***
Four more days passed, days of tense silence, days of hunger. The wood was almost gone. There was no flour, no cornmeal. Only salt pork and a bit of beef remained. In every heart lurked one shared fear—that Colonel Bouquet and his troops had been ambushed and defeated.
Bethie began to suspect she was losing her milk, as Belle seemed always to be hungry. Nicholas had opened his stores of salt pork and pemmican and shared them in secret with her, giving her the larger portion despite her protests.
“I’m used to going hungry. You’ve a baby to feed.”
And although some short forays were made to the king’s garden, they were repulsed by the Delaware, who, though reduced in numbers, now considered the garden and its bounty theirs and kept it under close watch.
And so the weary occupants of Fort Pitt sat hungry in the heat—and waited.
August 10, 1763
Bethie was having the most delicious dream. Nicholas was making love to her, entering her from behind as she slept on her side, his lips on her nape, his fingers teasing her most sensitive spot, flicking it, rubbing it, caressing it.
She awakened to hear herself cry out as the bliss of climax washed through her, sweet as the sunrise.
He nuzzled her ear, his voice deep and husky. “Good morning.”
As the last ripples of pleasure faded into languor, he began to move again, thick and hard inside her. He wasn’t finished with her yet.
He drew her onto her knees, spread her thighs farther apart, thrust into her hard, his hands grasping her hips as he built the rhythm, stroke upon stroke. “Oh, God, woman, you feel good!”
She felt his stones slap against her, felt his power as he drove into her, filled her, his cock striking just there, where she needed it most. And then it hit her, harder than before—not sweet, but wrenching, overpowering. She cried out, called his name as her inner muscles quaked in fierce ecstasy, bringing him to a shuddering climax inside her.
For a while they lay in each other’s arms, hovering on the edge of sleep.
Then they heard the sound of rifle fire, shouts, drums.
Nicholas kissed her, leapt from the bed, his face grave. “Stay here.”
But as he drew on his breeches, there came a knocking at the door.
Nicholas opened it to find Private Fitchie, an enormous smile on his young face. “They’ve made it, sir! They’re just outside the gates! They won a great battle at Bushy Run, and they’re here! It’s over, Master Kenleigh!”
Nicholas felt a warm rush of relief, saw tears well up in Bethie’s sweet eyes. She didn’t know it, but he’d been planning to leave the fort with her tonight, to sneak out under cover of darkness, to take his chances with her and little Belle in the wild.
Now he wouldn’t have to.
He shucked his breeches, crawled back into bed beside her, pulled her against him, stroked the tangled silk of her hair.
She sniffed back her tears. “It’s over, Nicholas! It’s really over!”
He nudged her with his revived erection. “Is it now, lass? Or maybe it’s just beginnin’.”
***
Life at Fort Pitt changed overnight. The king’s garden and surrounding fields were harvested, their bounty added to the fresh provisions brought by Bouquet’s troops. Four hundred additional regulars meant more labor for rebuilding the damaged walls, preparing for another onslaught should one come. And Bouquet, hearing how the Indians had hidden along the riverbank and had only been dislodged with great daring, ordered the building of several redoubts at key points outside the fort overlooking the river.
Bouquet was effusive in his praise of all who had fought in the battle—British regulars, militiamen, farmers. He thanked Nicholas personally. But Nicholas was appalled to hear him likewise praise Écuyer for giving infected blankets to the Indians.
“Governor Amherst and I had discussed doing just that in our letters these past months, and you were bold enough to enact it on your own. Well done, Écuyer.”
Écuyer bowed his head. “I am your very humble and obedient servant, sir. But I fear it had no effect.”
Nicholas turned his back and walked away.
The day after his arrival, Bouquet gave the orders that all women, children, and other “useless” people should prepare to leave two days hence for Ligonier under heavy military escort. It was on that day Bouquet summoned Nicholas to his office for a private meeting with him and Écuyer.
