The Rebel's Bride

by JoAnn DeLazzari

  Seeing the indecision on the faces of her friends and staff, Catherine knew she had to act. With all her might she twisted away and drove her elbow hard into his ribs at the same time. A burning pain shot through her arm, but she gave her people the impetus they needed to continue.

  Alice brought a heavy skillet down on the major’s head as he lunged for Catherine. In a cacophony of grunts and groans, soldiers began to fall. A ruckus at the front door made every one turn.

  “Holden!” Catherine cried. She ran toward him to throw her arms about his neck. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

  Holden stood and stared. “I think we are a bit late, gentlemen,” he commented to the half dozen men falling in behind him.

  “God’s teeth!” Martin gasped. The tavern keeper was apparently impressed with the damage done to the enemy by a handful of women and children. “You can come work in my tavern whenever ya wish, Mistress Catherine,” he grinned. “I won’t be havin’ no trouble with you there.” He looked down at the captain’s lady and frowned. “Ya ain’t gonna faint now, are ya?”

  Holden smiled over Catherine’s head. “She doesn’t faint, do you Catherine?” His smile faded when he moved her to arms length. “Catherine!” he exclaimed. “You’re hurt!”

  She followed the path of his gaze to where the major’s knife had sliced across her arm—and promptly collapsed.

  * * *

  “Care to have a visitor?” Holden asked from the door.

  Catherine smiled. “Come in, Holden.” She grimaced as Alice tied the bandage about her arm. “How is everything downstairs?”

  “Your petticoat militia managed to kill three, wound three more and render the rest incapacitated.”

  “My what?” she laughed and started to rise.

  “Stay put!” Alice demanded. “Or Holden leaves.”

  “You heard her,” Holden laughed. “And I will never argue with her again, not after I saw her swing that skillet.”

  Catherine relented. She laughed and sat back against the pillows Alice fluffed. “All right. I am behaving. Now, tell me what happened after I left you in charge.”

  Holden took a chair and drew it up beside the bed. “The men have the prisoners in town and your staff is putting the house to order, but some of it requires more than a broom and mop. Seems someone shot out a goodly sized hole in the wall and one of Alice’s victims took a door with him when he went.”

  Catherine shook her head. “But we did it. We saved Devil’s Head for Ransom.”

  “And inspired the town,” Holden added. She questioned him with her eyes and he chuckled. “Every woman in town wants to learn how to use a musket so they can join your group.”

  “That is absurd,” Catherine exclaimed as she covered her mouth to keep herself from laughing.

  “Ain’t absurd,” Alice grinned. “It’s a damned fine idea.”

  Holden snorted as he turned and left the room. “Petticoat militia,” he groaned.

  The moment he was gone, Alice and Catherine exchanged devilish glances. “Sounds good to me,” Catherine commented, trying to assume a serious pose.

  “Me, too,” Alice added. “We run the hearth, why not the home country?” They grinned at each other.

  Catherine sat up. “Shall we go check the damages, Alice.”

  Alice drew a clean shirt from the closet. “Only if you swear to get back ta bed as soon as you’re satisfied all is well.”

  Catherine winced when she moved her arm about to don the new shirt. “I promise.” She grinned at Alice. “As soon as I am satisfied.”

  * * *

  Ransom’s horse stood lathered and blowing on the rise beside Devil’s Head. There seemed to be quite a bit of activity at his house. In fact, there was activity all up and down the river. So much so, he rode through instead of waiting for one of the steamers.

  Uncertain whether his people were preparing for an attack, he pushed the horse the short distance he needed to get home. At the front door, he leaped to the ground. When he saw the front door hung ajar, he rushed forward to discover the cause.

  The entire staff seemed to be working in the foyer, and it definitely needed the attention. There was broken pottery everywhere—and what looked suspiciously like blood.

  Ransom was about to enter when he spotted Holden near the stairs. He stopped. Everyone’s attention turned toward the stairs. He stepped back into the shadows to watch as Holden turned to aid Catherine in her descent. For some reason he felt a burning knot growing in his gut. The look on Holden’s face when he saw Catherine was one of adoration. She smiled broadly.

  Holden reached to take her hand. It was more than Ransom could bear. Enraged, he stepped from the shadows. Instantly, Catherine’s smile vanished. Unfortunately, he did not see it as shock.

  “Ransom, I—”

  He didn’t let her finish. His hand fell on Holden’s wrist and he yanked him about. Without a word, Ransom landed a blow to his jaw so hard Holden fell back against the wall and slid down it until he sat.

  “Ransom!” Catherine cried and tried to push between the two men.

  Turning, Ransom glared down at her. “Stay out of this!”

  Catherine threw back her head defiantly. “I will not!” she declared, moving past him to kneel beside Holden.

  Ransom snarled at both her disobedience and her display over Holden. He couldn’t stand her gentle caring for him when she should have been seeking her husband’s favors. “Get up!” he snapped. He gripped her arm to draw her to her feet.

  Catherine screamed and Ransom immediately released her. Confused by her cry when he had hardly touched her, he stepped back. Before he could think clearly, he saw her begin to collapse.

  Holden threw out his hands to catch her as she stumbled forward. Ignored, Ransom watched him gather Catherine into his arms.

  “Good lord!” Alice cried from the top of the stairs. “What happened?” She made her way quickly to examine Catherine. “Take her upstairs!”

  “I’ll take her,” Ransom challenged as he stepped in front of Holden. For a moment he saw resistance on his friend’s face, but Holden shrugged and settled Catherine into Ransom’s arms. At that moment, her arm was clearly visible and he saw blood. “What has been going on here?”

  “Not now,” Holden shoved him toward the stairs. “Get her upstairs. I’ll explain everything later.”

  Ransom carried Catherine up the staircase. He headed for his room but Alice redirected him.

  “Bring her in here,” she instructed as she held Catherine’s door open. “Your room ain’t ready.”

  When Ransom entered, he saw a pile of bandages and other evidence someone had already been tended there. He laid Catherine gently on the bed and grimaced. Slowly he reached out his hand to caress her pale cheek, but Alice ordered him to move aside. Holden stood at the door. He rubbed his sore jaw and waited for Ransom to join him.

  “What happened to her?” Ransom finally asked as he stood at the foot of the bed so he could watch Alice at work.

  “She was wounded defending your house against a band of drunken British soldiers.”

  Ransom closed his eyes to hide the sympathetic pain he experienced. “Tell me,” he ordered softly.

  Holden left out no details as he recounted the events of the day. He explained the British major was incarcerated in town.

  “I want to see him.” Ransom’s voice was icy cold.

  “Don’t you think you’d better stay here and see to your wife?” Holden snapped. Ransom glared at him. “What are you going to do, Ran? Hit him, too?”

  Ransom’s shoulders slumped. His behavior had been atrocious. “I’m sorry, Holden,” he sighed and rubbed his brow. “It is just that I have anticipated this homecoming for weeks, and when I saw you and her—”

  “She would never play you false,” Holden stated. “And even if I loved her like that, neither would I.”

  “Do you love her?” Ransom asked, hating the question the moment it left his mouth.

  “Yes,
” Holden replied. “I love her strength and her devotion to my best friend. I love the way she strives to please you even as you push her from you.” Ransom winced but Holden went on. “Yes, Ran, I love her, but not the same way you do.”

  “I’ll see to your room,” Alice stated as she pushed her way between the two men.

  Ransom had some soul searching to do. He needed time to settle his mind and his heart. He would not leave Catherine’s side this night. “There is no need, Alice.”

  Alice sighed. “Ya ain’t bein’ fair to her, Cap’n. Ya keep thinkin’ the worst of her and she’s the best ya could ever hope for.” Ready to leave, she paused. “And I think she’s better than ya deserve.”

  Ransom stood staring down at his wife. Holden had been quick to jump to her defense, now Alice. In fact, it seemed his entire staff was there when she needed them. Everyone, that is, except him.

  He sighed deeply, realizing he cast all women into the same mold, including the one who least deserved to be there. She had fought to save what was his. Why? Why would she risk life and limb for a man who all but accused her of treason and deceit—even unfaithfulness?

  He lifted her limp hand into his as he sat on the bed beside her. She was pale, yet it seemed to enhance the myriad of colors in her hair. Strands like spun gold brushed her cheek while rich hues of brown escaped the pins at her neck. She was as much a blending as the colors of her hair.

  As his gaze drank in the beauty of her, her eyes opened. For long moments they merely stared at one another. Overwhelmed by the hurt he saw in her eyes, he could hardly speak.

  “Holden explained,” he offered.

  “You hit him,” she said. Her voice accusing him, “He is your best friend and you hit him?”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Ransom pulled the string that held back his hair. He was tired. He had a headache. His world teetered on the edge of a precipice and all he really wanted to do was draw his wife into his arms. But he had set the mood for this conversation and he would see it through.

  “I apologized and he accepted. Let it rest.”

  “Why did you hit him?” she asked, ignoring his request.

  “Why did you fight your own people to save mine?” he demanded with a great deal more fervor than she.

  Turning her head, she shrugged lightly. “Those men were not my people,” she began. “Though we are spawn of the same country, I have no allegiance to England, no matter what you may have thought.” She sighed. “The only friends I have ever had I have here.”

  Ransom closed his eyes to think over her words. The bed squeaked and he looked up to see her starting to rise. “Where do you think you are going?” He reached for her arm, but recalled her injury. His hand fell firmly on the indentation of her waist.

  “I wish to see to everyone downstairs.” She remained perched on one elbow. “It was what I was about to do when you . . . returned.”

  Ransom frowned. She neither refused to look at him, nor did she indicate she was pleased by his return. Releasing her, he stood. “Should I apologize for that, too?”

  She managed to sit up, but closed her eyes, apparently from the effort. “No,” she murmured. “I am glad you are safely back.” She stood and reached for the bedpost to steady herself. It took all his control not to insist she return to the bed, but he suspected her anger would flare if he did. Finally, on slow, steady feet she started for the door.

  “Catherine?”

  “What is it?” Her voice sounded tired and filled with regret.

  Ransom stepped behind her and his hands gently caressed her shoulders. He was going to make the first move and gamble she did what she did because she cared for him. “I missed you,” he breathed near her ear.

  “Please, don’t,” she moaned softly. “I have to—”

  Ransom turned her into his arms. He claimed her lips with a fiery kiss. She responded instantly, straining to be ever closer to him. There was such desperation in them both, Ransom almost tore her clothing seeking her breasts. He groaned as he touched them through her thin chemise and again when her nails dug into the sinews of his shoulders as she pulled him closer.

  His hands pushed her skirt down over her hips until it pooled at her feet. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. When he had stripped off his boots and the remnants of his shirt, he lay at her side. Careful of her arm, he drew her against him and kissed her again.

  His gaze skimmed the nearly naked beauty of her. “You are more beautiful than I remembered.” His hand traced the path his gaze had taken.

  “Ransom, we need to—”

  Ransom dropped his hand across her lips. “Please, Cat.” He did not want anything to interfere with burying himself deep inside her. “It is not time to talk.” He saw her eyes fill with desire.

  He stood to shed his breeches and enjoyed her bold perusal. When he returned to her side, she lifted her arms to welcome him. It showed in her eyes and the pull of her arms as they circled his neck. She was ready for him, and he more than ready to take her. With trembling fingers, he removed her chemise. Moments later, his hardness thrust into her warmth until he could go no further. He stilled to relish the heat of her, but she began to stir beneath him. Soon, she sobbed his name and clutched tightly to him.

  “I am truly home,” he groaned. He moved, and she met his every thrust.

  Chapter Seventeen

  * * *

  As tired as Catherine was, she could not sleep. Ransom, on the other hand, fell asleep only moments after easing himself to her side. He slept deeply, unaware of her rising. She snuffed two of three burning candles and paused to look at him.

  With the night so warm, he was sprawled naked across the bed, but his appearance certainly wouldn’t help her sort out her thoughts. She tried to place a sheet over him, but he tossed it off in his sleep. She decided to leave him in his natural state rather than chance waking him. She sighed her enjoyment of this private moment.

  Ransom’s skin took well to the sun, darkening where it became exposed. His black hair hung about his neck and shoulders, reminding her again of a barbarian. She recalled the way it hung forward when he held himself above her on arms bulging with power. More pagan than civilized in the throes of passion, it was no wonder she could not refuse him. His masculinity was all-powerful and all-seducing. She closed her eyes a moment to savor the image.

  On dangerous ground with her thoughts, Catherine turned away to search for something to wear. Her arm was sore, but not so bad she could not check the others. Ransom had delayed her long enough. Besides, she wanted to see Holden. She felt responsible for the blow he had received.

  Dressed, she looked back at her husband once more. He had rolled to his side and draped himself across her pillow, perhaps imagining it was her in his sleep.

  Suddenly, a sadness filled her.

  “Couldn’t you love me just a little?” she asked the sleeping man. She blew out the last candle and left the room.

  The house was far quieter than when she came down the first time. She could see the greater part of the mess had been cleaned up and the blood washed from the floor. She heard voices coming from the kitchen and made her way there.

  “Catherine!” Alice called as she entered the cozy room. Holden and several of the staff were there, as well. “We didn’t expect ta see ya, what with the Cap’n—”

  “Sit down, Catherine,” Holden interrupted. When she did, he instructed Alice to get her a cup of tea. “How’s the arm?” he asked.

  “It’s all right,” she smiled gently. “How did everyone else fare?”

  “The petticoat militia did just fine,” he grinned broadly.

  Catherine felt warmth flush her cheeks, “I wish you would stop calling them that.”

  “Best get used to it, Catherine,” John chuckled. He dropped his arm about his wife’s hip when she paused beside him. “Alice here, and the rest, they’re right proud of that name.”

  Unable to resist a smile at the beaming face of her friend, Catherine
shook her head. “Very well, but I want no part of it. It’s all yours.”

  “Too bad,” Holden spoke, his voice filled with mirth. “The town has named you General Kent, leader of this particular militia.”

  “No!” Catherine gasped, wondering what Ransom would say when he heard the tale. “This is ridiculous! I had nothing to do with any of it.”

  “It was your plan what worked,” Alice announced.

  “And the troops were your staff,” John added.

  Catherine sighed deeply. “Ransom will be furious with me if he finds out.”

  “He knows.” Holden shrugged when she glared at him.

  She arched a brow. “And was it you who told him?” He nodded sheepishly. “Then I hope that punch he gave you still hurts.”

  Testing his jaw, Holden shook his head and grinned like a little boy. “Nope, it’s fine.” She groaned and his grin faded. “He was real proud of what you did.” He patted her hand. “Didn’t he tell you?”

  Catherine lowered her head in hopes of hiding her telltale blush, but she was sure everyone could see her glow. “No, he didn’t say a word . . . about that!” she quickly added, inferring they had, indeed, spent some time talking.

  “The way he was lookin’ at ya when I left,” Alice teased, “no doubt he didn’t say much of anything.”

  “Alice,” Catherine groaned.

  Alice chuckled. “Lordy, child, he’s been gone three months. Nobody really expected ta see ya ‘til mornin’.”

  Catherine asked for more tea to change the conversation. While Alice busied herself, Catherine turned to Holden. “What happened to the . . . men who came here?”

  “We have them locked up in town,” he told her. “We’ll turn them over to some military authorities as soon as possible.”

  “Will others come looking for them?”

  Holden shook his head. “Seems they decided to make this raid on their own. They’re more afraid of their commanding officer than ours, especially Major Brown.”