“I thank you for your concern, General Lewis. My wife will soon be leaving for France, where she will be safe from either side.”
He saluted and left then, nodding to Daniel. He mounted his horse, with Daniel behind him, and he started off for home. Seconds later he was galloping across Virginia fields, more than anxious to reach his home.
At the steps he dismounted. Pierre was there to take his mount, to greet him enthusiastically. “What happened here?” he demanded of his good servant. “The truth, Pierre. The truth of it.”
Pierre shrugged unhappily. “I don’t know the whole truth of it, my lord. Danielle was struck and has just regained consciousness, and she swears your lady innocent.”
“Danielle would swear her innocent were she caught in the king’s own arms!” Eric exclaimed.
Pierre shrugged unhappily. “She meant no harm to any of us. That monster Tarryton would have struck young Margaret, but Lady Cameron would not allow it.”
“But she went with Tarryton easily enough herself.”
Pierre lowered his head. “So it seemed,” he admitted softly.
“That is all I need for now, Pierre,” he said. “I want her taken to France tomorrow, as soon as I have left. I shall leave theGood Earthhere for that purpose. You will go with her, and Cassidy—”
“Cassidy thinks that he should be serving you, milord.”
“If he can keep my wife from mischief and harm, he will be serving me.”
“And Danielle?”
“Aye,” Eric said after a moment. “Danielle may accompany her.”
“How long shall we stay?”
“Till hell freezes over, so it seems!” Eric muttered. Then he sighed. “I don’t know as yet. You will go to the Comte de la Rochelle, who is with the court at Versailles. When this thing is solved, I will come for my lady and the rest of you.”
“Aye, my lord. And Cameron Hall?”
“Richard will remain here. He knows the place even better than I. He has kept things running so well.”
“If I may, milord, Lady Cameron has kept things running so well.”
“Then, Pierre, it shall not run so well, but there is nothing else that I can do. Is everything clear?”
“Aye, milord.”
“Good night then, Pierre.”
“Good night, milord.”
Eric started up the stairs to the house. Upon entering his home he saw the scorched walls and places where the fires had been beaten out. The faint smell of smoke still lay about the place, but very little had been harmed.
He looked up the stairs and hesitated, his fingers winding into fists by his side.
Then he started up the steps, and when he reached his own door he paused again.
Control…he warned himself.
He silently opened the door and stepped within the room.
Instantly his eyes fell upon her. Passion and desire combined with raw fury to sweep all his thoughts of a cold and distant reunion aside.
Steam still rose softly from a bath, but she was no longer within it. She stood by the window, her form draped in a towel, her features grave as she gazed upon the lawn, her hair high and sable and fire and gloss in a cascade of curls. She turned to him, her eyes wide and emerald and startled. There was an innocence, a vulnerability, to the way she clutched her towel to her breast. As if she held her innocence against him, as if they were strangers, never man and wife.
You are my wife! he vowed in silence.
