Free Surrender the Night by MaryLu Tyndall

leaned toward Rose as if he had a grand secret to tell her. “Though this may shock you, miss, there are British sympathizers among us.”
    Rose’s chest felt as though an anvil had landed on it. “Here in Baltimore? I cannot believe it.” She feigned a gasp. Wondering if the man was playing with her, if he knew exactly what he would find on her land.
    The general huffed in disdain. The lines of his face tightened. “And if I should discover any of them aiding the enemy, I’ll have them hanged for treason.”
    “As well you should, General,” Noah added.
    The air around Rose grew stagnant and stifling. She gasped for a breath. “Indeed” was all she managed to mutter.
    “General, you’ve upset the ladies.” Mr. Snyder furrowed his brows in concern.
    “Of course, forgive me.” General Smith flipped open his pocket watch. “Nevertheless, I plan to send a few of my men to your farm. Councilman Snyder will accompany them, if that would make you feel more at ease.”
    “Well, I cannot say.” Rose’s voice came out shaky, and Marianne took her arm in hers and gave her a curious look. “You should seek my uncle’s permission first.”
    “In wartime, I need no permission, Miss McGuire.” General Smith snapped his watch shut and plopped it back into his pocket. “I can have a small band of militia formed within the hour. I assure you, it won’t take long. We shall be in and out before your evening repast.”

CHAPTER 6
     
    A lex leaned back against the open doorframe of the icehouse and gazed over the lush green farm. Farm indeed. For it appeared the fields had not been plowed nor planted for quite some time. No doubt the cow and the horse, both of whom now grazed among the grass and weeds, were the only things that kept the forest from reclaiming the land. From the icehouse, which was situated at the edge of the property near the tree line and not far from a river—the mad rush of which had soothed him to sleep the past few nights—Alex possessed a grand view of the property. Smoke curled from the small brick house at the center of the land, evidence that at least one person remained at home. Most likely a servant since Alex had seen Miss McGuire, Amelia, and an older lady leave in a landau hours ago. An elderly gentleman had left on a lone horse at dawn.
    The barn where Alex had fought with Garrick and where he’d been tended to by the lovely Miss McGuire stood to the right of the house, while a smaller barn or stable perched on the other side. A quaint manor, to be sure, a rich and fertile land that was well placed beside the river. Yet quite rustic compared to the Reed estate from which Alex hailed. In fact, one might even call this American farm barbaric.
    Yet there was something soothing, something peaceful about thescene that eased through Alex like a warm elixir, loosening his coiled nerves and calming his mind. Or perhaps that elixir came in the form of the angel who had tended him so faithfully these past eight days.
    An avenging angel, to be sure. Though Miss McGuire appeared angelic on the outside, the fire burning in those blue eyes and her occasional caustic retort spoke otherwise.
    She hated Alex. Simply because he was British. He’d never experienced that level of prejudice before. But how could he blame her? Her parents had been murdered by the British. And now his countrymen were attempting to reclaim her country for the Crown.
    Alex gripped the knife and continued whittling away at the thick branch he’d found among the trees. Miss McGuire had stolen his pistol and service sword, but she’d not found the knife he kept hidden within one of his boots. He studied his handiwork. Soon he’ll have fashioned a crutch that would aid him in his trek back to the Gunpowder River, where he’d first landed. With God’s help and a bit of luck, he’d come across a cockboat from one of the ships. God’s help. Alex wondered if God had anything to do with any of this. Or if the Almighty took note