Which meant, at least until we received other instructions, we were staying right here.
I wrung the excess water from my hair and wrapped a towel around me as I stepped out of the tub. It took so long to carry and heat enough water to fill a tub that I only got a real bath every couple days. The rest of the time, it was a general wash up from a basin which, in the middle of August, didn't really get one feeling very fresh.
Gracen's lips brushed my shoulder as he came to stand behind me. “Could you please tell me how you manage to be like this every day?”
I looked up at him, eyebrow raised. “What's that supposed to mean?” My tone was teasing so he wouldn't take the question the wrong way.
He smiled, his eyes dancing. “Tell me how you manage to look so beautiful all the time.”
I rolled my eyes. “Gracen, seriously, if you wanted sex, you don't have to bother with sweet talk.”
He laughed, but it was the low sort of chuckle that made me press my thighs together. He ran his hand over my shoulder, up my neck, and cupped the side of my face. His thumb brushed against the corner of my mouth, and he bent his head to touch his lips to mine in a chaste but sweet kiss.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine. “I need you to know that I love you, Honor Lightwood, and that I want you by my side today, tomorrow, and twenty, fifty years from now.”
I may have told him that I didn't need sweet talk, but that didn't mean his words didn't make me choke up. “I love you too, Gracen, and I don't intend to go anywhere. I wouldn’t be shocked if you actually get a bit bored of me one day.”
“I would never.” His eyes shone in the warm sunlight filtering through the windows, and I couldn’t help but kiss him one more time before we each had to tend to the events of the day.
Even though I'd been expecting it for a few weeks now, the headline still came as a bit of a shock.
King George Issues Proclamation of Rebellion.
It happened a month ago, like I originally thought, but I hadn't taken into account how long it took information to get from one country to the other. Now, it was nearing the end of September, and we were finally receiving the official word of the proclamation.
“Gracen, look at this,” I said as I carried the paper into our bedroom.
He turned away from the wash basin, drying his jaw with a towel as his eyes scanned the front page.
“My god, it’s starting,” he murmured.
“What do you think your father will say about this?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Gracen ran his hand through his hair. “I'm unsure, but I doubt it will be anything good.”
I crossed over to him, tossing the paper onto the bed. His expression was troubled, and all thoughts of war and everything else went right out the window. All I cared about was getting that look off his face.
“Hey, remember what we said?” I took his hands in mine. “We're in this together.”
He nodded and kissed my forehead, his fingers tightening around mine. “I know.” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. “Washington will send word now. He'll want inside information.”
I nodded as my pulse skipped a beat. It was really happening. I'd been considering leaving the army in my own time, becoming a civilian and staying away from war, and now I was in a whole different century...and becoming a part of another war. At least, this time, I knew when and how it would end.
It still didn't make it any easier as Gracen and I went through the motions around the estate. We continued to avoid Roston – or he avoided us – but I still felt like I was on edge. I'd never thought of myself as impatient, but this waiting was driving me crazy. At least in the army, I had specific routines to follow to keep me focused.
Here, however, I did have one thing I didn't have in the army.
Sex.
With my smoking hot husband.
Orgasms were a great distraction, I decided as Gracen and I lay next to each other in the slowly lightening room. We'd both woken before dawn, though perhaps woken wasn't the right word since neither of us had actually slept last night. Dozed on and off, but not slept.
I wasn't entirely sure which of us had technically started things, only that absent caresses had turned into something else while the sky was still dark. The whisper of sheets on skin, the early autumn sounds had surrounded us, and neither of us had felt the need to break it.
He'd moved over me, slid inside me with ease, his way slicked by the preparation his fingers and tongue had done. We'd taken our time, making love slowly until we came together, and now we were simply basking in the afterglow, lying comfortably together as we waited for the rest of the household to stir.
“May I ask you something about your life...before?” Gracen's fingers were tracing a pattern on my skin, and they hesitated as he spoke, piquing my curiosity.
“Go for it.”
“When did your husband pass?”
I lifted my head to look at him, the room light enough now for me to see his face. “My husband?”
“When we...” A flush crept up his neck. “You said you had been...intimate before. I believe you called him Bruce.”
I nodded, still trying to understand why he thought I’d been married and widowed. Then it hit me – he assumed that since I’d experienced intimacy with a man, we must have been married. And that since I hadn't referred to myself as still being married when I came here, I must've been widowed. Other people during this time period might not have thought of a servant sleeping with the master of a house as being too unconventional, but a respectable woman surely wouldn't have, and he assumed I was respectable.
“Things are different in the time I come from,” I said carefully. “People are less strict about saving intimacy for marriage.”
Gracen’s face went blank, making it impossible to read what he was thinking. “You were never married?”
“I was engaged to be married.” I didn't think it was a good idea to tell him that Bruce and I had slept together before we'd gotten engaged. As it was, I was wondering if it would've been better to have lied.
“But you never exchanged vows.”
I pushed myself up, not bothering to cover my breasts as the sheet fell. “No. We didn't.”
He sat up, turning away from me as he muttered something that didn't sound very nice.
I stood, needing the distance as my stomach churned. “You’re angry?”
“Of course I’m angry,” he snapped.
“Are you kidding me?” I struggled to keep my voice down. “You and I had sex before we got married. In fact, we hadn't even known each other that long. Bruce and I had been together since we were kids.”
“That’s not the point,” Gracen said as he pulled on his nightshirt and a pair of pants.
“Oh, it isn’t? You're a fucking hypocrite. I was out of my time, out of my world. You knew what the expectations of this time were and you did it anyway. I had no expectations of you, no expectations for us, but that was my choice. You don't get to shame me when you made the same choice even though you knew what it meant here.”
“It's not the same thing.” Gracen was pacing now, but he wouldn't look at me.
“Why? Because I’m a woman? So it's okay for me to put my life on the line in my time and this one, but I'm a slut because I slept with a man I intended to marry in a time when most women my age have had several sexual partners.”
“It’s a matter of principle, Honor.”
“A matter of principle? Bullshit! You were engaged to Clara when we slept together. How the hell is that more principled than what I did before I even met you?”
He moved toward the door. “It seems there is still much about your past that I don’t know.”
It’s the future actually, I thought, but let’s not be particular about the details, shall we?
A few moments of terrible silence hung in the air before he continued, “The situation at hand is an important one, and it deserves our undivided attentio
n. I don't believe I can properly focus while wondering what you’re hiding from me. Full trust is imperative if we are to serve Washington together, and I obviously haven’t warranted that.”
With those words, he turned and left the room.
I stood, staring at the door as it closed behind him. What the hell just happened?
Chapter 12
When Gracen walked out, saying that we had mistrust between us, I assumed he'd spend some time going around the estate, getting his head together before coming back in. Maybe he'd be gone most of the day, returning only for dinner and then a returned to our discussion with a cooler head. I hadn't, for one moment, imagined that when I arrived in the kitchen after two hours of tossing and turning, Dye would be waiting for me.
“Master Gracen had himself leavin' in a hurry,” she said, her tone casual, though the look in her eyes was anything but.
I froze, my stomach sinking even as I told myself not to jump to any conclusions. “Leaving?”
Dye nodded as she finished emptying the bucket of water. “He come down here, looking all bothered about somethin' and grabbed dat salted beef Cook been saving, then headed to the barn.” She leaned closer, dropping her voice. “I seen him ride outta there like the devil hisself was after him.”
I leaned heavily against the table, the strength running out of my legs. Gracen had left on a horse, which meant he'd felt the need to get farther and faster away than he could get on foot.
Then the rest of what she said clicked, and the blood drained from my face.
“Dye.” My voice was little more than a whisper. “How much food did he take?”
The slight pause before her answer told me that she'd figured out why I asked. “Nuff for at least two days travel.”
“Fuck, Gracen,” I breathed the words as I closed my eyes.
I let myself have a few moments to hurt, to be angry at Gracen for running, then I took a deep breath and set about figuring out what I should do now.
The answer was as problematic as it was clear.
I had to go after him, force him to have it out with me so I could know if I'd made a mistake choosing him. I hated the thought of it, but it was better to find out now than later...like when I got pregnant.
And I was pretty sure it'd be a when not an if.
But I didn't want to think about that now. I had to get to him.
Once I made myself think logically, I knew where he'd gone, and where I had to go. I didn't let myself think about how dangerous this was, or what could happen with a single misstep. The memory of that Bradbury short story about the guy who stepped on a butterfly in the past and destroyed his world kept circling in my head as I threw together some clothes, some provisions, and took Gracen's remaining horse.
As I rode out, I prayed that Washington hadn't changed his camp's location...and that I wasn't too late.
I was tired, dirty, and starting to question just how much I was willing to take before I decided that I'd made a mistake. I'd wanted to ride all night, but no matter how tough I was, I wasn't used to being on a horse for such an extended period of time, and I needed to rest. Still, I pushed myself as far and fast as I could, and now I was finally at the perimeter of the camp.
I climbed off the horse, mentally cursing my dress for the millionth time. I needed to be recognizable when I arrived, so I hadn't changed into pants, no matter how much the outfit was pissing me off.
“Can I help you, Miss?” The sentry's voice was polite but firm.
“I need to see Gracen Lightwood.”
No recognition registered on the man’s face. In fact, his expression didn't change at all.
“Gracen Lightwood,” I repeated impatiently. “Is he here? He would have arrived yesterday sometime, looking for General Washington. We were here together before.”
“Miss, I think you need to get back on that horse and go back to wherever it is you came from.”
I stood my ground. “Tell me where my husband is.”
The sentry sighed. “I don’t know of a Gracen Lightwood...but, General Washington is in the tent speaking with some of his advisors. Maybe he can help you.”
For the first time since I'd arrived here, I was grateful for the way most men viewed women. If we'd been with my unit in my time, no one would've gotten through to a commanding officer so easily, not even a woman.
“Take me to him.” I hadn't been a commanding officer, but I knew how to speak with authority, so I did.
The man nodded, and I followed him through the camp, keeping my chin up and my eyes straight ahead. I could feel soldiers looking at me, but none of them were Gracen, so I didn't care. I was grateful for my guide, as the way was vaguely familiar, but not so much so that I would've been able to locate Washington's tent on my own.
“Sir, there's a Mrs. Lightwood here, seeking her husband. She said she met with you recently.”
A muffled reply came from inside, and then the soldier was motioning for me to follow.
“Give us a moment, gentlemen,” Washington said to the others as he came around the desk to shake my hand.
The other men murmured their farewells to Washington, as well as acknowledgments to me, as they exited. Washington gestured toward a chair, and I took it, watching as he sat next to me. Now that I was here, I realized I hadn't thought this far ahead. I hadn't considered what I'd do if Gracen wasn't here and I had to talk to Washington alone.
“Mrs. Lightwood, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
I decided that straightforward was the best approach under the circumstances. I needed to find my husband, and niceties wouldn't help in that regard. “General Washington, is Gracen here?”
Washington didn’t seem at all offended by my crazed demand and lack of respect. If anything, I got the impression that he rather liked my blunt manner.
“He was here,” Washington said, gesturing toward a cup a soldier had brought in without me noticing.
I didn’t reach for the drink, no matter how thirsty I was. I had more pressing matters on my mind. “Where is he?”
Washington took the cup and set it on his desk. “Gracen asked to be given an immediate assignment now that the king has issued the proclamation you predicted. As I am not in a position to turn away an able-bodied man, I commissioned him to help rally support in France. The Marquis de Lafayette has been a great help, and I hope that your husband will be able to recruit more than him.”
France. My heart gave an unsteady thump. Washington had sent my husband to France.
I gripped my hands together tight enough to make my knuckles turn white. “I need to see him.”
Washington placed a hand on my shoulder. I realized only then that it was because I’d swayed slightly. I'd eaten less than I'd slept, and I was running on fumes. I couldn't stop though. Not until I saw Gracen.
“He’s not here,” Washington said gently. “He’s waiting to board a ship.”
Waiting. The word sparked in my brain. “When does he leave?”
“The ship departs in two days.” He paused, then added, “I can make arrangements for you to see him before they set sail. After you eat and rest.”
I started to protest, but Washington's expression was firm.
“You will fall off your horse if you go like this. It's a journey of a few hours. Eat. Sleep. And then I will have a letter for you at first light, so none of my men will stop you.”
I found myself so physically and emotionally tired that I didn’t have the energy to refuse. I barely remember following Washington out of his tent and being led to an empty one. He said he'd have someone bring me a meal, but the moment he left, I collapsed into a deep sleep.
I woke with a now familiar feeling of disorientation, but still feeling far more capable than when I’d drifted off. There was a plate of food sitting by the bed, containing the usual army staple of the time: hardtack and dried meat. Hardly appetizing, but my growling stomach didn't care. I recalled that Washington had promised a letter for safe passage to Gracen, and t
hat was all that mattered.
The camp was full of organized chaos, and I couldn't help but notice the similarities to the army in my own time. The uniforms were different, and the lack of technology was obvious, but these were still the same sort of men I'd spent the last six years around.
The soldier who'd been guarding my tent – whether out of chivalry or suspicion, I didn't know – escorted me back to Washington, staying outside while I entered the tent. The cool morning air, along with food and rest, had cleared my head and given me a better grip on my emotions, so I was able to face the general with a smile, and a refreshed determination.
He greeted me with a smile. “Were you able to sleep?”
“Yes, Sir. I thank you for the accommodations as well as the food.”
“I am only sorry we had such poor fare to offer.”
He gestured toward the same seat I'd taken last night. Despite my eagerness to get to Gracen, I knew I needed to hear whatever Washington had to say. Mine and Gracen’s presence was messing with the timeline enough as it was. I couldn't risk the future of an entire country for selfish purposes. Not any more than I already was.
“Your prediction of the king’s declaration was correct.” The general's voice was even, his expression inscrutable. “Some of my men would regard such intuition as suspicious, but I believe I have a soldier's instincts, and those instincts tell me that you are trustworthy.”
I chose my own words carefully, understanding the importance of not trying too hard. “Does this mean you want my assistance?”
Washington nodded. “A man doesn’t always need to understand something in order to utilize it,” he said, chuckling wryly.
I smiled. “I thank you for your trust, and I'll do my best to prove myself worthy of it.” I paused and then asked, “This trip to France. Will it be...dangerous, do you think?”
Washington's hesitation told me he was considering how honest to be. “I cannot say how perilous it’ll be, but no one is truly safe from danger while we are at war. Anyone who’s committed to the cause must be prepared to accept that.”