She moved slightly against him. He held her closer. “Are you cold?”
“No.”
“Hungry?”
“No,” she replied again.
He rose slightly upon an elbow, enjoying the beautiful slope and angle and shadow of her back and derriere in the near-total darkness.
He watched her in the darkness, then came back beside her. Her eyes were more than half closed as exhaustion claimed her. He softly stroked the flesh of her arm, then lay down beside her again and very gently took her into his arms. He wanted to apologize again; he could not. He held her for a long while, then whispered to her softly, “Amanda, trust in me. Dear God, trust in me, please.”
She did not reply. He didn’t know if she truly slept, or if she simply didn’t have an answer for him.
In the days that followed Eric gave Amanda news about the convention, warning her that the time was coming close when they might be facing armed conflict. A summons came from the governor, which Eric quickly answered. Lord Dunmore was fuming. He had been furious that he had been ignored when he had issued a proclamation that all magistrates—and others—should use their utmost endeavors to prevent the election of delegates to the Second Continental Congress.
Amanda was sure that Dunmore would be furious with Eric, but he did not balk from the summons. What went on in the interview, she did not know, but she was certain that the total rift between them was begun that day.
When he returned to the town house, she ran down the stairs to the parlor to meet him. “What happened?” she asked anxiously.
He set his gloves and plumed tricorn upon the table, and looked her way. “It will come to war, Amanda. I wonder, will you be with me, or against me?”
“I—I can’t deny my loyalties!” she told him, begging him with her eyes to understand. She was grasping at straws, she thought. He had caught her slipping from the house. He knew that she had lied about thinking she might be with child.
She had betrayed him, and he knew it, and he would not trust her, or love her, again.
He nodded, looking at her, looking past her. “Let your heart lie where it will. But follow my commands, my love!” he warned softly.
She did not answer, but fled up the stairs.
Several nights later, just as dawn came on April 20, Amanda lay beside him, naked, content, secure within his arms. She had not known until he had returned just how bitterly she had missed him. She loved just being held, just sleeping with the fall of his bronze arm upon her. She liked to awaken and see the angle of his jaw; she thrilled to the striking planes of his face, to the crisp mat of dark hair upon his chest, to the rugged texture of his hard-muscled and masculine thighs entangled with her own.
Shouts in the street suddenly startled her. She started to rise, half asleep, confused. Beside her, Eric bolted up and strode quickly to the window.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. A crowd. A huge crowd.” He found his breeches and stumbled into them. He threw open the window and shouted down to the street. “My good man! What goes on down there.”
“The powder! The arms. The bloody redcoats marines came in off theFoweyin the James and stole our supplies from the magazine! We’re not a-goin’ to take it, Lord Cameron! We can’t!”
“Son of a bitch!” Eric muttered. He grabbed his shirt and boots. Clutching the sheet, Amanda stared at him.
“They’ll march on the palace!” she said.
He cast her a quick glance. “Bloodshed here and now must be avoided!” he said, but she didn’t think that he was really talking to her, but rather thinking aloud. He reached for his frock coat and she leapt from the bed at last.
“Eric—”
“Amanda, go back to sleep.”
“Go back to sleep!” she wailed, but he was already leaving her, closing the door behind him.
She watched him go, then quickly dressed and followed him out.
When she left the house, she knew that she was followed. Jacques Bisset had followed her every move since Eric had left her in January. She didn’t mind. She was fascinated by the man, and she always felt safe with him behind her.
And she’d had no more demands from her father since she had given him the map.
It was not difficult to follow Eric. The roar and pulse of the crowd could be heard and felt from afar. Amanda hurried toward the Capitol. It seemed that the whole population of Williamsburg had turned out in a fury.
