The Bootmaker's Daughter_Revolution by Colleen French

Author:Colleen French [French, Colleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Evan Marshall Agency
Published: 2019-06-02T04:00:00+00:00

With the first golden rays of daylight, Grayson was up and out of the safety of the fort. Barefoot, he walked down to the river and knelt to bathe his face. Throwing Maggie's flintlock rifle onto his shoulder, he stood and stretched, staring out at the sparkling blue water of the York River. He watched as a gray-and-white sea gull dove out of the sky and skimmed the surface of the water in search of food.

Grayson had to get to Williamsburg. There this true identity business could be all straightened out, at least with the Yorktown rebels. With proper documentation from his patriot commanding officer, he would be able to prove to Ezekial Barnes and his men that he was indeed on their side, thus absolving Maggie of any wrongdoing. But as for his position amidst the British, Grayson wasn't certain where he stood. How the hell was he going to get back in now?

Of course there was no question in his mind as to whether or not he was going back in, it was simply a matter of how. He'd made a mistake, a grievous error back at that tavern, but that was all the more reason why he had to get back in among the Brits. He had to prove to his commanding officer, to Sterling, to himself that he could still do his job.

But what of Maggie? She was so damned hardheaded that even after all he'd said last night, she still refused to believe he wasn't the enemy. The proof, of course, lay in Williamsburg. But she said she wasn't going to Williamsburg. She said something about going north, far from Yorktown where no one would ever find her. Of course Grayson knew he couldn't let her go. She was the best thing that ever happened to him!

Well, Maggie would just have to go to Williamsburg, wouldn't she?

"Grayson?"

He turned from the river to see Maggie standing naked in the early-morning light. She held up her skirt to cover her lithe form, but the bit of wrinkled green quilting did nothing but make her appear even more desirable.

"Grayson, what are you doing out there? This beach is patroled!"

"Just went by," he answered, pointing south.

Maggie's gaze went to her flintlock pistol tucked into the waistband of his breeches and to her rifle he carried over his shoulder, attached by a shoulder strap. "You took my weapons," she pointed out. "I want them back."

He lifted a blond eyebrow. "So you can shoot me in the back?"

"I'm not going to shoot you. At least not unless you try to do something foolish."

"Like flag down the Brit patrol?" he asked, using Captain Thayer's arrogant tone.

She crossed her bare arms over her chest, pinning the green skirting tight around her waist. "Somethin' like that."

"Maggie . . ." He looked away and then straight back at her. "What do I have to say to convince you I'm not Captain Thayer of the king's army?"

"You're not Grayson Thayer?" Her jaw tightened as the memories of last night's lovemaking slipped away.

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