Love & War (Alex & Eliza #2)(14)
Eliza stepped back, and Alex was left clutching empty air. “It is not your apology I want Alex,” she said. “I want you safe and whole.”
Alex’s eyes dropped.
“I understand you feel you have to do what you think is best,” said Eliza as her eyes filled with tears. She batted them away angrily. “But why risk your life if you don’t have to?”
“Because I love this country!” Alex replied immediately. “And because other men are risking their lives. What kind of man would I be if I was content to send others to the front lines while I took shelter in the general’s tent?”
“You would be a man who came home to his wife!” Eliza cried. “You would be a man who could help his country in ways that others cannot. You have the mind of a philosopher, a political scientist, an economist! The United States will need men who possess all of these rare gifts if it wants to survive the transition from colony to country.”
Alex reluctantly shook his head at his wife. “Though the Creator has blessed me with a reasoning greater than the average man, a sharp mind does not free one from corporal responsibilities—of putting his body on the line when the circumstances demand it. They say that the pen is mightier than the sword, but that is not true on the battlefield. For a few days, I will put down my quill and take up my blade like every other man, and on the other side of the battle I will be able to say that I risked my blood for my country like every other patriotic American.”
“You see!” Eliza said. “It is not just that you feel a sense of responsibility. You want the glory of being a war hero, just like Clinton said!”
Alex’s eyes went wide. “You would use that boor’s words against me?”
“I would say anything if I thought it would get you home to me safely!” she said passionately. “Anything at all,” she said more softly now.
“But would you respect me when I returned?”
Eliza’s eyes flashed angrily. “How much did you respect me when you sought a battlefield command and didn’t bother to inform me? You think being called out by Governor Clinton is bad? Try learning from him in front of a roomful of family and friends that your husband thinks so little of you that he decides to risk his life without even telling you!”
Alex couldn’t help but smile, though it was a sad, chagrined expression. “So, we both have ulterior motives. I want a bit of glory, and you want a husband who treats you as a partner.” He shrugged. “It appears war and marriage are both more complicated than we realized.”
“And often hard to tell apart!” Eliza quipped.
“Listen to me, my dearest,” Alex said then, catching Eliza’s hand in his and placing it against his cheek. “I promise that I will return to carry you across the threshold of your new home like a proper bride. To Philadelphia, perhaps, where you shall entertain the ambassadors of foreign nations, or New York City, where we will establish ourselves in one of the grand new town houses on Wall Street. You shall be the doyenne of society, and I shall be the most brilliant politician and lawyer this young country has yet seen. And who knows, perhaps one day I’ll run for governor, and chase that windbag out of office.”
“Governor Clinton is harmless, you men just don’t know how to handle him,” Eliza said in a softer tone. “But you’d better come home,” she continued. “If you don’t, I will hunt you down and run you through myself.”
They embraced then, for the first time in two days, and kissed each other—softly at first, and then urgently, so there was no question of the love between them. Alex buried his head in her neck, inhaling her sweet scent, wanting nothing more than to prolong the moment, but it was Eliza who pulled away first.
“Don’t,” she said when he stepped forward for one more kiss. “If I put my arms around you again, I do not think I will be able to let go, and I want to be brave for you.”
And, blinking back tears, Eliza turned as quickly as she could so Alex wouldn’t have to see her cry.
* * *
ALEX PASSED THE last hour of the journey penning a letter to Eliza—a thousand times “I’m sorry” and a thousand more “I love you”—hoping that she would forgive him, and only when he was done did he try to put his wife out of his mind and concentrate on the looming war.
The rain had ended by the time they reached Newburgh. Low hills crowded right to the river, with a small port built largely of reddish-brown bricks and, higher up, a bustling village of handsome brick and frame houses, with here and there an older building made of rough stone pieces joined by thick welts of mortar. A few cook fires burned, sending gray ribbons of smoke into the air, where they mixed with the wet blanket of mist that persisted after the rain. The mist was so heavy that Alex sweated uncomfortably in his heavy uniform. Still, it was better than being trapped aboard the fur ship with its fetid cargo. Alex strode onto dry—well, solid—land purposefully, eager to get to General Washington’s headquarters and find out whether his request for a command had been granted.
The first thing he saw was a chestnut stallion tied up at the edge of the broad wharf that abutted the pier. Its coat was the color of caramelized butter, its mane and tail so light they were almost golden. The animal was so fine that Alex was tempted to call it pretty, and yet it was no delicate creature. It must have been sixteen hands high and thickly muscled, and even as it waited, it had an air of martial readiness about it. This was no city horse or buggy puller, let alone a palfrey. This stallion looked like it could handle the stresses of the battlefield and finish off any enemy soldiers its rider failed to dispatch.