Again her face softened into a smile, one that seemed to light up a dark room. It took the resolve right out of him. He fought the urge to set down his spoon and take her in his arms. But he kept to his meal, savoring the fire’s warmth and her gracious presence, a world away from the war.
Her voice held a sudden sadness. “I’ve heard the army is about to break camp.”
“Don’t think beyond this night,” he told her. He’d trained himself to do the same. “This very moment is what matters.”
“‘Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’” She voiced the Scripture seamlessly.
“And right now there’s no trouble, at least in this kitchen. You even kindly saw to my horse.”
“Copper brought you back to me. ’Tis the least I can do.” She got up and went to the hearth. “I don’t suppose you’ll stay the night.”
“Nay. I drill early and the moon’s full. Plenty of light to return by ... even if I don’t want to.”
She took the hissing kettle off the fire. “James isn’t here but in Morristown. Something about helping Tench Tilghman compose correspondence for Congress.”
“Aye, Tilghman is General Washington’s most valuable scribe.There’s a frightful amount of paperwork and reporting that’s ongoing.”
“I don’t know where Captain Sperry is.”
“Probably at Arnold Tavern too.” He looked toward the closed kitchen door that led to the hall. “And your sister?”
Mae pointed upstairs. “Writing letters or abed.”
The kitchen grew quiet. Too quiet. He finished his meal, wondering if she still had the pearl heart he’d given her.
“Have you any inkling of your orders?” she asked as she cleared away his dishes.
“The general is keeping a close eye on enemy troop movements and plans. Spies and couriers fly back and forth daily. Everything could change in a trice.”
“You’ll tell me—before you go?” She turned round, and he saw the blue ribbon about her throat, the heart hidden beneath her bodice.
“Aye.” His own throat knotted. “I’ll tell you. I promise.”
“Will you humor me for a moment?” Taking up her scissors resting atop the stack of finished shirts, she added, “I need a lock of your hair.”
“The pearl heart won’t suffice?” he teased, though he felt anything but lighthearted.
“Nay. And given I’m armed with newly sharpened scissors, I doubt you’ll deny me.” She came behind him and tugged at the leather tie that held his queued hair so it spilled free about his shoulders.
“Don’t scalp me,” he murmured, steeling himself for other reasons.
Her fingers combed about his head in the most maddening way possible. Her gentle touch seemed to reach from his scalp to his booted feet. Wooing him. Beguiling him. He nearly stayed her hand. And then the expert snip of scissors ended his momentary torment.
fifteen
I have not yet begun to fight.
John Paul Jones, American naval captain
The quiet, firelit kitchen turned the moment more tender.
If he died in battle in some distant place, how would she find out?Wouldshe? Or might it be her lot to forever wonder? All she had left of him was the lost token in the snow, worn day and night. She craved more of him, her unsettling need prompting her to cut a length of his hair. She held up the silken strand, admiring its gloss, wondering if he’d recently washed it. The question seemed too intimate to ask. A louse-ridden soldier he was not.
He held out a hand. She gave over the scissors and he stood, leaving her the chair he’d vacated. She held her breath, his lock of hair still in hand. More gently than his calloused hands warranted, he stood behind her and removed a pin from her hair. A coil fell free. He paused, then pulled at another pin and then another, tumbling half her hair down her back.
Somehow this seemed as romantic as a kiss. He drew closer as if breathing in her hair’s scent, making her glad of yesterday’srosemary wash. With a decisive snip of the scissors he gained a long strand that lay like yellow ribbon across his palm. He looked ... captivated.
“’Tis so fine it will fall to pieces unless I braid it for you.” She took the strand from him, wove it together, and tied it off with a scrap of ribbon from her sewing kit.
