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

              He paused for a moment, as though contemplating his own words, perhaps editing them for approval or realizing the weight of them as he surveyed the men. In any event, after a few moments of silence, a drum roll rang out from behind the tree line, perhaps two hundred yards away. It was time.
              "Ready!" he shouted. It was not a question, it was a command.
              Edward was in front, along the front lines, so he knelt down on one knee and readied himself for the breach of the tree line by the British. As his knee sunk into the soft ground, he dared to cast an eye over at Abigail. She was kneeling as well, also on the front lines. From what he knew of her, he couldn't have expected anything else, but his heart sank in his chest anyway. Why would she take the front lines? He knew the answer, but it didn't make it any easier on him. He loved her, and they had only had a short time together. He wanted it to last, wanted to be with her far beyond this battlefield and this war. But now was no time for being sentimental.
              He was back in fighting mode as he heard a particularly loud clash of the drum and realized that they were nearly at the tree line; the British were nearly upon them, and sentimentalities would have to wait for a later date. His heart beat within his chest and he took a deep breath to steady himself. Raising his gun, he caught a glimpse of General Washington, whose horse was near him. Looking up briefly at the General, he thought Washington was peering at him with a knowing look. Does he know? he thought. Does he remember me? Has he seen me before? Has he recalled my face as one of the British troops and thinks me a spy? The lump in Edward's throat grew and he swallowed hard, hoping that it was only his paranoia that had found him out, and not Washington.
              With a quick motion, General Washington led his horse off toward the right side of the battlefield toward the trees from which he had recently emerged and rounded to the side of his troops, surveying something from a different angle. He cast an eye back at Edward and then looked forward and readied his gun.
              Edward didn't know what to think, and, in all reality, he didn't have time to think at all. This wasn't about battle. Everything else could wait. Even if General Washington somehow realized that he was a member of the British army—or used to be—he found it entirely unlikely that given the dire and pressing situation at hand, this would be the moment that Washington chose to pull him aside and question him. He was right.
              The drum roll was close enough now that Edward knew battle would commence in the next few moments. As he shot one final look over at Abigail, her eyes unwavering and focused, her gun readied, the British army broke through the tree line.
              What happened next Edward could not have explained in any certain terms. There was an eruption of gunfire, booming cannon-like sounds from behind and all around him and coming at him as well. He happened to find his focus and took aim at one of the British troops. Brigadier Thompson. He knew him. And as he fell to the ground from his horse, the reality of what it meant to redirect one's loyalty dawned on Edward.
              Another one of his former fellow soldiers was rushing toward him, Brigadier North, and in a single shot Edward sent him, too, to the ground. The panic was welling up inside him, the image of that one man, the one who changed his mind about his loyalties. Well, it didn't matter now, but it struck Edward as odd. Killing those who were once his fellow soldiers did not render his heart broken and haunt him like that man.
              But this was no time for reflection.
              Brushing the image out of his mind, he continued on.