The Patriot's Conquest (27 page)

He followed her up the narrow stairs to her bed chamber. But as she opened the door, Amanda gasped.

Anger snaked through him as he joined her inside the room.

Only the bed and a scratched dresser remained. Shelving that must have held precious ornaments had only clean spots where those objects once rested.

The Reeves had every right to sell their belongings. But to take away Amanda’s personal possessions? He inwardly cursed not instructing Jake to bring all her things to the farm, instead of only a small trunk of clothing and toiletries.

Color drained from her face. Her lower lip wobbled as she looked around the room. His chest felt hollow as he watched tears glisten in her eyes, but she blinked them back and forced a brave smile.

“It appears a trifle empty, does it not? It will take much less time to pack now.”

Jeffrey’s hands trembled as he fought against taking her slender, pale hand and leading her out of this hated house.

But she needed closure.

One hand touching her bare throat, the other resting upon the bare dresser, Amanda gave him a pleading look. “I hid my emerald necklet here. My grandmother gave it to me when I was but ten and two. She had worn it when presented to the King. Surely it must be here. Mother would never sell it. ’Tis a family treasure.”

Throat tight, he watched her search the chipped, battered dresser. Hope flared on her face each time she wrenched a drawer open, then her gaze dulled as she found it empty.

Dropping to her knees, she paused, fingers upon the last knobs. Amanda took a deep breath, bowing her head. Then she gave a hard tug. The drawer stuck firm, resisting her efforts. With each successive attempt, her breathing grew shallower.

His heart beating fast, Jeffrey looked at his wife and saw not a woman kneeling before a battered dresser, but himself, forced to his knees by British soldiers as his house burned.

Heat from the roaring inferno licked his face as he struggled with impotent force to surge upward, run inside and retrieve cherished family heirlooms. The soldiers’ mocking laughter thundered in his ears, accompanied by the steady snap and crackle of flames eating through timber and time.

He could stand it no longer and crouched down beside her. “Here, allow me.”

Praying that something would be inside, he sucked in a deep breath and gently opened the last drawer. Amanda stared at the empty interior with a crestfallen expression. She ran her hands along the surface, her nails digging into each crevice.

“It must be here, mayhap it fell between the boards. I hid it well, I’m certain I did.”

Jeffrey caught her wrist in a gentle grip. “’Tis of no use, Mandy. There is nothing here, sweet.”

Shoulders slumped, she dropped her hands.

“The necklet was admired by Royals. The King himself commented on how comely she looked. I have no treasures left to remember my grandmother. Mother has even sold the family portraits.”

Heartsick, he watched her gather her shredded dignity. As they stood, Amanda dusted off her hands.

“’Tis no matter. They are only things, not people. Nor animals. The jewelry will go to a goodly family, I am certain, a girl who will wear it and admire it for how pretty she looks...”

Then she dropped her head, her shoulders shaking. Cursing her parents, Jeffrey gently gathered his wife into his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder. “Let it out, Mandy,” he whispered, stroking a hand down her spine. “’Tis not shameful to cry.”

For a few moments, she sobbed into his shoulder as he continued to hold her close. Finally, she raised her tear-swollen gaze. Jeffrey offered his handkerchief, smiling tenderly as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

Then he gently stroked his thumbs down her cheeks, wiping away the lingering wetness. Jeffrey did not know how else to comfort her. He bent his head and kissed her temple, then gently touched his mouth to hers, hoping to ease her pain.

Amanda lifted her face on a sigh. Encouraged, he kissed her again, moving his mouth leisurely over hers. Pleasure sharpened as she parted her lips and delicately touched her tongue to his.

He deepened the kiss, cradling her head in his hands, sipping at her mouth, delivering the tiny nips and licks he knew she enjoyed. Finally they broke free.

Passion darkened her eyes, but she looked troubled.

“Jeffrey. What are we doing?”

Concerned at her tone, he cupped her chin. “What is wrong, Mandy? Do you wish to leave and go home?”

Indecision flared on her face. She glanced around, bit her lip and then he saw defiance spark.

“No, husband. We are married now, and as you have said, there is no sin in a married couple showing physical affection.” She threaded her arms around his neck. “I have a desire for you to demonstrate much more of that affection, husband.”

Joy filled him, not at the sensual promise in her eyes, but at her declaration. It was as if she’d finally begun to break the shackles her prudish mother had placed upon her wrists.

With a coy smile, Amanda removed the pins holding her hair fast, letting the locks tumble down to her waist. She reached up and kissed him. Her mouth was warm and silky. Jeffrey fisted a hand in her hair, his mouth moving over hers. The wet warmth of her silky lips enflamed him. Inside his breeches, his cock hardened to stone.

Then she pulled away, a naughty smile touching her kiss-swollen mouth. Amanda toyed with the ribbon fastening her bodice.

“Here?” he asked, a bit doubtful.

“’Tis a fine feather bed. Wouldn’t you like to test the mattress? ’Tis most comfortable.”

Remembering the challenge he’d issued in his own bedchamber when he caught her snooping, Jeffrey laughed.

“But I do need your help, husband. May I ask your assistance in loosening my stays?”

His gaze shifted to the swell of her breasts. His blood surged hotly as he remembered another dress tightly laced and how he’d unfastened it, her breasts threatening to spill over like rich, ripe fruit. He had wanted to take her there on the bed in the Raleigh, only his tight control preventing him from plunging into her hot sweetness.

The frilled ribbon holding her bodice tight came loose easily, as did her stays. Jeffrey freed her breasts then removed the rest of her clothing. Two dusky pink nipples tautened in the air. Most inviting. He bent his head over one, his lips teasing it into hardness. With each lazy flick of his tongue over the cresting nipple, he felt his wife tremble. She moaned, clutching his head.

Then he stepped back and shucked his coat, waistcoat and shirt, stockings and shoes. Fumbling with his breeches, he unfastened the two gold buttons where the fabric tented. Sexual anticipation flushed Amanda’s face. Turning her around, he bent her over the bed.

“Hold on, dear wife.”

“This way? ’Tis... like animals coupling!” Her squeal of surprise made him smile.

“Aye, for ’tis the best means for christening the bed. And a means to achieve deep pleasure.”

And I intend to give you every bit of that pleasure
, he silently promised her. For she deserved nothing less.

Jeffrey withdrew his erection from the cloth imprisoning it and shed the rest of his clothing

Eyes smoky with passion, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “What if Mother returns?”

“George will keep them quite a while.” He stroked a hand down the curve of her spine, delighting in how she arched beneath his touch.

His excitement doubled now, he hitched up her skirts. Her round, white bottom, smooth and saucy, felt like satin beneath his caressing palm. He gave it a light kiss and heard her gasp. Jeffrey grasped her hips.

Her naked flesh felt so warm and inviting. Jeffrey positioned himself over her and thrust into his wife, shuddering at the wet warmth of her passage. She uttered a low, strangled moan. He eased in and out in slow, deep, deliberate strokes, intending to allow her feel every inch of him. Wriggling her hips, she pushed back against him.

Amanda’s impassioned reaction stirred him to increase his pace and rhythm. As he stroked harder and faster, she cried out, her whimpers of pleasure stirring him to greater heights. Her spine arched as she tilted her bottom upward. Jeffrey bent over her, aching to please her and drive away her sadness.

“Mandy, sweet, you tempt me beyond belief. Have I told you exactly how lovely you are, dear wife?” he whispered into her shell-like ear.

“Jeffrey, oh, ’tis... ’tis...” she cried, now fisting her hands.

Her passion pleased him. But he wanted more, wanted to make her forget every hateful thing that had transpired in this house and replace her sorrow with rapt pleasure.

With one hand, he reached down and rubbed her at the juncture of her thighs. Amanda cried out as his fingers tenderly caressed her.

“Jeffrey, oh, please,” she gasped.

“Now, Mandy, time to let it go,” he said in a husky voice, thrusting deeper still. “Come honey, let it out. Give it over.”

“Jeffrey, I cannot...” she protested, her breath wheezing in frantic gasps.

“You can. I’ll not take my pleasure until you’ve had yours.”

Jeffrey felt his heart trip in a crazy cadence. He slid deep inside her, desiring to heighten her response. The woman had a raw sensuality and driving passion she fought desperately to suppress. And he fought equally hard to draw it from her, to teach her the art of lovemaking.

“Come, my sweet Mandy, do not hold back from me,” he coaxed.

She moaned again, a raw, rippling sound that tore from her throat. Jeffrey stroked her again and again. She arched her back and grew taut as a bowstring.

“Now, Mandy,” he commanded, thrusting deeper. “Now, for do I hear your mother’s footsteps downstairs?”

She came then, bucking wildly against him, a scream rising from her throat. Jeffrey felt triumphant as he thrust deep, and let his own cry echo hers as he spilled his seed deep within his wife.

Their ragged pants filled the room. Jeffrey pulled away from her, and fell on the bed beside her as she collapsed. He tenderly brushed away a curl from her face and she glanced at him.

“Did you truly hear footsteps?”

He smiled, continuing to stroke her perspiring temple. “Nay, I said that to tease you into reaching your pleasure, Mandy.”

She gave a pretty little sigh. “’Tis too bad. I’d dearly have loved to see the expression on Mother’s face when she saw us coupling. I am certain she would have been forced to lower the price on the bed.”

Their combined laughter rang throughout the room.

M
EG AND THE
children returned to the farm two days later, thrilled at the news of Jeffrey and Amanda’s marriage. As he left his wife chatting with his sister, Jeffrey rode into town with Jake to attend a slave auction.

He purchased eight slaves. All were skilled field workers specializing in tobacco and corn. The owner added a bonus, the sister, a “runty, scrawny thing to clean and keep house,” for an extra 15 pounds.”

Jeffrey agreed, happy to keep the family together.

After the auction, he told them they were free and if they wanted, they could leave. He’d give them a small stipend and some food. Or they could remain on the farm and work and he would pay them. The pay would not arrive until the crops did, but if they needed money, he’d advance them a loan against their wages, interest-free.

At first the family stared at him as if he were daft. Then, as the sister cried, they nodded eagerly. Jeffrey introduced them to Jake and said they’d be working under his supervision. When the father asked if Jeffrey could purchase the children’s mother, a good, hard worker, he promised to make inquiries.

Then Jeffrey purchased a second plow and two mules, plus three fine-blooded Spanish mares for breeding and a stallion to put to stud. With the men working the fields, and the added income from stallion’s stud fees, he could return to the blacksmith’s shop. Since the gunpowder incident, things had heated up and Jeffrey planned to immerse himself fully in that particular heat.

Two days later, he saddled Liberty to ride to Williamsburg. Amanda followed him to the barn. With a wistful look, she petted Daphne, one of the Spanish mares. Jeffrey felt a tugging regret, knowing how she pined for Sage. Her bastard father had sold the mare to down his debts.

“Will you be gone all day?” she asked with a woeful expression.

“Aye, but back by nightfall,” he said, tightening the saddle’s girth. He felt a stab of guilt for abandoning her.

“I do not see why you must work as a smith when you have money, Jeffrey.”

He swallowed hard. Amanda was his wife, but he couldn’t take her fully into his confidences. Not even Meg knew about his clandestine activities, for his family’s ignorance assured their innocence should the British ever question them.

“Every man should labor. I need to keep my hand in the trade.” He added, hoping to make her smile, “Sara is eager for her lessons with you. She’s prattled on about nothing else.”

Amanda smiled. “Miles and Sara adore being read to almost as much as they love your violin playing. Perhaps after supper tonight you can honor us with a tune.”

Another deep tug of guilt. Jacob Richards, Polly’s father, captained a group of militia and possessed rifles needing repair. Jeffrey had agreed to fix the rifles at Anderson’s shop at night, and return them to Richards’ plantation. The work was too risky during the day for neither Jim Anderson, Jacob or Jeffrey wanted the Loyalists to know the militia lacked sufficient arms.

He gave Liberty a pat. “Not tonight. I’ve business after supper and it will take some time.”

“Business? Where? How long?”

“In town. I’m not certain how long. But I’ll be home as fast as I can,” he promised. Jeffrey kissed her as she opened her mouth to ask more questions. He mounted Liberty, blew his wife another kiss and rode off.