In a Pirate's Arms

by Kruger, Mary

  Rebecca stood by her bedroom window, looking out at the activity on the street. An eerie calm had descended over Washington City, as if everyone were holding their breath. Yesterday many people, including Amelia, had been evacuated, heading for safety in the surrounding countryside, but as yet the government was standing firm. There was little to do now but wait for word. There was little she could do, but to wait for Marcus.

  Biting her lips, Rebecca turned from the window and left her room. Since the news had come yesterday of the possible invasion, Father had left his study only once, and that, to her surprise, had been to go into the town. He had returned home as surly and uncommunicative as ever. Not a word to her, of reassurance, of instruction, and she could bear it no longer. Hesitating just a moment, she knocked firmly on the door of his study and went in.

  Ezra looked up as she came in, his eyes flat. “Well? What is it, girl?”

  “What do you think we should do?” she asked, as direct as him. “If we’re to leave I’ll have to see to the packing.”

  “We’ll not leave,” he said, and bent his head to his papers again.

  “But if the British get past our defenses and invade—”

  “They won’t harm us. We’ve their word that no civilian will be hurt.”

  “This is war, Father. Who knows what will happen?”

  “They won’t harm me!” he roared. “Haven’t I supported them all this time? They will not hurt their friends.” Oddly, he smiled. “What they will do is help.”

  Rebecca frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “It matters not. Now.” He placed his hands flat on the desktop. “We will not leave, and that is all I have to say on the matter, girl. Besides, don’t you want to be here when your Mr. Brand comes?”

  “I rather hope he doesn’t.”

  “Oh? Having second thoughts, are you?”

  “No,” she said, firmly. Once having received her father’s approval, she wasn’t about to forfeit it. “But I fear for him if he does come here.”

  “If he doesn’t, he is a coward.”

  “He’s no coward,” she flared.

  “Then don’t fret.” He picked up his quill. “Go, girl, and leave me in peace. I’ve things to do.”

  She frowned, and then shrugged. He was as obstinate as ever. “One more thing. We may have to have the rat catcher in.”

  Ezra looked up, eyes glittering. “What is that to me?”

  “I just thought you should know. I heard some scratching sounds in the storeroom this morning.”

  “See to it, girl, and don’t bother me about it.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “Now, go,” he said, and she at last left the room.

  In the hallway Rebecca headed for the kitchen, and then turned on her heel, instead opening the front door and looking out. Prospect Street, on the hill above the merchant’s district, was usually quiet, but today there were more people on the street than usual. She hailed a man passing by, her neighbor, and he stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Any news?”

  “None.” He squinted up at her against the late afternoon sun. “None new, at least. If you listen to rumors the British have returned to their ships, or they’re almost to Bladensburg, or they’ve turned for Baltimore. No one seems to know.”

  Rebecca hugged herself, shivering, though the day was hot and sultry. “Is there any idea when we will know?”

  “Probably not until they’re on our doorsteps. As for me, I’m taking Charlotte and the children to her mother’s home in Rockville.”

  Rebecca nodded. “Father won’t leave.”

  The man glanced towards the house, and his face hardened. “No offense meant, Rebecca, but likely he’ll welcome them with open arms. You should have gone with your sister.”

  “I probably should have.” Rebecca sighed. And she might have, except that Marcus might come here yet. “Thank you, Mr. Harris. I won’t keep you.”

  “Good day to you. Keep safe,” he said, and turned away.

  Safe. Rebecca bit her lips. There was still time for her to go to safety in the country with Amelia. What of her father, though? And what of Marcus, who would endanger himself should he come here? She glanced down the street, to see a man just reaching the crest of the hill. He looked familiar, though he was still too distant for her to see clearly. Most likely her imagination was at work, because she so wanted to see him. Still, she went down the stairs, standing on the brick walk and shading her eyes, and then beginning to walk towards him. And then running. It was Marcus. She knew his walk, his build, the angle of his head. It was him. “Marcus!” she cried, and threw herself into his arms.

  “My leannan.” He tightened his grip, and then pushed her a little away. “You’re well? Safe? All I heard in Alexandria was talk of invasion.”

  “Yes, ‘tis all we talk of, too. Oh, Marcus!” She peered up at him. “Should you be here? Is it safe for you?”

  “Yes, why wouldn’t it be?” He released her and took her arm. “But I’m not letting you stay here.”

  “I’m quite safe. But what if they capture you, Marcus? You’ll be a prize for them.”

  “What, for smuggling? They’ve no proof.”

  “Would they need proof in wartime?”

  “And as for privateering, it’s legal, lass.”

  “Marcus.” She turned, gripping his hands. “What if they find out about the Raven?”

  “They won’t, lass.” His hold was reassuring. “How will they? They’ve had years to find me out, and they haven’t.”

  Rebecca glanced up at her house. The windows stood open, and though they had kept their voices low, Father might have heard. “We mustn’t talk of this here,” she said, leading him towards the front stairs. “But you must promise me, Marcus, that if they invade, you’ll leave.”

  “I’d never be such a coward.” He followed her inside, to the paneled hallway. “Did your father know I was coming?”

  “Yes, I told him yesterday you might be here today. Marcus, won’t you reconsider—”

  “No, not without you.”

  She hesitated, hand raised to knock on the door of her father’s study. “Very well.”

  “Rebecca.” He gripped her shoulders. “Are you saying you’ll come with me at last?” he said, his voice low.

  “Yes.” She reached up to give him a quick kiss. “I won’t let you leave me again.”

  “Good.” There was a decided gleam in his eyes as he reached for her, but she eluded his hands, smiling.

  “Not here,” she whispered, pointing towards the study door. “Not now.”

  “Later?” he whispered back. “Mayhaps out in the arbor.”

  Her cheeks turned pink, and her hand fluttered to her stomach. Now was not the time to tell him, though. “Let me tell Father you’re here. Father?” She knocked on the door. “Mr. Brand is here.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for, girl?” Ezra’s voice came from the room. “Bring him in.”

  Marcus looked at her with eyebrows raised. “You heard him,” she said as she opened the door. “Go in.”

  “Don’t fret, lass,” he said, his hand on her back as she entered the room. “I’m right behind you.”

  What happened next occurred so fast that Rebecca would never remember it clearly. She had only a moment to note that her father was standing behind the desk, grinning triumphantly, before the study door was suddenly slammed behind her. She whirled, and a hand grasped her arm, pulling her off balance and into the room, away from Marcus. At the same moment, two men jumped upon him, and though he had already reacted, dropping into a crouch and going for his knife, they had prepared the ambush well and had already brought up their muskets, clubbing him with the butts. She cried out, and the man that held her spun her around, so that she was held, hard, against his chest. Stunned, she raised dazed eyes to her captor’s face. Lieutenant Dee.

  His strange, dark eyes gleamed. “Welcome, Miss Talbot. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “But—” She looked in bewil
derment at Ezra. “Father? What—”

  “Be still, girl, and you won’t be hurt. Got him?” Ezra asked, leaning over the desk, and she saw that Marcus was down on the floor, very still. She cried out, and Dee’s grip on her tightened.

  “Got him,” one of the men answered, reaching down to haul Marcus to his feet. Blood trickled from his temple and his lips, and his face was dazed. When he saw her, though, he surged forward against his captors’ grasp. “Damn! Hold still,” the man said, and his partner clubbed Marcus with his musket.

  Again Rebecca cried out, bucking forward, and again Dee pulled her back. “I don’t think he’ll be giving you any problems,” he said, and at the sound of a clicking noise near her ear Rebecca looked up, to see a pistol leveled at her head. “Will you, boyo?”

  Marcus looked up, and in his eyes was such rage that Dee took a step back, dragging Rebecca with him. “Damn you, Jeremiah,” he growled. “You’re a rotten coward, hiding behind a woman. Let her go.”

  “Oh, no, boyo. That’s what you called me once. Do you remember?” He grinned, his breath foul on Rebecca’s neck. “Give it up. You’re caught.”

  “You did this, didn’t you?” Marcus snarled, glaring at Ezra. “This is your doing.”

  “So it is.” Ezra sat back in his chair. “I’ve waited a long time for this moment. Gentlemen.” His smile was smug. “I present to you Brendan Fitzpatrick. The Raven.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Rebecca pounded once more on her bedroom door with both fists, and then, letting them drop to her side, leaned her forehead against the door. It was no good. No one would come, no one would heed her calls. It was as it had been when first she had returned from the voyage on the Raven. She was a prisoner in her house, and her captor was her father.

  Oh, she should have expected this! Whirling around, she stalked to her window and looked down, coming again to the conclusion she had reached earlier: too far to jump, and too difficult to climb. To attempt to escape that way would only endanger her unborn child, and it wouldn’t help Marcus at all. Wherever he was.

  The events in Ezra’s study had happened so quickly, and so brutally, that she was still shaking from them. It wasn’t until the other two men—soldiers, working as spies, Ezra had announced with pride—had taken Marcus, wrists bound, from the room, that Dee had finally removed the pistol from her head and released her. Even now, though, sickeningly, she could still feel the imprint of him against her, and his unexpected arousal. She was in peril from Dee, but the greater danger was to Marcus. She wasn’t even certain he was still alive.

  At that thought she moaned and sank onto her knees, fist to her mouth. If he were dead, what would she do? He was her life, and she, so foolish, had sent him away, time and again. Now, when finally she was ready to commit to him, it was too late. He had been betrayed and captured, and was lost to her. And all because of her father.

  The key turned in the lock. She raised her head, wary, wondering what she could use as a weapon. She did not relax even when Ezra walked in, locking the door behind him. Her father, the man she had tried so hard to love, for whom she had given up all else, in hopes that someday he would return that love. Her father, her betrayer. “Go away,” she said, averting her head.

  “That’s no way to speak to me,” Ezra said, sounding more genial than he had in many a day. “Look at me, girl.”

  Rebecca’s hands clenched into fists. “I do not want to look at you.”

  “You will. When you are over your sulk. Ah, but that feels good.” Ezra sank into the chair. “It has been a long day, but profitable.”

  Rebecca knelt where she was, hands on her knees, staring stonily ahead. “You lied to me.”

  “Lied? When did I do that?”

  “Saying you approved of my marriage. It was all a ruse, wasn’t it? To get Marcus here.” She looked up at him at last, searching his face in bewilderment. “Why? Why did you do it?”

  Ezra leaned back, hands clasped on his stomach. “I told him he’d pay. Took three years, but he has.”

  “Revenge?” Her voice rose. “You’ve done this for revenge?”

  “That, and other reasons.”

  “But he isn’t who you think—”

  “Spare me that, Rebecca,” he said, dryly. “I am not stupid. I admit I should have recognized him straight off, but I didn’t. It was the lack of the eyepatch, I expect. Clever move on his part, that. No, he had me fooled. Until he dared to interfere with my chastising you.”

  “What? When was that?”

  “You do not remember? I was going to punish you, as you deserved, and he dared to stop me. Just as he did on that cursed ship of his.”

  Rebecca gazed blankly ahead, dimly remembering a night when Marcus had protected her from Ezra’s wrath by preventing him from striking her. Yes, and he’d done so aboard the Raven, too. But surely that wasn’t enough. “But, Father, that’s not proof—”

  “Do you think I’m stupid, girl? Of course it isn’t. I bided my time,” he went on, with quiet relish. “Asked questions of the right people, and found out that your Marcus Brand tended to disappear, just at the time when the Raven was roaming the sea. And I figured out from things that were said that there never was a battle at sea where the Raven was captured. It was all a lie, but I,” he pointed to himself, face smug, “saw through it. You figure it out, girl.”

  Rebecca bit her lips. It did come together, and it didn’t matter if the theory were thin of proof. Marcus was the Raven, and if the British troubled themselves, they’d find men a-plenty to testify to it. “You’re overlooking one thing, Father,” she said at last, glaring defiantly at him. “The British have no right to take him prisoner.”

  “Yet. And he is not their prisoner.” His mouth stretched wide in a cruel smile. “He is mine.”

  “Where?”

  “In the strongroom in the cellar, girl, where else? There he’ll stay until the British take over. And what do you think those rats were you heard? The soldiers were hidden there, until Fitzpatrick returned.”

  “Brand,” she said automatically. “Fitzpatrick isn’t his real name.”

  “It matters not what his name is.” Ezra rose. “He is the Raven, and he will hang for it.”

  “Damn you.” Her voice was low. “I will never forgive you for this.”

  Surprisingly, Ezra let out a booming laugh. “As if that matters to me! Get up, girl. High time you fixed supper.”

  “I will not.”

  “Then you will starve, and so will your Mr. Brand.”

  Rebecca’s legs were stiff as she got to her feet. “Aren’t you afraid of what I’ll do?”

  His grin stretched broader. “Afraid? No. If you do anything to ruin this for me, Brand will suffer. You may depend upon that.” He stopped, staring at her from under her brows. “You will behave, will you not?”

  “Yes, Father,” Rebecca said, finally, lowering her head so that he wouldn’t see her expression. This was not the end of it. There had to be a way to set Marcus free, a way they could both escape. She would find it, she vowed. She had to. Because if she didn’t, Marcus would die.

  Ezra went down the stairs with a lighter tread than he’d used in years. Entering his study, he saw Dee sitting behind his desk, booted feet propped up on the mahogany surface and a cheroot in his mouth. “Shouldn’t you be guarding our guest?” he said, arms akimbo, looking pointedly at Dee’s boots.

  Dee blew out a stream of smoke. “He won’t escape. Clever of you to have the strongroom built. I trust you have just the one key?”

  “You have it.” But he wasn’t about to hand total control of the Raven over to Dee. No, Ezra had a score to settle with that blackguard, not the least of which was the seduction of his daughter.

  “I’ve been looking at your plan, here.” Dee leaned forward to riffle some papers on the desk. Ezra tensed. When he’d left the study, his plan had been tucked away in a locked drawer. “Ambitious, wouldn’t you say?”

  “But not beyond reach.” Ezra sa
nk slowly into a chair, forgetting for the moment that he wasn’t the guest in this room. He had yet to discuss his plan with anyone; Dee was the perfect person to hear it first. “When your country wins this war you’ll need someone you can trust in place, and who better than one who knows the area?”

  “Who better, indeed.” Dee swung his legs off the desk, and rose. “I believe you are right. I’ve no doubt that Swift and Kelly are guarding our guest well, but I think I shall see to his care myself.” Executing a neat bow, he went out, leaving Ezra in the delusion that he was still in control of his house.

  Fool, Dee thought, striding down the hall and wrenching open the cellar door. Foolish of Talbot to be so trusting, to believe that the British would allow him any sort of authority when they did, at last, conquer this wild country. Not when Talbot had already proven himself to be a traitor. No, when he wrote his report about this glorious mission, he wouldn’t recommend Talbot for any commendation at all. As for Rebecca—Dee smiled, secretively. He expected little opposition from Talbot, but Rebecca might cause trouble. He rather hoped she would. He would very much enjoy subduing her.

  His bootheels clattered on the cellar stairs, and the two sentries snapped to attention. Good. They were good men, had to be to survive as secret agents in a hostile country, but they knew their better when they met him. From the first Dee had been in charge of this mission, one they thought was sanctioned by the government. It was he who had discovered the Raven’s whereabouts; he who had kept in touch with Talbot, a valuable ally; he who had made the plans and recruited these two. It was his mission, and when the time came, he’d not share the glory. “How is the prisoner?” he asked, curtly.

  “Quiet, sir,” Swift said, facing forward, posture stiff. “Not a sound out of him.”

  “Good.” Dee glanced in through the little barred window in the heavy iron door. Strange thing to find in a strongroom door, almost as if Talbot had considered using the room for a cell when he’d built it. In the shadows he could see the Raven sprawled on the dirt floor, and the sight aroused both satisfaction and annoyance. The dreaded Raven wasn’t so mighty, after all. “It’s time I interviewed him,” he said, taking the key from his pocket. “Have you supped?”