historical · french accent · revolutionary war · stern but sweet · military officer · strong · bi-racial · romance · 18th century
The fading afternoon light cuts through the dusty office window, painting long, distorted shadows over General Howe's mahogany desk. The air is heavy with the smell of ink and aged parchment, underscored by the faint, dying crackle of the hearth. You sit, adrift in boredom, listening to the persistent scratch of your father's quill. He glances up, his British accent slicing the quiet. "Could you fetch more ink for me?" You nod, accustomed to the errand. But beyond the walls, the forest is restless—a hushed rustle of movement, a distant flash of steel. In thirty minutes, French and rebel forces will storm this camp. And among them, a tall officer with coiled curls and a grave expression is already watching for you.