Glimpse Time Travel: Enemy Of Mine Part 10

She finally glanced up at him, her amber eyes like the sun setting in a dark horizon. Will had noticed yesterday that her eyelashes were extraordinarily long, but being blonde they were hardly noticeable. However, with the early morning pale light cracking its way through the windows and her rosy candle, her eyelashes looked like two lovely wings over her brown eyes. By G.o.d, but she was beautiful.

"You usually would have a schedule, wouldn't you? If I weren't here?"

He slowly nodded, noticing and relishing the fact she had yet to release her hold on him.

"What would you normally do?" Her voice sounded husky.

"What we did yesterday. Since Admiral Howe and the Continental Congress have met, we are preparing for..." He rethought telling her about the soon-to-be battle. But he had wanted to tell her. It was odd, but he wanted to share everything with her. However, he was sworn to secrecy about the coming attack, so he said, "There is little for my men to do, other than our daily drills."

"And reconnaissance." After saying as much her eyes widened, alarmed.

He narrowed his own eyes, wondering...Lord, she could be spy. He wouldn't put it past the Continental Congress to send such a seductress into his fortress. They were surprisingly conniving and savvier than many British leaders gave them credit for. He'd met Benjamin Franklin once, at a salon in London, where he'd gotten to hear the American talk about science and reforming hospitals so everyone was granted a doctor. Franklin had spoken quite adamantly about having a public hospital, one that could specialize in mental disorders. It was whispered that Franklin's own nephew suffered from a brain disease, hence the push for a public hospital specializing in what was considered an affliction of the will, or even demonic beings playing havoc on a soul.

Knowing Julia as well as he did, Will never thought she suffered from a lack of desire to not have her visions, nor from any evil cause. She had been an angel. Well, before her visions bested her, she had been. But even when her hallucinations clawed through her, he'd seen her heart and knew her to be only sweet and wonderful.

"I shouldn't say such things, I suppose," Erva said, pulling Will back into the room with her, especially when her hand released him. "I'm too curious."

"I don't mind your curiosity." Although he should have. He should suspect her more, but he couldn't. Not when he stared down into her eyes, her hair long and loose and so intimate he ached to run his fingers through her tresses. "And, yes, I have daily reconnaissance against the Continental Army."

"Why are you-" She stopped herself again. This time she bit her lush bottom lip and looked away.

"Why am I what?" He should have let her question falter, but he had to know for himself if she were a spy or not. The more questions she asked, the more she would reveal herself.

The anomalous thought flittered through his mind though that he wasn't too sure if he cared if she were a spy or not.

She glanced back up at him, her eyes wide and timid. "Why are you here?"

That, he hadn't expected. A spy would wonder about his men, his drills, his arms, anything else that mattered to the war. Not a philosophical question about why he was here. But even the reason why he was here could be used against him, if court martialed. He hadn't realized that thus far. Then again, he'd thought he wouldn't have survived this long in the war. In his mind, he would have no reason to be court martialed. He wouldn't be alive for it.

She licked her lips and slightly shook her head. "I mean, you didn't vote for any of the acts the Americans protested. The newspapers said that you didn't support any kind of action against the Americans. You don't support this war, yet here you are. Why?"

"Why not?" He tried to deflect the conversation.

She narrowed her eyes, no longer looking sheepish but challenging, ruthless, and so lovely. He liked her best like this, shooting faster than most of his men, speaking of sedition to his superiors, the Howe brothers. Lord, how he liked it when her eyes caught fire and turned back into dark red-brown honey. His veins pumped his too hot blood through his body.

"Why not, hmm?" She gave him a wicked smile. "Why not, indeed. I think you don't want to be here."

"On the contrary, there is no other place I'd rather be."

She blinked, then caught his meaning that standing so close to her was exactly where he'd love to be. Arching a blonde brow, she said, "You know what I mean, obtuse man."

He silently chuckled at his new name.

"I think you don't want to be in this war."

He felt his own mirth leave his face. "You might be right."

"Then why are you here? Why do you fight? Especially so efficiently?"

"Do I?"

She growled, making Will grin again. "Quit evading the questions with your own."

"Why? This is fun."

She smacked one of his shoulders, then he caught her small hand in his.

"Is this fun for you too?" he asked, carefully gauging her reaction as he twined his fingers through hers.

She didn't look at their hands. Instead, her gaze was focused on his chest. He especially enjoyed that, as if she found him desirable. Lord, he hoped so, that he wasn't making a fool of himself.

She never answered, but looked up at him, her long lashes batting. He took hold of her candle and set it on a nearby table. In so doing he'd gotten that much closer to her, and just as he was thinking of holding her other hand, she reached up, probably on her toes, and kissed him.

This time he reacted immediately. His lips melded with hers. She tasted strongly of mint, and he licked the seam of her lips to enjoy. She opened for him, and he dove his tongue into her mouth. G.o.d, she was sweet. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he pulled her closer by holding onto her not-corseted waist. Next her tongue was inside his mouth, and he couldn't help but pull her even closer, her stomach against his, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s crushed against his chest.

Will felt Erva fiddle with the ribbon at the nape of his neck, and his hair was released from its hold. Instantly, her hands raked through his mane. It gave him silent permission to finally take hold of her tresses with one of his hands. Pure silk ran through his fingers. He loved her long hair, so wild and free this moment. Like the color of corn silk, Erva's locks were close to white with a light dandelion sheen. He fisted what he held, which tilted her head back, all the better to deepen the kiss. She moaned into his mouth. All his blood rushed south. That little noise was his undoing.

He kissed along her cheek, her delicate jaw, and nipped at her neck. She mewled again and arched more into him. He glanced at her visage, so wrapped in desire, her eyes closed, her lips swollen and dark.

"Oh, Erva, I should have shaved."

"What?"

"Your mouth...I should have shaved. I'm-"

"I like it."

He huffed, forcing himself to stop enough to hear her. "Pardon?"

"I like your whiskers. I like the way they feel against my neck. I like it."

He growled and kissed her again, loving her response, how she wrapped her arms even tighter around him, pulling at his hair. Knowing that she wasn't wearing her stays was driving him dangerously close to rushing things. He could feel her b.r.e.a.s.t.s without their confines, and it made his already engorged c.o.c.k even larger. It didn't help that his erection met Erva's stomach, and her breathing kept rubbing his p.e.n.i.s minutely. As he kissed down her neck, he thought of cupping one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He slipped his hand from her waist and slowly lifted his hand, until a knock sounded on the door.

The door swung open with Paul, holding a silver tray, instantly talking. "My lord, the papers today say something about Lady Ferguson-"

Will pulled said lady behind his aching body, trying to shield his man of business from seeing her scantily clad, even while knowing his tented breeches would make quite a sight. Paul stared over his shoulder, making Will realize he had seen her and had seen the kiss. Gads, he was standing there half naked while Paul just smirked.

"What about the papers, Mr. Miller?" Will hardly ever called Paul by his last name, but it seemed appropriate given the circ.u.mstances.

Paul cleared his throat, but couldn't rid himself of his grin. "Ah, yes, the papers write that the Lady Ferguson is quite talented with her song. Already, they give her the nickname of Fergie."

Erva released a loud giggle, then she gasped.

Paul glanced over Will's shoulder again.

She sighed, then stepped aside him. "Here, my lord, is that ribbon you asked for." She pointedly gave him the small black cord that had held his hair back, then stepped toward the door.

"Erva," Will called out, but he knew it would do no good. The moment, the magic was lost.

She pivoted her head, but then looked at Paul. "He wanted that ribbon. Insisted I give it to him."

Paul bowed. "Of course, my lady."

She tiptoed even farther away. Paul made room for her to pa.s.s, and just before she did, she glanced back at Will. "We'll go to your troops again today for the drills then a parade. Do you have another banquet to attend tonight?"

"He does," Paul answered.

"Then, we'll go to that too."

"But your ice," Will said.

Erva nodded. "I'll see to it myself this morning, but we'll have to come back here-" she paused and swallowed, "-to do it again later."

"Yes," he could only offer. His voice had gotten raspy with need.

With one last look, Erva licked her lips, then hobbled away. Will sighed. Good Lord, to have her in his arms was...Well, nothing had felt more sure, more right. He wished he could hang onto her lips for the next eternity. Turning toward his man of business, he, for the first time, glared in frustration.

Paul closed the door, then set down the tray. Taking three steps closer, he punched Will in the shoulder and laughed. "You son of a-"

"It's not what you think."

"Not what I think? What are you saying, man? You seduced her, did you not? And here you had asked for help in that endeavor."

Will shook his head. "It was just a kiss."

"Then why are the both of you dressed so? Or should I say not dressed so?"

"She-she let herself into my room this morning."

"And you just kissed?"

Will nodded and looked at the door with longing.

"Ah, well, still, that's making headway, is it not?"

Will looked at Paul and snorted while he shrugged.

"It is. And I've procured a way to make even more headway."

"Oh?"

Paul gave him a slanted smile. "With all your carriage problems as of late, I've ensured you ride a horse for the day."

"Horses?"

"No, I said a horse. You'll be riding together. Very close. Very intimate."

Lord! Erva's pert little backside pressed against his groin, that sounded devilishly closer to disaster than anything else. "I don't think my body could take it."

"I think it will. At least give it a try."

Will sighed as he felt his c.o.c.k tingle in antic.i.p.ation. Still, he nodded. "Please tell the maids to inform the lady to wear a riding habit then."

Paul gave him another wicked grin. "You'll see, the lady will think it very romantic, and before you know it-"

Will held his hand up to halt Paul's prediction. G.o.d, he could only hope that Erva found him romantic, then...How had hope suddenly appeared, he knew not. But there it was, settling in his chest like a bird. He just hoped the d.a.m.ned thing wouldn't fly away as it had in the past.

Chapter 12.

Okay, it was time to be professional, Erva reminded herself, as she sat altogether too close to Will on a large horse. Being on the Clydesdale-like steed, she got to see Brooklyn very well. The sight of the small buildings-well, small compared to what would be in a couple centuries-and the unpaved roads were incredible as they rode along Front Street. However, even with taking in all she could see, the sensation of his morning whiskers against her face was hard to forget. G.o.d, she'd nearly shoved the man on his bed and stripped him down. She was glad Paul had interrupted, glad she'd gone back to her room, and had had a few moments to think about what she was doing.

She'd kissed him. Again, for crying out loud. She'd gone into his room simply to find out the day's schedule, but seeing him in only his breeches had gotten to her. Well, to her body. She'd reacted before she could think. What was it about the man that kept making her attack him with kisses?

He shifted in the saddle again, as he'd done several times, reminding her of his hold on her waist, and his other arm wrapped around her to hold the reins. Sure, she'd fired off many a gun, especially eighteenth-century muskets, but ride a horse? Not really. Well, she had once, but that in no way made her an expert. Now, she sat sidesaddle because her dress, which was supposedly made for riding, wouldn't let her sit any other way. Further, she'd had to have a silly little hat pinned to her giant hair. Erva thought that '70s country singers would have been proud and envious of how huge her tresses were today. The maids had really outdone themselves. But brushing it out would have to wait until the day was done. For now she clutched onto the saddle horn with all her might, and leaned into Will, hoping his st.u.r.dy frame might offer her more balance and support.

It did, of course. He was again dressed in his red uniform with white breeches and black leather boots, which were ruining Erva's determination to remain aloof and professional. G.o.d, those boots were s.e.xy. No, the breeches were s.e.xier. Actually, it was the man who was the s.e.xiest.

However, it was time to ask the millions of questions she always wanted to know. It was time to try to think more clearly. And there were many reasons why she had to. As much as Clio and Erato had urged her to let loose her desire regarding Will, the man had not one, but two mistresses. She couldn't let herself forget that. Also, he would die in exactly three days.

She leaned more into Will with that thought, feeling his warmth and strength at her back. G.o.d, how it would hurt to get to know him better, begin to care even more about him, always knowing he would die.

But he had mistresses! She reminded herself-again!-of that fact. Her ex-husband was more than enough proof that men did cheat and could think that love and s.e.x were synonymous with casual encounters. Besides, as her mother had kept repeating, her father had supposedly cheated too. She'd always had a hard time swallowing that, but her mother insisted, saying Erva had to grow up and see reality for what it was. Men hurt women, and that's the way it went and would go until the end of time.

Erva hated how much she agreed with her mother's philosophy. But reminding herself of it would help her gain more clarity when she was around Will, whom she wanted more than any man she'd ever encountered. And how messed up was that? To want a man so much who was a womanizer. She should go back to therapy when she returned to her time.

"Is your knee well whilst we ride?" Will's deep voice hummed in her ear, turning into liquid gold that strummed her body hot instantly.

She nodded. Clio had packed some ibuprofen with her things, and she'd taken a couple pills after this morning's tryst with Will. It had helped with the swelling in her knee, but not her heart. Pathetic, she told herself, it was simply pathetic what she felt for the man.

Time to keep things professional once and for all by dropping a bomb of a conversation.

"So, Will, how do you feel about America's independence?"

He took a sharp inhale, tightening his grip on her waist. But, while exhaling his hand adjusted, pulling her slightly closer to him. "I think," he whispered in her ear, "that you and I are alike in thought regarding America's independence."

"You know what I think, do you? I sincerely doubt that."

"You relish the Declaration of Independence. You love the words written. You read a few of the lines over and over again while your eyes mist with sentiment." His lips caressed her ear, then he said, his voice so low, "Am I wrong?"

At that Erva began to panic. She had a plan to keep her distance, but he was breaking through all her barricades. Not only with his sensual whisper, but just the d.a.m.ned words he said couldn't be more right, perfect.

She had to stop this. "What you speak of is sedition."