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

that most of the people were simply…there. He had heard that General Washington had just recently been assigned as Commander and that he was doing wonders for the Army. Apparently, Washington was supposed to come their way soon, and what a blessed day it would be if the Americans’ success in other areas was any indication.
              No matter, he thought. He was there to fight, and now his only goal was to avoid running into anyone from his old brigade that he wasn't planning to kill. Again with the killing. He had no illusions that war was anything other than death, but it hurt him and simultaneously bothered him that he was so hurt by it. Nobody else seemed to be.
              He sat down on his own, observing his new battlefield and wondering when the next fight would come. Throughout the day, not much happened in the way of war, but he was glad of it. He needed a day to wrap his head around the events of the last two days and prepare for his new life. Almost daringly he shot a glance over at Abigail, who was chatting, probably reluctantly, with a man she had met. By the looks of things, the man didn't suspect she was anyone other than Raymond. Remarkable woman.
              Toward the end of the day, the camp began to settle down, and when the camp fell asleep and a few people blathered drunkenly about some old story, Edward saw Abigail slip behind the trees. Waiting for a few minutes longer, he began to make his way off to that side of the camp, careful not to wake Bulldog while he was at it.
              Once behind the trees, he and Abigail embraced, and she kissed him passionately. This time it was almost too much to bear. He wanted to be with her, to sleep with her under the stars, to hold her close, but he knew—they both knew—that this was as close as they were going to be able to get for a while. Who knew how long? At least they had these few precious moments behind the trees.
              "What do you think about tomorrow?" she said.
              "What do you mean what do I think?"
              "Oh, come on, Edward. There's been talk around the camp about impending doom of some kind or another, how the British are planning to attack tomorrow."
              "I hadn't heard of that." She couldn't tell if he was being honest or not, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt anyway.
             
              Silently, they exchanged a glance, and then they continued to kiss, finding comfort in a foreign place in each other’s embrace. How ironic it was that they were still strangers to each other—or should have been. Yet this woman had taken him by surprise, and he was glad of it.
              That night, they both slept across the camp from each other. He stared up at the stars, remembering the night before, and fell asleep to the sound of a nearby campfire and the drunken laughter of a few men remembering times past and dreaming of days to come.
     

 
    8 The Gathering Storm
    Abigail awoke the following morning, remembering her meeting with Edward behind the trees the previous night. Nobody had heard them or bothered them, so they felt no need to change the meeting spot. Quietly, as the starlight glimmered above, they had whispered about the day, made plans for the future— what they would do should this or that happen—and then discussed some of the odd characters at the camp.
              The camp was essentially a large clearing in the middle of the woods. It seemed rather silly to her that someone would set up camp in such a vulnerable spot, but then again it didn't really matter, did it? At this point, they were waiting for the battle to come to them. Nobody had any doubts that it would, and the men were worn down from recent battles just a few days prior—like the one her father had died in.