War of Hearts, A Historical Romance by Lynn Hubbard

for hours on end,” Sarah said. He chuckled with a nod. She
couldn’t help but feel bitter as these soldiers drenched in finery
were plotting to destroy her country.
    She was quite glad when Cecilia appeared and
led her upstairs. She was steered into a large, masculine bedroom.
The four-poster bed was draped with velvet red curtains to ward off
drafts. Next to the window was a large porcelain tub filled halfway
with steaming water. All thoughts of running from the house were
lost.
    “Supper is at six, feel free to rest as long
as you need to, you will not be bothered. Only gentlemen live
here,” she assured Sarah, slipping out of the room.
    Sarah removed her garments and laid them on
the floor. She didn’t want to sully the bedcovers with road dust.
She carefully dipped a toe in and sighed. Stepping in and sitting
down, she lolled her head back against the rim.
    It had been way too long since she’d had a
proper bath. Cleansing yourself in a creek within feet of hundreds
of men was not considered proper. Nonetheless, she made do.
    She glanced to the side and noticed a bar of
soap and some towels. Sniffing it, she was rewarded by the scent of
lavender. She grasped the soap and began lathering herself from
head to toe. Twice. Her skin tingled and her muscles relaxed; she
rested until the water turned chilly.
    She climbed out and quickly dried off her
body before spending much time squeezing the water out of her hair.
She allowed a yawn to escape as and eyed the bed wearily. Well,
they did suggest for her to rest.
    Feeling like a trespasser she pulled on her
shift and climbed under the covers. The bed was larger than the
tent she lived in. With her mind as tired as her body, she sank
into the feather mattress and was asleep in minutes.
     
    ***
     
    Tristan climbed the steps to his family's
home and was surprised to find it empty. He had spent the day
working on the ship with his men. It felt good using his muscles
again. The sea was calling his name and he ached to be off.
    His hand trailed along the mahogany railing
as he headed to his room to clean up before supper. He grasped the
iron knob and twisted. Locked. He frowned a bit before fumbling
into his pocket for the key. Unlocking the door with a click, he
entered and shut the door behind him. He tossed his hat on the
bureau before turning to head for the water basin. A soft sound
ebbed at him and he turned in bewilderment to take in the lump on
his bed.
    Instinctively he pulled out his knife and
turned to face this new threat. He stood silently, holding his
breath. When no attack came he took a ginger step forward, and then
another. Fire had spilt out over his pillow and attached to it, was
the most delicate face he had ever seen.
    Not quite trusting his sight, he sheathed
his blade and bravely walked to the edge of the bed. He reached
over to lift a strand of flame, to see if it would burn. At the
gentle touch her eyes flew open, as did her mouth to scream.
    Realizing this, he knelt, and covered her
mouth with his hand.
    Leaning down to whisper in her ear, he was
met by a piercing pain in his wrist. He quickly pulled back as the
girl sat up in bed, clutching the covers to her chin.
    “Who the hell are you?” she asked, her
steady voice belied the fear she felt inside.
    “Who am I?” he asked, pulling the pin out of
his wrist. “I was just about to ask who you were, and why you were
in my bed.”
    Her eyes widened when his words sunk in.
“Oh! Well, the Colonel said I could rest in here.”
    “I see,” he said, flexing his wrist to make
sure there was no permanent damage. “You have nothing to fear. I
will not harm you.”
    “I am terribly sorry, you surprised me,”
Sarah said, relaxing a bit. She felt a bit foolish sitting here
half clothed in a man’s bed. What the hell had she been thinking
earlier? It was quite obvious the room belonged to a man. She had
mistakenly assumed it was the Colonel’s.
    Tristan took a deep breath to help cleanse
his mind. He