Storm of Love - A Historical Romance Set during the American Revolutionary War by Nathaniel Burns

terrified.
              "Good morning," she said quietly.
              "Good day, m'lady," he remarked, smirking a bit.
              "Always a jester," she replied.
              "Perhaps."
                  "Ready for today?"
              He thought about it before answering. This woman seemed to read him like a book, and the cover did no good in convincing her of anything but the truth of the contents within.
              "No, I'm not."
              Her expression questioned him without saying a word.
              "Abigail, I don't want to lose you. I know it's…it's crazy, it's silly, but…I'd rather fight for both of us than see you out there. I know this is your battle, though. I know you must. But still…that I had any control over it…" he trailed off.
              Abigail put a hand on his chest and then touched his face. "It's okay," she promised.
              "I hope so."
                  After they had eaten—some bread of his and fruit of hers—they packed up their things once again, discarding what they did not need and hiding the fact that they had ever been there as best they could. It was essential, being this close to the battlefield, that they not leave any trace of where they had been. Being in the forest broke no law—it was how most people got to the battlefield—but any sign of his British identity and they would both be sunk.
              Finally, after a long while, they had everything together, shared a kiss, and then moved onward toward the battlefield. It was only a few hours away, and they both shared the anticipation. She couldn't possibly know how anxious he was about returning to a battlefield he had so recently fled. And yet, she was the ever-increasing inspiration for his return. Where he had been headed before, when he was traveling in the other direction, he couldn't know. He just had to leave, had to go, had to get out.
              Once again, they were walking side by side, and although it had only happened for the first time a day ago, he felt as though he had been walking by her side forever. I intend to, as well, if this thing has a happy ending, he thought to himself.
              Over morning breakfast, they had decided that he would be Grayson Bentley, and she had already decided on being Raymond. Traveling toward their goal, he felt as though a tunnel were closing and the walls were closing in on him ever so slightly, ever so consistently, as they traveled along, and he couldn't help but think that this was the end.
              Approaching the battlefield line was the worst part. It was like being on the sea in the midst of a storm, on the top of a wave, waiting to crash down, expecting there to be some turbulence, expecting some hard times and some difficulty but not knowing whether the ship can be righted, not knowing whether it will end in smooth seas or at the bottom of the ocean.
              It was unclear to him whether he had even considered this before, but it was too late now. Now he was standing at the precipice of his future, and he had someone else with him, too. Someone he loved but didn't even know a few days earlier. Now it was all so real, it was all in front of him, and he didn't know if he could possibly do it.
              But it was time to find out, regardless. They approached what appeared to be the campground in the midst of the battlefield and walked up to a person who seemed to be in charge. "Raymond (smith) here," said Abigail, and Edward smiled inside—she really did a good job of passing as a man when she needed to. "And this here is my friend Grayson Bentley. Come down from the farms and wanted to join the Army, you have room?"
              The man sat like a puffy bull dog