He hesitated. “Virginia, I want your promise, your word, that you will obey me this one single time. Your life and the child’s may depend on it.”
She knew he was about to leave. Her despair grew. “Yes…Devlin?”
He was grim. “We must go.”
“Do you wish to rest…here?” She wet her lips, wishing he would stay.
“I cannot. The county is crawling with scouts.”
She nodded, seized with anguish.
“I have to go,” he repeated harshly, their eyes colliding. His expression was filled with anguish, too, or at least she thought so. He quickly looked away as if to compose himself, before facing her one more time. “I have one question for you.”
She wanted to beg him yet again not to leave her, for her nightmare was now coming true. But she did no such thing. The sane part of her knew he must leave, and swiftly, for if he and his men were captured they would all be imprisoned, or worse. She inhaled. “Please.”
“Have you left me?”
She stared, stunned. Of course she had, though not by choice. Everything had changed since she had arrived on American soil—and nothing had changed, nothing at all. Virginia did not hesitate. She did not have to think about her answer; her heart answered for her. “No.”
His expression tightened. And before she knew it, he swept her into his arms, hard, and up against his chest, his mouth seizing hers.
Virginia cried out as their mouths fused. In his powerful embrace, she felt safe—and she knew then that he loved her. Frantically they kissed, again and again, the war outside a burning fuse set to explode at any moment.
He pulled away, nodded at her, and went out the door.
For one moment, she did not move, stunned and tearful. Then she ran after him but paused on the porch, clinging to the rail, as he strode to his mount. “Stay safe, Devlin,” she said thickly as he swung up into the saddle.
His stead pranced, sensing a gallop at hand. Devlin controlled the beast, turning it to face her. He nodded at her. “Do as you have promised,” he said.
“I promise,” she breathed.
He stared for one more moment, and then he wheeled the bay and galloped off, his men flying with him. She was vaguely aware of Tillie coming to stand beside her, putting her arm around her. They stood there for a long time, staring blindly out into the night after Devlin and his men.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE ATTACK ONNORFOLKquickly failed. Although the British began an attack both by land and by sea, apparently with heavy reinforcements, a huge summer storm prevented the landing of half of their marines and those that succeeded were decimated by the heavy artillery fire of the American regulars. Within two hours, the British forces withdrew.
The news of the American victory rapidly swept through the county and reached Sweet Briar by the end of the day. Once again, Virginia was not quite well. She sat in the kitchen as Tillie prepared a light supper of fried greens, ham and eggs, fanning herself. It was a very warm day, but that was not why she could not seem to breathe properly and she knew it. She was also light-headed, enough so that she saw dancing lights in the room and her heart raced and pounded uncomfortably. When Frank came in, beaming, to impart the news of their triumph, she could not breathe at all.
As he began to speak—“Turned tail and ran, cowards, all of ’em”—her world grayed and began undulating and she began to fall.
“Frank, help her,” Tillie screamed.
Virginia fought the blackness and she fought for air. Images of Devlin as she had last seen him assailed her as she clawed someone’s arms. Her last thought was she needed her husband, and then the blackness came.
She awoke slowly in her bed, stripped down to her chemise and drawers, with an ice compress on her throbbing head. Tillie sat beside her, her eyes huge with fear. Virginia tested her lungs and found she could breathe normally and she inhaled hard. Relief assailed her. Then she smiled. “Tillie. The baby. He kicked again.” It was true. Just before she had passed out, she had felt her child kick.
Tillie did not smile. “You need to see a doctor. You swooned and hit your head on the floor! I sent Frank to go get Doc Barnes.” Her tone meant she would tolerate only compliance.
Virginia closed her eyes. These attacks where she felt faint, her heart beating so hard that it hurt her, were becoming more and more frequent. She was afraid. This time she had fainted and hit her head—what if this happened yet again? She looked at Tillie. “I agree with you. I need a doctor. Something is wrong. I’m afraid for the baby, Tillie.”
Tillie stood, looking ferocious. “I know what is wrong! You need your husband home, that’s what’s wrong. He broke your heart and now you’re sick because of it! How dare he treat you so! How can he war againstus?” she cried.
Virginia did not know how to respond, because she had to wonder if Tillie was right. It almost seemed that whenever she heard word of him or his actions, or some war news that might involve him, she could not breathe and she felt faint. It was as if her anxiety over where her husband was and what he was doing was simply too much for her to bear. And seeing him so briefly last week—being in his arms one more time—made her love him more than ever. It made their separation hurt more than ever, too. Virginia desperately yearned for the future. Just as desperately, she feared what that day might bring.
But when Doc Barnes visited the next day, he insisted it was exhaustion combined with her pregnancy and the strain of the war. “A small woman like you needs a man at home to run things,” he said, snapping closed his satchel. “I heard all about that husband of yours, fighting for the enemy! No good can come of a divided marriage, missy. I feel right in telling you that, as I’ve known you since you were born.”
Still in bed and feeling somewhat better, Virginia smiled at him. “So what do you suggest?”
