Dying Forever (Waking Forever Book 3) (26 page)

“
I think we’re done here.” Duncan Alcock’s voice came from behind the vagrant and Bryce nearly cried with relief.

“Mr. Alcock, thank heaven. I was on my way home -” Bryce gushed.

“Run along, Miss. The
gentleman
and I will work this out.” Bryce’s savior remained behind the other man, cloaked in the shadows of the alley.

Turning around
to face Duncan, the would-be attacker waved a dirt encrusted hand in the air. “Never mind, good sir. I was just ensuring the lady got home okay. These are troublin’ times.”

“Troubling indeed, sir.” Duncan stepped forward. He was easily three inches taller than the other man. His eyes seemed to glow in the darkness of the alley and Bryce
suppressed a gasp, sure her eyes were deceiving her.

Duncan smiled broadly and without looking away from the man, addressed Bryce. “Head home, Miss Whelan
. I’ll ensure this man gets what he has coming to him.”

Still anxious from the quasi
-assault, Bryce had no desire to witness any more violence and quickly turned, running toward the street and safety.

“You’re back early.” Abitha’s voice came from the parlor off the entrance of the boarding house. The room was small, but had one of the larger windows in the house and Bryce enjoyed the diffused light that filled the room at twilight.

In spite of their cool beginnings, Bryce and Abitha had become friendly since the redhead had moved in over a month ago. Bryce had also forged tentative friendships with the other two lodgers, Margaret and Catherine, and the four women had become something of a family to one another.

“I didn’t want the trouble of the check points, so I left a little early.” Bryce put her cloth bag down next to the front door and joined Abitha in the parlor. She had decided not to tell anyone what had happened, for fear it would cause trouble for Duncan should something horrible befall her assailant.

“There’s food on the stove.
Catherine made dinner, so I can’t attest to whether it’s any good.” The woman sat in a tattered, cloth covered easy chair with her legs reclined on a short, leather covered foot stool. She massaged the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

Bryce
looked at the raven haired woman. She had a way of slighting someone without sounding offensive; Bryce wondered if she even realized she was being cross.

Abitha
wasn’t traditionally beautiful by Bryce’s reckoning, but she had a prettiness to her that caught the redhead by surprise. She had scarcely looked at another woman since that horrible night with Hope, but for the first time in nearly a year, she felt the stirrings of desire.

“Are you okay?”
Bryce asked. Abitha wasn’t a particularly talkative woman, but she seemed withdrawn and anxious.

Keeping her eyes closed, her head resting against the back of the chair,
she nodded. “I’m tired.”

Bryce knelt next to the woman. “Can I bring you anything?” Without thinking, she put her hand over Abitha’s and gently stroked the smoothness of the woman’
s skin with her thumb. She was warm and being this close to her, Bryce could smell hints of musk and patchouli.

Abitha opened her eyes,
the brown iris seeming to swirl and glisten as she lifted her hand, entwining her fingers with Bryce’s. “You’re kind.”

A nervous smile skittered across Bryce’s lips. She hadn’t been this close to a woman in months, and she felt light headed and a little foolish for how euphoric the nearness of Abitha was making her. “You seem - sad, so I thought -”

Abitha sat up and pulled Bryce over so she was sitting on the stool in front of her. Taking both of Bryce’s hands in hers, the woman seemed to marvel at them, turning the over so she could examine the palms.

“You’ve had a hard life.” Abitha ran her index finger across the center of Bryce’s palm, sending a jolt of heat up the redhead’s arm. Frowning, Abitha’s eyes narrowed and she
studied Bryce’s palm more closely. “You’re going to have a very long life.” Looking up at Bryce, the woman smiled. “Almost unnaturally so.”

Bryce swallowed. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry
. Her heart felt as if it might beat out of her chest. “That can’t be a bad thing.”

Abitha leaned forward and before Bryce realized what was happening
, the woman’s warm lips were pressed to hers. The tip of Abitha’s tongue pushed into Bryce’s mouth, and Abitha couldn’t stifle the low moan that escaped her.

A quiet cough came from the hall, and Bryce pulled back as if she had been burned. A young man s
tood in the parlor doorway, his face expressionless as he looked at the two women.

“Is supper ready?”
Aaron Lanson was Abitha’s seventeen-year-old son. She told Bryce her husband had died of consumption when the child was only three and left her alone with the boy and a house to manage. Bryce’s heart had ached for the woman, and she hoped her company, along with that of Margaret and Catherine’s, gave the single mother some comfort.

Aaron was a slight boy and
, like his mother, had raven black hair that had a slight curl to it. His eyes were slightly disproportional to the rest of his face and gave the impression the boy was perpetually surprised. The color of his eyes was what Bryce had noticed when she first met him. Their deep, radiant blue gave the boy an almost ethereal quality.

“It’s on the stove
.” Abitha said casually, still holding Bryce’s hand. Without a word, the boy left the room.

“I’m sorry.” Bryce wasn’t sure she had done anything wrong since Abitha had initiated the kiss, but the awkwardness and embarrassment of having her son see them, forced the apology from Bryce’s lips.

“Why?” Abitha tilted her head to the side and studied Bryce closely.

“I mean, Aaron and -”

Shaking her head, Abitha released Bryce’s hands and leaned back in the chair. “It’s not a problem.”

Bryce
’s brow arched in surprise. “He doesn’t mind?”

The corner of Abitha’s mouth turned up as she looked toward the hall. “We each have our own interests.”

Bryce wasn’t sure what the woman meant, but was relieved to not have had a repeat of what transpired at the Atherson house when she and Hope had been found out. “Are - are you fine with it, too?” She didn’t love Abitha, but she was certainly attracted to her and the idea of not having to sneak around only added to the woman’s appeal.

Sitting up, Abitha leaned forward, running her finger lightly along Bryce’s jaw and then down her neck. “You
are
beautiful.”

Bryce’s neck flushed
a crimson red and, not able to stop herself, she kissed Abitha. Cupping the back of Abitha’s neck, Bryce pulled her closer. The warmth of the other woman’s mouth caused Bryce’s body to tremble. She had struggled with her feelings for Hope, and the woman’s secrecy had only added to Bryce’s shame.

Abitha’s openness about her wants and desires stirred something in Bryce. For the first time in her life she felt empowered by what made her different, not frightened by it.

It was April 19, 1775, and Bryce was running late for her work at the Green Dragon. With a light shawl draped over her shoulders, she hurried down the uneven and muddied streets of Boston just before sunset.

Rounding the corner of Union Street, she began to hear raised voices coming from outside the pub. The street was crowded with nearly fifty men and some women and people were being jostled about in the congestion.

“What’s happening?” Bryce asked an older woman who stood cautiously on the outskirts of the crowd.

“The war has happened.” The woman took Bryce’s hand in hers. “The bloody backs are being pushed from Lexington.” Shuttering, the stranger released Bryce’s hand. “They’ll be in Boston soon - by the hundreds!”

Bryce took a step back. Her family was in Lexington, and she had no way of finding out if they were safe. Tears filled her eyes as she feared for their lives.

“Miss Whelan, what are you doing out on a night like this?” Duncan Alcock was standing directly beside Bryce. She started, wondering how he had gotten so close to her without her noticing. It had been a week since the incident in the alley, and she hadn’t seen the man. Now she felt compelled to thank him for his assistance.

“Mr. Alcock, I was coming in for work
. But first, I want to thank you for -”

The man held his hand up, a genuine smile on his face. “There’s no need. I did what any gentleman would.” He reached for Bryce’s hand. “Ladies in distress are my specialty.”

Bryce felt a surge of heat flood her neck and face and for a split second, a light flashed across Duncan’s eyes. Bryce took a half step back, her bare hand still resting in Duncan’s gloved one.

The man smirked. “Go home
, Miss Whelan. All hell is about to break loose. Lock your doors and windows. The British will withdrawal into the city in an attempt to hold it and our boys will give chase.” He looked around the crowd. “The streets won’t be safe.” He reached into the inner pocket of his navy blue, knee-length coat and pulled a small paper card out. “This is my address should you need to call on me.”

Bryce’s brow furrowed as she took the paper from the man’s hand. Their fingers touched, and the coldness of Duncan’s skin sent a shiver up Bryce’s back. Looking at the paper, she shook her head. “I - I can’t read this
, sir.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as he studied Bryce closely. “It’s the white
and gray two story near the corner of Milk and Bishops. Can you find that?”

Nodding, Bryce shoved the paper into her pocket. “Yes, sir, but I shouldn’t think to bother you -”

Duncan frowned. “How is it a bother when I’ve asked?”

Unable to counter the man’s argument, Bryce nodded
again. “Thank you, but I live with several other women - so, I’m certain we’ll be fine.”

A faint smile passed across the handsome man’s face. “It’s an open invitation - should the need arise.”

“Why are you so worried, sir?” Bryce’s curiosity got the better of her and she couldn’t help but speak her mind.

The corner of the man’
s mouth twitched slightly as he looked intently at Bryce. “War is a dangerous business, Miss. Whelan. I would hate to see you caught up in it.”

The answer was cryptic and in spite of Duncan’s reassuring tone, Bryce still felt uneasy about the man’s sudden interest in her well
-being.

“I’ll be careful. Thank you.” She stepped back and
, turning quickly, walked away from the pub and towards the boarding house.

By the time Bryce reached her home, she had nearly broken into a full on run. Cannon shots echoed in the distance and the threats Duncan had
spoken of were quickly becoming a reality. Her hand shook as she slid the key into the front door. Lifting the latch, she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.

Leaning against the wall, Bryce took several calming breaths. The house was quiet except for what sounded like footsteps coming from the second floor. She was rarely in the house during the early evening, but was surprised no one was downstairs eating or even preparing supper.

Dropping her bag near the front door, Bryce walked up the stairs. She needed to find Abitha and ensure she knew the seriousness of what was happening. There was a very real possibility British soldiers would take up residence in the city and a boarding house was an ideal location.

Th
e door to Abitha’s room was cracked. Bryce meant to knock, but stopped when she heard a series of low, throaty moans coming from the bedroom. Peering through the narrow opening, Bryce felt a wave of nausea and heat surge through her body as she stumbled backward.

Covering her mouth, she stifled
a cry, and quickly descended the stairs, grabbed her bag, and rushed out into the street. Her arms and legs were shaking as she tried to force the image of Abitha, Catherine, and Margaret naked, sweaty, and writhing together in Abitha’s bed out of her mind.

Stopping at the corner, Bryce didn’t register the unusual
ly dense foot traffic as people pushed past her, clearly trying to flee the city. Her body was both overheated and numb with shock. An image of the scene shot through her head and without warning, she bent over and heaved.

She wasn’t hypocritical enough to care that Abitha was cavorting with other women, or prudish enough to judge the multiple partners
. What had turned her stomach was seeing a naked Aaron, prone between his mother and the other two women.

The foursome had been lying in Abitha’s bed, countless candles burning in every corner of the room, their bodies covered in what Bryce thought might be blood.
The scene had been unsightly and wicked.

The faint light from the west was fading and Bryce was faced with being on the street
because she refused to return to Abitha’s house. The cannon fire from earlier was louder and she feared what might come of her once the city was overrun with British soldiers.

With few options, and most of her money still in her room back at the boarding house, Bryce began the half mile walk toward Milk Street and Bishops. She would put Mr. Alcock’s offer to the test and
see if he was the concerned gentleman he said he was or just one more disappointment for Bryce.