Chapter Twenty-Eight

Joshua reread the contents for the fifth time, swearing at the delays in communication. A letter from Boston to the frontier took months and news from England took nearly a year.

Redcoats pulled their canoes on shore. He withdrew to a knot of trees to watch as Waneek greeted them. Sharp hand gestures and loud talk followed.

He moved to retrieve Juliet when she appeared at his side. He didn’t have to look to know she was there, like the caress of sunshine over a flower, an innate quality stirred with her nearness. She put her hand on his arm, her scent beckoning him, the same woman he made a vow to banish from his life.

“Two Eagles and Mary have gone farther into the forests. One of the women brought me to you. Do you think the soldiers will cause trouble?”

The redcoats dared to move beyond Waneek. Several warriors moved in front of them. “The soldiers showed disrespect to Waneek,” Joshua said. “But outnumbered, they dare not bring the wrath of the whole tribe on them. The Oneidas protect their own.”

He folded the letter and placed it in his bag, keeping an eye on their visitors. He rotated his shoulders, feeling the weariness there, his stitches tight and sore. It had been a long journey, and he required rest to recoup, and still a longer journey lay ahead.

“Bad news from home?”

He cast his gaze out over the rippling lake. Wind torn clouds raced across the midday sky. Shadows loomed across the earth, encircling the impenetrable forest. Branches forming a solid arc overhead shook with a gust. “Good and bad. The missives postdate to last December from my sister, Abigail, in Boston. I have nephew.”

“Congratulations.” Her exuberant smile warmed him. “Joy is a net of love when a baby is brought into the world. My years as a midwife are proof, and for me, when a child is born, it is like the grace of millions of angels descending on the earth.”

Thoughts of being an uncle flashed through his mind, thoughts about what it might be to be a father and hold his own child in his arms. That terrible, wonderful notion could make him happily elated and equally terrified.

Joshua assumed there’d be one great love in his life. Sarah. For ages, he reasoned she was the only one, yet this flame-haired beauty next him with her omnipresent smiles made him crawl out from beneath the fog of guilt and made him come alive, made him want more of which he had no right.

The flame-haired woman beside him had lifted long buried dreams. She released something inside him, made him pay attention to things he hadn’t let himself feel or think about. Oh, how he wanted more, but that claim was lost to him.

She lowered a branch to peer at the soldiers. “Is my cousin among them?

“No. Neither is Snapes, the coward.”

“Snapes is evil, and he must be stopped. I cannot believe my cousin took Snapes’ word over mine. There must be justice.”

Joshua lived in fear and rage. Fear for Juliet, his Achilles’ heel—vulnerable, and how he hated that vulnerability. His rage had also emerged; the seething animal in him unable to rest until he exacted retribution from the British captain who’d wronged her.

Juliet frowned, and then glanced up at him, waiting for him to continue. But he could not tell Juliet about Sarah, or Snapes’ vow to harm Juliet. No. He did not want her to worry. Before long, he’d have her far from here and out of harm’s way.

“Abigail writes their shipbuilding trade is booming, having received numerous orders from the Continental Congress, to build a Navy. Rachel Thorne, Captain Thorne’s cousin is in England at Belvoir as a guest of my family.”

He stared at the letters. “Father says there has been no news of my brother, Nicholas.” Joshua wanted to withdraw yet he wanted to retreat with Juliet, holding her in his arms and never letting go.

Why had he brought her here? God, he was weary. He should not have let her come. He should have tied her, or forced her back into her warm bed, anything to keep her at the fort. This trip was too dangerous. If only he had realized the biggest danger to her was him.

They stared into each other’s eyes, neither speaking. His heart pounded against his ribs. Was her heart beating as hard? As fast?

She stood tall, assessing him, his Aphrodite, still and perfect, warm and pliant. A wind caressed the land, then lifted a tendril of her red hair to tease the bristles on his chin. All those days behind her in the canoe, all those nights she sighed next to him in her slumber, had wreaked an avalanche of havoc on his senses.

They had come so far. Too far.

Another gust crossed the land, cool and sweet. It did nothing to ease the fire ablaze throughout his loins. He could see the rise and fall of her breasts with the uneven whisper of her breath—and he could see the pulse beating at her throat, beating there in anger, or was it anguish?

His longing suddenly peaked and he pulled her to him, gathered her into his arms, his mouth covering hers with savage hunger. She cried out from the cruel ravishment of his mouth and pushed away, but he crushed her to him. Her skin was so hot and he craved the feel of her…free from all her clothing. His blood rushed at the thought of her naked beneath him. Just one more touch…

At her resistance, his mind cleared enough to understand he was ending his attraction to her. But the warmth of her pulsing body and her hand, stroking the back of his neck created a white-hot blaze of lust.

He slid her sleeves down her arms, exposing rosy nipples beneath the filmy fabric. He palmed the satiny skin of her breasts, their tender buds hardening to the graze of his thumb and forefinger. He shoved her back against a tree and her moan inflamed him. He lowered his mouth, suckled her breast. She tasted like wild honey. He pulled back, surveying the wet sheen on her nipple. He ran his hand down her abdomen, her skin searing hot as he came to rest on her hip, pressing her intimately to his arousal.

Stop. He had to stop. Stop now. Breathing raggedly, his lust still fierce, a blunt reality somehow snapped through his passion-ridden brain, he pushed away from her. Glared at her.

“Juliet,” he rasped. “I’m taking you and Mary to Blackberry Valley where I will have you transported to Albany, and on to Boston. I must get you out of the frontier and back to England where you will be safe.”

“Mary is staying with Two Eagles. They are to be married.”

He stiffened. “I see.”

“The soldiers have gone back toward Fort Oswego.”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“I will not be safe in England. Once Baron Bearsted learns of my return, he will seek a way to be rid of me again.”

“Not this time. You will be under the protection of my father. He will see to it Baron Bearsted pays for his crimes.”

“What about the fact I committed treason in helping you escape from Fort Oswego?”

“I will tell my father how to spin the story. How I kidnapped you at gunpoint. My father is powerful and will back up the account. No one would dare go against him.”

“But what of us, Joshua? Doesn’t our time together mean anything? Our vows?”

“Quit spinning girlish dreams that will go nowhere. An annulment will be designated by my barrister. You’ll be free.”

“But—”

He held up a hand to silence her, and it tore him apart to voice the words. “Enough, Juliet. We both agree our marriage was in name only, a temporary solution to a precarious difficulty.” He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand, his thumb skimming over her bottom lip. Regret filled him with every word he spoke. “The pretense is up, Juliet. This forced marriage will be terminated. You will go to England, find a nobleman, be his wife and bear his children.”

Though he’d said the words, the thought was like a knife to his heart. To think of Juliet in another’s arms. A fat baron between her milky thighs.

He shook his head. Do not think.

He had to focus on her happiness. Her future. Not himself. “I will settle a sum of money for your use and make sure my father is aware you saved my life at risk to your own. Rutlands always pay their debts. He will be happy to launch you.”

She jerked back as if he struck her in the face.

“I-I see,” she said, her lip quivering. And then, her eyes riveted to his, she straightened. “You are not simply a liar, Joshua, you are a coward. You cannot face the fact that I love you. There I said it, may God forgive me, but I love you. If you do not wish to see me or speak to me again, I accept that too, however hurtful. What I will not accept, Joshua, is the denial, of your feelings for me. You lie to hide it. You do love me. As sure as the wind blows and I breathe, you love me, and before I leave, I will make you eat your remarks, every damned, lying one of them, I promise you that.”

Guilt rolled through him like hot lava. “We are not meant to be together. It is over, Juliet.”

* * *

Joshua met the rest of the day in torment. Part of him wanted to find Juliet and apologize. The other part faced reality. To protect her, he had to send her away.

He came upon Waneek as she worked at weaving a basket. Without looking up, she said, “British soldiers arrived and asked if we had seen any of you. I told them warriors returning from a hunting expedition had seen a group of their description traveling far to the southeast.”

Joshua looked round for a glimpse of Juliet. “Thank you, Waneek.”

The old woman wove a long reed, in and out, in and out. “You are leaving? What of your woman?”

“She will come with me. I will leave her with friends at Blackberry Valley until I can secure her passage to England.”

Waneek was quiet, and then finally spoke. “The reed with which I weave is strong when woven. But if the reeds were not here, there would be no basket. You must learn how to weave them all together.”

Joshua gazed into her upturned face. Two Eagles’ mother was very wise. “I’ve promised to spy for General Washington…I have a duty to fulfill.”

Waneek snorted. “What is duty compared to a woman’s love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms? Duty is what the Earth Mother Spirit has fashioned us for love. That is our greater glory.”

Together, they watched Juliet stroll across the village and pick up a baby that had toddled too close to a fire. Smiling, she kissed the infant and placed the babe in the hands of the mother.

Waneek put her basket aside and stood majestic. “I will not finish the basket today. Better to weave more slowly…and more surely. Then there will be no obligation to unravel what has been woven before.”

Waneek cradled her warm palms on his face. “You are like a son to me, so I will speak. The Horned Serpent, the embodiment of conflicting impulses resides in your heart. Torments keep you away from your destiny. You hide behind wounds. Do not be afraid to be strong.”

“I’m sorry. I must honor my commitments.”

Waneek dropped her hands. “You will remember my words. I hope it won’t be too late.”