Amanda felt a chill of fear sweep over her, and she swallowed hard to keep tears from rising to her eyes. She could see it. She would hear the drums beat. Hanging. It was a just punishment for treason. They would lead her along. They would set the rope around her neck, and she would feel the bristle of the hemp against her flesh.
Dunmore had sworn that he would have Eric hanged, were he ever to get his hands upon him. But Eric had never cared. Amanda wondered what fever it was that could fill a man with such haunting loyalty to a desperate cause. It was a passion that made him turn his back on his estates in England, risk his wealth and title and prestige and even his life. He had everything, and he was willing to cast it aside for this rebel cause of his.
She had risked her life upon occasion for her cause. Indeed, her very life might well stand on the line now.
The young officer stared at her still. He sighed softly again. “Milord, surely youcannothave her hanged!”
“Nay, I cannot,” Eric agreed ironically, the silver and steel of his eyes upon her, “for she is, you see, my wife.”
The man gasped. Eric turned to him impatiently. “Tell Daniel to set a course for Cameron Hall. Have someone come for this lieutenant. The Brits must be buried at sea; our own will find rest at home.” He turned back to Amanda. “My love, I shall see you later.” He bowed deeply to her, and then he was gone, the young officer on his heels. Two men quickly appeared, nodding her way in silence, and carefully picked up the body of the slain Highland lieutenant.
Then the door closed. Sharply.
He was gone. Eric was gone. The tempest had left the room, and still she was trembling, still she was in fear, and still she didn’t know whether to thank God or to damn him. They had been apart so long, and now the war had come to them, and the battle was raging in her very soul.
Amanda cast herself upon the captain’s bunk, her heart racing. Through the sloop’s handsome draperies and the fine paned windows she could see the distant shore, the land they approached.
Cameron Hall. Rising white and beautiful upon the hill, the elegant manor house itself seemed to reproach her. It looked so very peaceful! The British had set their fires, but Robert had spoken the truth about the blazes. Obviously those fires had been put out with very little difficulty.
No dark billow of smoke marred the house or the outbuildings. Only the warehouses on the dock seemed to have burned with a vengeance. They were not so important. It was the house that mattered, she thought. She loved the house, more than Eric himself did, perhaps. It had been her haven in need. And in the turbulent months that had passed, she had strode the portrait gallery, and she had imagined the lives of those women who had come before her. She had seen to the polishing of their silver, she had taken tender care of the bedding and furnishings they had left behind.
A chill swept through her suddenly.
He wasn’t going to hang her. What was he going to do with her? Could she vow that she would not leave the house, that she would take no more part in the war? She could never, never have set fire to the house. But he would never believe that now.
She closed her eyes and heard the orders to dock. She imagined the men, pulling in theLady Jane’s sails, furling them tightly as the ship found her deep-water berth. She heard the fall of the plank, and the call of victory as men walked ashore.
The patriots had needed that victory! The British were heading toward New York, and Washington hadn’t enough troops to meet them properly. The colonials were up against one of the finest fighting forces in the world.
Oh, couldn’t he see! she thought in anguish. The British would win in the end, and they would hang Eric! They would hang him and George Washington and Patrick Henry and the Adamses and Hancock and all those foolish, foolish men!
The door opened again. Amanda sprang up. Her heart seemed to sink low in her chest. Frederick had come for her, the printer from Boston. Eric had saved his life once, and she knew Frederick would gladly die for him now.
“Where is Eric?” she demanded.
“Your husband will be with you soon enough, milady,” Frederick said. “He has asked me to escort you to the house.”
“Escort me?”
“Milady, none of us would seek to harm you.” He was quiet for a moment. “Even if you are a spy.”
“Frederick, please, I—”
His anguished eyes fell upon hers. “Oh, milady! Cameron Hall! How could you have betrayed his very home?”
“I did not, Frederick,” she said wearily.
“Then—”
“I have no defense,” she told him.
“Milady, I will take your word.”
“Thank you.” She did not tell him that her husband would not do so. She lowered her eyes quickly, feeling that tears sprang to them. If he had condemned her, if he had spoken with fury or wrath, it would have been easier.
“Come now,” he said.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked him.
