TEARS OF THE FOOT GUARDS

ADAIGO - STAVE XXIV

S T A V E

XXIV

Obedience with a fine stretch and Geordie against her naked hip. She watched him sleep. How beautiful in the morning light. How beautiful her thoughts had made him.

A click of the door latch.

"You two in there!" Mrs. Edmonds on the door with her shoulder. And Geordie up to pull on his breeches as it door banged open.

"Thieves!" Mrs. Edmonds cried, her face beetling. "My wood and straw!" She pushed past and kicked the ticking. "Pay for what you stole or Colonel Hyde shall hear of this!"

Geordie slapped a shilling in her hand. "Can't have used more than that."

She scowled. "So you think. I'll lay the rest on Hyde's bill."

Geordie gave her five more pence, which she hefted.

"Suppose I can't let you freeze . . . being a Christian woman, but it'd be no more than the rest of us." She scuttled about with no good purpose and out the door.

"Highwayman!" Geordie cried. "For 1&5 we're going to take more." He stoked the oven.

Obedience rearranged the bed and Geordie pressed her back. She stroked his calf with her naked toe. Down fell his breeches. Off with her chemise. They played, drunk on each other, and lounged content on their backs, fingers touching like waving grass.

"Shall we buy each other a present?" she asked. "To remember this day?"

"Yes."

"I think I shall buy you a clasp knife."

"And what should I do with a clasp knife?"

"You'd cut nibs on quills and then write my name everyday – 'Obedience MacEachran'. I love my name – Obedience MacEachran. Write it over and over in 'running hand' with great Italian loops – Obedience MacEachran." She scrolled the air with her finger. "And write me letters proclaiming your passion, that you'll die if I don't come to you."

"I shall."

"I'll refuse and make you plead . . . Fervently. I'll have pity and you may come to me."

"Will you?"

"You'll suffer, Geordie MacEachran," and she paused at its truth. "Deorsa," she called him. "Love me – Always." He squeezed her fingers. "I'll be good for you." He kissed her naked breast. "Now what shall you buy me?"

"What do you want?"

"You pick. It must come from you."

"A yard of Mechlin lace? A new petticoat?" He thought. "A tortoiseshell comb for that copper hair? – A band. I'll buy you a band. A Celtic knot to show you're tied to me."

"That's what I want." And kissed his hand. "Can you find one in Philadelphia?"

"I'll have it made."

"What else?"

"'What else' she says . . . A gift for us as man and wife."

"What shall we get? A pound of tea?"

"A tavern supper of beef, bread and beer."

"And then a Play. We must see a Play – Billy's Strolling Players."