Emily's Vow

by Betty Bolte

  "I've seen you in action, my dear." Frank crossed the room to sit beside her on the sofa, taking the proffered glass. "I believe in your distinctive talents."

  "Really, Frank, you make it sound as if I lie when all I do is invent entertaining tales." She huffed indignantly, staring into her own glass before glancing at him. "Thank goodness Uncle Joshua won't return for several days. We have time to resolve this ghastly situation before he returns so he won't risk his own imprisonment to save his daughter."

  "You know about his missions, then?" Frank studied her for two beats and then drained his glass. He stood and began pacing, the tension in his body too much to handle sitting down.

  "I've suspected but thanks for confirming he has been privateering. I applaud his efforts."

  Frank paused in front of the book case beside the huge fireplace. A merry fire, orange and red and blue flames, snapped and popped. He stared into the dancing firelight. His Emily held for some fictitious crime in the bowels of hell. The very idea made him ache for what she must be experiencing, feeling, fearing. He turned to face Amy, one hand gripping the mantel. "Might you talk to the colonel?"

  Amy stared at him for a long silent moment, lips parted in thought. Instead of answering, she refilled their glasses. "I warrant I can try, but I make no assurances that my talents, as you call them, will suffice. After all, I do not know why they arrested my poor cousin."

  Frank shook his head. "Every avenue was cut off to me."

  He prayed the prison guards, as well as the other prisoners whoever they may be, treated his love with care. He'd vowed to her father to protect her. Now look where she sat. In that damp, dark basement running with illness and vermin.

  Amy glanced at the mantel clock and sighed. "There's naught to be done this late on a Sunday afternoon. First thing tomorrow, I will pay a visit to the colonel. We should secure her release as soon as possible before she is harmed one way or another."

  "Of course, but between now and then, I'll have no rest. Not with my love in danger." With Bradley overseeing her care, Frank prayed they wouldn't be too late. "If the bastard lays one finger on her, he'll answer to me and my pistol."

  * * *

  "Follow me." Frank tugged her hand, pulling it from its hiding place in her hand muff. The cool air of the church's nave bathed it before the warmth of his hand overcame the chill. Heat coursed up her arm and into her heart. Breathless, she followed him through a side door and into a sun-drenched room. From the other side of the dense wall, the congregation intoned the strains of a somber hymn, the organ leading the mournful sound.

  "The good rector will not mind if we borrow his study, my love." Closing the door, Frank turned her to face him. His look seared her; his hungry gaze soared across her face, flicked down to her chest. Her heart fluttered in response, making her catch her breath. What would he taste like? How hot would his mouth be? Or would it be cool and enticing? Shivers of fear comingled with anticipation propelled her arms, encouraging her to reach out to him. Draw him closer to her. He answered her summons by closing the short space separating them.

  "Frank." Words failed her. When his lips touched hers, thought melted into sensation.

  Curious, she watched him kiss her, his eyes closed as he explored her mouth with his tongue. Thrust and search, thrust and search. Against her will her eyes closed, her body driven by a wave of feeling so intense she floated in his arms. Stars exploded when he deepened the kiss, pressed his lips tighter against hers. Warmth gathered inside her, pooling wetness between her legs. She arched toward him, her body instinctively searching for relief only his body could supply. Her breasts mashed against his chest when his arms gathered her closer to him. Dear God, all this from a mere kiss. She'd found heaven.

  The congregation's singing ended, and the rector's voice droned from behind the wall separating the young couple from where the pious people gathered. The quiet murmur in the distance forced her eyes open.

  What was she doing? Forty people sat mere feet away.

  Frank paused in his kiss, then resumed with more restraint until he lightly kissed her mouth, once, twice, his eyes open, gazing at her.

  She needed him. No matter what else happened, no matter who discovered them.

  "I love you," Frank said, desire burning in his eyes. "I need to be with you."

  She waited for the fear to come, as it always did at the thought of being with a man. Touching his face with one finger, she traced his nose, his high cheekbones, sank into the dimple that appeared when he smiled. Still the fear did not come. She raised her eyes from his reddened mouth, searched his steel-gray eyes, for what she knew not.

  "Love me." Would he? Did he dare follow through on his suggestion? Longing ripped through her.

  "Are you certain?" Frank touched his lips to hers, igniting an unfamiliar wantonness.

  Despite her vow, made out of a fear she no longer felt, her heart clamored for what Frank offered. His strength, love of learning, desire to travel, and his rock-hard body all spoke to her secret longings. Her fears became petty and meaningless in the bonfire of love and desire shining from his eyes. She chose him.

  On a moan she pressed her lips to his, answering his question the only way possible.

  Frank's arm braced her back as he bent into the kiss, and she closed her eyes, savoring the onslaught of sensations coursing through her. Liquid fire flowed from her core to her toes, fingertips, cheeks, until his heat engulfed her.

  Distantly, she felt him swipe the rector's desk clear of objects and press her onto the hard, cool surface. A deep thump sounded on the edges of her awareness, but she ignored it. As long as Frank was with her, she was safe.

  Frank's kisses blazed a path along her throat. Her breathing grew ragged when he explored farther south, fanning the flames of her response. She gasped when his lips warmed the exposed swell of her breast.

  "Hush, darling," he whispered, his breath cool against her skin.

  She didn't have time to respond before her skirt lifted out of the way, the draft of air creating shivers down her legs. She looked at him when his fingers found her ready core and slid inside. He covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cry of pleasure with the thrust of his tongue. Suddenly starving for the taste of him, she devoured his mouth as he explored her inner regions with one hand.

  She was falling or soaring, or both simultaneously. She couldn't be sure. Thought eluded her. Only his scent and his touch mattered. Her inner blaze fueled her actions, her needs, her wants.

  Her fingernails dug into his coat, pulling him closer. He released one hand to unfasten his breeches. Breaking off the kiss, he looked at her with lust-blinded eyes, breathing quick.

  "Emily?"

  She kissed him in answer, unable to speak for the furious sensations whirling through her, obliterating all else.

  The wooden desk insinuated itself on Emily's consciousness, pressing painfully into her spine. She shifted, searching for a more comfortable position without disrupting the intensity of their embrace. A cool breeze raised bumps along her heated skin.

  "Marry me," Frank whispered, tugging on a stray curl, winding it around his finger.

  Yes! Yes! Anything you want. I love you, Frank. She reached for his face with both hands to draw him closer for one last kiss before they faced her father.

  A forceful repeated bumping noise forced her awake, and she opened her eyes to peer into the darkness of her virtual cell with only the dim glow of moonlight through the slats covering the windows. When the sound came again, she realized the wind had picked up, bumping a tree branch against the side of the house. She lay on the hard bed, utterly alone, with a threadbare blanket to cover her and a flat pillow beneath her head, listening to the sporadic noise amidst the rush of wind. The abrupt shift from her intense dream to this harsh reality made her emotions swim. The dream itself bordered on blasphemous. She shivered at the harsh loss.

  Two days and now two nights and only daily harangues by John to marry him. Her repeated refusals le
ft him bitter and enraged, but she couldn't agree. Her search for a means to escape had proved futile. John had created her jail with care. But still he had only provided the bare essentials, and two meals a day. She pulled her fingers through her knotted hair and longed for the brush lying on her dressing table.

  So much she needed to tend to, and here she sat. Little Tommy had finally warmed to her, babbling and playing with her. He was crawling now, getting into mischief at every turn. She also had more food to put up for the winter. Preparations for the annual dinner party needed her guiding hand. Here she sat, locked away like her prize peaches in their jars.

  Her heart sank at a sudden thought. Her father out of town left no one at home to tend to the running of the household. So much to be handled and no one there to manage the comings and goings of the servants and the household goods.

  Did no one, not even Frank, care that she was John's captive? How long would John keep her hidden away in Frank's very house? Did anyone even know where she was?

  She paced the floor, rubbing her hands on her arms to abate the chill seeping into her bones. Her stomach growled, rebelling at being neglected. Her stomach growled again, protesting its abuse. Anger sizzled through her. How dare he? How dare John do this to the woman he professed to love? She did not deserve to be isolated from her family, for she had done nothing wrong.

  Criminy! She stood here alone, waiting, for what she knew not. Where was Frank? Her father? Anyone.

  She collapsed back down on the hard bed, sleep a distant concept, and thought about her vivid dream. Warmth flooded through her when she recalled how wantonly she made love to Frank, defying her resolve to be her own person. His loving face appeared in her mind, and she longed to reach out and stroke the shadow of stubble lingering on his cheek. Frank had wiggled his way into her heart, and she had deeper feelings for him than she cared to admit.

  Now what did she do?

  Chapter 18

  "You cannot possibly believe that." Frank carefully placed both palms on the bloody turncoat's temporary desk serving as a makeshift office on the main floor of the Exchange. Around them, dozens of other traders and merchants entertained deals for the merchandise arriving on the boats and ships at anchor in the river. He fought to stay calm, in control. Acting too upset would only incite Bradley further. During brief lulls in the tumult of the trading, the muted sounds of the prison sounded from below him, the distant clang of metal chains, the yells and moans of the prisoners. If he heard a female voice in that cacophony, his patience in dealing with this bastard would come to an abrupt end.

  "I have evidence as well as witnesses, all I need to take before the colonel and prove my case," the major replied.

  "You have your imagination more likely." Frank searched his memory for any clues as to what type of evidence the bastard had conjured up. Emily was apprehended in the shop with the account books open. Surely he needed more to convict the girl of treason. Frank swallowed, a painful, dry movement, at the realization that during war anything was possible.

  "She's in this with her old man, she admitted as much. She committed treason."

  "Treason?" Frank stood upright and glared at the man responsible for this ridiculous farce. Ah, that thought clarified Bradley's intent. "You don't want her, though, do you? She's the bait."

  Bradley's expression shifted, hinting at a deadly grin. "Why, what do you mean?"

  "You want someone else, don't you?" Captain Sullivan's sloop was due soon, but no need to reveal as much if it were the captain Bradley truly sought. "You don't care about Emily."

  "There you're wrong, my friend." John stood and walked to the corner of the desk, fingering the wood with one hand. He looked at Frank, his eyebrows arched. "I care very much about dear Emily. We have quite a history, she and I. She means the world to me, and I plan to win her back. If I can resolve two needs with one act, why not?"

  No way in hell would Frank allow him to claim his Emily. He stood up straighter and looked down at the shorter, stockier man. No matter the history they shared, they shared no future. Emily cared for Frank. It may not be love quite yet, but she had slowly warmed to him. He saw it in her eyes when they laughed over some silly event together. Heard it in her voice when she said his name. Sweat beaded on his brow and he wiped it away. "Major, I believe you're mistaken in your supposition she cares for you."

  "You've not been with us the last few days, to see how willingly she comes to me when I visit." He smiled as he drummed his fingers on the desk.

  Frank's hands balled into fists at the leer on the bastard's face. Surely he lied. Emily cared for him, not this whoreson. Anger buzzed in his ears. Despite the cool breeze blowing through the open arches, he boiled inside at the audacity of the turncoat.

  Footsteps echoed in the cavernous space. Frank pivoted to see who approached, and let out a breath when Amy sashayed up to stand beside him.

  "Sorry I am so tardy, Frank." She folded her gloved hands in front of her, her drawstring purse dangling. "My conversation with the colonel took a little longer than anticipated."

  "Miss Amy, I'm pleased you arrived." He'd accompanied her to the colonel's quarters on a second attempt to meet with him, but she'd insisted, to his relief, her conversation with the man be private. Had she succeeded in her quest? His heartbeat pounded in his ears, making it difficult to hear the conversation. "I believe you know the major."

  "Yes, though it's been years since I've had the pleasure." Amy crossed to where Bradley stood, hand outstretched. "Pleased to see you again."

  The major ignored the proffered greeting and eyed her coldly. "Miss Abernathy."

  Amy lowered her hand at the rebuff but kept her smile in place.

  "Now that the pleasantries have been dealt with, I have come to see to the release of my cousin, Emily Sullivan."

  "I'm afraid her release is quite impossible," Bradley said. "Your cousin committed treason against the king of England, and it is out of my hands to assign her fate."

  "Treason? Emily?" Amy's eyes widened, their green depths sparkling with annoyance. "My dear sir, that is what's impossible."

  "Even children hang for treason," Bradley said, his eyes twinkling.

  "And you find hangings amusing?" Amy asked, offended. "You must be mistaken if you think my cousin capable of such behavior."

  "I know what your lovely cousin is capable of better than you realize." Bradley smirked at them. "In fact, I know her quite well."

  Frank clenched his fists tighter at the major's words. Amy's face paled though her smile remained steady. How intimately had the bastard known his love? A kiss? A fondle? More? Frank's face grew hot as he glared at the man. Not that carnally, surely. The bastard lied. What if he did in some distant past know Emily intimately? That was then. Frank loved Emily. He would forgive her succumbing to flirtations years ago. And despite any protest, protect her from this manipulative and dangerous man. "Careful, Bradley."

  "I see." Amy raised a cautionary hand toward Frank and moved closer to the major. "For the sake of her reputation, I assume that tidbit of information will not be shared with anyone else. Am I right?"

  Bradley shrugged. "As long as she cooperates with me, yes, I can agree to that."

  "Conditions, Major?" Frank opened and closed his fists, flirting with the idea of decking the man. "You would resort to blackmail."

  Amy stepped between the two men. She looked up at Bradley. "What happens to Emily if your demands are not met? What is it you want?"

  Bradley gazed at her for a long moment before answering. "I made her happy before. I can make her happy again. I want only one thing. She must become my wife."

  Frank could not stop the gasp, though he did manage to mask it as a cough. Emily marry this monster? He started forward, but a look from Amy stopped him. She motioned with her eyes for him to back up and stay quiet. He did so with an effort. He really wanted to pummel this bastard into the Purbeck stone floor. How dare he think he could coerce and control Emily's beautiful spirit? To force he
r to marry anyone, let alone this brute? Gripping the back of a nearby chair, he forced himself to remain still with every irate fiber of his being. Please, let the turncoat say the wrong thing, and he would not be able to stop himself. Amy or no Amy.

  "My, my, Major, that is quite a demand. Have you spoken to Emily about your desires?"

  "Yes, of course. She's considering my proposal."

  "Ah, so you talked with her?" Amy moved closer to the officer. "She is well?"

  Frank gripped the cold wood tighter. So the bastard had seen her. Even offered his hand, but she apparently had not accepted. By God, if he had hurt her, he's dead. Pure and simple.

  "As well and happy as you'd expect." He winked at Frank. "She has been fine under my personal supervision, rest assured."

  The wood between Frank's hands splintered.

  "There is only one problem with your plan." Amy clasped her hands together. "Believe me when I tell you she will not marry you."

  Bradley scowled at her. "How would you know?"

  "I cannot tell you, but I do know it for a fact. She will not marry anyone."

  Frank's heart plummeted to his feet. Not marry anyone? Surely Amy jested. Of course Emily would marry. All women married at some time in their lives so they could have a home to call their own, children to love and rear. What else did a woman have to strive for, to hope for, if not to love a man and care for him and his hearth? Emily's essays echoed in his mind, their content inflammatory yet suddenly revelatory. Perhaps she did have other dreams she pursued, scandalous and provocative dreams not only for herself but all women. His understanding of her motivations crystalized.

  "You lie." Bradley glared at Amy, a rhythmic pulse in the vein on his neck. "You lie!"

  Amy shook her head and contemplated the angry man.

  "Why will she not marry?"

  Amy remained silent, though Frank hoped she'd reveal the mysterious secret behind this observation.

  "Tell me." Bradley marched closer and stared at Amy, silently threatening her with his physical nearness.