In Enemy Hands

by Linda Winstead Jones

  “He was.” Lily’s voice was low as well. A host of emotions flowed across her face. Anger. Sadness. A poignant look that broke Quint’s heart. “He… died a couple of years ago. A little more than two years ago, actually.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Lily lifted her eyes to him. He saw a moment’s hesitation, a fragment of time when she perhaps considered showing him something beneath her careful charade. He wanted to see more of the woman behind the mask.

  “No,” she finally answered, but he had seen the warring emotions on her face.

  The final game was the longest, the most fiercely competitive, but in the end Lily beat him fair and square, and the victory lit up her face. It was worth defeat, Quint decided, to see that look.

  Cora’s continued and increasing interruptions reminded Quint that it was time to depart. He didn’t want to leave Lily. The thought of returning to his hotel room left him empty. The room would be cramped and lonely, and Dennison and Wright suddenly seemed poor companions for the evening. But he stood, and Lily handed him his cane.

  “It’s been a most enjoyable afternoon,” he said sincerely. “I hope you’ll allow me a rematch.”

  “Of course,” Lily answered with a smile.

  Quint wanted to kiss her good-bye. It didn’t have to be a passionate kiss like the one on the hotel balcony. Just a brief touching of their lips—that was all he wanted. That would satisfy him.

  Liar, he chided himself. Cora was hanging over her mistress, a warrior-like chaperone, so he couldn’t enjoy even that simple touch. But he knew it wouldn’t have been enough.

  He wanted her. All of her. He wanted to kiss her hands, the hands she hid from him. He wanted to feel her breasts under his palms, in his mouth. He wanted to lock her in a room, any room with a bed, and make love to her until neither of them could move. His visit had done nothing toward ridding his thoughts of Lily Radford. If anything, he suspected his obsession with her was only stronger than before. He would dream about her tonight, again.

  There was a stirring in his loins even as he walked away from Lily Radford’s house, and he cursed his own imagination.

  He wanted her.

  But he couldn’t have her.

  Quint leaned back in his chair and studied the cards he held. He’d lost a fortune, but he couldn’t keep his mind on the game. Dennison was winning big, and John Wright had won a fair amount as the evening passed. The other two sailors had lost almost as much as Quint. Almost.

  It was Lily Radford. She was forever in the back of his mind, smiling at him over the chess pieces, leaning toward him ever so slightly. He wanted to kiss her again, more than he’d ever wanted anything.

  It was insane. He barely knew the woman, and she was another man’s mistress. It was scandalous, as she’d admitted, but Quint found that he couldn’t think less of her for it. She was beautiful, but not, Quint admitted to himself, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her mouth was a little too full, and her hair seemed to curl with a mind of its own. She was too tall, not at all dainty.

  No matter how hard Quint tried to convince himself that Lily was not perfect, he couldn’t quite accomplish his goal. He liked her mouth too full, he liked her curling hair, and she fit perfectly in his arms, so she couldn’t possibly be too tall. He was drawn to her, and there was nothing he could do about that. Why couldn’t she be a simple shopkeeper’s daughter? Why did she have to be Captain Sherwood’s mistress?

  It was the island. An island so beautiful, so enchanting, it would have been a wonder if he didn’t find himself entranced by some woman. After the years of fighting, of seeing death and bloodshed until he was sick of the sight, Nassau was a real paradise. He’d left behind the chill of the North for the balmy breezes of the island, the snowstorms and cold winds for gentle afternoon showers that fell to earth so softly, they seemed to be a gift from above, never a curse.

  It was a good place to fall in love.

  The thought shook him. He hadn’t imagined himself in love since he’d left his home and Alicia. He hadn’t imagined that he would ever find himself caught up in that emotion again. It was a trap that clouded a man’s thinking, and Quint didn’t want to fall in love… with Lily Radford or anyone else.

  “Come on, Tyler,” John Wright prompted. “You can join us any time.” The burly captain leaned toward Quint and waved a big hand in his face. “It’s your bid.”

  Quint tossed a coin absently into the pot and looked at his cards. There was nothing there. He was going to lose again.

  Dennison was frowning slightly, and he leaned closer to Quint. “I seen the same look on your face as when I surprised you and Miss Lily at the ball,” he said in a low voice. “It’s a sad state of affairs when a man allows a woman to muddle his brain. I like you, Tyler,” he added. “I don’t want to have to bury you when Sherwood gets his hands around your bleedin’ neck.”

  Quint ignored Dennison’s dire warnings.

  He lost everything he had on him, then threw his cards onto the center of the table. Wright poured Quint a drink and slapped him on the back as he attempted to console the loser.

  “Better luck next time,” Wright drawled, his Texas accent setting him apart from the British captains who frequented the hotel. “Have a drink on me, Tyler.”

  Quint lifted the glass to his lips and emptied it in one toss. The other players, the other losers, had drifted away one at a time, and there were just the three of them remaining at the table. They hovered over their drinks in the smoke-filled room.

  Quint tried to remind himself that this was why he was in Nassau. Not to get blindsided by a woman, but to gather information.

  Dennison was moodily silent, as he sometimes was, but John Wright had had a bit too much to drink, and he started to talk in a loud whisper. Boasting. Telling secrets.

  For the first time that evening, Quint was able to forget Lily, as he leaned forward and listened carefully to Captain Wright.

  Seven

  Quint waited a few days before returning to Lily’s house. He didn’t want to appear too eager, and in truth he wanted to allow himself time to cool off and come to his senses. He couldn’t possibly allow the woman to affect him the way she did.

  Captain Wright, after winning the last two big hands and downing enough rum for three thirsty men, had started bragging about the special cargo he would be transporting within the week. Quint had listened intently, keeping his eyes half closed and occasionally allowing his gaze to wander over the room, as if he were not quite paying attention.

  No one questioned that Quint was a loyal Southerner, and Wright was looking for approval, even a measure of respect, when he told Quint about the machinery he would be taking out in a few days. Marine engines for Confederate ironclads that were being built in Charleston. Two pairs of direct-acting steam engines. A marine engine works was under construction somewhere in Georgia, but until it was complete the South was dependent upon the British manufacturers and the blockade runners.

  Eleanor had been delighted with the information, not only about what Wright was carrying in his cargo hold, but when his ship would be leaving Nassau and that his destination was Charleston. The Union blockaders would be waiting for Wright and would confiscate the engines.

  Quint tried to push all that from his mind as he rapped his cane against Lily’s door. The red door was opened by a frowning Cora. Quint gave her his most charming smile, flashing dimples and white teeth, but she was evidently unmoved.

  “Is Miss Radford at home?” Quint asked when Cora showed no intention of inviting him in.

  “Miss Radford is busy,” Cora answered him curtly, and then she attempted to close the door in his face.

  Quint stuck out his cane to stop the door. “Could I wait? I’m afraid I’ve overdone it again, and my leg is killing me.” He tried to look pitiful and must have succeeded, because Cora sighed heavily.

  “She’s in the garden,” Cora snapped. “Follow the stone path around back and you’ll find ’er
.”

  Quint turned away as the door slammed shut, and he tapped his cane against the stone walk that wound its way around the house and down a gentle incline. He could see a profusion of brightly colored flowers in the distance, red and pink and coral against a sea of lush green foliage. He passed Cora on the path. She was heading back toward the house, out of breath and giving him the same hateful glare she had given him when she’d first opened the door. She must have run from a back entrance to warn her mistress that he was coming. Quint was disappointed. He would have been pleased to catch Lily unaware, just to see what she was like in an unguarded moment.

  Lily was waiting for him, seated on a wrought-iron bench amidst the almost wild flora. He would have thought she’d prefer a well-tended and orderly garden, rows of roses and lilies carefully trimmed and contained, but this garden was a wild paradise, the plants encroaching over the stone walkway, the leaves of the flowering vines and bushes mingling, fighting as they reached for the sun.

  The garden that surrounded her was wild, but Lily herself was composed, more distant than usual, with a determined set to her face and her gloved hands folded primly in her lap.

  “Mr. Tyler, what a pleasant surprise.” From the tone of her voice, he wondered if she really and truly found the surprise pleasant. There was an uncomfortable strain in her voice, and a stubborn firmness of her mouth that he didn’t like at all.

  “It’s Quint, remember? I came to challenge you to a rematch.” He tried the charming smile he had bestowed on Cora, with dismal results. There was no softening of Lily’s lips, no easing of the tension on her face. Perhaps his smile wasn’t as charming as he’d imagined.

  “A rematch,” Lily repeated. “You must mean our chess game.”

  Quint frowned. She was playing the coquette for him again, smiling absently and looking everywhere but at his face.

  “Of course our chess game. You promised me a rematch.”

  Lily lifted the fan that lay at her side, and Quint took advantage of her move, lowering himself beside her and stretching out his right leg. She fanned herself furiously and gave him a sidelong glance as he pretended to study the vine that meandered along the side of the wrought-iron bench. When he turned back to her, she lowered her eyes and seemed to concentrate on the buttons of his gray waistcoat.

  “I really don’t enjoy chess all that much,” she whined. “It gives me such a headache. I don’t know why I got all excited over a little ol’ game of chess. I much prefer to work on my samplers and to read poetry in my spare time.”

  Quint wanted to shake Lily and call her the liar she was, but he controlled the urge, gripping the serpentine head of his cane. He hadn’t mistaken the joy on her face when she’d beaten him, the cunning in her eyes as she planned her strategy against him.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I enjoyed our games very much.” Quint wanted to take her chin in his hand and lift her face to his. She was hiding from him, averting her eyes and reverting to her defensive position. But he kept his hands to himself.

  “Perhaps you could… read some of your favorite poetry to me.” Mentally, he cringed. He hated poetry, but if that was what it took to be close to Lily….

  “I don’t think you should come here anymore, Mr. Tyler,” Lily said quickly, the words rushing out of her mouth.

  This time he couldn’t resist the temptation, and he lifted her face gently. “Why?” His voice was little more than a whisper, a hint of confusion and hurt in it that he couldn’t disguise.

  Lily didn’t jerk away from him or try to avert her eyes. She met his gaze with a determined strength in her own turquoise stare. “That’s just the way it has to be. I don’t want you to come here again.”

  Quint looked for some sign that she was lying and was disappointed when he didn’t see one. “Is it Captain Sherwood?”

  “Yes,” Lily said, and he could see the truth of the answer in her eyes.

  “Do you love him?” It was a whispered question, hesitant and probing. God help him, if she said no he just might carry her away with him. Leave Nassau, leave the business of spying that he was beginning to detest, leave everything behind.

  Lily hesitated, and that gave him a moment of hope. But when she answered, her voice was sure and unwavering.

  “I’m committed to the Captain.” That was the truth. Lily didn’t like lying to Quintin Tyler. It was somehow harder than deceiving the entire town. So far she had told him nothing but the truth. She couldn’t see him again because of the Captain, and she was committed… until the war was over.

  She didn’t move away from him until he lowered his head to kiss her, and then she backed away with a jerk and rose from her seat. She liked it too much, wanted it too much, and he would be able to tell. It would be much easier if they could make a clean break.

  Lily’s heart did a flip in her chest, but she gave no outward sign. She had made up her mind after a long and sometimes heated discussion with Cora and Tommy.

  She couldn’t see Quint again. If she ran into him in town—well, that was unavoidable. But she couldn’t allow herself to let down her guard as she had that afternoon when he’d appeared on her doorstep. Not now. What she was doing was more important than a passing attraction to a charming gambler, a man too like her lackadaisical brother for her tastes. A handsome face, a practiced womanizer. That was all Quintin Tyler was.

  “Please behave yourself, Mr. Tyler,” she drawled.

  “Quint.”

  “I’m afraid you’ve misinterpreted my actions, Mr. Tyler.” Lily wrung her gloved hands. “You see, I do find you quite attractive, and a pleasant diversion on a quiet afternoon. But I must confess that I am sometimes peeved with Captain Sherwood, and I do try unmercifully to attract his attention.” She was unable to look at him as she delivered this lie. “I sometimes accuse him of likin’ his little ol’ boat more than he likes me.”

  Quint tapped the end of his cane against the stone walk at his feet as he stared at her unmercifully. “You were trying to make Captain Sherwood jealous?” he asked testily.

  Lily smiled coyly. “Why, yes, and it worked quite well, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Lily,” he said bitterly, rising with little difficulty. “I’m happy to be of service.”

  The look of thunder on his face was so startling that she turned away from him and ran up the winding path.

  She ran from him as if he were the devil himself, her skirt in her hands as she fled swiftly, and not with the delicate, tiny steps of a twittering, silly girl, but with long strides that carried her away from him quickly.

  Lily slowed her steps as she approached the house. Cora was standing in the back doorway, an entrance that led to the kitchen. She was waiting, steadfast and unsmiling, and she closed the door behind Lily and then peered through the pane of glass that was set in the kitchen door, watching the path. Lily didn’t watch. She stepped away from the door, keeping her back to Cora.

  Cora made a small noise of disgust, an unladylike grunt, and Lily knew that her aunt was watching Quint climb the hill. Lily left the kitchen, afraid even to turn around and risk glimpsing Quint.

  Cora followed Lily into the parlor. “So, it’s done?” she asked.

  “Aye, it’s done,” Lily answered, so little of her Southern accent left in her voice that Quint wouldn’t have recognized it as her own. She turned to face Cora with grim resolve. “You were right. I can’t afford to get involved at a time like this.”

  Cora nodded sympathetically. “You’ve done what you ’ad to do to preserve us all. Tyler’ll soon find another woman to charm. Men like ’im always do.”

  Lily accepted the decision she had been forced to make without a tear or an enraged word. There would be no sniffles, no quiet tears, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

  “After the war, there will be time for such fanciful notions as ’andsome gamblers and ’eart-stopping kisses,” Cora said in a lightly teasing voice. Lily knew her aunt was only trying to make her feel better, but her light-he
arted words only made the pain deeper and sharper.

  “I’m sorry,” Cora said softly, her smile fading. “You really liked the bloke, didn’t you?”

  “Aye.” Lily smiled at her aunt’s choice of words, a small, sad smile. “I really liked the bloke. Bloody hell, what if I never meet another man I like so much?” She was certain that by the time the war ended, Quintin Tyler would have moved on to some other place, some other woman.

  “The world is full o’ men,” Cora exclaimed. “Each one built much like another, though not many as finely put together as your gambler.”

  “Thanks for reminding me of that, Cora,” Lily snapped. Of course, Cora was right. Tommy was right. There was no time in her life for entanglements of the heart, no time to waste on thoughts of warm lips and charming dimples. And it was true enough that the dark-eyed man who had bedeviled her from the moment she’d seen his face was not the only attractive man on the face of the earth.

  But Lily had a sinking feeling that she would never again meet a man who made her feel the way Quintin Tyler did.

  Quint banged on Eleanor Slocum’s door with a quiet vengeance, the constant tapping of his cane against the door stopping only when it was opened to him, the door swinging back swiftly.

  He was pacing in the gloomy, semi-dark study where he always met Eleanor Slocum when she entered the room. There was a gleam of excitement in her eyes. Was she wondering what news had brought him to her so soon after his last visit? Was she expecting some brilliant piece of information from him? She was in for a surprise.

  Eleanor seated herself at her desk, back straight and eyes alight as she stared at Quint. Instead of taking his usual chair, Quint placed his hands on the edge of her desk and leaned forward. Her smile and the light in her eyes dimmed, and she pulled back slightly.

  “I quit,” he muttered, his eyes half closed, his mouth grim. To her credit, Eleanor didn’t flinch at his obvious anger, didn’t even blink as he stared at her.

  “You can’t quit,” she reasoned, her voice and demeanor as calm as ever.

  “Watch me.” Quint backed away from the desk, but he didn’t sit. He couldn’t. “I’m getting nowhere with Captain Sherwood. Hell, I’ve never even seen the man. I’ve sucked all the information out of the captains who are willing to gamble and drink the night away…. ”