Fire Dragon's Angel

by Barbara Blythe

  And Latimer was the dragon.

  Fire Dragon's Angel

  15

  Early June, 1676

  Ceressa stood by the starboard rail of the Virginia Princess, looking out. After weeks at sea she still had no idea where Latimer passed his nights, and she feared he spent most of them on the deck or, even worse, below with the sailors.

  Secret terrors flooded her soul. Today, she either found a way to return to London or truly assumed the role of Latimer’s wife. She shuddered inwardly at the thought of being accused of murder; then shuddered just as badly at the thought of being wife to a man who was so openly hostile.

  Ceressa recalled that moment when Latimer’s fever had broken, and she had known such joy. She had even confessed to Mariette in the privacy of the cabin that she was in love with Latimer but regretted her ill-thought decision to leave Sir Geoffrey’s house without seeking her godfather’s help. She feared she’d ruined any chance of true happiness with Latimer.

  That night he never presented himself at the cabin, and Ceressa had seen little of him since, other than dinner. He was polite but remote, as though he’d erected a barrier between them.

  “Did you sleep well last night, Lady Kirkleigh?”

  Ceressa turned to look at Mariette as the girl came to stand beside her. “I was a bit unsettled knowing what was ahead today. I trust you rested well?”

  “Knowing I will live at Tidelands has improved my sleep.” Mariette smiled. “I know it was you who persuaded Lord Kirkleigh to buy my indenture.”

  “I only hope you’ll be happy with us.”

  “How could I not be?” Mariette asked with the naiveté of the very young. “And you will be happy, too—mistress of a plantation and married to a wonderful man.”

  Ceressa doubted that. She was miserable, frightened, and worried, and not even her prayers reassured her God would see her through. Merely looking at Latimer did something strange to her. She was pulled to him much as the oceans were affected by the stages of the moon; a mystical, invisible cord attached her even when he made her angry.

  Catching Mariette’s troubled look, Ceressa quickly replied, “I can’t help but be heartsick over my parents. And I still worry over the fate of Charles Herrington.” Ceressa turned from Mariette to look out over the gray green water, fastening her eyes upon an indistinct speck on the horizon. It was only a little past dawn’s first light, gulls screeching raucously overhead. As the sun rose, they would enter Chesapeake Bay.

  “No one could possibly think you would have done the man harm other than in self-defense. As for your mother and father, all we can do is pray that they are well and safe. It’s a terrible thing to lose one’s mother and father.”

  Ceressa looked over at Mariette and noticed that the girl’s eyes were glassy. “Oh, Mariette, how thoughtless of me to bring that up. Forgive me, please?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. I know in Virginia I’ll have a life very different from what I knew in London. This is an answer to my prayers.” There was no mistaking the sincerity of the girl’s words, and Ceressa reached out to take her hands.

  “I must remember to be as positive as you, Mariette.”

  “You are very positive.” Mariette smiled her lovely smile. “Now, the bride of Lord Kirkleigh must present herself in raiment befitting her status for her arrival in her new home. I finished the alterations on the blue gown. The one with the silver threads.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I wear,” Ceressa said as she swept her hand across the skirt of the lavender gown she’d donned upon rising. “Lord Kirkleigh won’t care.”

  “He’s always watching you when you’re out, and scowls and frowns whenever you converse with the captain and his first mate. It may be he’s jealous.”

  “That’s absurd.” Ceressa laughed. Captain Stokeley and his rail thin first mate, Johnson Neathery, were hardly the sorts to inspire jealousy.

  “I tell you it’s so. It’s a good thing this voyage is almost over or his lordship would have permanent creases in that handsome brow.”

  Ceressa laughed again but ceased when she noticed Latimer walking toward them. Mariette curtsied when Latimer arrived and then excused herself. Ceressa’s spine stiffened as she met Latimer’s dispassionate gaze.

  “You seem in high spirits this morn,” he observed dryly. “Might I share in the joke? Or am I the joke?”

  “Hardly.” Ceressa welcomed the light breeze, which fanned her flushed face. “There’s very little about you that could prompt so much as a mirthful snort.”

  “I see.” A muscle twitched in his darkly tanned jaw. It was obvious he’d spent much time on deck, a journey lengthened by the numerous spring storms encountered. “You look tired.”

  She wanted to say the same about him, but he looked in the best of health, no trace of the fever evident. “I am most well. Nothing distresses me other than a lack of sleep. I fear I never quite adjusted to my accommodations.”

  “Perhaps you’ll sleep better once on land. You’ll have your own bed. I know I shall be glad to be back in mine.”

  Ceressa could feel the heat in her face. “So your sleeping arrangements during this voyage proved a disappointment?”

  “I learned long ago not to care so deeply as to be disappointed. Good day.” After uttering those curt words, he strode off.

  Ceressa silently despised herself for admiring the way his black velvet coat spread across his broad shoulders; for staring at his long, muscular legs encased in cream silk. He looked absolutely magnificent. Perhaps Mariette was right; perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to change into something grand. With that in mind, she quickly scurried back to her cabin, eager to provide that strutting rooster some competition.

  ****

  Ceressa had never considered herself one given to vanity, had never been concerned with her appearance, nor had she ever wanted to make a spectacle of herself. But an hour later, when she presented herself on deck in her Heloise cast-off, she had to admit to a bit of smug satisfaction as Captain Stokeley, his officers, and his seamen gawked and stared. Latimer stood with his legs braced, his arms folded across his chest, and his expression one of displeasure and aggravation.

  Catching up her trailing skirt, she moved across the deck. Captain Stokeley and Mr. Neathery hurried toward her, and she gave them a sugary smile.

  “Milady,” Captain Stokeley uttered breathlessly while taking her hand, “may I take the liberty of saying you are by far the loveliest woman to ever step foot upon the deck of my ship. His lordship is incredibly fortunate.”

  “Ceressa, might I have a word with you?” So, the smoldering dragon had been roused from his angry indifference.

  Turning, Ceressa saw that Latimer now stood very close, and there was no mistaking his vexation. With fingers of steel clamping her elbow, he guided her away while the crew reluctantly resumed their duties. Once out of hearing of the captain, Latimer tightened his hold and forced her around so that she faced him.

  “What did you hope to accomplish with your spectacular entrance?” he demanded. “These men have been at sea for months. They don’t need you parading around in your silk and lace reminding them they’ve not known the comforts of a wife for some time.”

  “There is nothing inappropriate in my attire.” Ceressa knew that the gathered lace at the neckline was both adequate and modest. Mariette had done a laudable job in refashioning the gown to fit. So why the telltale twitch in Latimer’s iron jaw? Obviously, she’d displeased him.

  “That isn’t the problem.”

  “Then enlighten me,” she taunted, taking pleasure in his discomfiture. Was Latimer reddening?

  “You look—you look much too lovely. Go back to your cabin and finish packing or something. Just don’t prance about on deck.”

  If Latimer thought he could dismiss her as though she were his servant, he needed to rethink things. Glaring at him, Ceressa placed her fists on hips. During those weeks he’d barely noticed her, she’d come to believe she had successfully su
ppressed the emotions he’d aroused those first few days of the voyage. As they surged to the fore once again, she was ready to wage war.

  “I’m packed, and I’m not going back to my cabin.” Blatantly disregarding his order, she made her way over to the rail. Filled with a tiny flame of anticipation, she secretly yearned for that moment when she would catch her first glimpse of Virginia. Not even Latimer could extinguish that.

  “Land ho!” bellowed the sailor perched in the crow’s nest, and she started. Sensing that Latimer was behind her, she remained motionless, her eyes focused on the land slowly coming into sight. He was evidently content to remain silent as well. Then the silence ended as his booted footfalls signaled his departure.

  Once again, uncertainty reared its ugly head. Should she embrace this new life with Latimer, or should she immediately find a way home? How else would she ever know if her parents had avoided the trap set by Herrington? How would she ever know if Herrington had died by her hand? If she returned to England, surely Sir Geoffrey would never allow her to hang.

  Releasing a huge sigh, Ceressa lifted her eyes to the cloudless blue sky, reveling in the warming sun and its promise of a glorious day. The nearing land lost its fuzzy edges and distinct shapes emerged. Tall reedy grasses rimmed the uneven shore, and towering trees bore the bright green glow of new growth, late spring suffusing this land called Virginia.

  An alarming cry filled the air, bringing every seaman and passenger to the deck. Ceressa noticed two ships in the distance, one much larger than the other but both engaged in a confrontation of some sort. She backed away from the railing and joined the gathered cluster, which included Captain Stokeley and Latimer.

  “It’s the Adam and Eve, to be sure,” Captain Stokeley said. “Captain Gardner’s ship. But the sloop; I’ve not a clue as to whom she belongs.”

  “I might.” Latimer’s words held a hint of disgust. Taking the spyglass from the captain, he trained it on the vessels in the distance. “Nathaniel Bacon. He has about two dozen men with him. Gentlemen, I believe we’ve arrived in time for the first fireworks of the rebellion.”

  “Latimer, what do you mean?” Ceressa pushed her way into the group. “Are those ships firing upon each other?”

  “Not yet, but dangerously close to doing so.” Latimer turned to the captain. “We must aid Captain Gardner.”

  “Without question,” Stokeley agreed. “Gentlemen,” he thundered, “prepare to assist the Adam and Eve.”

  Shots broke through the chorus of birds, emphasizing the escalating danger. Ceressa found Mariette and led her to a corner on deck.

  Latimer followed them. “You can’t stay here.”

  Ceressa bristled at his sharp words. “Mariette and I will keep out of the way.”

  “This is not the time for disobedience. I want you both below.”

  “What gives you the right to order me about?”

  “You’re my wife, whether you like it or not. Go to your cabin and stay there until I come for you.”

  Something in his tone warned Ceressa not to challenge him, so pushing Mariette ahead, she complied. As soon as she had Mariette safely in her cabin with firm instructions to stay, Ceressa hurried back out, daring to come up the steps and spy upon the unfolding events.

  The Virginia Princess neared the other two vessels, and Captain Stokeley loudly ordered a volley of warning shots. Angry shouts and savage curses rent the air, intensifying the threat to a palpable throb.

  Determined to see what was happening, Ceressa gathered up her voluminous skirt and petticoats and dared to venture on deck. She searched for Latimer from her hiding place behind a stack of coiled ropes.

  The Virginia Princess had drawn up beside the sloop with the ship referred to as the Adam and Eve on the other side. Ceressa finally located Latimer, and her heart lodged in her throat. High in the rigging, he was in full view of the rebel Bacon and his men—a perfect target for a loaded musket. How could he be so reckless, yet, so brave?

  “Bacon!” Latimer’s voice boomed. “What are you doing?”

  “Ah, Kirkleigh!” came an answer from somewhere on the sloop. “Back from Mother England, are you? I’d begun to think you were never returning. I’ve so looked forward to the resumption of our gentlemanly disagreements.”

  “I would never disappoint you, Bacon. What’s the meaning of this?” Ceressa emerged from her hiding place so that she could see and hear everything. With the men’s attention focused on the rebel planter, she moved closer to the scene of the unfolding drama, heart racing, blood pumping with terror and excitement.

  Fire Dragon's Angel

  16

  Bacon’s voice boomed again. “Cousin William has declared me an insurrectionist and traitor. First he denies me a commission to fight the savages that bathe our land in blood; then he dismisses me from the Council. But benevolent soul that he is, he did grant me permission to beg for a pardon. What do you think I told him?”

  “I’m sure you suggested that he take his permission and his pardon and place them somewhere unmentionable.”

  Bacon’s laughter rang out, freezing Ceressa’s blood. Moving closer, she edged along the side of the ship but halted when her skirt snagged on a splintered board. Ripping it free, she resumed her stealthy advance, determined to see this Nathaniel Bacon, whom she feared was Latimer’s enemy.

  “Kirkleigh, you know me too well. No one is ever as honest with me as you.”

  “Perhaps if you return to James Cittie, you and Sir William might be able to work things out.”

  “The time for talk has passed. I’m willing to die for my convictions. Are you?”

  Ceressa clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. Lifting her skirt and petticoats higher, she increased her pace, terrified that Bacon meant to kill Latimer. Dearest Lord, please don’t let that happen. Throwing caution aside, she ran, pushing her way past the startled seamen of the Virginia Princess who made no attempt to stop her. When she reached the front of the ship, she caught Bacon’s eye. Halting abruptly, she struggled to control her labored breathing, afraid her impulsiveness might have plunged her into more trouble.

  Ceressa wanted to utter a warning, but Bacon’s gaze paralyzed her. A man of average height with black hair, his eyes held a look of wildness, and they radiated a fanatical light, as did the eyes of the men with him. It was a crew of zealous souls, and Latimer was openly confronting their leader.

  “I see I’ve shocked Lady Kirkleigh. A pleasure to meet you at last. It’s common knowledge that Kirkleigh went to London to find a bride—that sort of news travels fast.” Bacon gave her a mocking bow, still swinging precariously from the rigging.

  Everyone was looking at her, and her cheeks were ablaze.

  “Welcome to Virginia. Please don’t think us uncivilized. Well, I suppose you are right, Kirkleigh. I should visit Cousin William. Gardner,” he yelled out, addressing the captain of the other ship, “come do whatever it is you were instructed to do by Sir William. The day is much too nice a one to spoil with a fight.”

  Weapons were lowered, murmurs and mutters rising in place of the earlier shouting. Ceressa’s knees were so weak she had difficulty walking. Just as her legs buckled, strong arms banded about her, lifting her easily. She dared not peer at Latimer’s face, for she knew that he was furious.

  “You don’t listen, do you?” Those words forced her to look at him, because she’d expected him to bellow. Instead, his tone was light and teasing, and the corners of his mouth were tilted as though he was amused. Ceressa was afraid to speak, certain her words would be incoherent after suffering through the agonizing fear that Bacon might kill Latimer. Latimer fell silent and purposely carried her toward the lower deck and the cabins.

  ****

  The arrival in James Cittie, or Jamestown, as some called it, was chaotic as the two ships and the sloop came up a river congested with an amazing variety of watercraft and an anchored man-o-war, making the town look as though it was under siege. The landing was thronged
with people. Silks, satins, and brocades mingled with plain homespun, linen, and coarse wool. Rich and poor, young and old all crowded close to the pier for a look at the rebel, Bacon.

  The securing of the ship brought on more frenzied activity and once completed, Mr. Neathery assisted Ceressa and Mariette into the long boat and rowed them from the Virginia Princess to the wharf. As soon as he’d helped them out, he gave them a quick goodbye, apparently eager to get back.

  Given the boisterous and irrepressible nature of the residents, Ceressa wondered where she and Mariette could safely await Latimer’s arrival. Glancing over at Mariette, she realized that the girl was trembling, her face unnaturally pale.

  “Everything is going to be all right,” Ceressa assured, even though she had no idea what might occur next. Mariette smiled wanly and nodded.

  Taking her hand, Ceressa led Mariette forward hoping to get a glimpse of what was happening. A half dozen soldiers carrying muskets and pikes marched before and behind several men attired in a manner bespeaking importance and passed them as they headed away from the wharf. The crowd broke into disrespectful chants concerning the governor and then erupted into cheers for Bacon who must have arrived at the pier. The crowd surged forward, bumping and jostling Ceressa and Mariette, separating them. Mariette screamed, but Ceressa couldn’t make her way back to the girl. What would happen if Mariette stumbled and was trampled by the crowd? “Mariette! Mariette!”

  Her neck ached painfully as she struggled to see over heads and ridiculously high, plumed hats in her search for Mariette. The crowd pressed toward their hero, forcing her to do the same. It had been foolish of her to don so fussy a gown; it was now proving an encumbrance and a hazard. Snatching up the skirt, she hoped to make better progress. Instead, her next step was a trip as her heel caught in the trailing lace of a petticoat. She pitched headfirst into the back of a man directly in front of her.