Love Me With Fury

by Janelle Taylor

  “She must have been some beauty to intrigue and warm the black heart of Joshua Steele. Why, rumor claims your heart is as cold and hard and deadly as your name. Evidently the gossip is false. Tell me, Jos…what did this siren look like? And how’d you let her get away from you? With all that charm and prowess, I’m absolutely stunned. What female would hide from you?” he jested.

  Spencer scanned Andy’s boyish face and merry eyes. He grinned. “Let’s just say she made a delightful pastime. Fact is, I wouldn’t have minded her tagging along to Virginia. She was young enough to be trained very nicely, a shave under twenty. I’m telling you, Andy, she could spark jealousy’s flames in Aprodite herself. Wouldn’t surprise me any if she was the goddess of love and beauty herself!”

  “That beautiful?” Andy questioned in astonishment.

  “More so, my friend. Her hair was a silky mixture of sunlight and moonlight, streaks of silver and curls of gold. Her eyes were the shade of brilliant emeralds and her skin was as creamy and succulent as golden taffy. Her face…” he faltered as he mentally envisioned it, “…was that of an angel’s. I’ve never seen such purity and total innocence blended with such potent and vivid seductiveness and sensuality. A witch? A goddess? An illusion? Who knows, Andy?” Spencer confessed, followed by lusty laughter. “One thing for certain, I wouldn’t mind running into her again.”

  “By total innocence and purity, do you mean you were the first man in her life?” Andy couldn’t help but ask.

  Spencer chuckled wickedly. “The first, but definitely not the last! A female with that much fire and beauty won’t lead a celibate life. Damn her!” he stormed at that vexing thought.

  “It bothers you to think of her with other men?”

  “Hell no!” he furiously disclaimed. “Fact is, I have a little score to settle with Miss Angelique,” he murmured in an ominous tone, eyes chilling and narrowing, jaw growing taut.

  “About what, Josh? For deserting your side?” he jested.

  “For cracking my skull before doing it!” he snapped.

  Uncontrollable laughter filled the warm air. Andy shouted incredulously, “She did what? From what I hear, virgins normally get testy after a cunning seduction. Is that what happened? I thought girls and virgins were no-nos to you.” Radiant brown eyes glimmered with amusement and intrigue.

  “Never mind!” Spencer sneered irritably, unaccustomed to being the butt of a painful joke. “Suffice it to say that a certain sun-goddess owes me a hefty debt. If I ever get the chance to collect it…” he muttered underbreath, hope edging into his vow of revenge, remorse lacing his fury. “Don’t you have something else to occupy your time and mind, Andy?”

  Andrew Pennington grinned mischievously, then left Spencer poised against an azure skyline, again staring back toward the East. Finally Spencer shrugged off his wistful brown-study and headed for his cabin for some privacy.

  The warm days and breezy nights coalesced into one noneventful blur which added up to three weeks. In all that time, the Moon Maiden did not come into close contact with any enemy ships; most unusual, was Captain Burns’ opinion.

  Alex had spent most of her time in her cabin, reading and making notes about this splendid adventure: a diary for her children. She was growing restless with this stuffy confinement and boring stage of her intriguing journey. She eagerly anticipated her stay in America.

  Three times she had dined with Captain Burns and several other passengers of genteel breeding. She had politely listened to their meaningless banter and had made the appropriate comments in just the right places. She hated to be so selfish, but taking care of her sea-sick maid at least gave her something profitable to do with her abundant time and excessive energy.

  With the sun sparkling off the blue waters during the day, she couldn’t remain outside for very long. The strong reflections burned her eyes and enticed little lines to tease at her brow and to mar her most flattering feature: her forest green eyes. The heat dried her lips and devoured their softness. Besides, it wasn’t proper for a young lady to have such golden skin! She was grateful that her caramel coloring was natural and complimentary. She had seen women who lived and worked in the harsh sunlight; their complexions became leathery and lined. To appear older and weathered didn’t appeal to Alexandria Hampton!

  At night, she was also forced to remain within her cabin, unless she strolled the deck upon the protective arm of Captain Burns, the only man her father would permit near her and the only man Captain Burns would trust around her! The brisk winds trimmed her walks to short strolls, for it savagely tore at her hair and clothes.

  Perhaps it was unladylike to stand at the railing and to allow the wind to whip through her long hair, but it felt so exhilarating. The smell of the salty ocean would fill her nose and send shivers of excitement over her body. Surely the life of a sailor was stimulating and intoxicating! How she would dearly love to travel the world over, sailing with the tides, visiting foreign ports, living a carefree and suspenseful life.

  The day finally arrived when the lookout shouted loudly, “Land ho! Port in two hours!”

  Sitting in her cabin and intently concentrating upon Shakespeare’s Love Sonnets, the news reached her ears. She flung the book aside and raced up to the wooden deck, oblivious to all eyes and ears. She put her hand above her eyes to shade them; she avidly searched the distant horizon for a strip of dark matter. She squinted and strained until a dark, narrow strip could be detected just above the ocean.

  Alex jumped about in excitement and pleasure. The crew scurried about as they prepared to land in America. The ship sailed northward through the Delaware Bay, up the river, and eventually docked at the bustling and thriving seaport at Philadelphia. There was so much to take in all at once! Each of her five senses was vying for the most concentration. Sounds, sights, feelings, and odors stormed her simultaneously. She savored all of them, hoping to separate and digest each of them later.

  It was May, 1812. The hills around this American city were alive with color and beauty. Alex had not believed any place other than the English countryside could be so lovely or inspiring. She stood at the railing on the port side of the massive frigate which was now flying the American flag, docking easily as if she were a slender and graceful sloop.

  Alexandria’s emerald gaze eagerly scanned the sea of strange faces. It instantly halted when it seized upon the jovial face of her Uncle Henry. He was frantically waving to her in an attempt to gain her attention amidst this merry bedlam. A brilliant smile touched her lips. She waved back at him to let him know she had sighted him. She impatiently waited for the three-masted ship to be secured by other heavy ropes to the dock. At last, the sturdy gangplank was let down and tested for safety.

  Moments later, her uncle was embracing her and bussing her cheek with a fatherly kiss. It was so good to see him again after all these years of separation. He held her back at arm’s length to study her. He smiled in open pleasure and joyful surprise.

  “You’ve transformed into a real beauty, Alexandria, just like your mother was, God rest her soul. I’ve missed ye, girl,” he confessed, that slight burr noticeable in his voice even now.

  “And I, you, Uncle Henry. It’s been so long. The trip was so exciting. I saw so many strange and wonderful sights,” she bubbled with vitality and delight. “I can hardly wait to tell you all the news from home. Papa sends his love and good wishes.”

  “Let’s get ye home where we kin talk in private. I’m glad you decided to come. You’re a sight for sore eyes, child,” he murmured happily at the enchanting young woman before him.

  This dislocated Englishman revealed no trace of sadness or regret. He promptly sent two of his servants to fetch her belongings and chaperon while he escorted her to his carriage. As they sat waiting for her luggage to be gathered and brought to them—along with a weakened Tessa—Alex questioned Henry about several curious and puzzling facts.

  “Uncle Henry, if there is indeed an embargo against British ships, why are they permitt
ed to sail into American ports? Is that why the Moon Maiden travels under different flags in different countries?” she reasoned. “What if she had been an enemy ship sneaking into port?”

  Henry chuckled and then cordially explained, “We live under what Madison calls the Non-Intercourse Acts. They apply to British ships, but not privateers. Commerce and shipping would be at a standstill if it wasn’t for privateers like Burns. Certain ships and captains are granted permits to dock at almost any port in America. But if you asked me, Captain Burns owes his loyalty to no one other than Captain Burns,” he whispered in a low, conspiratorial tone. “He flies whatever flag is safe. As long as his services are needed and he doesn’t harm anyone, why should we halt him? Frankly, I find the old gent most likable and trustworthy.”

  “But that seems contradictory,” she remarked.

  “The point of an embargo is to reveal strength and unity to the Crown. You might call it a show of defiance and disagreement, a way of making our point. There are a great many problems between here and there. To allow British ships to dock anytime and anywhere would be dangerous to our security, just as you keenly surmised, young lady. Several ships of supplies and soldiers landing at numerous points along our coast could spell disaster for us. This is our way of preventing an attack, which I wouldn’t put past Old George.”

  “You keep saying ‘us’ and ‘our.’ Do you now consider yourself one of these crude and wild Americans?” she asked, amazed at Henry’s boastful disloyalty to the Crown. “I don’t understand this conflict. America is free of the British Empire now. We’re too busy fighting Napoleon to attack a country clear across an ocean. Besides, probably half of the people here are of English heritage. To attack America would be like assaulting your own family and kinsmen,” she naively concluded.

  Henry smiled indulgently at her wide-eyed innocence. “If only King George felt as you do, Alex. Yes, lass, I am now an American and I’m mighty proud of it. As for your rustic image of us, you couldn’t be more mistaken. In time, you will see for yourself,” he said proudly. “America can claim men from the best families in England and from other countries,” he exaggerated with an engaging grin and twinkling eyes.

  Perhaps Uncle Henry was right, Alex thought. Perhaps her image of America and her people had been colored by false gossip. For certain, she would soon learn for herself. Glancing around, she admitted how wrong she had been so far. This definitely wasn’t a wilderness! America for a month…she sighed dreamily and leaned back in Henry’s comfortable carriage.

  Shortly after, the luggage and a wobbly Tessa were loaded into the carriage and another wagon. The coffee-skinned driver took the reins and they headed for Henry’s home. Alex’s eyes darted this way and that, trying to gather every fact she could.

  Within hours and two hundred-fifty miles southward of Philadelphia, another privateer was docking at the port of Norfolk, Virginia. The still disguised Black Mist eased into harbor flying the Grand Union just above the flag of Virginia, a place normally occupied by a banner with snow-white skull and cross-bones upon an ebony background.

  The mooring was efficient and quick. Andrew Pennington was placed in charge while Spencer Farrington met with the trusted courier from President Madison’s office. Instead of placing the monumental file in the messenger’s capable hands, Spencer hastily accompanied him all the way to Montpelier where the President was currently staying. Spencer had previously determined to hand deliver this weighty dispatch himself.

  Along the way, Spencer questioned John Lindsdale about the news in Washington and America. He was relieved to discover the business of “Henry’s letters” was gradually fading in light of more pressing matters. No one knew better than Madison and Monroe what a fiasco that business had been! John told him the sloop Hornet had docked on the nineteenth with the news of Castlereagh’s appointment to be British Foreign Minister. Weighing the notes made by Castlereagh which were presently resting in his possession, he sighed in relief.

  Spencer waited patiently while he was being announced to the President of the United States of America. Within moments, the massive oak doors to his library swung open wide and in strolled his elderly superior. Spencer respectfully arose from his comfortable seat and crossed the wide expanse of polished hardwood to greet this vital man.

  In his sixties, Madison was still a commanding figure of a man. His shiny, bald pate was surrounded by thin, wiry hair. His gaunt face with its beakish nose, bushy brows, and full lips suggested toughness and determination rather than his easy-going manner. The puffiness beneath his dark, hooded eyes made him appear older and wearier than when Spencer had last seen him. Was this an indication of how badly things had been going while he had been away? Madison’s somber, serious mood indicated yes.

  Madison smiled crookedly as he accepted Spencer’s firm handshake. “Good to have you back safely, Spencer,” he remarked. “The British have been causing quite a ruckus up and down the coastline. Any trouble, son?” he inquired, his smile fading.

  “None, sir. Things went almost too well,” Spencer replied suspiciously. “Tell me, sir; can you trust your English informant?”

  The unexpected question caused Madison’s brows to lift inquisitively. “Come into the library. We’ll talk there.” He turned and led the way into a room which boasted of history in the making and history already made. “Sherry?” he cordially offered, pouring two glasses before Spencer could nod yes. He handed one to Spencer, then picked up his own and sipped it.

  Sitting down, he motioned to Spencer to take a seat upon the short sofa nearby. “Your look tells me the news isn’t good,” Madison surmised aloud. He sighed in resignation and stated, “Well, let’s have it, son. It couldn’t be any worse than matters here.”

  Spencer passed the parcel over to him, saying, “I think you best look over these papers yourself, sir; then we can discuss them. Or, more accurately, what to do about them.” He settled himself back against the plush cushions and sipped his sherry while Madison glanced over each document.

  When Madison had sufficiently gone over the facts and figures listed upon the numerous pages, he lay them upon his desk. His gaze came up to meet Spencer’s; his expression was grave. “I see why you questioned the loyalty of my informant. Rest assured, Spencer; he can be trusted as much as you and me. The problem is, do we trust these reports?” Madison candidly announced.

  “If they’re accurate, that file’s dynamite. If those countries join Britain’s offense against France, she’ll finish off Napoleon within months. Then her ships and resources will be turned against us. Adams is in Russia now; what does he report?”

  “His report isn’t due for another few weeks. If it agrees with the one here, we’ve got real trouble.” He ran his slender, shaky fingers through his sparse amount of hair as he mused over this devastating enlightenment. “This British ship Guerriere, is she a threat to us?”

  “The only frigate we have who could match her is the Constitution,” Spencer answered frankly. “At sea, we’re no competition for the Royal Navy. We have capable captains, but our fleet is small and ineffectual. The only way I could help out is to lose my cover with Steele and the Black Mist,” he suggested.

  “No. We need you right where you are. We couldn’t afford to lose your cover and your strength. With Virginians like you, no wonder the rest of the country is worried about so many Virginians in power! Can we be blamed for giving them Jefferson, Washington, Clay, Madison, Farrington, and Monroe? Can we help it if our statesmen are smart enough to dominate the government?” he teased.

  Spencer laughed with him. He quickly explained his reasons for bypassing Spain and his meeting with Joseph Bonaparte. “I think we can accomplish just as much with Governor Juan de Estrada and Minister de Onis. Did you call off Campbell and Mathews?”

  “They didn’t take kindly to it,” Madison replied, “but I sent them a stern message to withdraw and to cease attack upon the Spanish holdings down there. We all know Florida is a viper’s nest for runaway slaves
and hostile Indians, but we can’t just stroll in and take over. We have enough animosities to handle without creating another hornet’s nest to our south. Rhea’s already taken over western Florida. If we keep pressing them, they’re going to fight us over this matter,” he concluded. “I say hold off for a while. The Spanish might come around to selling her to us, too. Jefferson got a good deal on the Louisiana Purchase; maybe I can better him with the acquisition of Florida. We’ve got Britain and France breathing down our necks we surely don’t need Spain too!”

  “What’s next for me, sir?” Spencer asked.

  “Go back to Farrington Oaks for a few days’ rest. There’s a delegation of hotheads here to see me. After I confer with Clay, Webster, Calhoun, and Gallatin, I’ll send word to you. Perhaps Clinton can enlighten me on the news from the New England area. Monroe will be over in two days. Once I have their reports and suggestions, I’ll be better qualified to make my final decisions. They howl and shriek for war, Spencer; but war is a mighty nasty business. They’re all too young to recall our last one with Great Britain. They’re lawyers and orators; what do they know of blood and fighting? They’re blind dreamers, Spence; they think we can vanquish Britain within a few months. But once committed, there’s no turning back,” Madison muttered, well aware of the grave responsibility which was upon his shoulders.

  He smiled. Changing the subject, he softly inquired, “Did you see your grandfather?”