Rebel

by Heather Graham

  She worked industriously at the fabric, trying with all her strength to rip free.

  Then she screamed, nearly inhaled, nearly died, as she felt another set of arms coming around her. A moment’s panic seized her.

  There was a hand before her.

  Wielding a knife.

  The knife caught the brilliant light of the sun, even through the water, and flashed silver.

  Dear God, they were going to kill her, slash her, slit her throat.

  No.

  The knife flashed once, then again and again.

  Cutting fabric. Freeing her from the drowning bulk of it. She kicked hard, surfacing. She inhaled deeply, treading water. Five feet separated her now from the two bodies that were thrashing in the water. She swam hard, backing away, watching the churning water all the while.

  Then a head broke the surface, and she thought that she was dying after all, and hallucinating in the process.

  It was Ian.

  “My God!” she breathed.

  “You’re all right?” he demanded, eyes hard on her, as cobalt as the water. Hair pitch black and water-slicked. Bronze shoulders naked.

  “I’m fine. My father—”

  “You’re not hurt?”

  “No, but my father—”

  “Let’s get back,” he said, cutting her off huskily. There was something strange about his face, his eyes. Or was there? She hadn’t seen him in so long. Naturally, he would appear strange. Months had passed. He had more or less deserted her on this islet to pursue his own life.

  She had wanted to be here, she reminded herself. She had been willing to bargain and barter to stay with her father.

  She simply hadn’t thought about how hard the separation would be.

  “I can swim!” she protested quickly as a few strokes brought him to her side. Warmth seemed to come along with him. Strength, which she seemed sadly lacking at that moment. He was very close, very solid, bronze muscles glistening in sun and water.

  Alaina realized then that she was deliriously happy to be alive, but so shaken to see him. She wasn’t ready, wasn’t prepared. And now he would think this too dangerous a place to leave her. He would want her to come away. Not with him. He would want her back at Cimarron, so far away from Teddy.

  Dear God! What foolish things to be thinking about when the isle was still all but crowded with military men, and a man intent upon her murder still lurked in the water not at all far away.

  “Ian, that man is desperate. He’ll come after us again. He’ll—”

  “He’ll not.”

  “But he—”

  “He is dead,” Ian said flatly. “Come on.”

  Dead.

  Her eyes riveted to a spot ten feet beyond Ian.

  There, the attacker drifted. Body submerged, just the tip of his head floating above the water. Indeed, he was dead. Life and death, both so fleeting.

  She was relieved; she was chilled. Death was terrifying, especially as she had just escaped from its clammy grasp.

  “Alaina, let’s get to shore,” Ian insisted firmly.

  “I’m all right, I can move on my own.”

  Despite her protest, he was by her side. He slipped an arm beneath her breasts, towing her along with his powerful strokes, as it didn’t seem that she moved quickly enough for him.

  When they reached the shallows, he drew her up against him. They stumbled together through the water and sand. She was glad. Even the shredded and tattered remains of her soaked petticoats and skirts were incredibly heavy. Her knees wobbled.

  His arms around her were supportive, reminding her again how she had missed him. She stood within his embrace, shivering despite the heat.

  He was a stranger after all this time, but she was glad to see him. Warmed by his very presence. Yet she felt that she had to explain, though nothing that had happened was her fault. “I was almost free, you know, Ian. I’m grateful, of course, that you came in so timely a manner. Naturally, I am quite glad of the assistance. But we’re not careless, Ian. This was just so sudden.”

  She was shivering violently. She had to stop. She had to get herself under control. She was safe; they were all safe. He had come.

  She gazed at him, her eyes widening then with amazement that he could really be there, but still disturbed by the look in his eyes. She had been chattering, talking just to talk. “How can you be here?” she demanded now. “How can you have been gone so long, and then be here… in the water?”

  “I came by way of a navy packet that left my brother and me at my uncle’s house last night. We were on our way here with Jerome when we saw the other boat beaching,” he told her. “I thank God I was here,” he added softly.

  “Who—who—where did those men come from?” she asked.

  “They were convicts who had taken refuge in the deserted fort,” he said.

  “And the army—”

  “The army came after them.”

  They had reached dry land. Alaina stumbled; he held her up. She smiled ruefully, clinging to his arm as they walked over sand and spurs toward the lawn. “My father will be so glad to see you! You certainly do have good timing. I’m still not at all sure I understand what was happening, though. I swear to you, I don’t know what is going on elsewhere, but we haven’t had the least speck of trouble anywhere near here since… since the last Seminole uprising, which, of course, didn’t affect Teddy and me. You must believe me. The islet is really quite safe….”

  Alaina broke off. He wasn’t angry.

  She had expected a lecture, at the very least. She was too sure of herself, she never realized the danger she could be in, she was far too reckless.

  She’d once made the mistake of trying to convince him that she was quite capable of taking care of herself. And once, of course, she had been confident that she would be all right in any circumstance.

  But Ian taught well, and she learned quickly.

  And she would never forget the night by the pool when he had determined to teach her the lesson that she wasn’t invincible.

  But he wasn’t lecturing.

  He was uncannily quiet.

  He didn’t seem impatient at all with her insistence that the islet was safe. He looked pained; his strong, dark countenance far more sorrowful than irate.

  “Ian?” she murmured worriedly.

  He was gazing past her, and she realized why. Ahead, in the grove, a group had formed in a circle.

  The younger convict lay facedown next to one of Teddy’s fine lime trees.

  Flies already buzzed above his body. He was dead, and Alaina did not need to be told that it was so. And under different circumstances, she might have cared.

  And she might have cared more deeply that the older man floated dead somewhere in the sea. She might have cared, simply because she had been taught that all life was precious.

  But no life was more precious than that of her father. And Teddy was down on the ground as well. Soldiers stood awkwardly nearby.

  Jerome and Jennifer knelt at Teddy’s left side. Jennifer was industriously ripping the hem of her skirt and petticoats into bandages. Julian, with his medical bag opened at his side, was working over Teddy as well, trying to stanch the flow of red that seeped into his shirt and spilled into a puddle atop his chest.

  Julian ripped open Teddy’s shirt to better put pressure against the wound.

  “Papa!” Alaina screamed. “Papa!”

  She broke free from Ian and tore toward her father, her heart in her throat, choking her. She fell to her knees at his side.

  His eyes opened. Soft, beautiful, kindly, gentle blue. They focused upon her. He smiled. She grasped his hand. Drew his knuckles to her cheek She felt the slightest movement in his fingers. “Papa, it’s going to be fine. We’re going to get you inside, we’re—”

  “Alaina. You’re safe,” Teddy mouthed.

  “I’m fine, Papa. And you’ll be fine, too. Julian is here, and Ian. Jennifer, Jerome. You know how very good Julian is, Papa, how he always wante
d to be a doctor. Julian can keep you alive, Papa. He’ll make you well, just listen to him, save your strength, do as he says.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. His eyes seemed to be clouding over. “Alaina. Thank God, thank God.”

  “You have to hush, Papa, save your strength.”

  She looked anxiously at Julian, but he was looking at his brother. She realized that Ian had asked Julian a silent question.

  And Julian was shaking his head.

  “No!” Alaina gasped, staring from Ian to Julian. “No, Julian, you must—”

  “Alaina,” Teddy breathed. For a moment his fingers squeezed tightly around hers. “Thank God. Love you, daughter. Love you.”

  “Papa, hush, please, you have to save your strength!” Alaina said, smoothing back his white hair. “Papa, I have to tell you—”

  “Ian?” Teddy cried suddenly, his gaze shifting wildly about until he focused upon Ian. “Sir, I’m here.”

  “Keep her safe,” Teddy whispered. “Keep her safe.”

  “Papa—”

  Once again, his fingers curled around hers. Tightly. Then his grip eased. He closed his eyes. And died.

  Chapter 13

  Alaina was inconsolable.

  In all his life, Ian had never felt more helpless.

  He tried to say the right words to her; it didn’t matter, she didn’t seem to hear him. He couldn’t tell her that things would be all right; they would not. Teddy was dead.

  Alaina hugged her father’s body, at first refusing to accept that he had died, then refusing to let him go. She begged him to breathe, and she told him that he couldn’t leave her.

  Not even Jennifer could reason with her.

  Alaina sat in the grove, Teddy’s head in her lap, shaken by endless silent tears that streamed down her cheek. Ian hunched down by her side, arms around her shoulders, looking at Julian as the violent tears shook her.

  “Julian?” he murmured.

  “Just let her hold him—and cry for now. She has to cry, it’s a part of grief, Ian.”

  A part of grief… She was going to hurt herself crying so hard, Ian thought. Her shoulders convulsed beneath his touch. He looked past her and saw that Jerome had taken charge of the green soldiers who had brought about such disaster. He had dragged in the body of the man Ian had killed in the shallows. The man’s corpse, with the chains rattling, hung over his cousin’s bronzed back as Jerome strode to the soldiers’ boat to deliver it there.

  The convicts would not be buried here.

  Ian watched as his cousin spoke angrily to the soldiers, standing on the shore until the men were back in their boat and leaving Belamar.

  “Alaina, Teddy is gone, you must come away,” Ian urged.

  And still Alaina couldn’t be talked into giving up her father’s body.

  “Give her time,” Julian suggested.

  But the minutes ticked by into more than an hour, with all of them still there in the grove, watching helplessly.

  “Maybe it’s enough time,” Julian told his brother quietly.

  Ian met his brother’s eyes and nodded. He had never seen anyone cry so hard, or so long. Her golden eyes were rimmed with red; her delicate features were drawn and white, her cheeks wet. She didn’t seem to see or hear anything; she just kept whispering Teddy’s name, cradling his head, stroking his cheek.

  “Alaina, you must come away.” He wrapped his arms firmly around his wife’s waist, lifting her.

  “No! No, no!” Alaina shrieked out.

  “Take Teddy, for the love of God. Julian, Jerome— take Teddy!”

  Ian had to grasp her hands to force her to release poor Teddy’s blood-soaked body. She fought like a tigress to hold on to him, shrieking, sobbing, thrashing out.

  The day was hot, and under the scorching sun, a body wouldn’t last long.

  Even drawn away from her father at last, Alaina continued to sob in such a way that Ian grew genuinely frightened for her health. Once separated from Teddy, she ceased to fight. But she continued to sob brokenly. He lifted her up and carried her into the house, following Jennifer to Alaina’s room. Once there, he laid her upon her bed and sat beside her, stroking her damp hair.

  “Alaina, please, please, don’t cry so hard. Alaina!” He stroked her cheek, staring into her eyes.

  She barely seemed to recognize him.

  Or to care.

  He sat with her while the shadows in the room drifted and changed. Her sobbing began to quiet.

  At last, a soft rustle of skirts could be heard and Ian saw that Jennifer had come in. “Jerome and Julian need to see you on the porch,” she told Ian. “I’ll stay here with Alaina.”

  Ian nodded. “Thanks,” he said, shaking his head, at a loss, staring down at Alaina. “I don’t seem to be much help to her.”

  “Probably far more than you realize,” Jennifer assured him. She squeezed his shoulder gently and he gazed up at his cousin. Her hazel eyes were red-rimmed as well, and he knew that Jen had cared about Teddy very much, too. Jen always had a quiet strength about her, learned through bitter lessons as a child, he thought. She had been one of his first teachers; he had looked to her often for advice as a boy—and as he grew up. He was very glad to have her here now.

  “Thanks again, cousin,” he said, standing, drawing her close in a quick, tight hug, then leaving her with Alaina.

  He found Julian and Jerome with Teddy’s body out on the porch.

  Night had come at last. With it, cooling breezes. Julian had bathed away the blood, Ian saw as he approached his father-in-law’s body, feeling the weight of sorrow encompass him. He touched Teddy’s white hair, remembering the many times they had talked, the things the man had taught him, and especially the conversations they had shared since spring. How strange that they should have discussed Henry Perrine then—a good man caught in the cross-fire of others.

  Teddy, it seemed, had lost everything the same way.

  “I don’t understand why the convict killed him,” Ian mused quietly. “He would have made far better use of Teddy as a hostage.”

  Julian looked at his brother. Then he wiped his hands on the surgeon’s apron he was wearing and turned to pick up a small bowl on the planked wood table where he had brought Teddy to dress him for burial.

  Ian looked into the bowl, then at his brother.

  “It’s a bullet. The bullet that killed Teddy.”

  “That’s right,” Julian said.

  “Look at it, Ian,” Jerome advised.

  Ian picked up the bullet, smashed from contact with one of Teddy’s rib bones, and stared at his brother again. “Army issue,” he murmured.

  Julian nodded.

  “Well, the convicts were deserters, naturally—”

  “The dead man in the lime grove was carrying an elaborate Sharps single-shot pistol.”

  “So he didn’t kill Teddy,” Ian said. Anger seemed to wash over him in giant waves. Teddy’s death had been a complete waste. Trigger-happy green recruits had killed a fine, decent man in their pursuit of a pair of deserters. He felt sick, wishing that Alaina didn’t have to know.

  For a moment he wondered if the truth could die right there, with him, Jerome, and Julian.

  But it couldn’t. Teddy was dead, and he had a right for the truth to be told. And there had to be a hearing as well; the army didn’t have a right to kill the citizenry. The duty of the armed forces was to protect the citizens.

  He inhaled deeply. “If Alaina is willing, we’ll bury Teddy tomorrow afternoon, in his lime grove. His favorite place. What am I talking about? Alaina will have to be willing; with this heat, well… There’s a good stack of pine boards in back; Jerome, if you don’t mind, you can help me make him a coffin tomorrow. Once Teddy’s buried, if the two of you would do me the favor, I want you to take the bullet down to Fort Taylor. I’m afraid to leave Alaina right now, but there’s going to have to be an inquest into this tragedy.”

  Jerome, arms crossed over his chest, features tense, nodded. “This should neve
r have happened.”

  “Never,” Ian agreed. He hesitated. “I’m really worried about Alaina. Julian, have you anything we can give her?”

  “Of course,” Julian agreed quickly.

  “She adored Teddy,” Jerome said. “This must be unbearable for her. I’ll finish here. There’s nothing you can do for Teddy now, Julian.”

  Ian led the way through the back kitchen to the long hallway, through the house, and to Alaina’s bedroom. Oddly, tonight was the first time he had ever seen her private sanctuary, the room that had been hers since she’d been a child. Like the rest of the house, it was as open as possible to the breezes. Mosquito netting lay over her high-canopied bed. Sleek, handsome cherrywood furniture filled the room: two wardrobes, a dresser and dressing table, and secretary. Bookshelves lined one wall; doors opened onto the porch across from them. Two wing chairs in a deep blue brocade sat before the fire. The room was feminine—Godey’s Lady’s Book fashion magazines were stacked on a trunk—but Alai-na’s reading material was as varied as that in her father’s main library. She had histories on the various European countries, books on Washington, Jefferson, and Jackson, underwater salvage charts, descriptions of ships and sailing. She also had all manner of books by authors as varied as Moliere, Shakespeare, Thoreau, and Poe. Mystery, adventure, romance, classics, and newer, more avant-garde works.

  Manuals on fencing; histories of firearms. Alaina had always been intent on taking care of herself, and she wasn’t a simpering little fool; she was quite capable, intelligent—even cunning. She might well have escaped her attacker this afternoon whether he had made an appearance or not. She was very, very hard to break.

  Yet now she seemed shattered.

  Jennifer sat on the side of the bed. Alaina was curled into a ball away from her, still in nothing more than the tatters of her white clothing. The sound of her ragged breathing, punctuated here and there by a sob, could still be heard. Jennifer helplessly rubbed her shoulders, looking at Ian and Julian, shaking her head.

  “I’m going to give her something,” Julian said.

  Jennifer nodded, but stood up, approaching her cousins and whispering softly. “You should know…”