Love Me With Fury

by Janelle Taylor

“Then hold it for your future wife,” she playfully suggested.

  “Which won’t be you, right?”

  “I must decline, John. I hate to admit it, but I don’t trust you,” she ruefully, but honestly, replied.

  “Only because you don’t know me, and you’re afraid to trust yourself with me. Can I at least hope you’ll consider my proposal?” he pressed.

  “Please don’t. In light of the trouble with Daniel, I wouldn’t want to inspire any false hopes or impressions. But I am extremely fond of you already. You are much too disarming, you dashing rogue.”

  “As are you, my lovely angel,” he murmured.

  “Don’t call me that!” she screamed at him, pale and rigid.

  Startled by her outburst, John was taken aback—until he saw the tears in her eyes. A connoisseur of women, it took little imagination to comprehend the source of Alex’s distress. Careful not to frighten her, he pulled her into his arms and comforted her. He fiercely controlled his raging desire for her. He could spoil any hope of winning her over if he took advantage of her now. When she regained her composure, he smiled and offered to see her home.

  She returned the smile and thanked him, knowing how tightly he was restraining himself. He grinned and bid her a hasty farewell at the door. Halfway down the front steps, he halted and turned to say, “If you need or want to see me, will you send a message?”

  Alex readily agreed, then watched him mount up and ride off while waving to her. Despite everything, she wished she dared to encourage him. But now it was better for both of them if they stayed apart. For the first time in her present state of turmoil, Alex realized she was holding something. She glanced down at her hand; John had pressed the necklace into it while saying goodbye.

  That next morning an urgent message came for Henry from President Madison who was requesting his prompt visit to Washington. Alex witnessed his curious reaction to this prestigious summons. He was furious about something in the letter. He was mumbling about the heavy fighting going on to the northern border, Rogers’s defensive movement to New York, and Madison’s pre-occupation with the upcoming presidential election. Two other facts elated him: Perry had defeated the British fleet on Lake Erie and Elliott had captured two other British ships.

  Henry halted his nervous pacing to ask her if she wished to tag along. “The fighting’s getting rougher, Alex, and nearer. I couldn’t rest easy worrying about your safety. Might be a pleasing outing,” he needlessly coaxed.

  Overjoyed at some excuse to avoid the men around Philadelphia, and excited about such an adventure, Alex instantly agreed. “I’ll send Joe a message to let him know I’ve left, but only after it’s a fact. When do we leave?”

  “In the morning. I’d best get there quickly and see what the old bird wants. Probably needs help getting re-elected. With so many people growing weary of this war, he could inspire them to elect another man.”

  “I don’t see why; they forced him to declare war,” she astutely surmised. “Washington…” she dreamily murmured.

  The ride took three and a half days of arduous and bumpy travel in the otherwise comfortable and roomy coach. Sensing her uncle’s haste and vexation, Alex kept her discomfort to herself. How she wished this queasiness would stop assailing her during the early morning hours. At least her excessive sleepiness could be abated with occasional naps while her uncle read his papers. Even though her monthly was very late, she hoped it would be delayed a while longer until after their arrival.

  Once ensconced in the hotel, Alex rested that first day. Caught up in business and political meetings, Henry was gone most of the time. Placed under the eagle eye of one of Madison’s trusted employees on that next day, Alex was given several tours to intriguing locations around the large city. Later, she was invited to dinner at Madison’s home.

  She was overwhelmed by the illustrious guests present. She found herself smiling and enjoying the amiable, balding man who ruled this promising land. His features hawkish and harsh, his mellow mood and lively blue eyes still relaxed her. Even at sixty-one, he radiated an intelligence and warmth she found appealing and delightful.

  Then, there was the famous orator and outspoken Warhawk John Calhoun. He flaunted a curious beard underneath his chin but sported no hair upon his stubborn chin or strong jawline. Bushy brows perched over dark and piercing eyes. He had a rapidly receding hairline which generously allowed his thinning hair to flow back to his nape. She couldn’t decide if she liked this powerful and repellent man.

  Henry Clay was a different matter. A self-educated lawyer who was known for his boldness, ardor, and frankness had no trouble winning friends and supporters with his magnetic charm and invigorating zeal. Although a Southerner, he fiercely opposed slavery, as she did. Also an ardent Warhawk, he had done much to inspire this war. But for his cleft chin and shapeless mouth, his features bore an aristocratic quality.

  The most impressive man present was Daniel Webster, a dashing man in his early thirties. A staunch Federalist, he was also a lawyer. From the Northeast, his resentment of the predominance of Virginians and Southerners in government could be detected in his brazen statements. Unlike the others present, he had vigorously opposed this war. Known to be an eloquent speaker, that time his arguments had fallen upon deaf ears and hardened hearts. His features were large and most prominent. His sharply pointed brows gave him a satanic look. Added to that disadvantage, a bulbous nose, thin upper lip, and large lower one presented a false impression of sullenness.

  While the few ladies were present, there was no mention of business or politics during dinner or the brief piano recital by a talented, blond woman who was married to Madison’s assistant John Lindsdale. Clearly vexed by Alex’s beauty and unintentional rivalry for masculine attention, she reminded Alex of Helen Gillis. As if unmindful of her husband and noted guests, her outrageous flirtations with other men took Alex by surprise. Why did Lindsdale permit such wantonness?

  Entrapped in the drawing room with the ladies after dinner, Alex was compelled to listen to their frivolous conversations while waiting for this now dull evening to end. To sneak a breath of fresh air, she pretended to excuse herself, then hurried outside.

  Leaning against the wooden facade of the President’s mansion to the dark side of the lengthy U-shaped porch, Alex overheard a curious conversation between Cassandra Lindsdale and another young woman who was still unattached.

  “I can’t believe it, Lucy; he’s finally back. He’s been gone too long,” she stated petulantly. “There’s no other man alive to compare with him. He’s a god and a devil.”

  “But what about John; you’re married now,” Lucy argued. “It’s my turn to woo him.”

  “You know Spence always preferred me over all other women,” she vainly announced.

  “But you’re married now. Spence never fools with married women and you know it, Cass! Besides, he said he never wanted to see you again!”

  “That was a silly misunderstanding. I’ll straighten it out,” she smugly vowed.

  “Misunderstanding?” Lucy shrieked in amusement. “Catching his lady friend in bed with another man to make him jealous is more than a silly disagreement. Have you forgotten you pulled a knife on him and tried to castrate him?” she reminded the molten-blooded, hot-tempered woman with tawny hair and flashing green eyes.

  “He knows I was only upset by his rude dismissal. He’ll forgive me; you’ll see.”

  “Spence doesn’t care what any woman feels or thinks. I hate him!”

  “Liar,” Cassandra cooed. “You’ll accept any amount of attention from him like every other female does.”

  “Only because he’s so handsome, virile, and wealthy,” she sneered.

  “I would give my soul to have him,” Cassandra truthfully vowed. “What female wouldn’t after meeting him?”

  “Spencer Farrington can have any woman he chooses for as long as he wishes and he’d accept none of them afterwards. When he marries, it’ll be to a wealthy, beautiful, and highborn lady
. You mark my words, Cass; he’ll never settle for less.”

  “Let’s sneak into the kitchen and get some wine; my throat is drier than cotton.” When Lucy agreed, they left.

  Spencer Farrington? Could it be Sir William’s grandson, their future neighbor, the catty women had been discussing? Alex had heard wild tales about him, but had yet to meet him. Could he be as irresistible and aloof as they alleged? Alex laughed as she recalled her father’s last words to her about discussing an arranged marriage between herself and that rogue. Strange, Sir William had been the first to mention it. If this Spencer Farrington was such a catch, why didn’t he select his own wife from his endless list of conquests? Could he be as reluctant and discriminating as she was? Could he be forced to marry a woman of Will’s choosing, possibly even her? Comparing their personalities and reputations, it could be a perfect match and solution!

  Alex hurried inside to return to the drawing room before Cassandra and Lucy could arrive first. The remainder of that evening she secretly studied each woman with renewed intrigue.

  The next morning revealed a glorious fall day. After her stroll and lunch, she bid her stuffy and necessary escort farewell at the hotel entrance. As soon as he was out of sight, she grinned mischievously and leisurely began another stroll down the street, stopping here and there to gaze into shop windows.

  At a quaint shop where paintings were sold, she paused to go inside. She aimlessly wandered around until a particular canvas captured her attention. It was an irresistible oil painting of an infamous ship at sea, one she recalled too well. Waves were crashing against her black hull and imaginary winds were filling her midnight sails. Unable to resist this striking reminder of her bittersweet past with Joshua, she checked the price…but she didn’t have that much money with her.

  She went to the shopkeeper and asked if he would hold it for her until she could fetch the money from her uncle later that evening. He smiled amicably and agreed. For some absurd reason, she gave the name Angelique DuBois. Maybe it had to do with the effect of the painting which had refreshed her memories of life at sea with Joshua. She waved to him and headed down the street, knowing her uncle would be out until after dinner.

  In less than five minutes, a beady-eyed man about sixty hurried up to her. “Miss, miss,” he breathlessly called out. When she paused, he related a message for her. “Your uncle’s had an accident, miss. Don’t know how bad he’s hurt. They took him to room seven at the hotel. He said to find you and send you there.”

  Without stopping to further question this man, Alex turned and rushed toward the hotel. She was oblivious to the sparkling blue eyes watching her hasty progress, the same ones which had watched her entrance and exit from the shop where he held secret meetings with his contacts and where he had once purchased a painting of a siren who looked like her… He couldn’t decide why she wanted a painting of the Black Mist caught in a violent storm.

  Alex hurried toward the entrance in near panic. What would she do if her uncle had met with a fatal accident? She would be all alone in this foreign and hostile land. How badly was he hurt? Her frantic thoughts fluctuated between Henry’s present ill fortune and her own future distress. She rushed up the stairs without bothering to speak with the busy clerk at the long wooden desk. After all, she and her uncle were staying on the second floor of this same hotel. Why hadn’t they taken him to their suite of rooms? She almost ran down the lengthy hallway until she came to room seven. She knocked upon the heavy door, impatiently waiting to be let inside to check her uncle’s state of health.

  The door swung open and she rushed inside. It instantly shut and locked behind her. She whirled in confusion and alarm, fully expecting to find Daniel Grey or a comparative scoundrel poised there. She nearly fainted when her gaze locked with the beguiling and taunting one of Joshua Steele. Eyes wide and lips parted, she simply stared at him in total disbelief.

  He grinned in devilish pleasure. “Been a long time, Angel, but it appears you’ve fared well since your daring escape from me,” he stated in a deceptively calm voice. He leaned negligently against the only exit to this suddenly stuffy room. From his smug expression and roguish mood, he was mentally congratulating himself on his unforeseen good luck.

  “What are you doing here?” she finally managed to get out in a whisper. “How did you find me?”

  “I didn’t,” he replied smoothly. “When I saw you strolling down the street, I couldn’t believe my eyes. How did you get here? I searched half of Florida and the coast looking for you, woman! You gave me quite a scare. I was afraid you’d met with foul play,” he asserted, and Alex almost believed he was serious.

  “I gave you a scare?” she repeated his implausible words. “What about me? Surely you didn’t think I would hang around to be stuck into a slimy brothel!”

  “You mean that little conversation with Andy beneath your balcony which I foolishly allowed you to overhear just to frighten you?” he admitted playfully.

  “You allowed?” she shrieked.

  “Naturally. You were a most stubborn, young lady. I only wanted to scare you into confessing, not endanger your life with a rash escape. How did you get here?” he repeated his inquiry.

  She grinned. “I’m not as stupid as you seem to think, Captain Steele. All it took was some courage, cunning, and planning. Is George all right?”

  Amused by her concern, he chuckled. “A bit embarrassed, but fine. You certainly wasted a lot of my valuable time looking for you,” he irritably snapped at her smug manner.

  “And you didn’t waste any of mine?” she scoffed.

  “I see you’ve returned to the scene of your previous mischief. Looking for more information, my lovely spy, or only trying to replace what I took?”

  “I never was a spy and I’m not now! So don’t start that foolishness again! Now move and I’ll leave.”

  “Not so fast, love. We have some unfinished business.”

  “We have nothing to say, Josh. If you don’t move, I’ll scream so loud your ears will ache for months… in prison, Captain Steele.”

  “I think it would be a wee bit difficult for you to explain your presence in Captain Steele’s room, don’t you, love?”

  “I’ll say you lured me here under false pretenses. Who would take your word against mine? I’ll explain everything.”

  “Afterwards, you can explain how I can identify every mark upon your lovely and traitorous body,” he boldly threatened.

  “You wouldn’t dare!” she shrieked in dismay.

  “Wouldn’t I? What’s the fate for the mistress of a notorious pirate?” His sapphire eyes raked over her ashen face and shaky body.

  “I wasn’t your mistress; I was your prisoner!” she angrily protested, trying to summon her wits and courage.

  “Did you report me when you miraculously returned from your little misadventure? I doubt it. Who would accept this belated tale?”

  “What do you want this time? You already have my silence, among other things,” she sneered, alarmed by his effect upon her.

  “If you’d like your clothes and jewels returned, come and take them from my ship. I see you were crafty enough to take a few of them with you. As for the petticoat, nothing doing You’ll leave this room after you tell me everything I want to know. If not, you’re coming with me,” he smugly issued his terrifying ultimatum.

  “You can’t kidnap me again!” she frantically argued. Even so, she feared he might do just that! She couldn’t endure another bittersweet sojourn on his ship. He would make certain she never escaped again. Yet, she couldn’t very well call out for help. What to do…the truth? No, for she couldn’t discern his loyalties. Now that she partially knew what was on the nefarious petticoat, she was more determined to resist his demands.

  “I want your full name and the information on that petticoat. No more stalling, Angelique. My patience with you has worn dangerously thin.”

  Angelique? she mentally echoed. My full name? Did that mean he was still in the dark about her? She
recalled his earlier words about sighting her on the street. Whatever it took, she had to get free of him quickly before he discovered the truth. What possible reason could she use to discourage him? Did she dare?

  “You can’t take me back to sea, Stephen. Please,” she cautiously began her daring ploy, using every feminine wile she possessed.

  He stared at her. “There you go again, woman! Why do you call me Stephen in times like these and Joshua at other times?” he abruptly asked.

  “Because you are Stephen sometimes and Joshua others. Be Stephen today, please,” she entreated.

  “I can’t, Angel. You have something I want and need. Give it to me and I’ll leave you alone.”

  “For the hundredth time, I can’t decipher that code! And I can’t give you my father’s name. Is that so hard for you to understand and accept?”

  “Impossible,” he coldly stated. “What’s it to be, love?”

  “I can’t answer and I can’t go with you. Even if you don’t care anything about me, there’s someone you should. Damn you, I’m pregnant! I’m getting married in two weeks,” she blurted out.

  “Married? Pregnant?” he repeated in shock. “You work mighty fast, don’t you?” Was that jealousy in his eyes?

  “Not me, you bloody fool! You do. It’s your child I’m carrying! My uncle thinks I was besieged by pirates and ravished by their captain. He’s somehow managed to convince a wealthy friend of his to marry me. Please, just get out of my life and stay out! You’ve done enough damage! Unless you want to wed me and claim your child, don’t prevent this marriage with your stupid charges and selfishness! Damn you, Joshua! I’m not a spy; I swear it. Let me go; please…”

  Spencer stared at her for a long time. “I don’t believe you. How could you be carrying my child?”

  “My God, Stephen! We slept together day and night for months. It isn’t uncommon for a baby to follow such abundant acts of passion. You sound as naive as I was! Can’t you imagine what I felt and thought when the doctor told me that news?” she challenged. “I hoped and prayed I had seen the last of you, but it appears you left a little reminder with me of our stormy interlude.”