Juliet barely missed a rock.
Edmund slammed against a protruding rock, turning their craft sideways. Mary wailed.
“Rest easy,” said Two Eagles. “I will turn us around.”
Two Eagles had no sooner managed straightening the craft when Edmund steered them into a dangerous eddy between two enormous rocks. Like being scooped up by a giant hand, the canoe pitched heavenward. Juliet held her breath. The canoe slammed downward and flew forward, Edmund laughing in victory and ready to take on the river.
Edmund suddenly resumed paddling in perfect rhythm with his twin, zooming far ahead of them. Juliet couldn’t help but note the uncanny and unspoken communication between the twins, moving as if one body, and as if they’d never been separated.
Huge logs swirled. Debris whirled in their wake. Hours passed and Juliet’s arms ached. She kept glancing over her shoulder to see if they were followed. Joshua did too. Had Ghost been successful in leading the soldiers away from them?
The moon made its descent and the sun rose, a great gem in the sky. She worried about Joshua and his wounds. The purpling had gone down around his eye but he had cuts and other wounds. Still they paddled on with the sun dipping higher in the sky as the current rushed them along, and into a greater river of the Mohawk where the ride smoothed out.
She had taken a risk asking the soldier, John, who she had seen Joshua secretly talking to, for his help. Her hunch to have him aid with the escape had been a long shot but worked to their advantage as he had been more than willing to aid her.Lord Rutland?He had called Joshua Lord Rutland. Was Joshua an English lord and from one of the most powerful families in England? Had Joshua told her cousin the truth about his lineage?
Toward dusk, they steered the canoes to the deep-shaded shore of the swollen river. Joshua, Edmund, and Two Eagles jumped into knee-deep water, squishing through mud in the shallows and pulled the crafts up the embankment, concealing them beneath hemlock branches in case British soldiers happened by. Grateful, Juliet, with Joshua at her side, stumbled to steady ground. Joshua followed an animal trail away from the camp to check the area. Mary passed out food from the bundles they’d taken from the fort. Juliet ate heartily, and then collapsed on the furs Two Eagles had laid out.
She awoke two hours later and groggy, patted the fur beside her. Joshua was not there. She grabbed some bread and bandages and followed Joshua’s trail through a copse of trees to a high clearing with a full view of the river glistening in the moonlight. He sat at the edge of the clearing overlooking the river, his back to her.
“Why didn’t you sleep, Juliet?”
“I did for a short time.” She moved toward him.
He turned.
“You must eat—for your strength.” She offered him the bread. “Let me bandage your wounds.”
He glanced down as if he’d forgotten his wounds existed. “Only a few bruises and scratches.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, turning back his shirt on one side. Her stomach fluttered. A six-inch deep furrow ran across his shoulder still oozing blood “It looks terribly painful.” She touched his shoulder lightly. “This must be dressed or it will fester.”
Her eyes locked on to his lips. Heat flooded her face, the crush of his mouth, a lingering memory. Her finger itched to caress the smooth line of his lower lip and the firm curve of his jaw.
“You know of such things?”
“One Twelfth Night, I watched Moira sew up a man who had imbibed on enough spirits to sink a battalion of soldiers. He had attempted to carve a roasted goose. Instead, he performed a neat job of slicing his arm.” She heaved a sigh. “Since there is a shortage of physicians, you’ll have to suffer my needlepoint skills. If you would sit on the log, I can begin.”
He nodded, straddled a beech log. Gingerly she blotted his wound and retreated into her shy and reticent self. His skin felt warm and he smelled of earth and river. How would she find the wherewithal to perform this task?
An English lord?Still reeling from the fact put starch in her knees. “Joshua Hansford? Lord Joshua Rutland? Who are you? Far from the atmosphere of wealth and respect, you present a mystery. None of it makes sense and you have a lot of answering to do.”
She threaded a needle, wishing she had some rum to pour over the gash. Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she pushed the needle through his flesh. She winced and looked at him to see if he’d felt the pain. “Why would one of English nobility carry a long rifle, dress like a frontiersman, live in the wilderness, and then pretend otherwise?”
“Does it matter?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I remember details…the dinner with the Hayes’, and then at Fort Oswego…the refinements you revealed without realizing the civilities displayed. How you folded your napkin when done eating, holding your wine goblet just so, and slipping sometimes from your colonial vernacular. Every one of those instances spoke of polished manners ingrained from birth.”
He was silent. He was good at keeping silent.
Aware of Joshua watching her every move, she gritted her teeth to quell her trembling, drew the thread through two layers of skin, pulling the cut together. She closed her eyes and swallowed. “I heard the soldier call you Lord Rutland and don’t deny it. You can’t fool me. I know nobility, yet you choose the occupation of a fur trader and spy. Why?”
Joshua lifted his brow, and next offered a slight bow of his head at her observations. “Lord Joshua Rutland at your service, Madam, the third son and third heir to the Duke of Rutland and very thankful you helped us escape.”
“I couldn’t let them execute you…for all that you had done for me.”Because I have feelings for you.She pushed through his skin again. “I imagine you have family?”
“I have a sister, Abigail living in Boston and married to a shipbuilder.”
Juliet frowned. The daughter of a duke would marry nobility in England not a Boston shipbuilder. “She’s in Boston married to a colonial?”
