“We are no better.” Mae took another long drink. “If you and Mrs. Kersey and Mrs. Wentz would stop turning up your noses, much can be admired in Lucy Hawkes.”
With a final grumble, Coralie began preparing their bedding in the wagon while Mae set the water pail beneath it. Saying nothing to her sister about her intent, she threaded her way through the camp, searching for Rhys. Tents began sprouting like mushrooms among the camp followers to keep insects at bay, though Rhys and the majority of his riflemen slept in the open once all had settled for the night.
As the moon rose and the camp quieted, she finally found him. He stood beneath a pine tree. Was he on watch? At her approach he turned round and she saluted. His amused smile was a startling white in the dusk. James, usually near at hand, was missing. Did Rhys crave a moment of privacy, if such could be had?
“General Harlow.”
“Miss Bohannon.”
Greetings exchanged, she ached for him to take her in his arms, their first and last kiss never far from her thoughts. She moved nearer the pine, hoping it sheltered them from any gossip. What would the officers’ wives say about this tryst? Coralie?
“Have you need of anything?” he asked quietly.
“You.” The honest answer left her fisting her hands in her skirts to avoid touching him.
“Likewise,” he replied, crossing his arms as if his intent was the same.
“James said we’re almost to the Hudson River. I’ve been looking for Bear Mountain.”
“Tomorrow should see us there, barring any calamities.”
She stemmed a sigh. Every mile was fraught. Her gaze roamed his deeply tanned features, so dark against his fringed linen shirt. “You never seem to tire.”
“I hide it well. Most nights I sleep with one eye open.”
“Fort Montgomery will be a refuge for us all.”
“It will be, though I’m in no hurry to see you leave for your brother’s farm.”
Because it was less safe? Or because he’d miss her? She leaned down and picked up a small pine cone. The earthy fragrance of the forest was something she’d miss. “You must come visit.”
“Come courting, you mean?”
“Will there be time?”
“Sabbaths should be free, though once word spreads that the belle of Chatham has arrived, I’ll be hard-pressed to stand my ground as you’ll have so many suitors.”
“You flatter me.”
“Nay.” He opened a flask and took a drink. “You don’t know men.”
She dropped the pine cone. “Nor do I want to, just you.”
He sat down on a rock outcropping, rifle in one hand while he reached for her with the other. She took a place beside him, near enough to hear the river’s rush, the silvery water shining in the moonlight. His fingers felt rough as the bark of white oak. Why hadn’t she saved some candied violets for him?
Together they searched the gloom, where even the slightest breeze seemed a menace as it might mimic or hide a footfall. The enemy was out there somewhere, capable of striking any second. The thought chilled her to the bone despite the sultry night.
“Tell me about the twin forts, Montgomery and Clinton,” she said quietly.
“The garrisons are new, built last year to defend the lower Hudson. The British have their eye on every American fort along the river with the intent to take it and wrest control from us. Once they combine forces this will be a battleground.”
“How long will you be at Fort Mongomery?”
“Orders could change in a heartbeat, though I imagine I’ll remain in New York for some time, mayhap move north to the upperHudson and Ticonderoga. New York is vast, and we’re only in the southern part.”
“And Jon seems to think Chatham is more dangerous.” Suddenly Jersey seemed infinitely safer.
“This is hardly the conversation we should be having at dusk.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “You’ll get little sleep.”
