Fire Dragon's Angel

by Barbara Blythe

  “Won’t need it. You have the protection of soldiers on this ship. Take care, Bengie. I’ll be praying that you and April reach Tidelands safely.”

  “I’ll be praying for you and Master Latimer, Mistress Ceressa,” he said as he handed her the weapon.

  Clutching the sword with one hand, she lifted her tattered skirt and petticoat and ran to the gangplank. Treading on toes and elbowing her way through, she managed to descend to the wharf. Sword still in hand, she rushed past those boarding as she made her way toward the deserted town.

  ****

  Latimer willed himself into numbness; otherwise, the bruises and battering he’d suffered while trying to escape would serve to be his undoing. The flesh on his right side burned from the cut administered by Bacon days before even though he’d sloshed the ale that had been brought to him with each meager meal on the wound. Now, chained like an animal, he couldn’t chance thinking about Ceressa. She would be on her way downriver with April and Bengie. In time, she’d sail back to England with April, and once there his father would see to their protection. Amazing that the nearer he came to death, the easier it was to accept Geoffrey as his father.

  “Latimer!” The scream ricocheted off the dank walls of his prison. The voice floated through the emptiness then filled him with both elation and dread. Forced to think, he opened his eyes, gaining his feet awkwardly as a decidedly feminine body wreathed in silk rags and holding a sword stopped before the door of his cell. The vision reached over her head and removed a ring of keys from a peg.

  She inserted several before one turned the lock with a melodious click. The door swung open, and she advanced, still holding the keys and the sword. He automatically held out his hands to her. With a small key, she freed his wrists, then he took the ring of keys from his amazing but disobedient wife and crouched, at last finding the one that released him from the irons about his ankles. Nearly delirious and heady from the scent of glorious freedom, Latimer stood, surprised when Ceressa backed away in fear.

  “Don’t you dare chastise me or tell me that I should’ve listened to you. If I had, you’d have been little better than a fettered goose, waiting for Bacon to wring your neck, pluck your feathers, roast you, and feast upon you for dinner. I don’t care that I disobeyed—I’d do it again; and if I live through this, I will do it again.”

  Ceressa stood before him, defiant, regal, and splendid, even in her ragged garb, her hair snarled and unruly, her porcelain skin dirtied and bruised. Ceressa Quarles was undoubtedly the most vexing, impetuous, determined woman who’d ever lived. And perfect for him. Before he could crush her to him, three men rushed through the vacant sentries’ quarters, swords drawn. Ceressa quickly turned with a gasp.

  Bacon’s men charged, and Latimer started to place himself before Ceressa until she shoved him back with surprising strength. She struck the first man with her sword, sending him to his knees as blood poured from a wound in his shoulder. Howls of pain filled the closed space while the remaining two hesitated in view of Ceressa’s surprise attack. She swiped another man across the upper chest causing him to lose his weapon, which Latimer quickly grabbed. Turning his attention to the third man, he forewent all proper training and attacked with ugly aggression ignoring the pain that radiated throughout his body from the cut near his ribs. Ceressa’s first victim regained his feet and lunged at her. The clang of steel assured Latimer she’d parried the blow, but still he prayed that Ceressa would hold her own against the man.

  Fortunately, Latimer’s challenger was already tiring, and within seconds, Latimer had wounded the man seriously enough to encourage him to drop his sword and run. Latimer whipped around in time to see Ceressa press the tip of her blade beneath her opponent’s chin with instructions to leave. The man did so without hesitation.

  Seconds were precious and time was passing far too quickly if they were to board one of the evacuation ships. Grabbing Ceressa’s free hand, he hauled her from the cell area, through the sentries’ quarters, and out a rear door.

  “You’re good.” He gasped as they both commenced a hard run.

  “You…should…know.” She gasped also, somehow managing to keep up with him.

  Well he recalled fencing with Ceressa in the dark on the road to the York River. And how he’d passed that night with Ceressa in his arms. God, grant us both safe passage home. Let us be as one again in all ways. “It appears that you’ve been the one who’s instructed me in all the…important things…in life.” Latimer would have laughed had the pain in his side not been so severe.

  The wharf came into sight, two ships already well out into the river, the third and last one pulling away at that very moment.

  “Remember the swimming lessons?” He’d already stopped and was stripping off his jacket and shirt. Ceressa turned around, her eyes widening at the sight of his bare chest.

  “I do, but why do you ask?” It wasn’t hard to tear away what was left of Ceressa’s badly battered gown. She began to tremble.

  “Because you’re going to need them. Now.” Flinging his sword and hers aside, he took her hand and ran toward the wharf. Leaping high in the air, he carried her with him, both of them hitting the water simultaneously. He lost hold of her hand, but she quickly bobbed to the surface less than two feet from him.

  Ceressa moved her arms, soon falling into a steady rhythm. Latimer swam beside her, heading toward the ship with its passengers that yelled out encouragement. They were but a few feet from the ropes that had been thrown out to them over the ship’s side when there was an explosion followed by the roar of fire. Taking hold of Ceressa’s arm, he propelled her forward at a faster speed, not sure what was happening behind them. Those trying to help them called out to them to hurry.

  Ceressa grasped the first rope and was pulled up; Latimer took hold of the second, hauled up behind her. Once on board, Latimer looked back toward James Cittie, the hazy red-orange of the setting sun blending with the inferno which signaled the end of the colony’s capitol. Never again would king and crown elicit the same respect from Virginians, and the first thread of the cord that bound them with England had irreparably frayed.

  “Ressa! Ressa! Unca Lat! Unca Lat!” A tiny whirlwind threw herself against his wet leg, and he looked down to see an urchin that had once been his sweet and very tidy April. He laughed as he lifted her with one arm then turned in search of Ceressa. Two women were wrapping her in a blanket in an attempt to preserve some bit of her modesty. Latimer strode toward her and with his other arm, gathered her close. He kissed her deeply, longingly, and thoroughly right before everyone, and in such a way she would no longer wonder if they would be sleeping in separate rooms. Never again, he vowed fervently, as long as the Lord God of Heaven gave them life on earth.

  Fire Dragon's Angel

  41

  Four days later, as the bedraggled group turned onto the path that led to Tidelands, Bengie put his horse to a gallop and flew toward the house. Ceressa, with April seated before her, turned to Latimer. They shared a look, Ceressa lifting a silent prayer that Bengie’s heart wouldn’t be broken. After all that had happened, to discover that Mariette had died would be more than any of them could bear

  The wondering was agonizing and when at last the house came into view, Ceressa slowed her horse. Latimer did the same and gave her a questioning look.

  “I’m so afraid, Latimer. If Mariette—”

  “Leave this in the Lord’s hands, my love.”

  “But she saved my life.”

  “Let the Lord work His will, Ceressa.”

  “Why do you choose this moment to speak as a minister?”

  “I don’t have to be a minister to know that we have to trust our Savior.”

  She wanted to rail and weep and demand answers from God.

  Latimer reached out and cupped her chin. “Have faith, Ceressa.”

  She folded her hand over his and gave him a watery smile. Resolved, she urged her horse forward, Latimer moving behind her.

  When they rea
ched the front entrance, all of Tidelands was gathered. Handing April to Mrs. Arston, she quickly dismounted, aware of the curious eyes that swept the boy’s garb that had replaced her indecent chemise but was concerned only with discovering Mariette’s fate. Shoving her way through, she suddenly stopped. There before her stood Bengie, his arms about a very-much alive Mariette, kissing her face and her lips. Heat suffused Ceressa as she realized that she and Latimer had engaged in a very similar reunion on the ship that had taken them from James Cittie, certainly giving the passengers something to talk about. She started toward the couple until a hand gently fastened on her arm. Turning her head, she saw that it was Latimer.

  “There’ll be an opportunity to speak with Mariette later. Give them this time.” Tears sprang into Ceressa’s eyes, tears of relief and thankfulness. Latimer pulled her against him and pressed his lips to the top of her head. God had brought them safely home.

  ****

  A ragged, red welt on her temple was the visible evidence of Mariette’s encounter with the rebel’s bullet. Miraculously, it had only grazed her, and Mrs. Arston said she’d roused shortly after Ceressa and April’s departure. Ceressa, her hunger now sated, her body soothed and steamed clean by a much-needed bath, and decently clad, watched the couple through the open French doors of Latimer’s library as they strolled among the roses. There was no doubt that a wedding would be forthcoming in a matter of weeks. Turning away lest she accidentally observe a private moment, she smiled at Latimer who was slowly spinning the globe.

  “I hope you’re not planning any more adventures.” He looked up at her words and returned her smile. She settled in a worn, but comfortable, armchair.

  “I’ve had quite enough of that. Home is where I want to be.” A gentle warmth spread through Ceressa as she met his gaze filled with love. She now realized his eyes had often reflected his love, but she’d been too consumed with her own problems so see it. How many other things had she missed?

  “Do you think it’s over?”

  Latimer shook his head and her heart sank. “Far from over, love.”

  “Latimer, there’s something you should know.”

  “You wrote to my father.”

  “Yes, but how…did Torrence tell you?”

  “He did. And he also apologized for the part he played in my disgrace at Exeter.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Quite serious.

  “I suppose I should apologize.”

  “But you aren’t in the least bit sorry. Thank you.”

  “Why are you thanking me?” Could the day hold any more surprises?

  “For rescuing me from the governor.”

  “I could have cheerfully throttled Sir William and not suffered one moment of remorse.” Without thinking, she lifted her chin.

  “Do I detect a hint of ferocity?”

  “Indeed, you do. It will serve as a warning not to take me lightly.”

  “After witnessing your swordsmanship and having experienced it first hand, I assure you, milady, I will never take you lightly. And I will willingly surrender any time you feel it necessary to employ your skills. I am in your hands.”

  Ceressa laughed. It felt good to laugh. There had been so much sadness of late, and so many people had seen their dreams reduced to rubble and ash. How blessed were she and Latimer to be home, surrounded by the people they loved and who loved them. How blessed they were to have been brought through such perilous events with only a few cuts, scratches, and bruises.

  “And I am also grateful that you made me see the truth. You are an amazing woman.”

  “I thank you, as well.”

  He arched a dark brow. “For?” he asked as he moved away from the globe and walked over to where she sat. Kneeling before her, he took her hand in his.

  “For teaching me the skills I needed to survive in this land that you love. For making me feel special that summer when I was an awkward, uncertain young girl fearful of approaching womanhood.” Placing her other hand along Latimer’s once more cleanly shaven jaw, she drew upon his strength. “I knew then that I would love you forever.”

  He pressed his mouth against her palm, the earlier warmth she’d felt now replaced by a less subtle heat. Raising his head, he met her gaze, his eyes filled with tender passion.

  “I have a confession,” he said huskily. “I also wrote to my father.”

  Ceressa giggled.

  “You find that amusing?”

  “I should’ve known you’d do the honorable thing. And to think I ever doubted.”

  “There’s one thing I’ll not have you doubt ever again.” He drew her to her feet. “I believe by now Mrs. Arston and Libby will have moved all of your things across the hall. Which I hope is agreeable to you?”

  Wild elation filled her and, without considering her actions, she rose up on her toes and kissed him.

  Fire Dragon's Angel

  42

  Tidelands Plantation—October 1676

  “I can’t believe he’s dead.”

  Ceressa’s softly uttered words barely rose above the crackle of the fire, but Latimer heard her, for her head rested on his shoulder as they sat together on the settle in the library. Earlier that day, a servant from Carrumont had delivered the news to Tidelands that Bacon was dead, a fever having claimed his life. He’d died at the home of a supporter in Gloucester County; a minister by his side until the end. Latimer wondered if Bacon had now found the peace he’d never known in life.

  “So it’s over?”

  “This may only be the beginning.”

  Ceressa sat up and looked at him, puzzlement etched in her eyes. “What are you saying?”

  “There may come a time when not only Virginia colonists, but those living in the other colonies will be forced to take a stand either for or against the crown. This rebellion may only presage what is to come.”

  Silence slipped about them, disturbed only by a warming snap, hiss, and pop. The hour was late, and he and Ceressa had long since tucked April into bed after reading to her The Hearth Cat, her favorite story. Approaching footsteps brought him to full alertness. Mrs. Arston paused just inside the open door.

  “There are visitors, Master Latimer.” Her voice was high-pitched, and she nervously twisted her hands. Latimer rose and walked over to the woman. The housekeeper was behaving curiously. Ceressa joined him.

  “Who wishes to see me at this hour?”

  “They’ve traveled from the port in Norfolk and are tired and hungry. And eager to see the two of you.”

  Latimer’s curiosity mounted. Trepidation and uncertainty warred within him, although Mrs. Arston didn’t seem frightened.

  “Who has traveled from Norfolk and is tired and hungry?” There was a bit of snap to his words.

  “Souls I never thought to see on this side of the water. Why, ’tis a miracle.”

  Brushing past Mrs. Arston, Latimer strode forcefully down the hall but stopped suddenly when two men came into view. His chest tightened, his pulse hammered, and he was certain he was dreaming—or having a nightmare. Or witnessing the miracle Mrs. Arston had spoken of.

  Ceressa had followed and now grasped his arm. She trembled, and he quickly enfolded her in his arms. All the while, her eyes remained fixed on the new arrivals.

  Torn between relief and anger and thankfulness, Latimer could only stand there and hold Ceressa, robbed of the power of speech.

  Unexpectedly, she sagged in his arms.

  “I’ll fetch the salt of hartshorn.” Mrs. Arston turned away, but Ceressa caught the woman’s arm and shook her head.

  “I’ll be fine.” Then she focused her gaze upon the man who had plagued Latimer’s conscience for the past seven months. “Is it really you, Sir Geoffrey?”

  “Aye, my dear child. And I’ve brought someone else with me who has been beside himself with worry these past months.”

  Latimer looked fully at his father’s companion. It had been years since he had last seen Jonathan Quarles, but there was no
mistaking the air of refinement and patrician bearing. As Quarles removed his hat, the candles picked out the silver strands in his fading blonde hair. Ceressa pulled out of his arms and ran the short distance to her father. It was then Latimer rediscovered his powers of speech.

  “You’re not dead.”

  His father-in-law shook his head. “Praise God, I’m not,” Jonathan Quarles managed a smile while he clasped Ceressa close. She sobbed incoherently, and Jonathan murmured reassurances. Mrs. Arston tapped Latimer lightly on the arm. He’d forgotten the woman was there.

  “Perhaps, Lord Kirkleigh, they need some time alone.” Latimer nodded in agreement, suddenly feeling as though he didn’t belong. He felt the intruder.

  ****

  Ceressa’s sobs eased, at last convinced the man who held her was not a ghost or an angel. Her beloved father was truly alive. “Father?” she whispered as she pulled away and looked into his eyes.

  “Yes, my sweet Ceressa. It’s me. I’m here and you’re safe. And apparently now a married woman. Somehow I thought when I found you you’d still be my little girl.”

  “I haven’t been a little girl in a long time. Mother?”

  “Is at the Mews but sends her love to you. So much has happened.”

  “You’ll tell me everything?”

  “We will.” It was Sir Geoffrey who answered as he moved close to them. “That is, if we’re invited to stay.”

  “You know that without asking. Mrs. Arston and I will see all of you fed and properly settled. But Sir Geoffrey, I simply don’t understand how it is you’re here.”

  “I’ll tell you how I came to be here. But first I have a message from my sister. Reva said to give you her love and her promise that she would be visiting soon. She also told me to tell you that for someone who’d never had an adventure, you did it amazingly well the first time.”

  Ceressa laughed. “I made a complete mess of things. Oh, my, I still think I’m dreaming.”