Robert. His memory tugged at her heart, even if she had forced it to grow cold. She had dreamed too often of his golden head beside her own upon a pillow. She still had visions of little children, their little children, laughing and running about the house on Christmas day.
“Goodnight, Danielle,” she said, more abruptly than she had intended. The woman stiffened, and Amanda immediately regretted her harsh tone. She raced over and hugged her. “I’m sorry, Dani. It’s just that—I loved him, you see. And Lord Cameron—” She paused, shivering. “He might well be a traitor.”
“Tell me,petite, what is a traitor but a man with a different cause? The British exiled me from my homeland. They took everything. The French were not there for me. I was Acadian, lost. And now I listen to the people on the streets and I know.”
“You are a Virginian.”
“I am an American,” Danielle said with quiet dignity, and she smiled. “Who can ever say? If one wages war and is victorious, he is a hero,c’est vrai?If he wages war and loses, then he is a traitor, it is so simple.”
Danielle pulled away from Amanda for a moment, studying her eyes. “Whatever else Lord Cameron may be, Amanda, he is a man who would be true to his own honor, and if he loved you, he would never betray you, as others have done.” Danielle smiled, and then left.
Amanda watched after her, then she locked the door with the key and went back to the bed. She stared at the candle on the bedside, then snuffed out the flame, swearing. “Damn! He is a traitor, and a rogue, and so help me, I will use him as is necessary!”
She crawled beneath the covers, still shivering. It was not so cold a night, but the fire in the hearth was very low, and there was an autumn snap in the air. It was definitely the cold, she assured herself, that brought about her shivers, and nothing else.
She closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to ease her soul. No matter how she tried, though, she could not drift into slumber. She was haunted by visions of the day, of her father in the governor’s delightful rose garden, calling her mother a whore. Callinghera whore. Threatening her. And then her father’s face faded away, and she saw Eric Cameron before her with his steely eyes, watching her, knowing…something. Chess pieces moved before her. Gravely he leaned toward her. “Checkmate, milady. Checkmate.”
She jerked up suddenly. She must have dozed, because she had now awakened. She didn’t know why; she didn’t know what she had felt.
The fire had gone down to almost nothing, and the window was open—she could see the drapes flowing soft and white into the room. She could have sworn that the window had been closed when she had lain down.
She tossed her covers aside and set her bare feet upon the floor, then hurried to the window. The moon was sending down shafts of light and the breeze was picking up. The drapes swirled, and the soft silk of her gown rose against her legs, rippling around her.
She sensed a shadow in the room. She turned about, but the moonlight had blinded her, and now she could not see. But she wasn’t alone; she could feel someone else there.
“Who—who is it!” She gasped. She wanted to scream, but the words came out in a whisper.
There was a sudden motion. She saw the dark silhouette as it approached her, and she inhaled to scream. A hand fell across her lips. She kicked viciously and contacted human flesh, but then she was swept up high and tossed down hard upon the bed. Dazed, she tried to roll away, and she was wrenched back as the dark shadow fell upon her. She twisted, freeing her knee and her mouth. She gasped, but again no sound managed to escape, for a hand fell back down upon her, firmly clamping down upon her jaw and mouth, and she felt forceful arms lock tight around her. Wildly she clutched at the fingers that held her, raking them with her nails. Her hands were quickly caught and she was pushed down deeply into the bed. The attacker was still behind her, a leg cast over her, his one arm beneath her as his fingers stifled her breath and words, his other arm around her like an iron band, his hand beneath her breast, holding her taut and hard against his body.
“Shush,” he whispered. Warm breath, scented with a pleasant masculine combination of brandy and good pipe tobacco, swirled against her cheek. She tried to bite, but she could not, she was held too tightly. She tried to squirm away, and she realized with horror that her movement brought the hem of her gown high up, baring her legs, and tugged the bodice of her gown even lower. She could feel his fingers upon the fullness of her breasts through the flimsy lace of the gown. “Lady, I mean it, not a whisper. And be still.” She went dead still, not to be obedient, but with shock. It was Lord Cameron!
With the realization she panicked. She tried to kick and thrash again. He swore with no heed for her fair sex, then wrested her beneath him, his thighs taut about hers, his hand now a brutal clamp upon her mouth, and the length of him leaned low and close to her. She had no breath; she feared that she would faint. She could see his eyes flashing in the curious combination of the dying fire’s glow and the moonlight, and there was no love, and no humor, within them now.
“Be still,” he warned her again, staring into her eyes, daring her to defy him. Slowly he moved his hand.
“Get off me! I shall scream to high heaven!” she warned him.
“Yes, that’s quite what I’m afraid of,” he told her. She gasped then, for she realized that he now had a knife in his hand. He had slipped it from a sheath at his calf while he spoke. He lay the blade low between the valley of her breasts. She inhaled raggedly, fought for courage, then stared into his eyes again.
“You wouldn’t do it. You wouldn’t take a knife against an innocent woman.”
“But you’re not an innocent woman,” he told her.
He knew. He had seen her take the envelope. Fear rushed through her. “You would not slay me, I know it. And I will scream. I find you despicable! How dare you come in here. I will scream, and my father will see that you hang—”
“Your father very well may wish to see me hang at some point, but I’d wager it would not be now. And what happened to the sweet apology you offered me earlier this very eve?” he demanded. “I warn you again, lady—” He paused, letting her feel the cold blade of the knife. “You shall be greatly distressed.”
“You’ve broken into my room—into the governor’s palace!” She smiled suddenly, lifting her chin. He wouldn’t hurt her, and she knew it. She opened her mouth to scream, heedless of the consequences.
His fingers slapped back over her mouth. The blade of the knife moved swiftly in seconds, and she discovered that although her flesh remained unharmed, her garment was in shreds, and her breasts were spilling free from the silk and lace bodice. “Lady, I will wrest you from this place stark naked if you are not silent, and that is a promise. I will parade you down the streets of Williamsburg, and there are enough people here to enjoy it, for Tories such as yourself are not gaining much popularity these days.”
“You wouldn’t—”
“Don’t ever tempt me too far. There are many things that I would like to do.”
“You bas—” she began.
“No, no, milady. You are forewarned. Take care.”
