The governor stared at him in horrified disbelief. “Are you suggesting, sir, that we turn peaceful, Christian Indians over to them to be slaughtered?”
“No, sir. Nor am I defending their murder of the Conestogas—a reprehensible act. But I’m suggesting you take a moment to see this from their point of view. Men rarely act without reason, and barbarians are just as often English as Scottish or Indian. The killing must stop.”
Ben nodded thoughtfully. “Governor, we must proceed cautiously. We must think this through and not rush to fire those rifles, which until now have lain in happy neglect in our homes. Otherwise we shall make hypocrites of ourselves for all time.”
“And now if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, this topic of conversation is distressing to my wife.” Nicholas rose, helped Bethie to her feet. “Father, Jamie, if you wish to stay, I can have the carriage sent back for you.”
His father and Jamie nodded, and Nicholas could see they were both worried about Bethie and furious on her behalf. He had no doubt that franker, more heated words would be exchanged the moment she was out of earshot. He slipped his arm around her waist, thanked Ben for his hospitality, and led Bethie out to their waiting carriage.
***
Bethie laid a sleeping Belle in her cradle, felt Nicholas’s hands encircle her waist. They’d spoken little on the way home. Nicholas had been too angry and Bethie too near tears.
He turned her to face him, pressed her head against his bare chest. “I’m sorry, Bethie. No one meant to hurt you.”
She rested against his strength, felt tears sting her eyes, dreaded what she must say. “Whether they meant to hurt me or no’, they said what they feel to be true. And whether I love you or no’, I cannae be your wife.”
“You are my wife, Bethie, in every way that matters. I’ll not let you go.”
She looked up into his eyes. “And what of future parties, where people will tittle of the poor barbarian Scots-Irish girl Nicholas found on the frontier? What of your family if word of my... past reaches Virginia? What of our children, who will grow up in wealth and comfort to one day look upon their baseborn mother with shame and loathing? I couldna bear that!”
Tears poured freely down her cheeks now, and she fell across the bed.
She felt him stretch out beside her, did not resist when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her tears away. “That’s not going to happen. No child of my body could possibly feel anything but love for you.”
“’Tis sweet of you to say so, but you cannae know that for certain.”
“Aye, I can.” He pressed his hand against her belly above her womb. “I love you, Bethie Stewart. Any child you conceive of me will be born of that love. You’ll be a light to our children, as you are a light to Belle—as you are a light to me.”
She looked into his eyes, saw the full force of his feelings revealed there, felt as if her heart were singing.He loved her. Oh, how she had longed to hear those precious words! And yet... “I dinnae know if our love will be enough.”
“It will be more than enough.” Then he covered her mouth with his, and she forgot everything but him.
***
Nicholas held Bethie in his arms, watched her sleep, the air still warm with the musky scent of sex. If he lived a thousand years, he would never grow tired of her.
How he wished they were already well on their way to Virginia. But they weren’t. They were here in Philadelphia in the middle of what promised to be a bloodbath unless the frontiersmen from Paxton could be persuaded to leave in peace.
God, he was sick of the violence! He was sick of killing. He was sick of watching other people kill and be killed. For six long years, he’d been surrounded by death, immersed in it, coupled with it. No matter how many men he’d killed, there was always another. And another. And another. In this war, killing seemed always to lead not to peace, but to more killing. And as men struggled to survive, the innocent inevitably paid the highest price.
The peaceful citizens of Philadelphia didn’t stand a chance against seasoned Scots-Irish frontiersmen who’d spent the past ten years fighting for their lives. But the Scots-Irish would certainly find defeat at the hands of the disciplined British garrison. Either way, once the shooting started, innocent people would die. And although Nicholas felt reasonably certain he’d be able to keep Bethie and Belle safe should fighting erupt in the city, he did not want to see it come to that. Not again.
It had to end. Somehow the killing had to end.
And then it came to him. He knew what he had to do.
Whether it would work he had no idea. But he knew he had to try.
Nicholas pulled Bethie closer, looked out the window, and waited for dawn.
Chapter 31
Bethie watched sleepily, felt the stirrings of arousal as Nicholas got out of bed and strode naked to the wardrobe. His dark hair hung down almost to the muscular curves of his buttocks, which tightened and shifted as he slipped into his leather breeches. He pulled his linsey-woolsey shirt over his head, tucked it into the waist of his breeches, turning as the cloth slid down his chest to give her one last glimpse of his muscular belly.
It wasn’t until he reached for his pistols that she awoke fully. Then the events of the night before came flooding back to her, and she remembered.
She sat up, not aroused now, but afraid. “Nicholas? Where are you goin’?”
