Glimpse Time Travel: Enemy Of Mine Part 12

Today's drills took on an air of determination too, because Erva knew that in two days' time they would attack Manhattan. The thought made her queasy. Again, she realized reading about past events was one thing. Living through them...she didn't know if she could. The battle that commenced in two days was badly handled by the Americans. There were many casualties. Even more prisoners of war who would rot in a prison boat docked off the Hudson Bay.

Maybe she could do something about that. She blinked while she sat on a cus.h.i.+oned wicker chair that had been given to her. Inspiration set in. She'd talk Will. He wouldn't stand for anybody, not even his enemy, sitting in terrible prisons, dying horrible deaths from starvation, influenza, and smallpox. Yes, she'd talk to him about...

Two thoughts crashed into Erva's mind then that made her clutch at her heart. The first was that she was Will's enemy. She was as American as they got. For this war, she sided with the men the redcoats were targeting, the men Will had and would bring to their knees. He would kill so many of them in a couple days.

The second more earth shattering thought was how much she'd grown to care for her enemy, Will. She watched him talk to a small group of privates as he demonstrated how to run with a bayonet. He said something to the dozen boys, and they laughed as if they didn't have a care in the world. Will did that for them. By training the men, becoming so close to them, he'd ensure that the troops under him would thrive during war. Erva took in a shaky breath, realizing she still held her hand over her heart.

Will glanced at her. His smile faded when he caught her eyes. Saying something to his boys, he strode toward her. He was so big, so tall, so powerful. His black boots were spotted with mud, and much of his uniform was too, but he seemed his most content dirty, maybe even his most handsome.

Erva's body stirred with every step Will took towards her. G.o.d, why was she so attracted to him? Okay, he was nice on the eyes, but she'd seen and hung out with several good-looking men. None of them had this effect on her. He was intelligent. This she knew from everything she'd read and from spending the brief amount of time with him. Thoroughly steeped in Enlightenment philosophy, he'd related his beliefs about world-wide revolution and rights for everyone, as if that wasn't s.e.xy enough to make her think of getting her hands on him. And although being brilliant and considerate was such a turn on, again, she'd known other smart, innovative men. So why did her b.r.e.a.s.t.s feel too heavy as he neared, the apex of her legs felt like liquid gold?

"Are you all right, Erva?" he asked when he was close, then immediately dropped to one knee so she didn't have to crane her head back to look at him.

He was incredibly thoughtful. Erva knew that this was one reason why she wanted him so bad. But the other...

"Erva, my-" He cut himself off.

She suspected he was going to call her a name of endearment. She'd thought of doing the same too many times herself.

"My knee..." she could only whisper. Although the morning's ibuprofen was wearing off, which was making her a wee bit uncomfortable, that was not at all the reason she wanted to leave.

"Shall we go back home to ice it? I have that dreaded banquet to attend this evening, but shall we cancel?"

He'd said "we" as if they were already a unit. G.o.d, she felt like it too. How could that have happened? She'd known the man a little more than a day. But then again, they'd been spending almost every waking moment together. And that was the way she liked it.

She couldn't stand the thought that soon battle would commence, soon men would suffer, soon reality would come to fruition, and Will would die.

He carefully settled an ungloved hand on hers. It was dirty and had black smudges of gunpowder on it.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, trying to pull away from her.

She guessed it was because he was stained, but she didn't care. Grasping at his hand, even holding it on her lap, she tried desperately to think of the words she wanted so much to tell him. Only, out of her mouth came, "I think we should attend the banquet, but if we could slip away to ice my knee now, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course. Shall I call a carriage to escort us-"

"The horse is fine."

It was more than fine. It had been exquisite feeling him at her back, especially as he nipped at her neck.

She was supposed to be professional, aloof, distant, she reminded herself.

Will lifted her hand to his mouth where he kissed two of her knuckles, reminding her why professionalism just might be overrated.

"Of course, darling." He blinked, then winced slightly, as if waiting to be reprimanded.

The word darling had always sounded so...snotty and superficial to her. She'd thought of a stiff, old Brit couple that'd never meant the word, or worse of women calling each other darlings, in that b.i.t.c.hy, not at all endearing way.

But the way he'd said it, the way his voice hadn't tripped over the word, but more like he'd been wanting to say it all along, yet had somehow restrained himself until this very moment...well, she was a convert. She loved it, loved being called darling, as long as Will was the one doing the calling.

She grinned, not trusting her voice or her brain for much use after that.

Actually, it was Mrs. Jacobs who iced Erva's knee, as well as confide that she, Lady Ferguson, was the talk of the town. Not only was she known as a talent, but people kept speculating how long Will and she had been in love.

Wasn't that just the way people were? Through a revolution, a demanding of rights, and war, people were more interested in a love match than anything else, especially a scandalous one. Erva reminded herself yet again that Will had a reputation as a lady's man. She would be another notch on his bedpost.

Or would she?

"Mrs. Jacobs," Erva interrupted the maid's fis.h.i.+ng for more information about her and Will. "Do Miss Emma and Miss Lydia visit Will, er, Lord Hill often?"

The maid blinked, but then shook her head adamantly. "Nay, not once, my lady."

"Not once?"

Mrs. Jacobs sighed, and Erva's heart stung. She knew Will had been too good to be true. She braced herself for the truth.

"Lady Ferguson." Mrs. Jacobs actually took one of Erva's hands and held it tight. "General Lord Hill rents this house from my master, Mr. Williams, who's out of town on business. So I have not known the lord very long. But in all that time, there has never been a woman in this house, nor in his chamber, and I would know, since this house runs because I do. Ye might think me simple or stupid, but I pride myself on being the queen of the house, since I run it. And I know everything. Those rumors about the lord are false, and I've tried many a time to counter the claims, but still they stick." She pulled on Erva's hand a little more. "Please forgive my forwardness, but I'm so glad ye came. Now people will know how kind and descent Lord Hill is, because they already fawn over ye, and they'll see in the process what kind of man he is. They'll see the truth of the matter."

Erva squeezed Mrs. Jacobs' hands as she thought of a response. Internally, she was jumping for joy, thinking that maybe, just maybe the rumors weren't true. Perhaps that's why she was so attracted to him, because he was honest, kind, brilliant...oh G.o.d, the list went on and on. And he was not, repeat not, a rake.

"I would never think you simple or stupid, Mrs. Jacobs. In my mind, you are the queen of the house."

"Ah, thank ye, ma'am. I'm so glad ye came, so glad of your love for Lord Hill."

Love? Erva thought, she wasn't in love. A serious case of l.u.s.t, yes, but love? Jumping into love proved reckless, breaking the rules was, as Mrs. Jacobs might say, simple and stupid.

However, fighting through all Erva's thoughts was the reminder that she had done everything right for her marriage. She'd played by the rules. She hadn't gone to bed with her husband until she knew he was serious about her-three months into the relations.h.i.+p. When her ex-husband, Cliff, had pouted over her gun skills, she'd purposely shoot wide. She'd covered up the fact that she was knowledgeable, because she knew it bothered him. She'd supported him, nurtured him, and even tried to pretend she didn't know he had cheated on her with one of her own students. She'd done so much, followed all the guidelines, but look where it had gotten her.

It wasn't so much that Cliff had broken her heart, and he had, but it was more that by the time she signed the divorce papers she had been humiliated. Yes, she'd been embarra.s.sed because of the things he'd done, but what shook her to her core was the fact that she'd disgraced herself. Not once had she been true to her heart.

"There now." Mrs. Jacobs smiled as she smoothed the purple evening dress Erva wore. "Ye look simply beautiful, my lady."

Erva took Mrs. Jacobs' hands in hers again. "Thank you." Once more, she wanted to say something else, add to her grat.i.tude, but the words seemed evasive. So she repeated herself. "Thank you so much."

Surprising Erva, Mrs. Jacobs gave her a quick hug. "My pleasure," she whispered, then pulled away while straightening the dress one last time. "Now, I want ye to enjoy yerself at the banquet."

Erva decided then and there she would. And as she did so, she'd figure out a way for Will not to die.

Chapter 14.

Erva had asked Mrs. Jacobs to tell Will that she waited for him in the carriage, needing privacy to talk to him. Will's attack on Kip's Bay was slated in two days. Not only could she ask him to take it easy on the Americans, but she had to figure out a way for him not to fight the day after that battle. The day he was to die.

That was when Erva realized he'd carefully never answered her when she'd asked him why he was here. If he agreed America should have her independence, and he'd said as much just hours ago, then there was no reason for him to be here. He seemed to be pro-American if anything. So why was he here?

Many a British military man hadn't agreed with the war. In fact, both commander in chiefs of the British Army and the Royal Navy, the Howe brothers, had voted against the war too. But here they were. However, Erva knew that the brothers were monarchists who came to the war to force peace upon the rebelling colonies. They were thoroughly steeped in aristocratic hierarchy. Will was not though. When asked further as they'd traversed back to his rented manse, he'd spouted of equality, egalitarianism, talking about women voting, everyone voting.

Yeah, she should get to bottom of why he would come here to fight.

Will jogged out of his rented mansion toward her in the carriage. She'd left the door open, since it was a warm night and even let her slip of a shawl drape low, revealing her shoulders.

G.o.d, what had she just been thinking? She utterly forgot as Will got closer.

"Erva, what are you doing waiting for me? I'm supposed to be the one to wait on you." Will hurried into the carriage, his face tense. "How fares your knee?"

That did it. He was so perfect with the combination of chivalry and consideration. Erva latched onto his cravat and pulled. She kissed him before he could say another word, but he did make an odd noise against her lips.

He'd been hovering over her, not yet seated, but with the kiss, and then the driver decided to take off, Will careened onto the bench next to her. He tried to keep up with her frantic kisses, but pulled away, panting.

Leaning a little out of the carriage, he closed the door, then turned to her with a wide smile. "Perhaps I should cancel attending the banquet after all?"

She shrugged. "We'll go, but let's try to make it short." Then she lunged for his lips again.

However, making things short at the banquet, where everything looked remarkably similar to the first soiree Erva had attended last night, turned into an agonizing feat. It seemed all of New York, including many people from Manhattan-the island that was still under Continental control-had come to meet her. There hadn't been one moment that Erva could cling to Will and tip up to kiss him. Too many people surrounded her, too public. But she did love that Will was constantly at her side, giving her a small, happy grin.

He didn't talk much, but instead let her for him. People a.s.sumed they were already a couple, and if Will didn't mind, then she didn't either. Well, she liked it, truth be told. No, she loved it. She loved already feeling connected to him.

She kept trying to remind herself that she shouldn't feel this way, none of this made sense, but then Will's hand at the small of her back warmed her, sizzled through her. He leaned down and whispered in her ear that she glowed like gold, and she couldn't stop the constant gnawing need growing within her for him.

Two hours into the banquet, the crowd begged for another performance. Lady Anne requested the song she'd sung last night and one other. Having enough of the crowd, and Winny's continual whining appearance, Erva agreed, deciding to bring the house down, as the musicians from her time would say. She replayed the song by Danny Elfman, the sad tune, and thought she'd sung even better this time. The crowd cheered, but then she decided on cheating, and performing Beethoven who was still a child somewhere in Germany right about then. Well, playing the first song had been cheating, but Beethoven, especially when given that no one had ever heard anything like him, would astonish the crowd.

Will proudly smiled at Erva acknowledging the applauding crowd with a serious nod after her first piece concluded, but then began to study the pianoforte in earnest. She closed her eyes as her back straightened. The mob hushed as if they were at church as soon as she swept her hands back on the keys then began to play the saddest melody he'd ever heard. She didn't sing. No, this was a pianoforte concerto, but he'd never heard anything like the agonizing song. People were too aghast to say anything, for the tune was also lovely beyond compare.

"Oh," Will heard Lady Anne whisper, then touched her hand to her heart.

Even the contemptible Winny had stopped her incessant sneering and stared at Erva. She was beauty defined. Erva's dark honey eyes opened from time to time to watch the keys of the pianoforte, as if her hands were no longer part of her body, but rather an extension of the music. The piece deepened, slowed, then lifted, and sung of dark nights, longing, and loneliness. This music was made from a heart, a heart that had known pain, the kind he'd endured.

Was Erva the composer? Even if she were not, the fact that she knew the music to match his soul made him want to...Lord, one part of him wanted to tear her from the pianoforte to stop the anguish. But it was so breathtaking, he knew he wouldn't dare halt the music.

The melody, though, slowed and stopped. Erva's hands remained on the keys, indicating a coming sonata. Soon, she began the second movement, this one cheerful and eager. Joyful even. Yet it matched the first movement in tone, for there was a dark undercurrent that had him, no, the whole crowd, glued to her hands, her svelte body swaying with every measure. She looked up at him as the second movement stopped. Then she winked and her fingers flew.

This time there were gasps from the crowd. The music swept up and down the pianoforte in a magical way. This movement was elated, needing, desirous. Again, so like him. But this was music for the way she made him feel. His heart thudded loudly, and he felt it all the more impacting against his ribs. He tried to swallow away his pa.s.sions, but no one in the crowd was doing any better. Men loosened their cravats. Women's dresses' pins popped, and most of the ladies of the crowd clutched at their chests or lips. There wasn't a sound other than Erva's playing. Most stared at her now with their mouths agape.

Will made sure his own lips weren't ajar. He stared at her again as the music settled into something similar to the second movement. Yet so...raw. G.o.d, he wanted her. He had heard of women who flung themselves at composers, and he'd never thought himself to be like one of them. But there he was, beside himself with need for her.

With two last chords, the music was over and Erva stood to a completely quiet mob.

She started to stride toward him, but then a crowd outside the manor began to cheer. The windows had been opened, and Will clearly heard the proof that his Erva was a musical genius. Finally, the persons inside the house erupted with their own applause. It was deafening when Erva reached him.

He held her hand and leaned into her ear to whisper, "I'm sorry, my darling, but I'm going to steal you away from the banquet now." Leaning away, he caught her grin up at him.

"It's about time."

When the people started to gather around him, he simply picked up Erva and said over his shoulder, "She must leave now. Her, er, fingers need rest."

He felt Erva's giggle against his hands as he hastened out of the house. The crowd outside was his own soldiers, and the instant they spotted him with Erva in his arms, they began to clap and holler even louder, huzzahing even. People rushed after him, calling out to Erva, yelling their bravos.

His footmen raced after his carriage that skidded to a stop as Will sprinted toward it. The whole while he felt Erva giggling against his hands and arms, his chest. She had her arms twined around his neck, and Will could hardly think of anything else. He almost threw her into the carriage on the bench seat, then slammed the door shut on the roaring crowd of soldiers mixed with the upper crest of New York's society-all cheering her, adoring her, wanting more. Perhaps he was being selfish taking her away, but he couldn't help himself.

The driver made the horses cantor, and Erva clutched onto his red coat to hold on. He carefully placed his hands over hers.

"By G.o.d, that was the most beautiful music."

"Did I play it well? I haven't played that piece since I was an undergrad."

"Pardon? An undergrad?"

Her eyes widened, even in the dim light of the carriage Will could clearly make that out.

"I, um, did you like it?"

"Very much." He nodded and found her waist with his hands. Lord, he wanted to pull her inside of him if he could. But he couldn't forget that word. "Do you mean you were an undergraduate?"

She took in a shaky breath. "Where I come from-" her hands retracted from him, and he wished he hadn't asked. She was obviously uncomfortable, but she continued. "Okay, where I come from women can attend universities."

He found one of her hands and squeezed it. "That's divine. Where did you attend university? Prussia? What does oh-kay mean, by the way?"

She clenched her eyes closed, grimacing.

"I keep asking things that are making you uneasy. I must apologize."

She reached up and latched onto his coat again. "No, please don't apologize." Her amber eyes dipped to her hands and lingered there. Seeing the pale skin of her neck, where her pulse beat, he wished to kiss her right there. He was just about to when she said, "There's so much I need to tell you." Her tone was more serious than he wanted.

It seemed she was refusing to meet his eyes. He hooked a finger under her chin then gently lifted until she gazed upon him again.

"I'm thrilled you were educated and not merely by tutors as most other women of England are. Do you worry that I'd think less of you for it?" That was what he guessed by her nervousness. Ah, but what an inspiration Erva was, educated at university no less. Other English women would soon follow her lead, he hoped, since already a few in Russia and France had as high of an education. The nagging thought, like a gnat buzzing about his head, came through then. What if she were a spy? Only, not American, but French? French intelligence was impressive, and they were everywhere throughout the colonies. He also knew Britain fought to keep up with their invasive intelligence networks. Further, France openly employed women. In fact there was the famous Chevalier d'Eon, whom no one knew whether he was a he or a she.

Erva exhaled quickly. "Yes, I just-and I know-but you need to know-"

He was flooded with relief, feeling it calm his muscles through his back and neck. She was, indeed, nervous that he would be a prejudiced, backwards man about her education, probably like so many of his countrymen. "Darling, I know you are intelligent, and the fact that you are educated makes me happy for you. I doubt with your clever mind you'd be content without a degree of some kind."

"A PhD, I've earned my PhD."

He blinked. "A Philosophi Doctorate?"

She nodded, her eyes so wide and dark. Will doubted she knew that she clutched at him a bit too fiercely. He saw her open fear, gauging him for his reaction, waiting for him to judge her.

"Lord, I'm a lucky man." He hoped to sound tender. "Such an educated woman and so talented, and you're here with me."

She batted her long lashes. He wasn't too sure if tears started to form in her eyes.