Less Than a Gentleman (20 page)

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
F
OUR

C
aroline’s eyes slowly focused. Sunlight gleamed off a pile of metal parts heaped on a table. She blinked. Where was she? This didn’t look like her room in the Great House. She breathed in the fresh, clean scent of her pillowcase. It certainly wasn’t the ferryman’s filthy cabin.

She sat up and quickly lowered her feet to the floor.

“Aah!” Something jerked beneath her feet.

“Aah!” She responded with a gasp of her own and leaned back onto the bed, tucking her feet up beside her. She squinted at the moaning man. “Thomas?”

He lay on the floor beside the bed, his knees drawn up, his face red. A hissing sound emerged from his gritted teeth. “
God . . . bless . . . America
.”

“Are you’re injured?”

“Bloody . . . hell, woman. You stepped on me.”

“I—” Caroline noted his hands cupping his groin. “I suppose that hurts?”

The look he gave her indicated she had uttered a gross understatement.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were there. Why are you there? Where are we?”

“Jacob’s house. My bedchamber.” Thomas rolled onto his side. “Dammit. You practically stood on me.”

“I said I was—” She eyed his hands at his crotch. “Must you touch yourself there? It is very distracting.”

He moved his hands, glaring at her. “Then you touch me. I want to know if the parts are still working.”

She scoffed. “Why are you sleeping on the floor?”

“I was protecting you.” He sat up, wincing.

“And why was I sleeping in your bed?” Caroline grimaced, realizing the sun had been up for some time. “Ginny will be worried sick.”

“You didn’t tell her about last night’s mission?”

“No, I thought that was a major point to being a spy—keeping things secret.”

“You’re right.” He eased to his feet.

She noted his feet were bare. And so were hers. His shirt was neither buttoned nor tucked in. His hair was loose about his shoulders.

He picked up his blanket and pillow from the floor and tossed them on the bed. “What will you tell your sister?”

“I suppose I’ll have to say I . . . spent the night with you.” Warmth spread across her cheeks.

“That’s probably for the best. ’Tis true, after all, and you’re not a very good liar.”

Splendid
. Ginny would think she was having an affair. “Are my shoes here somewhere?”

“Underneath the bed. I removed them so you would be more comfortable.”

She glanced up at him and found him staring at her. “And my stockings?”

“I removed them so you would be more comfortable.”

“Then . . . you must have untied the garters?”
On her thighs.
Her face blazed hotter.

“They were too tight. I wanted to make you—”

“More comfortable?” she finished his sentence.

“Yes.”

Thank goodness she hadn’t worn panniers or he would have continued his quest for comfort up to her waist. Was it her imagination or was the blue in his eyes more intense than usual? “And the laces on my gown?”

“I loosened them so you could breathe easier.”

“I see. How thoughtful of you.”

“It was the least I could do.” He shrugged one shoulder. “The point may be moot, since we don’t intend to use the equipment, but in case you’re interested—” He leaned toward her.

“Yes?”

“My male parts are still working. Perfectly.”

“Oh.” Caroline sat still, stunned for a moment, then jumped to her feet. “Well, I should be going now.” She located her shoes with her stockings tucked neatly inside. “Is Jacob here?”

“No. He stayed at the ferryman’s cabin to guard the supplies.”

“Oh.” So she was alone with Thomas and his perfectly working male parts. She unrolled a stocking and motioned to the door by tilting her head. “Do you mind?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You need help?”

“No, I want you to leave.”

“Oh.” He grabbed his shoes and stockings and padded to the door.

Caroline noticed the weapons by the door. “Are these crossbows?”

“Yes, mechanical ones that Jacob designed.” Thomas paused at the door. “If you need me, I’ll be close by.” He exited, shutting the door behind him.

She dashed to the chamber pot in the corner, then quickly pulled on her stockings and shoes. But what about her laces? She couldn’t go back to the Great House with the laces to her gown loose. As much as she hated to admit it, she would need Thomas’s help.

She slipped into the parlor just as he entered the back door with a pitcher.

“I brought you some water.” He poured it into a crockery bowl.

“Thank you.” She washed her face and hands while he put on his stockings. “Could you . . . lace up my gown for me?”

“Of course.” He circled behind her.

He tugged at the laces, and she clutched the edge of the table to keep from stumbling. Every touch of his fingers melted her resolve to avoid further involvement with him. How could she work alongside him when all her senses yearned for him?

His fingers grazed her spine as he tied a bow. “There, you’re done.”

No, she was undone. She eased away from him. “I need to go. Good night. I mean, good morning.”

“I’ll walk with you.” He jammed his feet into his shoes. “I want to see if the supply barge has gone.”

“All right.” She wandered toward the door. “I—I don’t remember very much from last night. I was trying not to swallow any of the rum, but I suppose I did.”

“Aye.” Thomas tied his hair back with a ribbon. “You passed out at the ferryman’s cabin. We brought you back here.” He strode toward her, pulling on his coat.

They strolled along the river path. Clouds gathered thick overhead, blocking out the sun. A breeze rippled the surface of the river. She wondered if it was going to rain.

“Do you wish me to bring you a meal at noon?”

He smiled. “Thank you, but no. I need to meet up with the partisans to tell them where to pick up the supplies we stole. Jacob will be stuck there until they do.”

“I’m glad you’re his friend. He seems so lonesome.”

Thomas’s smile faded. “We have much in common. Caroline, if you ever need your father, you can find him at Snow’s Island, where Lynches River joins the Great Pee Dee.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“This way.” Thomas led her to the grove of loblolly pines. Situated on a knoll, the pines offered them cover and an excellent view of the river and front lawn.

He pulled down a low branch and peered through a window of fragrant short needles. “The barge is gone.”

“Good. Then they never noticed anything was amiss.” She scanned the ground, looking for Edward’s hiding place.

“What are you looking for?” Thomas asked.

“Our musket and horn of gunpowder.” She brushed a pile of needles aside ’til her fingers grazed the cold metal of the barrel. “ ’Tis still here, in case you ever need one.”

Thomas crouched beside her. “A Brown Bess?”

She nodded. “We brought it with us. It seems like a long time ago, though I know it is not.” She scooped up pine needles and heaped them on top of the musket.

Thomas helped her bury the musket and gunpowder. “A great deal has happened in the last few weeks.”

“Yes.” She had sworn to avoid soldiers, to avoid any heartache to do with the war, yet she had become a spy. And fallen in love with another spy.

Sticky resin coated her fingers, and she wiped her hands on the hem of her gown. How could she have allowed this to happen? She glanced at Thomas and her heart stilled. It was too late. He was the one. God help her, she couldn’t imagine not loving him. Her soul cried out for his.

As if he heard her, he met her gaze. Desire flared in his eyes. “Caroline.”

Should she fight it or surrender? It was tempting, so tempting to pretend the war didn’t exist, that they would be safe for years to come. But it wasn’t true.

The ground vibrated beneath her.

“What’s that?” Thomas jumped to his feet and peered through the pine branches. “Bloody hell,” he whispered.

“What is it?” She joined him.

A group of horsemen emerged from the woods across the lawn and galloped toward the front door. Dressed in green jackets, they sported tall helmets that accentuated their tall height. “Who are they?”

“Tarleton and his dragoons.” Thomas turned to Caroline. “He’s known to like the ladies. Stay away from him.”

She nodded. “I hope he doesn’t intend to stay long.”

“The horses look worn. He’ll want to feed and rest them a bit. Damn, is that—” Thomas pulled his telescope from his pocket and peered at the men. “Bloody hell.”

“What’s wrong?”

Thomas cursed softly. “Greville.” He jammed the telescope to its smaller size and dropped it in his pocket. “Dammit. Tarleton will go inside to talk to Hickman, and I won’t be able to hear it.”

“I can do it. No one will think it odd if I go in the house. And I’ll be safe in the secret passageway. They won’t know I’m there.”

Thomas gave her a worried look. “You don’t know how ruthless these men can be. Tarleton is called the Butcher, and with good reason.”

Caroline swallowed hard. “It needs to be done. I’ll tell you what they said later.”

Thomas grimaced. “Fine. I’ll meet you tonight in the passageway. And Caroline—”

“Yes?”

“You’re beautiful in the morning.” He grabbed her shoulders, planted a kiss on her brow, then slipped away into the woods.

“W
ho’s in charge here?” Tarleton demanded as he entered the library. His eyes narrowed on Ezra. “You look familiar.”

Ezra stood at attention. “Captain Hickman, sir. We met before. At Camden.” He glanced at Pugsley, who stood gaping at the famous lieutenant colonel. “Pugsley, take care of our guests.”

“Yes, sir!” The guard saluted and dashed from the room.

Tarleton paced across the library, leaving a muddy track with his boots. “I remember. You’re that . . . Loyalist fellow.” He lounged on the settee, smearing mud on the blue damask. “We’ve been chasing Marion and his pack of traitors all night. God, I’m parched. Pour me a drink, man.”

“Yes, sir.” Ezra strode to the sideboard. “The partisans made a strike last night?”

“Yes. At Georgetown.” Tarleton removed his brown plumed helmet and dropped it on the settee beside him. “The bastards slithered into the swamp like a swarm of cowardly snakes. Did they come by here? Did you see anything?”

“No, sir.” Ezra presented him with the glass of brandy. “It was quiet here. We had a shipment of supplies by the dock. I had five guards posted there all night.”

“And they saw nothing?”

“Nothing, sir. The supplies left this morning without incident.”

“Hmm.” Tarleton took a sip of brandy, then set the glass on a nearby table. “You’ve had no trouble at all with the partisans?”

“No, sir. We’ve been very careful.”

Tarleton rose to his feet. Even without the tall helmet, he towered over Ezra. “The partisans are all over this area. Why haven’t you captured any of them? You wouldn’t be
protecting
them, would you?”

Ezra gulped. “No! I assure you, sir, I am loyal to the king. And I have devised a plan for capturing the wanted partisan, Matthias Murray Thomas.”

“Why him in particular?” Tarleton’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “You want the reward money?”

The reward and the plantation
. Ezra focused on Tarleton’s cold, dark eyes. “I want to serve my king.”

“I always wonder about you Loyalists. Loyal to the king, but willing to kill your neighbors.” Tarleton grabbed his helmet off the settee. “If you discover where the patriots are hiding, you will tell me first. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tarleton stepped close. “You can have Thomas, but Marion is mine.”

T
hat evening, Caroline crept silently down the secret passageway to the china room. She placed her candlestick on the table in the center of the small room. How sad the shelves looked with half the crystal missing.

During the midday meal, Captain Hickman had once again asked Jane the whereabouts of her son. When she refused to answer, he had gathered up some of her prized crystal glasses and smashed them into the fireplace. Then he had announced he would spend the afternoon questioning the inhabitants of the local village. He had returned at sunset, still in a foul mood.

Caroline paced around the table. Poor Jane was worried sick about her husband and son. It was difficult for Virginia, also. With her baby due any day now, she despaired of ever hearing news about her husband, Quincy.

The door to the china room opened. Caroline exhaled with relief when Thomas slipped inside the room. Dressed in black, he moved about like a shadow.

“Did you see the partisans?” she whispered.

“Yes.” He lifted one shutter of the lantern and looked at her. “Your father sends his love.”

“Thank you. Did Jacob make it back home safely?”

“Aye.” Thomas slipped off his shoes. “Did you hear what Tarleton said this morning?”

“He told Hickman that he chased Marion all night, and Hickman claims he has a plan to capture Jane’s son.”

“Indeed. Well, let’s see what the bastard is up to now.” Thomas strode into the passageway and set the lantern on the floor close to the library peephole.

She quickly joined him, then he closed the shutter on the lantern, casting them into complete darkness. When he opened the peephole, a rectangle of light acted as a beacon. She eased closer. He was warm and smelled of soap. When he bent over to look through the peephole, she noticed the wet gleam of his hair. He must have just bathed.

She had remained dressed this evening to help them maintain a business-like relationship. But now, as she tried to sidle up close to him, her skirt and numerous petticoats proved to be an encumbrance.

Voices sifted through the peephole—Captain Hickman and the guard, Pugsley, but she found it difficult to distinguish their actual words. She leaned closer. As intent as Thomas was on the peephole, she hoped he wouldn’t notice that her bosom was pressed against his arm.

When he turned his head slightly, she could feel his warm breath against her cheek. His gaze dropped to her low neckline, then returned to her face, lingering on her mouth. Her lips felt suddenly dry, too dry, and she moistened them with her tongue. He closed his eyes with a pained expression.