Paper Woman: A Mystery of the American Revolution (43 page)

Her right
shoulder throbbed against the floor.
 
The gag made her jaw ache.
 
She
concentrated on the trim.
 
In no way
must she appear to agree with Fairfax about the rebels, even though she did
agree.
 
He'd twist her interpretation
until she lost confidence in her ability to reason.
 
Besides, if he'd wanted her opinion, he'd have removed her gag.

"Your
brother's imagination amazes me.
 
Such a
masterful conjecture about the frigate and the
Zealot
.
 
The two actually collided during that
wretched storm.
 
Naturally both lost
men, but we gained the frigate.
 
The
Yankee Doodle Navy makes for such splendid humor.
 
Warships are a waste of your money."

He leaned
forward, elbows on his knees.
 
"Here, now, I suppose you're wondering about Major Hunt."

Her focus on
the trim broke.
 
Edward represented the
three-week-long nightmare's anchor of sanity on the redcoat end.
 
Were she his prisoner, the fear of rape
would never have clutched her heart.
 
In
question and hope, she transferred her attention to Fairfax.

He sprawled
back and fondled the lace some more.
 
"Of course you're wondering about him.
 
But don't squander your energy doing so."

Blast.
 
He'd lured her into that trap.
 
She yanked her focus back to the trim, her
self-confidence as jarred as her shoulder.

He draped the
veil across his thighs, set his hat on the seat beside him, and indulged in a
stretch that popped joints.
 
"Since
I'm the villain, I'm entitled to review a villain's repertoire of measures I
might take with a captive to ensure submission.
 
How long do you suppose it'll take us to reach the harbor?
 
Eight minutes?
 
Alas, that isn't enough time.
 
I shouldn't have said
rápidamente
."
 
With the toe of his boot, he nudged her
petticoat up a few inches to reveal her naked calf.
 
"What's the Spanish word for slowly, Sophie?
 
S-l-o-w-l-y."
 
He slithered the edge of the veil over the tender skin behind her
knee.
 
Revulsion rode a wave through
her.
 
"Is it
lentamente
?
 
How much might I have to pay the driver to
make this ride last two hours?
 
You and
I have unfinished business."

He wadded up the
veil, flopped back with a sigh, and slapped his forehead.
 
"Damn, what's gotten into me?
 
It must be the sight of you lying there
half-naked that made me forget about our rendezvous with your father and
Dusseau.
 
This has all come together in
such splendid fashion.
 
Those two have
been skulking about Havana between the harbor and the Church of Saint
Teresa.
 
I imagine seeing you and your
brother bound and gagged in the company of Continental marines will be
sufficient to speed them our way and clear up misunderstandings.
 
We shall all return to the Colonies, then
all of
you
shall make the acquaintance of the gallows.
 
Why do I get the impression you aren't
paying attention to me?"

Church bells
pealed the quarter hour.
 
After laying
the veil beside his hat, Fairfax lifted her to the opposite seat with
gentleness.
 
He pulled up her stocking
and refastened her garter.
 
Then he
straightened out her petticoat and brushed dirt and dried grass off it.
 
"Darling, I've a job to perform, and
I'd dearly love your cooperation.
 
How
it would predispose me in your favor if you helped me."
 
The soft, damp kiss he dropped on her bare
chest above the top of her shift sent her skin crawling.

"The five
in that carriage behind us expect to thwart nine of the king's finest and kill
your father and Dusseau.
 
Cheeky of
them, eh?"
 
He loosened her gag,
lowered it, and nuzzled her ear.
 
"Intelligent women enthrall me.
 
I was bewitched when you flung Hernandez's Rightful Blood connection in
his face.
 
Questioning the Gálvez
involvement was a brilliant stroke.
 
That's one family I'd love to topple — ah, but for some solid evidence
against them.
 
By the by, the two
assassins arrived here late yesterday.
 
I wager you've an idea where they are this very moment."

If she'd known
El Serpiente's whereabouts, she'd have felt far better herself.
 
Still, she saw no reason to inform Fairfax
of her Havana encounter with him.
 
From
all she'd experienced, the assassin might accidentally help her escape
Fairfax.
 
She worked her mouth.
 
"Is that the only piece you haven't
figured out yet?"

He ran his
tongue around the outside of her ear.
 
"Allow me to explain.
 
I
ask the questions, and
you
answer them."
 
He caressed his cheek across her bosom, the heat of his hands
enclosing her ribcage.
 
His breathing
hoarsened with arousal.
 
"Where are
the assassins?"

Her stomach
knotted at the prickle of saliva on her ear and the pressure of his hands on
her waist.
 
"We last encountered
them Sunday night, on Abaco.
 
The
captain captured one of them, but he escaped."

Fairfax sat up
and stared, his hand on her waist.
 
"Abaco?"

She wiped her
ear with her shoulder and scooted away.
 
"The storm blew us there.
 
We stayed for two days repairing the brig."

He reeled her
against him, fascination sparking his eyes.
 
"I enjoy your lies."
 
He brushed his lips over her lower lip, and she jammed her jaw
shut.
 
"It isn't that your skills
at deception are lacking, you enchanting coquette.
 
It's knowing that you lie to play with me.
 
You're just as eager as I to consummate what
we started back in that barn —"

"Damn
you!
 
I told you the truth about the
cipher at my home that Sunday night, and you didn't believe me then,
either."

"You lied
to me in Cow Ford."

"You don't
want my cooperation.
 
You want to push
me about."

"My, how
you hate me for executing the French spy, despite how merciful I was.
 
He hardly suffered at all,
belle
Sophie."

Tears stung her
eyes.
 
She turned her head and blinked
them away.
 
How wicked, to taunt her
about Jacques.

"We should
all be that lucky.
 
Some live lives of
so violent a nature that we court violent ends, often even sobbing for death to
release us from the torment our souls earn for our bodies.
 
Considering the life le Coeuvre led, he was
one of the fortunate ones."
 
His
hand around her jaw, he forced her face to his.
 
"I gave him the glorious end he wanted, and I made it
merciful and quick just for you.
 
Thank
me."

Did Fairfax
believe her head was as broken as his?
 
"Hell shall freeze first."

He smiled, his
tone tranquil.
 
"I said, thank
me."
 
His fingers trailed down her
neck and over her collarbone, pausing to cup her left breast through the fabric
of her shift.
 
Then he lowered his mouth
to her breast and rooted for her nipple.
 
She'd imagined enduring rape, perhaps even battery, with passive
resistance: her body limp, her soul closed off from her body and
unsurrendered.
 
But when his teeth
teased her nipple out to an aching point, her womb quivered in response, and
she gagged with horror.
 
Her body
wouldn't cooperate in passive resistance.
 
She could no more close off her soul than she could control the
moon.
 
He pulled back, gloating.
 
"You're so welcome, darling."

Nauseated, she
looked at the piece of trim again, unable to block out his smile.
 
He brought her jacket together and fastened
it closed.
 
"Shall I leave off the
gag?
 
You must promise to keep quiet
after we arrive at the harbor."

The gag tasted
foul and hurt her jaw.
 
Beneath the
shift and jacket, her nipple relaxed into the humidity deposited by his
mouth.
 
"I — I promise."

He scrutinized
her before yanking the gag back in place.
 
"Promises can be extracted from many layers of sincerity, but yours
hardly scratched the surface just now.
 
Not to worry — we have at least five days at sea ahead of us, and by the
end of that time, I'll have taught you more than your wildest dreams about
sincerity."
 
He grinned.
 
"
I
promise."

After draping
the veil about her shoulders, he sat opposite, replaced his hat, and redirected
his scrutiny on Havana, moving little and saying nothing.
 
Spared his attention, Sophie clawed her way
through grief, apprehension, and terror.

Not thirty
minutes before, Jacques had sat in the carriage, cantankerous and full of
life.
 
How could he be dead without even
a shred of damning or beseeching in his last look?
 
And dear Mathias was at the harbor arranging their voyage home,
ignorant of the horror bearing down on him.
 
Aware of the double-cross, had Will and Dusseau enough sense to stay out
of sight?

What was
Arriaga plotting?
 
Where were the two
assassins?
 
Had Edward perished in the
collision between the ships?
 
If Fairfax
succeeded in escaping Havana with her, by the end of the return voyage, when he
was done with her, would she even care whether she lived or died?

The four
volantas
pulled up before the city gates.
 
Fairfax assisted her out, signaled marines to unload their gear, and
tossed the driver of their
volanta
a purse.
 
Someone dropped the parasol.
 
Fairfax scooped it up and shoved it under his arm.

While the
lieutenant paid the other drivers, David scoured Sophie from head to foot and
blasted Fairfax with a glare, intuiting everything said and done during the
carriage ride.
 
Without his gag, David
would have challenged Fairfax.
 
Fairfax
knew that.
 
Only Jacques had he wanted
to kill outright.

Bored gate
guards waved the group of fourteen through.
 
How grand of Continentals to capture spies — and the Spaniards hadn't
needed to lift a finger.
 
Clouds
scuttled over the sun.
 
A breeze picked
up in advance of a thunderstorm.

The group
tromped out to the wharf past whores and starving varmints, ships and boats,
cargo crates and boxes.
 
Through a break
in the clouds, the steamy, afternoon sun bore down on Sophie, and the smells of
tar, paint, seawater, and fish assailed her.
 
She heard French and Spanish: give me the hammer, give me the rum.
 
Strains of fiddle music wafted over the
wharf, competing with the screams of seagulls.
 
Any sailors they passed who weren't too busy or too apathetic to eye
them displayed the same expressions as the gate guards: Good of the
Continentals to have done all the work.
 
But when they marched past the
Gloria Maria
, the snatches of
merry Portuguese on deck dwindled off.
 
León, José, and Sebastião Tomás paused from their chores to gape at them
in perplexity and disbelief.

At a
dilapidated thirty-five-foot schooner, three non-Spanish sailors on deck
transferred their gear aboard.
 
Inside
the city walls, church bells pealed.
 
Had another quarter hour gone by?

David emitted a
muffled yell, his eyes bulged northward.
 
Sophie followed his gaze, helplessness flooding her at the sight of her
father and André Dusseau striding toward what they thought was a group of
Continental marines.
 
Fairfax pivoted to
present his back to the approaching men and gave Don Alejandro a knowing
smile.
 
"You see, we didn't have to
search far for St. James and Dusseau, did we?"
 
He gestured to a marine next to him.
 
"Habersham, take these two spies below, so they won't
interfere."

With a
shlick
,
a Creek arrow sliced the humid air and pierced Habersham's throat.
 
He collapsed gurgling, and everyone
gaped.
 
In the next instant, another
arrow lodged in Fairfax's right buttock.
 
He dropped the parasol.
 
"Bloody hell!"
 
After
seizing the shaft, he yanked the arrow out.