A Dangerous Journey
The two days stretched into three as Sarah and Forest prepared for the journey north to Valley Forge. On the third day, Sarah stood at the dock and waved as Gideon and Joshua sailed downriver toward the Chesapeake, accompanied by the dogs and a large, squawking goose.
"The boy will be safer with my mother in Chestertown than here," Forest assured her. "Gideon will watch over him until we can fetch him home."
"So you tell me, but it's hard to give him over to strangers."
"Gideon and my mother are not strangers."
Sarah stared at him suspiciously. "No? 'Twas not long ago you told me that your sister, Rebecca, was your only living relative. Now you produce a mother. How can I believe anything you say?"
He grinned. "I do have a sister Rebecca, and she has children."
"And is this Rebecca a Quaker?"
Forest shrugged. "Not unless she's recently been converted."
"You pile one lie on top of another," Sarah accused.
"I had to tell you something. Should I have told you I was fighting Howe's men? This is different. I'd not lie to you where Josh is concerned."
Sarah blinked back tears as she watched her son grow smaller and smaller in the distance. She knew that Forest was right, but it had been hard to explain to the boy why he must go away without telling him the truth.
"Are you certain your mother will welcome a strange child in her house? Joshua can be a handful, and you know how he eats."
Forest put his arm around Sarah's shoulder and walked back toward the inn with her. "My mother raised two boys of her own, as well as a daughter. My son, Nicholas, was her darling. Trust me, Sarah, Joshua will be fine, and probably spoiled beyond belief when we go to collect him."
"And if something happens to us?"
"Then Joshua would be better off with Gideon and my mother than with Isaac."
Carefully, they crossed the frozen ground to the barn. The newly butchered hog hung from the meat rack, and beside him were seven plucked hens and a rooster. With no one at King's Landing to care for the livestock, Sarah had decided to take the mule and the injured horse to Martha, and to slaughter the poultry. "It's just as well Isaac's men killed my cow," she said wryly, "or I'd have her to worry about too."
The temperature had dropped below freezing and remained there, perfect for keeping the meat fresh. No more snow had fallen, but what remained on the ground froze to a hard crust, and the sky was overcast.
"It won't be an easy trip," Sarah remarked, looking up at the threatening clouds overhead. "The roads between here and Pennsylvania are terrible."
"Aye, and an army of British between us and Valley Forge won't help. Are you certain you want to go through with this, Sarah? I won't blame you if you have second thoughts." He picked up a hammer off the barn floor and returned to the task that had kept him busy most of the morning.
Putting a false bottom in the wagon had been Sarah's idea. "We'll fill the space with cornmeal and blankets," she had said. Bags of salt and dried fish had been stuffed into the corners, along with some of her precious tea and the rest of Obediah's clothing and shoes.
"He'll have nothing left to wear when he comes home," Forest had remarked with a grin. But he had taken all Sarah's offerings and fitted them carefully between the boards.
"Obediah won't notice the clothes are gone," Sarah had assured him as she produced another woolen scarf and two more pairs of worn stockings. "He always had too many clothes. I don't think he'll need these boots, or . . ." She had added another armful of garments to the pile beside the left rear wheel. "Or this stuff."
Sarah was pleased with the false bottom Forest was building, but she knew her best idea had been the oversized wooden coffin stored on the overhead beams in the woodshed. "Well take the pig," she'd pronounced. "We'll take the pig in the coffin, and I'll say it's my dead husband we're taking home to Pennsylvania to bury on the family farm."
"Sarah, not even the British are stupid enough to believe you'd transport a corpse through occupied territory in the dead of winter."
"Won't they?"
In the end, Forest had agreed about the coffin as he had agreed to all of her suggestions. "You've a devious mind, woman," he had said. "I'm glad you're not working for the Crown. You're a better spy than I am."
"And what would you have done? Driven your wagon to the nearest guard post and asked permission to deliver your supplies to Washington's army?" Sarah had wrinkled her nose in scorn. "I've not worked it all out yet, but I will."
Both had planned their disguises carefully. Forest would assume his old role, complete with eye patch, beard, and ragged clothing. He had decided to wrap his bad knee in leather strips to keep the leg stiff and to put a lift inside one moccasin to be certain he limped when he walked. If he was questioned, he would claim to be a Queen's Ranger from the Eastern Shore, injured in His Majesty's service in the early part of the war.
Sarah would play the part of his sister, the grieving widow. To safeguard her from assault by the soldiers, she would stuff her clothing and pretend to be far gone with child. "When I am done altering my gown," she had predicted, "none will dare to come too close, let alone lay hands on me, for fear of sending me into labor then and there."
Together they finished positioning the boards in the false floor, then dirtied the wood with soil. Forest's injured side was a hindrance, but by going slowly and with Sarah's help he was able to complete the task. Next they lowered the coffin onto the new wagon floor, and using the obedient dapple-gray, they maneuvered the wagon under the meat rack and slid the pig into the coffin.
"He looks peaceful, doesn't he?" Sarah asked solemnly as she stared down at the boar. The animal had been gutted and the hair scraped, but was still complete with head, feet, and tail. The pig's mouth gaped open, and there were empty sockets where his eyes had been.
A keg of brandy and a keg of cider had gone into the hog's belly, along with the apples and as many winter squash as would fit. Around the body they packed the frozen poultry, sealed canvas sacks of fresh-baked bread, and dried peas and beans. A special package contained gingerbread, Gideon's offering for some boy far from home and family.
Sarah laid a strip of canvas over the top and tucked in the corners, put another packet on the canvas and pulled the coffin top into place. "I doubt not but what Master Hog will ride softer than we will in this wagon."
Grinning at Sarah's remark, but unable to reply because his mouth was full of nails, Forest began to hammer home the lid of the coffin.
Sarah waited until he was done and then led the dapple-gray gelding back to the barn. "It's best we leave at dawn tomorrow. Your side's healing every day. If you'd gone when you first wanted to—"
"I wouldn't have gotten far," he admitted. "I know, wench. I know. But ye could have the mercy not to rub it in."
"My father taught me to call a fool a fool."
"Enough!" he complained. "Would ye leave a man no pride at all?"
"You were ill, and you were upset. It's hard to think straight at such times," she said soothingly. "At least this way we'll have a chance at getting your supplies through. But don't think this makes me a rebel. My going with you changes nothing between us, Forest. I'm only doing it—"
"To get your team back."
Her gray eyes sparkled with unconcealed amusement. "And to be certain you're not hung. You promised to fix my bed, and you've not done it properly."
It was after dark when Forest came into the house for supper. Sarah had set the table in the cabin for the two of them and cooked the fresh pork liver, cabbage and potatoes, beaten biscuits, and apple pie.
"I couldn't eat all this if I was three men." Forest groaned as he sat down at the table. "But I will do my best."
"I've made pork pasties and apple tarts to carry with us. I tried to pack what we can eat cold without cooking." Sarah offered grace and passed him a heaping bowl of cabbage. "Do you know how many days it will take us to reach Valley Forge?"
"No. It depends on the roads and the weather."
"If it wasn't for the rebellion, I'd like to go on to Philadelphia. I've heard it's a fair city, clean, with wide streets. Martha said in the summer there are women on every corner selling flowers."
"This winter I'll wager there are women selling more than that. The British occupation is a hard one."
Sarah got up to bring the pot of tea from the hearth. "I've honey to sweeten it, if you like," she offered.
Forest nodded and held out his mug. "A good Patriot would not savor this drink so, but it's a weakness with me."
"There's no need not to enjoy it," Sarah confided with a twinkle in her eye. "British tea it is, but it came to us by way of Ireland and France. Little tax was paid on this lot, I'll wager."
"What?" he teased between bites. "A Loyalist who cheats her king and crown?"
Sarah settled into her chair and reached for a biscuit. "I am a woman of business first, descended from a long line of thrifty innkeepers. We have never meddled in politics, but we have never seen a need to pay more than necessary for honest goods."
He chuckled. "Well, thrifty woman of business, tell me how it is that you could produce a coffin for tomorrow's venture. It's not an item every housewife keeps in her pantry."
Sarah bent her head, casting her gaze upon her plate. " 'Twas not in my pantry," she reminded him. " 'Twas in the woodshed."
"And?" he urged. "There is more to this tale, I know."
"The coffin is Obediah's." Her voice was carefully contained.
"Your husband's? Why in God's name would he need a coffin?"
Sarah shook with suppressed laughter. Obediah had more need of a coffin than Forest guessed, but she could not admit it. She peeked up at Forest through her thick lashes. "It was for payment of a debt," she offered, trying not to giggle. "A cabinetmaker in Oxford bought a horse from Obediah and was slow in paying. Obediah went to the sheriff and demanded his due. The cabinetmaker said the horse had botts and he would not pay. In the end, they settled out of court. The cabinetmaker had fashioned a coffin for a very large merchant who had the bad grace to die in Annapolis."
"So your husband took the coffin," Forest finished.
She nodded. "It was worth more than the horse. Obediah bragged of the bargain for months. We had the coffin on display in the public room all spring."
Forest stared at her in disbelief. "What will Obediah say when he finds out you've stolen it? I've no intention of hauling the damned thing back from Pennsylvania, you know."
Sarah sighed. "I'll have to answer for the coffin when next we meet," she answered meekly. "No doubt Obediah will be some put out."
Forest's hands flexed in frustration. "I'd wish him in it, rather than the pig," he said. "I'd gladly offer prayers for his entrance into heaven."
"So have I prayed, often." She looked up at him again and giggled. "Obediah is far away," she said, "and we are here." She reached across the table to take Forest's hand.
How handsome he looks in the candlelight, she thought with a sudden rush of emotion. Forest had removed the buckskin tunic and wore the cambric shirt she had fashioned him for Christmas. It fitted perfectly across his wide shoulders and down over his arms, ending in lace at his wrists.
"You can't expect me to just leave you here with him," Forest insisted. "Not after what we've been to each other—I won't do it."
She let go of his hand and raised a finger to her lips. "Shhh. I don't want to talk about it. Tomorrow we leave on a dangerous journey, and I'm not sure either of us will return. Can we forget Obediah and the rebellion tonight? Can we laugh and talk together like a long-wed couple?"
"That's all I want of you, woman," he admitted huskily. "To have you as my wife."
Sarah blinked back a film of moisture in her eyes. "I wish things were different for us, but they aren't," she said. But they could be, she cried inwardly. They could be if it wasn't for this damned war and our tangled web of lies. "Let's not fight, please," she murmured, looking up at him. "I would have this night to be a sweet memory." She offered him the platter of meat. "You must eat and regain your strength. The Lord alone knows when you will have a hot meal again. Even you cannot heal if you don't take proper care of yourself."
He exhaled sharply. "You speak like a sensible woman, Sarah. Why couldn't you have the good grace to look like one, instead of—"
She flushed with pleasure. "You have the tongue of a peddler. My face is none of my doing. It is what I was born with." She squeezed his hand again. "But I will not have you change the subject before I am through." She smiled with her eyes. "You will do your cause no good if your wound becomes infected and you end up an invalid. I am the physician here, and you must listen to my wisdom."
"So Adam was tempted by Eve," Forest quipped. "I'll try, Sarah. But looking at you takes a man's thoughts away from food."
They finished the meal in comfortable silence. Forest helped her to clear away the dishes and the remainder of the food.
"It seems strange to have no dogs here to eat the scraps," Sarah admitted. "I hope I did the right thing by sending Joshua away to Chestertown."
"If there is a house safe in Maryland tonight for a child, I swear it is my mother's. Once, when my brother, Chad, was—" Forest broke off and turned away.
Sarah came up behind him and placed her hands on his taut shoulders. "He's dead, isn't he?"
"Yes." Forest's voice was strained. "He fell beside me at the Battle of Princeton."
Sarah leaned her head against him. "I lost both mother and father when I was young. I mourned them deeply for many years." She moved her hand to the nape of his neck and massaged it comfortingly. "Then one day I realized how fortunate I was to have had parents to love . . . and who loved me. Some never had a brother they could love."
"Aye." He turned and took her in his arms. "I am fortunate. I might never have found you."
"Or I you, Forest Irons." Sarah pulled his head down and kissed him.
"Sarah, I . . ."
"Stay with me tonight," she begged, her voice barely audible. "I want you with me."
He answered with another kiss as his arms pulled her tightly against him. "Sarah, Sarah," he murmured. "I love you."
"And I you," she whispered between kisses. "Come." Taking his hand, she led him into the bedchamber. Her limbs felt weak as water, her head was spinning, and her breath came in ragged gasps. Her eyes met his, and her pulse quickened as she felt the heat of his smoldering gaze. Her cheeks grew warm. "I am too bold," she murmured softly.
"No, you could never be that," he protested. "Not with me." He reached out to loosen her bodice strings, and she shivered. "You're cold," he whispered. "I'll warm you, little Sarah."
The firelight played off his chestnut-colored hair and beard. Strange, she thought, once I would not have thought him beautiful . . . but he is. So beautiful. . . .
Forest's hand cupped her breast, and she gave a sigh of pleasure. She stood breathless as he kissed her neck and then slid the top of her gown aside to plant warm, sweet kisses along her bare shoulder.
He gave a few more tugs, and her gown and apron fell, to pool around her ankles. His strong fingers caressed her hip and belly through the thin linen of her shift. "I have never known a woman who did not wear a corset," he murmured huskily into her ear. "I like it."
A bubble of laughter rose in Sarah's throat. "Obediah said only a slattern dared go uncorseted, but I could not pole the ferry so bound." His mouth covered hers again and their tongues touched, sending shocks of excitement through her.
An applewood log snapped on the hearth, and Sarah inhaled the sweet scent, knowing she would never smell applewood again without remembering this night . . . this man. She leaned toward Forest provocatively, savoring the heady sensations of his touch . . . thrilling at the love words he whispered into her ear.
Waves of longing spilled through her . . . longing to give herself body and soul to him. The buds of her breasts thrust against the linen of her shift, each nipple hard and erect. Hot, tingling desire, stronger than she had ever known possible, flicked at her flesh with tongues of fire.
Trembling, she pulled down one shoulder of her shift, then the other, sliding off her garment and standing before him completely nude.
Forest's eyes traveled over her firelit skin, and he groaned deep in his throat. "My beautiful Sarah," he whispered.
"I want to make you happy," she cried. "Tell me what to do. Tell me how to please you."
"You please me no matter what you do," he answered hoarsely. He caught her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to meet his burning kiss.
She could not get close enough. Drawing in great gasps of air, she molded her body to his, feeling the length of his hard desire, opening her mouth to accept his hot, thrusting tongue. The taste of him was clean and sweet, like honeyed velvet.
"Undress me," he commanded.
Sarah arched her back and teased his lower lip with the tip of her tongue.
Forest moaned and closed his eyes. "Witch," he uttered.
She laughed softly and took his bottom lip between her teeth, nipping gently. Her lips traced a path across his whiskers, down his neck and then back up to his ear. "You want me to take off your clothes?" She blew softly into his ear, then licked it with feather-light caresses. "All of your clothes?"
"Yes, yes," he breathed.
"Kneel down."
He did as she asked, and she gently drew the shirt over his head. She dropped to her knees on the floor beside him, and her fingers found the bandage on his side. The linen was clean, with no sign of renewed bleeding.
"I would not have you injure your wound because of me," she whispered. She let her fingers move to his chest, stroking, massaging, teasing the buds of his breasts until they strained against her touch. He moaned again, and she chuckled, kissing each nipple in turn and laving the swellings with her moist tongue.
Forest loosed the pins from her hair, letting the dark silk fall around her bare shoulders. "Ah, Sarah," he murmured. "You'll kill me with kindness."
Her moist kisses trailed lower, across his flat stomach. His skin was hot beneath her lips; she could feel his body trembling as her own. "Stand up," she urged him softly.
"Sweet torture." Forest rose unsteadily to his feet. "Have your will with me, woman."
She kissed the top button of his breeches and slowly worked it open. "You want me to do that?" she teased.
"Yes." He shuddered. "Yes."
She released the second button and slipped her fingers inside the flap of his breeches. "Again?" she asked. "Shall I go farther?"
"Again."
Sarah kissed the third button, running her hands over his narrow hips and down the length of his hard, muscular legs. "Shall I undo this one too?" She slid her hands up the insides of his thighs, taking care not to touch his throbbing shaft.
"Yes." He drew in a long breath. "And be quick about it, wench, or I'll rip these damned breeches open and have ye on the floor."
Sarah laughed, releasing the third and fourth buttons. The pulsing urgency of her own desire was difficult to contain. Her face was only inches from his tumescent manhood, and the bulge in his breeches proved his eagerness to have this love-play over and done.
"Have I helped enough?" she asked innocently.
"Undo the damned buttons, Sarah!" Forest bellowed.
She kissed the fifth button, and the sixth, undoing them with a slow, tantalizing motion. Without warning, she seized the waistband of the breeches and pulled them down about his calves.
"Sarah, what in the name of—" Forest grabbed for her as she dodged away and dove giggling onto the bed.
Still laughing, she burrowed between the sheets and pulled them up over her head. "Shame on you," she cried, her voice muffled by the cloth. "To ask a decent girl to do such things."
Cursing under his breath, Forest stood first on one foot, then the other, as he ripped off his boots, socks, and then the tangled breeches. With a roar, he leaped on top of the bed and pulled the covers aside. "Woman!" he threatened. "No more of your torture."
Sarah's eyes were huge and liquid in the firelight. She opened her arms to him, crying out with pleasure as he lowered his head to kiss her breast, moaning as he sucked and licked at her aroused nipples. His hands moved over her, stroking . . . caressing . . . fanning the waves of desire within her body.
"Torture me, would you?" He settled his hard body over hers, pressing his swollen member against her. "Ah, little Sarah, but I know something of torture myself," he rasped.
She strained against him, undulating her hips and entwining her legs with his. He lowered his head until their lips met in a sweet, all-encompassing kiss of shared passion. Their tongues tangled and withdrew and met again. His skillful fingers teased her swollen nipples until they ached . . . until she arched her back to offer first one and then the other to be loved.
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, turning it to run his tongue along the blue vein at her wrist . . . and then the soft underside at her elbow. Sarah's body shuddered with desire as he kissed her breasts and the dark line that lay between her navel and the nest of dark, curling hair. He moved lower and caressed her inner thigh, and then the soft flesh behind her knee.
"Forest . . . Forest," she moaned.
"Tell me," he commanded hoarsely. "Tell me what you want me to do to you, little Sarah."
"Love me," she cried. "Love me now!"
His cry of joy mingled with hers as they joined flesh and spirit . . . giving and receiving . . . letting themselves be swept up in the tide of mutual rapture.
Finally, when both lay spent and exhausted, Forest cradled Sarah in the crook of his arm and held her so close she could hear the beat of his heart. "Sweet Sarah," he murmured. "Sweet, sweet Sarah. I will love you all the days of my life." He stroked the hair tenderly away from her face. "And I swear to you," he promised softly, "that so long as you live, I will never take another woman."
"No," she protested. "You can't—" Her words were muffled as he silenced her with a lingering kiss, and then another, and another, until both forgot what she had tried to say, and they got on with the more important business of loving.