Chapter 13 Testing Boundaries
Chapter Thirteen
Testing Boundaries
Clara endured a full week of negligence and subpar conditions, or at least, subpar compared to what she was accustomed.
Meals were delivered by surly, not to mention rude men with clear disdain toward her political leanings, and to her great displeasure, she was always left alone with one of these clotpoles keeping guard.
On top of bland, and sometimes nonexistent, meals, a lack of privacy, and overall discomfort, one notable change was Benjamin kept his word.
Not once did he set foot into that barn, and it bothered Clara that she was disappointed.
Even after everything he’d done, she still held an inkling of affection for him.
He was a patriot, a liar, and didn’t deserve one ounce of her sympathies.
“Rebel scum,” she muttered.
That was when the door opened. Looking up, Clara groaned when Oliver stepped in with her tray. He dismissed the guard on duty, then approached with a chipper swagger.
“Good morning!” he chirped.
“I am not speaking to you,” Clara spat.
“Truly? Because you’re speaking right now.” When she shot him a withering glare, Oliver chuckled and set the tray alongside her. “Why are you being so sour? Things are going well!”
“For you, maybe,” she hissed. “For days, I haven’t heard a single word from you, Major. What’s going on?”
“So good of you to ask!” Gesturing to the tray, he encouraged, “Eat. Drink. You’ll need your strength for what I’m about to ask of you.”
Skeptical, Clara pulled the tray into her lap. “What are you proposing?”
“I’m not proposing anything. I am telling you to get friendly with Captain Hoskin.”
Choking on the sour ale she’d sipped, she placed a hand over her heart and shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.”
“But Miss Boyd—”
“Do you truly expect me to behave as though we’re friends after everything he’s done? You are mad, Major! Even if I agreed, the captain isn’t stupid. He’d grow suspicious, were I to suddenly welcome him with open arms!”
Oliver sighed. “You make a fair point… However, it’s been a sennight without seeing one another. And if you were as fond of him, as he clearly is of you, he might be hopeful enough to believe it.”
Clara blinked at him. “Fond of me? How do you mean? Has he said something to give this impression?”
Oliver grinned. “My, my! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you actually sounded eager.”
Scowling, she looked away and picked at her bread. “I’m just curious, is all. I need to assess his temperament before I enact my so-called groveling.”
“Whatever you say.” Catching her lip curl, he commanded, “Eat your fill. I’ll send word that you wish to speak with Hoskin. The minute he receives my message, I’m sure he’ll come tripping over here like the mealy-mouthed, lovelorn puppy he is.”
In spite of herself, Clara flushed. “Two people can be friendly without romantic aspirations. Why, I have zero interest in your dog-like appearance, so I think I make a fair and valid point.”
Oliver’s chin tensed. “You wound me, Miss Boyd.”
“And I’ll gladly do so again, you cad. Perhaps if you actually saw to it that I was treated like a lady, I’d be far more ingratiated.”
“I’m working on it.”
“So you’ve said!”
“Look, my dear, you are not nearly as important to the rebels as you are the elite,” he said. “This is war. You won’t see anyone tripping over themselves to save an attractive girl with bleating lungs.”
Holding her bread, Clara sneered. “Weren’t you just going, Major? I prefer not to eat when men, or rather, things, that churn my stomach are present.”
Oliver offered a stiff bow, then left her to her racing thoughts.
Regrettably, Oliver wasn’t far off in his assumptions. It barely took an hour before Benjamin was pushing open the door, his face such a sickening mask of hope that she immediately looked away.
“Good morning, Miss Boyd,” he greeted. “You asked to see me?”
Clara drew her knees toward her chest and shrugged. “I was bored, yes. It gets tiresome seeing the same three chubs day in and day out.”
Though she was supposed to be friendly, it seemed unwise to behave as though she’d missed him. Benjamin was no fool. Bored indifference, she decided, was her best tactic.
With his eyes cutting toward the guard on duty, Benjamin nodded to the man, indicating that he was relieved of his post. The soldier left without so much as a questioning look.
Once they were alone, Benjamin stepped forward and appraised Clara with genuine concern. “How are you faring?”
“‘Endure it, heart! Thou didst bear worse than this,’” Clara quoted, her intonation filled with mocking zeal.
Benjamin’s brow creased. “I’m sorry?”
“The Odyssey,” she explained. “You’ve read it, have you not?” Without waiting for a reply, Clara continued on, “I’m rather partial to that quote as of late. I’m not so certain I have borne worse than this, but I’ll manage.”
Clearing his throat, Benjamin fidgeted beneath her gaze. “I recall it, yes… Though lately, I’ve been reading the copy of Hamlet you gave me.”
Clara scoffed. “Why? You don’t actually believe we’ll be continuing our lessons, do you? Now that you’re no longer Charlotte’s betrothed, that offer is completely off the table.”
Benjamin burned a brilliant shade of scarlet. “N-no, uh…of course not. I just thought you’d be happy to hear I’ve taken your advice to heart.”
“Yes, well if only you’d taken my love of honesty to heart, as well,” she groused.
Benjamin ducked his eyes, ruefully shaking his head. “I apologized,” he reminded her. “I promise you, I will always be sorry for what I’ve done.”
“Not sorry enough, apparently.” Folding her hands, Clara lifted her arms. “You could at least unshackle me while we’re talking. I am a lady, not some common criminal.”
Benjamin glanced around them, torn. “I’m not supposed to.”
She scoffed. “Who says? You’re some fancy captain, are you not? Aren’t you the one telling everyone else what to do?”
“Within reason,” he snapped. “You’re a prisoner of war and must be treated accordingly.”
“In what way? Being caged like a common animal?” Eyes alight with fury, Clara hissed, “I’ve done nothing to you, Captain Hoskin. Nothing! And yet you persist in punishing me for the sins of my father. I don’t care about this horrid war! I just want it to be over!”
Regret colored Benjamin’s face and he frowned, rubbing his fingers together in a nervous tic. “I know you must think me cruel, but—”
“I don’t think you cruel,” she cut in. “Which is precisely why I am asking, nay, begging you, to treat me like a human being.” Clara’s eyes grew wet, and she held out her hands to him. “Please, Ben. My shackles are chafing my wrists.”
A seedling of hope bloomed within Benjamin’s chest and he swallowed, curious as to why she’d addressed him as a familiar. Did she consider them friends again?
Avoiding her gaze, Benjamin knelt and retrieved the key from his pocket. Keeping his eyes focused on the task at hand, he unfastened her manacles and freed Clara’s wrists. A stab of guilt throbbed between his ribs once he brushed his thumb over the red, angry-looking abrasions on her skin.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Against his better judgment, Benjamin stooped to press an apologetic kiss to her inner wrist, his pulse thrumming once her fingertips brushed the expanse of his jawline in a slow, careful caress. Did she forgive him? Did she still hate him?
Lifting his head, Benjamin tried to speak, but his words were devoured by the harsh press of Clara’s mouth. She was passionate in her movements, painful almost, and when she snagged her fingers through his hair and yanked, he melted into her touch and kissed her back with equal enthusiasm.
Both of Clara’s hands moved to his lapels, and then she was dragging him down over top of her. While their tongues tangled, she wrapped a leg around his waist and started grinding into his growing arousal. A muffled cry caught in his throat each time she bucked against him just right.
Dizzy from sensation, Benjamin pressed his mouth strongly into hers and cupped her face, his own hips rolling downward as she bit back a gasp.
Her soft sounds made his breeches tighten.
Impatient, Benjamin tugged her petticoats up over her legs, their kiss wet and needy and escalating in aggression as he increased the incessant rocking between her thighs.
That was when he felt it: a knuckle of pain in his sternum, stabbing and white-hot, followed by Clara’s knee to his groin. Benjamin yelped and barely resisted once she shoved him aside.
A look of disgust bled across her face as he reached for her, and she struck his hand in revulsion. “Do not touch me,” she seethed.
Benjamin tried to get to his feet, but in his present predicament, Clara was much faster.
Scrambling upright, Clara raced toward the barn door and ripped it open with shaking, eager fingers. Sunlight assaulted her senses, but she didn’t recoil. No, she rejoiced in the discomfort, an unshakable grin touching her lips as she dashed into the campgrounds.
While she darted through the grassy, tent-filled area, avoiding milling and drilling soldiers alike, nobody paid her any mind. Or at least, nobody did until a surprised Amos McQuinn was there to cut her off.
Equally astonished, Clara skidded to a halt. “You,” she growled. “You’re the miserable cur who tried to kill me!”
In a rage, she turned toward a campfire and snatched an unmanned musket. Clumsily, she whipped it in Amos’s direction, praying the weapon was loaded.
“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Amos coaxed, “steady now, Miss. I really don’t think y’wanna do that.”
“Why not?” Clara spat. “You’ve deprived me of my every freedom, so I will be more than happy to deprive you of yours!”
Cocking the hammer, she gave a start once Benjamin caught her elbow and jerked her back against him. He ripped the musket free from her hands and immediately disarmed her.
“You rebel scum,” she seethed, bucking against him. “You…you treasonous hob!”
Amos snorted. “Ah. Well, now I see why she’s found such a deep place in your heart, Moony-boy.”
Ignoring him, Benjamin set aside the musket and took Clara’s shoulders. “Miss Boyd, I know you have no reason to trust, nor even listen to me, but you’ve just needlessly endangered yourself.”
Clara scoffed. “Well! Acquainting myself with you was surely the start of that!”
Frustrated, Benjamin tightened his hold.
“Please listen!” he begged. “Now that you’ve exposed yourself to the camp, none of whom knew you existed prior to this moment, might I add, you’ve brought yourself into potential contempt.
You stand out far too much in that gown, so we need to get you some new clothes.
” Gaze soft and pleading, he explained, “A Tory, and most especially one of the elite, is bound to be of interest to a vengeful patriot.”
Upper lip curling, Clara glanced around them and decided that yes, he unfortunately was correct. She was the only one dressed for high society. Everyone else looked as if they’d taken a roll through the dirt. Eyes narrowing, she proposed, “If you wish to protect me, you should let me go.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
Sending her sharp glare in Amos’s direction, she amended, “Then at the very least, keep him away from me.”
“I’ll see to it,” Benjamin promised, sparing his friend an apologetic glance. “For now, please come with me. We’ll discuss what to do once we’re safely back in the stockade.”
As Clara was escorted in the direction she’d fled, neither took notice of the defector, Elijah Brooks, sour and calculating as he watched them from a nearby tent.