Her words stung. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had the same thoughts himself. It would be foolish not to consider every option, especially with the Crown offering freedom to those slaves who deserted their Patriot masters and joined with them. But fighting for the colonists provided Elijah an opportunity for freedom, too, and he wouldn’t have to commit treason to get it.
“The Crown makes a tidy sum selling the likes of us, in addition to taxing the colonists for even breathing,” Elijah retorted. “Yet I suppose you imagine they’ll set you up with a house along the Thames when this ends. Now who’s daft?”
They simply stared at each other, the conversation having reached an impasse.
He shouldn’t have found her beautiful. She was rude, abrasive, and had insulted his intelligence. But his gaze was already fastened on her luscious mouth when it pulled up into a smirk.
“Many thanks for your offer of assistance, but, having tried slavery once, I find it’s not to my liking. I’ll be returning to the British camp, where at least I’m paid to be held in contempt,” she said.
“And I’ll be returning to my regiment, where I’ll fight for freedom for everyone, including those who turn their backs on their homeland,” Elijah retorted.
“This is not my homeland,” she said emphatically, her accent reinforcing her point. “But I wish you well in your endeavor…”
“Elijah,” he supplied. He didn’t know what compelled him. He would never see her again, but some part of him was adamant that she know him, if only in this small way. “Elijah Sutton.”
She nodded and stuffed the coin purse into a pocket in the lining of her cloak.
“Good evening to you, Elijah.”
She turned back in the direction she had come, just as a group of Redcoats emerged from the woods. Everything went still as the four soldiers took in the scene: Kate, who sparked recognition in their eyes; Elijah, who wore the uniform of the enemy; and the crumpled form of one of their officers on the ground. In a flash, three of the men were on him, wrestling him to the ground while the other turned over the body.
“It’s Trumbull! He’s killed Trumbull!”
Elijah grunted in protest as they pulled the dead man’s weapon from his back. His eyes flashed to Kate. All signs of the woman who gave cheek at every opportunity and could kill a man with one blow were gone. Her head was bowed demurely as she murmured, “It all happened so fast.”
“Why is the washwoman here?” one of the men holding him down asked.
“Good question,” Elijah said pointedly, and received a cuff to the ear for his trouble.
Kate’s eyes widened, gaze flying frantically from soldier to soldier.
“He—, I—,” she stammered, and then without the slightest warning she fell into a dead faint.
“Bloody hell,” one of the soldiers said. “Tie this one up. We’ll put him with the other prisoners. One of you pick her up. We’ll have to send some boys back for the body.”
As the men trussed him like game fowl, Elijah glared at Kate’s prone form. One eye fluttered open and then quickly squeezed shut when she saw him staring at her.
He growled in frustration. His mother had been right. Large heart, small brain, indeed.
Read the complete story, along with more stories of diversity and romance, in the historical romance anthology,
FOR LOVE & LIBERTY
: Untold Love Stories of the American Revolution
(June 2014).