by Lora Thomas
“His shaft is bigger than what ah was expecting.”
“How many have you seen?”
“Och come, Mistress. I’m far from innocent.”
“Sarah!” Anna protested.
“Whit?” Sarah questioned with a pretense of naiveté and an impish smile. “Och come now. Whit dae ye think I was doing all those times when ye caught me up sae early in the morning?”
“I’ll leave it to my imagination.”
Sarah giggled. She then poured a small amount of the warm blood into her hand and a revolted look crossed her face as she rubbed the major’s manhood with the red sticky substance. She then poured a small amount onto the bed. She motioned for Anna.
“Hold yer hands owt.”
Anna did as instructed. Sarah poured some of the blood into her friend’s hand. “Rub that on yer private areas. Be sure tae place a small amount ona yer inner thighs.”
“Are you sure this will work?”
“It did for mah mother.”
“What?”
“She was force tae marry another man. She was pregnant wit me at the time. The man did nae ken this ‘n if he did he would hae tossed her oot on the street.”
“I think I should have conducted a better interview with you before I hired you to be my lady’s maid,” Anna said as a shocked look crossed her face.
“And if ye had, Mistress, someone else wid be ‘ere now ‘n this wid nae be happening.”
“You’re right. And please call me Anna. We have known each other for several years now, and after this situation, I feel that Mistress is too formal.”
“All right, Anna. But I will only call ye that in private. If the major heard me address ye in such a manner, he would dismiss me.”
“Very well.”
Sarah looked to Anna. “Wash the blood from yer hands. Then remove yer gown ‘n climb intae bed.”
“Naked!”
“Yes, ye ninny. Ye cannae make love tae yer husband clothed.” The look Anna gave Sarah broke the maid’s heart. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little fearful at the moment. Come visit me tomorrow ‘n I will tell ye what tae expect between a man ’n woman.”
Anna nodded.
“Thank you, Sarah. I appreciate your assistance and discretion on this issue. Now I will offer you a bit of advice. Your accent is difficult to understand. I have become accustomed to it. However, I have heard Albert complain about it and how you are a ‘bloody Scot’. I ask that you try to hold off on your dialect as much as possible or you may find yourself on the receiving end of his wrath.”
Sarah nodded. “Vera well. Now, I will leave ye tae finish.” Sarah tossed the bloody water out the window along with the leather pouch. She placed her hand on Anna’s arm in a reassuring manner and slipped out of the room.
Anna took her nightgown off and tossed it on the floor beside the bed. As she climbed into bed with her husband, a chill ran down her body from the feel of the blood on the sheet as it touched her hip. She readjusted her body to where she was partially on the stain and pulled the quilt over her body. She drifted off to sleep, hoping that Sarah’s plan would work.
Chapter Three
Cameron Morgan gave a lazy stretch as he awoke. His stomach growled as the smell of bacon and tea drifted to him. A woman in the other room could be heard humming a lively tune. As he pushed to a sitting position, a grimace crossed his face from the soreness of his muscles.
Cameron had a specific duty—a secret duty—that he performed weekly and more if needed. He was a messenger for the colonial army. His father, Harrison, was an acquaintance of a man named Benjamin Tallmadge. Tallmadge was a cavalry officer in the Continental Army’s Secret Service who began operating a spy ring. Tallmadge only recruited individuals that he trusted to work for him. Harrison had been childhood friends with Benjamin’s father. Both Tallmadges knew of Harrison’s hatred for the British, so the younger Tallmadge recruited Cameron’s father to assist with his spy ring, known as the Culper Spy Ring.
Harrison was excellent at what he did. He always got the encrypted messages delivered to the couriers who arranged to have them delivered to General Washington. However, Harrison was older and not in the best health. He developed pneumonia after his last mission on a cold, rainy March day and was unable to continue. He summoned his identical twin boys, Cameron and Christopher. Cameron readily agreed for he was an adventure seeker and a rebel at heart. There was not a challenge he would back down from or a feat he would not try. At first Christopher refused, stating the mission was too dangerous, but Cameron coaxed Christopher into going with him.
It was a good thing he had. The location to which they were to deliver the message was crawling with Redcoats. Cameron persuaded Christopher into distracting the sentries while he smuggled the message to the location at a local tavern. Cameron gave his message to a man named Townsend. As he was leaving, several Redcoats along with their commanding officer decided to make the patrons of the bar pay their “taxes.” Cameron knew that if the British discovered the message it would be a major downfall for the Continental army. So being the rebel and troublemaker he was, he hit the commanding officer. After that first punch, all hell broke loose in the bar. Several of the locals were arrested, along with Cameron but this allowed Townsend to slip away undetected.
Cameron escaped his captors, but they gave chase. He darted behind a building where his brother was talking to the other sentries. When the men approached, they wanted to arrest Christopher for causing the fight. When they were informed that Christopher had been talking with their comrades during the incident, they turned and took their search elsewhere.
As the brothers left the city, an idea sprang into Cameron’s mind. He could help the cause by smuggling messages along with smuggling merchandise. And having an identical twin, he could be in two places at once, which would cause the authorities doubt about who was actually a spy.
When the twins arrived back to their father, Tallmadge was with him. The ringleader was told of the success of the mission. Because of their loyalty and their success, Tallmadge agreed to allow Cameron and Christopher into his spy ring. They were assigned to relocate to the outskirts of New York to help with operations there.
Cameron had a better idea. Since the war was being waged up and down the coastline, he would assist in gathering intelligence for the colonial armies in North Carolina and Virginia. Tallmadge had an ally in the Carolinas to whom they could report for assignments. The celebration was short-lived, for Harrison died three days later, succumbing to his illness. After Harrison was buried, the twins left Setauket and relocated to Williamsburg, Virginia. However, there was an incident involving a murder of a British officer and a woman. A housekeeper described the perpetrator as Cameron. In order to keep their disguises in place, the twins changed their covers and relocated to Wilmington, North Carolina and began their operations there.
Being a spy was definitely exciting. It was a lifestyle that Cameron loved. The excitement he craved, he found daily. Which was how he had ended up in the bed of the lovely Widow Jones. He was being chased by loyalists to the Crown after delivering his last message to General Washington’s agent. The soldiers shot at him but hit his horse, sending Cameron tumbling down a ravine. He had injured his shoulder during the fall but managed to get away. He made his way to a safe house, which just happened to have a very accommodating widow.
Lydia Jones definitely did not look like a widow. She had overly large breasts and a narrow waist. Her bright red hair only accentuated her blue eyes. And there was always a welcoming, wanton smile to her plump, red lips. She was young. If Cameron had to guess he would say she was no older than twenty. Her husband had been older and died shortly after they married. But from what Cameron could gather, Lydia was not overly upset. She gladly accepted her newfound freedom and took lovers…many lovers. She loved men. All men. Old, young, short, tall. And her love of men, as well as her country, was why she was recruited to help the cause. For sexual prowess was a wonderful way to gather int
elligence from the British soldiers who stopped by for some of her “hospitality.”
Cameron tossed his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his black breeches lying in the chair beside him. He pulled them over his muscular thighs and then donned his white tunic, leaving the laces undone. He walked barefoot out of the room into the kitchen. A sensual smile came to his lips as he watched the promiscuous widow sway her hips back-and-forth as she sang a rather risqué song.
“Is that an invitation?” Cameron asked, leaning his forearm on the doorframe.
She looked over her shoulder at him with come-and-get-me eyes. “Only if you can pleasure me the same as you did last night.”
“That can be arranged.”
She tossed her head coyly and looked out the window. Her relaxed stance changed to one of alarm. “We will have to postpone our rendezvous. We have company.”
Cameron lowered his arm and winced. Crossing the room, he looked out the window. A curse escaped his mouth as he saw the bright red coloring of the British coats heading the direction of the home.
“Keep them distracted and I’ll slip out the back.”
“You are that confident that I can distract four men?” she asked with a wanton smile.
“I have no doubt.” He swatted the widow’s backside. She pulled him to her and kissed him.
Cameron pulled away from the widow and quickly went back into the bedroom, gathering the rest of his clothing. He waited for the knock at the door before he exited through the back. As he closed the door, he could hear the ginger-haired widow begin her seduction of the soldiers. Cameron pressed his back against the house as he pulled on his boots. He donned his dark wool coat and eased along the wall.
He needed a horse. Widow Jones did have one, but he could not take a poor, defenseless widow’s steed, so he opted to steal the one belonging to the captain who had just arrived. He peered around the corner of the home. The captain had tied his horse to the front porch pillar. Dropping to his knees, Cameron crawled to the horse and eased his hand up, untying the chestnut-colored animal. The horse gave a faint nicker at being untethered. Cameron rubbed the horse’s muzzle and led the animal away from the front of the house. Once behind the home, Cameron mounted the steed and gently nudged the gelding’s flanks. The horse silently trotted away from the home. When horse and rider were at the edge of the wooded area, Cameron kicked the horse into a run. Christopher would be wondering where he was. It would take the rest of the day to reach Wilmington from his current location.
Cameron reached his destination as the sun was making its nightly descent. The fireflies were twinkling like stars in the dusk sky, looking for prospective mates. An owl screeched in the distance and was met by a howl of a stray dog. The trees seem to come to life as birds made their way to roost for the night. The tranquility of the landscape surrounding him caused Cameron to momentarily forget the destructions of war until he rounded the bend and noticed the shadowy outline of the men o’ war sitting in the bay.
He dismounted the horse and opened the saddlebags. Taking the captain’s extra pistols out, he placed them in the waistband of his breeches and gave the horse a hard smack, releasing the animal. The last thing he needed to do was draw attention to himself by riding a Redcoat’s horse. Common men returning to the city on horseback drew suspicion. However, a man on foot carrying firewood was ignored for the most part. Walking past a tree stump, Cameron slid the brush back from the rotting log and pulled out a tall basket. Taking the weapons from his waistband, he placed them in the bottom of the basket and then covered them with a false wicker bottom. He then filled the basket with several twigs and sticks of varying sizes. Because they were at war, non-military personal were not allowed to have firearms, so he worked for several minutes to disguise his smuggled goods.
Once satisfied the weapons would not be noticed, Cameron placed the strap of the basket over his shoulder and adjusted it across his chest. Approaching the city, he readjusted his cargo, lowered his head and walked alongside a building. The smug satisfaction of making it into the city faded as he heard someone approach him from behind.
“Halt. State your business,” the rail-thin sentry ordered.
Taking a deep breath, Cameron kept his calm and turned to face the soldier. Altering his accent to British, he answered, “I’ve just been out collecting kindling for my fire.”
The guard’s companion pulled the basket from Cameron and expected the contents. He pulled several of the sticks out and tossed them on the ground. The pudgy man then prodded inside the basket with his sword. Turning to his comrade he nodded his head that all was in order.
“Carry on,” the skinny guard ordered as he turned and left.
“Arse,” Cameron mumbled to himself as he gathered the discarded covering. He haphazardly placed the dry twigs back in the basket. Tossing the basket over his shoulder, he proceeded to his destination—The Dragon’s Lair.
In its heyday, The Dragon’s Lair was originally a waterfront mercantile called Sampson’s. The massive two-story structure had a basement that rested under the docks. It held every type of merchandise that anyone could desire. The first floor was where the respectable people of the city procured their merchandise. The second floor contained rooms for weary travelers. But the lower level, the level under the dry dock, was where the roughnecks and rebels came to carouse and to purchase or sell their ill-gotten goods. However, with the corruption of the British rule in the colonies, the business struggled to stay afloat. What little profit the owners made was taken from them due to taxes. It seemed that everything was taxed—even the air they breathed.
Sampson’s closed and was purchased by a man named Duke. He changed its name to The Dragon’s Lair and “closed” the store. The lower levels were closed off and used for storage and the upper levels were turned into a tavern. The second story was kept the same but was now used as bedrooms for the doxies. However, not all of the rooms upstairs were used for entertainment purposes. One room, located in the back, facing the river, was designated as a “meeting room”. And the lower level was not entirely closed off. The main door was boarded up but a hidden door remained open, allowing men in dinghies to smuggle in wine and ale to the patrons.
As Cameron entered the tavern, the man behind the bar, Duke, nodded his head.
“He’s in the back,” Duke said as he motioned his head to the room in question.
Cameron acknowledged the bartender’s comment with a nod of his head and walked to the room mentioned. He pulled back the curtain and walked towards the table by the fireplace. Grabbing a pint out of a passing tavern wench’s hand, he made his way to the bench at the table and sat down.
“Were you successful?” Christopher asked.
Cameron took a drink of his beverage. A twinkle came to his green eyes as he watched his twin. From a distance, no one could tell the difference between the two. Both had black hair, green eyes, and their father’s height. Both had the same strong build with a narrow waist. However, Cameron was slightly broader than his brother. Christopher turned his head and shadows danced across his clean-shaven chiseled jawline.
Christopher turned his green eyes back to Cameron. “Are you going to answer me or just sit there smiling like an idiot?”
“You have to question if I was successful?”
“Shut up,” the older of the twins said as the corner of his mouth came up in a crooked smile. “Then what took you so long?”
“Widow Jones was lonely,” Cameron replied as he took another drink of his beverage.
“I’m sure she was,” Christopher replied with sarcasm.
“What’s troubling you, Brother?” Cameron could always tell when something was vexing his brother, even when others could not. It was the way he moved. Christopher normally had a calm, reserved nature to him, except when he was troubled. When something was concerning him, Chris became stiff. His movements were not graceful but a forced event.
“I just got word that more troops are coming into port.�
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Cameron leaned over and propped his forearms on the table. “When?”
“They are docked offshore now, waiting for the tide to bring the ship into berth.”
Cameron shrugged his broad shoulders. “Let them come. We will defeat those, too.”
Christopher leaned over to his brother. “It’s not that simple. Stevenson is on that ship.”
Cameron drew his brows together as he rubbed his jaw. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. A few of his men rowed ashore just before you arrived to make arrangements for the major and his new bride.”
Cameron nearly choked on his beverage when he heard that The Enforcer had taken a wife. Stevenson was a cruel, mean bastard. Why would anyone pair their daughter with that man? For she would surely die if she so much as looked cross at the man.
As Cameron’s coughing subsided, a sly smile crossed his face causing the dimple in his left cheek to appear—the only difference between the twins. “Does this mean that he will be attending the governor’s soiree tomorrow night?”
Christopher’s mouth opened slightly as his eyes grew wide. He pointed his finger at his brother. “I will not go to that party.”
“But, Brother, you are a rich, loyal British citizen, are you not?”
“Only in eyes of the Crown. I will not attend a party full of British officers. It’s suicide!”
“No, it’s madness. But brilliant madness.”
“Then you go.”
Cameron gave his brother a cocky look.
“I know. I know. You would kill them all.”
“You are more level headed than I and such a good diplomat as well.”
Christopher looked at his beverage and swirled the tawny liquid around. He let out a frustrated sigh and looked up. “Fine. I will go to this blasted party and see what I can find out.”
A feigned look of surprise crossed Cameron’s face. “Why I would have never thought of that idea, Brother.”