Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

B athed and shaven after his latest scout, Edmond rode Maximus toward Tabitha’s cabin with a light heart. Banners of late-July sunlight slanting from the west through primeval trees alive with the songs of exotic birds and winged insects signaled the coming of evening. The sultry air held the lemony scent of devil’s walkingstick abloom with creamy clusters of small flowers that reminded him of Tabitha’s hair. In deference to the heat, Edmond had opted for a linen waistcoat over his shirt instead of the heavier hunting shirt he normally wore. Hopefully, the timing of his arrival would produce an invitation to supper.

He couldn’t wait to see Tabitha. To share the drawing he’d been working on of an evening by the campfire. But if he were honest, it was more than that. He’d missed her these past two weeks. Thought far too many times about the way her slender waist had felt under his hands, and her hands in his, as he taught her jig and hornpipe steps to the notes of Alastair’s fiddle. And he was hoping for a peaceful season ahead far more than a Patriot officer who wanted to lick the lobsterbacks once and for all should—so he could see Tabitha often as they worked together on her land.

’Twas a dangerous thing to allow this attachment to grow, for despite what he had told her, this need to be near her went far deeper than that of a business partner or friend. But it felt good to be needed…and to finally be able to do something to make a difference. Was it wrong to enjoy that pleasure a little longer?

As he rode into the yard of her cabin, Tabitha came out on the porch. She lifted a hand, her face breaking into a smile, and then ran down the steps.

There was no denying the way his heart leapt at the sight of her.

Cyrus waved from an outdoor fire where he was turning a chicken on a spit.

Edmond waved back and dismounted as Tabitha hurried forward to greet him.

“Edmond! What a nice surprise. You look well.” She swept her gaze over him—was that approval in her eyes?—and flushed as he bowed over her hand.

“Thank you. As do you.” She wore a light-blue dress he had not seen before, her mob cap concealing most of her hair. Edmond flashed her a teasing grin. “And I am well, for there was no evidence of Loyalists on my last scout, and I am here now. With you.”

Her fluttering lashes and the way she pulled back, concealing her hand shyly in her skirt, confirmed that yes, he had actually said that aloud.

He hurried to explain. “I have something I want to show you.”

“Oh? What?” Curiosity sparked in her brown eyes. Clasping her hands behind her, she resembled a girl anticipating a present.

“Inside. If I am welcome?” Edmond raised his brows.

“You are always welcome. But can it wait until after supper?” Tabitha turned as Cyrus approached.

“Lemme take Maximus to graze,” he said.

“If I am not mistaken, Cyrus, the bird is ready for carving.”

“Yes, ma’am. I will bring it in soon as I get Maximus here on the picket line.”

“Thank you.” As Cyrus led the stallion toward the creek, Tabitha gestured to the cabin. “Come in.”

Edmond’s stomach rumbled at the idea of a home-cooked meal, and he gave her a wink, playing off the literal meaning of her invitation. “Am I invited to supper too?”

“Of course, you are.” She swatted his arm, then grabbed it to pull him up the steps. “Silly man.”

The affection thickening her voice wreathed his heart with the warmest insulation. Was this what coming home felt like?

“You picked a good evening to visit,” she said as she preceded him through the open door. “Dulcie’s parents paid us a visit today, and Annabelle brought her famous bread—and buttermilk pie.”

Dulcie looked up from slicing a crusty loaf on a platter at the table. “Welcome, Lieutenant. So nice to see you.” She gave him a warm smile, then cast a glance at Tabitha that seemed full of meaning he couldn’t decipher.

“Yes. Well. I shall set another place.” Tabitha hastened to the sideboard, where she fetched a fourth creamware plate and pewter mug and set them beside her own spot.

Edmond frowned at the creamware pitcher from which colorful wildflowers nodded in the center of the table. “I did not remember you having those dishes.”

“We did not. Annabelle brought them today. Do they not look nice?” Her voice sounded overly bright.

“Yes, but will she not get in trouble, carting off things that belong at River’s Bend?”

“’Twas only our second-best set. She said the Jacksons shan’t mind. Let me fetch the beans from outside and take Cyrus this dish for the chicken.” Taking up a creamware platter, Tabitha hurried through the door.

Edmond turned to Dulcie, who set a crock of jam on the table, her lips pressed tight. “I am sure you enjoyed a visit from your parents, but you must share my concern that the Jacksons will disapprove of their coming here—and bringing presents.”

“Oh, the presents were why they came. Master Julian sent them.”

“‘Sent them’?” Edmond’s heart bottomed out. “Your parents? Or the presents?”

Before the servant could answer, Tabitha preceded Cyrus back inside, carrying the platter of chicken while he toted a wrought-iron pot with a rag wrapped around the handle. “Edmond? Would you do the honors and carve?” Placing the tray on the table, Tabitha faced him with a brilliant smile.

“’Twould be my pleasure.” Though concern now diminished his appetite.

Still, he could not but enjoy the delicious meal, especially after weeks of jerky and hard biscuits on the trail. And maybe he only imagined that Tabitha kept him talking rather than offering her own updates. “You said there was no sign of Loyalists north of the Satilla, but what news do you hear?” she asked as she poured real coffee into a creamware mug before him.

Her touch on his shoulder drew his attention from his buttermilk pie. “No sign, but Lieutenants Robinson and Cannon, who are currently in command at the fort, have received intelligence that local Loyalists have been meeting with envoys from East Florida.”

She paused at his side, her face going slack. “Planning an invasion?”

“So they believe.” Edmond fixed a firm gaze upon her.

Cyrus sipped his coffee and set the mug back down. “Two lieutenants, you say? What happened to the captain who was at the fort?”

“Reassigned. And in the absence of senior officers, discipline suffers. The handful of men I commanded as a sergeant are the only ones I can count on to get anything done.” Edmond raised his mug and savored the flavorful brew as Tabitha moved away.

“Will they assign someone new?” She placed the pitcher on the hearth and resumed her seat beside him, drawing her own slice of pie close.

He shrugged. “Perhaps. But not one of the McIntoshes.” Edmond cut another bite of pie but finished his explanation before forking it. “You may have heard the Council of Safety refused George McIntosh’s request for a trial in Georgia. They planned to humiliate him by sending him to Congress under a strong guard. He fled to Darien last month, only to discover that men who said they were acting on the governor’s orders had ransacked his plantation.”

Cyrus grunted. “We did hear that. Mr. Long told us they seized his slaves so he could not get in his harvest, and they were huntin’ Mr. George like a runaway through the swamps.”

Chewing and swallowing, Edmond nodded. “That is the last I heard too. I imagine he and Lachlan will have to leave the colony to find any justice. ’Tis a shame for a family that has served Georgia so well to be treated thus. In the meantime, we do all we can to hold things together at Fort Howe. I pray an invasion does not come soon.”

After they finished dessert, Dulcie cleared the board while Cyrus went to the porch to light his pipe and Tabitha turned to Edmond with an eager smile. “Will you show me your surprise now?”

Edmond pushed his coffee back. “That I will.” He reached into the pocket inside his waistcoat and drew out the folded paper. Opening it, he laid it flat before her and waited in expectation as she leaned close and studied the drawing.

After a moment, she gasped softly. “Why, this is my store.”

“I’ve done a rendering of how it will look from the front as well as a floor plan.”

She touched the bottom of the page, then looked up at him, her brown eyes aglow. “Down to all the measurements and elevations. Why, Edmond, this must have taken you quite some time.”

He shrugged, though warmth flushed through him. “A good way to pass the long evenings.” Leaning forward, he pointed to the layout. “You see ’tis twice the size of a regular single-pen structure, but all under one roof. Thirty-two by forty. That way, we can use the standard length of timbers, and if you approve, I can request planks that same measurement be milled when we deliver your logs. We can join them to timbers running crosswise in the center, with supports beneath, to prevent sagging. That will provide plenty of room to display your merchandise, even larger items.”

“That would be perfect.” For all its enthusiasm, Tabitha’s reply was slightly breathless, and when their fingers bumped over the drawing, she shot him a quick glance and curled her hand. “Is this space in the back for storage?”

“This portion might be used for barrels and crates and such. You can store smaller items upstairs.” Edmond pointed to the measurements of the second story, then tapped the majority of the main floor behind the store. “This part would be given to living quarters. Two rooms—a common room and a bedroom.”

She sucked in her breath. Raised her head and glanced at him, then at Dulcie, who was wrapping up the remainder of the pie. “I could give Dulcie and Cyrus back their cabin.”

The servant shook her turbaned head. “’Tis not our cabin, Miss Tabitha, but yours.”

Tabitha seemed not to hear her. “But how could I live alone? That would not be safe.”

Edmond met her questing glance. “I do not imagine it would.” Awareness grew between them as his meaning settled over Tabitha, and a flush spread across her cheeks.

“Oh.”

“’Tis only an option for the future.” He found he couldn’t look away. The more he helped design Tabitha’s future, the more difficult it was not to picture himself in it.

“Seems you have more options than you thought.” The low-spoken pronouncement from Dulcie broke the moment.

Edmond glanced at her, then back at Tabitha. “You are considering something other than a store?” Had he done all this planning for naught? What had changed?

“No. This is perfect.” Tabitha drew his drawing toward her as if she feared he might scoop it up and dart out the door with it.

“She shan’t need living quarters in it, though, if Mr. Julian has anything to say about it.” The mulatto woman sashayed past, brows raised, taking the rest of her coffee with her to join her husband on the porch. A timely exit after dropping a cannonball on them.

Tabitha gasped. “Dulcie.” But with a swish of petticoats around the corner, Dulcie left them alone. Judging by Tabitha’s panicked expression as she turned back to him, this was the subject she had been skirting all evening. “Pay her no heed. Julian Jackson does not influence my decisions.”

“Then why are we talking about him? And why is he sending his overseer with gifts?”

She let out a little breath. “A vain attempt to sway me.”

“From working with me.” Edmond’s body went tense. Why had he thought the Jacksons would simply bow out if Tabitha found a means of supporting herself? That they would take no notice of his involvement? Indeed, his very presence in her life had probably doomed her. Julian would never suffer a lesser man to win—especially Edmond.

“I did not listen.” Tabitha ventured to touch his arm, but he withdrew.

“And what does he suggest you do instead?” He already knew the answer. And the way she firmed her mouth and blinked confirmed it. “He still wants to court you.”

“He claims to approve of my plan for income.”

“But he wants to be part of it. Of course, he does.”

“He thinks diversifying is better than planting the land in rice. He says he wants to go about things differently.” She was doing it again—talking around things rather than responding directly.

Just like Julian with his silver tongue.

Tabitha lifted one shoulder. “Perhaps we worry overmuch and he is not the foe we think him. After all, we know a son can chose a different path from his father.”

Edmond’s breath hissed in. How dare she compare him to Julian? “He is exactly the foe I think him. Men like him do not change.” He slid the sketch toward him and folded it, but Tabitha grabbed his hand before he could return the paper to his waistcoat.

“Stop. Edmond, I want to keep that. Even if he has changed, I would never marry Julian Jackson.”

“Did you tell him that?” He speared her with his gaze.

Her slender throat worked over a swallow. She had not. “I told him I valued my independence and that I knew he would understand that…just as you do.”

“I do.” And for some reason he wanted to run from, it pierced him like a bayonet. How far short of his hopes the reality of this evening now fell. Leaving the plans on the table, Edmond rose and stepped behind the bench. “Send Cyrus with a message when you decide about building.”

She scrambled up beside him. “Of course, I want to build. I haven’t changed my mind. Why would I? Why are you so angry with me? I did not ask Julian to call.” She trailed him into the center of the room.

Edmond whirled to face her. “You really need ask that? After I told you what he and his father did?”

“You think I should have sent him packing.” Her brow hardened to the appearance of marble. “But you forget, I still owe him a hundred and fifty pounds. Until I am free and clear of him, I am not safe. Is it not better to know the movements and plans of your enemy? Is that not why you spy and track and scout?”

Hmm. She made a fair point. But Tabitha going up against Julian was like a doe flailing her hoofs at a panther. “There are some foes you never allow into your territory.”

Her fingers curled around his arm, and she moved closer, her eyes blazing. “And to do that, you have to have ammunition. You have to have a way to keep him out. I have none. Not yet. But I’m getting it, with your help. The timber, the store, the income they will generate— that will be my ammunition. And you, if you will stand beside me.” She held herself firm with determination, her touch searing through his shirt, and her mouth trembled, full and inviting.

A quick step forward and Edmond curled his fingers around the back of her neck, tilting her face up to his.

She gasped, her lips parting.

“I am right here.” He touched his forehead to hers, their noses bumped, and he closed his eyes, inhaling the sweet citrus scent of her. His body hummed with desire, and her quick breaths betrayed her response to his nearness. But if he kissed her, there would be no turning back. And he couldn’t risk his heart to another woman who might tear it out and offer it to his enemy.

He took her by the arms and set her away from him. Confusion, then hurt, struggled over her face. Edmond’s fingers tightened on her flesh. ’Twas more important he kept her safe than spare her feelings. “I will help you, Tabitha, but you must stay away from Julian Jackson.”