Once more she felt him breathe against her back. "Is it? When you admire the words, and hope to G.o.d that they are not merely pretty opinions, but a true philosophy of things to come? That not just America will create a land full of opportunity, but the whole globe will ignite in revolution? Well, I suppose it is sedition, isn't it?"

Erva twisted her neck to stare at Will. "Do you understand what you're saying?"

He smiled down at her. "I do."

She knew her eyes widened in alarm, because she couldn't believe he was revealing as much. "You're a complete radical."

He chuckled softly. "Radical, hmm. I think I might like that term. Shall I call you as much also?"

"I-me-" she huffed, watching him as he peered at the road before them, but every once in a while he'd smile down at her. She decided it was time to tell him as much as she could without blowing his mind. "Okay, where I come from, this kind of thought is normal, this radical thought. Aristocrats are a thing of the past, mostly. Although, we do have reality stars that seem to take their place."

"Reality stars?"

"Oh, um, people with fame, from where I come from, are called stars."

"And a reality star is one who is famous and real?"

"Actually, I'm not sure how real they are." She snickered.

"You're confusing me. But, what you're saying is that somewhere in Prussia there is a land of equality, true egalitarianism?"

The fact was Germany had made as many efforts as America to have the kind of society that Will spoke of. But she had been talking about her country in her time. She couldn't tell him that though.

"Well, where I come from tries to be a land where every human has rights, no matter the color of skin, gender, age, or religion."

"Utopia, it sounds like. Why haven't I heard more of this place?"

She was about to say that he would, in time he'd hear of it all. But he wouldn't. He would die in three days.

His dark brows furrowed. "What is it? You look troubled."

She shook her head as she looked forward. It was best to stay on course with her questions. "So you like the Declaration of Independence?"

He didn't answer. Erva turned her head again, glancing up at his handsome face. He nodded.

"You like the philosophy of it?"

Again, he nodded.

"You agree with it even?"

"Yes."

"You didn't vote for this war, but here you are."

"Here I am." He tugged her even closer to his warm, hard body, which, of course, made her forget her own name for a few seconds.

Finally, the clouds parted and she could think again, but only of his body. "What do you do to stay in shape?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean, you're really...muscular. How did you get to be that way?" G.o.d, she sounded like an idiot. What she'd wanted to ask was how a guy like him, an eighteenth century aristocrat, was so cut, so wide through the chest and shoulders, and had such a defined stomach that she remembered a little too well from this morning. The man was spectacular without a shirt, a slight dusting of chest hair and that little black strip under his bellyb.u.t.ton. Oh, how she wanted to explore that treasure map.

But she couldn't. d.a.m.n it, her body was in serious l.u.s.t with the man, and she had to get control somehow.

"I'm muscular? Is that good or not?"

She looked forward with a shrug, hoping to G.o.d she appeared nonchalant.

He leaned closer to her ear again. "Do you like muscular men, Erva?"

She refused to answer.

Then, shocking her, Will sucked her earlobe before biting her neck.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was breathy.

"I'm forcing you to answer me." He kissed and nibbled down her neck.

"Someone will see you."

"No eyes are upon us now." He suckled at a most tender area.

She moaned, but then bucked forward, rotating to glare over her shoulder at the naughty man. "Clever general, aren't you? But you haven't answered any of my questions. Why should I answer yours?"

He gave her leering smile. "Clever lady, shall we have a game of it then? Quid quo pro: I'll answer your questions, if you answer mine?"

Erva narrowed her eyes.

Will's smile widened, however, the grin faded soon enough. "I do believe America should have her independence." He pulled her close again.

She let him. As she studied the road ahead, she was in wonder of the man at her back. "Then, why are you here?"

"Ah-uh," he chuckled close to her ear again, then kissed it. "Now my turn. You've called me muscular. Do you like that?" He kissed his way down to that sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck.

"Yes," she responded too quickly.

He softly laughed again. "Do you like this?" He bit her skin tenderly, and she arched her neck for him.

Then she remembered herself and the man who was kissing her. She yanked away again. The horse began to trot, forcing Erva to cling to Will and the saddle horn. Easily enough Will pulled the reins and calmed the charger back into his easy walk. There was no need to swivel her head back to Will, because she'd fastened one arm around his neck. Blinking, she couldn't believe how close his freshly shaven face was.

"Why did you shave after I'd said...?" She wanted to just kick herself. She'd gone and blurted out so much already.

His fingers touched his cheek, as if making sure he'd shaved. He let his hand fall back to her waist.

"I didn't like how my beard roughened your beautiful face. I worried I was hurting you."

The way he'd called her beautiful set her stomach aflutter. "Even though I said to the contrary?"

He swallowed then nodded, looking only at the road. Suddenly, he seemed nervous, and Erva wondered about the change. This whole time he'd seemed so sure of himself, now he could hardly look her in the eyes.

"We're approaching the camp," he said roughly.

Her curiosity got the better of her. "Is that why you're so distant now? You don't want your men to get the wrong impression?" Her words came out more bitter than she'd intended, and the fear that he was a womanizer came back to haunt her, taunt her.

He looked deeply into her eyes. "Distant?" He sighed. "I suppose I am. But, Erva, I try to keep my eyes on the road before us, for if I don't, I'm afraid I will no longer act like a gentleman. I'm afraid I won't care who crowds around us, or how to perform my duties, and I'll..." He didn't finish his thought, but looked forward again. His jaw squared. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me?"

She shook her head.

He grinned although he kept his gaze on the road. "I have to act like a general now. Stop being the temptress you are."

She smacked his shoulder. "I'm not trying to tempt you, sir."

Shocking her for a second-or was it a third?-time, Will stole a quick kiss from her too responsive lips.

"I jest. I know you're not, Erva, which is even more desirous. You're a dangerous creature, Lady Ferguson, for you're only being yourself, and I find that utterly alluring. You make me feel-"

"General Hill!" a loud Scottish voice boomed. "And the Lady Ferguson, how pleasant to see both of you this morn."

Erva retracted her arm back to her side and tried to right herself in the saddle to appear as if she hadn't been making out with Will. She smiled as Will and Sergeant McDougal exchanged niceties, but she ached to know how she made Will feel.

So much for professionalism.

Chapter 13.

Watching Lady Ferguson handle a rifled musket was mayhap just as good as making love to her. All right, Will admitted to himself, he would prefer to make love, but for the moment taking in her enthusiasm about the helix-grooving inside the gun with as much fascination as most women would have for dress shops, was quite possibly the most erotic vision he'd ever seen.

The sun lit the campground, making the buildings and tents seem brighter, cleaner, better. Even Will's men seemed more jovial. Will couldn't help but accredit this to Erva. The Queen's Rangers surrounded her, delighting in her fancy at the rifle.

"Shoot for me," she ordered Captain Reynolds, handing him back his gun.

Lord, she should have been an officer. The men would do anything for her.

The captain nodded. "Of course, my lady, but," he glanced at Will, "I am not the shot that General Hill is. He is better than all of us."

Will wondered about the young captain's compliment. He'd thought that Reynolds had had contempt for him, for he'd often complain about being handicapped under Will's command. And it was true. Will chose multiple times not to use the Rangers, fearing an outright slaughter if he did employ the skilled soldiers against the Continentals.

Erva pivoted back towards Will. "You have a sniper's eye?"

He didn't respond, but after a moment couldn't help but smile at the beautiful lady and her arched brow.

"That he does, ma'am," Reynolds said. "He's the best shot I've ever seen."

Will bowed his head at the captain who reciprocated with his own. It was the most affectionate the p.r.i.c.kly captain had ever been, and it was best to receive the compliment with a reverenced gesture.

"Then you'll shoot for me." Erva grinned up at him.

The crowd of young soldiers surrounding them cheered.

Will sighed. "But we must train." And Lord, did they have to. He and his men were to take Manhattan from General George Washington and the Continental Army in two days' time.

How on earth was he to be a general when the lady was present? How was he going to continue?

Erva had changed his whole world, and he wasn't sure how to proceed. Or if he could. Perhaps it was silly of him, but he was toying with the idea of resigning and spending his days in the company of the lady. Aye, it was a bit much to hope for, but it felt d.a.m.ned good to hope once again.

Captain Reynolds extended his arm to Will, which being a rifleman himself, Will knew it was beyond respect when one man handed over his gun to the other.

"You honor me, Captain." Will took the musket and the crowd parted in the direction of the rounded dirt hill, where the men practiced shooting and Erva had destroyed a scarecrow just yesterday. "I suppose I'll have to back up?"

"Yes, General. I'd say walk back two hundred yards, sir," the Captain responded.

From his periphery Will caught Erva lift one light-colored brow. He wished he could kiss it. If he were married to her, he could.

The thought both exhilarated and stung. He'd believed Julia would forever haunt his heart. He'd a.s.sumed no one would turn his eye ever again, as well as he'd supposed no one should. Admitting to himself that he felt guilty beyond reproach about his wife's death was not difficult. For he knew that had he been more understanding, more compa.s.sionate, she would be alive. Or would she? It was what Julia's mother had screamed at him, yelling every insult, thrusting too many daggers into his self-incriminating soul for him to survive.

Yet he did. He kept waking every day with the stark realization that Julia was truly gone.

This morn was the first where he didn't think of his grief, his mistakes.

His first thought had been of Erva.

While walking on the dirt path with rifle in hand, Will considered how she had infected him with hope-there was that word again. But none other was more fitting. Erva had cast such a spell he began to believe again, believe in...love? Oh, there had been many a man who could fall in love in a day, but he never thought himself one. However, he had with Julia. Although their marriage had been pre-arranged, Will knew he could stop the understanding if he'd wanted. However, before he wed, he'd decided to introduce himself. Only without her mother, whom it was rumored was constantly around her. He wanted to know the dark-haired beauty on her own, since he knew he was most himself when alone. It took months to figure out how to track her, especially without her mother who acted more like a bodyguard than anything else, but finally he'd found her. Sitting in a garden during sunset outside a banquet where night jasmine exotically clung to the air, there she had been.

She'd spoken so excitedly about the flowers, not even caring to look up and see with whom it was she chatted. Will had seen many a pretty girl, but Julia was lovely beyond compare with her almost black hair, dark eyes and light skin that glowed in the scarlet light. She talked of myths of fairies who lived in the blossoms. Then she smiled up at him, and he knew he would love her, cherish her, and protect her until the day he died.

Finally at a good distance from his target Will pivoted, surprised the crowd of Rangers and Erva, whom the captain had taken by arm, had followed. He'd been in his own world with Julia for a moment, and, G.o.d, how it made him want to choke, but he could have sworn he saw her, pointing at Erva and tenderly waving. Yet, as always, when he tried to focus on the apparition, he realized it was just a shadow.

However, he couldn't neglect that Erva smelled of night jasmine.

Or was he was merely seeking signs, like some superst.i.tious fool, that his affections toward Erva were respectable, permissible, obtainable?

After loading the weapon he went down on one knee. He thought about his decision to come here and fight. Nay, that wasn't the truth of the reason why he'd come here, for he'd had a more purposeful goal. As soon as this ambition had entered his mind, he could have sworn he saw and heard his wife everywhere, warning him to stop his plans. She had been in windowpanes, at street corners, in his garden, and in his dreams. The visions of her in his reveries had been so painful he couldn't bear it. She'd screamed at him to desist; she'd hollered how life was too beautiful to pa.s.s by.

He glanced at Erva. Captain Reynolds might have had her arm and hand, but she looked only at Will. She smiled down at him. The grin was wide, carefree, and utterly gorgeous.

He took aim at a scarecrow. Inhaling, he knew now how right his wife had been-this life could be so beautiful. While holding his breath, he pulled the trigger. As he stood, he knew he had hit the target.

Seeing the redcoat army drill in earnest was startling. At the beginning of every semester, Erva discussed the myths of the American Revolution. One was that the British Army lacked backbone, another was that they didn't have sense enough to fight guerilla-style combat. Watching the redcoats take turn after turn bayonetting straw decoys and fire at pretend Continental soldiers was, well, frightening. They were formidable, well trained, and if Erva had been a Continental soldier she would have run if faced with the likes of the eighteenth-century Royal British Army.

All right, run might not be accurate, because she had been trained to handle combat. But her training had been with automatic weapons and grenades, something she felt might be the only thing to stop the redcoats. As much as she took pride in America's first army, one of the reasons they won independence was that they outnumbered the British when the French and then Spain and even the Dutch joined the war. Until then, the redcoats were supreme in the battlefield with very few exceptions.