by Phoebe Conn
Considering Julian’s melodramatic appeal absurd, Eden nevertheless chose to humor the man and obediently climbed up on her bed. She placed a pillow at her back, and crossed her ankles to get comfortable. “There, I’m in bed.”
Julian read the defiant gleam in her golden eyes correctly. “You’ll not get up when I leave either because I’m going to tell your father, as well as Yadira and Rebecca, that you’re not to tend the men. Providing their care is simply too strenuous and you’re not to do so much as read to them let alone change bandages or lift them to help them eat and drink. Is that understood?”
Eden continued to regard the surly physician with a level stare. “I’ll not be treated as though I’m an invalid too.”
“Has your back been bothering you?”
Eden shrugged. “Isn’t that to be expected?”
“No it isn’t. If the ache becomes a steady throb, and then cramplike pains, it means you’re in labor. I should probably leave some chloroform here for you now just in case you deliver the child while I’m away. Yadira tells me she’s served as a midwife, and Rebecca has assisted me.”
Without realizing it, Julian had finally frightened Eden sufficiently to cause her to remain in bed because the prospect of having Yadira deliver her child was an extremely repugnant one. “I’m sure there will be time to call you.”
“And if I’m away on an emergency? No, it’s not too soon to begin preparing for the birth. I hope to be here, but if I’m not, Yadira and my sister will take good care of you.”
“Maybe Raven will be back by then,” Eden mused aloud.
“He expects the babe to be born around the first of May, not this week.”
“It won’t be born this week,” Eden insisted stubbornly, but she had known before Julian began to scold her that she had not been getting nearly enough rest. And her back did ache, almost constantly, but she had thought that was because she had been doing too much, not because the baby was in danger of being born early.
Julian considered Eden’s preoccupied frown a positive sign she had finally taken his warning seriously and reached out to pat her hand. “Amy and the other maids can take turns caring for the men. They were born free, and I’m certain none is worried they’ll end up slaves by caring for Confederate wounded when, by all reports, your side is losing the War.”
“You certainly have a way with words, Dr. Ryan.”
Not understanding the subtlety of her sarcasm, Julian blushed slightly as though that had been a compliment and left her room to finish seeing his other patients.
A man of his word, before Julian left the house the next morning he gave Yadira a bottle of chloroform. “I fully expect to be the one to deliver Eden’s babe, but as a precaution, I want you to have the means to ease her pain should that not be the case. You need give her only a few whiffs in the beginning. You don’t want to render her unconscious until the birth is imminent.”
“I understand.” Her interest in Eden’s comfort minimal, Yadira set the bottle aside. “She appears rather fragile. It is probably a good thing you put her to bed.”
“Oh yes, it certainly is. I would hate for Alex’s child to be lost.”
“Alex’s child?”
Julian realized his mistake instantly, but saw no harm in revealing the truth to Yadira. “Yes. Raven wants it kept a secret, but Alex was Eden’s first husband, and the babe is Alex’s, not Raven’s.”
The housekeeper accepted that chilling news with outward composure, but inwardly she felt as though her heart had just been ripped to jagged bits. “I had no idea,” she said calmly. “Eden always seemed so devoted to Raven.”
Julian regarded the dark-eyed beauty with a sly smile. “Well, I’m sure she is, but as you well know, things are not always what they seem.”
Yadira’s placid expression remained unchanged until Julian had departed, then she went to her room and gave vent to the furious rage his confidence had inspired. “The slut!” she snarled as she twisted her pillow until the fabric ripped and a flurry of goose down billowed around her. That in one summer Eden had gone from being Alex’s wife to Raven’s, apparently without a moment’s pause to mourn her first husband’s passing, was the most hideous crime she could imagine. Obviously the girl had married Alex for his money, undoubtedly hastened his death with her ardor, and then wed his heir to secure her position as Lady Clairbourne.
“The bitch should have been buried with Alex!” She remembered the chloroform then, and hurriedly went to fetch it. Julian feared a premature birth, and Yadira was certain if that occurred, and Eden failed to survive, no one would suspect her of murder. She began to scheme with a triumphant smile, thinking it could all be arranged so easily On Julian’s next visit, she would ask him for powders to help her rest, and she was certain he would give her enough to put his mousey sister and the ailing men to sleep.
There were several possibilities then, but wanting the joy of raising Alex’s babe herself, she decided upon the one that would ensure the dear child’s safety while at the same time allowing her to put a quick end to his mother. It was too risky a plan to implement as yet, however. The baby would be stronger at eight months than seven and she was doing this for him.
A wicked smile graced her lips as she climbed the back stairs and walked toward Eden’s room. She had been too stunned by Alex’s death to welcome the girl to his home properly, but now, she was determined they would become the best of friends. Yes, Eden was going to trust her with her life, and that would be the frail blonde’s last mistake.
In his first days at sea, Raven poured all of his energy into familiarizing himself with the Southern Knight so he could command her with the same confidence he had shown on board the Jamaican Wind. He found that chief engineer Douglas Owen, a man in his late thirties, knew how to coax the maximum performance from the ship’s two engines. Confident they had the speed to outrun the larger, heavier Union warships, and keeping out of the range of the swifter blockaders, Raven set a course for the east coast of America, where their presence would be most likely to discourage whatever shipping continued under the United States’ flag. Nathan had told him that at the end of the month they were to rendezvous with another Confederate ship off the coast of Norfolk to receive new orders, and he wanted to make certain they had accomplished all they could by then. Despite his preoccupation with his task, Raven never once forgot the forlorn expression Eden had worn when he had kissed her goodbye. While he had not walked out on her in the midst of a fight as he had so often in the past, he could not shake the uncomfortable sensation that somehow he was guilty of deserting her. He could not have refused to take her father’s place and kept her respect, and indeed, he had not even considered that option when he had learned how serious Nathan’s injury was. He had wanted to help, and he knew Eden must have wanted him to make exactly the choice he had, but he could not believe how stupid he had been to have mentioned Alex as the reason why. He had let his jealousy over the love he knew Eden still felt for her first husband erupt into a spiteful comment that had hurt her. That he had left without apologizing for his thoughtlessness had only compounded the error.
As Raven lay in his bunk each night, missing Eden terribly, he reminisced about each minute they had spent together. Gradually he began to understand how complex their problems truly were. Eden’s devotion to Alex was only one aspect of them. There was also the sorry fact that he had never revealed the truth about himself. He had made the mistake of waiting, and not at all patiently, for Eden to fall in love with him, when everything she believed about his background was a lie.
He knew then that he could no longer wait indefinitely for her to fall in love with him and then confess the truth. She would only feel betrayed then. No, he would have to tell her the truth as soon as he returned home. All he could do was hope that someday she could love him in spite of the fact that he and Alex had not really been kin, rather than despise him for keeping that secret so long.
Michael Devane had had to swallow most of his pride to a
sk Raven to command the Southern Knight, but when he saw how hard the young earl worked at being the ship’s captain, his resentment gradually became grudging respect. Within a week Raven could not only call each member of the crew by name, but knew which were the most dependable, and which the slackers, and he tempered his comments accordingly.
When Raven had come on board, the crew had been discouraged not only by their close call in Havana, but also by the relentlessly depressing news they had received of the South’s losses. Raven made no reference to the conflict between the North and South, however. He stressed only the professionalism he expected his crew to display, and following his example, they all began to regain their badly damaged pride.
By late March of 1864, the morale of the crew of the Southern Knight was at an all-time high, and Raven was as eager as the rest of them to continue their destruction of United States shipping. President Lincoln had promoted Ulysses S. Grant to the rank of lieutenant general and given him command of all the Union armies, but the men on board the Southern Knight neither knew, nor cared.
When they sighted a schooner flying the Stars and Stripes off the New Jersey coast, Raven announced that he intended to be among the boarding party. “But how can you?” Michael argued. “Captain Sinclair’s uniforms fit you well enough, but as soon as you open your mouth, they’ll know you’re British.”
Raven regarded his executive officer with a slow smile. “On the contrary, they will believe me to be Captain Nathan Sinclair,” he responded in a perfect imitation of the Virginian’s gentlemanly drawl. “I meant what I said my first day as captain of the Southern Knight. I’m taking Nathan’s place, and even in the unlikely event that we’re all taken prisoner, no one will ever learn I’m not he.”
Michael shrugged helplessly. “You sound just like him.”
Not needing the lieutenant’s approval, Raven turned back to observe the schooner. He had announced to the crew that he would not sink any ships nor take prisoners, but that he had come up with an idea he thought would be equally effective in discouraging the merchant trade. Predictably, the schooner surrendered without putting up any resistance and Raven went on board as planned.
“This is a fine ship,” he complimented the captain in the dulcet tones of a Southerner. “I’m going to give you a choice. We’ll take you and your crew prisoner and scuttle her, or if you give me your solemn promise you’ll not sail her again until the War’s end, you may dump your cargo overboard and return to port.”
Astonished the captain of a Confederate raider had offered him a way to save his ship, the captain of the schooner had the hold emptied within an hour. Raven stepped close and lowered his voice to a threatening whisper before bidding the grateful man farewell. “This is a favor I’ll not repeat,” he warned. “You understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir, that I do.”
Raven stared at the now quivering man, certain his imagination was providing far worse punishments than he would ever inflict. He was confident that the fact the ship had lost what was undoubtedly a valuable cargo would be enough to discourage the owners from attempting another voyage to Europe anytime soon. With one last evil grin, he and his boarding party returned to the Southern Knight, where they were heartily cheered.
The next day they repeated their success by capturing a bark in the morning and a brig in the afternoon. By the time a dozen ships had been forced to dispose of their cargoes and return to port, Raven decided they had pushed their luck far enough. Certain the Union must already have warships out searching for them, he had no intention of allowing the Southern Knight to be found, and he set a course toward Virginia, where they were to receive their new orders.
Shortly before dawn on the appointed day, a sloop appeared out of the mist and Raven waited at the rail as a messenger came aboard the Southern Knight. He did not like bringing the ship so close to shore and had no intention of extending their stay beyond the few minutes it would require to read and acknowledge the receipt of whatever the new mission might be. When the cloaked messenger came toward him, then drew back, he greeted him impatiently.
“I’m Captain Sinclair. If you have papers to give me, then hurry up about it.”
While Sarah could make out the silhouette of a man of Nathan’s height, the timber of his voice wasn’t right and she wasn’t fooled. “You are most certainly not my husband, and I’ll speak with no one else.”
Raven stepped forward then, and dropped the Southern accent. “Sarah? Is that you?”
Sarah could see him clearly then, but that a total stranger knew her name frightened her, and thinking she had stumbled into a trap of some kind, she turned to flee. When she slammed into Michael Devane, who had stepped up behind her, she cried out and then, recognizing him, demanded an explanation.
Michael looked to Raven. “I didn’t know it would be her. I swear I didn’t.” “What’s going on?” Sarah asked again. “Where’s my husband?”
Raven took the precaution of searching the mists for signs of another ship and, seeing none, gave Michael a terse order. “I’ll need no more than five minutes with Mrs. Sinclair. Tell Mr. Owen to be ready to give us all the speed he can when I give the order.” Raven reached out for Sarah’s arm then and hurried her back to his cabin.
Raven scarcely knew where to begin but decided he should attend to business first. “You do have the new orders, don’t you? I think I should read them first”
“Well I don’t, not until you tell me just who you are and where Nathan is.”
Raven inclined his head in a mock bow. Sarah had thrown back the hood of her cloak and he found her resemblance to her daughter striking. Not only were their features nearly identical, but Sarah also had the same honey blond hair. Her eyes were different, though. They were a cool, bright green rather than golden-brown.
“If you insist. I’m Raven Blade, your son-in-law. Your husband is recuperating from an injury he sustained last month. Both he and Eden are at my plantation on Jamaica.”
Sickened by that distressing news, Sarah sank into the closest chair. “How badly was he hurt?”
“He should be completely recovered in just a few weeks.” Raven could readily understand Sarah’s concern for her husband, but that she seemed not to care that he was Eden’s husband both confused and hurt him. She was holding a leather pouch, and assuming it contained his orders, he reached for it. “May I?”
“Yes, of course.”
Raven found an unmarked envelope inside. He tore it open and scanned the contents. The Southern Knight was to proceed at once to California and continue their mission of disrupting shipping on the Pacific Coast. That was most definitely not a voyage he would undertake in Nathan’s place and he shoved the brief message in his pocket.
“We’ve got to be under way before sunrise. Come on. You’ll have to leave.”
Sarah looked up at the dark-eyed young man. Other than her own dear Nathan, he was easily the handsomest man she had ever met. “You’ll be returning to Jamaica soon, won’t you? I want to go with you.”
Before Raven could reply, Michael came to the door. “There’s a ship approaching and I have little hope it’s one of ours. You’ll have to leave now,” he urged Sarah.
“Oh no, I’m going to stay,” the determined woman replied.
“That’s not a good idea,” Raven declared, and again taking his mother-in-law’s arm, he escorted her up on deck. The mist now only partially hid their identity. They could make out a steamship approaching and knew they had been seen. Before he could stop her, Sarah waved to the men in the sloop and they pulled away, heading for shore without her.
The steamer hailed them then. “What steamer is that?”
“I want full speed now,” Raven ordered, and as Michael conveyed that message to the engineer, he responded to the call to identify the ship himself.
“This is Her Majesty’s ship Princess Royal. What steamer is that?”
“The Sarah asked in a hushed whisper.Princess Royal?”
“
A Raven responded with a sly wink.ruse de guerre,”
“This is the United States steamer” The name was lost when the engines of the Southern Knight came to life and the whole ship shuddered as the twin propellers began to turn. Raven then sent men into the rigging to unfurl the sails to give them additional speed. The Union ship overtook them, however, before the Southern Knight could gain sufficient speed to draw away.
Raven had been hoping to avoid firing on a Union vessel, but now he had absolutely no choice and they managed to get off the first round of cannon fire. The volley hit the steamer broadside and echoed with a hollow ring that loudly proclaimed the ship was built of iron. He had no time to argue with Sarah as a hail of rifle fire came their way, but she did not need to be told to get below deck and ran back to his cabin of her own accord.
Raven knew none of the crew would accuse him of cowardice for attempting to outrun a heavily armed iron ship rather than coming about to fight. Luck was with them, and as they gathered speed, the mist thickened into a blanket of fog that veiled their retreat. The Union vessel doggedly pursued them but the Confederate raider had been built for speed and the Yankees had no opportunity to use their cannon. With Raven changing their course repeatedly, they soon escaped unscathed into the open sea.
After ascertaining there had been no wounded, Raven congratulated his crew for their fine work. He then wiped his brow on his sleeve and returned to his cabin. As he came through the door, Sarah looked up at him, her glance filled with the curiosity he had expected her to show earlier.
“As I said, I’m Eden’s husband and I think it’s a good thing we’re bound for Jamaica as it may take me until we get there to tell you our story.”
Sarah sighed with relief. “I really didn’t plan this. I had hoped only to see Nathan for a few minutes. That was all.”
