“I wonder if I do have one at all,” Amanda said sweetly. The company about them laughed; Eric did not.
“Well, we’ve something of a stew to eat tonight,” Anne Marie said. “Please, everyone, sit. We’ll have something.”
Amanda felt acutely uncomfortable, a guest in her husband’s living quarters, while Anne Marie was the very comfortable hostess. She held tight to her temper, noting as she sat that a woman’s cloak was upon the crude peg by the door and that there seemed to be other signs of constant feminine occupation of the hut, such as the lace dusters on the table sills. The main room consisted of the hearth, a large raw center table, and some poorly crafted chairs. There was a doorway leading to a second room. It was cracked open and Amanda could see a rope bed within it, covered it by a thin green blanket. There were trunks and a desk within the bedroom too, but everything seemed sparse and empty and cold.
She caught Eric’s eyes. A trace of amusement flickered across them, as if he thought that she had surveyed her surroundings and found them entirely lacking. As if she were wishing that she had not come.
Well, she was not. Reckless and irritated, she tossed back a stray curl and bent her head to listen to General Washington as he spoke, assuring Damien had they had come from hard times before. “And curious pieces of luck have been ours, as if God does smile upon us now and then. Monsieur Bisset, did you know that we barely reached Trenton? We did so by a play of card, can you imagine? Colonel Johann Rail was playing poker on Christmas Eve, and was so engrossed that when a messenger handed him a warning that we were launching a surprise attack, he merely shoved it into his pocket. The note was discovered only after the attack, when the colonel lay dead.”
“One might say,” Damien joked, “General, that you were the one holding the full house.”
“Ah, yes. But how fickle is life, eh?”
“How fickle indeed,” Geneva murmured.
“You see,” Mrs. Washington said, rising to ladle out the stew, “God is on our side. We’ve only to wait and see!”
She was a determined woman, determined to make the night go smoothly. Baron Von Steuben, another volunteer to the American cause, arrived, and was fed, and explained some kind of a military tactic to the men. The hour grew late. Mrs. Washington told Geneva that they had an extra room where she might sleep while other arrangements were being made, and people began to leave. “I guess Jacques and I get the floor out here, eh, Lord Cameron?” Damien asked. There was still that edge to his voice.
“It’s the best I have to offer,” Eric replied, his tone cool in return.
“I must get back,” Anne Marie said.
“I will escort you,” Eric told her. He didn’t glance toward Amanda as he took his great cloak from the peg. Anne Marie said good-bye to Amanda, then walked out into the cold wind. It buffeted her. Amanda gritted her teeth as she saw Eric reach for the woman instantly, catching her arm.
What went on here? She wanted to be reasonable, and logical, but he spent years calling her a liar and traitor, while he had always had another woman right behind him while he went to war.
And now Jacques and Damien were both in the main room, and unless she chose to cast aside her pride totally and have an argument that would draw them all in, she had no choice but to smile and say good night sweetly and walk into her husband’s bedroom. She wanted to throw something—and preferably right at Eric!
She removed the blanket from his bed and sat down by the fire, drawing the blanket around her. Twenty minutes later she heard the door open and then slam closed, and then she heard Eric speaking softly with Jacques. She smiled, hoping that he imagined her eagerly awaiting him. He would find things far different.
But she never knew what he imagined. The door opened and he stood there, pulling off his gloves. His eyes fell upon her with little surprise. Coming in, he closed the door softly and leaned against it.
“So you rode in winter wind all this way to come and sleep upon a cold dirty hearth,” he said at last.
She rose to her knees, holding the blanket about her, nudging a log with a crude iron poker. “No, my lord Cameron. I did not come all this way to do so—but rather I arrived here and found it the expedient thing.”
He swore impatiently and crossed the floor to her, catching her hands and dragging her to her feet. “What are you talking about?” he demanded harshly.
“Anne Marie,” she said flatly.
His lip curled slightly. “Ah.”
“Ah! And that is all that you have to say?”
“What can I say? I’m sure that Damien has sliced me to ribbons on that matter, quite competently.”
Amanda jerked from his touch. Cold, she swallowed and forced herself to raise her chin. “You’ve nothing to say in defense.”
“I’ve much to say. I’ve never touched her—all right, that’s not exactly true. I kissed her once. When I had been told that you had sold out my inheritance and my marriage. And once again, quite innocently, before I left for France.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, watching her. “Of anything else, I am innocent.”
“Damien—”
“Damien is ever loyal to you, and he has not forgiven me the first.”
Her knees were trembling. She was afraid that she would completely lose her temper, that she would cry out in frustration and anger and pain. She could not tell if he was telling the truth or not, she knew only that they had been apart again and he was not glad to see her. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered.
“Amanda, my God—” He took a step impatiently toward her. She raised a hand against him and despite herself, her voice was high and close to tears.
