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She had dressed in the blue-flowered gown that seemed to be the only decent thing she owned he
would have to see about getting her some new things, he realized and her hair was unbound, streaming
down her slender back in golden waves, heavy and bright in the morning sunlight that shone through the
high windows of the half-basement room. The thought crossed his mind that during his entire marriage, he
had never seen Jane with her hair unbound. She had worn it in a tidy roll during the day, covered with
modest caps, and in prim braids at night.
It would never have occurred to Jane to wander through the house with her hair loose, any more than she
would wander around naked. For that matter, he had never seen Jane naked. She changed her clothes in
private, and the times that she had submitted to her wifely duties, she had done so in her nightgown, in
complete darkness. Not like Hope.
"What are you thinking about?" Hope demanded, a knowing smile playing around her lips, as if she knew
full well what he had been thinking about.
He watched as she stepped around the room, her eyes wandering to the neatly arranged rows of awls
and hand drills, the shining saws in various shapes and sizes, the tidy piles of new wood, stacked
according to type and size. She stopped and ran her hands over a finished chair of deep mahogany,
touching the elaborately pierced and scrolled back, perfectly symmetrical and without flaw, ready to go
to the upholsterer's and be fitted with a seat.
She found his mark on the inside of the seat support, a neat SG, the letters intertwining, and ran her finger
over it. She lifted her head and smiled at him, her eyes bright with admiration. "Beautiful," she said.
Seth was surprised at how much her approval warmed him. He watched as she walked over to the other
finished pieces in the room, running her hands over a walnut sewing table, a black cherry sideboard, and
a matched set of chairs with more elaborate carving than he personally preferred.
Hope stopped in front of a wardrobe that stood against the far wall, and raised her brows at the massive
piece, the elaborate swags that festooned the edges of the doors.
The wealthy of the city liked their furniture to mimic the more traditional European designs, but Seth
loved the simpler, cleaner lines that the American craftsmen were leaning to. He was pleased to see that
Hope seemed to share his tastes.
"So, this is what you do when you're not being the James Bond of the American Revolution," Hope said
quietly, almost as if she was talking to herself.
Puzzled, Seth looked up from the mahogany drawer front on the table in front of him. "James Bond?
Should I know him?"
"No, and neither should I," Hope said with a light laugh. She tilted her head to the side, reading the titles
of the books that lined the shelf above his desk.
"The Gentleman's or Builder's Companion. Cabinet Maker's Guide. Designs for Chinese Buildings,
Furniture, Etc.& "
"Who taught you to read?" Seth asked, impressed by the ease with which she spoke. It was not
something he had expected, from a girl raised in such backward circumstances.
She looked up at him, startled and a little guilty.
"My mother," she said after a short pause, and the way she said it made him wonder if she was lying.
He decided to let it pass. "Did you sleep well? Have you eaten?"
"Yes and yes. We ate some sausage turnovers with Mrs. Avery in the kitchen, and she's taken Prudence
to the market with her. What are you working on?"
"A drawer front, for a secretary. I'd like to have it finished before I receive my next orders." He nodded
at the graceful piece, made in the clean, unbroken lines he favored. It stood against the wall, still
unvarnished, empty holes where the drawers would be. "You see, I'm working on the inlay now. I gave it
a lot of thought. Satinwood, in the shape of a sun. It's pleasant work. Careful, but pleasant."
Hope stood next to him, her shoulder touching his, and ran her fingers over the empty shape he had been
painstakingly carving out a half sun, its rays radiating from a half circle in graceful curves.
She smiled up at him. "I like it."
Had Jane ever noticed his work? Not that he could remember. He didn't think she had ever come into his
workshop. Hope's blue-green eyes were fastened on his face with admiration, and he actually felt a little
embarrassed.
"It's not really my design. I copied it, from the back of the chair General Washington uses when he's at
the State House. It's a fine piece of work."
"I'd like to see it finished."
"I would, too. I pray I might, before the British arrive. Then things will be mightily dangerous. I shall likely
have to leave the city."
Her face tensed, and she drew a deep breath. "And go where?"
"It depends on my orders. If I haven't received any notice by then, I'll report to General Washington."
Hope's face was tight, her fingers flexed with a nervous motion. "I'll miss you."
There was such sorrow in her voice that Seth was startled. "Miss me? I should think you would. But you
need not worry. You'll be safe enough here. I'll enjoy coming back to my pretty wife."
Her eyes widened, and she lifted her hand to touch his cheek. Even that simplest of gestures warmed his
blood.
"I can't marry you, Seth Goodwin."
She wouldn't meet his eyes, and he gave an impatient sigh. "Can't or won't? Come, Hope, be frank with
me. You give me your body, you say that you love me "
"I do! More than you can imagine!"
"Then I fail to see the reason for your refusal. It's simply not logical."
"Life isn't always logical, you know." She turned away, biting her lower lip, and he caught the gleam of
tears in her eyes.
"Hope, sweetheart& " He took her shoulders and pulled her back against him, holding her tightly against
his chest.
He dropped his mouth to the side of her neck and kissed her gently, breathing in the scent of freshly
washed skin. She sighed, a long sorrowful sound.
"What is it, Hope? That you were precontracted to Ephraim?"
"Ephraim who?" she asked, and her tone told him that she knew very well and would have just as soon
been contracted to a beetle.
He laughed softly and buried his face into her soft hair, nuzzling her neck until he felt her breath quicken
and her pulse race against his lips.
"Then why not "
"Oh, be quiet," she whispered, turning her face to his and rubbing her cheek against him. Her arms lifted
and slid around his neck. "I don't want to talk about it. Can't you think of anything else to do with your
mouth?"
Her lips moved over his, stilling any lukewarm protest he might have offered, and he found himself kissing
her until they were both mindless with the pleasure of it. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]