Surrender the Night (7 page)

Rose cradled the bowl in her hands and made her way to the barn, trying not to spill the savory broth. Steam rose from the meaty stew. Her stomach growled. She’d been so anxious to feed Mr. Reed, she’d
neglected her own dinner. High in the sky, the hot August sun poured its own steamy rays on her.

“Hello, Prinney.” She smiled at the pig as she passed by his sty. He gave her a forlorn snort, but she couldn’t stop to let him out now. The redcoat—or bluecoat, she supposed because Mr. Reed was in the navy—had developed quite a voracious appetite since he’d awoken from his fever the day before. Other than bringing him food and checking on his wound, Rose had avoided him as much as possible. She would do only what was necessary to save his life and send him on his way. Anything more would be an insult to the memory of her mother and father. Thankfully, the man seemed even less interested in conversing with her than she did him. Though he spent much of his time in slumber, his eyes were regaining their clarity and his body its strength. A strength that caused Rose to feel increasingly uneasy in his presence—which was why she had elicited Amelia’s help today to change his bandage and move him to the icehouse. So far she’d managed to keep his presence from Cora and her aunt and uncle, but it was only a matter of time before one of them ventured to the barn.

Skirting the barn doors, Rose approached him, surprised to see him alert and lying on his back with one arm behind his head. He snapped his hazel eyes her way, giving her a start. A gentle smile curled his lips. “I did not mean to frighten you, Miss McGuire.”

“You didn’t frighten me.” Rose knelt beside him and lifted her chin. “I have brought you some stew.”

Gripping the wooden post of Liverpool’s empty stall, Mr. Reed lifted himself to a sitting position with minimal effort. Dark wavy hair grazed the collar of his white shirt—a shirt devoid of the waistcoat and cravat that would offer him a modicum of modesty. Instead, the garment hung open over a well-muscled chest. Rose cleared her throat as a heated blush rose up her neck.

“Your color has returned, Mr. Reed.” She kept her eyes on the ground as she handed him the steaming bowl.

“Indeed. I feel stronger every day.” The sound of his accent grated down her spine. Lifting the dish to his lips, he took a sip, then another and another as he hungrily devoured the stew. “Thank you. I realize that aiding the enemy does not bode well for you or your family.”

“No sir, it does not. And the sooner you are gone the better.”

“I assure you, I am of the same mind.” Dark eyes as deep and mysterious as the swirling water in Jones Falls River remained upon her. “Regardless that our countries are at war, I do not wish you or your family harm.”

Rose found no insincerity in his gaze. But that didn’t mean she could trust him. She lifted her chin. “Yet when you are well and return to your ship, you will continue to terrorize my friends and neighbors.”

Regret clouded his eyes. “I am a part of a war that I did not start nor chose to engage in, miss.” He stretched his shoulders, flexing the muscles in his chest.

Averting her gaze, she plucked fresh bandages, a knife, and a satchel from the pocket of her gown. “My aunt returns from Washington tomorrow. If you think you can walk, we should move you to the icehouse where you’ll be hidden.”

“Sounds rather cold.” He gave a mock tremble, followed by a grin.

Ignoring his playful demeanor, Rose pursed her lips. “We have not used it in years, Mr. Reed, but it’s down by the river and out of the way. Nobody goes there.”

He glanced over the barn, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “And with whom am I to share these chilled quarters? Pigs, chickens, rodents? Or perhaps a sheep or two?” A slight grin toyed upon his lips, but his tone held a hint of hauteur. “Will I at least have a bed?” He grabbed a handful of hay and flung it to the side. “Or do all Americans sleep in the straw?”

Rose grimaced.
Pompous bore
. “No sir. We reserve our barns strictly for odious beasts.”

He quirked a brow. Instead of the outrage she expected, amusement settled on his face. “Well, at least I know my place.”

“I doubt that, Mr. Reed, since you find yourself in my country instead of your own.”

He chuckled. “Indeed.” Yet the supercilious grin remained on his lips and something else—a flicker of admiration—crossed his eyes that made Rose’s stomach squirm.

She tore her gaze from him. He taunted her. Enjoyed taunting her. Rose glanced over her shoulder out the door. Oh where was Amelia? Rose shouldn’t be here alone with this man—this enemy who was twice her size and getting stronger by the minute.

Picking up the knife, she studied the bloodstained bandage wrapped around his leg. The hole she’d been forced to tear in his white breeches offered her a view of a thigh as thick and hard as a tree trunk. She’d never seen a man’s bare leg before—barely noticed the muscular tone of it during the harrowing moments when as she’d plucked the bullet out. But now the vision sent an odd sensation through her. Ignoring the feeling, she began to slice through the bandage. Her hand shook.

He touched her arm. She froze and met his gaze, her heart racing.

Releasing her, he shook his head, his eyes searching hers. “Do not fear me. I have no intention of doing you harm, Miss McGuire.”

“Yes you do, Mr. Reed. You intend to rob me of my freedom.” Rose continued her work, reminding herself that despite his attempt at kindness, Mr. Reed was her enemy. In fact,
because
of his kindness, Rose must never trust him. No doubt finding himself at her mercy, he merely attempted to worm into her graces for his own preservation. When he regained his full strength, she would use her uncle’s musket to encourage him to leave. She shuddered at the thought of holding the vile weapon. But she may have no choice.

“I did not mean to sound ungrateful.” He rubbed the thick stubble on his chin and eyed her. “Why do you not turn me in to your military?”

“You saved my life, Mr. Reed. How can I do any less for you?”

“War changes the rules of civility, Miss McGuire.”

She sliced through the bandage and began to peel it away. “Not for me, it doesn’t. Now stay still.”

Wishing Mr. Reed would stop talking to her, and in particular stop looking at her, Rose focused her attention on the task of removing the final bandage. She poked at the skin around his wound. No puffiness, no swelling or discoloring to indicate infection. Just firm muscle met her touch.

“Thank you for tending my injury.” Despite the British lilt, his deep voice soothed over her, untying her nerves.

“As I said, I was obligated to help you.” She forced spite in her tone.

“As I was to prevent Mr. Garrick from ravishing you.” A shiver coursed through her at the memory, and she lifted her eyes to his. “Then we are even, Mr. Reed. And when you are well and
are gone from here, we shall owe each other nothing more.”

But he didn’t seem to be listening to her. Instead his gaze focused on her neck, and a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “You have dirt on your …” He pointed toward her upper chest.

Looking down, Rose wiped a muddy smudge from the skin above her neckline then she scoured him with a sharp gaze. “And you are covered in dirt as well, Mr. Reed.”

He glanced down the length of his filthy uniform and chuckled. “Indeed.”

Amelia floated into the barn on a stiff breeze that fluttered the lacy trim of her lavender gown. She held a sack in one hand. “I’ve brought the clothes you requested, miss.” Her eyes trained on Mr. Reed while a coquettish grin danced over her lips.

Despite the woman’s flirtations, Rose released a sigh of relief at her presence. “Mr. Reed, may I present Mrs. Amelia Wilkins, my companion and lady’s maid.”

“My pleasure, Mrs. Wilkins.” Reed nodded toward her. “Forgive me if I do not get up.”

Amelia giggled. “No need, Mr. Reed. We are most happy that you did not die.”

“I share your enthusiasm.” Mr. Reed grinned revealing an unusually straight row of white teeth.

Reaching into her pocket, Rose opened a small pouch and spread saturated leaves over Mr. Reed’s wound.

“Poison?” He chuckled.

“Comfrey. To speed the healing process.” Giving him a lopsided smile, she wrapped a fresh bandage around his thigh. “So you can leave as soon as possible.” She tied it tight, eliciting a wince from him and bringing her a measure of satisfaction, albeit only momentary.

Stretching his leg, he gripped the wooden rail of Liverpool’s stall. “Then I will be happy to accommodate you, miss. Do you have a horse I may borrow?”

“Not one I’m willing to forfeit.”

“Why not lend him Valor?” Amelia glanced toward the filly’s stall where the horse stood watching the proceedings.

Rose gave her a measured look. “Who is to bring her back to me after Mr. Reed boards his ship?”

Amelia took a step toward Mr. Reed. “I will go with him and bring her back.”

“Don’t be a goose, Amelia. All alone? With British soldiers raiding the countryside?”

Mr. Reed’s brow gleamed with sweat as he strained to pull himself up. Leaning upon his good leg, he blinked as if trying to clear his head. “Miss McGuire is right. It isn’t safe for a woman alone.” He faced Rose. “A carriage perhaps? You could bring your footman for protection.”

Rose packed her bandages and salve and slowly stood. “You presume too much, Mr. Reed. Besides, both our carriages are in use.”

Mr. Reed’s breath came in spurts as he fell against the wooden railing. “I will walk then.”

“When you cannot even stand?” Rose took a timid step toward the man who if he were standing to his full height would surely tower over her by at least a foot. The last thing she needed was for him to fall and injure himself further. “It must be miles back to your ship.”

“And you’re in enemy territory, sir,” Amelia offered as she slipped beside Rose. “You’ll either open your wound and bleed to death or be caught and hanged.”

Mr. Reed peered at them both through half-open lids. Hot wind swirled about the barn, swaying a strand of his hair across his stubbled jaw. “Either way, ladies, I shall not impose on you any further.” He glanced down at the hay. “Now where, pray tell, have you placed my coat and weapons?”

Rose grimaced. She wondered when he would ask about them. Thank goodness she’d had Amelia store the heinous things in a trunk in the loft. “They are hidden, Mr. Reed. Out of your reach where you can do no harm with them.”

“Do you think me so base as to assault the woman who saved my life?” Incredulous pride saturated his tone. “Or to assault any woman for that matter. I am second lieutenant aboard the HMS
Undefeatable
, miss, an officer in His Majesty’s Navy and not without honor.”

“I believe your Mr. Garrick gave me a taste of your navy’s idea of honor,” Rose retorted, tossing her nose in the air.

Amelia fluttered her lashes. “You were so brave to come to Rose’s defense.”

“I could do no less.” His admiring gaze swept to Rose.

Confusion jumbled her thoughts and tore through her contempt. She took a step back.

He frowned. “Very well, I shall leave without my things.” Releasing the railing, he took a step forward on his good foot, but started to wobble.

Dashing toward him, Rose shoved her shoulder beneath his arm, gesturing Amelia to do the same on the other side. He smelled of hay and man, and she nearly toppled beneath his weight. Amelia gripped his other side and they managed to assist him out of the barn and across the field.

“Oh my, he’s quite heavy, miss.” Amelia exclaimed in wonder.

“My apologies, ladies.” His murmur came out weak as they led him step by painstaking step to the icehouse and propped him against the front wall.

Rose opened the door and a waft of cool, moist air tainted with mold blasted over her, refreshing her hot skin. She and Amelia assisted Mr. Reed inside and helped him down onto the bed of hay Rose had prepared earlier.

“I am not without compassion.” She sighed. “You may stay a few more days until you are well enough to walk.”

Mr. Reed propped himself up on his hands and studied the gloomy room.

Amelia handed her the bundle that had been slung across her free arm. “I’ve brought some of Samuel’s old clothes.”

Grabbing the sack, Rose tossed it at Mr. Reed’s feet. “You may want to change. If someone does find you, it would be better if you weren’t dressed like a British naval officer.”

“Thank you.” Mr. Reed nodded.

Rose glanced at the dreary walls, the empty space, anywhere but into his kind dark eyes. “I shall bring you some food and water later. There’s a bucket in the corner where you can relieve yourself.”

He wrinkled his nose, and a brief glimmer of repulsion crossed his face before he dipped his head in her direction. “I am completely at your mercy, Miss McGuire.”

“So it would seem.” Rose started to leave, confusion tumbling within her at his accommodating attitude.

“Why do you hold me with such scorn?” His indignant tone turned her around.

Rose threw back her shoulders. “As I said before, because you are attempting to rob me of my freedom, sir.” Sorrow weighed on her heart. “And because your countrymen murdered my family.”

His throat moved beneath a swallow, and he opened his mouth as if to say something but then quickly slammed it shut.

“And because of that”—retribution surged through Rose, tightening her voice—“you will keep hidden and behave yourself, Mr. Reed. Or mark my words, I will gladly turn you in to the American military where you will rot in prison until the end of the war.”

CHAPTER 5