Chapter 15
Anna sighed and stretched, delighting in the sensuous ache in her limbs and the glow of pleasure still warm in her belly.
Hans shifted beside her, snoring softly, and Anna smiled at the rediscovered pleasure of a warm, heavy body beside her in the bed.
There had been far too many lonely nights over the last six years, and having Hans sleeping so sweetly beside her made Anna's heart sing.
Of course, Hans made other parts of Anna sing as well; while what she had missed most from her marriage was the constant companionship, she was certainly not going to deny that she missed the carnal pleasures, too.
And though inexperienced and a bit lacking in skill, Hans had been a willing and enthusiastic lover.
He needed no encouragement at all to extend their first coupling into two more during the night — ah, the zealous ardor of youth!
— and Anna had been more than satisfied with his performance.
Anna turned onto her side, her chin propped on her palm, and took in the sight of Hans' youthful body.
His hairless chest was broad, his belly flat.
The quilt that covered them after their exertions had shifted during the night, and now barely concealed his heavy member, half erect with what Anna hoped were pleasant dreams of their night together.
She ran a hand across his shoulders and down his flank, delighting in the firmness of his body, the warmth of his skin, and she smiled when she saw the shape beneath the quilt rise in playful response, even though Hans continued to sleep.
Anna was just debating where to plant a kiss to rouse her young prince — on his lips, or his chest, or perhaps lower ...
— when she heard a loud crash from outside and a shout.
Startled, she slipped from the bed and hurried to the window, crouching to peer through a gap in the shutter above the sill.
The icy rain that blew against the house all night had made the window into a crazed and distorting lens, even with the shutters in place, and Anna could only make out a few dark shapes against the drifts of snow outside.
There appeared to be people scurrying to and fro across the path that led to the pasture beyond the wooden gate, some on either side of the fence.
She saw a small flash of orange light beside one of the figures, shattered into a rainbow by the ice, and a puff of gray smoke; another crashing sound reached her ears.
Some of the figures rushed toward the house now, stumbling on the ice, and the shouts became more distinct: German voices, deep and gruff but tinged with panic, barked orders.
By the way the figures ran pell-mell toward the house, slipping and sliding on the ice, Anna suspected none of the orders were being obeyed.
"What is it?" came Hans' voice from the bed, still thick with sleep. "What's happening?"
"Nothing, Hans," Anna said, her voice a strained whisper. "Nothing — the storm, that's all. Go back to sleep."
When she looked over her shoulder, though, she saw that Hans was sitting up, pressing the sleep from his eyes with the heels of his hands.
The side of his face bore the pattern of the pillow's stitching in shallow red lines, and his flaxen hair sprouted from the top of his head in a dozen different directions.
She wanted to smooth his hair, run a finger along his cheek, and ease him back beneath the quilt.
She wanted to cover his strong, young body with her own and keep him away from the window, away from the shouting, away from the deadly storm gathering outside.
"No, Anna, something is happening," Hans said. He threw off the quilt and padded naked across the cold floor, then knelt beside her. His body was warm and firm, but seemed to tremble as he nudged her to the side and pressed his eye to the window.
"It's nothing, Hans," Anna said. She stood and gripped his hand, trying to pull him to his feet and draw him back to the bed. "Nothing that concerns you — that concerns us. Come back to bed, and we'll make love again — and again ..."
"That's ... that's my regiment," Hans said, his voice low and gasping. She watched his Adam's apple work up and down in concern, the muscles in his neck tensing. "Anna, that's ... I must ..."
"No, Hessian soldier!" Anna bellowed, yanking harder at his arm. "You must come back to bed now, right now, and make love to me again! I demand it!"
Hans struggled to his feet, pressing a hand against the cold window to steady himself.
He wrapped his arms around Anna, pulling her close; she pressed her head against his chest, heard the thunderous pounding of his heart, and when he kissed the top of her head, she thought sure that she had prevailed.
But then he held her back at arm's length, looking down at her with wide blue eyes that were swimming now with unspilt tears.
"I wish that I could go back to bed with you, Anna," Hans choked out through trembling lips, "but I must go to my regiment. My comrades —"
"No, Hans, no," Anna wailed, pushing against his stiff arms, trying to fold herself again into his embrace. "No, it's not your fight, it's not your duty! Stay with me! Stay with us!"
Hans made a strangled cry and pushed Anna backward. Her legs struck the bed, and she tumbled onto the quilt. By the time she was able to sit up again, he had already grabbed his breeches and shirt from the floor and was running to the door.
"Hans, no!" Anna cried. She struggled across the bed, nearly falling to the floor, and crawled after him. But it was too late: when she got to the door, he was already down the stairs, hopping awkwardly as he tried to pull up his breeches, and then sprinting toward the kitchen.
***
Sarah was already at the door leading out to the barn when Hans reached it.
She crouched by the doorframe in her flannel gown, a white bonnet pulled over her hair, and she peered through the crack at the figures rushing across the snow.
Hans recognized one of the sergeants in his regiment, a Berliner named Richard who had served with Rall in Austria and insisted on perfection in every drill.
His hat was askew now, though, and his blue woolen coat unbuttoned, and his movements were harried and uncertain.
When Sarah saw Hans behind her, she straightened and slammed the door shut, then leaned against it to block him from opening it. Her eyes were wide and wild, and her mouth was open in a silent cry.
"What is it, Sarah?" Hans demanded, trying to shoulder her aside. "What's happening outside?"
"Nothing, Hans, nothing! Go back, there's nothing you can do!"
He heard the crack of a musket, and another, and a strangled shout. With a roar, he pushed Sarah to the side and grasped for the door handle while she tried fruitlessly to arrest his hands.
"No, Hans, no!"
It was Anna's voice calling now as she ran toward the door, her thin shift tangled around her thighs.
She threw herself at Hans, but too late: he pushed the door open and tumbled out onto the icy path, his feet flying out from under him.
He landed with a thud, let out a curse, and struggled to his knees.
Hans saw his sergeant again, but he was lying in the snow, strangely still.
A bloom of red flowed slowly from the side of his head onto the white ground.
Another Hessian soldier tripped over the prone sergeant, musket flying free of his hand, and then scrambled on his hands and knees away from the fence.
More blue-coated Hessians followed, stumbling and staggering in heedless flight from the pasture.
When Hans lifted his eyes, he saw more figures moving across the pasture, dressed in a ragtag mixture of green, blue, and brown woolen coats, advancing at a steady pace.
As he watched, some of the figures stopped and knelt in the white snow, raised muskets to their shoulders, and let fly a volley toward the retreating Hessians.
"The enemy," Hans hissed under his breath, recalling the brief engagements on the road from New York that had sent the Hessian column scattering before the rebels faded back into the woods.
They weren't fading away now, though; the rebels advanced at a deliberate pace, sweeping the routed Hessians before them.
"Stand and fight!" a voice cried in German, and Hans turned to see Colonel Rall himself, brass buttons glinting in the pale morning light and saber held aloft, striding across the icy ground while his soldiers scattered before the advancing rebels. "Stand and fight, damn you all!"
Hans crawled across the ground, the ice cutting into his palms, and retrieved the musket that the soldier who tripped over the dying sergeant had dropped. The muzzle was empty, though, and Hans made his way toward the sergeant's body, hoping to find a cartridge pouch.
"Anna!" a woman's voice cried. "Sarah! Run to the cellar!"
Hans looked up and saw a horse and rider approaching, galloping madly across the pasture and past the rebel line. The rider wore the blue and buff of the Continentals, but was hatless, with long hair the color of summer wheat flying behind her.
"Gretchen ..." Hans gasped.
"Stand and fight!" he heard Rall shout again, and Hans turned to see Rall raising a pistol and then leveling the barrel at Gretchen as she charged toward him.