This Rebel Heart

by Patricia Hagan

  "Arnhardt!" Joseph Bosworth's tight-set lips curved slightly into a pleased smile of recognition. "I've heard of you, sir. It's Captain Arnhardt, isn't it? And sometimes you are called Ironheart, because they say you rule your crew with a fist of iron and a heart to match. We heard you were lost at sea with your ship."

  He stepped from the boat with an outstretched hand, and, shaking Derek's warmly, he told his men to lay down their weapons. "We have nothing to fear." To Derek he said, "Neither do you, sir. It's a pleasure indeed to have a hand in rescuing a man of your worth, believe me. We are fishermen. We take no part in the war, but we're southern blood, and that is where our loyalties lie. If my pilot hadn't gotten himself saturated on rum he smuggled aboard and fallen asleep on duty, we wouldn't have gone off course. We sail in and out of Richmond, and here we are on the other side of the Gulf Stream on an uncharted island. Now I'm glad that we did, and I won't have that man keelhauled, because it was surely a stroke of fate that we happened this way and found you."

  "Thank you, sir," Derek murmured gratefully. Then, remembering Julie's presence, he nodded in her direction and made the necessary introductions.

  The men exchanged uncomfortable glances, and Julie felt her cheeks flaming. It was not hard to figure out why they were so embarrassed. Shipwrecked on an island for untold months, it was obvious what had transpired between them, especially since they stood there barely clothed in shreds and remnants of material.

  "We should get you on board at once." Mr. Bosworth extended his hand to Julie to lead her to the rowboat. "We'll get some good solid food into you, then we'll be on our way back to Richmond."

  It was Bradley Whitlock who asked, just before shoving the boat back into the surf, if there was anything on the island they wished to take with them to the Judy T. Derek glanced at Julie expectantly, but she lowered her eyes and shook her head. What she had left behind, she thought painfully, could not be brought with her, for she feared that she was leaving forever any love the two of them might have shared.

  Once aboard the fishing boat, they were introduced to the captain, a burly, potbellied man named Meade, with warm gray eyes and a friendly smile despite his authoritative air. He ordered food brought to them immediately, then he instructed one of his crew to bring them some clothes.

  "We'll have to dress you like a man for awhile, missy," he said jovially to Julie, and she smiled slightly, grateful for anything they would give her to wear.

  When they were fed and clothed, they went to the captain's cramped quarters. Julie lay her head on Derek's strong shoulder as they sat on the narrow wooden bunk, listening sleepily while he spoke with Captain Meade as the two shared a bottle of brandy.

  "I just can't believe what you're telling me." Julie snapped to alertness at the loud, stunned tone of Derek's voice. "It can't be nearly winter...."

  "Ahh, but it is." Captain Meade smiled sympathetically.

  "It seems the two of you were lost in another world, and you may wish before this dreadful war ends that you had stayed back there in your own private realm."

  Derek leaned forward, eager to hear all that Meade knew about the war.

  The captain packed his corncob pipe with tobacco, lit it, drew on it, exhaled, and then began to talk.

  He told them about a man named John S. Mosby who, with his Confederate partisan rangers, had attacked Fairfax Court House, Virginia on the night of March eighth, only a few miles from Washington, the Union capital. "The only thing they got," he chuckled, "was the garrison commander, General Edwin Stoughton, who was asleep when they went slipping in."

  But the humor left his voice as he told about how Federal cavalry under General George Stoneman had cut a swath of destruction through Virginia from April twenty-ninth to May eighth, almost to Richmond itself. "Stoneman being gone from the Army of the Potomac helped Lee win one of his biggest battles yet, though," the captain explained. 'You see, late in April, General Joe Hooker headed south toward Richmond with an army that they say numbered over a quarter of a million. He marched through a mass of thick woods and dense underbrush called The Wilderness, and Stonewall Jackson hit him with a surprise flank attack at a road junction called Chancellorsville. The fighting lasted for about three days, and it went all the way from Chancellorsville ten miles eastward toward Fredericksburg. Ol' Hooker lost almost twenty thousand of his soldiers, I hear tell."

  Suddenly his voice dropped, cracked, as though he were fighting for composure. In a whisper so low they had to strain to hear, Captain Meade said, "We lost Stonewall there. He was accidentally hit by one of his own men."

  "Stonewall Jackson!" Derek breathed reverently. "God, what a blow to the South...."

  "But Lee got started on a second invasion of the North." The captain slammed his fist on his desk. "He wanted to capture an important city in the North, like Baltimore or Harrisburg, or even Washington. The papers said if he could do that, it would relieve the pressure on Vicksburg, down in Mississippi, and we might negotiate a victorious peace. Then the South was also hoping that if we could win a great victory on northern soil, England might raise its eyebrows and offer to mediate.

  "Lee also wanted to get some of the fighting out of Virginia," the captain went on after pausing to draw on his pipe thoughtfully. "And the South needs supplies bad. So last June, Lee took his army and crossed the Potomac. Lincoln had replaced Hooker with a Pennsylvanian by the name of General George G. Meade."

  He chuckled bitterly. "I hope to God I'm not kin to that man somewhere back along the line. I hope not a drop of Yankee blood flows in these tired old veins of mine."

  Julie saw Derek smile politely, but could sense his anxiety to hear more about the war.

  "Well," Captain Meade went on, "by the end of June, the Yankees were moving north from Maryland into Pennsylvania, looking for Rebs, and the Rebs had turned south to look for supplies. They came together from opposite directions and collided at a place called Gettysburg, Pennsylvania."

  He shook his head sadly, stared at the crude wooden floor in desolation for a few moments, then said, "It was three days of hell, it was. Lee delivered one attack after another, but on the third day, a general named Pickett charged about fifteen thousand men across an open field, right against the center of the Yankee line. He failed, lost half his men, and the battle ended. The Yankees were credited with that one and ever since, the South's morale has been at its lowest ebb. It's like looking at the shoreline when the tide has gone out and wondering whether it's ever going to come back in. The sea returns, but will the South?"

  He looked at them wonderingly, as though they might be able to give him an answer, then shook his head once more in weary sadness. "Lee retreated to Virginia. Now they say both armies are sitting on opposite sides of the Rapidan River, each one waiting for the other to make the first move. I imagine they'll hole in for the winter, though we get news of a few cavalry engagements and some skirmishes among the infantry now and then, but nothing big."

  Derek sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, then spread his large hands helplessly and said, "So you're telling me, Captain Meade, that things don't look good for the South."

  "Yes, I guess I am. Like I said, morale is mighty low. The blockade is getting tighter too. One bright spot you might be interested in hearing about, though, is that the Confederates have built something they call a torpedo boat. It's a small vessel propelled by a steam engine. There's one called the David, and early this month it was in Charleston harbor and hit and damaged a blockading warship called the New Ironsides. They say she just drifts along the surface of the water and attacks enemy ships with a torpedo suspended from a long spar."

  Derek said nothing.

  The captain tapped his pipe into a cup on his desk, then began repacking it with fresh tobacco. Glancing sideways at Derek, he warily asked, "Don't that news get your ire up, sir? Doesn't that make you want to get back to Wilmington and start running that blasted blockade again?"

  Derek was silent for a long time, and Julie finally turned
her gaze upon him and saw that he had a strange look in his smoky eyes, as though he were deep in thought. Finally he murmured to no one in particular, "No, it doesn't make me want to go back to war. I'm beginning to wish we could have just stayed on that island, because it seems neither side will be satisfied until all of America is destroyed in body and in spirit."

  "Aye, it's easy to see how you feel." Captain Meade nodded with understanding. "I suppose you might call the Judy T my own little island. I take her out and catch fish to feed my family. My crew does the same. I'm an old man, Arnhardt, too old to do anything in this infernal war except get in the way. You'll notice my crewmen are on in years as well. Oh, a few of them did go off to fight. A few got killed. The others came back without an arm or a leg. So they joined me again, just wanting to be fishermen on the sea and pretend there isn't a war. I don't feel ashamed because I don't take part in it. I can't blame anybody wanting to escape the hell of it all."

  Glancing at Julie apologetically, he said, "You don't look none the worse for your stay on that island, young lady. I suppose you're wishing we'd just left you there, but then I suppose you've got family somewhere that have spent many hours grieving over you."

  "I have a brother in Libby prison in Richmond," she told him calmly. "As soon as we arrive, I plan to get him out of there, using whatever means is necessary."

  Derek shot her a warning look, and the Captain's bushy brows shot up in surprise, but she quietly continued in a very calm voice, explaining in complete detail why her mission was so important. "It is what I set out to do when I left my home in Savannah," she finished. "I won't rest until I know my brother is out of that dreadful place."

  "Well, you've got a right to want him out if he's innocent," the captain nodded briskly, "and even if he isn't, being your brother, I can see why you'd want him freed. I've heard terrible stories about the Black Hole and the atrocities there...."

  Suddenly Derek got to his feet. "If you'll show us where we can bed down, Captain, we'd be grateful. We're rather tired."

  Julie did not miss the way the old man's lips fought to suppress a knowing smile as he said the ship was, after all, small, and they were cramped for quarters. "I suppose since you two have shared an island for several months, you won't mind sharing a cabin for a few days."

  "I can sleep with the crew," Derek snapped, eyes sparkling as he moved toward the door. "Just tell me where I can take Julie so she can retire."

  The captain rose. "I suppose I'll have to let her have my cabin, Arnhardt. The men sleep in the hold on sling hammocks. I have no other cabins. I was prepared to put the two of you in here, but if you prefer—"

  "I do prefer," Derek said with finality.

  "Very well." Captain Meade went to the door, nodded in Julie's direction, and murmured that if he could be of further help, they should let him know.

  Julie choked out a hollow-sounding thank you, and once the door was closed behind the old man, she turned to Derek with tears stinging her eyes as she whispered in anguish, "I've never been so humiliated in my life. Every man on board this ship knows what must have gone on between us while we were on that island. How can I face them? How can I face anyone?"

  Giving her a look of exasperation, Derek sighed, "What difference does it make, Julie? Once we reach Richmond, you'll never see any of them again. Just be grateful that we've been rescued. Now you can try to do the same for your precious brother."

  She stared at him, stunned momentarily, then gasped, "Why, Derek, you sound jealous! Can't you see how much it means to me to have Myles out of that horrible place—"

  "Yes, yes, I've heard it all before," he said wearily, running his hands through his shoulder-length hair. "Look, we'll talk about all of this later. Right now I'm going to get a haircut and have a bath."

  Julie bit down on her lower lip thoughtfully. It seemed so strange, after all this time, for them to no longer be alone together, to be surrounded by other people. It was almost as though their island of paradise, the closeness they'd shared, had never really existed. Derek was different somehow. She could sense the change, and she did not like the bitterness she felt over this realization.

  He turned to go, but she ran to him, flinging her arms around him and pressing her face against his broad back. "Promise you won't leave me, Derek," she cried, squeezing him tightly, her body trembling. "You can't say that what we shared together meant nothing to you."

  Turning, he encircled her tiny waist with his large hands, dark eyes boring into hers for long, silent moments. Then he moved one hand upward, trailing it slowly across her breasts, touching the hollow in her throat, finally cupping her face and squeezing gently, possessively, "No, I can't say that what we shared meant nothing to me." His voice was husky yet tender. "But if you want to remain with me, Julie, then you have to go where I go and follow me."

  "And that means being your mistress—"

  He raised one eyebrow and gave her a crooked smile. "Yes, it means being my mistress. You're beautiful, desirable, and you bring me much pleasure. I'd miss you if we had to part, but it's up to you."

  Julie took a deep breath. Her heart was pounding. She did not want to lose him, and if it meant being his mistress, then so be it. But there had to be one concession on his part. "I'll go with you. I'll do anything you ask of me and be anything you want me to be. But help me free my brother. Then I will swear to you that I'm yours for as long as you want me."

  He seemed to peer into the most secret recesses of her soul. Here was a man she knew she would never be able to maneuver. To go with him, to belong to him, meant giving him not just her body, but her being, her life.

  She felt desire rising within her at just his nearness, the feel of his warm breath upon her face. Love? Passion? Which did she really feel? She could not even answer the questions her own heart was demanding of her. She knew only that when he was near, holding her so closely, there was no fear, not of war or man. Derek would always keep her from harm.

  Painful memories flashed before her eyes. With Derek she would be protected. Yet she knew that at that very moment he could crash the life from her body by merely lowering his fingers and tightening them about her throat. Gentle, soothing, tender, this giant of a man could also be brutal, cold, and savage. And he could move from one mood to another with a mere blink of an eye.

  * * *

  Finally, he said, "All right, Julie. I'll help you try to free Myles."

  "Derek, you won't regret it, I swear it," she responded joyously.

  He pressed a fingertip against her lips for silence, and she saw that his eyes were cold, ominous. When he spoke, his tone was frightening. "Heed me well, Julie. You've made me a promise, and I expect you to keep it. If you attempt to use me, to manipulate me, then God help you, because I won't take that from any woman—no matter how beautiful she may be... or how much pleasure her body gives me. That includes you."

  He stepped away from her, eyelids lowered as he regarded her with suspicion. "You belong to me now. We've sealed our agreement."

  He left the cabin, closing the door quietly behind him, and the sound seemed to punctuate the pronouncement of his warning.

  No, she felt no fear of any man or thing when Derek held her tightly in his powerful arms... no fear, that is, except of Derek himself.

  Chapter 20

  Julie stood silently beside Derek in the cold November wind, staring toward the large, white-walled three-story building a block away. Julie saw that the windows were barred and began counting the ones on the third floor. Fifteen. An equal number on the second floor. Only eight on the first level, with five doors at varying intervals. To the far right, a porch extended from one entrance. She assumed that would be the one they should enter to inquire if Myles was still there.

  She squeezed Derek's hand as she asked, "Can we go in there now? I can ask to speak to Thomas, and—"

  "Hell, no," he all but shouted, then lowered his voice as a few people walking by turned to stare curiously. "Can't you see all those guards
walking around? Those aren't tree branches they're carrying. Those are guns. And if we walk toward that door, they're going to start asking questions."

  "I have a right to ask to see my cousin."

  She felt as though her fingers were surely going to be crushed as he squeezed her hand angrily. "I told you I'd handle this. We aren't going to just walk in there. If Myles is in there, still alive, we've got to plan his escape. That's going to take help, and it's also going to take time. I've got to get some men together who are willing to help."

  "And where are you going to find them?"

  "Leave it to me. But we're going to need money. Any man who joins an escape attempt at that prison, or any prison, knows he's putting his life on the line. He's not going to do that for free. He's going to have a price, and it will be high."

  She was suddenly afraid. "We don't have any money! Captain Meade's wife had to give me this dress because there was no money to even buy clothes for us. And if he hadn't loaned you a bit, we'd be completely destitute."

  "Trust me," he said wearily, impatiently. He gave her a tug as he turned back the way they had come, along the docks. She did not move. He sighed. "Julie, come along now. We can't arouse suspicion, and some of those guards are starting to look this way."

  She was about to let him lead her away, but just then she glimpsed the face of a prisoner at one of the windows on the third floor, peering out through the bars. From where they stood, she could not make out his features, but still her heart leaped with what she knew was only foolish hope. "There's one of the prisoners," she cried, pointing. "It could be Myles, or he might know Myles—"

  Then her hand flew to her mouth in horror as one of the guards spotted the prisoner, quickly pointed his rifle, and began firing. Julie screamed, and Derek quickly put his arms about her to lead her away. She was stumbling, shuddering with terror. "Dammit, you listen to me." He shook her hard, guiding her as fast as he could. "He probably didn't hit that prisoner. I've heard the guards take pot shots when one of the Yankees looks out. Sometimes they get killed, but not often. And if Myles is still alive, he's learned by now not to go looking out windows, or he wouldn't be alive. Do you understand what I'm saying?"