Step into the elegant parlor of Pleasant Grove, an eighteenth century Georgian plantation built high on the bluff above the Santee River. Admire the elegant lines of this gracious brick home and its exquisite décor. Stroll out into the expansive garden between fragrant borders of lavender and rosemary. Bask beneath the moss-hung branches of an enormous live oak, then saunter back indoors to dress for a candlelight dinner in the sumptuous dining room. But don’t plan on a lengthy stay, you’re about to be snatched away for a wild ride into Carolina back country.
Hooves echo on the cobbles beneath Loyalist Meriwether Steele’s bedroom window and rouse her from a restless sleep. What business can anyone possibly have to conduct at this unearthly hour?
Meriwether peers down through moss-draped branches to see two men standing in the yard. One man in a dark coat and a black tricorn hat holds the reins of a roan horse. He isn't familiar, but she knows the other gentleman well. Several inches taller than the stranger, he is simply dressed in a white shirt tucked into breeches that fit his long legs and meet his riding boots. Shadows hide his face and chestnut hair pulled back at his neck, but there’s no mistaking Jeremiah Jordan, master of Pleasant Grove and her guardian these past few months. Elegance cloaks him like a mantle.
Her heart quickens at the sight of Jeremiah and she strains to snatch a word of the men’s hushed exchange. Jeremiah glances around guardedly, then passes what looks like a leather pouch into the stranger’s hand. Her stomach knots in apprehension.
Is this nocturnal visit prearranged? Or worse, has Jeremiah joined the Patriots?
Jeremiah knows Meriwether is a dangerous presence in his home, a Tory who could betray him whether she means to or not. If only he hadn't noticed how fetching she looked in that shift with her bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem. Her soft cheek was so smooth beneath his fingers and she smelled deliciously of violets. He couldn't see her eyes in the dark but he knows the beguiling shape and the tenderness that warms their brown depths whenever he’s near, but he doesn't know what, if anything, she might be willing to sacrifice for the cause of freedom so sacred to his heart.
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