THE CRY FOR FREEDOM (Winds of Betrayal)

by Jerri Hines

  The Cry For Freedom

  By

  Jerri Hines

  * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY

  Jerri Hines

  The Cry For Freedom

  Book One, Winds of Betrayal Series

  Copyright @ 2013 by Jerri Hines

  Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill

  www.edhgraphics.blogspot.com http://www.romancenovelcenter.com/edameronhill

  Previously published as Patriot Secrets by Wild Child Publishing

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed without permission. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

  This is a historical work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Kindle Edition

  February 2013

  http://jerrihines.org/

  Dedication

  To Bob

  For allowing me to follow my dream.

  Chapter One

  At this moment Hannah Corbett wished nothing more than to be invisible. It wouldn’t happen, of course. Hannah’s nature would never allow such a thing. Despite the allure of the crowded ballroom, the sole of her attention centered on the closed door in front of her, tightly shut from her prying eyes. Oh, the injustice of not being born male!

  Never would she give up the hope that one day her father would take her into his confidence and divulge his innermost reflections of the turmoil that surrounded the colonies. Impossible thoughts. Who was she to think a woman could reason and feel fervently as a male for the cause before them! How dare she feel that she too could be courageous enough to take a stand for what she believed in—to dream that she could revolutionize the world.

  The winds of change brewed over the colonies, none stronger than in Williamsburg. Tension against the crown mounted daily. Spurred by leaders such as Patrick Henry, Virginians prepared to protect their rights. Hannah’s father, John Corbett, whom she deeply loved, stood firmly behind the fervid belief of liberty for all, instilling the passionate emotion in all three of his surviving children. Unfortunately for Hannah, unlike her brothers, she wasn’t allowed access to the endless meetings at Raleigh Tavern, or to retire with the men to the study during a stifling dance.

  Of course, Hannah wouldn’t find the dance stifling if Gabriel was present. Her heart raced with the thought of Gabriel Witherspoon, who’d only just returned from his extended European tour. She’d forgotten for the moment how perturbed she was with him for deserting her so soon after coming back from Europe. The nerve! He had left her to visit his best friend, her own brother, Jonathan, in Philadelphia.

  She sighed heavily. It was going to be a long night. She bit her bottom lip and mulled over her thoughts. She stared at the door completely unaware of all around her, lost deep in one of her imaginings. Startled momentarily by a tap on her shoulder, she turned abruptly. “Oh, it’s you, William.”

  “I thought you might want to dance instead of gazing at a closed door all night.” He smiled wryly. Her eyes softened in his attempt to exercise his brotherly duty toward her. She accepted his hand and let him lead her to the dance floor.

  Not exceedingly tall, he stood only a couple of inches more than Hannah. The eldest of her brothers, he looked like their father and most times shared his serious disposition. Behind him, she glimpsed her sister-in-law, Lydia, watching mindfully. Without question, Lydia had put William to the task of diverting her attention.

  “I’d have thought you’d be within,” Hannah said to her brother. She glanced over his shoulder toward the door. “I would be if given the chance.”

  “It is without a doubt where you would be.” William chuckled. “But to add to your dismay, little sister, I have heard the arguments on a daily basis. I want only to enjoy my wife’s company this night.”

  “And what do you want me to do?” Hannah pouted, following William’s movements when the dance began. “To sit demurely with folded hands, waiting for some gentleman to ask me for a turn around the floor?”

  “You, demure? Never!” he teased. Reacting to the music, his hand directed her waist. “But I wish to make Mother Agnes happy if only for a moment, thinking you’re on your best behavior…”

  Poor Mother Agnes, thought Hannah, for that was what Hannah called her after having married Hannah’s father almost seven years earlier. Her mother’s unfortunate death at Hannah’s birth had left her motherless until Agnes arrived. From Hannah’s perspective, Agnes’s one object in life was to amend Hannah’s sorely neglected upbringing. The problem lay with the differing views Hannah and Mother Agnes had on what each considered proper .

  “Besides,” William added, seizing her attention once more, “since Uncle Richard has descended upon us, Father wants me to keep an eye on you. With Gabriel away, it’s not the pressing problem it would have been, but all the same, keep your distance from our uncle.”

  Hannah rolled her eyes. How many times did she have to assure her father she had absolutely no designs on leaving Williamsburg and going to New York? She didn’t care a whit for what her uncle kept insisting her grandparents could give her. She had all she wanted here.

  “If Father distrusts Uncle Richard so much, why is he here?”

  “He is family, I suppose,” William answered.

  The music came to an end. Thank goodness. Hannah smiled broadly at her brother while he escorted her off the floor. They halted close to Lydia. William had married a local girl, no classic beauty, Hannah supposed. Too tall and lean. Still, she had huge, telling eyes, and more importantly to Hannah, she was like a sister.

  “Lydia,” cried Hannah, feigning offense, “Pray take my brother away. He refuses to stop lecturing me!”

  “That I will do with pleasure,” Lydia said, smiling over at her husband. He quickly returned her smile, and her eyes shone.

  Hannah watched the two disappear onto the dance floor. Left alone, she eased back against the wall. Hopefully, she would garner no more notice than the potted plant she stood beside. The sounds of laughter, polite conversation, and the undertone of music echoed around her. She surveyed the floor and spied the open French doors onto the bricked veranda. Her mood soared with the emergence of a plan within her mind. She had only to slip out the doors undetected. Escape beckoned!

  One step. Then another. She glanced over her shoulder. She moved toward the doors, skirting one dance pair after another. She paused for a moment in front of a group of Mother Agnes’ friends who sat and intently watched all around them. The music had ceased between songs, and Hannah could hear the old biddies whispering, gossiping.

  “Poor Agnes. She’s done all she can for the child—trying to instill in her that she’s a girl, for goodness’ sakes.”

  “Have you ever seen such? She rides like a boy, shoots like a boy.… Why, when she was thirteen she actually beat the Drake’s boy, Virgil, in the turkey shoot,” whispered a scandalized voice. “Her brother, Jonathan, dressed her up in boy’s clothing to compete so he could win a bet!”

  “Oh, but she does look so pretty, all dressed up with her dark hair pulled back so—and those eyes! I remember her dear mother. She looks so like her mother, and Jonathan, also. It’s a shame that she’s too bold by half!” a voice, clearly appalled, uttered.

  “But I’ve heard that the Witherspoon boy has asked for her hand, or is about to. And his mother’s having vapors over the situation! They had such high hopes for the boy…”

  Easing ever so quietly for the doors, she fumed. Why should s
he care a hoot for the biddies’ whispers—but was Gabriel going to ask for her hand? He’d told her he would, but she doubted he’d done so before he left. Maybe he had, but if so, why wouldn’t Father have told me? She frowned. If the old biddies thought Gabriel’s mother had difficulties accepting Hannah, they surely didn’t know what her father thought of Gabriel.

  Slipping out the entranceway, she took one last look to see if anyone was watching her. She smiled. Mother Agnes was deep in conversation; Lydia and William were dancing. Her path was clear!

  To her advantage, only a few people were scattered on the veranda, and none took note of her. She hurried down the steps onto the garden path. She was free!

  Who could quibble if she took a short stroll? And if she strolled under the open study’s window, where the men were talking politics, what fault could be found in her? What was there to interest a mere girl? Turning the corner, her heart sang. Her instincts had been right—men’s voices carried out to the path.

  A rebellion was on the horizon and Hannah had begun to suspect that her father was involved deeper in this than he'd let on, especially when he emphasized that Lord Dunmore had his spies.

  “Watch all that comes out of your mouth, Hannah,” he cautioned. “All will assume your words come from me.”

  “But I have a mind of my own,” she retorted forcibly.

  “Of that I have no doubt,” he answered. “But with all that’s commencing around us, we need not stir up troublous issues.”

  It would have been easier to know what not to say had she known what her father was doing. She stopped still beneath the window. She glanced around. No one was in sight. To her delight, the men were deep in conversation. Their words echoed clearly out the window.

  “Ah, John, you may be right. Peyton has said also, but this I promise you: If it comes, this war with our mother country will hold a price, a steep one which might be too much to bear. I don’t believe you fully understand the consequences of such action.”

  Hannah recognized the distinct voice of Samuel Randolph, long considered one of Williamsburg’s most respected citizens.

  “But if we do not take this stand, the price could even be higher,” Hannah heard her father’s firm and resonant voice and pride blossomed in her chest. “I know your views well, Samuel, but we cannot sit idly by and be treated thus. The news we’re receiving from Boston isn’t good.”

  Silence ensued.

  “They pay us no mind, taxing and taxing us, thinking force will cause us to buckle. You, yourself, are a Virginian, sir. You must admit this is despicable treatment.”

  “I have heard all the rights proclaimed, John—life, liberty and property. I may even understand why you’ve arrived at your views, but I, in good conscience, can’t follow down this road.” All knew that Samuel Randolph stood firmly behind the Crown. But pressures on him were great, for all those close to him were Patriots. “I can’t contemplate a war with our own people. I also believe that all Henry has caused by this speech will stir even greater Patriot fervor.”

  “Give me liberty or give me death!” From the window rang out another voice, one Hannah didn’t recognize.

  Randolph said sadly, “Young man, I can see from your eyes that you have this rebellion in your blood. But take care. I have found it customary of Mr. Henry to speak often with this passion. Yet if his wish for a war comes true, the reality of it may not hold all that he has promised, and I say again, the price for it may be much higher than any of you can imagine.”

  Try as she might, Hannah couldn’t envision who Mr. Randolph was addressing. She glanced around and saw an old elm tree with a V-shaped trunk standing not more than ten yards from the window. If I move ever so carefully, I could ease up high enough into the tree to get a look, to see within. Only for a bit… just a glimpse…a peek.

  She glanced down at the lovely emerald gown in which Mother Agnes had spent so much time and effort. The gown did little to enhance her aspiration, not with the tight elbow length sleeves trimmed with its frilly lace. She hadn't a choice. She hitched up the hem of her gown. Cursing under her breath, she grabbed hold of the lowest branch, ignoring the tugging against her bodice.

  In the tree a moment later, she stretched out her neck. Alas, she couldn’t see over the edge. She needed to go up only a tad more. She reached for a higher branch, but the buckle of her shoe caught on the edge of the bark. Losing her footing, she slipped. She froze. Her foot wedged soundly in the extension of the tree. She couldn’t move. She was stuck. She jerked at it, but her position wouldn’t let her do much more.

  Oh, Mother of All! What was she going to do? She couldn’t get caught this way! Mother Agnes will kill her if she hears about this. Don’t panic. Relax. She strained, tugging hard at her confined foot. Giving no thought to modesty, she pulled her skirt up over her knees and got a better grip on her leg.…

  “Would you like some help?” a masculine voice startled her.

  “No, I’m fine,” she said mockingly. “I often choose to dance in trees.”

  Her mind raced, trying desperately to figure out who the voice could be. It was definitely male, but she wasn’t familiar with it, and, to make matters worse, she couldn’t turn to see because she was stuck in this…this…tree.

  A man laughed softly and walked in front of her. At first she was thankful she’d never seen him before. Powerfully built, he stood more than six feet tall. On second glance, even from her position she had to admit he was undeniably handsome, his hair dark, his chin firm. In the moonlight, amusement shone in his bold, dark eyes.

  “Well, I guess I could leave you in that plight if you wish.” His voice resonated a different accent than was heard in Virginia or the colonies for that matter. He was foreign to these parts and to make matters worse—British?

  She wanted nothing more than to tell the Brit to leave, but then what would she do?

  She sighed. “No, please help me. I need only a slight tug. I don’t know how my foot got stuck…”

  “It is a wonder,” he answered, grinning broadly. “How could one ever expect to find herself in such a fix when she climbs trees in her ball gowns?”

  Not daring to look directly at him, she dropped her hem back over her leg.

  “Oh, no, my lady,” said the man. “To make even a slight tug, I shall need to grab hold of that leg.”

  Despite her position in the tree, Hannah looked into his eyes, which stared at her with the most discomfiting gleam. Heat rushed to her face. “I think it will be better if you go and get my brother.…”

  She heard a shuffling sound, went silent and glanced up, past the strange man’s head. Someone was coming to the window. Without warning, a hand gripped her ankle and, ever so gently and quickly, withdrew her caught foot from its confinement. Surprised by his quick action, she fell forward. Her hands desperately reached around to grasp hold of something, anything to avert landing on the ground beneath the tree. Strong arms encircled her and drew her backward into an embrace.

  She would have cried out had the man’s hand not covered her mouth. He whispered “Ssh!” in her ear and drew her against the wall behind the shrubbery.

  Her heart pounded. Above her she heard her father mutter, “Thought I heard something. Must have been the wind.” The window clicked shut.

  For what seemed an eternity, she remained motionless, surrounded by his arms. She heard nothing, aside from her own heart beating.

  Before she could take another breath, he took her prisoner in his arms. The whole of her body tingled with awareness of his being...his touch. He stared into her eyes. She had only time to gasp in bewilderment as his mouth descended down upon hers. He kissed her. Dazed, his touch paralyzed her. Her heart fluttered madly with the sensation of his lips upon hers.

  To her astonishment, she felt his tongue press upon her lips. Lost in the moment, she responded with the surging fervor erupting within her. She opened her mouth to him, and his tongue surged inside, probing, pushing within her. His arms tightened around her
and brought her body up to his.

  He kissed her again. Harder. More demanding. Within her, a small voice echoed the danger this man presented. She ignored it. Her resistance faded as pleasurable sensations cascaded throughout her body.

  The stranger stopped and broke from her lips. Opening her eyes, reality jolted her out of her trance. Stunned not only by the stranger’s actions, but her own.

  She had been kissed before by Gabriel, but never in this manner! The nerve! How dare he! The scandal that he could cause!

  Her hands braced against him and pushed back. She swung her hand back to slap him. He would have none of that. He grasped her arm, blocking the blow.

  “Oh, no, my lady,” he said softly in a low husky voice. “We can’t have that! I only took a small payment for saving you from a most embarrassing situation.”

  “Let go of me this instant! I’ll tell.…”

  “Tell your brothers, your father? You want one of them to deal with me? I don’t believe that would be a wise move, Hannah Corbett.”

  She recoiled slightly. “How do you know my name?”

  “Pray, let me introduce myself,” he said with a tinge of arrogance and a slight bow. “Marcus Durham. I’m here with your uncle, Richard Wick. Your grandparents have asked me to see what I can do to retrieve you and bring you back to New York with us.”

  Hannah’s pride scorched; her eyes flared. She could feel his gaze, watching, waiting for her reaction. The impudence! She uttered under her breath, “I wish only that I could call you out!”

  He laughed with a playful lightness that only served to irritate her further. He said, “I don’t mean to annoy, you, Miss Corbett. I would have thought you’d be happy not to have been discovered in that tree!”

  “Please let go of me!” she insisted, jerking her hand.