The Raider

by Jude Deveraux

  He adjusted the mask on his face, making sure it was tight. There were times when he wanted to grab Jessica, grab her and show her he was a man.

  “Ooohhh.”

  He heard a cry that was half swoon, half plea and instantly realized he’d been so involved in thinking about what he’d to do to Mistress Jessica that he hadn’t been keeping watch.

  He reined his horse in, stood still and listened as someone came thrashing toward him. He drew his sword and waited.

  Mistress Abigail Wentworth, her pretty face flushed from the exertion, came bursting through the trees. She took one look at the Raider atop the black stallion, put her hand to her breast and began to sink to the ground.

  Alex was off his horse in seconds and caught her before she hit the floor of the forest.

  “Will you use that on me?” she gasped, lying in his arms and rolling her eyes toward his sword. “Will you slice the clothing from my body before you have your way with me?”

  “Why no, I…” He wasn’t sure what to answer her but the sight of her heaving bosom so exposed to his view—she’d removed her scarf so a great deal of young, pink flesh was showing—made him think about her offer. “Are you all right?”

  She threw her arms about his neck, pressing her bosom to his chest. “I am your slave, your captive. Do with me what you will.”

  Alex raised his eyebrows, but never a man to question extreme good luck, the next minute he was kissing her. She returned his kiss with such passion that before he knew what he was doing, he was halfway to the ground with her.

  She was eager, warm, willing—and the daughter of one of his father’s oldest friends.

  “Abby,” he said, trying to disentangle himself from her arms. Her hair had come loose and it was soft against his cheek. “Abby.” Her name came out like a groan.

  “I love to hear you say my name. My own Raider. My own true love.” She moved her hips against his, trying to kiss him again, but he pulled away.

  “Go home to your mother,” he said and found his voice a little shaky. Why did he have to be the Raider in his own hometown? Anywhere else and he’d take this eager young filly without a thought. “Go home, Abby. Please go home.”

  She flung herself against a tree, her face flushed, her breasts about to come out of the tight dress. “How noble you are,” she whispered.

  “Or how stupid,” Alex mumbled, looking at her. If he didn’t get out of here soon, he’d lose his resolve. With half of his mind calling him a fool, he jumped into the saddle of his horse. “Goodbye, Mistress Abigail,” he whispered as he urged his horse forward.

  “Damn all women!” he cursed. Jessica thought he wasn’t a man at all and Abigail thought he was more man than a herd of stallions. He shifted in the saddle, feeling like only half the man Abby thought him to be. Now all he had to do was make it to Ghost Island—and he prayed he would encounter no more women.

  * * *

  Jessica looked at the big basket full of blackberries and grimaced. She owned her own ship, had sailed, by herself, as far south as New Sussex, yet today she’d been relegated to picking blackberries like a naughty child.

  And it was all the Raider’s fault!

  When it had been announced that George Greene was to be whipped, everyone had said the Raider was going to save him. They had said the Raider had to save the boy, as if it were a matter of honor.

  As if they knew anything about the Raider’s sense of honor or anything else for that matter, she thought. Everyone in town seemed to have endowed this Raider with magical skills, talents that no human had ever possessed. They expected this masked man to right all wrongs, to single-handedly fight the British laws.

  But not everyone had believed the Raider to be perfectly good. Jess had delivered twenty pounds of haddock to the Montgomery house and had been told Sayer wanted to see her. She hadn’t seen him since the evening the Raider had thrown her in the washwater and she’d cried in his arms. She had been smiling when she entered Sayer’s room but not when she left.

  Sayer had demanded that she stay away from town the next day. It had been on the tip of her tongue to ask him what gave him the right to make such a demand, but she hadn’t said what she thought. The Montgomery family had been good to hers over the years and, besides, she couldn’t very well be disrespectful to an old and crippled man who was only concerned for her well-being. Reluctantly, she had agreed to stay in the forest for the entire day. Sayer hadn’t even wanted her on the wharf or near her own ship.

  So now, here she was, doing children’s work, all because of that man who called himself the Raider.

  Near the blackberry patch, under some trees, was a bed of moss that looked very inviting. It might do Eleanor some good to have her sister come back very late and give her a little something to worry about. Smiling somewhat smugly, she stretched out on the moss and was asleep in minutes. Unfortunately, she began to dream about the masked man who was upsetting her life so badly. She was reliving the time he had humiliated her and the time he had kissed her when she’d been helping him to escape.

  “Jessica! Jessica, are you all right?”

  Jess awoke with difficulty, clutching at the strong arms that held her. “I was dreaming,” she said. “He—” She stopped because the person holding her was the man who was causing all her problems: the Raider.

  “You!” she gasped. “You!” Without another thought, she drew back her fist and hit him on the jaw.

  “Why you little brat!” he seethed at her, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her to the ground. The worn-out fabric of her dress front split open, exposing a thin line of soft, white fabric from neck to waist. The pink of her skin showed beneath the fabric.

  Jessica felt the dress split, then saw the look in the eyes behind the black mask. “If you touch me, I’ll—”

  “Feel rewarded,” he said angrily, keeping her pinned to the ground while his lips came down on hers.

  Jessica felt his lips for the second time and began to fight. She’d die before she let this man force himself on her. She kicked out at him, catching him once on the shins. She felt him suck his stomach in at the pain, but he kept his lips glued to hers.

  He threw his leg over hers to keep it still. Jess tried to wiggle out from under him. She flung her head sharply to one side, away from his torturous kiss.

  The Raider pinned both her hands above her head with one of his, then took her chin in his other hand and forced her mouth back under his. To keep her hips still, he put his full body weight on her.

  For a moment, Jessica was still. There were emotions shooting through her that she’d never felt before. Was this what the newly married women giggled about? Was this the emotion that made engaged girls starry-eyed?

  The Raider pulled away from her lips, but kept his face close to hers. It was evening and the starlight made his face darker, his eyes more brilliant than ever.

  “Jessica,” he said, and there was some wonder in his voice.

  She blinked at him a couple of times, then in one violent motion pushed him off her and stood.

  The Raider, that finely chiseled mouth of his smiling, looked up at her. “Well, Jessica, for all your men’s airs, you are a woman after all.”

  Jess grabbed a handful of blackberries from her basket and prepared to throw them at him.

  Like a big cat, he leapt to his feet and grabbed her hand. He closed his hand over her little one and squeezed until the berries oozed out between her fingers. Looking into her eyes, he began to lick the juice from between her fingers. For some reason, the sight of his tongue made Jessica’s heart beat a little faster.

  He easily pulled her hand behind her back and moved so his body was touching hers. “I believe I missed a few berries,” he whispered, then bent and pressed his face to her chest and began kissing the top of her heaving breast.

  He looked back at her.

  Jessica was staring at him in wide-eyed astonishment, not understanding at all what she was feeling. She couldn’t move but just stood
there stupidly, allowing this man to touch her.

  “Good-bye, my sweet Jessica. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

  As he mounted his horse, Jessica just stood there, hands to her side, crushed blackberries running down her skirt, and watched.

  He raised his fingertips to his lips.

  It was his smile, that knowing, smug smile, that made Jessica come out of her stupor. She grabbed another handful of berries and sent them flying at his head. But he was already gone and all that was left was the sound of his laughter echoing through the trees.

  “I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!” she said, stamping her foot and snatching the two baskets of berries she’d picked. “I really, truly, honestly, absolutely hate him.” She started down the path toward town, but on impulse looked back at the bed of moss where she’d lain with the Raider. Without thinking about what she was doing, she plucked a little yellow flower from the edge of the moss and tucked it into the torn bodice of her dress.

  “Have to fix that,” she murmured as she ran her hand along the edge of her dress.

  “I hate him, I really do,” she repeated, as if she hadn’t really believed herself the first time, then started home.

  * * *

  “Punishing the horse again?” Nicholas asked as he walked up behind Alexander. “That could only be caused by your lady Jessica.”

  Alex kept brushing the horse with vigor, making the stallion’s black coat shine. Absently, he swatted at mosquitoes as they sought his sweaty, bare skin. “The last I heard, you weren’t faring too well yourself. Did you wash the kitchen floor?”

  Nick grunted in response as he eased his big body onto the driest spot of ground he could find on the marshy island. “That woman will find herself being used as a mop.”

  “I know what you mean. Jessica is going to be the death of me. One minute she’s as cold as winter; she has frost on her lashes. The next minute I’m getting sunburned.”

  “Eleanor wanted me to clean the fireplace. I told her I put things in the fireplace but I take nothing out.”

  “Of course Jess did risk her life to help the Raider. He would have been caught if it hadn’t been for her. And then for the Raider to treat her with so little respect! It wasn’t right.”

  Nick rubbed his hand on his jaw. “I’ve always been told that I have the bearing of royalty. Many women have told me that they would know that I was the czar’s cousin even if I were wearing nothing. Or perhaps especially then. So why does this Eleanor Taggert not know that I’m Russian royalty? How can she dare treat me as…as a scullery maid?”

  Alex began to comb the coarse mane of his horse. “She’s really very courageous. Did you know that everyone in town was laughing at her for getting herself thrown in the hold? George Greene was a hero, the Raider was a hero, but Jessica Taggert was a foolish girl.”

  “Eleanor must be blind. She has the bluest, clearest eyes ever made by God but they are useless.”

  “They laugh at her for her clothes, and for that old boat of hers, and for all those kids, but she’s doing the best she can. Little Molly told me Jess has the trousers she wears and that single ugly old green dress.” He stopped brushing. “And the Raider tore that.”

  “Eleanor said—” Nick broke off. “I thought you were the Raider. Did you tear her dress?”

  Alex frowned. “Yes, I guess I did. I didn’t mean to, it was all Abigail’s fault. ‘Do with me what you will’,” he mocked. “And then there was Jessica, lying on the ground. She was asleep, but at first I thought she’d been hurt and the Raider—I mean me—I grabbed her and she hit me and…”

  “Her dress was torn. I understand. Did you tear it completely off?”

  “Of course not! Even the Raider, blowhard that he is, wouldn’t hurt a virtuous woman.”

  “You should have used your sword. The women like that. I once sliced a gypsy’s dress off, layer by layer, while she danced. And later—”

  Alex threw down his brush and started toward Nick. “She’s not like that! She’s brave and generous and intelligent and—”

  “But the Raider took advantage of her. Perhaps you should challenge him to a duel.” Nick’s eyes were laughing, his mouth twitching.

  Alex stood over Nick, his muscles straining with anger, and he began to see the absurdity of what he was saying. He turned back to his horse. “I may be the Raider but I am Alexander also.”

  “Ah, the dilemma, whether a woman loves the man himself or what she thinks he is. Or perhaps she is torn between a man’s mind and his kisses. Which do you think she’ll choose?”

  Alexander didn’t answer his friend because, at the moment, he wasn’t sure which man he wanted her to choose.

  He laughed aloud at his thought. “What do I care what Jessica Taggert does? I’m grateful she helped the Raider. Helped me, I mean. She’s pretty and desirable, but so are half the other single women in the world. My father informed me last night that it was time I married and produced an heir or two. He says he doesn’t want to die without grandchildren. I think he’s spending too much time with young Nathaniel.”

  “Don’t mention that boy’s name to me!” Nick said. “He never leaves Eleanor’s side. Yesterday I—” Nick stopped, smiling at some memory he seemed to want to keep to himself. “I would not have so much trouble if I did not have that boy around.” His head came up. “Why don’t you marry your Jessica?”

  “As who? The Raider or Alexander who she thinks is fat and lazy? The Raider would marry her while leaping from one yardarm to the next so the soldiers couldn’t catch him, and Alex would never be able to make up his mind which coat to wear. I doubt if she’d have either man.”

  “Ah,” Nick said.

  “And what does that mean?”

  “Ah. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Alex gave a final brushing to the horse. “Tomorrow Alexander Montgomery shall go courting. There are other women in this town besides Mistress Jessica. Sweet, docile, lovely women, women who judge a man by what’s inside him. I may not look so good when I’m padded and wigged but there is a man underneath. Jessica will see that when she knows there are women who can see beyond a few yards of satin.”

  “You have more faith in women than I do.”

  “I have faith only in Jessica. She has more sense than most women.”

  “As has her sister. Except now and then—”

  “Now and then Jessica can be an idiot. Why doesn’t she see that I am—”

  The men continued with the lament of all men.

  * * *

  Eleanor tried to prepare dinner on the same table where Jessica was doing her accounts.

  “Would you be more careful with that?” Jess snapped when Eleanor splashed batter on a precious piece of paper. “I don’t think old man Clymer will like cornmeal on his ledger.”

  “He won’t care what’s on it. All he wants is an excuse to see you. He’s only pretending that his hand is injured. Yesterday I saw him using an axe.”

  “Whatever the reason, we can use the leather from his tannery. The children need shoes for winter.”

  Eleanor kept stirring the batter in the big wooden bowl. “Jess, have you seen Alexander lately?”

  “Not in about a week,” she replied, adding numbers in her head.

  “You didn’t have a quarrel, did you?”

  Jess looked at her sister as if she’d lost her mind. “What are you talking about? What would we quarrel about?”

  Eleanor poured the batter into a cast-iron spider by the tiny fireplace. “I don’t know. You two seemed to be such good friends for a while and now you never see him. You aren’t laughing at him again, are you?”

  Jess gritted her teeth. “No, I didn’t laugh at him. I didn’t shake my finger at him. I didn’t jump around a corner and yell ‘boo’ at him either. You ought to know why I haven’t seen him or anyone else.” She glared at Eleanor over the table. After she’d been taken prisoner for helping the Raider escape and Alex had obtained her release, Jessica had been given a
blistering lecture by Sayer Montgomery, with Eleanor sitting nearby and crying juicily into half a dozen of her employer’s clean handkerchiefs. It had been bad enough that Jessica had been banished to the forest the day George Greene was to be whipped, but when she’d returned with her dress torn and a bruise on her throat, Eleanor had been nearly hysterical. Jess had lied about her dress, but Eleanor had seen through it and Jess had given herself away by blushing when the Raider’s name was mentioned.

  Now, a week after the raid, Jess was still more or less housebound. She hadn’t been on her boat, she hadn’t been in town. Instead, she’d been left with the full care of all seven children. As if that weren’t enough to drive her out of her mind, old man Clymer had asked her to balance the accounts of his leather-tanning business in exchange for several tanned hides.

  So for a week Jess had recorded sales (Clymer was two years behind in his bookwork), pulled a child away from the fire, added a column of figures, prevented one child from killing another, re-added the column, yelled at Nathaniel to stop tormenting his sister and go dig clams, re-added the column, then swatted Sam because he was pulling the cat’s tail, then…On and on for seven whole days.

  And now Eleanor was asking her if perhaps she’d angered Alexander. “I haven’t angered anyone. I have been the perfect young lady. I have dipped candles, I have washed clothes, I have washed faces and bottoms. I have—”

  “And you have avoided the customs officer. You know the man suspects you, Jessica. Only Mr. Montgomery—”

  “Yes, I know,” Jess sighed. “I am very grateful. I really am glad of all he’s done and I am very sorry I ever was such a fool as to help the Raider.” She caught her sister’s eye. “Any news yet?”

  “There are reward handbills posted everywhere. Mr. Pitman means to have this Raider of yours.”