The British Are Coming

Part 6: A Rascal and a Gentleman

"He's harmless enough.  Ever since Samuel died, his interest has turned....greater," you said with some unease.  Truth be told, the Colonel's advances towards you have become most uncomfortable.  You were grateful for his attention and care, but it soon became wearisome, as if you were expected to show the same in return.  A foolish woman, you were not.  You knew exactly what type of thanks he would welcome.

Thomas and you strolled along the path that led to the river, the same one that you carried his wounded body along, so many weeks ago.  It was incredible, his recovery.  He was in no shape to keep up with any sort of casual pace really, but his effort showed a resilience in him.  He seemed to want to get back to the soldier life, marching, and fighting and all that nonsense that you could never understand.  Your beloved Sam only served because he wanted to help.  It wasn't for any sense of duty to a crown or some doctrine.  He simply wanted to heal while others only destroyed.  You wondered if this soldier ever cared for anyone other than himself.

"Why did you hide me from him?" Thomas asked suddenly.  He stopped to look at you, watching your reaction reaction.  He was cunning like that, always studying you.  His eyes gave him away too many times.  On occasion, you thought him asleep as you checked in on him.  Then he'd give you a fright when you caught his stare from the corner of your eye.  He'd apologize for his deception, but it never felt genuine, because those eyes smiled with tremendous cheek.  It seemed in his boredom, he found some enjoyment in troubling you with his antics. But why did you feel the need to keep him a secret from the Colonel? He was one of his own after all.  You formed your words carefully.

"Any disruption in the visit would only lead to suspicion," you replied pragmatically.  You wished his eyes didn't bore into you so.  Their heat made the fabric of your gown seem far too warm.
"And any suspicions would lead to questions.  And I'm not quite sure I know the answers."

You gave a small nod as if to punctuate your explanation.  A loud click sounded as you swallowed the fluttering butterflies that seemed to consume your chest.  You hoped he wouldn't notice.  But he always noticed.

"You don't strike me as the kind of woman to be afraid of questions," that knowing smile touched his lips.  You remembered their taste, how soft and hungry they were.

"Maybe you were afraid he'd be jealous, hmm?" His eyes twinkled with provocation.

"That he'd question why your cheeks held such a rosy hue or why your breath seems ever labored when I'm nearby."

You rolled your eyes with a sigh and started walking without him.
"It's a wonder your neck isn't strained under that big head of yours," you called over your shoulder.

"Darling, you have no idea how big," he replied with a smirk.  You spun around, astonished.

"Some gentleman you are!" you exclaimed shocked, but a smile threatened to creep across your lips and although you did your damnedest, there was no hiding it.

Thomas approached you, delighted that he got a rise out of you.
"I can be a gentleman when it suits me, but something tells me you'd had enough of those, hmm?" His smile widened at you.

"Ha! You know nothing about me," your smile finally faded at his incessant arrogance.

"That's fair, I don't even know your name," he stated, stopping short of you. He rested his weight on his cane and intensely held your gaze while his continued.

"But I know that you bathe in lavender water- your scent haunts my dreams sometimes.  I know that you rarely take a drink and that you wring your hands together when you're vexed.  I know your eyes appear grey, but when they catch the sun, they look like the deepest blue only the likes that sailors and sirens have seen."

He glanced down and gave a quick lick of his lips before locking eyes with you again.
"And I know that kiss was not intended for a gentleman."

You wrung your hands together, gathering your wits. His eyes fell on them with amusement and you quickly stopped.

"Cora," you finally said, "My name is Cora."

Thomas nodded with a satisfied grin.

"Well, then Cora, would you let a gentlemen escort you home?"

He held his arm out.  You stared at him for a breath, then took it with a recklessness that you welcomed.

"You're a rascal," you said coyly.  He gave a little shrug but no argument was made.

"And aren't you just dying to find out how much."