Chapter 12
Okay, it was time to be professional, Erva reminded herself again, as she sat altogether too close to Will on a large horse. Being on the Clydesdale-like steed, she got to see Brooklyn very well. The sight of the small buildings—well, small compared to what would be in a couple centuries—and the unpaved roads were incredible as they rode along Front Street. However, even with taking in all she could see, the sensation of his morning whiskers against her face was hard to forget. God, she’d nearly shoved the man on his bed and stripped him down. She was glad Paul had interrupted, glad she’d gone back to her room, and had had a few moments to think about what she was doing.
She’d kissed him. Again, for crying out loud. She’d gone into his room simply to find out the day’s schedule, but seeing him in only his breeches had gotten to her. Well, to her body. She’d reacted before she could think. What was it about the man that kept making her attack him with kisses?
He shifted in the saddle again, as he’d done several times, reminding her of his hold on her waist, and his other arm wrapped around her to hold the reins. Sure, she’d fired off many a gun, especially eighteenth-century muskets, but ride a horse? Not really. Well, she had once, but that in no way made her an expert. Now, she sat sidesaddle because her dress, which was supposedly made for riding, wouldn’t let her sit any other way. Further, she’d had to have a silly little hat pinned to her giant hair. Erva thought that ‘70s country singers would have been proud and envious of how huge her tresses were today. The maids had really outdone themselves. But brushing it out would have to wait until the day was done. For now she clutched onto the saddle horn with all her might, and leaned into Will, hoping his sturdy frame might offer her more balance and support.
It did, of course. He was again dressed in his red uniform with white breeches and black leather boots, which were ruining Erva’s determination to remain aloof and professional. God, those boots were sexy. No, the breeches were sexier. Actually, it was the man who was the sexiest.
However, it was time to ask the millions of questions she always wanted to know. It was time to try to think more clearly. And there were many reasons why she had to. As much as Clio and Erato had urged her to let loose her desire regarding Will, the man had not one, but two mistresses. She couldn’t let herself forget that. Also, he would die in exactly three days.
She leaned more into Will with that thought, feeling his warmth and strength at her back. God, how it would hurt to get to know him better, begin to care even more about him, always knowing he would die.
But he had mistresses! She reminded herself—again!—of that fact. Her ex-husband was more than enough proof that men did cheat and could think that love and sex were synonymous with casual encounters. Besides, as her mother had kept repeating, her father had supposedly cheated too. She’d always had a hard time swallowing that, but her mother insisted, saying Erva had to grow up and see reality for what it was. Men hurt women, and that’s the way it went and would go until the end of time.
Erva hated how much she agreed with her mother’s philosophy. But reminding herself of it would help her gain more clarity when she was around Will, whom she wanted more than any man she’d ever encountered. And how messed up was that? To want a man so much who was a womanizer. She should go back to therapy when she returned to her time.
“Is your knee well whilst we ride?” Will’s deep voice hummed in her ear, turning into liquid gold that strummed her body hot instantly.
She nodded. Clio had packed some ibuprofen with her things, and she’d taken a couple pills after this morning’s tryst with Will. It had helped with the swelling in her knee, but not her heart. Pathetic, she told herself, it was simply pathetic what she felt for the man.
Time to keep things professional once and for all by dropping a bomb of a conversation.
“So, Will, how do you feel about America’s independence?”
He took a sharp inhale, tightening his grip on her waist. But, while exhaling his hand adjusted, pulling her slightly closer to him. “I think,” he whispered in her ear, “that you and I are alike in thought regarding America’s independence.”
“You know what I think, do you? I sincerely doubt that.”
“You relish the Declaration of Independence. You love the words written. You read a few of the lines over and over again while your eyes mist with sentiment.” His lips caressed her ear, then he said, his voice so low, “Am I wrong?”
At that Erva began to panic. She had a plan to keep her distance, but he was breaking through all her barricades. Not only with his sensual whisper, but just the damned words he said couldn’t be more right, perfect.
She had to stop this. “What you speak of is sedition.”
Once more she felt him breathe against her back. “Is it? When you admire the words, and hope to God that they are not merely pretty opinions, but a true philosophy of things to come? That not just America will create a land full of opportunity, but the whole globe will ignite in revolution? Well, I suppose it is sedition, isn’t it?”
Erva twisted her neck to stare at Will. “Do you understand what you’re saying?”
He smiled down at her. “I do.”
She knew her eyes widened in alarm, because she couldn’t believe he was revealing as much. “You’re a complete radical.”
He chuckled softly. “Radical, hmm. I think I might like that term. Shall I call you as much also?”
“I—me—” she huffed, watching him. He peered at the road before them, but every once in a while he’d smile down at her. She decided it was time to tell him as much as she could without blowing his mind. “Okay, where I come from, this kind of thought is normal, this radical thought. Aristocrats are a thing of the past, mostly. Although, we do have reality stars that seem to take their place.”
“Reality stars?”
“Oh, um, people with fame, from where I come from, are called stars.”
“And a reality star is one who is famous and real?”
“Actually, I’m not sure how real they are.” She snickered.
“You’re confusing me. But, what you’re saying is that somewhere in Prussia there is a land of equality, true egalitarianism?”
The fact was Germany had made as many efforts as America to have the kind of society that Will spoke of. But she had been talking about her country in her time. She couldn’t tell him that though.
“Well, where I come from tries to be a land where every human has rights, no matter the color of skin, gender, age, or religion.”
“Utopia, it sounds like. Why haven’t I heard more of this place?”
She was about to say that he would, in time he’d hear of it all. But he wouldn’t. He would die in three days.
His dark brows furrowed. “What is it? You look troubled.”
She shook her head as she looked forward. It was best to stay on course with her questions. “So you like the Declaration of Independence?”
He didn’t answer. Erva turned her head again, glancing up at his handsome face. He nodded.
“You like the philosophy of it?”
Again, he nodded.
“You agree with it even?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t vote for this war, but here you are.”
“Here I am.” He tugged her even closer to his warm, hard body, which, of course, made her forget her own name for a few seconds.
Finally, the clouds parted and she could think again, but only of his body. “What do you do to stay in shape?”
“Pardon?”
“I mean, you’re really...muscular. How did you get to be that way?” God, she sounded like an idiot. What she’d wanted to ask was how a guy like him, an eighteenth-century aristocrat, was so cut, so wide through the chest and shoulders, and had such a defined stomach that she remembered a little too well from this morning. The man was spectacular without a shirt, a slight dusting of chest hair and that little black strip under his bellybutton. Oh, how she wanted to
explore that treasure map.
But she couldn’t. Damn it, her body was in serious lust with the man, and she had to get control somehow.
“I’m muscular? Is that good or not?”
She looked forward with a shrug, hoping to God she appeared nonchalant.
He leaned closer to her ear again. “Do you like muscular men, Erva?”
She refused to answer.
Then, shocking her, Will sucked her earlobe before biting her neck.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was breathy.
“I’m forcing you to answer me.” He kissed and nibbled down her neck.
“Someone will see you.”
“No eyes are upon us now.” He suckled at a most tender area.
She moaned, but then bucked forward, rotating to glare over her shoulder at the naughty man. “Clever general, aren’t you? But you haven’t answered any of my questions. Why should I answer yours?”
He gave her a leering smile. “Clever lady, shall we have a game of it then? Quid pro quo: I’ll answer your questions, if you answer mine?”
Erva narrowed her eyes.
Will’s smile widened; however, the grin faded soon enough. “I do believe America should have her independence.” He pulled her close again.
She let him. As she studied the road ahead, she was in wonder of the man at her back. “Then, why are you here?”
“Ah-uh,” he chuckled close to her ear again, then kissed it. “Now, my turn. You’ve called me muscular. Do you like that?” He kissed his way down to that sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck.
“Yes,” she responded too quickly.
He softly laughed again. “Do you like this?” He bit her skin tenderly, and she arched her neck for him.
Then she remembered herself and the man who was kissing her. She yanked away again. The horse began to trot, forcing Erva to cling to Will and the saddle horn. Easily enough Will pulled the reins and calmed the charger back into his easy walk. There was no need to swivel her head back to Will, because she’d fastened one arm around his neck. Blinking, she couldn’t believe how close his freshly shaven face was.
“Why did you shave after I’d said...?” She wanted to just kick herself. She’d gone and blurted out so much already.
His fingers touched his cheek, as if making sure he’d shaved. He let his hand fall back to her waist.
“I didn’t like how my beard roughened your beautiful face. I worried I was hurting you.”
The way he’d called her beautiful set her stomach aflutter. “Even though I said to the contrary?”
He swallowed then nodded, looking only at the road. Suddenly, he seemed nervous, and Erva wondered about the change. This whole time he’d seemed so sure of himself, now he could hardly look her in the eyes.
“We’re approaching the camp,” he said roughly.
Her curiosity got the better of her. “Is that why you’re so distant now? You don’t want your men to get the wrong impression?” Her words came out more bitter than she’d intended, and the fear that he was a womanizer came back to haunt her, taunt her.
He looked deeply into her eyes. “Distant?” He sighed. “I suppose I am. But, Erva, I try to keep my eyes on the road before us, for if I don’t, I’m afraid I will no longer act like a gentleman. I’m afraid I won’t care who crowds around us, or how to perform my duties, and I’ll...” He didn’t finish his thought, but looked forward again. His jaw squared. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?”
She shook her head.
He grinned although he kept his gaze on the road. “I have to act like a general now. Stop being the temptress you are.”
She smacked his shoulder. “I’m not trying to tempt you, sir.”
Shocking her for a second—or was it a third?—time, Will stole a quick kiss from her too responsive lips.
“I jest. I know you’re not, Erva, which is even more desirous. You’re a dangerous creature, Lady Ferguson, for you’re only being yourself, and I find that utterly alluring. You make me feel—”
“General Hill!” a loud Scottish voice boomed. “And the Lady Ferguson, how pleasant to see both of you this morn.”
Erva retracted her arm back to her side and tried to right herself in the saddle to appear as if she hadn’t been making out with Will. She smiled as Will and Sergeant McDougal exchanged niceties, but she ached to know how she made Will feel.
So much for professionalism.