by Diana Ballew
His hand slipped from the brass doorknob, as his aunt’s words registered in his head with the subtlety of a bolt of lightning. He spun on the heel of his boot and faced her. “Confide in you about what condition?”
Aunt Martha’s eyes grew so wide they looked like they could pop right out of her head. “You mean you don’t know?” She leaned against the wall and moaned. “Oh, Rayce, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but she must have had some reason to keep it from you. Eden...well, she’s with child, I’m sure of it.”
Her words came at him in slow motion. She’s with child. “What?” he mouthed.
“You told me you planned to make an honest woman of her after you both returned to the manor, but honey, that time is now. She’s with child, my boy, and I’ll tell you, that poor girl has had a time of it with queasiness. She thought Eliza and I didn’t hear her all those mornings and sometimes even at night, but we did. She’s out there now, Lord knows where in this storm at night, and she’s with child, Rayce, and I’m worried sick!”
He thought back to Eden’s exhaustion, her loss of weight, and how she’d only pick at her food. Now, she felt lusciously ripe and curvy, her breasts full and firm, and she ate like a horse.
Oh, Lord, how did he not see this himself? More importantly, why hadn’t she told him? The ring in his coat pocket he had purchased earlier in the day suddenly felt a lot heavier. For now, the questions he had for Eden would need to be pushed aside.
He put his hands on Aunt Martha’s shoulders. “I will find her,” he said decisively. “Can you think of anything else—any other details?”
“No, nothing important. I know she was excited to see a couple of the other soldiers she’d grown fond of. She was bringing some of Eliza’s cookies to Private Sam Hollack and.” She paused and tapped her chin in thought, then went on. “Oh, yes, and to Private Robert Tracey, and I think—”
“Did you say Robert Tracey? Private Robert Tracey—from North Carolina?” He dropped his arms to his sides.
“Yes...yes, that’s him. Yes, from North Carolina. I can’t remember what company and regiment she said he’s with. But he’d been so kind to her and loved listening to her stories. Rayce, dear, what’s wrong? You look as white as a ghost.”
That son of a bitch!
Chapter 21
“Quit squirming—you’re just making it worse on yourself,” Robert barked, pacing around the room. “I don’t want to hurt you, but don’t test me.”
Eden wrangled with the ropes on her wrists and lower legs, keeping her bound to the wooden chair in the center of the basement room.
“I told you, stop that squirming. You’re going to give yourself some wicked rope burns.”
“You’ll never get away with this,” she sneered, glaring back at him. Her wrists were already beginning to burn where the rope had dug into her skin, slicing like a dull knife.
“And don’t even think about screaming, or I’ll cover your mouth, too.”
Eden’s gaze darted around the large, near-empty basement in the old warehouse. The room felt cold and damp, and she could hear a steady drip of water on the dirt floor from a nearby leak. Old wooden crates stood stacked in the corner, and empty liquor bottles littered the ground. A tall spittoon and another wooden chair next to a small table were all that filled the room.
“He’s bound to find me eventually, you know.”
Robert marched over to her and bent down, looking directly into her eyes. “I know. And like I told you already, you’re going be the bait that helps me capture that big fish of yours.”
“How can you be so sure he’ll know to find me here, anyway?”
His eyes narrowed. “Because both sides are very aware of each other; that’s how good we are at what we do. It’s like a game of chess, Miss Eden.”
“It’s Miss Blair to you!” she snapped. “How can you compare what you do to a game of chess? I can’t believe I thought fondly of you—you traitor.”
His faced turned beet red. “Being a traitor depends on what side of the war you’re on, wouldn’t you say?”
“Abducting a woman and holding her captive is a crime, you swine. I hope when this is over you rot in jail. Better yet, I hope you’re hanged.”
He gnawed on his bottom lip and sighed. “I changed my mind, little lady. Feel free to scream when you see him. That way the poor bastard will be distracted, and I can take care of him without him seeing it coming.” He pulled a knife from the back of his trousers and began cleaning his fingernails.
“Just who are you?” She glared at him from head to toe. “Your accent is suddenly gone, Private Robert Tracey,” she said, exaggerating each syllable in his name. “You have the sharp tongue of a vulgar Yankee.”
“Let’s just say, I’m your major’s counterpart, from the opposite side.”
“Well, you’re nothing like him. There’s no way you could ever be the man he is. If it weren’t for him, this war would have been over and the city taken over by the likes of you filthy Yanks.”
He bent low and placed his fists on both sides of the chair next to her skirt, his hateful eyes only inches from hers. She could feel the deep anger stirring within him from her harsh, accusatory words.
“You go ahead and tell yourself that, Miss Blair. I assure you, your Major Hampton is no saint, either. There’s more to him than you’ll ever know.” He stood up and rubbed at the tension in his fists. “He does what he must to complete his missions, and I do what I must.”
“So, you’re saying your mission is to kidnap a woman? Tie her up and hold her captive? He would never need to stoop so low.”
“My mission is to stop Major Rayce Hampton, at all costs!” he shouted.
“You’re a coward, and you’ll never be a hero to anyone.”
He raised a hand in the air, ready to slap her face. She flinched in anticipation of the impact, when they suddenly heard footsteps coming down the stairwell. The basement door opened and in walked a disheveled soldier in a Confederate uniform. When he saw her, he took off his cap and smoothed his oily hair with his chubby paw.
“Ah, so you got her? Good job, Archie.” The man plodded in and set some papers on the table.
“Yeah, I got her,” Archie said, annoyed. “She’s feisty, with a hot temper; so keep your eyes on her. She’d slice you open if given the chance.”
The man scratched his head. “Too bad she’s a hostage. I like my women like that.” Both men laughed as they turned to talk in private.
Eden listened and was able to make out bits and pieces of their conversation. “McClellan furious. Pinkerton’s men. Spies.” She wiggled her legs, trying to loosen the ropes while they talked. “Must take him out once and for all.” Their words were like a blow to her chest, and a wave of nausea threatened. “They’re going to kill him,” she whispered.
She turned her head from side to side, searching the room. What to do. The only option she could think of would be to somehow loosen the ropes and flee.
I can’t let this happen to him.
She could hear rain falling outside and the low rumbles of thunder echoing against the desolate streets. In between the sporadic flashes of lightning, she could see darkness outside from an alley window to the basement. By now, Rayce likely knew she was missing, and Eliza and Aunt Martha would be beside themselves with worry. She rubbed her calves together, feeling a little give in the knot while she tried to loosen the rope on her wrists.
“Yeah, she’s a hellcat for sure, that one. I can tell by those scorching green eyes,” the man said, peering around the corner. He waved a finger at her. “Now, you behave yourself. No funny business, you hear?”
Eden glared back at him, her fingernails digging into the rope binding her wrists.
“Well, Archie, or I mean, ‘Robert Tracey’.” He snickered and looked back at Eden. “I’ll check in with the men who’ve been tailing him and be back in a bit. The guy’s been all over the city today, but last I heard he stopped in at the Spotswood. Just keep a watch out
in case he gets here before I get back.”
“I got it covered.”
The man replaced his cap, trudged up the stairs, and was gone.
“So, your real name is Archie, is it?” Eden asked.
“Mmm-hmm,” Archie mumbled absently, busy unfolding the papers the other man had left.
She wiggled her wrists and ankles while his eyes were fixed on what appeared to be maps of some kind. She felt the rope on her lower legs loosen, and she had to catch herself to keep from gasping aloud.
Oh, Lord. She had to keep him distracted. If the rope slipped far enough down her boot, he would see it under the hem of her skirt.
“Excuse me, Archie...it is Archie, yes?”
“What?” He looked at her with vague interest. “Yeah, what of it?”
“I’m in need of some water. I’m afraid I’m very parched and feel rather dizzy.” She coughed.
He cocked his head and studied her for a long moment. “I don’t trust you, Miss Blair. Wish I did; but I don’t. When the others get here, I’ll get you some water.” He turned away, studying the papers again.
“If I don’t get some water, I daresay I might just faint.” She felt a lump form in her throat as she tried her best to stay perfectly still. If the loosened rope around her legs slipped any more, it could fall to the dirt with a heavy thud.
Archie rapped his fingernails on the table and sighed in exasperation. “Good Lord, fine. Anything to stop your chattering. Can’t you see I’m busy?”
He marched over to her and bent low—his lips so close to hers she could feel the scratch of his stiff mustache on her upper lip. She slammed her eyes shut.
“And if you try anything—ANYTHING at all, I promise, you won’t live to tell about it.”
Her eyes bolted wide when she heard his departing footsteps. Quickly, she let the rope slide from her calves and drop on her boot tips. She wiggled her feet until she was free of the rope, and with her heel, she swiftly brushed it underneath the chair and out of view.
No need to go to Chimborazo or Winder Hospitals. Rayce knew right where she would be.
Everything that had happened today was beginning to make sense. He had spotted the usual tails on him at various times throughout recent days, but today they had been more persistent. Finding a way to lose them proved more challenging, demanding more of his attention than ever before.
After changing out of his uniform at the Spotswood Hotel, he had been careful to exit through the rear and out of their view, but getting back to Joseph and the carriage took more time than he had planned. He had not seen them for hours and now he knew why.
Clearly, the traitors had figured out a different approach. Archibald Cox, masquerading as Private Robert Tracey. Apparently, after winning her trust, the perfect opportunity had presented itself when he found Eden alone.
Rayce hoped the note he had left at his first stop would get to the appropriate party in time. If not, he would likely have to take care of the situation himself. He’d done just that many times before—improvise, but never had the life of the woman he loved been on the line—the life of his woman and his child.
Lord. He shook his head at the thought. He had certainly never been in this mess before. As crazy as everything was with the wretched, lingering war, and the threat presented to him now, he had never been happier in his life, and he owed it all to Eden. He’d be damned to Hell if he would let anyone harm a hair on her beautiful head or that of their unborn child.
He raised the collar on his coat and walked swiftly toward the boarded up building.
A provocatively dressed woman with smudged pink circles for cheeks exited an alley door in front of him. Loud music blasted through the door, then died out when the door slammed shut behind her. She cocked her head and watched as he approached. He tugged the brim of his hat over his brows and lowered his head as he quickly passed by.
“Hey ya Mister, I won’t bite. How’s about you buy a girl a drink?”
Two drunken soldiers passed by at the top of the alleyway. One stopped abruptly, took a drink of a bottle, and then tossed it in the street where it crashed into dozens of echoing pieces of shattered glass.
He quickly turned the last corner and stood in the dark, rainy alley behind the pile of crates, waiting...waiting for the kidnapping Yankee bastards to lead him to where they were keeping her inside the building.
He hunched low when he heard a deep voice coming from the basement below.
“I got you something better than water. Brought you sweet tea. Miss Babette’s bawdyhouse makes the best around, and she’s just a few doors down. She even had ice.” Archie held the glass to her mouth. “I told her I’d be back for a poke later.”
She jerked her head away. “You mean to tell me you brought me a drink from a house of ill repute—from a prostitute? You’re even more revolting than I thought. No, thank you.”
A dark shadow caught her attention. She narrowed her eyes. Rayce peered at her from outside the small basement window leading to the alley.
“I thought you said you needed a drink of—”
Her gaze snapped back to Archie. “Oh, my...yes, what am I thinking? Yes, I’m absolutely parched.”
Archie placed the glass to her lips. She slowly sipped the tea while stealing unnoticed glances toward the window. Rayce pressed his finger to his lips, gesturing for her to keep quiet.
“There, Miss Blair. No longer parched.” He took the glass away and headed back to the table. “Now, I need to read over these before my men get back. You just close your eyes or something, perhaps try a little nap.”
With Archie standing a few feet away, Eden quietly continued working the knot at her wrists. Rayce suddenly disappeared from the window, and her pulse quickened. Her heart pounded so forcefully she wondered if it would beat right out of her chest. The sensation became so strong and frightening the only thing she could hear was the sound of her heart beating in her ears.
Stay calm.
She glanced at the ground, distracted by a small shimmer near her feet. The sprinkle of light flickered again for a split second against a flash of lightning. She looked up at Archie who appeared occupied with the papers. Slowly, she slid her boot over the object and realized it was a shard of glass covered in dirt. The thought of this vile man killing Rayce was something she would not—could not consider.
If I can get the glass and cut the ropes...
She sat staring at the dirt, trying to figure out how to get the sharp glass shard from point A to point B, when she heard harsh voices and scuffling outside the window.
Even with all his apparent planning, Archie snapped to with an awkward start, clearly surprised. He drew his gun, and Eden caught sight of the Bowie knife he used to clean his fingernails tucked into the back of his trousers.
Archie’s eyes twitched as he slowly walked to the window, his gun cocked and ready.
Suddenly, the window broke in a piercing crash of shattered shards, and in flew a crate falling to the ground with a heavy thump on the dirt floor. The glass spilled all around, hitting Archie in the face, missing Eden by only a few feet.
“What the hell!” Archie screeched, scratching wildly at his bloodied face with one hand, his gun pointed aimlessly in the other.
Eden twisted in her seat toward the loud sounds of scuffing boots and deep voices descending the stairway. Within the blink of an eye, Rayce stood at the bottom of the steps with one hand around the neck of the man who had left the basement earlier, and a gun in the other hand pointed at his head.
“Dammit!” Archie yelled.
“You have two choices here, Archie, live or die,” Rayce announced.
Eden didn’t dare say a word and distract him from this terrifying situation. The way she saw it, Rayce had the same choices, given Archie’s gun was pointed at him, too.
“Don’t let him shoot me, Archie,” the other man begged. “Come on, now, I don’t wanna die!”
Archie stood next to Eden, his cheeks and jaw embedded with
sharp shards of glass, his gun aimed at Rayce.
“You haven’t a pot to piss in, Major. I have your girl here, remember?” He reached behind and pulled the Bowie knife from his belt at his back.
Eden gasped and gnawed on her lower lip. Archie appeared to have the advantage with two weapons.
“You all right, Eden? He hurt you?” Rayce called. He began moving slowly toward her with his captive.
“I’m fine,” she answered.
“Stay right where you are, Major.” Archie smiled as he walked in front of Eden. “Looks like you’re the loser here. The way I see it, you have no choice but to lay your gun down and let my man go.”
“And what makes you think I’d do that?”
“Because with one shot I can take you out.” He wielded the gun in front of Eden’s face. “Or I could take your little lady out instead—your choice.”
Rayce stopped and looked at Archie as though he were excrement on the sole of his boot. “So you’ve had to resort to kidnapping innocent women, have you, Archbibald?” He laughed in a low throaty growl. “What makes you think I can’t take you and your partner out before you have a chance to fire a single bullet?”
Archie looked perplexed, as if debating whether Rayce had such a plan or was simply bluffing. Eden could see in Rayce’s dark eyes he sensed Archie’s nervousness—smelled the fear in his enemy.
“For Christ’s sake, Archibald,” Rayce said. “Be a man—let her go.”
The man being held by his scruff chimed in, “Yeah, maybe we better forget this and—”
Rayce grabbed the man’s collar and shook him to shut him up, and turned his attention back to Archie. “Look, if you’re going to kill one of us, it has to be me. I’m who you want, so let her go. Do you really want to have the death of this woman and her unborn child on your pathetic conscience?”
He knows. Her breath caught, and she looked at Rayce, her eyes welling with tears. He glanced at her for a brief moment, his eyes acknowledging hers, and she saw the corner of his mustache curl up in a small smile.