Handfasted to You: Timeswept Soulmates (Timeless Brides Book 2) Page 8

  “Well, after meeting her, I have discovered that she is pretty demanding,” he teased, pulling her to him.

  “What?” she squawked, surprised. “Demanding?”

  “Coming up with things I need to repair already.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to fix the stairs!”

  “I do like seeing you scoot down them,” he teased. “It gives me an eyeful.”

  “No, it doesn’t, I had my shift down!”

  “I’m teasing you,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. “I find that I like teasing you, Wife. It amuses me.”

  “Oh, well then, tease away, kind sir,” she said heatedly, tugging at the tie for his pants. Blushing at how forward it must seem to him, she bit her lip and asked quietly, “Shouldn’t you be doing something else instead? Perhaps another sort of teasing?” Her words were breathless as she met his heated gaze. That look held so much promise and desire, she knew just what she was asking for.

  “Agreed,” he said, picking her up and carrying her to the bed where he kept her the remainder of the day.

  The next morning, William helped Emeline dress so he could show her around and introduce her to a few of his friends. She had met Sam but it wasn’t under the best conditions. He was afraid to have Sam pick up the rifle stocks at the house. While before he didn’t want to hang, now, he was afraid to have him hang and have her held responsible as well. Dying as a traitor was bad enough, but dragging his new wife into it was horrifying. He would need to speak with Sam and they would have to come up with an alternate plan to get the stocks out of the house. He couldn’t take a chance on Emeline being involved.

  She seemed anxious to see her new home. She had so many questions and he could see the excitement in her eyes. She asked to see “everything” possible, including Boston Harbor – but from a distance. While it seemed odd, the way she said it seemed very important to her. Maybe she was scared of the water? He would take her about, as long as the weather held. It being March, he didn’t want to get caught in a snowstorm unawares. She had shown up at the house without a cloak. He refused to let her walk around town without one now.

  Emeline dutifully wore the heavy garments that William selected for her. He said that he would take her for a walk around and that excited her. She loved seeing travel photos online. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see it in person. The first thing she noticed when she stepped out the door was the cobblestone roads. Funky! she thought, but gorgeous! There were several buildings that looked to be new but built in an old style to her. She had never seen such flat front houses and buildings before. Signs hung out from wrought iron hooks signifying different shops and inns. The streets weren’t crowded at all. In fact, few people were out milling about. Several British soldiers watched them closely and Emeline saw William pull his tricorn down low over his brow.

  “Don’t make eye contact or antagonize them, Emeline,” he whispered in a hushed voice. “Drop your eyes, Woman.”

  “I’m not doing anything wrong by looking around,” she whispered in return, aggravated that he was ordering her about. Gone, was the loving man she had met. In his place, was a hard, wary man. Was this what it was like to live here? To be on edge, waiting for danger to rear its ugly head?

  “I never claimed you were, however, they are looking for the slightest excuse to…”

  “To what? Investigate you?” she snapped back aggressively, stopping his curt words. She had never been one to be a meek person.

  “Emeline!” he whispered angrily, grabbing her upper arm to spin her around towards him. He rushed to kiss her, but it was only to keep her quiet. Instead of it being a tender kiss, it was an angry peck on the lips and their eyes stared hotly at each other over their noses.

  “I would never say a word,” she promised, quietly between them. Her lips stung from the hard pressure of his mouth.

  “Then don’t,” he said tightly, kissing her again so he could whisper in her ear. “You jeopardize not only yourself, but my life as well as several others by even suspecting, dear wife. Things are not good right now.”

  “No, I know. We are stuck in the middle of it,” she said absently, looking around.

  “You have no concept of what is going on.”

  “Actually, I kind of do.”

  “I think, perhaps, we need to talk more in private. Would you like to go to a coffeehouse or would you like to continue our discussion at home?” he bit out. She saw the tick in his jaw that showed his restraint. Maybe things were more strained than she had thought?

  “Coffeehouse,” she said apologetically, realizing she had crossed a line with him. “William, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said quickly. “Be cautious! More so than you have ever been in your entire life. They need little excuse to fine us or house themselves in our homes. I cannot have them underfoot, lest we chance getting caught as traitors to the Crown. We cannot take chances, Wife.”

  They walked silently along the street, her hand resting on his tense arm. The tension was palpable between them. Emeline found herself aching to see his smile or hear his laugh. She felt almost compelled to break the silence between them. Ahead, she could see a large, snow-covered field in the distance. “Is that Common Green?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “There is a large tree there?” Damn, it was like pulling teeth to get him to talk now! There were more people passing in the streets. It really was a charming town. She would nod her head politely following his lead each time they would pass.

  His golden-brown eyes had a suspicious look to them, surprising her. “Yes, why do you ask?”

  “Curious, that’s all,” she said evasively, craning her neck to see around his large frame.

  Taking her arm, he pulled her into the alleyway by the coffeehouse. “What is going on? I thought you had not been to Boston before?”

  “You’re hurting me,” she said, yanking her arm away defensively. “Were you there or something? I’m just trying to have a conversation with you.” He was stronger than she had realized and yanking away had hurt her arm. Rubbing the tender spot, she heard his voice lower suddenly. There was a tone that should have alarmed her, but she missed it completely.

  “Where?”

  Dropping her voice, she leaned towards him, “When that guy was tarred and feathered? Tell me you didn’t participate in that fiasco. How painful that must have been! I imagine his screams would haunt me.”

  “Who are you?” he asked, looking stunned. His handsome face paled. The tense expression he had earlier was gone. Now, he looked perplexed and almost afraid to hear her answer.

  “We are in danger here. I know it, but I want to know how deep you are involved and if it will affect you and me. I believe I have a right to know.”

  “We have no rights at this time. That’s part of the problem. Who are you?”

  “I know that, too,” she nodded, patting his hand absently.

  “I don’t want to repeat myself again, Emeline,” he demanded firmly. “Who are you? Are you British?”

  “Do I even sound British?” she whispered in retort. Staring at him, she saw confusion and something else in his eyes. Mirrors to the soul, she thought, marveling at how expressive he could be sometimes.

  “No,” he said evenly. “How do you know it was there or the name of that field if you’ve never travelled to Boston?”

  “I know of it, I didn’t know who was there. William, how deep in this are you?”

  “Deep enough,” he said simply. He repeated the foreign slang back, staring at her with an odd expression. “Emeline, who is your source? Are you a spy?”

  “No,” she said simply. “William, I am here to help.”

  “You can’t be involved,” he said fiercely, shaking his head in denial. As people walked by closely, he suddenly stopped talking. He tipped his hat politely. They both stood silently near the exit of the alleyway until the people cleared.

  “You will need me, need my help. Has the massacre happene
d yet?” she questioned, wishing she knew the dates better. She knew it was in the wintertime, just not what year it happened. “Lexington? Concord?”

  “What about them?” he asked. His face was completely pale. He was processing what she was saying and it was not boding well for her. It seemed the more she asked, the worse his expression got. William was currently leaning against a wall, staring at her. “Is that what is going to happen? A massacre? How do you know these things?”

  “William, don’t back away from me,” she whispered desperately. “I want to help!”

  “Are you a witch?” he asked horrified, jerking his hand from her. She felt the loss of their connection keenly, bringing tears to her eyes.

  “No! No, William. I am no witch, I promise you,” she denied vehemently. She pulled back her lost hand that trembled in the empty space between them. Putting her hands over her heart, subconsciously. She felt protective and she was losing him, or so it felt.

  “There’s been no massacre of any sort,” he whispered softly. “How many lose their lives?”

  “Lexington and Concord? Has Paul Revere made his ride? You know, ‘one if by land, two if by sea’. William, I promise you that I am here for you. For us. It seems so strange but…”

  “My God,” he said, backing away from her. “You know of Paul’s orders?”

  “Will? Please, William. Listen to me,” she pleaded as he stumbled backwards, away from her. “I am here to help.”

  Emeline watched horrified as he walked away from her, leaving her standing alone in the snow beside the coffeehouse. A Redcoat soldier took that moment to walk by and asked her if she needed assistance. “Yes, please. I would like directions on how to return to William Spencer’s shop. He is a carpenter.”

  “I don’t care what he is,” the Redcoat retorted. “I asked if you wanted assistance because you shouldn’t be out alone without a chaperone. Dove and strumpets walk the streets alone.” His nasty tone instantly sent off warning bells in her mind as he leered at her.

  “I’ve found you, Mistress Spencer,” she heard suddenly behind her before she could respond to the insult. Whirling around, she saw Samuel Adams walking up to her with a hard look to his face. “Your husband is ill and I have been sent to walk you home.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Adams. I appreciate your kindness,” she said simply and didn’t utter a word when Samuel grabbed her by the back of the arm, pulling her forward. Once they were a distance away, she tried to jerk her arm loose.

  “You’re hurting me. Can you turn me loose?” she asked simply.

  “Not really, because I don’t know whether or not to release you or lock you away.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I ran into your husband not far from where you were. He was beside himself with worry. His tender, new wife apparently had been carrying on that she was a rebel. That she knew Paul’s instructions that were given to him just a fortnight ago,” he said harshly. “That means you were either damned good at masquerading as a man at our last gathering or you are a spy. I won’t let you bring down a good man like William Spencer,” he said vehemently. “Regardless of his feelings for you.”

  “I would never do anything to harm William or jeopardize the rebellion.”

  Sam opened the side door to the home she and William shared. Emeline was quite literally tossed inside the door frame, landing on her side. A strong, tanned hand was extended towards her and she saw it was William. The once tender look he had was marred with confusion and distrust. Another man sat at the table, watching the entire scene.

  “Who’s he?” she asked simply. She was tempted to slap away William’s hand that he was offering but she didn’t want to ruin any budding relationship they had begun. She had already said too much. Being alone in Boston with no allies sounded distinctly unappealing.

  “You tell us,” Samuel said quietly, watching her keenly.

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly, taking William’s hand and standing. Samuel closed the door behind them both and set the bar.

  “How do you know Paul Revere’s instructions if the British were to come and attack?”

  “Honestly, it’s taught in our history classes and it was a rap song.”

  “What type of song?”

  “Look, it’s really hard to explain,” she said hesitantly, not wanting to be labeled as crazy or as a witch. “I want you to know that I am perfectly sane, but it sounds crazy,” she started.

  “Sing the song you spoke of,” Samuel ordered harshly while the other two sat quietly. William would not respond or say a word.

  “Oh no! Really? I am extremely bad at singing rap music. Duran Duran or Bon Jovi is much easier. Beastie Boys not so much,” she exclaimed dismayed.

  “Sing it,” Samuel ordered and placed his gun on the table. The veiled threat did not sit well with Emeline. But she was pleased to see William jump out of his seat in protest. The strange man put his arm out to restrain him and said something to William quietly that calmed him down immediately.

  As she started to rap the song, she quickly realized that it wasn’t actually about the midnight ride of Paul Revere. Her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. Abruptly stopping just as quickly as she started, she stood firm her ground.

  “Look, where I am from, everyone is taught as a child that Paul Revere will make a desperate ride to alert the people that the British are coming. One lamp if they are coming by land, two lamps if by sea. Lexington is known as the ‘Shot Heard Round the World’ because that is the official start of the American Revolution. You guys win, okay? You win! It’s a long war but you win and become independent from Britain,” she said earnestly. “There are a lot of bad things that are going to happen, but you actually win your freedom.”

  “What kind of bad things?” the unknown man asked firmly.

  “The Boston Massacre. People are shot when the British soldiers fire their guns into a crowd. Valley Forge is absolutely terrible. George Washington crosses the frozen Potomac and it goes down in history as one of the fiercest winters. Such a brilliant strategy from an amazing man,” she admitted, feeling like she was saying too much and spilling her guts.

  “I don’t know if I should even be saying this because I don’t want to change history, well uh… your future. My future,” she finished up lamely as they stared at her.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Can I plead the fifth?”

  They stared at her confused. “Fifth what?”

  “Fifth amendment, which doesn’t exist yet obviously,” she said with a heavy sigh. “No person shall be held to answer for a crime unless it’s done through the due process of law.”

  “What are the other four amendments?” the stranger asked.

  “Who are you?”

  “The other amendments, if you please?”

  “The first amendment is the freedom of religion. The second is the right to bear arms. The third amendment says you cannot house soldiers in homes without permission. The fourth prohibits searches of your property and homes.”

  “Are there more?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know them all. I had to know enough to pass a test for class and I have forgotten a lot of them,” she said sheepishly. “I know that these came after the Constitution. Look, I was really bad at history class.”

  “When do we become our own country?” he asked.

  “1776… it will be six years from now.”

  “Who signed the constitution that you spoke of?”

  “A lot of guys,” she answered quickly. “Adams, Hamilton, Washington, Franklin…”

  He stopped her again, raising his hand simply. The man exuded calm and power. This was not a man to go against or defy. He made her nervous and the look of keen intelligence in his eyes was nerve-wracking. “Who wrote it?”

  “Thomas Jefferson,” she said quickly.

  “Have you met him?”

  “Who? Jefferson? No, I’ve not met any of those guys,” she said quickly. “Look. I know it’s st
range but I am not from around here. It’s a really long story but I intend no harm. I want to help you. Do you believe me?”

  “Does your husband sign it? This Constitution, that you speak of?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember his name on there,” she said sadly. Does this mean William dies before the war is over? The thought of that was crushing and made her feel absolutely awful. “I honestly don’t know, William,” she repeated, staring at him, seeing the pain in his eyes as he drew the same conclusion.

  “Let’s go, Adams. She is no threat to us unless she keeps repeating her stories,” the stranger said firmly. “Spencer, I suggest you take your lovely wife to hand and keep her close. You never know when we may need information from her. Such outlandish predications will have her labeled as mad or bewitched. Madam, if you do not keep your words to yourself, I assure you that you shall be labeled as such… by me. The idea of stretching a beautiful neck for witchcraft seems such a shame.” His words should have sounded ominous. Instead, it sounded like he was discussing how to light a candle. There was no threat, just a simple matter of fact statement. Creepy!

  “Of course, Benjamin. Thank you for your words.”

  “There are lots of mysteries in this world,” he said simply. “When you have a secret weapon tucked in a lovely package, you keep it close but easily accessible. I’m sure you get my meaning. Silence your wife now, William. I will not hear her words again, nor shall anyone else.”

  “I will do so,” William agreed and shut the door firmly behind them.

  “Benjamin? Benjamin Franklin? I thought he was old and fat?” she whispered and saw William’s face. He looked lost. “William,” Emeline started. “I wasn’t trying to do harm. I want to help.”

  “I know you do. But sometimes when you help, you help by aiding in the background and you let others take the forefront. The ones that thrive and grow when they are called upon. Those men? They need the excitement, danger and fame that being a rebel leader can bring. I simply want my freedoms and to live a happy life,” he said sadly. “Even if that life ends during the course of the next few years.”