"Ah," said Nathaniel, looking quite satisfied himself. "I knew you'd be thinking about that."

"Well," she said, when it was clear that he was more interested in exploring the soft flesh below her ear than he was in talking. "Are you going to explain?"

"Explanations at this hour of the morning?" He shook his head, one hand slipping down the length of her thigh and starting its return, bringing the hem of her nightgown with it. "But a careful demonstration, that's another thing altogether."

"It's daylight," she said quite softly, and without conviction.

"So it is. But we've done this before in the daylight. In fact, we've only done this in the daylight, and it's worked out pretty fine, I'd say."

She pressed her mouth together hard, her brow furrowed.

"Must you tease me?"

"Now that you ask," he said, his hand continuing in his upward quest. "It is my understanding that as your husband it's not only my right but my duty to tease you. And it's a task I'll take to heart, in case you had any doubts." He nuzzled her neck, and she arched against him as one hand settled on her bare hip.

"Nathaniel," she said, pushing away. I need to— There's something—"

Reluctantly, he let her go. "Aye, well. Then see to it, Boots, but my patience ain't bottomless, you do realize."

"Oh, yes," she said, grinning herself this time. "I do realize that much." She slipped out of the bed and took her dress from its peg on the wall, and pulled it over her head, nightgown and all. Then she stepped into her shoes.

"You're not going out in the rain," Nathaniel said, astonished. "Not when there's a perfectly good alternate sitting right under the bed?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "I am," she confirmed.

"But why?"

"Because for the next few weeks or perhaps more I'll have to do without the Necessary, wont I. But today I can still take advantage of the privacy." She draped her shawl over her head and around her shoulders.

"I don't see that walking through the rain is an advantage," he mumbled. "Seems like a damn inconvenience to me."

"You're not a woman."

He grunted. "At least you noticed that much." He rolled on his side and held out a hand toward her. "Give me a kiss, before you go out into the wet."

But she was already at the door, fluttering her fingers at him.

Nathaniel lay back against the pillows, his hands crossed behind his head, and watched the rain misting. It was just sunup, but they would have to be on their way within the hour. Less, if they could manage it. No time for lessons in satisfaction, or anything else, for that matter. Sooner or later Todd or the judge would think to look to Saratoga.

They would have to lie low until Schuyler had a chance to deal with the authorities and the paperwork in Albany, and then to wait at least two weeks beyond that point, moving for the whole time. Todd would be after them; of that Nathaniel had no doubt. With a sigh of regret he made himself throw back the covers and get out of bed, stretching expansively. He used the pottery contrivance Elizabeth had not wanted, noting with some amusement the elaborate motif of flowers and angels which decorated it inside and out. Then, yawning, he reached for his leggings, happening to look out the window. From this part of the house he could see the kitchen garden, the new—tilled earth dark and damp and fertile in the warm spring, and beyond it, the pastures that lay between the house and the wood.

In that moment, a man appeared at the edge of the forest where it gave way to the cow pasture. He paused there, looking sharp, and started toward the house. He was wearing a cap, but his beard glinted gold—red even in the faint light. There was the spark of a knife at his belt and the barrel of a long rifle protruded from over his shoulder. He was dressed like a backwoodsman, but he moved like a Kahnyen’keháka hunter.

One part of Nathaniel's mind knew what he would see before his eyes had followed the trajectory: Elizabeth emerging from the outhouse, her head bowed under the shawl to keep the misting rain off her face. Richard Todd was moving fast and he would intercept her just as she reached the kitchen door. A minute was enough time, but just.

Nathaniel had his rifle in his hands and had checked the powder pan and load in twenty seconds; in another fifteen he was standing in his breech clout and bare feet with his sights trained on Mrs. Schuyler's kitchen door, at a height of precisely five feet and ten inches. Five inches taller than Elizabeth; three inches shorter than Richard Todd.

Sally Gerlach stood at the board with her hands in a vat of dough, and stared at the half—naked man before her.

"Open the door," he said calmly.

"I need to wipe my hands."

"Nathaniel!" Elizabeth screamed from outside.

"Open it now," he said again. "Or I'll shoot through it."

For her age and size she moved fast. Dipping under his sights, she grabbed the handle with one floury hand and threw the door back with a crash.

"Mother of God!" she shouted.

Elizabeth was turned from them, struggling to pull away from Richard Todd. He had hold of her upper arm, leaning over her with a look of outrage so bitter that it made Nathaniel's nerves hum. His finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger.

She was looking over her shoulder at him in fear and outrage. Nathaniel sensed rather than saw this, for his attention was focused, clear and razor sharp, down the barrel of his rifle to a spot just above Richard Todd's left eyebrow.