Ruse of Love

by Jerri Hines

  Jonathan nodded, but released her. Walking to the window, he stared blankly out of it for a time. She walked slowly to his side and placed her hand on his arm. He placed his on top of hers and squeezed it gently. “I met him before I left Williamsburg. He was a spy himself. I blame him as much for my father and brother’s death as I do Gannon.”

  “Who, Jonathan?”

  “Marcus Durham, as I met him. Once a colonel in His Majesty’s service, but I was told before coming down to Charles Town there was rumor he was promoted for the role he played in my family’s demise. General Marcus Durham.”

  Startled by the intensity of his words, she turned him to her. “Everyone has his own demons to live with, Jonathan. You did not fail her if that is what is gnawing you. You can’t take on responsibility for what the war has brought.”

  “I agree the war has cost us all, but I refuse to lose anymore,” Jonathan uttered in a softened voice. He reached to her and pushed back fallen tresses of hair from her face. “I want you safe. Go to Williamsburg with Eliza. Wait for me.”

  Lost for words, she nodded. He pulled her into an embrace. His lips scarcely touched hers before she was lost in sheer physical sensation borne with an awareness of a searing desire enveloping her. He feathered kisses over her cheeks, her eyelids, and back to her mouth. Soft and gentle, his kiss turned to a fiery heat that warmed her whole body.

  “Rebekah,” his voice rang in her ears. “Do this and we will have the life we desire. We will have each other.”

  She yielded to his will and his want. His kisses tore through her as he brushed warm kisses along her neck. Rebekah pulled away slowly as she leaned her brow against his cheek.

  “Jonathan, I have another issue that has been plaguing me. My siblings? What will become of them?” Rebekah asked in a quiet voice. “Especially my younger ones, Ruby and Peter. I have been worried with Uncle Adam still their guardian. I can’t leave fearing…”

  “Fear? Why, Rebekah?” Jonathan probed. “I thought the young ones set.”

  Her gaze shifted. She searched for the words to put to her reeling thoughts. “It has been on my mind of late. Uncle Adam hates me so. What if he shifts his anger to the little ones? I’m afraid of what…” She halted her words. Glancing at Jonathan, she saw the confusion in his eyes.

  His brow rose questionably. “Don’t stop. Tell me what is on your mind.”

  Hesitant, she pressed her lips together. “I don’t know whether Mr. Cutler told you about the journal. Ian read it and I know it is what he was using to blackmail my uncle to let me go without incident. I found it after I was rescued. I know it has to be the reason Mr. Cutler was allowed to be my guardian.”

  “Hold, Rebekah. I’m not sure I understand. This is the first I have heard of this journal. With everything going on, why is this the first I’ve heard of it?”

  Rebekah shook her head. “I don’t know. Perhaps it doesn’t mean anything, but I worry. You don’t know my uncle…”

  Jonathan halted her ramblings. “Hold, Rebekah, your uncle?”

  “Yes, Rebekah, tell him. Tell him about your uncle.”

  Roused fears emerged as the voice resounded in the room. Rebekah abruptly turned. Her face whitened while she stumbled back into Jonathan’s protective arms. There he stood...Rory, Black Rory, leaning against the doorway, staring intently at the scene in front of him.

  Arms pushed her back, strong arms behind his body. Stunned, she stood wordless until the realization overwhelmed her. Eliza! Panic gripped her.

  "The baby," escaped her lips. Jonathan's hold remained, refusing to let Rebekah move.

  "Calm yourself, Rebekah," Rory exclaimed. He had changed little in her eyes. He smiled an arrogant, hard smile. "Despite the claims of all around you, I ask you, Rebekah. Do you really think I would harm my own child, my own child?" His words echoed in the room, his meaning clear. "You think so little of me, Rebekah? Do you?"

  "What do I know of you?" Her voice rose with indignation, forgetting for the moment the fear she had for the man in front of her. "You sold me to the highest bidder, Rory. It did little to endear me to you."

  He shrugged, choosing to ignore her outburst. He turned his attention to Jonathan, who stood with one arm gripping Rebekah, the other holding tightly to the butt of the pistol at his waist.

  Rory's eyebrow rose slightly, motioning to Jonathan. "If you value your life or anyone's in this room, you'll release that hold. And if you wonder about Cutler's men, they have been taken care of—all that weren't mine to start."

  Rebekah watched Rory walk to Jonathan and snatch the pistol. He moved, but her hand immediately rounded Jonathan desperately. "Don't, Jonathan," she pleaded. "Don't."

  “Yes, Doctor Corbett. Isn’t it? Don’t. It wouldn’t be wise. I know of you and your desire to possess what is mine.”

  “How dare you even consider that I’m yours or Eliza!” Rebekah cried. “You gave all away. Threaten harm to my family. Used me…”

  Her words were interrupted as suddenly Rory reached behind Jonathan and grabbed her. She screamed. Immediately, a cry emerged: a wail—loud. Strength that comes only from the fear of a child's harm, she broke free and rushed to the crib. She reached down and picked up her precious.

  Slowly the infant calmed. Bouncing the baby gently in her arms, she glanced up to find Rory's eyes on her. Rory reached over and took the baby. Frightened beyond belief, Rebekah found she couldn't breathe as her hold was released. Fussing for only a moment, Rebekah heard her child find her fist and suck loudly on it.

  Rory looked over at Rebecca. His expression softened. "Do you think I haven't seen her? Held her when you weren’t in the house? Come, Rebekah. I have let the facade go on long enough. Even I can't ensure your safety as it is at the moment."

  "What do you mean?" Her voice quivered. Her eyes glanced frantically back and forth from Jonathan to Rory.

  "I've come to retrieve my daughter, Rebekah.”

  "No, no, you can't." She reached desperately for Eliza. Rory turned to his side.

  "So swift with your words! I came to offer you what you want. Did you not tell me you wanted to go away with me and start a new life? Or did you so hastily say words to fill my ears?”

  Outraged, Rebekah cried, “You are mad! You lied to me. You used me as a pawn. You sold me to the highest bidder. You tried to kill me and my unborn child. Whatever I may have felt for you is dead.”

  “No, my dear.” Rory reached across and touched her face. She slapped his hand away from her person. He laughed. “You’re right, I had plans. You fell into my hands. I had everything I had hoped and prayed for. The perfect revenge. You were so innocent. So naïve. All worked perfectly except…” He looked down at the babe. “My plans altered. I had no choice but to leave you at that moment, but if you thought for a second I deserted you, you were sadly mistaken. I do not leave what is mine for others and I protect what is mine. I will not sit back and wait until harm is done to either you or our daughter.”

  A shiver of dread crawled up Rebekah’s spine. Fighting back the trepidation welling in her, she said, “I’m not yours. I have no doubt you knew about Ian’s will. You let me go so I would receive his estate. I’m not the innocent who once believed every word you spoke to me. I tell you now you will never receive another penny from his estate.”

  “And the reason…” Rory’s eyes simmered against Jonathan, who up to this time stood silently in the shadows where he had been placed. “Can easily be dealt with.”

  A horrified gasp escaped Rebekah as she realized his intent. She reached for Jonathan’s hand, but he pushed her behind him.

  “You know I will never allow you to take either Rebekah or Eliza,” Jonathan said with an eerily calm tone, his manner well controlled. He pressed, “You say you have come to protect Rebekah. Was it not you? Have you not stalked Rebekah? Did you not try to do her harm in Charles Town?”

  “God, no!” Rory blared. “I have tried to get to her, yes. That woman was supposed to deliver Rebekah to me, b
ut not at the inn. I realized the bitch betrayed me when I learned she called for Rebekah to meet her at the inn. Someone set Rebekah up. I was there only to protect Rebekah. I dared to go into Charles Town to protect her. Why in God’s name would I want to do her harm when I’ve risked my life to protect her? I have set in a motion a plan since she reemerged here in Beaufort.”

  Rebekah saw a look of alarm sweep across Jonathan’s face. Rebekah stiffened. Her thoughts flew. Her insides went cold with dread. “Rory,” she uttered in a low voice. “If it wasn’t you that attacked, then who? It hasn’t been you who has been trying to harm us?”

  “Why do you think I’m here?” Rory asked haltingly.

  “Because of the attack,” Jonathan answered hauntingly. “You reacted. Cutler reacted. And now all are here under one roof.”

  “This, Dr. Corbett, isn’t your concern now,” Rory motioned with his hand behind him for a man to move into view. “Tobias, take the good doctor…”

  Jonathan slung the man’s arms off him. Pushing hard, he banged the man back against the door. “No, listen,” he uttered emphatically. “It’s what has been bothering me. It made no sense, but think. Think! To attack, but not venture in. Only to see the defense layout! To get all to respond.”

  In the dim light, Rebekah saw Rory’s expression alter, concern riddled in his eye. The baby whimpered. A few more seconds, Rebekah knew she would be screaming. Jonathan raced to the window.

  Looking out briefly, he announced in a low voice, “We’ve got company.”

  Rebekah froze, unable to move. Her heart pounded so loudly she thought it would explode out of her chest. Jonathan motioned for her to move toward him, but she couldn’t. Her eyes betrayed her fear.

  “Who are we dealing with?” Jonathan demanded.

  Rebekah glanced back at Rory, who bent and kissed his daughter’s cheek before handing her back to Rebekah. He knew, as did she. She glanced back at Jonathan. She said simply, “Uncle Adam.”

  Jonathan hadn’t time to contemplate her answer for a clear understanding dawned on him. He gestured frantically toward the window that overlooked the darkened wooded area. From his vantage, he saw a wavering, shifting light calling attention to movement in the darkness. A tall, dark form could be seen running back toward the woods. A moment later the figure came back toward the house at a run.

  In the stealthy cloak of darkness, Jonathan suddenly made out a group of men slithering into the lawn toward the house. The cloudy night gave way to little moonlight, but the lanterns swung with every step the aggressors took.

  Rory sprang to the window, concern illuminating from his eyes. Jonathan comprehended quickly these weren’t Rory’s men. In Rory, Jonathan saw a fear realized. A hush fell over the room. Rory twisted around and gripped Rebekah as if to wake her from a trance. For a brief moment, Jonathan glimpsed a different man than his persona. The man known as the devil on horseback was now on the other end, trying to protect his own.

  “Tobias, take Rebekah and the baby. Go!” He frowned deeply and turned to Jonathan. “You know the plan. Cutler had to have a plan.”

  “Of course, we have a plan, but wait!” Jonathan interjected with an urgency that couldn’t be denied. “Have you not figured it out? Whoever is doing this has planned well. I would wager they know every conceivable thought of escape. We have to cause a diversion and then have them go a different way…”

  “Toward Fairmont. Away from the waterway,” Rory agreed.

  From the corner of his eye, he watched as Rebekah took her small infant into her arms. Her eyes misted as she caressed the tiny cheek. Her trembling hand covered her mouth as if to keep back her cries.

  “Call for Jasper,” Jonathan told Rory. “He’ll be able to see to her safety. He’s devoted to her and Eliza.”

  Rory nodded to Tobias. Tobias withdrew swiftly. Rory stood in the doorway. “Come, we need to get downstairs.”

  Rebekah gripped Jonathan’s arm, her eyes wide with fear. She questioned anxiously, “How much time do they need for a diversion to get safely away?”

  Unconsciously he shook his head, not in a reassuring manner. If he was correct in his assessment, the assault would be quick and fierce. A shot rang out. A scurry of firings followed. Jonathan pressed Rebekah behind him.

  “Stay down,” Jonathan said in a deep voice. “Whatever happens, you go with Jasper. Do you understand? We will draw the fire away from back of the house.”

  She nodded, clinging tightly to Eliza. She mouthed, “I love you.”

  He stared at her for a moment before Rory commanded, “We have to go, Doc. Now.”

  Jonathan leaned over and searched her face in the shadows surrounding them. “I love you, too. Have faith. We’ll get you out of this. Be brave.”

  His heart tore, watching tears flow down her cheek unchecked.

  “Of course,” she answered.

  “Doc, if you want to live to see another day…” Rory held out the pistol he took from Jonathan. Rory gave him a pithy glare and shoved the gun into his hand. “Don’t make me regret this. It will not bode well for you.”

  Jonathan ignored Rory’s words and took the gun. He didn’t look back as he ran down the stairs.

  Rebekah stared at the open door, holding her daughter. She could not quell the unceasing frantic thudding of her heart. Her little one fussed as the sounds became louder and louder. Shots fired. Sully entered and cowered in the corner, unable to move.

  Rebekah ignored her. Instead, her attention set fully on her daughter. “Now, now, my darling, Momma will make all right,” she whispered, but trepidation lived in her. She had done this. Her desire to stay close to Jonathan; her indecisions had placed her child in dire straits. Now her own selfishness would cost Eliza her life!

  She should have known Rory would never have tried to harm his child. Her…she didn’t know what Rory wanted from her…but Eliza. He had seen Eliza; held his daughter. He loved her, of that now she held no doubt. It would have taken great effort for him to have seen his child while she wasn’t at the house. She hadn’t gone out often, only when duty called for her to visit Fairmont.

  Did it make a difference to her? She didn’t have time to contemplate anything other than saving her daughter and Jonathan…. She should have never let her defenses down with him and accepted what he had to offer. He was going to die because of her! Her heart swelled. Oh, Jonathan, what have I gotten you into?

  Within her, resolution grew. Eliza needed to get to Williamsburg. This woman, Lydia, the one Jonathan spoke so fondly of—she could care for Eliza. If it was the last thing she did… Footsteps pounded in the hall to the doorway, she glanced up. Jasper paused before the door.

  “Miss Rebekah, they tole me to wait with ya.’ If we need…”

  “Yes, Jasper,” she said soundly. “Quickly, we don’t have time to argue. We have to get Eliza out of here.”

  Good Gawd! Jonathan thought. We’re in a damn battle. Ambushed! As he had feared, the assault seemed well planned. From the look on Black Rory’s face, Jonathan quickly surmised that he had been betrayed by men he had placed in here, giving to their assailant not only knowledge of Cutler’s defense, but Rory’s.

  The front and back entrances were covered. Jonathan placed himself by the kitchen window, straining to make out the ebony shadows which fired in the darkness. From behind, he could hear swearing. Sweat covered his brow.

  His pistol half-cocked, leaning against the wall, his eyes caught sight of a figure of a woman emerging from the shade haven of the house from the window. Even in the dimness of the light allowed, he made out a small bundle carried closely to her chest. His heart stopped midbeat. Rebekah! Immediately, he raised himself out of his crouched position. Rory saw also, yelling frantically to cease firing.

  The choice was simple and made without a second thought. Jonathan flung open the backdoor and ran out the back steps. Too late! An assailant had hold of her. She screamed frantically, gripping tightly her bundle. A horde of men encompassed her. He raced toward her
, but a dark form emerged from the shadows, reaching her well before him.

  She screamed a smothering cry. A hand raised above her soundly came down and came down across her face. Another scream…he called out, but a sudden spurt of pain hit him from behind. Wheeling, he felt up to the back of his head. His hand came down covered with a dark reddish liquid. Shot? He tried to ignore his head spinning. He fell on his knees. The last thing he remembered before everything went dark was a voice that seemed as though the devil himself roared.

  “Rags! She’s carrying rags! You Goddamn fools!”

  Jonathan stirred and moaned. He lay on the wet, soft ground, a deadly silence around him. Despite his agonizing headache, he pushed up. A dim light threw eerie specters in the back of his eyelids. His head swam with a quaking ache. He reached back to his head.

  A graze only! They must have thought him dead. The ache splintered and became a dull, pounding pain. His eyes blurred. He squinted, trying to focus, and blinked away the fog. He sat up—underneath him his pistol, still half-cocked. How long had he been out?

  A sickening dizziness swept over him as he regained much of his senses. Sounds emerged while he composed himself, turning slowly. The house sat solemnly in the darkness. Lanterns lit the rooms. Strangely, from his view, he could see only two men guarding the front doors.

  He eased back on his all-fours, crawling to a dead man next to him. Taking a knife from the dead man’s belt, he crept back toward the house, unseen to the drawing room’s window. He gasped on the sight.

  Hog-tied in the middle of the floor, Rory lay sprawled out. Rebekah sat stoically in a chair, her head dropped. Suddenly in his full view, a deformed figure of a man appeared. Half his face scarred from a long-ago burn, he wore no hat. His bald head held scars also. One eye elongated from what was left of the form of a nose. Hunched over, he walked with a limp and carried a cane in his hand. He whacked the man next to him.

  “They should be back by now. I told you I wanted time to enjoy my job. I don’t like to be rushed in my work. If I am rushed, someone will pay.”