The irony wasn’t lost on him. He may have distanced himself, but she remained ever present. Winter gave way to a certain idleness that a march and a fight never did. As he wrestled with the winsome image of her in the firelit kitchen, a Scripture lanced his thoughts.
He that hath no rule over his own spirit is like a city that isbroken down and without walls.
A northeasterly wind buffeted him, foretelling a change of weather. He continued working—trying to push Mae from his mind. A far less bloody battle but a battle nevertheless.
In midafternoon, Bohannon appeared, a hamper in arm. “You may have left Chatham, but it hasn’t left you, General.”
Rhys descended the ladder, belly rumbling, and invited him inside.
“Blast but ’tis frigid!” Setting the hamper on the crude table that also served as a desk, Bohannon took a look around. “Did you shove enough clay in those cracks, sir?”
“There’s never enough of anything,” Rhys said matter-of-factly, wondering what delights the hamper held. “Though I’ve a good supply of furs for my bedding. I’ve a mind to put that bearskin up on the wall.”
Bohannon added another log to the fire. “You’d need wall-to-wall skins to help with that draft.”
“In other words, only a bear wintering in his den would weather this well.”
Bohannon nodded. “Your returning here is good for the men—provided you don’t freeze to death.”
With a rueful smile, Rhys opened the hamper. Mae’s goodwill had obviously withstood his repulse. Bread. Butter. Preserves. Maple syrup. A rasher of bacon. Sausages. A knitted hat. Shirts and stockings neatly folded. Even a striped blanket. What hadn’t she thought of?
Her brother’s next bold words caught him off guard. “I had hoped to have you as more than a commanding officer, but I seem to have been mistaken.”
A brother-in-law? Rhys stanched his surprise. “For now, aye.”
“Mae said nothing, just to be clear. I surmised the rest. For now, I’ll leave you to your hamper as I’m due home before dark.”
“Thank her for me.”
“Aye. I’ll return for morning drill.”
Bohannon left, leaving Rhys alone. Fresh memories of the Chatham parlor and dining room, the fine dishes and spirits, but most of all the companionship, turned the hollow space all the emptier.
Curse the war. Curse the winter.
Shoving comparisons aside, he put the empty hamper away.
While he was here in the foothills, would someone else take first place in Mae’s affections? He’d heard something about the Presbyterian pastor setting his sights on her. She’d make a fine pastor’s wife, serving in the meetinghouse that had been her father’s. Having a family and continuing in the place she’d spent her entire life.
The possibility sat like gravel in his gut. Yet hadn’t he forfeited that right, given he’d stepped back? No matter his feelings for her, the coming confrontation with the British scuttled the most pined-for plans.
If he lived through it, he would return to Virginia. His acreage waited. His new house had barely been finished before he’d been commissioned, and he prayed the British hadn’t burned it down. His father and sister would welcome him home, a war veteran, and he’d return to his crops and fields and farm. Only that peaceful prospect didn’t hold the appeal it once did.
Not without Mae.
thirteen
The men are literally naked, some of them of every color and make. ... Saw officers mounting guard in sort of a dressing gown made of an old blanket or bed cover.
Baron Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben
The next week, Rhys’s place at table yawned empty. Mae sat in her usual place across from his empty chair, recalling all the little things she missed about him. His thoughtful presence. The half smiles he sent her when no one else was watching. How his queued hair refused to be confined to a ribbon, coffee-colored strands falling free to his wide shoulders. His mesmerizing gray eyes, intent in his gaze.
“More peppermint tea?” Mrs. Hurst offered, coming from the kitchen with the pot.
Thankfully their housekeeper was back on her feet, bemoaning the ongoing lack of salt and disappointed General Harlow had returned to the winter encampment and wouldn’t lodge with them again. Coralie looked rather smug, as if she’d overheard their kitchen conversation and knew he’d distanced himself. Might she have been spying on her and Rhys too?
Now, as they finished two o’clock dinner with just Coralie,James, and Captain Sperry, Mae felt increasingly uneasy. Having had several glasses of wine, James and the captain were even more talkative than usual. And, as usual, Coralie excused herself under the pretense of writing another letter.
