Rebel Dreams (48 page)

Shouts of anger and the pounding of feet down the
companionway finally distracted them. Thomas cursed and flung open the door. He
blanched and instantly dragged Evelyn in front of him. Alex in a black fury
loomed in the doorway, pistol in hand.

Evelyn had never loved him more than she did now. She wanted
to cry in relief and fling her arms around him, but she recognized the danger.
This was stalemate. Henderson’s strong arm crushed her waist as she gazed
beyond the barrel of the pistol into the miracle of her husband’s dark face.
She didn’t know how Alex could possibly have found her, but she was ecstatic
that he had. Now all she had to do was rid herself of the worm holding a knife
to her side. She hadn’t known Thomas had a knife.

“I trust you brought the papers, Hampton.” The lawyer said,
with his usual air of cool control.

“You’ll get nothing while you have my wife in your hands,
Henderson. Let her go.”

Evelyn recognized the barely leashed fury in Alex’s voice,
but Thomas seemed impervious to it. He spoke as if he had complete control of
the situation. “Just keep out of my way, Hampton, and you can have her back.
She’s a shrew of the worst sort, always has been. You deserve her. All I ask is
a fair exchange, my freedom for your wife.”

“You don’t honestly believe I’ll let you get away with this?”
Alex growled, his gaze shifting from the position of the knife at Evelyn’s
belly to Henderson.

Rory came to stand beside Alex, rapidly assessing the
situation. “Stand back, Alex, and let the man pass,” he said gruffly.

To Evelyn’s surprise, Alex did as told. Henderson glanced
suspiciously past Alex, blanching at the number of hostile faces beyond.

“I think not, Hampton,” the lawyer said, pricking Evelyn
with the knife. “Clear your cronies out of here. Bring me the papers and a
pardon for any additional charges. I’ll keep your wife until I have the documents
in my hand and the ship is granted free passage from these waters. Then you can
have her back.”

Evelyn impatiently gave Henderson a scathing glare. “That is
ridiculous. You’d do better to face the charges of smuggling than kidnapping.
The evidence isn’t all that damning or I would never have agreed to see you in
the first place. You’d quite likely get off free. Now, put that knife down and
let me go. You’re hurting my arm.”

Several of the onlookers chuckled at her sharp tones. No one
backed away.

“Talk to your husband, not to me,” Henderson sneered. “I’m
perfectly willing to release you. But I have no desire to have my head blown
off in the course of things. Tell them to go away, and you’ll be fine.”

Alex peremptorily gestured for the others to leave. Rory
hesitated.

Alex glared. “We have Yankee smugglers mingling with Navy
officers and British noblemen up there. Someone had better keep an eye on them.”

“And a Scot to rule them all,” Rory scoffed. With a last
backward wink at Evelyn, he departed.

“Give me my wife, Henderson,” Alex thundered. “You can rot
in hell for all I care. You can steal the whole damn country blind. I don’t
care what you do. But I’m not taking my eyes off of you until you release
Evelyn.”

Evelyn squirmed, looking for some leverage, but the knife
was too close to the precious child within. She could only listen helplessly to
the casting of dice.

Henderson desperately made one last offer. “Go in front of
me and I’ll follow. When we reach the deck, clear your men off the ship, bring
me the packet and a pardon, and I’ll release her. We’ll all be in plain view.
No one will come to any harm.”

“Put that knife away and I’ll agree.” Alex clamped his teeth
and clenched his fists.

Evelyn held her breath, praying the lawyer would agree.

“Get over on that side where you can lead the way, and I’ll
do it,” he finally decided.

Alex nodded, stepped toward the companionway, and turned to
make certain Henderson kept his word. The lawyer returned the knife to its
sheath, and holding Evelyn’s arm behind her back, pushed her along in front of
him as a shield.

The corridor was too narrow for her to fight, and the stairs
too dangerous. She stalked upward in a fury, into the bright light of day. She
shut her eyes briefly to steady herself against the glare and wished for the
cloak. The wind blowing off the water cut through layers of velvet and
petticoats.

When she opened her eyes again, she stared awestruck at the flotilla
of ships and boats Alex had commanded. For the first time in days, a smile replaced
her fear. Alex had finally earned and commanded the respect he so deserved.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” she said impishly to the motley array
of men on deck. She distanced herself as much as possible from Henderson now
that no knife held her back. “I wish Alex and I could entertain you more nobly,
but you have caught us unprepared. Perhaps if you’ll stop by Cranville House in
a few days, we’ll better entertain you, but I do thank you for coming.”

A few solemn faces broke into grins. These men might be
afraid, but she wasn’t. Not any longer. Alex was here. Evelyn turned her
expectant gaze up to her husband.

She could see his shock at her trust. As he recognized the
freedom she gave him to act in his own way, the love and pride in his eyes
blazed boldly.

“Rory, take the men back to the ships,” he ordered. “Write
out the pardon he requests, have the captain witness it. Summerville and I will
sign it.” Alex kept his gaze focused on his foe. “I’ll not leave until Evelyn
is released, so you’ll need bring the paper here for me to sign.”

Reluctantly, Rory led their army to the rails and the
waiting armada.

“Tell them to take your weapons, Hampton,” Henderson
suggested, “and I’ll be a good deal more comfortable. Your wife might
appreciate the benefit of that.”

In his nervousness, he twisted Evelyn’s arm so tightly that
she paled with pain. Alex signaled for the Marquess of Summerville to take his
weapons, then held out his hand to Henderson. “To be fair about this, your
knife too.”

Henderson surrendered it reluctantly. The marquess glanced
at Alex, but at Alex’s nod, he too departed. Evelyn knew they had worked
together in the Lords and trusted each other’s judgment. Alex was unaccustomed
to giving his friendship easily, but she could tell from her husband’s look of relief
that the marquess had an ally for life, should they survive this disaster.

Henderson’s hold on Evelyn relaxed, but she still provided a
shield from Alex’s fury. He refused to release her completely.

She had the urge to yank her arm away and kick her captor
again, but she read the warning in Alex’s eyes. He planned something. She would
wait. It was much better working with him than against him—or on her own.

Perhaps her husband’s interests would keep him occupied for
most of their days, but she knew now she could always count on him when she
needed him—and she could rely on him not to interfere when she did not. Evelyn thrilled
with the freedom of this thought and met his gaze with elation.

Alex held out his hand, his gaze not veering from hers. “Now,
Evelyn.”

At his word, she fell forward, catching Henderson by
surprise. His balance upset, he loosened his grip to right himself.

Evelyn yanked free and immediately grabbed Alex’s hand. He
pulled her behind him. In the same motion, Alex swung his fist. At hearing a
satisfactory crunch against the lawyer’s jaw, Evelyn fled to the safety of the
railing. Rory instantly clambered up the ropes, sword in hand to protect her
from Henderson’s crew.

Evelyn’s fear wasn’t for herself but for Alex. His blows
were cold and calculated, driving Henderson backward. The lawyer narrowly
missed stumbling down the companionway. He caught himself against the bulwark
and slid to the side before regaining his feet. Alex was upon him in an instant,
his fist slamming into Henderson’s abdomen with a force sufficient to send his
opponent rolling toward the railing.

More men scrambled back to the deck, Navy officers beside
smugglers, forming a protective wall around this private battle.

Evelyn clung to Rory’s arm as Henderson grasped a barrel and
heaved it at Alex, then grabbed for an ax hanging on the bulwark. Alex stopped
the barrel with his foot and rolled it back at his opponent. The solid oak
caught the lawyer, tumbling him backward before he could fully grasp the
weapon.

Henderson was the smaller man and no match for Alex’s rage.
Evelyn wanted to hide her eyes as Alex bore down on his victim with relentless
blows. Flinging up his arms to protect his face, Thomas slid closer to the
railing. Evelyn shouted a warning as he rolled with a punch and grabbed a
length of rope, pulling it taut across Alex’s path.

Alex tripped but with the grace of a born sailor, landed on
his hands. In one swift motion, he grabbed Henderson’s foot and they both slid
across the deck.

Henderson kicked and gained his feet. Before Alex could roll
away, Thomas swung a barrel lid at his head. Alex dodged, and the force of
Henderson’s swing sent him stumbling backward into the railing.

The rotten railing of the neglected smuggling sloop cracked
with a snap. Evelyn covered her gasp with both hands as Thomas tried to fling
himself away from the rail. But the ship lurched, and the weathered wood split
beneath his weight. With a cry, he sprawled backward into the depths of the
water below.

Alex wasn’t among those who rushed to the railing to throw
out ropes and lower dinghies to rescue the man overboard. With a look of
purpose, he stalked toward her.

Evelyn released Rory’s arm and waited, her heart in her
throat. He had told her not to see Henderson again. He had shown her the reason
why. And still she had defied him. Whatever punishment he meted out, she
deserved, but more than anything, she wanted to be in his arms again.

She held herself straight and proudly as he came to her, but
Alex ignored her haughty stance. With a groan he caught her up in his embrace
and buried his face in her hair and held her tight against him.

“Damned Yankee rebel, I’ll have you clamped in chains for
this,” he growled against her hair as she locked her hands behind his neck.

Evelyn turned her face up to his and kissed him with
fierceness. With wonder, she felt the hot moisture of his tears blend with
hers, and she clung to him as if she were drowning.

Rory’s cough intruded upon their reunion. Reluctantly Alex
settled his wife on her feet again, while keeping her close against his side.
He might never let her out of his sight again.

“They’ve hauled Henderson out and the navy has him in
custody. I don’t think he’ll be causing any more problems in the immediate
future. Do you wish to go ashore by way of the navy or my friends down there?”
Rory nodded in the direction of the small vessel preparing to disembark.

Alex raised a languid eyebrow. “I’ll refrain from telling
Alyson of your questionable choice in friends if you’ll find me the first ship
bound for Boston. The Yankee and I are taking a little voyage—sans family.
Deal?”

Rory began to grin. “Deal. I know just the ship. Would you
be visiting the West Indies while you’re there?”

“Wait a minute!” Wide-eyed, Evelyn glared at them. “Why
Boston? Are you trying to be rid of me, Alexander Hampton? Because it won’t
work, you know.”

Alex beamed at her lovely but irate countenance. “I thought
you would wish to be the first to give your rebel friends the news. They won.
The tax is dead. There will be months of circumlocutions yet, but for all
intents and purposes, your colonial hotheads won the war without a battle.”

Joy spread across her face. “You did it! You really did it!
Oh, Alex, I love you!” She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him
soundly. Before Rory could be embarrassed again, she promptly released Alex
and, hands on hips, announced, “We had better leave immediately before I am too
large to travel.”

Rory’s whoop of laughter drew the attention of all around
them. When the earl swung his Yankee countess into his arms and marched her
toward the waiting ship, a roar of approval rocked the motley flotilla
occupying Plymouth harbor.

April 1766

The round of cannon shot echoed through the spring evening
air, followed by a tumult of screams, shouts, ringing bells, and shotgun fire.
The crowd beneath the Liberty Tree surged forward in a wave of motion that
flooded the street.

Alex drew Evelyn into the safety of a nearby doorway, clamping
his arm beneath her breasts. He rested his other hand protectively over the
slight rounding of her abdomen. Evelyn had abandoned stays, panniers, heavy
petticoats, and silks in favor of simple cotton and chemise this night, and he
could feel every curve of her lithe figure.

“I suppose you wish to follow them too,” he murmured against
her ear as the crowd streamed toward the State House.

“They say they’ve built a huge pyramid covered with all
kinds of figures, even the king and queen, although I hear Sam Adams ranks
higher. And there are hundreds of lamps all over it, and fireworks up on top.
You’ll never see anything like it in London.”

“There are many things I’ve never seen in London, but I’m
not disposed to battle mobs to find them. Those are guns they are firing out
there. And do you have any idea what happens to fireworks when they come in
contact with hundreds of lamps? Do all Yankees like to celebrate dangerously?”

Evelyn laughed and rubbed suggestively against him. “We do
everything dangerously. That’s the kind of world we live in.”

“I shall remember that.” Alex turned her around and wrapped
his hand in the thick wave of hair pouring over her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled
with delight, and the flags, people, and illuminations behind her provided an
ideal setting. She belonged here in this simple and half-savage world. Silks
and lace and powdered hair had no place in this country. Wistfully he wrapped
his hand in her loosely bound hair. “You are happy now?”