Storm of Love - A Historical Romance Set during the American Revolutionary War by Nathaniel Burns

seconds all at the same time. Abigail wanted to cry, to sob and hold him and tell him to be careful, but there was no way she could. How could she go back to camp like that? Even though all the world was asleep, there was just no way she could risk it. No man would cry out here in battle, so she wasn't about to, either.
              They whispered to each other to be careful, and Abigail felt her heart sink.
              "Edward, don't let yourself come to harm, okay?"
              "You do the same, all right? I don't want to see you get hurt. Truth be told, that's my biggest fear, not what happens to me."
              "Fine, then we both keep ourselves safe for each other. Right?"
              Edward seemed to agree with her, but he seemed to do that a lot lately when she thought that perhaps he secretly didn't agree with her at all, or that perhaps what she was saying didn't apply to them in some way.
              It didn't matter. Tomorrow they would learn what they had been brought to battle for. That night, the sky was barely visible—a cloud cover had come over the encampment. Fitting , she thought, as she stared up at the sky trying to fall asleep. Her last thoughts as she finally drifted off were of Edward.

 
    9 The Battle
    The following morning, all in the camp were awakened by Bulldog shouting that the British forces were about to meet them. Edward awoke with a start, realizing that this was the day they would be fighting. His head turned immediately toward Abigail, though his eyes were decidedly diverted from her. He couldn't look her way, couldn't see her on the eve of battle, for he knew that if he did he would come undone. He had to maintain a sense of composure.
              For another thing, he feared that he would be recognized by his old troops, the brigadiers he fought alongside back when he had no idea what he was fighting for. Being recognized might not be such a bad thing for him, but he knew that if he were killed, Abigail would be left in the war on her own, and for some reason that gave him a sense of duty, that he could not leave her, that he could not let her go.
              Finally, from a distance, they heard the sound of feet, boots marching along the woodland, drums and battle songs being sung, the sound of an impending battle. In his heart, Edward felt that the only thing likely to happen was that many would die, and he prayed—though he had never done such a thing before in his life—that Abigail would remain safe.
              One of the men standing next to him squinted into the distance as though he was waiting for a ship to come in instead of facing his impending doom. Perhaps , Edward thought, it is really no different for me . A ship and his death would mean much the same thing: transportation out of here and moving on to another location.
              Edward could understand the look on the man's face. At least, he would have been able to understand it before, but now that he loved Abigail he didn't want to give up so easily. Not that anyone there wanted to give up, per se, but he assumed that it became easier over the extent of the war to become rather complacent about the way things were going. It didn't seem to him that any real good was going to come of anything. At least not today.
              When the first glimpses of red cloth and British flag were seen, the men all shifted, seemingly simultaneously, readying their steps and turning their gazes forward, focusing as best they could on the battle at hand. Wind rustled through the trees, and many in the front row took to their knee, rifle or whatever gun they happened to have at hand, and stood positioned for an attack.
              Some of the other men were armed with pistols, but the majority of them had rifles, and some even had shotguns.