Latimer hadn’t been long away from Middle Plantation when he noticed Firewind’s ears twitching as though the horse heard something he’d not yet detected. Slowing, he pulled out his primed pistol. He also had his sword, but he’d left a second one behind in the armoire of his bedchamber, and he prayed he wouldn’t regret the oversight. The faintest thud of galloping hooves was carried by the stiffening breeze and alerted him to the fact someone was fast gaining upon him. He didn’t relish taking Firewind into the dense forest that grew up on either side of the narrow road, yet there was no other option available.
He veered off the road. Guiding his mount toward a cluster of trees, he hoped whoever approached would simply pass by now that darkness had fallen. He knew the ground here was marshy and reedy, making the footing uncertain and treacherous for man and beast. Perhaps confronting the approaching rider would be the best choice. If the man was merely traveling and in pursuit of home and bed, he would explain such and be on his way.
“Psssttt…hsssttt…” There was no mistaking the dreaded sound of a combative snake, and Firewind lost no time in displaying his apprehension. Neighing shrilly, he bounded from among the trees and tore wildly toward the road. The other rider pulled up sharply, and a sliver of moon illumined the steel of a sword at the man’s side. Though the rider had yet to brandish it, Latimer drew his own from its scabbard, prepared for what was certain to happen.
“Halt and I’ll give quarter,” he bellowed hoarsely, his voice unnaturally rough and nearly unrecognizable to his ears. Unexpectedly, the right to extend leniency was quickly wrested from Latimer as the still-fractious Firewind skittered and bucked. For the first time in his life, Latimer was unseated. As he hit the rutted dirt road, he lost possession of his pistol, which harmlessly discharged. Left with nothing but his sword, he scrambled to his feet and raised it in anticipation of an attack. The rider bore down on him, sword now in his hand. Latimer grabbed the man’s booted foot and yanked, throwing him off balance. He fell from his mount, hitting the road with jarring force, but forthwith the small man was back on his feet, cautiously advancing. Latimer had never engaged in a sword fight at night, but the shadowy man began to circle.
Impatience, Latimer’s fencing master had oft told him, could easily lead one to an early grave, but April’s safety was at stake, and Latimer couldn’t afford to lose any time. A wild lunge at his opponent left him slicing air as the man deftly danced away leaving Latimer amazed by his agility. His amazement was soon diminished when the man leapt toward him, forcing him back toward the wooded area and the unhappy snake lurking in the twining undergrowth. Their swords met with a chilling inevitableness as Latimer attempted to take the fight back out upon the road. One horse neighed wildly and the other snorted; both sidestepped nervously as they tried to keep out of the way of the fight.
Blades flashed in the moon’s glow and clanged, Latimer’s temper mounting by the second as his tenacious adversary ignored his attempts to bully through size and strength. Sweat ran down his face, and his breathing grew labored as the swordsman drew upon a combination of dexterity and cunning that taxed Latimer’s own stamina and strength. His opponent was truly skilled, his unerring movements and lightning swiftness an indication he’d been schooled by a master. Latimer’s arm ached, and he wondered how much longer he could hold out against this younger man with the persistence of a stalking tiger. Their engagement took on the overtones of a match—each parry, thrust, or glide countered by a beat, press, or strategic flick.
Anger engulfed Latimer and, determined to be done with the irritating matter, he thrust his blade hard at his intended victim. But such was not to be as the man crouched and kicked him in the shin. Reeling, Latimer landed hard on his back. He fell full out, his arms and legs spread, the breath knocked from him, leaving him vulnerable to the man’s attack. The blade swept in close to his head, Latimer wondering if the man had chosen to take it off. Gritting his teeth, he braced for certain death and prayed that God would protect April and Ceressa.
The flashing blade made contact but not with his neck—his hair—pinning him where he lay. Roaring out his rage, he rolled away, aware that a hunk of his hair was left on the road. Whipping about, he shoved the man down and brought his sword around, prepared to use it if the man so much as sneezed. At that moment, Latimer’s eyes fastened on the man’s heaving chest and shock spread. Reaching down, he grabbed one slim, gently rounded shoulder that a man’s shirt couldn’t conceal. Hauling up his captive, he brought her close to his face. The scent of roses teased his senses as a shimmering cascade of light-colored hair escaped a hat, and a tiny whimper passed her lips.
“Ceressa?”
“Latimer?”
Both spoke at the same time. So overwhelmed by the knowledge he could have killed her, he released her from his shaking hands. Ceressa crumpled to the road while he dropped to his knees drawing in huge breaths to steady his shattered nerves.
Ceressa sobbed, her arms wrapped about her shoulders, and she rocked back and forth as though in terrible pain. Forcing himself to move, he reached out to her. Ceressa tried to move out of his reach, but he wasn’t so deprived of strength that he couldn’t catch her arm. She quickly gave up her effort to resist.
“Why are you here? Do you know how close you came to dying by my hand?”
Slowly, she lifted her head.
“Perhaps I should be asking the same of you. You’re quite fortunate you only lost a bit of hair.” Of all the things for Ceressa to say. How like her—how absolutely like her to point out she’d bested him. Fear mingled with anger and desire as he drew her so close he could feel the beat of her heart against his chest, the dampness upon her flesh melding with that on his. “I might have k- k-killed you.”
“But you didn’t. Ceressa,” he rasped, “you shouldn’t have followed. Have you lost your mind?” He captured her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “How could Bengie have allowed you to leave?”
“I didn’t give him a choice.” Her words came out haltingly as she, too, struggled for breath. “I took your sword from the armoire and threatened to use it on him if he tried to stop me.”
“Then he did the wise thing.” Latimer managed an unsteady chuckle. Sudden remembrance of where he was bound and what he faced immediately sobered him, and he began to shake her. “You can’t come with me. I’m traveling deep into lands still held by the natives to find April. She’s her uncle’s hostage until I agree to put an end to Bacon’s activities. When I reach Bocatakum’s settlement, I’m not leaving without April. I could easily be killed. I won’t have you placed in such danger.”
Ceressa shuddered yet she kept her eyes on his face.
“I’m not leaving you. I’m going to help you just as you helped me in London. You risked your life to save me. Now I’m doing the same.”
“I didn’t help you expecting payment in kind. I helped because I didn’t want to see you hurt, because I cared about you.”
She caught her breath—her lips parting at his words, while her trembling ceased. Lifting a hand, she laid it against his beard roughened jaw. “Oh my,” slipped from her lips.
Reason warred with want, but Latimer was quickly defeated by rose-scented skin and a cascade of silky, pale gold curls that enveloped him in exquisite wonder as she swayed toward him. Standing, he drew Ceressa up with him then cupped her face and captured her lips.
****
When Ceressa roused, the fire was nearly extinguished. The dying sparks seemed to represent the end of her former life. She didn’t regret the change in her situation—she’d loved Latimer for so long she’d almost yelled aloud to all creatures that abided in the forest, “Thank You, Lord,” when he’d at last admitted that he cared. Turning slightly, she could see light from the diminishing flames flicker over his features. The strong jaw, the noble nose, the mouth that could be so firm yet in the moments not long ago passed, gentle and ever so pleasing.
A heat rose up within her, and she quickly looked away, overcome by the emotions that still played havoc with her.
Latimer stirred and rose up on an elbow, leaning over her to brush a kiss along the lobe of her ear.
“Is anything amiss?” His whisper tickled her flesh, and she wondered if he spoke so softly so as not to disturb any of the animals that might still be sleeping. She especially didn’t want that snake aroused that had caused all the trouble. As she recalled, a snake had been Adam and Eve’s downfall in Eden. She shivered, and Latimer wrapped his arms around her.
Those wonderful arms that had swept about her that terrifying night at the tavern when she’d thought she was soon to be torn limb from limb by the chasing mob. Turning over, she pressed her face to his chest. He kissed the top of her head, and her torturous memories eased. She knew she would always find safety in his arms.
“I didn’t mean for things to go as they did—I’d hoped we would have more elegant surroundings in which to celebrate our marriage.”
She looked up at him and smiled, not certain he could see her expression. “What better place to be than upon a bed of soft spring grass with a canopy of leafy limbs and a silvery sliver of a moon and stars for candlelight.”
“You are a poet.” He breathed as though deeply moved by her words.
“I’ve been known to write a verse or two.” She reached up and took hold of his cropped hair. “I’m sorry about this.”
“Don’t be.” Taking her hand, he pulled it to his lips. “I thank God above that it was I who suffered the most during our fight and that my loss was nothing more than a lock of hair. Had I lost you as a result of my foolish attack…” He fell silent and tightened his hold.
“Well, you did promise to fence with me. And I did promise to beat you.” She was teasing, but there wasn’t as much as a hint of teasing in his reply.
“You have no idea how anguished and despairing I was when I realized it was you.”
Ceressa was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, Latimer. And I might have killed you.” She shuddered inwardly. “Perhaps what I did was ill-advised, but I knew you needed help.”
“Did you, now? Help with my appearance, perhaps?” Now he was teasing, and she relaxed. “I’ll be the first to admit I needed a trim. And I could probably use a shave.”
The beard had proven to be a bit scratchy but hadn’t deterred Ceressa from openly displaying her affection. Even now, she was possessed of a wild urge to kiss him. It took a great deal of self-control to ignore the impulse.
Apparently, Latimer had no intentions of exercising any degree of self-control as he sought her lips. How was it the Lord had granted her the affection of this man? She was still awed by the miracle of it all. Just as she was wondering if her kisses were as perfect to Latimer as his were to her, he pulled away and stood, moving over to the now lifeless fire. He crouched beside it and poked about until a few sparks sprang to life.
Pushing herself up, she came to her feet and joined him, kneeling by the renewing fire. “You seem troubled.”
Latimer remained silent then resumed prodding the twigs and stout limbs he’d collected before they’d fallen asleep. “I hope I didn’t force you into something uncomfortable. Each day on the ship was absolute torture wanting you, fighting you, desiring you, resisting you. Everything exploded inside me last night. I hope I didn’t frighten you.”
“I’m glad it happened.” Ceressa wondered if saying such was acceptable for a gentlewoman, but it was what she felt. “It was the same for me on the voyage. Now, perhaps, we can discover God’s plan for our lives together.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Ceressa wasn’t sure if Latimer was expressing skepticism or hope. “I believe God brought us to this point for some reason. I want to follow this path in faith and with trust.” She knew that he was looking at her, for even in the darkness she could feel the heat of his stare.
Finally, he spoke. “You made a rash decision by following me this time. This path will lead to nothing but danger. It won’t be long until first light. Already I can see the change along the horizon. It’s going to be a hard day’s travel toward the York River, then we’ll cut over to the northwest to the lands still populated by the Pamunkeys. Be sure to keep that hat on your head. I don’t want any trouble from a native who might think you’d make a good addition to his long house. Stay silent, and for once, let me speak whatever needs to be said. Otherwise, we could both end up dead, and April will remain with her uncle and his people.”
“I understand. Why does Bocatakum think you’ve the power to sway Nathaniel Bacon?”
“Remember Bacon and I were friends when he first arrived in the colony. Bocatakum is aware of this. But he also knew that we parted on terms less than favorable.”
“Then you should tell Bocatakum what everyone else knows—that you are an enemy of Bacon’s.”
“Believe me, I plan to tell him once we reach his village. I’m sorry I have nothing to offer you to eat. I’d hunt for a rabbit or quail, but I can’t waste the time.” He stood and drew her up with him. He tipped her chin and ran his thumb across her flesh.
“I’m still not sure what made you steal Bengie’s clothes and ride off in search of me down a road you’ve never traveled with no way of knowing you’d catch up to me.”
“Faith.” Ceressa wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer, forgetting all about self-control.