Love Not a Rebel (18 page)

“But she is here now. A young lady in a tavern—her reputation shall be forever tarnished!” Washington mused.

“Alone?” Eric asked the innkeeper. “Surely not!” He flashed Washington a wicked smile. “I rather like a slightly tarnished reputation, sir.”

“She is escorted by her cousin, Mr. Damien Roswell,” the innkeeper said.

The men all exchanged sharp glances. Eric shrugged and looked pleasantly at the innkeeper. “Then tell her that
I shall be with her immediately. My every wish is to serve her.”

The door closed and the innkeeper left them.

“Damien Roswell is an ardent patriot,” Henry said. “One who moves in ways that may well be more practical than the rest of us, at the moment.”

“More treasonous ways, the king might well say. I hope the young man has the good sense to take care with his cousin,” Jefferson agreed.

Watching Eric, Washington shrugged. “Perhaps she is fond of him and fond of his policies after all.”

Eric remembered her expertise in removing the bullet from the young printer’s shoulder in Boston. He remembered, too, her fury at her position—following his lead because she was afraid. For Damien.

She was not seeing things their way. Not at all. “Perhaps she is after something,” Eric said.

“Well, you’ll have to see the young lady to find out, won’t you?” Henry suggested.

“Spy upon the spy?” Jefferson laughed, but his eyes were grave.

“There’s nothing for her to discover,” Eric said.

“Is that true?” Washington asked him. “There are some who believe, Lord Cameron, that you are more deeply involved than anyone.”

“Men believe almost anything these days,” Eric said evenly.

“Still, take care,” Washington warned him. “I
speak
as your friend, Eric, and a man who would see you well.”

Eric sat, drumming his fingers against the wooden arm of his chair. “Perhaps you are right. Thank you for the warning, but I always take care. Perhaps I can discover certain truths about the lady—with certain lies of my own.” He stood again and bowed. “And, gentlemen, it will be fascinating, this road of discovery. I am looking forward to it immensely.”

They laughed. “I bid you good luck at the Congress,” he added.

“And we bid you Godspeed against the Indians,” Jefferson said.

Eric grinned and left them. Outside the door, he paused for a moment before heading toward the public room and his unexpected meeting with Lady Sterling.

His smile faded, his eyes went hard. He remembered her hatred for him, and he knew that nothing had changed between them. She thought to use him.

Well, she was welcome to try.

Then he remembered the way that she had looked when he had seen her upon the stairs, and he recalled the way that she had felt in his arms. He tasted anew the nectar of her lips, saw the fire of her eyes, and felt the perfection of her body pressed to his. He had meant to have her, in his own time, in his own way. He had not forgotten for a single moment the excitement of wanting her, the ache she had created within him, nor the raw and relentless determination he would use in his careful pursuit …

But now she was there. And not because of any ardent desire, he was certain. She was playing with fire.

Aye, she played with fire, he thought. But it was her choice, and her game, and by God, he would play it.

And win.

Part II
The Reluctant Spy

VI
  

A
manda was very beautiful that night. Eric saw her long before she saw him, for she was seated at a table with Damien and she was speaking earnestly with her cousin. Her eyes betrayed some deep emotion that was soft and spellbinding. Watching her, Eric realized that he envied her cousin. She loved Damien. And in that moment, as she sat in the flickering firelight, he thought that he would gladly sell his soul and be damned if she would just gaze upon him once so warmly.

He knew he was being a fool and reminded himself that he barely knew the little hellion, but it didn’t matter. He hadn’t needed to know much once he had seen her, once he had touched her.

He was in lust, so he had said. Perhaps that, too, was true. He had been careful to wait, biding his time. He had not expected her to seek him out, and yet here she was. With Damien. He wondered what she knew of her cousin’s
activities. No matter how her heart bled for England, she would never endanger young Roswell.

She had turned down his proposal of marriage, but now she was back. Deviously. What a pity. Her soft smile for him would be a lie. She had come to wage battle, else she never would have stepped foot inside this tavern.

Her beauty was her weapon, and she was not averse to using it, nor did she lack the confidence, he thought, to know the very power of it.

She wore green, a fetchingly casual gown with a heavier brocade bodice that tied with delicate ribbons over her breasts. It was a color that highlighted the evocative depths of her eyes, emphasizing the emerald dazzle of them. The night was warm, but she carried a light shawl, and it draped about her elbows, exposing her upper arms. Her hair had been swept up high in ringlets, and the sleek length of her neck was bare and inviting.

Every eye in the tavern was on her, of course. She looked like a thread of gold in a coat of coarse linen. There weren’t many women in the place, and not one of them could hold a candle to her striking splendor.

He felt himself grown warm, watching her, and it occurred to him that many a man was drooling in his beer. Eric quickly grew annoyed. She shouldn’t be here. Even escorted by her cousin, she should not be out as she was now. She was an innocent, yet there was something about her that was more than evocative. He thought of Helen of Troy and of a face that could launch a thousand ships. Amanda Sterling had that same kind of power; she created tension and emotion. Lust, perhaps, but longing and a haunting yearning too. With a smile she could tempt a man to any act; with a promise she could be deadly trouble.

Be forewarned, my friend, he told himself. And yet still his own confidence was great. He was older. Wiser, he assured himself. He saw the danger and therefore could elude it.

“Lady Sterling, Damien,” he said, moving forward. Damien rose, Amanda remained seated. She offered Eric her hand and one of those smiles for which a man could
be led to kill. He kissed her gloved fingers, glanced Damien’s way, and took a seat beside Amanda.

“ ’Tis good to see you, lad,” he told Damien.

“And you, sir.”

“And your fair cousin, of course,” he said, looking at Amanda. “And yet, milady, I’m very curious. What has brought you here? I had the distinct impression that you did not wish to see me again.”

“Did you?” she said, her voice distant and soft. “You were mistaken.” She seemed to shudder slightly, then her smile returned to her features, and she grew animated and her eyes glowed like jewels. Her cheeks were just touched with the rose of a flush, her lips seemed as red as wine, and at that moment Eric did not think that he had ever seen a woman more alluring. He did not just yearn for her with his loins—though that urge lay very strong within him—but he ached to possess her in all ways, to run his fingers through her hair, to feel those eyes upon him with trust and innocence and their touch of the siren too. He wanted to hold her against him, to watch the rise and fall of her breast, to feel the whisper of her words against his cheek.

“Was I mistaken?” he asked her.

She nodded. “I came to apologize. You caught me at a frightful disadvantage. I am grateful, of course. And I’m so very sorry that I was rude. Please, do forgive me.”

“What else could I do, milady?” he replied.

“Pardon me, milady, milord,” Damien complained softly. “I am here too, you know.”

Eric laughed, looking at Damien. He liked the young man very much. He was bold and brash and witty, and yet, beneath it all, he was determined—and talented. Damien had already cast his glove into the fray. Roswell, he had learned, was dealing very closely with the Bostonians. Most men were still eager to negotiate. Damien ran with a crowd that seemed collectively certain that it would come down to a force of arms. Even though Washington spoke carefully, Eric was certain that he, too, thought it would come to bloodshed.

“A thousand pardons, sir. But I’m afraid my keenest interest
is in your cousin, Damien. Curious, isn’t it, that a lady should seek out a man in a tavern for an apology.”

She still had her temper, he saw, even if she was trying to hide it. Her lashes were lowered, but he saw the flash in her eyes. When she lifted her head, she was smiling again. “Is it shocking behavior that I should be here? Why, all manner of good men and women come to this place, so I am told. The rooms, they say, are of a far more pleasant nature at Mrs. Campbell’s Tavern, but the food here is fine, the drink palatable, and the company … most respectable.”

“Perhaps. But for a lady of your affluence?”

“But there is a lord of your affluence here.”

“And there lies the difference, Amanda,” he told her flatly.

She flushed slightly but picked up a pewter tankard of ale, which she sipped and smiled. “Ours is a wonderful new world, isn’t that what they say? I am fascinated by it.” Her lashes rose and fell, her smile was compelling. She was flirting with him. Her fingers fell over his like butterfly wings.

He caught her fingers with his own. “You are a loyalist to the core, Amanda,” he told her flatly.

She tried to maintain a smile while she struggled to free her fingers from his grasp. “Milord! Do you mean to say that you are not? Have you then repudiated the king? I had not heard that the staunchest rebels had yet gone so far!”

Only in whispers. But things were moving so quickly. Throughout the colonies, throngs of people had attacked shopkeepers who had failed to respect the boycotts on British goods. Few men or women had been injured, but the goods had been destroyed. And there had been no reprisals. It was all like a gigantic wind, sweeping around them. Rebellion was close at hand.

And he was going off to fight Indians in the west, at Lord Dunmore’s request.

He did not need to answer Amanda because Damien was already doing so. Leaning forward, her cousin spoke to her heatedly. “Amanda, hush! God alone knows who may listen to our words these days! Lord Cameron said
nothing about having repudiated the king. Indeed, he is the king’s good servant, leaving his own hearth and risking his own life, limb, and health and fortune to go forth and meet the Shawnee.”

“You should watch for your own life and limb, cousin,” Amanda warned softly.

Damien sat back, staring at her. “What are you talking about?”

She knew exactly what she was talking about, Eric thought. The night became ever more interesting.

“Nothing,” she replied, and turned from her cousin, a charming smile on her lips. “It is whispered that this is where it all takes place.”

“It … all?” Eric queried her innocently.

“The clandestine meetings. The speeches, the—”

“The rebellion, that’s what she means.”

She pouted sweetly. “Amusing, Damien. But so very exciting,” she told Eric.