Enemy of Mine Page 4

  ~*~

  Best not to appear too eager, Erva thought as she entered a gigantic dining room, or whatever it was called back then. Spending so much time learning how gunpowder was made, transported, and distributed did nothing for her knowledge of everyday things, like what a dining room would be called.

  Immediately, William stood in the white walled and white marble-floored room and bowed to her. Strips of happy sunshine poured through four tall and wide windows, illuminating the general in his red uniform, making him appear even more masculine and powerful. His black hair, tied neatly at the nape of his neck, radiated silver from the sunlight. And, God, his blue eyes emitted the brightest color of cobalt. He was mesmerizing. Erva internally shook herself to stop staring at him.

  For two years when she was a teenager, she had been a ballerina—one of many hobbies she’d tried to perfect to please her mother, but she’d never curtsied outside a stage. She tried very hard not to giggle at how silly she felt as she reciprocated William’s manners. But this was so much fun.

  “I trust you’ve had a good morning, my lady?”

  William’s voice rasped and was much deeper than she had imagined it to be. She had thought it would be similar to her memories of her father’s, masculine yet soft, calming, nurturing.

  She smiled. “Yes, my lord.” She almost laughed again at the titles. This was so inane.

  A muscular man in black formal garb scooted back a seat at the other end of the table, indicating she was to sit there. It may as well have been a mile away from the general.

  “May I please sit closer to the lord?”

  The man bowed and walked like a pent tiger closer to William, whose shock he wore openly with arched dark brows. Oh, she’d probably overstepped etiquette by asking to sit closer to the man, but who cared. This was her craziness. She would do whatever the hell she wanted. For once.

  After she sat, William lowered himself to his chair, almost unsteadily, appearing to tame his surprise.

  Another man in stiff black appeared and bowed to her. “Would the lady care for some collared tongue this morning?”

  Erva bit her bottom lip, trying not to burst out laughing. Again. But after the elderly man had made his offering, she’d glanced at William’s high collar. Now all she could think about was tonguing it. Not the collar. The general’s neck. God, could she act more like a lusty loon? She gulped down her fun and shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  “Perhaps kidneys on toast then, madam?”

  She wasn’t much of a meat eater, let alone an organ carnivore. Taking a glance at William’s plate, she discovered figs glazed with honey and plain toast. She beamed up at the general.

  “I’ll have what he’s having, please.”

  The servant bowed and began to take his leave, when Erva called out, “Thank you!”

  The man turned to her again, bowed once more, then left.

  Servants, she was not used to. Weren’t there supposed to be more of them, she wondered, as she skimmed over the room again. The maids who had dressed her had disappeared like a wild flock of doves, once she was clad in her costume. The only servant in the room was the man who had helped her into her chair. He was young, about William’s age, with warm brown hair and eyes that matched. Stocky like a wrestler, Erva thought the man could be intimidating. But maybe she thought that because he stood close to a white wall, staring at her, it seemed. Well, she probably didn’t quite fit in. After all, she’d insisted on not wearing that over-the-top pannier, which would have made her skirts as huge as Texas. Further, she knew she was glancing at everything like a wide-eyed teenage girl, meeting her rock-star crush.

  She had to make it clear she was professional and only wanted to know more about William. His tactics, she meant.

  “You feign frontal attacks when really you outflank and out-maneuver your opponent,” she said. “Who taught you how to do that?”

  The general coughed from sipping coffee, grabbed a napkin, and covered his mouth. After recovering, he placed the cloth back on his lap, his eyes furiously studying his plate. “Pardon?”

  Erva took a breath. Her own social tactics were less than desired. A nagging thought occurred that if this was merely a dream, then why wasn’t he doing exactly what she wanted? Why even have servants at all? Why wasn’t she in some studio like Oprah would have, interviewing William?

  Oh, right! She was insane now. May as well go along with her madness, right?

  “I’m sorry.” She tried to laugh. “Perhaps we need to get to know one another a bit more before you share how and where you learned your tactics.”

  William’s dark brows drew down and when he finally stole a glance at her, he looked perplexed. “The lady wishes to know tactics? Military tactics?”

  Ugh. How she detested being referred to in the third person, no less. And had she detected a slight macho, condescending tone? Surprisingly, she’d never gotten flak from her classmates, most of whom were men. Nor had she gotten that tone from her professors, most of them males too. It was usually women who gave her that patronizing tone. They’d say, “Why would such a pretty girl like you want to know more about war?” At least so it was in her time, but this was the eighteenth century. Women had places that made Erva almost shudder in disgust.

  She studied the young general, realizing that he might be a prick after all. She’d defended him to her classmates and professors, because his tactics were calculated, but never conniving. Deep down Erva thought that William had been misunderstood, like her father, gone too soon to defend himself. But now...

  The general’s face broke into a quick smile. “After breakfast, would you care to watch my men drill? We could talk of tactics then. There are daily parades in the afternoon as well.”

  Erva nearly squealed. She held it in though. Barely. This was exactly what she wanted! She reached out and held the general’s rough and calloused hand. “Yes, please. But why wait? I’ll eat in the car—in the carriage.”

  Then, the general did the most terrible thing. His smile widened, and he laughed. God, he was so much more handsome than any painting she’d seen. He was beautiful like that, laughing, carefree. Erva felt a zip of desire run through her stomach, breasts, and between her legs.

  Maybe to herself she could admit she had a wee bit of a crush on him. But her papers on the general had always been professional, educational, academic, sterile. While here, she had to remain detached. After all, she knew the man’s time of death. There was also his reputation as a rake to think about. The man was supposedly a real slut with not one but two mistresses. Yes, Erva definitely didn’t need to let her infatuation run any further than just a zip at the dinner table.

  She just hoped her body understood, especially as William squeezed her hand as his chuckles faded.