Chapter 13
Watching Lady Ferguson handle a rifled musket was mayhap just as good as making love to her. All right, Will admitted to himself, he would prefer to make love, but for the moment taking in her enthusiasm about the helix-grooving inside the gun with as much fascination as most women would have for dress shops, was quite possibly the most erotic vision he’d ever seen.
The sun lit the campground, making the buildings and tents seem brighter, cleaner, better. Even Will’s men seemed more jovial. Will couldn’t help but accredit this to Erva. The Queen’s Rangers surrounded her, delighting in her fancy at the rifle.
“Shoot for me,” she ordered Captain Reynolds, handing him back his gun.
Lord, she should have been an officer. The men would do anything for her.
The captain nodded. “Of course, my lady, but,” he glanced at Will, “I am not the shot that General Hill is. He is better than all of us.”
Will wondered about the young captain’s compliment. He’d thought that Reynolds had had contempt for him, for he’d often complained about being handicapped under Will’s command. And it was true. Will chose multiple times not to use the Rangers, fearing an outright slaughter if he did employ the skilled soldiers against the Continentals.
Erva pivoted back towards Will. “You have a sniper’s eye?”
He didn’t respond, but after a moment couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful lady and her arched brow.
“That he does, ma’am,” Reynolds said. “He’s the best shot I’ve ever seen.”
Will bowed his head at the captain who reciprocated with his own. It was the most affectionate the prickly captain had ever been, and it was best to receive the compliment with a reverenced gesture.
“Then you’ll shoot for me.” Erva grinned up at him.
The crowd of young soldiers surrounding them cheered.
Will sighed. “But we must train.” And Lord, did they have to. He and his men were to take Manhattan from General George Washington and the Continental Army in two days’ time.
How on earth was he to be a general when the lady was present? How was he going to continue?
Erva had changed his whole world, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed. Or if he could. Perhaps it was silly of him, but he was toying with the idea of resigning and spending his days in the company of the lady. Aye, it was a bit much to hope for, but it felt damned good to hope once again.
Captain Reynolds extended his arm to Will. Being a rifleman himself, Will knew it was beyond respect when one man handed over his gun to the other.
“You honor me, Captain.” Will took the musket and the crowd parted in the direction of the rounded dirt hill, where the men practiced shooting and Erva had destroyed a scarecrow just yesterday. “I suppose I’ll have to back up?”
“Yes, General. I’d say walk back two hundred yards, sir,” the captain responded.
From his periphery Will caught Erva lift one light-colored brow. He wished he could kiss it. If he were married to her, he could.
The thought both exhilarated and stung. He’d believed Julia would forever haunt his heart. He’d assumed no one would turn his eye ever again, as well as he’d supposed no one should. Admitting to himself that he felt guilty beyond reproach about his wife’s death was not difficult. For he knew that had he been more understanding, more compassionate, she would be alive. Or would she? It was what Julia’s mother had screamed at him, yelling every insult, thrusting too many daggers into his self-incriminating soul for him to survive.
Yet he did. He kept waking every day with the stark realization that Julia was truly gone.
This morn was the first where he didn’t think of his grief, his mistakes.
His first thought had been of Erva.
While walking on the dirt path with rifle in hand, Will considered how she had infected him with hope—there was that word again. But none other was more fitting. Erva had cast such a spell he began to believe again, believe in...love? Oh, there had been many a man who could fall in love in a day, but he’d never thought himself one. However, he had with Julia. Although their marriage had been pre-arranged, Will knew he could stop the understanding if he’d wanted. However, before he wed, he’d decided to introduce himself. Only without her mother, whom it was rumored was constantly around her. He wanted to know the dark-haired beauty on her own, since he knew he was most himself when alone. It took months to figure out how to track her, especially without her mother who acted more like a bodyguard than anything else, but finally he’d found her. Sitting in a garden during sunset outside a banquet where night jasmine exotically clung to the air, there she had been.
She’d spoken so excitedly about the flowers, not even caring to look up and see with whom it was she chatted. Will had seen many a pretty girl, but Julia was lovely beyond compare with her almost black hair, dark eyes and light skin that glowed in the scarlet light. She talked of myths, of fairies who lived in the blossoms. Then she smiled up at him, and he knew he would love her, cherish her, and protect her until the day he died.
Finally at a good distance from his target Will pivoted, surprised the crowd of Rangers and Erva, whom the captain had taken by arm, had followed. He’d been in his own world with Julia for a moment, and, God, how it made him want to choke, but he could have sworn he saw her, pointing at Erva and tenderly waving. Yet, as always, when he tried to focus on the apparition, he realized it was just a shadow.
However, he couldn’t neglect that Erva smelled of night jasmine.
Or was he was merely seeking signs, like some superstitious fool, that his affections toward Erva were respectable, permissible, obtainable?
After loading the weapon he went down on one knee. He thought about his decision to come here and fight. Nay, that wasn’t the truth of the reason why he’d come here, for he’d had a more purposeful goal. As soon as this ambition had entered his mind, he could have sworn he saw and heard his wife everywhere, warning him to stop his plans. She had been in windowpanes, at street corners, in his garden, and in his dreams. The visions of her in his reveries had been so painful he couldn’t bear it. She’d screamed at him to desist; she’d hollered how life was too beautiful to pass by.
He glanced at Erva. Captain Reynolds might have had her arm and hand, but she looked only at Will. She smiled down at him. The grin was wide, carefree, and utterly gorgeous.
He took aim at a scarecrow. Inhaling, he knew now how right his wife had been—this life could be so beautiful. While holding his breath, he pulled the trigger. As he stood, he knew he had hit the target.