A woman’s screams galvanized the ships into action.
The sloop bumped along the starboard of the Yankee schooner while the navy vessel took to the port side. Now that they were closer to the screams, Alex’s grim look turned to one of triumph.
Unlike everyone else, he recognized those screams. They weren’t ones of pain or fear. They were the screams of a woman hell-bent on ripping a man to shreds. A smile turned up the corners of his lips at the shocking feminine curses echoing over the bridge. The termagant had learned one or two things from him, after all.
***
Evelyn felt the odd jarring motion of the ship, but she concentrated her full attention on the no-longer-obsequious lawyer in the cabin with her. He had ordered her unbound and the gag removed, but whatever his reasons had been, they’d been thwarted by Evelyn’s lack of gratefulness.
“Lay one more hand on me and I’ll rip your eyes out, Henderson! Are you really fool enough to think you’ll get away with this? Alex will hunt you down for the rest of your life.” She wielded a heavy ceramic water pitcher, just waiting for the right moment.
“Don’t be too damn certain of that,” Henderson sneered. “These lofty British peers have strange notions. Spoiled Yankee wives are easily dispensable. By the time we reach Boston you may even be bearing my brat. Do you think your noble husband will want you back then?”
Thomas grabbed for the pitcher, and Evelyn shrieked again, pumping all her fury into her voice in the hopes she might be heard. She didn’t intend to go quietly or politely.
She swung the pitcher with all her might, but days of being bound by ropes had sapped her strength. Thomas easily blocked the blow, and the pitcher bounced off his arm to crash into pieces upon the floor.
He caught her wrist, and she went after him tooth and nail. The wooden pattens she had worn to protect her shoes when she set out for the bakery days ago connected resoundingly with a shin that should already be bruised. Henderson’s wince of pain brought satisfaction and renewed effort. Screeching curses, Evelyn clawed his face with her free hand and battered mercilessly at his legs as he shoved her toward the bunk. Her screams pierced the air, nearly covering the onslaught of booted feet on the deck above.
Shouts of anger and the pounding of feet down the companionway finally distracted them. Thomas cursed and flung open the door. He blanched and instantly dragged Evelyn in front of him. Alex in a black fury loomed in the doorway, pistol in hand.
Evelyn had never loved him more than she did now. She wanted to cry in relief and fling her arms around him, but she recognized the danger. This was stalemate. Henderson’s strong arm crushed her waist as she gazed beyond the barrel of the pistol into the miracle of her husband’s dark face. She didn’t know how Alex could possibly have found her, but she was ecstatic that he had. Now all she had to do was rid herself of the worm holding a knife to her side. She hadn’t known Thomas had a knife.
“I trust you brought the papers, Hampton.” The lawyer said, with his usual air of cool control.
“You’ll get nothing while you have my wife in your hands, Henderson. Let her go.”
Evelyn recognized the barely leashed fury in Alex’s voice, but Thomas seemed impervious to it. He spoke as if he had complete control of the situation. “Just keep out of my way, Hampton, and you can have her back. She’s a shrew of the worst sort, always has been. You deserve her. All I ask is a fair exchange, my freedom for your wife.”
“You don’t honestly believe I’ll let you get away with this?” Alex growled, his gaze shifting from the position of the knife at Evelyn’s belly to Henderson.
Rory came to stand beside Alex, rapidly assessing the situation. “Stand back, Alex, and let the man pass,” he said gruffly.
To Evelyn’s surprise, Alex did as told. Henderson glanced suspiciously past Alex, blanching at the number of hostile faces beyond.
“I think not, Hampton,” the lawyer said, pricking Evelyn with the knife. “Clear your cronies out of here. Bring me the papers and a pardon for any additional charges. I’ll keep your wife until I have the documents in my hand and the ship is granted free passage from these waters. Then you can have her back.”
Evelyn impatiently gave Henderson a scathing glare. “That is ridiculous. You’d do better to face the charges of smuggling than kidnapping. The evidence isn’t all that damning or I would never have agreed to see you in the first place. You’d quite likely get off free. Now, put that knife down and let me go. You’re hurting my arm.”
Several of the onlookers chuckled at her sharp tones. No one backed away.
“Talk to your husband, not to me,” Henderson sneered. “I’m perfectly willing to release you. But I have no desire to have my head blown off in the course of things. Tell them to go away, and you’ll be fine.”
Alex peremptorily gestured for the others to leave. Rory hesitated.
Alex glared. “We have Yankee smugglers mingling with Navy officers and British noblemen up there. Someone had better keep an eye on them.”
“And a Scot to rule them all,” Rory scoffed. With a last backward wink at Evelyn, he departed.
“Give me my wife, Henderson,” Alex thundered. “You can rot in hell for all I care. You can steal the whole damn country blind. I don’t care what you do. But I’m not taking my eyes off of you until you release Evelyn.”
Evelyn squirmed, looking for some leverage, but the knife was too close to the precious child within. She could only listen helplessly to the casting of dice.
Henderson desperately made one last offer. “Go in front of me and I’ll follow. When we reach the deck, clear your men off the ship, bring me the packet and a pardon, and I’ll release her. We’ll all be in plain view. No one will come to any harm.”
“Put that knife away and I’ll agree.” Alex clamped his teeth and clenched his fists.
Evelyn held her breath, praying the lawyer would agree.
“Get over on that side where you can lead the way, and I’ll do it,” he finally decided.
Alex nodded, stepped toward the companionway, and turned to make certain Henderson kept his word. The lawyer returned the knife to its sheath, and holding Evelyn’s arm behind her back, pushed her along in front of him as a shield.
The corridor was too narrow for her to fight, and the stairs too dangerous. She stalked upward in a fury, into the bright light of day. She shut her eyes briefly to steady herself against the glare and wished for the cloak. The wind blowing off the water cut through layers of velvet and petticoats.
When she opened her eyes again, she stared awestruck at the flotilla of ships and boats Alex had commanded. For the first time in days, a smile replaced her fear. Alex had finally earned and commanded the respect he so deserved.
“Welcome, gentlemen,” she said impishly to the motley array of men on deck. She distanced herself as much as possible from Henderson now that no knife held her back. “I wish Alex and I could entertain you more nobly, but you have caught us unprepared. Perhaps if you’ll stop by Cranville House in a few days, we’ll better entertain you, but I do thank you for coming.”
A few solemn faces broke into grins. These men might be afraid, but she wasn’t. Not any longer. Alex was here. Evelyn turned her expectant gaze up to her husband.
She could see his shock at her trust. As he recognized the freedom she gave him to act in his own way, the love and pride in his eyes blazed boldly.
“Rory, take the men back to the ships,” he ordered. “Write out the pardon he requests, have the captain witness it. Summerville and I will sign it.” Alex kept his gaze focused on his foe. “I’ll not leave until Evelyn is released, so you’ll need bring the paper here for me to sign.”
Reluctantly, Rory led their army to the rails and the waiting armada.
“Tell them to take your weapons, Hampton,” Henderson suggested, “and I’ll be a good deal more comfortable. Your wife might appreciate the benefit of that.”
In his nervousness, he twisted Evelyn’s arm so tightly that
she paled with pain. Alex signaled for the Marquess of Summerville to take his weapons, then held out his hand to Henderson. “To be fair about this, your knife too.”
Henderson surrendered it reluctantly. The marquess glanced at Alex, but at Alex’s nod, he too departed. Evelyn knew they had worked together in the Lords and trusted each other’s judgment. Alex was unaccustomed to giving his friendship easily, but she could tell from her husband’s look of relief that the marquess had an ally for life, should they survive this disaster.
Henderson’s hold on Evelyn relaxed, but she still provided a shield from Alex’s fury. He refused to release her completely.
She had the urge to yank her arm away and kick her captor again, but she read the warning in Alex’s eyes. He planned something. She would wait. It was much better working with him than against him—or on her own.
Perhaps her husband’s interests would keep him occupied for most of their days, but she knew now she could always count on him when she needed him—and she could rely on him not to interfere when she did not. Evelyn thrilled with the freedom of this thought and met his gaze with elation.
Alex held out his hand, his gaze not veering from hers. “Now, Evelyn.”
At his word, she fell forward, catching Henderson by surprise. His balance upset, he loosened his grip to right himself.
Evelyn yanked free and immediately grabbed Alex’s hand. He pulled her behind him. In the same motion, Alex swung his fist. At hearing a satisfactory crunch against the lawyer’s jaw, Evelyn fled to the safety of the railing. Rory instantly clambered up the ropes, sword in hand to protect her from Henderson’s crew.
Evelyn’s fear wasn’t for herself but for Alex. His blows were cold and calculated, driving Henderson backward. The lawyer narrowly missed stumbling down the companionway. He caught himself against the bulwark and slid to the side before regaining his feet. Alex was upon him in an instant, his fist slamming into Henderson’s abdomen with a force sufficient to send his opponent rolling toward the railing.
More men scrambled back to the deck, Navy officers beside smugglers, forming a protective wall around this private battle.
Evelyn clung to Rory’s arm as Henderson grasped a barrel and heaved it at Alex, then grabbed for an ax hanging on the bulwark. Alex stopped the barrel with his foot and rolled it back at his opponent. The solid oak caught the lawyer, tumbling him backward before he could fully grasp the weapon.
Henderson was the smaller man and no match for Alex’s rage. Evelyn wanted to hide her eyes as Alex bore down on his victim with relentless blows. Flinging up his arms to protect his face, Thomas slid closer to the railing. Evelyn shouted a warning as he rolled with a punch and grabbed a length of rope, pulling it taut across Alex’s path.
Alex tripped but with the grace of a born sailor, landed on his hands. In one swift motion, he grabbed Henderson’s foot and they both slid across the deck.
Henderson kicked and gained his feet. Before Alex could roll away, Thomas swung a barrel lid at his head. Alex dodged, and the force of Henderson’s swing sent him stumbling backward into the railing.
The rotten railing of the neglected smuggling sloop cracked with a snap. Evelyn covered her gasp with both hands as Thomas tried to fling himself away from the rail. But the ship lurched, and the weathered wood split beneath his weight. With a cry, he sprawled backward into the depths of the water below.
Alex wasn’t among those who rushed to the railing to throw out ropes and lower dinghies to rescue the man overboard. With a look of purpose, he stalked toward her.
Evelyn released Rory’s arm and waited, her heart in her throat. He had told her not to see Henderson again. He had shown her the reason why. And still she had defied him. Whatever punishment he meted out, she deserved, but more than anything, she wanted to be in his arms again.
She held herself straight and proudly as he came to her, but Alex ignored her haughty stance. With a groan he caught her up in his embrace and buried his face in her hair and held her tight against him.
“Damned Yankee rebel, I’ll have you clamped in chains for this,” he growled against her hair as she locked her hands behind his neck.
Evelyn turned her face up to his and kissed him with fierceness. With wonder, she felt the hot moisture of his tears blend with hers, and she clung to him as if she were drowning.
Rory’s cough intruded upon their reunion. Reluctantly Alex settled his wife on her feet again, while keeping her close against his side. He might never let her out of his sight again.
“They’ve hauled Henderson out and the navy has him in custody. I don’t think he’ll be causing any more problems in the immediate future. Do you wish to go ashore by way of the navy or my friends down there?” Rory nodded in the direction of the small vessel preparing to disembark.
Alex raised a languid eyebrow. “I’ll refrain from telling Alyson of your questionable choice in friends if you’ll find me the first ship bound for Boston. The Yankee and I are taking a little voyage—sans family. Deal?”
Rory began to grin. “Deal. I know just the ship. Would you be visiting the West Indies while you’re there?”
“Wait a minute!” Wide-eyed, Evelyn glared at them. “Why Boston? Are you trying to be rid of me, Alexander Hampton? Because it won’t work, you know.”
Alex beamed at her lovely but irate countenance. “I thought you would wish to be the first to give your rebel friends the news. They won. The tax is dead. There will be months of circumlocutions yet, but for all intents and purposes, your colonial hotheads won the war without a battle.”
Joy spread across her face. “You did it! You really did it! Oh, Alex, I love you!” She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. Before Rory could be embarrassed again, she promptly released Alex and, hands on hips, announced, “We had better leave immediately before I am too large to travel.”
Rory’s whoop of laughter drew the attention of all around them. When the earl swung his Yankee countess into his arms and marched her toward the waiting ship, a roar of approval rocked the motley flotilla occupying Plymouth harbor.
Epilogue
April 1766
The round of cannon shot echoed through the spring evening air, followed by a tumult of screams, shouts, ringing bells, and shotgun fire. The crowd beneath the Liberty Tree surged forward in a wave of motion that flooded the street.
Alex drew Evelyn into the safety of a nearby doorway, clamping his arm beneath her breasts. He rested his other hand protectively over the slight rounding of her abdomen. Evelyn had abandoned stays, panniers, heavy petticoats, and silks in favor of simple cotton and chemise this night, and he could feel every curve of her lithe figure.
“I suppose you wish to follow them too,” he murmured against her ear as the crowd streamed toward the State House.
“They say they’ve built a huge pyramid covered with all kinds of figures, even the king and queen, although I hear Sam Adams ranks higher. And there are hundreds of lamps all over it, and fireworks up on top. You’ll never see anything like it in London.”
“There are many things I’ve never seen in London, but I’m not disposed to battle mobs to find them. Those are guns they are firing out there. And do you have any idea what happens to fireworks when they come in contact with hundreds of lamps? Do all Yankees like to celebrate dangerously?”
Evelyn laughed and rubbed suggestively against him. “We do everything dangerously. That’s the kind of world we live in.”
“I shall remember that.” Alex turned her around and wrapped his hand in the thick wave of hair pouring over her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled with delight, and the flags, people, and illuminations behind her provided an ideal setting. She belonged here in this simple and half-savage world. Silks and lace and powdered hair had no place in this country. Wistfully he wrapped his hand in her loosely bound hair. “You are happy now?”
His question had naught to do with the joyous riot that had erupted at word of the Stamp Act’s repeal. Nor did it have anyth
ing to do with the fact that with the help of the marquess, the navy, and Henderson’s arrest, he had been able to bring Evelyn’s case to appeal so she might return to her home. It was another kind of happiness he questioned.
She answered without hesitation by pressing her hands against his chest and kissing his bristly jaw. “Happier than I have ever been in my whole life. And you?”
“I don’t think you need to ask that.” Alex lifted her until their lips met and the electricity flowed between them, and only the jeering encouragement of passersby reminded them they were not in a private place. Reluctantly he set her down. “Would you be happiest if we stayed here? This is your home. I never meant to rob you of it.”
Evelyn linked her arm through his and pulled him toward the velvet darkness of the narrow alley. The clamor of the mob was moving toward the center of town. In relief, he realized she turned in the direction of the Common and her home. Every house had candles in the windows to celebrate their joy at the news. It was almost like Christmas, but in spring. Alex took a deep breath of the crisp night air.
“You are my home,” she informed him. “Wherever you are, I am happy. I never imagined it could be this way.”
Somewhere in the distance premature fireworks went off, and screams of delighted laughter permeated the night. Alex didn’t need to see the display of colored light. He felt it going off inside of him as he lifted Evelyn into his arms and hugged her close, burying his face against her silken hair.
“I never imagined it either, tyrant. But then, I never imagined being led around by a pint-sized termagant with a knife for a tongue either.” Before she could pull his hair out by the handful, Alex added, “Nor did I imagine I would be so lucky as to fall in love with a beautiful woman stubborn enough to endure my multitudinous faults. Can we go home now? I can think of better ways of celebrating than with shotguns and flags.”
Evelyn dug her fingers deeper into his hair and pulled his head down to meet her kiss once more. She needed no words for her reply; her tongue said it all as it slipped between his lips.
Rebel Dreams Page 36