Finally, just before two, Sin-Jin appeared, his dark officer's cloak wrapped around him despite the weather. It served to hide him in the shadows.
Nerves knotted within Krystyna's stomach. Something had gone wrong. "What happened? Where is he?"
Sin-Jin took her hands in his, wishing he could soothe away her agitation. "I'm sorry, Krystyna. The guard I had posted came down with dysentery. There's another in his place tonight, one whose suspicions I can't risk arousing."
So close and yet so far. "Tomorrow night?" She looked at him hopefully.
Sin-Jin shook his head. "The execution is set for eight tomorrow morning."
Krystyna stared at him in horror, her hands tensing within his. "I thought you said that Jason was only an example."
"Yes, but he is to be a lasting one." Sin-Jin's expression was grim.
Silence met his words. Finally, Aaron said quietly, "Thank you, Lieutenant. We won't be needing your help any longer." He placed an arm around Krystyna's shoulders. "Well find some other way to free him."
Sin-Jin shook his head. "There's no one to appeal to. The sentence has already been passed. The general can't be moved. He's presiding over the hanging."
But Aarons mind was made up. "There's always someone to turn to." Aaron looked around. There was no one else about. "Would you leave us alone now? The less you know of the matter, the better for you."
Sin-Jin thought of protesting, of offering to be in on whatever it was that Aaron was going to suggest. But he was the interloper. His red uniform made him that. With a nod, he moved back into the shadows and wished them Godspeed.
At dawn, Krystyna knocked urgently on the general's door. His aide opened it, grumbling about the hour, and was surprised to see a woman in man's clothing.
In an attempt to look as appealing as the situation allowed, Krystyna had let her hair down and affixed Christopher's clothing more securely on her body, accentuating her curves. The interested leer that rose to the soldier's lips told her she had succeeded.
"What can I do for you, miss?"
Her hand was on the doorknob, but the soldier's covered it, restraining her. "I must see your general."
"I'm sorry, but the general has an execution to attend soon. He's quite busy." He trailed his hand up her arm. "Perhaps I can-"
"No, I must see him this minute." Moving quickly, Krystyna pushed past the man and darted inside. The soldier shouted for her to stop.
In the inner office, several minutes earlier, Wallace had been conferring with Count Andrej Malinowski. The stoop-shouldered older man had sought this early meeting for purposes of secrecy. He was incensed that Wallace had interfered with his plans by capturing Jason.
"If you had only had the presence of mind to ask me before blundering ahead with this trap . . "
General Wallace felt he had exercised more than extreme patience with this comical-looking little man. He didn't like him, no matter what his British superiors thought of the Count's abilities. Malinowski was vain, with the morals and the conscience of a water moccasin. And he treated everyone like a fool.
"My dear count, I am sorry, but—"
"Bah!" The Count threw up his hands in disgust. "Being sorry does not repair the damage!"
With a little encouragement, he would have wrung the man's thick neck. "The Reverend Blake informed me that young McKinley was trafficking with the Dutch. How was I to know that you were the one behind the scenes in this instance?"
The Count whirled on him, his coattails flapping. "You might have asked. Any fool would have asked. You know perfectly well that the game I play is a double-edged one." He rapped his cane angrily on the wooden floor. "I was going to use him for several of these trades, filling your warehouses." He emphasized the word your as he glared at the general. "And in the end, I would have had the gold back and would have handed him to you on a silver platter."
"But I-"
The Count placed the cane's tip at the general's throat, silencing him. Hate smoldered in the general's eyes. "Do not think that just because I am only in your country six months, I can be played for a fool." He dropped the cane from the general's throat. "These Colonials are eager to trade with foreign powers, but it will take me time to set up another such connection."
"That won't be a difficult matter for someone of your talents. "Wallace hated all these preening popinjays. He wondered when this war would be over so he could return home to be with civilized people?
The general looked critically at Malinowski's broad back as the Count paced angrily about the room. He's from some European country, Germany or Poland, Wallace thought. They are all alike. He knew the Count had entrenched himself in American society with the cunning of a fox, swiftly setting up a network by which goods were to be exchanged for the gold of foreign buyers. The gold was then handed over to him, to be entrusted to those who would use it to benefit the American soldiers. Somewhere along the line, however, the money would disappear into the Count's pocket and be sent to the British war effort instead.
"I would have led you to him in due time, when he had served my purposes. Have I not turned over the others?"
Wallace was tired of hearing the Count recite his accomplishments. "Yes, yes, of course. You've done a wonderful job, But you must understand my position — "
Andrej's eyes mocked him. "You have no position! You are merely a soldier of the common class!" It pleased him that the general remained silent while the color in his face rose. "All commoners are a trial to me," the Count sighed. "Almost a year ago, I entrusted a simple task to one of my own countryman. All he had to do was kill an old man who was a threat to my country, as well as a personal enemy of mine. Just kill him and bring me back his daughter. A very simple task." The Count struck the general's desk with his cane. "And he failed."
"The old man got away?" the general asked for the sake of decorum. He wasn't interested in the slightest in any of the Count's dealings. He wished himself rid of the annoying fop.
"No, but the girl did. The fool got himself killed trying to recapture her."
"Pity." The general's voice rang with disinterest. He wondered why the British hadn't attracted the same sort of foreign allies as the Americans. This weasel in his office was helping purely for the money. Ah, but what of that? Wallace shrugged. It was money that won in the long run.
Noise from the outer room caught his attention. He thought he heard his aide trying to prevent someone from entering.
"I think you'd better make yourself scarce for the moment. There's no way of knowing who's out there, and we wouldn't want any of the Colonials to see you with me." His smile was mirthless. "Might ruin your 'business.' "
The Count nodded his head. "You are right. It is the first intelligent thing you have said this morning. I shall — " He stopped abruptly as he heard a woman's voice. His expression changed from wonder to triumphant malice. "Krystyna!" he exclaimed.
The general looked at him. "What did you say?"
"Nothing." The Count waved away his question. He was about to take Jason's money belt from the table when the door opened and he was forced to dart quickly into the back room to avoid discovery. Now, more than ever, it would spoil everything.
Krystyna ran in, breathless. The general recognized her. What was she doing here, dressed like that? He looked from her to his aide for an explanation.
"I'm sorry, sir, but she insisted. . . ."
Krystyna yanked her arm away from the aide as he tried to pull her from the room. Free, she darted behind the general. "Please, I must talk to you."
"It's all right Andrews." Wallace waved the man away. "I'll take care of this."
Krystyna saw the money belt. It was Jason's, she was sure of it. She had seen it on his person. The buckle had been gold, not brass as was common. Her eyes darted back to the commander's face. He was watching her. Krystyna strove to make her voice plaintive, knowing that everything depended on her diverting the general for those extra moments that Aaron needed. "Sir, I have come to plead with yo
u."
She was a tempting morsel, but Wallace was pressed for time. "My dear Countess, I am afraid that the matter is out of my hands. Your young man —I am assuming this is about Jason McKinley," the smile he offered made Krystyna's blood run cold, "has broken the law and stands convicted of treason. He is to pay for his foolishness with his life."
She played on the vanity she had seen Wallace display during his stay at the plantation. "But you are the highest authority here. You could dismiss the charges."
He eyed her bosom as her breathing made it heave. "I have no reason to."
She knew the kind of man he was. He was used to having his sport. If she offered herself to him, he would undoubtedly promise her that the execution would be postponed while further examination took place. But once his lust was sated, Jason would die.
"He was led astray." Hurry, Aaron, hurry, she prayed.
"It seems that whole family was led astray," Wallace said drily.
Annoyed, he pulled on his gloves. The woman was going to make him late. After the execution he had to leave immediately to meet with Howe.
"I have money." She watched his eyes for a spark of interest.
"A man of the Crown cannot be bought." But his manner indicated that he was open to suggestion.
Krystyna continued to watch his face carefully. "Not even for a hundred pounds?" Come on, come on, where is the noise? Has something gone wrong?
A hundred pounds was nothing to turn one's back on. "Do you have it on your person?" Wallace took a step toward her. It would have given him great pleasure to search her for it.
She shook her head, moving aside. "I would not be so foolish."
"And I would not be foolish enough to do anything on a promise, even from a countess."
"No promises." She moved closer to him. "The money is here in camp. All you need do is follow me."
Tempting, but dangerous. Just like the woman. "What is he to you?" the general asked suspiciously.
"He is my husband."
That weasel is listening to every word, Wallace thought, glancing toward the door that separated Andrej from them. Though the offer of money tempted him, he couldn't take the chance that Malinowski would report him to his superiors. Or blackmail him for this transgression. The possibility of murdering the man crossed his mind, not for the first time.
But Andrej wasn't thinking of blackmail. His thoughts were all centered on Krystyna. The little bitch had fended him off when he'd honored her with his attention, but she had run off with some barbarian from the Colonies. Well, she would pay for this. Dearly. Just as she had paid for the first insult. Then it had been her father's life. Now it would be her husband's. And personal shame greater than she could bear.
But to rush out and seize her now would be absurd. He wanted vengeance, but not at the risk of discovery. There was a great deal at stake monetarily with these Americans. All in good time, he promised himself. All in good time.
Krystyna was losing the general. He was going to leave. Hysteria rose in her eyes as she grasped his arm. "Please, sir, if you will only come with me, I can show you where the money is and then you will free him, yes?"
The general smiled as he looked into Krystyna's face. Perhaps there were possibilities here. He could always tell Howe he was detained. But to talk money, he had to get out of the Count's earshot. "First we will talk." He began to usher her out of the room.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of shouting. Hurrying outside, the general saw that soldiers were running to and fro. Fires were burning at both ends of the street. A water brigade was forming. And then a cannon went off.
Krystyna sighed as the general hurried past her. Jeremiah had managed to get to the cannon. Coming alive, she darted back into the room and grabbed Jason's money belt. They'd have need of this, she knew. Glancing over her shoulder to satisfy herself that the general was still occupied, she ran in the opposite direction.
The room was empty when the Count ventured out. His eyes fell on the table. Gone. He muttered a curse under his breath.
Krystyna ran toward the jail. The guard was craning his neck to see what was happening. The general store was on fire, as was the stable, what remained of it from the last assault. The neighing of panicked horses almost drowned out everything else.
"Hey!" The guard grabbed Krystyna's arm as she pretended to run past him. "What's going on?"
Spying Aaron approaching from behind, she stayed where she was, intent on keeping the guard distracted. "The Americans are attacking. Your general is calling for all the soldiers to defend the camp."
The soldier looked torn between his duty and his desire to fight. And then the expression on his face went blank. Aaron had hit him on the head. The soldier crumpled to the ground, dropping his musket.
Krystyna tore the keys from his belt. She fumbled with the large brass one as she stuck it in the lock. Though the key turned, the door wouldn't move. Pushing her to the side, Aaron threw his shoulder against it, and it swung open.
Jason almost fell at their feet. He was surprised to see Aaron. "God, I never thought you'd look so good, brother." He clamped a hand on Aaron's shoulder. The next face he saw was Krystyna's. She hugged him quickly, then released him. Time was precious. Later she would reassure herself that he was well.
"Why did you bring her?" Jason demanded. It was too dangerous for Krystyna to be here.
"Bring her? She all but brought me!" Aaron looked around quickly, assessing their best route. "This way!"
Quickly, they circumvented another building and ran behind the church, where Jeremiah stood holding the horses.
"Mast'r Jase!" Jeremiah allowed a relieved grin to split his face.
"Still alive, Jeremiah. Still alive." Quickly, they mounted and rode for the outskirts of town.
"The prisoner's escaping. The prisoner's escaping!"
Jason had no idea who was shouting or whether the muskets that were discharging were aimed at him. He rode as if the very devil were following him.
Then Aaron's scream had him turning around.
"I got 'im!" Jeremiah called out. Pulling him onto his own saddle, Jeremiah held Aaron against him as they fled. Krystyna grabbed the dragging reins, taking Aaron's horse with them.
Chapter Thirty Seven
They didn't dare stop for almost forty minutes.
Jason kept looking over his shoulder at Aaron swaying in Jeremiah's arms. There was blood running down his shirtsleeve. The wound had to be bound. "Are you all right?" Jason called, raising his voice to be heard above the pounding of hooves.
"Never better." Aaron fought to keep his eyes opened. "Don't worry about me. It's just a scratch." But his complexion had gone pale, and his breathing appeared labored.
"Maybe we should stop and get that looked at." Jason slowed to ride abreast of his brother and Jeremiah.
"Ride, ride," Aaron ordered weakly. "They'll catch us if we stop, and I'd rather bleed to death on a horse than be cut down by a firing squad."
Jason signaled that they were to continue, but he was gravely concerned about his brother. His own shoulder was still raw and ached from the ball he had taken at the docks, and he knew Aaron wasn't in nearly as good condition as he was.
But they rode on, losing themselves in the forest after riding downstream to cover their tracks. When it looked as though they had finally left the soldiers far behind, Jason called a halt.
As soon as they stopped, Krystyna jumped from her horse and hurried to Aaron's side. "Here, set him against the tree." She pointed to the nearest one. On her knees, she tore Aaron's shirt from his shoulder and looked for the wound. Her stomach churned at seeing so much blood. Her hands were covered with it as she used water from the goatskin pouch to wash the wound. Gingerly, she raised Aaron's arm to make a more thorough examination.
"It is clean." She sighed with relief. "There is no ball inside." They wouldn't have to dig a metal pellet out. "It went right through him."
"Try this."
Krystyna looked up and saw
that Jeremiah was offering her a foul-smelling poultice. Aaron had already begun to be feverish, his brow was wet with perspiration. He looked at the poultice and then at Krystyna. They had the same thought. It would have been easy for Jeremiah to include something in the poultice that would induce, instead of prevent, gangrene. Then he would have revenge for his daughter's lost virtue.
No, Krystyna thought, Jeremiah is too honorable a man to practice such deceit.
Jeremiah could read their thoughts. "Ain't nothing to worry about," he said quietly. “Just some roots and things Marwilda taught me about. Brung 'em with me. In case Mast'r Jase needed 'em."
Krystyna held the poultice, waiting. It was up to Aaron. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you, Jeremiah," he mumbled, his eyes glazed.
When Krystyna applied the poultice to his shoulder, Aaron winced, but said nothing.
Jason looked down at his brother. "He's going to have to be taken home as soon as possible," he said to Jeremiah. "I want that shoulder looked at."
"So do I." Aaron tried to smile. "But aren't you coming with us?"
Jason shook his head. "I've got to report back to my contact. I lost the money, but since I was set up, he might be in danger. I've got to warn him so that he can move his operation."
Krystyna raised her blouse above her waist. "You did not lose the money." He looked at her, confused. Hanging awkwardly about her hips was his money belt.
"You are amazing." He pulled her to him and kissed her soundly. "Where did you get that?"
"I took it from the general's desk during all the confusion." She smiled. "I did not think you wanted him to have it."
He laughed. "Always so full of surprises." He kissed her again, but this time, the ache, the hunger in him managed to break through. When their lips parted, the jubilation of the moment had faded as they looked at one another. There was no doubt as to their feelings.
Jason cleared his throat and looked at his brother. Aaron was smiling weakly. "Now I really have a reason to find him." Jason raised the belt into the air. "The army's going to need what's in here." He sobered slightly as he looked at Aaron again. "Jeremiah, can you get him back to the house on your own?"
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