The cards were shuffled and dealt and Maggie began to keep vigil on the game, all the while struggling to loosen the ties on her hands. No man would take her against her will. Too many times she had submitted to Noah. Husband or not, no man had a right to force himself upon a woman.
As the game progressed it quickly became evident to Maggie that either Riker or Grayson would win her. Both were superior cardplayers. She wondered who the winner would be. There was something about the dark, strikingly handsome Riker that made her skin crawl, but the thought of struggling with Grayson on a bed . . . that would be worse.
Ale flowed and the men grew louder and more boisterous as the game grew tighter. Several other men from the camp gathered around the gaming table, choosing sides and cheering the players on. Bets were placed and money exchanged hands as soldiers wagered as to who would sleep with the red-haired bootmaker tonight.
Once, Gordy brought Maggie his tankard of ale to sip from, but she knocked it from his hand with a twist of her shoulder. He moved to strike her, but Grayson interceded. He said he wanted her "unblemished."
As the game continued, Maggie watched with growing fear. She couldn't believe these men were playing cards for her! She couldn't believe she'd been dumb enough to put herself into this position.
She eyed the cards as they were laid on the table. It was down to Grayson and Riker; the others were nearly out of coin. She watched the players' faces. The game was quickly turning toward Grayson's favor and Riker was growing angrier by the moment.
Grayson laid a flush on the table and the other players groaned aloud as they lost the entire pool of coins to their superior officer. Two soldiers, out of money, dropped from the game.
The next hand was dealt and again Grayson looed the other players. Maggie swore softly beneath her breath. It had suddenly occurred to her that Grayson was cheating. No man's luck held out that well. The bloodyback redcoat was cheating! She nearly called out to the other men, but thought better of it and held her tongue. Reason told her she'd be safer if Grayson won her. Perhaps she could talk him out of the rape. Riker . . . he was a brutal man bent on vengeance. She could see it in his pitch-black eyes.
The players moved into the final hand and the last cards were played. Grayson took the pool, sweeping the coins from the barrel table, and Riker threw down his cards in disgust. Maggie closed her eyes, trying to calm her pounding heart.
Grayson stood, offering his hand to Riker. "I told you she'd be mine."
Riker made no move to accept his peace offering. "This won't be the last of this, Thayer."
Grayson moved toward Maggie, ignoring the lieutenant's obvious threat. All he wanted to do right now was get the girl out of here while he still had control of the situation. He grasped her shoulders and lifted her to her feet.
Maggie's eyes flew open. She mumbled something against the handkerchief stuffed in her mouth.
"I'll take it out," he said quietly. "But you have to keep your mouth shut, or we're both in trouble, you understand?"
She nodded slowly.
"Untie me," she rasped the moment he pulled the handkerchief from her mouth.
"I wouldn't be untying her if I was you, Captain," Gordy offered, coming to stand beside Grayson. "A wild wench this one is. She socked Riker right in the jaw."
"Let me loose," she repeated through clenched teeth.
"You won't run?"
"I won't run," she responded.
Grayson crouched in front of her and cut the ropes that bound her feet together. Just as he was about to stand, she brought her bound hands up under his chin, striking him hard and knocking him off balance. Jerking from his grasp, she dove left.
Gordy broke into a cackle as he went after her. "God damn, Captain. I told you she'd run off," he shouted as he caught Maggie around the waist and hauled her back toward Grayson.
Maggie kicked and bucked wildly. "Let me go!" she shouted. "Let me go, you sons of bitches, or you'll be sorry."
Riker leaped up and came toward her, but Grayson stepped in, putting out his arms. "Give her to me, Gordy," he said sharply.
Gordy glanced at Riker.
"Now!" Grayson ordered.
Gordy shoved her forward and Grayson took her into his arms, looping her bound hands over his neck so that she was unable to escape.
"Put me down, you bloody redcoat," Maggie threatened, her voice husky and low. "Put me down or you'll rue the day you ever touched me!"
The British soldiers were gathering around, laughing, elbowing each other, and calling out crude comments.
"Guess you'll have your hands full tonight, Captain."
"Damned if I'd want a she-cat to share my bed. I'll take little Lyla any day!"
Maggie lifted her lashes to stare into Grayson's blue eyes. "It's not too late," she warned between clenched teeth. "Ye might still save your balls if you free me now."
The soldiers howled with laughter.
"Damned if that sour mouth doesn't need a little sweetening!" someone called.
"A kiss!" another offered.
"Yea! Kiss her! That'll shut her up. Every woman needs a good kissing!"
Grayson took a step back, but the men had him surrounded. Riker's eyes were on him, watching . . . waiting . . . daring . . .
Grayson brought his mouth down hard against Maggie's, thrusting his tongue between her lips. She struggled but her strength was little to match his.
The men hooted and hollered with glee, pounding each other on the backs and dancing in circles. Some well-wisher poured a mug of ale over their heads.
Maggie couldn't breathe. She could hear the men shouting. She could taste Grayson's mouth and feel the power of his assault.
When he pulled away, there were tears in her eyes. She pressed her face to his uniform, ashamed.
"Enough!" Grayson called. "Now let me through. I've business to attend to."
The crowd parted, allowing him to walk away. The minute they were out of the light of the fire Grayson leaned over to murmur in her ear, "Just keep quiet. We'll be in my tent in a moment."
"Let me go," she insisted, the fight nearly gone from her voice.
"I can't do that. You saw those men. I let you go and they all take turns at you. You want that?"
She didn't say anything. She knew he was telling her the cold hard truth of the matter, but she didn't care. What was he saying? That she should go along quietly just because he saved her from being raped by ten men . . . only to rape her himself? A sob escaped her lips.
Grayson hurried through the south sector of the camp, thankful his tent was a short distance from the others in his company. Private Michaels met him at the entrance to his tent.
"Captain Thayer?"
"Yes, Michaels, it's me. Just open the flap."
The boy stared at the woman in the captain's arms. It was quite obvious to him that she wasn't here of her own free will, unlike the others who frequented his captain's tent.
"Light a lamp," Grayson ordered.
"Yes, sir." The boy scrambled to do his bidding and in a moment the dark tent was filled with soft light.
Grayson walked to his cot and lowered Maggie onto it. As he raised her hands over his head he spoke, his voice harsh with authority. The teasing boy in him was gone. "Don't you move off that bed or I swear to God I'll tie you to it. You understand me?"
She swallowed hard, knowing he meant it.
"I said, do you understand?"
She lifted her head from his pillow, nodding.
"Good." He turned away. "That will be it for tonight, Michaels. You can go on to bed."
The boy lingered at the door, staring at the trembling woman. This wasn't like Captain Thayer to force a woman. The others . . . they always seemed to come so willingly.
"I said that will be it, Michaels!"
The boy snapped a salute and then ducked out of the tent, letting the flap fall behind him.
For a moment Grayson stood with his back to Maggie, deep in thought. What the hell was he going
to do with her? What was he going to say? Sorry, but I have to keep you here all night and make it look like I've raped you so nothing looks suspicious to Riker. You see, ma'am, I'm not actually a British soldier, I'm a patriot spy. A patriot spy in a hell of a lot of trouble . . .
He shook his head ever so slightly. No, that wasn't going to work, was it? He spun around to face her.
Christ, she looked so scared. But why wouldn't she be? He walked over to the cot.
It was all Maggie could do to keep from cringing. "Please let me go," she whispered. "I won't tell anyone."
"I can't. Nothing happens in this camp that everyone doesn't know about. I can't let you go until morning."
She swallowed back the lump that rose in her throat. "Could . . . could you at least untie my hands?"
He took his knife from his belt and slit the hemp, letting the ropes fall to the cot.
Maggie sat up, rubbing her wrists, staring back at him.
"I won't hurt you," he said.
"Guess that depends on your definition of the word hurt, doesn't it?"
He ran his fingers through his golden hair, sighing as he looked away. He couldn't help wondering how the hell he got into these predicaments. Pushing up off the cot, he went to his field desk and grabbed a pewter cup. Uncorking a bottle he poured himself a healthy dose of claret.
Maggie sat on the cot, her legs drawn beneath her skirting as she watched him . . . waiting. He'll not rape me, she vowed bitterly. I'll die first.
Grayson took his time with his drink, then poured another and set the cup on the desk. Sitting on the edge of a campstool, he tugged at his kneehigh boots. When they wouldn't budge, he swore. He'd sent Michaels to bed. Now how the hell was he going to get his boots off? The boy always did it for him. He glanced up at Maggie.
She shook her head ever so slightly. She knew exactly what he wanted before he spoke. Be damned if she was going to pull the man's boots off so he could throw her down and force himself on her!
"Maggie," Grayson said softly.
She shook her head harder.
"Maggie, come here. He pointed to his fine French boots. "Give them a pull."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Boots on, boots off. I didn't know men were so particular!"
He loosened the holster around his waist in which he wore his pistol and laid it on the desk. "Maggie, I've got no patience tonight. Come over here. There's no need for me to call the boy when you can pull off my boots for me."
She thrust out her chin defiantly and Grayson nearly smiled. In the soft lamplight her face was as comely as the heavenly female forms painted in flowing colors on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. And her hair, God, it was beautiful, with its thousand shades ranging from brilliant red to honey blond.
"Don't look at me like this is my doing, Maggie. Who entered a camp full of soldiers after dark?"
When she made no response, his eyes met hers. "Either you get up," he said softly, "or I come over and get you up. You've caused me a damned lot of aggravation and I'm not in the mood for your games."
After a moment's hesitation he started to rise off the stool and Maggie jumped up. In bare feet she padded across the canvas floor of the tent. Biting down on her lower lip, she knelt on one knee and grasped his boot. It was the finest boot she'd ever laid eyes on. Sewn of dyed black calfskin, the pair were worth well over a year of captains' wages. The leather was soft and supple, well oiled and properly cared for. She always liked a man who took good care of his boots. It showed he was a man of sensibilities.
Grayson's gaze fell to the crown of her head as she tugged off one boot, set it aside, and reached for the other. He rested his hand on her shoulder keeping her from moving away as she removed the other boot.
Maggie didn't like being so close to Grayson. It muddled her thoughts. She could smell the starch of his pressed uniform, mixed with the scent of shaving soap. She could hear his light, easy breathing. How could a man sit so easily, knowing he was about to defile a woman?
Maggie pulled back, but he caught her arm.
"I said I wouldn't hurt you," he said. "Now stop acting like a scared rabbit."
"Scared!" She stood. "I'm not scared of anything!"
He rose off the stool and began to unbutton his scarlet uniform vest. "I don't guess you are, are you? But you should be. Those men wouldn't have just raped you, they'd have killed you. I've seen what men like that can do to a woman. It would make you sick."
"I've been in and out of camps a hundred times in the last two years," she challenged. "No one ever bothered me before."
"Times change, don't they?" He dropped his vest on a wooden peg rack strung between two tent poles. "This isn't the same army it was two years ago. The men are tired and they're afraid."
Her hands fell to her hips. Funny conversation for a man about to commit rape, she mused. "Are you afraid, Captain Thayer?"
"I said, call me Grayson." He drew his white shirt over his head, leaving Maggie to stare at the broad chest sprinkled with fine golden hair.
The sound of shouting and boisterous laughter made them both turn their heads in the direction of the noise. "Hell," he muttered, grasping her arm. "Strip off your dress and get onto the cot."
"What?"
"You heard me, now strip it and get onto the bed. There isn't much time!" He shoved her.
Already the rowdy voices were growing closer.
"Just come to check up on you, Thayer," called someone.
"Just want to be certain the hell-cat didn't slit your throat!"
Grayson peeled off his tight white breeches and grabbed his pistol off his desk. "Hurry!" he urged in a whisper. "They're coming."
Maggie had to force herself to look away from his nakedness. She was as shocked by the beauty of his flat muscular form as by the size of his male organ. Holy Mary! He was twice the size of Noah!
"Maggie, have you gone deaf?"
She glanced in the direction of the approaching crowd. "I'm no whore. I'll not do it."
"If they don't think I have, they will," he snapped, grasping her arm and pulling her toward the bed. "Now step out of your skirt."
Knowing he was right didn't make it any easier. Tears stung Maggie's eyes as she fumbled with the button on her linsey-woolsey skirt.
"Quickly!"
She stepped out of it and handed it to him, knowing he could see her bare form beneath the filmy summer shift.
"The bodice, too. Keep your shift." He snapped his fingers "Hurry, girl."
"Hey, Thayer, old boy," someone called from just outside the tent. "You got her tied up or she got you?"
Grayson threw her clothing haphazardly to the floor and pushed her onto the cot, tumbling on top of her. Just as the tent flap lifted, he shoved his pistol under the pillow.
Maggie struggled beneath Grayson, trying to shove him off her. His face was buried in the crook of her neck. She could hear his uneasy breathing and practically feel his lips on her flesh. His nude male body was pressed against her curves, molding to her. In the fall to the cot, her shift had slid up and she knew she was baring her thigh and most of her hip to the men who were thrusting their heads through the flap in the tent.
A cheer rose from the soldiers and men clapped and whistled as they caught sight of their naked captain on top of the bootmaker.
"There you go, Captain Thayer," Gordy congratulated. "Looks to me like you tamed the wench well enough."
Grayson lifted up on one elbow, but kept Maggie pinned, his arm wrapped possessively around her. She pushed down her shift, eyeing the men at the door.
"Is there a reason why you're interrupting my pleasure?" Grayson asked good-naturedly.
"I told you, Captain," Gordy said drunkenly. "Riker thought we'd best be certain the hell-cat hadn't slit you end to end."
"Well, now that you've seen I fared well enough, I'll ask you to go."
"Right you are, Captain." Gordy saluted with his left hand and disappeared from sight. "Come on, boys, I don't believe the keg's d
ry yet!"
One by the one the men backed away and finally the tent flap fell and Grayson and Maggie were left alone.
"I should have known they'd come," Grayson said. "Where's my head these days? I should have been ready for them!"
Maggie held her body stiff beneath his as she stared up at him, frightened, not just of Grayson but of herself. Deep in the pit of her stomach she felt a warmth she knew he generated. Despite all that had happened tonight, a small part of her was excited by this man.
She held perfectly still as he traced the bridge of her nose with the tip of his finger.
"Pretty," he mused. "So pretty." He remembered the taste of her lips and the feel of the curve of her breast cupped in his hand. It would be so easy to take her, he thought. Not by force, but by gentle wooing. He lowered his mouth to hers letting his lips barely brush hers before he withdrew.
How long had it been since he'd made love to a woman? Lust he could remember . . . a blur of pretty faces and naked limbs. But love? Had he ever loved a woman? He thought of Maggie and the way she had looked that morning in her kitchen. He wondered what it would be like to wake up beside her at dawn and take her into his arms to kiss away her sleepy smile, to make her hot and damp with want of him.
To Maggie's surprise Grayson suddenly rose off the cot, taking his pistol with him. She watched in amazement as he walked across the tent, the muscles of his thighs and bare buttocks flexing as he went. He took a silk robe from one of the clothing pegs and, when he turned back around, he was decently covered.
Maggie sat up and reached for her skirt and bodice on the floor.
He poured himself another cup of claret and sat down in an upholstered wing chair that looked completely out of place among the other camp furnishings. "Get dressed," he said, gently, as it pained him. "Then you might as well sleep. I'll wake you at daybreak and then you can go."
Her dark eyes widened with surprise. "You . . . you mean you're not going to . . ." She let her words trail off into nothingness as she held her clothing crumpled in her hands.
He grimaced. "God's teeth, no," he said in his best arrogant-captain's voice. "I'm not going to rape you. Rape's not to my liking." He took a sip of his claret. "There're plenty of wenches in Yorktown willing, even if you aren't." With that he reached over and turned out the lamp, leaving Maggie in total darkness.
The Bootmaker's Daughter: Revolution (Destiny's Daughters Book 2) Page 5