Seaswept Abandon (The McClellans Series, Book 2) Author's Cut Edition

by Jo Goodman

  "What are you doing to me?" she asked on a hushed breath as he pulled her to her feet. "What is it you want?"

  His head lifted and his mouth hovered above hers. "You... only you."

  His words, not his mouth, touched Rae's lips, but it felt like the sweetest kiss she had ever known. When Jericho banished the distance that separated them, Rae's lips answered the gentle probe of his mouth and savored the heady, intimate pleasure.

  Rae's response lightened Jericho's heart. He was certain she would listen to him now, and perhaps if she could not agree with him, she would still promise to wait for him. That was all he really wanted, her word that she would not bind herself to another while he was gone.

  "Red? I lo—" In the same moment he was wondering why she was preparing to scream, Jericho felt a great weight descend upon his head. His vision blurred, his knees buckled, and the last thing he saw was a gloved hand covering Rae's mouth so that her scream had no sound. No sound at all.

  Rae fought wildly against the wiry strength of the man who held her, but she could not escape his grasp. Two men stood in front of her, impassively watching her struggle with her captor. Another bent over Jericho, satisfying himself and his companions that there would be no resistance from that quarter. The features of the men she could see were obscured by shadow.

  They all wore cocked hats tipped forward on their heads. But the identity of the man who held her was never a mystery. His size, the peculiar smell of clothes long in need of washing, and a sly chuckle in her ear, warned Rae it was Sam Judge who kept her pinned flush to his body.

  Kicking behind her, Rae at last landed a painful blow to his shin. Judge's hand slipped from her mouth, and because she saw it was useless to scream for Jericho, she cried out for her brothers. "Saaa—leeemm! Nooo—"

  One of the men in front of her shoved a dirty, greasy rag into her mouth. Rae tried to push it out, but a scarf was tied roughly around her head to keep the gag in place. Her hair tangled painfully in the knot at the back of her head, and in short order the muff was flung aside and her hands were bound with a small length of rope.

  Sam Judge still held her tightly by the waist, and when he spoke to his companions Rae felt some satisfaction that he was out of breath. "Didn't Sam Judge tell you it was them what was sittin' there as pretty as you please?"

  "Aye, you did, Sam," said the man leaning over Jericho. "Heard him call her Ashley as clear as a bell, and she be yellin' for him now like she think we kilt him."

  "Sure, I did. Jest the way I told you we would be fools not to do something about the papers we found aboard the Marion. Didn't Sam Judge also say that privateerin' would pay sooner or later?"

  "You said that, too, Sam," one of them replied good-naturedly. "Didn't expect our fortune in quite this way, though."

  "Yeah," said the third. "I never thought our bounty would be this beauty. But we still have to collect on her. Reckon that duke fellow will pay the ransom?"

  Rae's eyes shot from man to man, thoroughly confused by their conversation. That they had been sent by Nigel Lynne no longer seemed clear. Privateers, they called themselves. Rae called them pirates.

  "He'll pay," Sam Judge said certainly. "Wasn't he goin' to pay that limey bloke you shot to bring her to him?" He shrugged. "Why should he care who has her as long as he gets her in the end? For a fair price, too, says I. C'mon, let's get her in the skiff." One of the men grabbed Rae by her ankles while Sam slipped his arms beneath her shoulders. Rae renewed her struggle and received naught but bruises from her effort.

  "What about this one?"

  Sam paused, grunting low when Rae, panicking that they might kill Jericho, slammed her head backward into his chest. "Jest a moment. Drop her legs, Wendell, and help her stand."

  Wendell? Rae thought giddily as she was allowed to stand. What sort of name was that for a pirate?

  "Now give her a good clip," Sam Judge said, still holding her arms.

  Obviously it was a fine name for a scurvy bastard, Rae decided as Wendell's fist gave her a powerful chuck on the chin.

  Rae slumped in Sam's arms. "God, she's a pain in the arse. Jest like the rest of her sex. Now, about her husband. We'll take him, I think. He looks like he can pull his weight on board, and after that scuffle with the Marion an extra hand won't be amiss."

  "There was nothing in that bloke's things that said anything about money for this 'un," Wendell pointed out. "And he could be a troublemaker."

  "How much trouble is he goin' to cause while we got her?" Sam asked, hoisting Rae's limp form over his shoulder. "Oh, hell, I don't care, do what you want. Jest as soon kill him as look at him."

  Wendell shrugged, picking up Rae's muff. "Jud. Hank. Bring him along. Sam's right about needing the extra man."

  Jud and Hank lifted Jericho between them and followed the others to the skiff that was hidden a few hundred feet downstream. The snowfall was heavier now and their tracks were covered in minutes of their passing. The boat rocked as they settled in, and there was no gentle handling for Rae and certainly none for Jericho. Both of them were deposited like so much baggage between seats on the skiff as Sam pushed away from the bank.

  "Take off his cloak, Jud, and give it a pitch over in them rocks. And Wendell, git yer nose out of that damn furry thing and toss it out. It'll give their parents somethin' to think about when they come up missin'. Plenty of time will be lost while they drag the river."

  By the time the landing's bell and cannon sounded the alarm, calling servants and neighbors to join the search, the party of pirates and captives was well on its way to the safety of their ship.

  Chapter 8

  Jericho came to awareness by slow degrees. First there was the unrelenting pounding of his head that made him wish he were still unconscious. Next he noticed one side of his face was resting against something soft and fragrant. Rae's scent, he thought groggily. She always smelled as fresh as sunlight after a summer rain. He smiled sleepily and nestled closer, but the movement only increased the thundering in his head, and he groaned. There were fingers stroking his temple, tracing his hairline, and they stilled abruptly at the sound.

  "Jericho?" It was a whispered uncertainty, as if she were loath to wake him, but could not help herself.

  "Mm." It was the best he could do.

  The fingers brushed his cheek, then continued to thread in his hair. "I was so afraid they'd killed you."

  He was very much afraid they had. There was something about his present situation that was very dreamlike. "Did they hurt you?"

  Rae was glad for the inky darkness that kept him from seeing what was surely a magnificent bruise on her cheek and chin. Her wrists were raw from where she had worked free of the binding ropes, and her mouth still tasted like the cloth that had gagged her. By morning she hoped the swelling would be gone. "No." She felt his shoulders relax, and tears welled in her eyes but did not fall. He could not even lift his head, and still his first concern was for her. She sniffed.

  "Are you crying, Red?"

  "No."

  He smiled weakly. What a dreadful little liar she was. "Do you know where we are?"

  She shook her head then realized it hardly communicated anything to Jericho. "No. I mean I know we're on a ship. But I don't know where. They blindfolded me," she invented so he wouldn't know she had been unconscious when they brought her on board. "They took us down river on a skiff, then put us here. We haven't been here long; they're just getting ready to set sail."

  Jericho moaned and tried to sit up, but Rae's soft hands stopped him. "We have to get—"

  "No," she told him sharply. "There is nothing we can do now. A guard is in the companionway, the door is locked, and there are no portholes in this room. There is nothing that can be used as a weapon, in fact, I think we are the only things in here. It would appear we are deep in the belly of the ship. I don't doubt it will be difficult to know when daylight is upon the rest of the world."

  "God!" This was his worst nightmare. Jericho's hands trembled and his t
ongue touched a salty bead of perspiration on his upper lip. Beneath him the ship heaved as the anchor was finally lifted and the sails caught wind. He clutched Rae's skirt and his eyes squeezed shut.

  Rae sensed Jericho's panic and grew fearful herself. "What is it, Jericho? What's wrong?"

  "Hold me, Red." His voice shook.

  It startled Rae that he should sound so young, so pathetically like a child awakened in the middle of the night from a bad dream. She did not hesitate to provide whatever reassurance he required. Even though she was cold, she slipped out of her pelisse and covered him, wondering when his cape had disappeared. Bending forward, she hugged him, sliding her hands along his back in soothing strokes. Her lips rested near his ear and she whispered that she was there, holding him forever if need be.

  The ship rolled in an even rhythm that reminded her of the sleepy movements of a rocking chair. She placed a tender kiss on Jericho's temple. His soft hair tickled her lips, and she smiled. Yellow hair as fine as a babe's, she thought, and a voice as pure as youth. For the moment she was the mother, he the child. She didn't mind at all.

  When Jericho woke again it was the memory of his panic and not the thrumming in his head that caused him discomfort. In truth, he held to the opinion the injury to his head was not worth a comment. He had some difficulty sitting up because Rahab was slumped over him, deeply asleep. Gingerly he moved her and saw to her comfort, reddening to the roots of his hair when he realized she had given up her pelisse for him. She snuggled into the fur-lined cape, and he was satisfied he had done as well as he could by her.

  He had no idea if it was day or night, though he suspected it was still the latter. The guard in the companionway was now in possession of a lantern. A thin stream of yellow light illuminated the outline of the door to their prison, as well as a few narrow cracks in the wall. It was sufficient for Jericho's eyes to adjust and allow him to see Rae's profile. Quietly, so as not to alert the guard, Jericho paced off the room and found it to be tiny beyond his imaginings. He estimated the length at eight feet and the width a toe under seven. He leaned against a wall until he was able to breathe without struggling, and his heart resumed a normal rhythm.

  Slowly he raised his hand and knew a little relief when only the tips of his fingers touched the ceiling. That, then, was something to be thankful for. The room was as grim as Rae had described. The plankings were solid, the beams tight. No weapons to be had there. Jericho noticed there was not a chamber pot or even a loose bed of straw. It bothered him no small amount that there was no modest way of relieving oneself, but Rahab would be mortified, and that bothered him even more.

  He blamed himself bitterly for falling so easily into Nigel Lynne's trap. He had never considered that Sam Judge might be lurking on the McClellan property after delivering the duke's packet. Admit it, Smith, if you had thought it, you still would not have believed he could take you so easily. But then you forgot what being in Red's arms did to your upperworks. Hell, it was hardly fair to place any of their grave predicament at Rahab's feet. She was bearing the strain of their capture far better than he.

  "Come to bed, Jericho."

  He had to smile. She sounded so wifely, and he heard her pat the unyielding floorboards as if making a soft spot for him in a feather tick. He levered himself away from the wall and hunkered beside her. "Are you certain this is proper?" he asked with teasing solemnity.

  "Quite certain. Listen: 'Since in a bed a man and maid May bundle and be chaste, It doth no good to burn up wood; It is a needless waste. '"

  Jericho nearly gave a shout of laughter. Rae was dear beyond words. He could think of no one, man or woman, who could take the heaviness from his shoulders as simply as she did. "Never say your papa quoted that broadside while you dandled on his knee."

  "Papa? Heavens no!" Rae pretended shock. "It was Mama. She was raised in New England, you know, and believes that thrift will bring one closer to the angels."

  He chuckled. "Then by all means, let us bundle." He slid beneath the pelisse as Rae lifted it for him. Rae curled into him, resting her head on the curve of his shoulder, and wrapped one arm about his chest.

  For some time Jericho merely relished the closeness, wishing the circumstances differed. "I'm sorry this happened. Red," he said after a while.

  She nodded. "I know."

  "I don't have a plan for removing us from this situation."

  "It's only been hours. We'll think of something."

  "We," she had said, and Jericho warmed to that. "It is Judge who took us, isn't it?"

  "Yes. And three others. Of course, there are many more men aboard this vessel. How long before we reach England?"

  "Six weeks, if they take the northern course and use the Westerlies to their advantage. Did they mention the duke?"

  "It's the strangest thing, Jericho, but I don't think they are in Nigel's employ." Rae recounted the conversation she had heard. "What do you make of it?"

  Jericho's face remained impassive as he thought. "I think they've stumbled upon something they would better be rid of. It sounds as if the duke's man was on board the Marion when Judge and his crew raided it. Somehow they discovered Ashley was worth money. It explains why Sam Judge so easily accepted you were your sister-in-law. That was the one thing I couldn't understand. If the duke had hired him, Judge would have had a description of her."

  "I never thought of that."

  "Your brothers and I did. We thought he might be no more than a messenger, after all. I caught the briefest glimpse of him after I was felled, and I remember thinking how foolish I had been. What did they use to clobber me?"

  "The butt of a pistol."

  "Why did they bring me?"

  She shivered. "I don't know. They dragged me away," she lied again. "I don't know their reasoning. Perhaps Nigel wanted Salem also."

  "Nigel wants Salem dead. I don't know why I'm not."

  "Please don't talk that way. You're frightening me."

  He stroked her hair. It had come loose from its pins and hung freely about her neck and shoulders. "There are certain things we have to face, none of them pleasant. I'd rather we spoke of them now, in the event we are separated. Do you understand me, Red?"

  "Yes."

  "It is unlikely that Nigel will pay a ransom for you, and we know he won't for me. But it is no good telling Sam Judge that; our lives would be ended here and Ashley and Salem would be in danger once again. Our best hope for safety lies in letting Sam and his men believe in their mistake. In addition, we must make them understand that Nigel will not part with his blunt if you are harmed in any way." Jericho stressed the last so Rahab could not doubt his meaning.

  "I know. I have thought on it, too. If they touch me..." She cringed, unable to finish her thought aloud.

  "Listen! Sam Judge is possessed of a shrewd and canny mind. I think he will agree you are not to be hurt."

  Rae thought of her disfigured cheek, but remained silent. She knew that Jericho would do all that was in his power to protect her.

  "For now our task is to survive this voyage," he said calmly. "Once we reach English shores, then mayhap there is a chance of escape. If none exists, we will make our own. We are survivors, you and I."

  Rae thought he was; she was not certain about herself. Desperate for assurance, she moved restlessly against him. He seemed to understand her need, for his arms tightened around her and his fingers in her hair softly stroked her nape.

  "Love me, Jericho."

  Since the thought had been in his own mind, he was not startled by her request. Lying with her now seemed the most natural affirmation that they were alive and bound to each other. It would mock their fears; it would be an act of defiance in the face of their despair. He hesitated. For him, at least, it would also be an act of great love. Though she used the word, he doubted its truth. He did not want her to come to him for any reason less than love. "Why?"

  His question startled Rae. She turned, lifting her head, and strained to see his face in the darkness. "I did
not ask 'why' when you turned to me for comfort," she said. "I simply gave it."

  His breath caught. His panic was only hours old, and he remembered every moment of it with painful clarity. He strove for calm. "Can you not see this is different? You are not asking only to be held."

  "I was asking you to love me," she whispered. A bitter ache in her throat made it difficult to talk. "Just love me. Can it be so hard for you to pretend?"

  Jericho's eyes widened as he realized she had misunderstood. Still holding her in his embrace, he turned her so that she lay partially beneath him. His face was very close to hers. "Pretend, Rae? It is not pretend at all." He thought he heard her give a tiny gasp, then his mouth touched hers and another sort of sound, a sound of pleasure, was what he heard.

  His fingers stroked her face, relearning its lines in the dark. "What is this?" he asked roughly when he touched her swollen cheek.

  "I tripped when I was getting in the skiff. It is nothing."

  He kissed the bruised area very gently, butterfly wings brushing her face. Soft kisses traced the slender column of her neck. Rae's fingers wound in Jericho's hair, holding her to him as she felt his hands on her breasts. The barrier of their clothes was a frustration that had to be borne. In spite of their need, neither was unaware of the possibility that they might be intruded upon. The thought that their time was so precious heightened their desire.

  Rae lifted her skirts for Jericho as his knee nudged her thighs. His hand slipped beneath her pantalettes and rolled them downward, his palm hot on her abdomen and hip, and finally on the soft triangle of hair at her thighs.

  Rae's fingers fumbled with the buttons on Jericho's breeches, and her hands slipped beneath the material to touch him. He whispered something in her ear that she could not make out, but sounded like encouragement, as her hand closed around him. The kiss he centered on her mouth was hot and bruising, and Rae accepted it greedily, finding pleasure in his fevered desire for her.