Rebel Dreams

by Patricia Rice

  The termagant simply kept walking, forcing him to keep up with her or rip her arm off. “What do you mean, ‘men like that’? They’re friends of my father’s, friends of mine. They are respectable, intelligent people. Have you friends who are any better?”

  Since he had cut himself off from his drinking, gambling, whoring acquaintances some years ago when he went into trade, Alex could not respond adequately. He still found it hard to deal with the idea of a lady in breeches. To think of her in terms of friend to radical Whigs was almost beyond his capacity.

  “They might have been your father’s drinking buddies, but they are no friends to you if they entangle you in their seditious activities. You would do well to stay away from them.”

  Evelyn turned on him in fury. “Then perhaps you would do well to stay away from me. I am not a child or a fool. I am as capable of reasoning as you are. More so, obviously. You have no right to dictate to me.”

  Angry women, Alex understood. Generally, it was just simpler to walk out on them, but he had no desire to leave this one alone. Knowing what he had in mind would make her even more furious, he couldn’t resist the temptation of flashing eyes.

  He wrapped his arm around Evelyn’s waist and lifted her into the darkness of a nearby alley, where he bent to silence their argument with his lips, the best manner known to him.

  She pounded his chest with both fists, but she didn’t turn her head away. He used one hand to capture her weapons, holding them against his heart while his lips closed over hers. When she refused to succumb to his pressure, he teased light kisses along her mouth until she was leaning into him, seeking more. This time when he asked for entrance, she gave it.

  The touch of her tongue shook him more than he expected. He hugged her closer, fitting her against him as their kisses deepened and strained for closer joining. With wonder, Alex discovered tears coursing down Evelyn’s cheeks. He kissed away their saltiness, releasing her mouth while still holding her close.

  “Don’t cry, little tyrant. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Evelyn rested her head on his shoulder. Alex held her, rubbing his hand up and down her spine. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he discovered a terrible need to seek this tenderness more often.

  He had never held a woman in innocence. He had time to absorb the tiny sensations, the sweetness of her breath, the silkiness of her cheek and hair. The lust was still there, but muted by the discovery of her tears. She fitted so perfectly into his arms, curving into him in all the right places despite his height, that he was reluctant to end his hold. He pressed a kiss above her ear and allowed his hand to slide to the tempting curve of her rounded bottom.

  “We have a problem here, my darling.” The drawl in his voice was mocking, but the mockery was for himself. When she tried to push away, he gentled her with soft strokes. “Don’t be angry again. I’m trying to learn. It just takes some getting used to.”

  Evelyn spread her palms flat against the linen on his chest and tilted her head back to observe him better. “I’m angry with myself,” she whispered. “We had better go home now.”

  She didn’t push from his arms, and Alex didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed. She made it impossible for him to think. His only impulse was to hold her and never let go. “That’s an excellent idea. Do you remember how to get there?”

  She laughed softly, and he felt joy that she was as lost as he in this new discovery. In the morning they would wake and come to their senses.

  Evelyn cuddled closer. “Home is somewhere out there on the other side of the moon. Perhaps if we tried walking, we might find it.”

  “I fear not, but I’m willing to try if you’ll stay by my side. I don’t want to go alone.” Alex caught her hand in one of his and held her gaze, willing her to understand what he could not fathom himself. All his life he’d been empty inside. Now suddenly, strangely, he’d begun to feel again.

  She touched his bandage with her free hand and smiled. “I think the blow affected your brains, sir. You had best not be left unattended.”

  With a wry smile he made a leg and gestured to the street. “Shall we go, then, my lady?”

  Not releasing his hand, Evelyn followed him back to the cobblestone street.

  “I have a mad cousin by the name of Alyson who believes the moon drives us to strange notions,” Alex told her. “Moon dreams, she calls them. Do you think she may be right?”

  “Almost certainly. Daylight ought to be a cure. Shall we write to your cousin and ask?”

  “Her replies are seldom sensible, and I have a feeling sensibility is required here.” Alex squinted upward and found the sliver of moon overhead. That particle of light couldn’t be sufficient to drive men mad. Rationality was already returning.

  Evelyn must have felt it too. She sighed. “Is your cousin truly mad? It might be the better way to be.”

  “On the whole, I daresay you’re right. Alyson is utterly content in her own little world. She lives on the outer borders of nowhere in the heathen hills of the Highlands with an equally mad Scot and two holy terrors and an assortment of ferocious characters who would make Blackbeard shiver. And she loves it. In her case, madness is a definite benefit.”

  Evelyn smiled upon him with approval. For just this one perfect moment, they were in harmony. “I wish I could meet her. Perhaps her happiness could be contagious.”

  The mood slithered away faster than Alex could grasp it. Ugly reality had a way of rearing its head. He shook his head and felt the dull ache return. “Not for us. We’ve been inoculated with common sense. Alyson’s husband once said Alyson would go happily to meet her death. The two of us would fight death every inch of the way. There have to be people like us to protect the Alysons of the world.”

  Death wasn’t the only thing they would fight. Their argument of earlier would be only one of many. They were too different, too far apart in their thinking to ever reach a modicum of agreement. Their kisses were only a mad flight into fantasy. He knew that. He hoped Evelyn did, too.

  “Shall I disagree with you and give us something new to argue about?” She lifted her gaze to his and met his rueful grin.

  “It’s a topic I’m willing to argue but not eager to win. I’ve never kissed a lady in breeches before. Do you think we might try it just one more time before the moon goes down?”

  They had wandered to the enveloping shadows of the grove of elms and the Liberty Tree. The first leaves were just turning yellow, but the shadows were deep and welcoming. Without a word, Evelyn came into his arms. For just this one moment, Alex surrendered his sanity for the sake of a dream. Rebellious dreams, perhaps, but joyous ones.

  Her lips were both gentle and hungry as they touched his. There had to be a time and place for the two of them. Alex wrapped caught her up in his embrace. If only now could be the time. She parted her lips, and he twined his fingers in her hair. Now. He needed her now.

  Chapter 12

  “The whole town is talking! I say we cry the banns now. You cannot continue living in the same house with my niece without declaring your intentions. In three more weeks, you may have heard from Cranville and the wedding can be held immediately.” George Upton paced the parlor—the library had been closed and boarded up since the night of the riots.

  Alex leaned against the mantel with a bored air, but his eyes narrowed. “I have already informed Mrs. Wellington of my intention to move out now that I have recovered my health. Unfortunately, there is the small matter of paying my way, since your wife and daughter sailed with my purse. If you could advance me their fares, I’ll remove myself immediately from your niece’s home.”

  “That won’t do! I must think of Evelyn’s welfare. She is headstrong and does not realize the damage she has caused her family by consorting with radicals and garbing herself like a man. Now this! No, it won’t do at all. The two of you were seen last night coming out of that tavern together. The banns must be cried immediately.” Upton stopped his pacing long enough to glare at
Alex.

  Alex lifted his shoulders from the mantel and glared back from his greater height. “In all due respect, I think not, sir. I will be at the King’s Arms; you may send your fare there. Evelyn plans to be involved in auctioning off some unpaid consignments these next weeks. I thought I would lend my hand. You might do the same.”

  Upton looked briefly alarmed, then turned livid and cursed—sure signs of a guilty conscience if he’d ever seen one. Alex stalked past him and out the door.

  If Upton were involved with the smuggling and the warehouse, as he suspected, Alex hoped he’d heard his warning. The unpaid consignments almost all contained contraband. Didn’t the man realize the harm he could do his family by playing in the same dangerous circles as smugglers and thieves?

  Still incensed over a man who would endanger the ones closest to him for the sake of money, Alex progressed toward the King’s Arms where, his newest abode. He wouldn’t return to the inn in sight of Evelyn’s warehouse. He would be at the window every day looking for some sight of her. And then he would be straining his brain to find some way to invite her to his rooms. He knew himself too well, and he was beginning to know Evelyn even better. Her kisses meant one thing and his meant another.

  He didn’t want to hurt her, but the damned woman didn’t even bolt her doors. The thought of that open invitation had driven him to madness last night after he had brought her home. She wouldn’t have stopped him if he had come to her during the night. It was his duty to be the responsible one, particularly since she would think their lovemaking meant marriage, and he had no intention of binding himself to anyone.

  ***

  Evelyn dug her fingers into her hair and stared at a ledger page that could have been hieroglyphics for all she cared. The fight with Alex this morning before she left had unnerved her more than she had thought humanly possible.

  What did she care if he went bankrupt moving into a tavern where he couldn’t pay the fare? Let him starve on pride if he liked. He would hurt her mother’s feelings if he moved out, but her mother would be equally hurt when she discovered the Englishman wouldn’t be her son-in-law. How had she got herself caught in such a coil?

  Her stomach contracted in knots recalling last night. That was the reason Alex was moving out, she knew. It was impossible to live in the same house and remember those kisses and not reach out for more.

  She groaned and covered her eyes with her hand. How had she let him go so far? She could feel the tips of her breasts rubbing against the fabric of her cotton chemise, aching for the brush of his hand. The coil in her stomach burned hotter, spreading its wickedness through her midsection. Alex had known he was doing this to her, the dirty, rotten seducer. She ought to be glad he was gone.

  She slammed the ledger closed and looked for some physical activity that would drive out these demons.

  The soldiers tramping down the street distracted her. The colonial militia had little or no formal training except what they had learned in the war against the French and Indians. They seldom patrolled in anything resembling an orderly manner. This steady rhythm indicated trained troops. She had thought the main body of redcoats were on the island fort with the governor. What occasion had brought them to town?

  Before her thoughts had reached “general warrant” to wonder what poor soul’s house was to be ransacked now, the office door burst open, and she was staring into the cold eyes of a British officer.

  “Miss Evelyn Wellington?” he demanded, already reaching into his pocket for the piece of paper that gave him freedom to search as he willed.

  Evelyn stared in horror as the paper appeared. She had never found any way of disposing of those last two crates of brandy. Surely they would never find it on that high shelf in crates of porcelain. She nodded slowly.

  ***

  At noon, Alex returned to Evelyn’s home to collect his clothing. Amanda Wellington fluttered and protested, but it was as much for her sake as her daughter’s that he had to move out. He liked the woman too well to hurt her by dishonoring her daughter. It had been his idea to carry out this mock betrothal, and even he had to admit that his intentions at the time had not been precisely honorable.

  The betrothal had been an easy solution to her uncle’s protests. He could have let the old carrion try to put him in jail. Instead, he had opted for the pleasure of being thrown in the constant company of the tempting Miss Wellington.

  He had accepted Amanda’s peace offering of tea when Jacob crashed through the front door screaming at the top of his lungs. Alex made no sense of his words. He rose and grabbed Jacob by the collar.

  “Speak slowly and stop screaming, lad. You’re scaring your mother.” To Alex’s surprise, Jacob grabbed his arm.

  “They took Evelyn! The redcoats came, and they tore up the warehouse, and they took Evelyn! You’ve got to get her! Hurry, please, before they take her away. They’ll hang her like they hanged Tommy Jones.” He seized Alex’s hands and pulled with the strength of terror, nearly unbalancing him.

  Amanda rose shakily, bracing her hands against the table. “Quiet down now, Jacob, you’re talking nonsense. Tommy Jones was a dangerous smuggler who outran the law once too many times. Evelyn never smuggled anything.”

  Jacob threw Alex an anguished look. “You know. They found the brandy and all sorts of things. They knew just where to look. There was Madeira and coffee and I don’t know what all hidden in some of those kegs. Evelyn didn’t put them there. I know she didn’t.”

  Alex felt the emptiness return, the blank fury with which he had faced the world for so long. Evelyn might have done it, for all he knew. She might have used him as women so often tried. She could be guilty as hell.

  The bloody truth was that he didn’t care. He wouldn’t let her rot in a common jail cell with criminals while her damned uncle continued to roam the streets—and her damned uncle was behind this, beyond a doubt. The warning Alex had given had led to this. He had only himself to blame.

  Without a word, he walked out of the house. Jacob tore after him, his small legs doing twice the work to match Alex’s long strides.

  At South Church, Alex met Sam Adams hurrying from the State House. Alex blocked his path. “If I don’t rescue Miss Wellington from whatever hellhole they’ve locked her in, you’d better put your damned mob to good use tonight. Protest something practical for a change, like the imprisonment of innocent citizens.”

  Adams dusted his already dirty coat as if Alex had physically assaulted him. Then in cold tones he replied, “That is exactly what we have been protesting, but we do it for the sake of all the people, not just one. We’ll be at Faneuil Hall tonight. If you’re ready to see reason, you’re welcome to join us.”

  Alex wasn’t in any humor to argue the fine points of democracy. Tucking away the name of the meeting place in case of need, he hurried on to the British garrison. He had no high opinion of mankind in general, whether they wore red coats or called themselves Whigs or Tories. He just prayed Evelyn had fallen into the hands of someone who had at least made some pretense of being a gentleman. He didn’t want to think about what could happen to a woman in the hands of a randy brigade of soldiers.

  He told Jacob to wait outside and stand guard.

  Inside, his curt questions and authoritative mien brought him to the office of the battery captain. The man behind the desk ignored him as Alex entered, but he couldn’t ignore the forceful rap of Alex’s gold-tipped cane.

  Garbed in his fashionable London macaroni gear and wearing his most aristocratic hauteur, Alex glared until the officer rose to his feet in a reluctant gesture of respect.

  “Where is Miss Wellington?” Alex had learned the trick of physical intimidation long ago. He swung his walking stick and frowned imperiously. “Don’t just stand there, man. When your superiors find you have taken an innocent female into custody, they will have your commission.”

  “Miss Wellington is under arrest. She cannot be released without the authority of the judge.”

  “She
will be released, and this minute, or you will find yourself before a judge. I came here on behalf of the Earl of Cranville to investigate the reported atrocities of his majesty’s finest against loyal colonists. I did not believe the charges until now. You are holding an innocent woman, Captain. If you don’t release her, I’ll have you charged with complicity and bring the judge down here to order your arrest. I wish to see Miss Wellington immediately.”

  The officer had identified him by now, and his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he glanced to a door leading into the back of the building. “She is being kept comfortably, sir. I have no power to release her. She will come before the judge in the morning to decide whether there is sufficient evidence to warrant a trial. If she is innocent, she will be released then.”

  Alex’s lips tightened. “You misunderstand me, Captain. The lady will be released now or you will come before the judge in the morning. Is my meaning clear now?”

  Confusion warred with fear on the soldier’s face. Alex understood and acted on the man’s uncertainties. Soldiers took orders from superior officers, and an heir to an earldom was more superior than any officer.

  “Perhaps bond can be arranged,” the captain equivocated. “Let me send a messenger to my commanding officer to set an amount. The lady will still have to come before the judge in the morning.”

  Alex’s only wish at the moment was to get Evelyn out of that cell. If anyone hanged her, it would be him. Reaching for the quill and ink on the man’s desk, he gestured impatiently. “Give me some paper, Captain. I’ll give you my note for a thousand pounds. That should be sufficient to cover all charges the lady could possibly be held on.”

  To reject a nobleman’s signature would be an insult requiring satisfaction. The officer hastily provided the paper requested.

  Five minutes later a subdued Evelyn was led into the office. She had worn one of her drab gowns to the warehouse that day, and her hair was simply tied in a loop at her nape. She lacked her usual fire and passion as she stepped into the military office. Even when she saw Alex in all his finery, her eyes remained blank and full of pain.