I wanted to thank you guys for all your support on the first chapter! it really means alot and I love reading your reviews. This chapter is longer than the first, let me know if you like it that way' or if you prefer shorter chapters"
- Hawkfrost
She was watching him again. He could see her in the reflection of his cup, staring at him rather intensely. He smiled at that. He had been coming here for about 3 months now and he hadn't been able to summon up the courage to do more than mumble greetings to this woman. Which was rather humorous considering his day job. He focused back on his drawing, for this was the difficult part. The eyes and the slope of the nose could so drastically alter a persons face he always took great care to get it exactly right. After a few minutes of intense concentration, he blew off the dust from his drawing and gave it an appraising look.
The eyes were fierce and intelligent, those lips formed into a wicked smile that even in paper form threatened to stop his heart. Her hair impeccably done in a braid that stopped a little below her shoulder. She had a light dusting of freckles that he had a rather intense desire to kiss. He peered at it, this drawing of the woman that owned his soul and didn't even know it. It was the most peculiar thing, he had never felt this way for a woman before. When he woke, he could swear she was lying beside him, when he dreamt, it was of her. When he wasn't focusing on matters of state, his brain would automatically flow to thoughts of her, what she was doing. It was maddening.
With a great effort, he gently laid down the drawing and took a deep breath. It was time, he shifted in his seat so that he could look at the bar, look for the woman who held his very heart in her hands. He blinked. Sh-she wasn't there. Then he heard it, the sounds of drunken sailors and alcohol-induced laughter. He turned the other direction just in time to see a soldier's fist collide with her jaw.
In one smooth movement, he flew across the room and gripped the man's forearm, yanking it mid-air. The soldier's startled expression was most satisfying as was his attempt to speak. A violent twisting of his arm ended that soon enough. After the soldier had apologized and been led out, he gently took hold of her face. Even here, in this room full of drunks and patrons, surrounded by the musty odor of food, ale, and sweat, despite having on a grease-stained apron and smelling of vomit, she was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
Gently, his fingers traced the tender slope of her jawline, and surely he must be imagining things because she seemed to shudder before him. Taking her hand in his he led her to a table where he left her to fetch some ice. It was only after he was chopping the ice off the block he realized he had done almost all of that on auto-pilot. Sloppy Henry. With a shake of the head, he returned to where she was waiting and gently pressed the ice to her face.
"You won't have to worry about something like that ever happening again. You have my word as a gentleman." Being so close to her, feeling her body shift as she breathed, touching her and realizing she wouldn't dissipate like she always did in his dreams caused him to give something of a shy smile.
God must have been smiling at him, because she returned the smile, genuinely. And by God! He had to consciously instruct his lungs to resume breathing.
"My name is Henry, Major Henry Haddock at your service."
"I know. My name is Astrid, Astrid Hofferson."
They stayed like that, staring at each other before the melting ice caused Henry to chuckle and remove it from her cheek.
"Sorry about that, I wasn't paying attention." He brushed the water off her face with his thumb.
"Really sir, you've been much too kind."
"Nonsense, one the soldiers here, a soldier that the king sent to protect you and your fellow subjects from these repulsive rebels struck you. The least I can do is see to your injury. Oh, what would you like done to him?"
Astrid had to force herself to remain impassive. Repulsive rebels?! Who does this arrogant prick think he is? Oh, of course. He's a Brit. "What do you mean, what do I want to be done with him?"
The look he gave her sent a chill through her body that had nothing to do from the ice. "He struck you, behavior like that will not be tolerated, not by any soldiers to whom I am a superior."
He seemed greatly disturbed by this incident. Why she couldn't figure out. What concern does a Brit officer have with a barmaid? Besides, it's not like the colonies are at war with England because She had rejected a dinner invite. Taking a deep breath she responded.
"Really sir, I don't want to be any trouble. I'd just as happily let you punish him as you see fit."
He gave her curious look but nodded, "as you wish, m'lady."
She felt her lips twitch into a smile on their own accord hearing him address her as such. Damn this man!
He took a deep breath after looking at her for a bit as if he were wrestling to a conclusion. "Could I trouble m'lady for a platter of food? Doling out punishment on errant children does tend to build up one's appetite."
She let out a dry chuckle and nodded, a little sad, though she didn't know why. "Of course sir, right away." She got up and headed back towards the bar
He called out after her, "And two sets of silverware please, I'm hoping for a guest." She nodded that she had heard.
Once she rounded the corner she wiped her face off with a rag and studiously ignored the look she was getting from her boss, Mr. Whitman.
"Are you crazy?!" His whisper was harsher than it needed to be. "What the devils are you doing talking to him?"
Astrid had to struggle to control her temper. "In case you hadn't noticed, I didn't exactly fall in his lap. Or was I simply to cower before the man that hit me?"
She put extra emphasis on those last two words. She took pleasure in watching him shrink back.
"No, no of course not. I'm sorry, for not coming to your aid. But this is a dangerous game. If he finds out who you really are, he'll see to it that you hang."
That statement hit home, hard. She swallowed and nodded. "Yes, but if he thinks of me as a friendly face, he might be more willing to say things within my earshot. Things that might help drum up business."
She used the passphrase for 'gathering intel'. He thought about it for a few seconds and nodded ever so slightly. Gathering the food, she went back to his table.
"Here you are sir, one New York lunch and two sets of silverware. Do you know when your friend will be joining you?"
He gave her a crooked smile that caused her heart to speed up slightly, "Now actually. I was hoping you could join me for lunch?" The question took her off guard.
She wasn't expecting anything of the sort. Which made her angry. He thinks I'm some silly girl tripping over her feet to sleep with him, doesn't he? She was going to deny it on impulse, just to show this, this man that she wasn't a girl to be bullied into fancying. As she prepared to shut him down, she paused at the expression on his face. It wasn't demanding or overbearing, it was hopeful and gentle. Could he really want to have lunch with her? Yes, he would.
"I would love to." The smile she was rewarded with made her happy for some reason.
He got up and pulled her chair out for her.
"Thank you."
He nodded politely and returned to his own seat.
After a nervous pause, she began cutting into the meat. "So, how did you end up working in this tavern?"
She swallowed her morsel of food, or rather she tried to. It suddenly hardened and grew in size while still working its way down her throat. She sipped her ale and smiled forcefully.
"It wasn't by choice I assure you. Um, my father was killed during the battle of Saratoga."
"Ah, regrettable." Despite it being only a cover story, her anger grew at this man who so casually cast aside her fake father's death. Didn't they have any emotions at all? No, they don't. And that's why they're the enemy. He motioned for her to continue.
"And my mother passed away last winter due to illness."
She expected a similar response to what he had given for her 'fathers' death. Instead, he placed down his fork and stopped eating. He looked at her with deep pain and sadness behind his eyes.
"That truly is a pity. I'm sorry, may God welcome her into his loving embrace."
She stared at him in surprise. That wasn't what she was expecting. Then, he was back to his normal self.
"After that, I came to New York. My father was friends with and he gave me a job. He and my father were close so he was happy enough to help." She shrugged.
He nodded thoughtfully and stopped eating. Wiping his mouth he simply gazed at her for several moments. "I have to say, something about your mannerism is most familiar. Have we met somewhere before?"
She prided herself on not reacting visibly other than a slight twitch of her finger. "New York is a small city, perhaps you've seen me running errands or something of the sort."
Her instructors had drummed several things into her head, first of them being that lies must be easily remembered and descriptively vague. This man had seen her before, 6 months prior he had led a small incursion of British soldiers to destroy a resupply camp, it was just bad luck she happened to be on her way out with her new assignment. She was sure he hadn't gotten anything more than a glimpse of her. But it would be enough to nag him, so, she provided an alternative. He had simply seen her around town.
He nodded again, eyes never leaving her face. When he spoke again his voice was much more serious. "You know there was something I intended to ask you, about you and your relationship with Mr. Whitman over there."
His eyes seemed to bore into her and she could feel the sweat building at the base of her neck. Forcing herself to remain relaxed, she white-knuckled the knife she was holding and smiled amiably at him. Damn! Damn! Damn!