Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

Four months later…

March 10, 1778

T he morning she awoke at home knowing for certain she carried her husband’s child, Tabitha Lassiter opened her eyes to the pre-dawn light and shivered—with delight. She was free. Her debt to Hugh Jackson had been discharged at Christmas. She was married to the man she loved, and they would soon grow their new family. How best to tell him?

She turned her head to find Edmond already awake and lying on his side, watching her.

“Morning.” His unbound hair framed a face wreathed in an amused, slightly smug smile.

“What?” Self-consciously, she rubbed her eyes and smoothed her own hair.

“Did you know you wrinkle your nose in your sleep?” Edmond tweaked the tip.

She wrinkled it again, then laughed. “I was dreaming of coffee. With chocolate.”

“Well, let me get right to it, milady.” He turned toward his side of the bed and threw his covers off as though he would hasten to the hearth in the next room.

Tabitha caught his arm, pulling him back. Rumors that Congress might authorize a third Florida campaign made her fight the daily desire to cling. “I can wait.”

All it took was the murmur of suggestion in her voice and he was drawing her against him, his ginger bristles lightly rasping her tender skin as he rained kisses across her face and neck. When his lips found the hollow at her throat, then her collarbone, she tilted her head back and gave in with a soft moan.

At night, Edmond showed how he cherished her, whether by discussing Scriptures with her, or in quiet moments of contentment doing small chores by the fire, or in the type of blissful lovemaking she had never known existed.

In the mornings, astonishment and immense gratitude overwhelmed her when she woke to find him at her side. Of course, there were stretches he had to remain at the fort. During those times, she returned to her old room at the dogtrot cabin. But those only made the time they shared in their quarters behind their store more poignantly sweet.

That they had this place, with the day’s new light just highlighting the edges of the shutters as they entangled in marriage’s most intimate embrace, was a miracle in itself. The very day they had reconciled last autumn, Edmond’s men from the fort and McMullan’s crew had worked together to rebuild their new home. Though only the milled floorboards, which had been piled to one side of the lot, and the stacked stones of the foundation and chimney had remained of the first structure, by the wedding night, they had a roof over their heads. Tabitha had not minded one whit that they had slept before the hearth on aught but a pallet and quilt. They hadn’t slept much, anyway.

Birds twittered in the trees by the time Edmond tucked his shirt into his breeches. “I need to get back to the fort this afternoon,” he told her over his shoulder.

“Then you’d best get to it.” Tabitha giggled and poked his back. “You still have a storeroom to organize.” The day before, the balance of the stock they had ordered from Darien had arrived. They had spent the day hauling a cart and a barrow filled with crates, bags, and barrels from the river after the goods were ferried over. “But first…” She pulled the quilt around her chest and sat up, pushing back her long locks.

“First, what?” He turned to look at her, his brow quirked, as though half expecting her to pounce on him. His gaze swept her, and he blew out a breath. “Egads, woman. Do not look at me that way. I will never get anything of consequence done.”

“I think you already have.” She could not quite mash down the smile determined to erupt on her lips.

He tipped his head. “I do not take your meaning.”

Tabitha cradled her hand over her abdomen. She lowered her lashes as her face flushed, but she could not bring herself to say the words. Saying it made it real, and there were so many risks. Especially given her history. “’Tis early yet, but I cannot keep this from you.”

He stood there a moment, one brow hovering low, until she finally met his gaze. Then he must have read the truth in her expression, for his face went slack. “You’re—you’re not…”

She nodded.

His sudden whoop straightened her back and pulled a giggle from her. “Thank You, God! Oh, thank You, Jesus!” Edmond bounded across the bed to sweep her into his arms and cover her face with kisses.

Until that moment, she never would have guessed how much he wanted a child of his own—and how he must have shared her concern that she might be barren. He had always played off any desire to become a father, saying he was not in a hurry and if it was the Lord’s will…

Tabitha batted back tears as she held his head to her shoulder and twined her fingers in his hair. Please, God, keep our child safe.

He drew back to cradle her face, wearing a smile that lit his entire countenance. “A child of our own! Tabitha, you have made me so happy.”

“As you have made me.” She kissed his lips, then gave him a little shove, for if he kept looking at her in such a manner, she would melt into a useless puddle of emotion. “Now let us break our fast so you can organize the storeroom and I can go tell Dulcie. As I figure it, her child will be born a couple months before mine.” In this, as in so many other things, Tabitha had no doubt Dulcie would go before her, showing her the way. Not as a servant or an employee, but as the truest friend.

“But you have not been sick in the mornings.” Edmond stated his realization as they both finished dressing.

Tabitha glanced up from pinning her short gown closed. “Like my sister’s, my unsettled stomach has hit in the evenings. Have you not noticed how I have mainly been eating bread?”

“And I have kept pushing you to eat more meat.” He chuckled and came around the bed to place his palm against her abdomen. “Still perfectly flat. You are quite certain?” He searched her eyes.

“Quite certain. I just missed my third monthly course. This is real, Edmond.” As the cold grip of fear squeezed her heart, she grabbed his arm. “So do not put yourself in unnecessary danger. I do not think I could…” She swallowed, unable to complete the sentence.

He brushed his finger over her lips. “Do not speak it. If General Howe has his way, the new governor’s plan for another invasion will come to naught, and I will be here for the birth of our child.”

Comforted by his reassurance, Tabitha went to heat the porridge while Edmond disappeared into the storeroom. He returned a few minutes later with a small square tin. She straightened from the hearth and tipped her head to one side. “What is that?”

“Cocoa.” His grin could have made the sun stop in the sky. “For your coffee. If this is not a day to celebrate, I know not when it would be.” Setting the canister on the table, he came forward with his hands extended, grabbing hers and capering around her in the steps of a Scottish jig that soon had her laughing, breathless, and clinging to his arms.

A year ago, she never would have guessed that the stoic scout she’d accused of stealing her cattle would fill her life with the love and joy she had not believed she deserved.

Half an hour later, after a parting kiss, Tabitha left Edmond working in the storeroom that smelled of fresh pine and spices. His whistled tune trailed her out the back door. Young ladies in town, and those that live ’round, wear none but your own country linen. She took it up, humming and swinging her basket. Of economy boast, let your pride be the most to show clothes of your own make and spinnin’.

As Tabitha entered the clearing that surrounded the cabin, her humming of the second verse dried up in her throat. Her feet froze.

Men on horses broke from the forest to the south and spilled into the yard, the early-morning light glinting off rifles, pistols, and swords. One of them rode right toward her, his face set in a familiar sneer beneath his wig. His powerful stallion circled her, snorting.

“Good morning, Mrs. Gage.” He lifted his cocked hat and chuckled. “Why so surprised? Did I not promise we would meet again?”

Tabitha fought to keep the terror from her face as she stared up at Burntfoot Thomas Brown.

E dmond slid a box of cane sugar onto the shelf he had constructed in the storeroom during the winter and straightened with a huff. Not of exertion. Amazement. He was to be a father. He had not allowed himself to hope—to consider the possibility at all, really. During their betrothal, Tabitha had spoken briefly of her inability to conceive during her first marriage. She had not needed to, of course. Her childlessness spoke on its own. Like Temperance, he had hoped the impediment lay with Lord Riley. But he had not hesitated even if it did not. As he had told Tabitha, there were plenty of children in the orphanage in need of good homes.

Most men wished for issue of their own to carry on their name. For the past two years, Edmond had not cared if his name died with him, even if he was the last of his line. But now, having Tabitha by his side, Lassiter could mean something different. Something stronger. They could start a lineage with their own godly heritage.

Not could. Would .

He blew out a breath, ran his hand over his face, and went back to whistling as he maneuvered a crock of pickled herring beneath the shelf. His mother would be overjoyed. How long before it would be safe to write her? No, they would tell her in person and fetch her back here to her new home, as they had planned. She would be a help and comfort to Tabitha.

At a thump from the front room, Edmond straightened. “Tabitha?” Had she forgotten something? He had unbolted the front door to carry some empty crates to the porch earlier, but why would she not use the back door again?

No answer, only footsteps. Heavier than a woman’s. Sounded like boots. This would not be the first person who had stopped in, looking for supplies before the store was fully stocked. Tabitha planned to open next week, but with the shipment they had just received, Edmond could now serve a potential customer. He rounded the shelf only to halt on the threshold into the store and blink against the light.

Riding boots, yes. A tailored dark-green frock coat, a cocked hat over a smooth queue. Hands on a pair of dragoon pistols. With the morning sun coming in behind the man who stood just inside the entrance, it took Edmond a second to focus on his features.

His heart stuttered.

Julian Jackson. A wicked grin split his enemy’s face. “Edmond Lassiter. Just the man I was hoping to see.”

At the first twitch of Julian’s hand, Edmond reached for his sidearm—but Julian raised his own pistol, aimed, and fired.

“ W hat are you going to do?” From her spot on the bench beside Tabitha, Dulcie eyed the men ransacking the food in her cupboard, opening cabinets, and tossing her bedding about in their search for food and valuables. Thumps and crashes filled the air. Somehow, even though their hands were tied and Cyrus had been bound hand and foot to a chair, Dulcie had managed to keep her voice from wavering.

Had Tabitha attempted to speak, she would have had no such success. She could barely look at Thomas Brown as he stood leering over her. How had a morning that began with such joy and hope deteriorated into her worst nightmare?

Brown rocked on his heels. “I assume you mean what shall we do with you ? Unfortunately, our governor might frown on the murder of civilians. Unless you give us a good cause.” One corner of his mouth pulled up, as if that was exactly the outcome he hoped for. “However, we can certainly burn you out—after we take the fort. In the meantime, I shall leave a small guard to ensure you do not sound the alarm.”

Tabitha swallowed back a whimper.

She must have made some sound, for Brown looked at her and grinned. “Do not worry, madam. Your friends inside the palisade will suffer the same fate. And posthaste this time. Very soon now, you shall hear the report of our artillery.”

Clearly, he expected her to quail, for when she lifted her chin, he frowned. He did not know that Edmond was not at the fort.

Had her husband noticed the approach of the Florida Rangers in time to warn his men?

Had he known the cabin was surrounded? Please God, do not let him come here. If Edmond did, he would stop at nothing to protect her and the child he now knew she carried. And that could get him killed.

J ulian was overtop Edmond the moment after he fell, knocked backward by the force of the lead shot thudding into his chest. The shock of hitting his head on the shelf before he slid to the floor registered before the pain of the wound. He tried to drag his pistol from its holster, but Julian kicked his arm, crouched, and took both of his weapons away. He stuck one in his belt with his own while keeping the other in his hand.

“Lieutenant! We heard a shot.”

Someone from the fort had arrived! “Here…” Edmond rasped out the call for help, but Julian straightened and looked over his shoulder.

“I had to shoot him. He was drawing his weapon.”

The lieutenant the newcomers sought was Julian, not him. Whoever had come had stopped just inside the front door. Edmond heaved for breath. His hand came away from his chest red, but the shot had entered closer to his shoulder than his heart.

“No, sir,” the soldier said, “you are wanted at the cabin.”

“At the cabin?” A hungry smile quirked up one corner of his mouth, and Edmond’s stomach bottomed out. Tabitha . Julian waved his arm behind him. “Go. I will take care of this.” He turned to make sure they obeyed. “I shall be right there.”

Edmond lunged for his legs. Julian stumbled backward into a shelf and tumbled over Edmond. The pistol flew from his grasp. Edmond scrambled for it, but darkness ringed his vision, and fire shot up his left arm. A thump and a scrape, and something heavy hit the back of his head. Awareness faded as his hands were grabbed and tied.

Julian said, “Guess I have to wait to burn you out a second time. But this time, I shall make sure you go up in flames with the place.”

T he rangers who had entered the cabin with Brown were leaving. The attack on the fort was going ahead. Commands and the drum of horse hooves carried from the yard.

“Are they gone?” Tabitha glanced at Dulcie with wide eyes.

Cyrus jostled his chair in an attempt to free himself from his bonds. “They said they would leave a guard.”

“And here we are.”

At the familiar voice, Tabitha’s head swiveled. A tall form filled the doorway, and her heartbeat faltered. “Julian!”

“My dear Mrs. Gage.” He strolled forward, one brow raised. “I must say, ’tis a disappointment to meet thus, with you trussed up with these Patriot traitors. I held out a final hope that being dispossessed of your livelihood would send you to Savannah.”

“Then you have not heard.” She pulled her shoulders back. “We rebuilt…and it is Mrs. Lassiter now.”

The smug look faltered, but only for a moment. He came and knelt before her as two rangers marched in behind him. “But I have heard, and I was just at your new store. Your determination is even more remarkable than I thought. Unfortunately, I did not get a chance to offer my felicitations to the groom before I was called to your side.” He thumbed aside the edge of his wool frock coat to display the handle of a dragoon pistol—one that had been lying on Tabitha’s bedside table only an hour before.

A breath whistled between Tabitha’s teeth. Edmond! “What have you done to him?” Panic flooded her, and she leveraged the rope on her wrists against the table behind her in an attempt to wrest her hands free.

He chuckled. “Shall we just say that this time, I was not the one left in a bad way?”

What did that mean? Surely, he had not…

Horror unfurled in her chest, but she could not let it overtake her. Not if she wanted to survive.

Boom! The foundation of the cabin shook at the sound of artillery fire. Pottery in the sideboard rattled, and the women gasped.

Julian let out a delighted peal of laughter, then clapped like a child watching a fireworks display. “And here we go!”

Tabitha glared at him. “They will never surrender.”

“Oh, I daresay it shall not take long with two artillery pieces and two swivel guns.” Standing, he rubbed his hands together. “Not to mention, a hundred rangers. But do not worry. Your beloved shan’t be caught in the action. I have my own plan for him.”

Tabitha held back a cry. So he wasn’t dead. She had to get free of Julian. Go find Edmond. This time, it was she who must not be too late.

“Well. Now that the attack has begun, we’re to fire your cabin.” Julian gestured the two rangers forward, and for the first time, Tabitha noticed that they carried unlit torches.

“No!” Cyrus planted his feet on the floor and straightened his legs at the same time he whipped sideways. The legs of the chair sliced into the nearest soldier’s privates, doubling him over with a sharp cry.

The other ranger swung his torch like an ax right for Cyrus’s face.

As Dulcie screamed and Tabitha leapt to her feet, the impact sent Cyrus flying backward. The chair bounced on the floor with Cyrus still tied to it, and he landed on his side with a grunt and the splintering crack of wood. A chair leg skittered across the floor. A bright strip of blood appeared with vivid clarity on Cyrus’s dark cheek. He gave his head a rapid shake and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Stop this!” In two steps, Tabitha placed herself between the men and her friend’s husband. She turned pleading eyes on Julian. “You said you wanted to be different from your father. You do not need to hurt Cyrus. He has done nothing but defend his home.”

A bitter tangle of a laugh rumbled from his chest. “Oh, I learned a long time ago that one does not go against Father. The only choice is to help him expand his empire. And for now, that means quashing the rebels. All of them, including you.” His fingers wrapped around her forearm, and he started to move her aside.

“Please, Julian. You are better than this.” Surely, she could appeal to some nobler part of him.

He leaned closer. “You think so?” His brow furrowed. His grip tightened.

She bobbed her head. “I do. Why not just leave us be?”

He tilted his head first one way, then the other, appearing to consider the matter. “’Tis true that a word from me could spare your pitiful little world.”

“That is right.” Tabitha held his gaze, nodding faster. She had already lost almost everything once. This time, they could be left with nothing. What would they do then? “We are no threat to you or your empire. Walk away now and you need never hear from us again.”

“Oh, but…” His mouth flattened, and he slowly shook his head. “Then you would be living right under my nose, reminding me every day of what I could not have. A man can only take so many rejections, Tabitha. No. This time, you shall have to earn my mercy.” He started for the door, tugging her along with him.

“No!” She fought back, but he wrangled her forward. “You are an officer. A gentleman. You wouldn’t dare harm me.”

The look he slanted over his shoulder was such a fierce mockery of tenderness, it chilled her blood. “On the contrary, I’ll be very gentle.”

This could not happen. Not this.

Tabitha locked her legs, but Julian pulled her out of the cabin. At the threshold, she kicked his shin and attempted to stumble back inside.

One of the rangers stepped into her path, his pistol drawn.

Julian jerked her by the ropes that bound her wrist, leading her backward across the dogtrot. When they stopped and she spun partway around, he reached for the door to her room. She could not let him take her in there.

A click resounded from across the yard, and a deep, wonderfully familiar voice commanded, “Let her go.” Edmond!

She hadn’t time to look, for Julian made a move for his pistol at the same instant he tugged on her bonds, whirling her?—

Boom!

Julian wavered and fell to his knees, a hole through his chest.

Tabitha heaved a sob of shock and relief.

Across the yard, Edmond lowered his smoking Kentucky rifle. But the motion revealed the scarlet stain on the breast of his waistcoat. She cried out and would have run to him, but boots pounded from within the cabin.

Edmond started running toward the house, drawing his dragoon pistol.

A flurry of movement from the doorway froze Tabitha in place as a ranger burst from the cabin. A shot from Edmond’s pistol exploded, and the man staggered backward, clutching his leg.

The other one, probably not yet twenty, face a mask of terror, ran out onto the porch with his own pistol in hand.

Why was Edmond not drawing his other gun? Tabitha’s heart contracted into a painful knot when she remembered that Julian had taken it. And with her hands bound behind her, she could not take it back.

The young ranger’s face registered the moment he realized Edmond had no other weapon. His arm leveled as he took aim.

Not only was Edmond not drawing a pistol, he was tottering. Falling to his knees in the dirt. His bloodied hand covered his wound. His gaze went to her, anguished. Seeming to beg her forgiveness.

“ No !” This time, the word she screamed might as well have ripped out her heart. She could not watch her husband, the father of her unborn child, die before her eyes.

Tabitha flung herself toward her foe.

Stumbling out of the cabin, Cyrus held the broken chair in both hands and swung it against the soldier’s head.