Eric’s eyes remained upon Amanda’s. He smiled. “We must pick them up. They go to the brig, Frederick, but by all means, we must pick up the living!”
Frederick turned to go about his task. “Will you go back to the cabin now?” Eric asked her.
She nodded, smiling, and turned around.
That night was so very different from that long-ago June day when she had been forced to accompany Robert Tarryton. Now she was heartily cheered by all of the ship. The maids and servants and craftspeople and artisans hurried down to greet the ship, eager for a glimpse of the Cameron heir. Eric held the twins up high, one in each arm, and accepted the congratulations of his servants, slaves, and dependents. A coach awaited them. Amanda returned to the house alone—Eric had the business of the British prisoners to deal with and more. Her heart caught as they approached the house, and then she seemed to grow warm, and tears burned her eyes. She loved the place so very much! She hoped that it would not be awkward there, that enough of the people knew her and loved her well enough to understand that she had not betrayed them.
“My lady!” Richard, too excited to be staid, came running down the steps, eager to snatch away one of the twins. “Two! Two! Why, we’d no idea. Of course, we’d no idea at all until Lord Cameron sent word. I do declare, milady, but the lad looks like his father did! Just alike. And with a mat of hair upon his head too! But then, who knows, we cannot tell until the wee ones have grown a bit, eh, madame? But you must be weary, come, come along now!”
Amanda smiled, following Richard. When she entered the hallway she saw that Margaret was standing on the stairway, very still and very white. The servant lowered her head and hurried down the steps. “I’ll leave, milady. I needed me wages, so I waited here working, but I’ll leave—”
“Margaret, you needn’t leave. No one need leave. You thought that I had betrayed this hall—I can only swear to you that I did not. If you believe in me, you are welcome to stay.”
Margaret was crying. “Thank you. Thank you, milady. May I tell the same to Remy?”
Remy had actually spat at her. Amanda ground her teeth. How could she condemn the servant when her husband still did not believe in her?
“Yes,” she said softly. “Remy may stay.”
Before Margaret could start thanking her again, Amanda hurried on up the stairs. Richard came along, and Danielle with Lenore. Richard showed her to the nursery—the room that had once been hers had been cleverly converted with a basin and drawers suitable for the blankets and tiny garments of a babe, and a beautiful bassinet with mosquito netting draped about it. “There’s two, milady, you needn’t fret! There’s been twins before, there will be twins again, I daresay! We’ll have the second down in no time.”
“That’s fine. I shall take both babies in with me for a while,” Amanda assured Richard.
“Yes, milady. And may I say welcome home. We’ve missed you, we have!”
She smiled. “Yes, Richard, you may say so. Thank you.”
Amanda brought the twins in with her to nurse, and when they had become sated and slept, she called for Danielle. By then both bassinets were ready. The two women set the babes to sleep for their first night in their own home.
When she returned to her own room, she discovered that Richard had sent her a steaming tub, with French soap and huge snowy towels and a silver tray filled with wine and plate of ham swimming in honey and raisin sauce with fresh green beans and summer squash. She smiled with gratitude, then she shivered slightly, remembering how like that last night things seemed.
Still, she sipped the wine and sank into the bath. There had been no such luxury over the nine weeks it had taken them to return. When she finished she stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in the towel, drying her hair before the fire. Then, with her towel swept around her, she sat at her dressing table and started to brush out her hair.
And it was then that he entered the room. In his boots, breeches, and open-necked shirt, he stepped into the room and closed the door. Amanda turned slowly around to meet his gaze. He strode slowly across the room until he came to her. Then he lowered himself upon one knee before her and touched her shoulders. His hands moved slowly over and around her breasts, and the towel fell away. She caught her breath, wishing that she were not so eager for him. But firelight danced in his eyes, and in her own, and with a poignant ache she realized that it had been a year since he had touched her. She could not protest what she desired with all of her heart, and if things were not perfect between them, she was still his wife. And she was here once again, in the room they shared. No matter what his words, no matter how he fought her, she could see and feel the heat of the desire about him, and instinctively she knew that he had never wanted another woman as he wanted her.
“Perhaps I should go,” he told her. “Maybe I’ve no right to be here, madame.”
She swallowed, alarmed at the strength of the sensations that swept through her at the simple soft stroke of his fingers upon her swollen breasts, rolling lightly over the dusky rose of her nipples, stroking again the under-flesh.
“I have waited for you,” she told him solemnly.
“And I have been the worst fool in the world, and if you had sent me away, lady, God help me, there is no way that I could have gone.”
He stood and scooped her up into his arms. When he lay her down upon the bed, he paused and looked over the length of her. An soft explosion, a curse, a cry, escaped him, and then he was upon her. He had never touched her with such care, with such tenderness. His touch stirred her, his kiss aroused and awoke her, and as his lips and fingertips and tongue traveled and caressed the length of her, whispers, then moans, escaped her. He drew her ever upward, and when she thought that she would cry out and beg that she could bear no more, he would gently ease her just slightly downward again, his tongue delving soft and vulnerable flesh.
And when he came to her she did cry out, shuddering, holding tight, winding her limbs about him. The need to be with him was so great, the strength of his body so shocking, that she nearly whispered all that she felt. She almost told him that she loved him. But just in time, she bit back the words, and she cried out her longing instead and he dove and swept within her, becoming the world, searing her soul, taking all of her, and bringing everything of life, and just a little bit of death.
There was no time for them. Perhaps that was the most bitter fact that she seemed always to have to face. Eric was gone all the next day, seeing to the estate, the planting, the horses, the building, the repairs. They did not even have dinner together, but Amanda waited, and when he came to her, she welcomed him with her body silken, her arms eager to close about him. They made love until it was nearly dawn, holding tight.
In the morning it was time for him to leave again. It was the middle of June, and Eric had been away from the war a long time. Virginia was peaceful enough, but the British offensive was moving in the northern states, and there had already been several battles.
As usual, Amanda stood on the steps, ready to watch Eric ride away. He was upon Joshua, ever the excellent horseman, exceedingly handsome in his uniform with his plumed hat, high boots, his hair still damp. Amanda approached him with the stirrup cup, for it was tradition now, and as he returned the cup to her, she met his eyes with her own wide and grave upon his. “I never did betray this hall, Eric,” she told him.
He leaned down to kiss her lips. “Care for them, Amanda. For the twins. And if anything happens to me, fight for this place. With whatever you have. It is their heritage.”
He kissed her again. Tears flooded her eyes, and she stepped back. He was riding away to war again, and though he might love her, he still did not trust her. He did not believe her, and he was telling her that if the war was lost, she was to keep Cameron Hall by any means available—including a plea to the British should the master of Cameron Hall be hanged.
She watched the horses ride away. “I do love you,” she whispered aloud. But there was no one to hear.
