Rapture's Betrayal by Candace McCarthy

away.
    But soon reality crept in to haunt Richard, reminding him of the job he had to finish. While Kirsten slept, her naked form cuddled against him, he remembered the Briton’s words. Biv, fool that he is, thinks he’s a Loyalist . . . I’d get rid of him, but we may have need of him again.
    Biv! Just as he’d thought! Biv was at the bottom of the treachery! Soon, Richard vowed, the bastard would meet his fate.
    He must get to Washington’s camp. This information was vital. Biv had had a hand in the attempt on his life. Was the man a direct link with the traitor who’d killed Alex?
    Richard shuddered. For all he knew the traitor might now be laying a trap for Washington’s army. He wondered if he could live with himself if this time with Kirsten meant the deaths of innocent young men.
    Kirsten stirred in her sleep, and he tightened his embrace. Crooning softly, he rubbed her back until she settled back into a peaceful slumber.
    Oh, woman, he thought. What have you done to me that I’d neglect my duty for a night in your arms? He ran a finger down her cheek, across her lips, knowing the exact moment when her mouth curved in joy at his touch.
    She moaned and then opened her lips to draw his finger into her mouth. Richard drew a harsh breath when she tasted the digit, her tongue swirling about it with slow flicks.
    He withdrew his hand to cup and caress her throat, before he captured her breast. Kirsten snuggled against him, her fingers splaying against his chest, discovering a male nipple, pinching it gently.
    â€œOh, girl!”
    â€œWhat’s fair is fair,” she murmured groggily. When he retaliated by pressing a hand to the moist triangle of curls between her legs, Kirsten whimpered.
    â€œRichard,” she cried.
    He laughed, the deep mellow sound becoming raspy when her fingers enclosed his rising manhood.
    â€œWe shouldn’t, Kirsten, you—”
    â€œIt doesn’t hurt much.”
    â€œStill, you’re sore . . .” Richard hesitated, but the flowing tide of ecstasy was hardening his body, capturing his soul. He couldn’t take her! She must be raw, he wanted it to be good for her. “I know a way, but you must trust me.”
    Trust him? Kirsten thought. She’d given herself to him. She trusted him with her heart. . . her life. “What shall I do?”
    â€œLie back.” He slid down to kneel between her open legs.
    â€œRichard?” Kirsten blinked and tried to see him. His hands skimmed over her thighs to the gateway of her desire. She arched off the blanket, shocked, when his head bent and his hair brushed against her legs. His warm, wet mouth kissed her intimately. She gasped. “Richard, what . . .”
    He straightened. His eyes, glowing, held her gaze. “Trust me, Kirsten.”
    She did . . . and captured a moment of heaven in the arms of her Continental.
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    â€œMajor! Sir, there’s someone approaching!”
    â€œShadwell, get the men into position!” Major Richard Thatcher was instantly alert as he barked orders, insuring the safety of his men and supplies. He stood outside the ring of the firelight, his small troop of men lining up, prepared to fight.
    There was the pounding of hoofbeats.
    â€œ Rea-dy . . .”
    The soldiers hefted their guns into firing position.
    â€œ Aim . . . ”
    Just then a lone figure on horseback came galloping through a break in the trees.
    â€œHold up, Shadwell. I think it’s our man.”
    â€œHold up!” The order was repeated for the line. A second command was issued, to keep position.
    Suddenly wary of the soldiers’ stance, William Randolph hesitated, his hands clutching the reins tightly as he pulled up his mount. But the horse, lathered by the gallop and the heat, reared, nearly unseating his master. Randolph skillfully brought the gelding under control and then his gaze fastened on the British commander.
    â€œMajor Thatcher?” he