The Colonel's Lady by Laura Frantz Read Free Book Online Page A

west?”
    Sent. It had an ominous sound, particularly for an officer. “Nay.”
    “Or that he drives his men unmercifully?”
    “Nay.”
    “Or that he holds a court-martial nearly every day?”
    “Nay.”
    “Or that he can curse in three languages?”
    “Three?” Roxanna raised an eyebrow. “One should be sufficient.”
    Bella cracked a smile. “Gaelic, French, and King’s English—in case you’re wonderin’. ”
    “He’s not a God-fearing Irishman, then?”
    “Humph!” Bella rolled her eyes. “He don’t fear nothin’. Awful arrogant he is. Browbeats his men somethin’ awful—and he’s a gentleman besides!” She paused in her tirade and stared into her steaming cup. “But they nearly worship him, God forgive ’em, though I don’t know why.”
    Roxanna sipped her tea and tried to tamp down her curiosity—and another maxim that rushed to mind. Speak not evil of the absent, for it is unjust. Squelching it, she simply savored her sassafras and said nothing, cowing Bella into a short-lived silence.
    Shifting in her chair, Bella expelled a ragged breath. “All I’ll say is this—Colonel McLinn used to be one o’ General Washington’s favorite officers, one o’ them Life Guards, watchin’ over the general and all for his protection. Till McLinn got in a roarin’ red rage ’bout somethin’ and Washington sent him west.”
    Though her ears were burning, Roxanna remained silent.
    Bella leaned forward conspiratorially. “You sure yo’ pa ain’t said nothin’ ’bout this?”
    “Nary a word.”
    She sighed. “Well, I wish to heaven he had cuz I’m just about eat up with not knowin’. ”
    Roxanna leaned over to hide a smile and tucked her knitting into the basket at her feet. “So I gather Colonel McLinn is an extraordinarily handsome Irishman who manages to be quite charming when master of his temper.”
    “Did I mention he’s malarial?”
    “Nay, to your credit.”
    “Well, once in a while he gets real sick and takes to his bed. He ain’t easy to nurse neither. I’ve tried my hand at it a time or two. I’d rather wash his shirts and breeches any day.”
    “Does he not have a personal physician?”
    “That’d be the post surgeon, Dr. Wilbur. But he up and died last spring.” Sighing, Bella stood and shuffled toward the door. “Somethin’ tells me I ain’t gonna get to sit here takin’ tea with you much longer. The colonel’s gonna come round the bend with all his men just in time for Christmas like he promised. I’d best go on to bed. Guess I’ll be dreamin’ about roast goose and plum puddin’ when I do.”
    Roxanna’s eyes flew to the crude calendar on the cabin wall. Five more days. Tears of joy and anticipation made the numerals a wash of black. ’Twould be the first Christmas with her father in years. He’d simply not had leave since then.
    When Bella went out, Roxanna knelt by the trunk that held all her earthly possessions and opened the lid. Inside was the pocket watch she’d purchased upon leaving Virginia, the fine silver chain shining richly in the hearth light. Papa had lost his during the last campaign, he’d written, or had it stolen, as was so often the case. She turned it over, seeing the fine engraving on the back—her initials and the date of Christmas 1779. Lying under this was her best Sabbath dress, the heavy corded linen finely embroidered with flowers that mirrored the blue of her eyes. A straw hat with a clump of forget-me-nots on the brim lay alongside the dress and reminded her of spring and long walks and . . . him. An unwelcome memory rose up as strongly as the lavender sachet within . . .
    “Come, Miss Rowan, and walk out with me.”
    The smooth masculine voice unnerved her, perhaps because he’d been away for so long. She looked up from her damask roses, senses swimming from their sweetness, and felt a flicker of disquiet. Aware that her mother watched from a window, she set her clippers and basket aside and took the arm Ambrose