arms, but she was in his. She was barely upon her feet, swirling in the moonlight again, and his tongue raked her mouth as if it invaded the very soul of her and reached with his searing liquid fire to touch her heart. He laid his hand upon her breast, and something moved in her to that touch, something that pulsed with curiosity.

With desire.

“Oh…” She gasped against him, when his mouth lifted from hers at last.

He held her still, swept off her feet, in his arms. She stared up at him in the darkness and saw his slow rake’s smile just touch the corner of his lips as he spoke seriously. “Did that suffice for what you wished, milady? I do believe you’ve struck fairly in return. The poor dear fellow is on the porch. I’m afraid he’s just about ready to trip over his tongue. Shall I release you and ease his agony? Or do you wish to heap more torture upon him? I am ready to oblige you in any manner you choose.”

“Oh! Oh, you bastard!” She gasped. “Set me down! This instant.”

He started to do so. Instantly. She nearly fell flat and managed to save herself only by clinging to his neck.

“Lord Cameron—”

“Yes, love. What is it now? I never seem to be able to please you.”

“That’s because I absolutely despise you.”

“Ah, then I shall look forward to the kisses you will give when you’ve discovered that you love me.”

“Kisses! I shall spit upon your carcass when they’ve hanged you!”

“Shh! Careful, he’s coming close. With Geneva upon his heels. Ah, and there is Lady Harding! Amazing how many of your father’s guests have discovered that they need a bit of fresh air. Slowly now, slide down against me.” He carefully set her down. She was against him still, yet it was a very proper position, with his arm just about her as he escorted her in the moonlight. She stared at him furiously, but she didn’t fight him. She didn’t want to face her father with any more whispers of scandal raging about her.

“You will be made to pay one day,” she promised him pleasantly.

“To pay? Why, milady, I have desired to do nothing the whole night long except to ease you from any difficulty you encountered. You do have a vengeful streak within your delicate soul. Perhaps, when we are married, I shall have to beat it from you.”

She started to jerk from him and she saw the laughter in his eyes. “Perhaps I shall marry you, just before they tighten your noose. I understand that your property is very fine.”

“You must visit it. Come to Cameron Hall any time, milady. Or if you’re in Williamsburg, you must be my guest, whether I am in attendance or not. I shall leave word with Mathilda that you are welcome any time. Ah…here comes your father. He is looking for us, I think.”

He raised a hand. Nigel Sterling stood upon the porch, his hand stuck into his frock coat. He saw Eric Cameron’s wave and started down the steps.

Amanda did not like the speculative look within her father’s eyes. She did not like his glance upon her, colder than usual.

“There you are, my dear, Eric.”

“The night was captivating. Not nearly so captivating as your daughter, yet the combination of loveliness was one that I could not resist. Forgive me.”

“You are forgiven for being young and enamored, Lord Cameron—if not for other things,” Nigel said. He smiled cordially, but when he gazed at Amanda, she still felt the coldness. “Our guests are beginning to leave, Mandy. Perhaps you will be so kind as to see them on their way?”

“Of course, Father. Excuse me, Lord Cameron.”

He reached for her hand, kissed it. She waited until his eyes rose to hers and she mouthed sweetly, “Good-bye.”

“I’m not leaving—yet,” he returned, arching a brow rakishly.

She pursed her lips, turned about, and fled for the house. Her father remained talking a moment longer, then he followed her, standing by the door while Amanda took a position at the landing of the stairway, by the bannister.

The Hastings and the Hardings were leaving, and Amanda called Danielle to fetch their hats and accessories. She was thanked for a wonderful time, and she kept her sweet smile in place, wondering if the ladies were pitying her—or if they were eager to rush home to discuss her scandalous behavior. It didn’t matter. She kept her chin up and her laughter light. No one would ever know just how devastated she had been.

Mrs. Newmeyer left next, thanking her and Lord Sterling for the sumptuous buffet. Smiling graciously, Amanda realized she hadn’t even glanced at the buffet table.

Then Robert was before her, his eyes pained as they stared into hers—as if he was the one who had been betrayed. He managed to draw her aside as her father was caught in a discussion nearer the door.

“My God, how could you!” Robert whispered heatedly.

“How could I?”

“I saw you in his arms. It was indecent.”

“Indecent! Robert, he asked me to marry him. You asked me—no! You sought to force me into something that was indecent!”

“He’ll never marry you,” Robert said harshly.

“Oh?”

“It’s a lie. It’s a ploy. He’s disgustingly wealthy, and you are perhaps an heiress, but nowhere near as wealthy as he. He couldn’t possibly be serious. You’re not—”

“I’m not as disgustingly wealthy? Robert, take your hands off me. Contrary to your belief, not every man longs to awaken with wealth alone on the pillow beside him. Now leave me be.”

Robert stiffened and turned sullen. Although the pain of betrayal and shattered dreams was still with her, she was startled by the discoveries she was making. She did not like this side of him.

“You won’t marry him. He’s a bloody patriot.”

“Patriot? I believe the word might well mean many things. And I do intend to marry him.”

A slight cough interrupted them. Amanda swung around to see Lord Cameron. His eyes were alight with amusement and mockery. “Good night, my love,” he said, purposely turning her away from Robert. “I shall return very soon—to discuss the wedding plans, of course.”

She longed to kick him but she didn’t dare. Robert was still before her. She forced herself to smile. “Good night. My love,” she added.

He bowed deeply. At the door he paused, speaking with her father.

In a fury, Robert swung about and left too.

There were more guests bidding her good night. She longed to escape to her room, but she held her ground and maintained her smile.

Damien was the last to leave for his home, an hour north of his uncle’s estate. She kissed him and agreed to ride to Williamsburg with him soon. Then Damien said good night to her father.

“Yes. Good night, young man.”

They shook hands, and Amanda thought that Damien had been right—her father did not like him. She clenched her hands behind her back, wishing that he would not be so obvious.

The door closed. Danielle stood quietly before Lord Sterling, lowering her eyes. “Is there anything else, sir?”

Her voice still held a hint of a French accent, and Amanda thought that even that annoyed her father. He looked at Danielle distastefully, even though she was a wonderful servant. She managed the household staff and slaves, and did so very well, and still Lord Sterling never had a good word for her.

Amanda thought that Danielle stayed because of her. She wasn’t sure. Danielle’s husband and brother had died in the cargo hold of the ship that had brought them to Virginia from Port Royal, Nova Scotia. Her tiny daughter had died in that same hold.

“No. You are dismissed.”

Danielle turned to leave. Lord Sterling quickly shifted his gaze from his servant to his daughter, and the cold distaste remained in his eyes.

“And for you, girl.”

“What is it, Father?” Amanda said wearily.

“Come here.”

She was somewhat surprised by his tone, but too weary to fight him. She strode across the room to stand before him.

“Yes?”

She was stunned when his hand lashed out at her, catching her across the face with such violence that she fell to her knees, her head reeling. She screamed out in her surprise and pain. Danielle, barely out of the room, heard her cry and came rushing toward her.

“Stop!” Lord Sterling commanded Danielle. “It will be a whipping for you. You are dismissed.”

Danielle paused, then continued forward. Crawling to her knees, Amanda raised a hand to stop her. “I’m fine. Danielle, tu peux t’en aller maintenant .” she urged her in French.

Her father seemed to hate even the language. His eyes darkened further with displeasure as he stared down at her. “Don’t you ever go against my word. I made arrangements. You broke them.”

“What?” Amanda said, amazed.

“Lord Cameron has informed me that he is not interested in a marriage that is not desirable to you. I will make the arrangements for your life—you will not.”

“No!” she cried. This night, which she had hoped would be a night of magic, had turned into a nightmare. “You cannot make me marry, Father! I do not believe this. I—”

“Don’t worry. Lord Cameron no longer wants you.”

“You cannot make me marry anyone!”

“When I so choose, you will marry. You will not disobey me, or else you will learn the persuasion of the lash. Now go to your room. Get out of my sight.”

She stood, facing him, feeling her cheek swell while tears rushed to her eyes. “I—I hate you!” she whispered to him.

And to her amazement, he smiled. With pleasure. “Hate me to your heart’s content. But you bear my name, and you will obey me. Now go to your room.”

She turned and fled up the stairway. More than anything in the world, she wanted to escape the sight of him.

When she reached her room, she slammed and locked the door and leaned against it, gasping for breath.

Then she burst into tears and fell on her bed. What sin could she have committed that was so grave that she should deserve the agony of all that had happened this night?

Magic had died.

And even in her misery she was dimly aware that the nightmare was just beginning.

The world was changing, her whole world was changing. Winds of change were sweeping over the land, and no one, no one at all, would be able to stand against them.