Love Not a Rebel (26 page)

Amanda shivered, suddenly aware that she did not want Eric Cameron falling beneath a Shawnee’s scalping knife. He was leaning back quite calmly and comfortably in his chair, dauntless, she thought, yet aware. She set down her fork, paling.

“Gentlemen! Our conversation is distressing the lady!” Lord Hastings protested.

“Is it?” Eric, amused, was looking her way. “I do apologize most deeply, Amanda.”

She smiled, standing quickly. “I do believe I could benefit from some fresh air. If you gentlemen will just excuse me.…”

They all stood, but she gave none the chance to protest, sweeping quickly from the dining room and out into the hall. She raced out to the front porch and stared down the endless drive before the house.

“Lady Amanda!”

She turned, truly distressed to discover that Lord Hastings had followed her. She tried to smile as he waddled to her, panting. She backed away from him, but he reached for her hands. “Are you unwell?” he asked.

“No, no, I’m so sorry that you left the meal—”

“I’m so sorry that you were distressed. Yet perhaps, my dear, it is best that you realize that young Cameron may not return.” He clicked his tongue unhappily against his cheeks.

“Oh, I … I’m sure that Eric will return. He’s fought the Indians before. He will take care.”

“Still … my dear, I hope that you do not think of me unkindly.”

“No … of course not, Lord Hastings. I shall never forget all the wonderful hunts at your estate when I was a child.”

“You are a child no more, Amanda. And you must not be worried for the future. I would have you know now that if Eric does not return from the front, I will be there for you. I know that I am an old man, but I am one who is humbly and deeply in love with you. I have spoken with your father and if anything does not go as planned, well, then he has agreed that I should be your husband.” She tried not to gaze at him in horror, but a light in his beady dark eyes made her feel as if she would spew her meal all over his fine silk shirt. She swallowed hard, gaping at him. Then she realized that the other men were coming out on the porch, Eric between her father and the governor.

“How … kind,” she told Lord Hastings. She felt cold, sick, imagining his fleshy hands upon her. She would die first, she thought.

“How very, very kind, but … you see, we, er, we cannot wait. We cannot wait—”

“Cannot wait for what?” her father boomed out.

She moistened her lips. Eric was watching her, amused once again. She ignored his look, smiled regretfully at Hastings, then hurried past him and slipped her arm through Eric’s. “We—we have agreed that we cannot wait for Eric to return. We’re going to be married right away.”

“What? But there are just days before we are due to leave for the frontier—” the governor protested.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Eric murmured, his cobalt eyes falling upon her with a sizzle. “And we should have spoken earlier, Amanda, we should have told them right away.” His eyes remained upon hers, daring her. “Alas, it is the very thought that I could die that has prompted us to this measure. I would leave an heir behind if I could.”

“But you cannot marry so quickly—” Sterling began.

“Your pardon, sir! Lord Dunmore can give us a special license, and the service can be quiet and performed at Bruton Parish within the week.”

“It’s quite inappropriate—” Nigel began.

“I like it,” the governor said. His Scots burr sounded for just a moment and his brown eyes sparkled. “I like it very well. We shall marry our little loyalist to this doubtful fellow and keep him in line, what do you say?”

They all laughed. The tension lay far beneath the comment, and at the moment, it was ignored by them all.

“Perhaps, under these circumstances, Amanda should return with me to Williamsburg,” Sterling said.

“No!” Eric retorted. So quickly that it was almost rude. He softened his speech, smiling. “Gentlemen, we should all spend the night here and go into town tomorrow.”

“Splendid!” the governor agreed.

He clamped his hand on Sterling’s shoulder. “A good match, Nigel. Come, let’s imbibe upon your son-in-law’s spirits and toast to your future grandchildren!”

Lord Dunmore led Sterling back toward the house. Lord Hastings looked from the older men to the young people, then sighed and headed toward the house. When they were alone at last, Amanda struggled to free herself from Eric’s hold. He did not release her. She tossed back her head to stare into his eyes.

“I’m delighted,” he murmured. “What brought on this sudden ardor upon your part? Have you discovered if not love, then lust for me at last?”

“Don’t be absurd. I’ve discovered … I’ve discovered Lord Hastings’s four-score chins,” she retorted.

His smile deepened. A dimple showed against his cheek and his eyes were touched by a silver glitter born of the very devil. “You have cast yourself into this. You will not renege?”

She swallowed, shaking her head. She could not breathe. “No. No, I will not renege.”

“You needn’t say that as if you were going to your execution.”

“That is how I feel.”

He threw back his head and laughed, then he lifted her chin with his finger, searching out her eyes. “You are mistaken. I will prove to you that it will be fun.”

“Fun!” She shivered. “It cannot be fun. Not for a wife.”

“But it will be,” he promised her. His eyes seemed to pour down upon her with fierce and unyielding promise. His fingers stroked over her throat and then his lips touched down on hers. Her eyes closed and she felt as if demons set fire throughout her, causing a cascade of searing liquid to dance against her limbs. Then his lips left hers and touched down upon the arch of her throat, and the sensations increased. She swallowed suddenly, tearing away. Puzzled, he caught her hand and pulled her back. Color blazed in her cheeks.

“What in God’s name is wrong with you?” he demanded.

“It isn’t—right!” She gasped.

Angrily he held her against him, lifting her chin once more to meet the tumult in her eyes. “Not right? Lady, you are not a harlot I have chosen for the night. We are to marry.”

She lowered her lashes. “Let me go, please! We are not married as yet.”

He did not let her go. “Tomorrow we will be. And when the words are said and you are my wife, don’t think that you can turn to me and trust in my honor to leave you be. I am taking a wife because I desire one. You do understand that.”

“Yes!” She wrenched free from him and turned and ran down the steps. He started to follow her and then paused, then turned to reenter the house.

That night Amanda was too nervous to remember the dark-haired man with whom Danielle had been having her curious animated conversation. She paced the room endlessly, having preferred supper on a tray to the gentlemen’s company that evening. She walked back and forth telling Danielle that she was insane, but that she did not know what else to do. Danielle was quiet, but Amanda did not even notice.

She ceased her pacing when a knock came on the door at about eight o’clock. She did not answer it—her father opened the door and stepped into the room. He took one look at Danielle and said curtly, “Go.” The woman glanced toward Amanda but obeyed him quickly enough.

He closed the door behind Danielle. “So you are going to marry him tomorrow.”

“Yes, Father. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But I want you to remember that even if you are his wife, you remain my daughter.”

“Meaning?”

“You will do as I say.”

She smiled, glad of her coming marriage for one reason. Eric Cameron could protect her from anything. “He is a forceful man. He might disagree.”

“He cannot save Damien Roswell’s neck from the hangman.”

She paled, her pleasure cleanly erased. Sterling kept talking, ignoring her. “Damien is accompanying Lord Cameron to the front, did you know that? No, I did not suppose so. Perhaps one of them will die. It will be interesting to see.”

He turned to leave her. “Don’t forget how very much of your future I still hold, my dear, dear child.”

The door closed. Amanda sank down on the bed, shaking.

Eric Cameron could not protect her from everything.

In the morning Danielle came to her very early. Amanda dressed numbly. Danielle had chosen a soft blue-gray gown for her with pearls stitched into the lacing. She did not bind or cover Amanda’s hair, but let it stream down upon the gown like a ripple of dark fire. When Amanda was ready, she walked down the stairs. The servants were lined up on the stairs. A glass was raised to her, and she was welcomed among them as Lady Cameron. She thanked them but had gone so pale that she could not manage a smile.

She remained numb for the long drive back to Williamsburg. She and Danielle rode alone, for Eric had gone in with the others even earlier to make the arrangements.

Danielle was pleased about the marriage, if distressed about the rush. “There should have been time for a wedding gown, for the church to properly announce the ceremony.
But it is good,
mais oui
, it is good. You will be out of that monster’s clutches forever!”

“That monster,” Amanda knew, was her father. But Danielle was wrong. She was not out of his clutches.

In Williamsburg she was taken to the governor’s palace. His countess very kindly and enthusiastically helped her freshen up from the journey. She chatted very happily about her wedding day, and apologized for the indisposition that had kept her from entertaining Amanda on her last visit. “I do hope that John was gracious.”

“Very gracious,” Amanda agreed. He had threatened her cousin’s life—graciously.

But then the countess offered her a stiff brandy. “A gentleman’s drink perhaps, but for the prewedding tremors, a lady’s drink as well!”

Amanda drank a lot of it. It seemed to be one way to endure the ceremony.

Despite the haste of the wedding, the Bruton Parish Church was quickly filled. Many of the men who had been in town for the dissolved House—who would soon be attending the Continental Congress—came to see Lord Cameron take his bride. As she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm, Amanda noted that it was a curious assembly indeed. The governor laughed and joked with the very men whose meeting he had so recently dissolved. Lady Geneva had come, and squeezed her hand as she passed by. Colonel Washington was there, she saw, nodding to Eric with a pleased grin on his sober countenance. She did not see Damien, and that worried her, as he had been invited. Actually, everything worried her.

She was going to pass out, she thought. But she could not. Nigel Sterling passed her hand over to Eric, and the reverend stepped forward to tie their wrists together with white ribbon.

And then he began to speak.

Amanda did not hear his words. She felt the heat of the small church, and she heard the muffled whisperings of the people in the pews. She felt Eric standing beside her, and she heard the clear, well-modulated tones of his vows. Then she heard a pause, and she forced herself to speak
even as she wondered at the words she said. She swore to love, honor, and obey.

Suddenly the reverend was smiling and suggesting that Eric might kiss his bride. Then his lips were upon hers, and fierce as she had never felt them before. The breath was robbed from her body and very nearly her life. It was not so different from any other of his demanding kisses except that it seemed ever more so. It was not a taunt … it was a possession, she thought.

There was a cry, and Lady Geneva surged forward, laughing, kissing her, then kissing her groom with something a little less than propriety. But that didn’t seem to matter, for the peculiar assemblage was in a joyous mood. Dunmore kissed her deeply, then others in the council, and then members of the House of Burgesses.

There were so many people around her. Unable to breathe and feeling terribly trapped, she finally managed to escape through the crowd and exit the church into the cemetery. There she leaned against the cold wall, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She opened her eyes to discover that Washington had followed her. Tall, with soft blue-gray eyes, he smiled her way ruefully. “Are you all right, Lady Cameron?”

Cameron. It was her name now, she thought. She opened her mouth to answer the man, but no words would come, and she knew that her eyes were wary. She nodded.

Washington smiled at her. “If I can ever help you, please do not hesitate to come to me. I see your husband coming. I wish you long life and happiness, milady, and I hope that you will visit us at Mount Vernon. We shall all pray for peace.”

“Yes, we will pray for peace!” she agreed. The trees rustled over their heads, and for a moment they smiled at one another and shared something. Then the moment was broken, for Damien had discovered her.

He flashed Washington his rogue’s smile, then kissed his cousin warmly. “Felicitations, Lady Cameron!”

“Damien! I did not see you!”

“I was in the church. I would not have missed it!” He
swept her off her feet and swirled her around, then he suddenly paused, laughing. “Uh-oh. Lord Cameron! Well, er, here she is! Your bride!”

He thrust Amanda into Eric’s arms. So she wouldn’t be dropped between the two men, she curled her arms around her husband’s neck and met his gaze. He smiled down at her, and the tenderness in his smile warmed her. She offered a tentative smile in turn, and then he was laughing at something someone was saying, and then agreeing that the wine and ale were flowing freely at his town house.

It wasn’t much of a walk to the town house. Eric carried her all the way there with a score of wellwishers behind them. She remembered little more of the afternoon, for despite his smile she was very, very nervous and so she kept her glass of Madeira filled and refilled, perhaps far too often. She thought that they would party into the night, but the wellwishers were still in abundance when Eric came to her, sweeping her into his arms again. Panic seized her as she felt his arms close around her.

“What—”

“We’re going home.”

“Home?”

“Cameron Hall.”

“But—” she said, then fell silent, for she was glad of it. The long drive would delay their time alone together, the time that she was dreading, that now held her in pure terror. She had sold herself today, to a devil or a traitor, she knew not which. She had done so with open eyes, yet now she was afraid.