The Raider (23 page)

Alex had had new resolve when he'd entered his father's room. For the four hours he had been in there, he hadn't spoken much, just won game after game from his father. His father might have thought he wasn't manly, but he now had no doubt as to his son's intelligence.

He put his hand on the connecting door leading to Jessica's room and found it locked. Immediately, he knew something was wrong. He was out his window in a minute and found the window to her room standing open. It took only seconds to see that her room was empty.

For a moment he cursed his father for inadvertently allowing Jess to escape; he cursed the Raider; he cursed Nick for bringing him back to America; he cursed Jessica; he cursed himself; he cursed the importers of black cloth. And when he was only halfway through, he began to run. He had to row to Ghost Island, change, and then the Raider had to save Jessica.

G
ET
that relic out of here,” the young soldier yelled. Behind him, half a dozen men began to wake.

The old woman, lines on her face, her once-gaudy clothes smelling of long-dead fish, climbed down from the wagon, her hand to her back as if in pain. “You wouldn't deny an old woman a little warmth, would you?”

“You can't stay here. We're under orders of His Majesty the king.”

The old woman pushed the barrel of the man's gun out of the way and walked toward the fire, her hands stretched out toward its warmth.

The young man opened his mouth to protest, but just then, stepping down from the wagon, was a heavenly vision of a creature: a buxom beauty whose breasts were tumbling out of a loosely cut blouse.

“My goodness,” said the young woman, clutching her breasts and pushing them up while she adjusted the front of her garment.

By now all the men in the camp were awake and most of them on their feet.

The young woman tried to climb out of the wagon but her skirt caught and, to free herself, she had to lift the hem above her knees. By the time she was ready to get out of the wagon, every man except the two on guard duty was standing beneath her, arms raised to help her down.

“How kind you are,” the young woman said modestly, looking down at her audience. “But I believe you said my mother and I must leave.”

With a loud wail of protest, the men looked toward the young captain who was their commanding officer. But the light in the captain's eyes was as bright as in his men's. He stepped forward.

“We have meager warmth and coarse food, but it is yours.”

Abigail allowed herself to be helped down by the young officer, her breasts just grazing his face as she slid down his body until her feet touched the ground.

Jessica stood in the shadows and watched the little drama, played in the center of the glow of the firelight. For a few moments she was as fascinated as the men by the performance. Abigail genuinely loved her role.

As Jessica watched, Abby leaned forward at every opportunity, her loose blouse gaping, the men stupefied in their positions, unable to move a muscle. Jess had never realized a woman could have such power over men.

Jessica, fading into the shadows in the black garment Mrs. Wentworth had made her, waited until she heard the first strains of music. Mrs. Wentworth had loaded several musical instruments inside the old wagon. Her plan was to get the men involved as thoroughly as possible so Jessica could free the prisoners.

“I'll kill her,” Jess heard a man to her left say. It was Ethan's voice and he was watching his wife's first undulations as she started to dance.

“Quiet!” the guard commanded Ethan.

Jess prayed Ethan wouldn't give the game away. It was too early yet, before the men were absorbed in Abby's dance, but Jess slipped through the shadows behind the three men staked by the big oak tree. Easily, she made it safely to the oak tree and the first man whose ropes she touched had sense enough to keep his eyes on Abigail's lascivious dance. The only sign he gave that he was free was a brief nod of his head. The second man was just as easy to untie.

But Ethan was another matter. He was straining against the ropes so hard as he watched his wife dance that the ropes were tightly knotted. Jessica removed a knife from her boot and began sawing.

Perhaps it was a movement from Ethan or maybe she moved too quickly, but something alerted a guard. The soldier turned and saw a flash of moonlight on the knife blade. The two men who were free moved quickly, one of them using his doubled fists to hit the soldier's head. One man caught him before he hit the ground.

“I knew you'd come,” one of the men whispered. The music and the soldiers' cheering were getting louder.

Jessica stayed in the shadow of the tree, still sawing at Ethan's ropes. The men thought she was the Raider. “Go,” she said in her deepest voice.

Eagerly, the men slipped away into the darkness.

“Jessica Taggert!” Ethan whispered over his shoulder. “I should have known it was you. You're the instigator of this, aren't you?”

She paused in surprise.

“Don't stop, cut them!” Ethan hissed. “I can tell a woman from a man any day.” He looked back at Abigail jumping over flaming sticks a couple of men were holding. “I'm going to kill her.”

“She's doing this for you,” Jess hissed back. “There!”

The moment he was free, Ethan slipped away into the darkness. Jess stayed where she was, ready if she were needed to stop Ethan from doing something foolish.

Her attention was on Abigail and she didn't see the soldier on the ground. He was on her, pinning her body down before she was aware that he was awake. She rolled away from the knife he held but not before it had grazed her side. As she rolled, the man's hand came in contact with her breast.

“A woman,” he gasped and the next moment he had his legs between hers and his hot, wet mouth on hers.

Jessica struggled but the man was too strong for her. He pinned her hands while he fumbled with his pants.

Then, suddenly, he was still.

Jessica was still struggling when she felt the man roll off of her—or, more correctly, being pushed off of her. She blinked in the darkness to see the Raider standing over her, sword drawn.

He didn't say a word as he offered her his hand and pulled her to stand before him. She could see the hard glitter of his eyes behind his mask.

“I…we…” she began.

He caught her hand and began pulling her toward his horse.

Jess put her hand to her side and felt the bleeding but she wasn't going to complain to him.

He half helped, half shoved her onto his horse, then mounted behind her and started galloping.

As they rode, the cool wind in her face began to revive her. Here she was, riding in the moonlight, the man she loved seated behind her, his strong arms surrounding hers. It was an exhilarating moment—yet she felt strangely unsettled. Something was worrying her and she wasn't sure what. It had been a successful raid, that is, if Abby and Mrs. Wentworth got home, but still something was wrong.

She twisted in the saddle, gasping at the pain in her side. “Stop!” she demanded. “You have to stop.”

The Raider looked at her face in the dim light and pulled his horse to a halt. Immediately, his lips were on hers, kissing her face, her eyes.

“No, please,” she whispered, all the while leaning her head back to give him access to her neck. “Where are you taking me?”

“Home. To our home. To Farrier's Cove, where we can make love all night long. And then I plan to tan your hide for doing such a damn fool thing as—”

“No, please, I don't want to fight with you.”

“I don't plan to fight, Jessie, my love.”

“You have to take me home.”

“I
am
taking you home.”

“No, I mean home to Alexander.”

As she held him, the Raider felt as if a piece of steel had just shot through his spine, and his voice was as rigid as his body. “Alexander? You want to go home to that lace-encrusted, whining, cowardly ass after I just saved your life?”

Jessica felt as if she were being torn in half. She wanted to go with the Raider, even though she knew it would be an argument whether or not she slept with him, and, heaven help her, she wanted to lose the argument, but at the same time she knew she needed to go home to Alex.

“He's not been well and if he finds that I'm gone, he'll be upset.”

The Raider's eyes bore into hers. “Jess, are you in love with this man?”

“Alexander? I should think not. It's just that he gets upset and his heart isn't what it should be. Please take me to him.” Jess could feel the blood trickling down her side. Maybe it was her wound that was making her do this strange thing. Right now, the last thing she wanted was to wrestle with the Raider. What she wanted was Alexander to take care of her.

The Raider dismounted behind her, then lifted her to the ground. “I believe you know your way back,” he said coolly. “I pray no one encounters you in that disguise.” With that, he turned his horse and left her.

Jess caught her breath against the pain in her side. It was a two mile walk to the Montgomery house and she dreaded it. Each movement opened the wound again, and she could feel blood slowly flowing down her side.

The Raider had let her down at the head of an old Indian path that would lead her to the back of the Montgomery house. She walked and stumbled, rested against a tree, then walked some more.

There were tears of relief in her eyes when she saw the Montgomery house, and the window to her bedroom standing open.

It was difficult for her to enter and she was only halfway in when she saw Alex sitting there, his eyes on fire with rage.

“You'll never leave this room again, so help me God,” he began. “I'll chain you, I'll starve you, I'll—”

“Alex, help me, I'm hurt,” she managed to say and then fell forward into the room.

He caught her before she hit the floor and carried her to the bed.

“Alex,” she whispered.

Alex didn't respond, as he was tearing the clothes off her.

“Just like the Raider,” she said, smiling and at last feeling safe.

He left her, bare from the waist up, went to his room and returned with a lantern, clean bandages and a water basin. He'd removed his coat. Tenderly, he began to clean the wound at her side.

“Are you mad at me, Alex?” she asked, wincing at the pain.

He moved her to her side and washed blood from her back, her ribs, her hip.

“Alex, we
had
to do it. We couldn't let those men be taken. The admiral'd start taking
all
the men. He'd probably want Nathaniel next.”

Alex just kept cleaning and didn't answer her.

“You do see, don't you? It went just as we planned. We had no problems at all.” She halted at a sound outside. “What was that?”

“A shot,” Alex said curtly, then pushed her on her back. For all his obvious anger, he was very gentle. He lifted her upper body and began wrapping her ribs.

“Alex, at least you can admire our plan. Mrs. Wentworth was dressed—” She stopped when Alex turned away from her to fetch a clean nightgown from a chest.

“Alex, at least say
something.
You certainly seemed to have a lot to say when I first came in.”

He pulled the nightgown down over her head, laid her back on the bed, picked up her feet and began to undress the lower half of her.

“Alex, I don't think it's very kind of you to not speak to me. The Raider came at the very end of our raid and he wanted me to go away with him, but I wanted to come back here to you.”

He gave her a look she didn't understand at all, pulled the blanket over her, picked up the lantern and bloody basin, then left the room. He shut the door behind him.

Jessica lay in the dark a moment, too astonished to think. Her first thought was, What does it matter if Alexander is angry with me? She had done something that would help a whole town.

She thought back over how well the plan had gone. Then she remembered the way she'd lied to Alex about what she'd been talking about to Abby and Mrs. Wentworth.

She remembered freeing the three men, men who'd been imprisoned by the tyranny of the English. Then she thought of Alex saying that he loved her and cared about her.

She thought of the way the Raider had saved her.

But she remembered it was Alexander who she knew would take care of her wound. There were some men who were full of passion and excitement, but there were other men who took care of you when you were sick.

Holding her side stiffly so it wouldn't bleed again, she went to the connecting door and opened it. Her hand was trembling.

Alex, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, was sitting in a chair set before a window, smoking a long cigar, his eyes fixed straight ahead. He didn't turn when Jess entered. Even when she placed herself between him and the window, he didn't look at her.

“Alex, I really am sorry,” she said softly. “It was something I felt had to be done. Can't you understand that? Sometimes a person can't think of anything except what needs to be done. I didn't mean to get hurt. I didn't want to disobey you and make you worry. Your father tried to talk me out of going but I had to do it. Can't you understand?” She was pleading with him to understand. He was like Eleanor, so hurt because she hadn't done what was expected of her.

“Please, Alex,” she whispered.

At long last, he looked up at her.

Jessica saw the pain in his eyes and the hurt she'd caused him. This man's feelings were as delicate as his body.

“Alex.” She held out her hands to him.