by Jo Goodman
Mary was backed into the cottage. As soon as the sergeant passed her, she shut the door. "I don't understand what yer lookin' for," she said again, raising her voice a notch so that Jessa would hear her. "My mistress won't be pleased about yer intrudin' on 'er."
The sergeant paused in his survey of the room and sidled over to the hearth where the stew was simmering. He breathed the aroma deeply and warmed his hands over the kettle. "Your mistress?" he inquired. "I thought you were alone."
"I never said I was, did I? And ye didn't ask me."
He turned away from the fire and glanced about the cottage again. Everything was neatly ordered and painstakingly cleaned, yet it wasn't the home of someone who kept a servant. The dishes set above the rough stone chimneypiece were chipped and mismatched. The curtains in the window were frayed at the edges and permanently yellowed from the smoke that escaped the hearth. The table was scarred and the chairs each bore signs of mending. "Your mistress lives here?" he asked, skeptical.
Mary drew herself up and tapped one foot impatiently on the floor. "Of course she don't. I keep the place for 'er so she can use it upon occasion." She cast a significant glance at the closed door and lowered her voice. "If ye get my meanin'."
The sergeant frowned and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. So it was a trysting cottage. That did not bode well for him. "Who is your mistress?"
"I'm not likely to tell ye that, am I? She'd toss me out on me ear. This is a secret place for 'er. I don't want 'er name on the lips of gossips."
He studied the door for a moment. "She's not alone now, I take it."
"That's not for me to say," Mary said, not giving an inch. She watched the sergeant squirm uncomfortably and bit back a smile. She could well imagine what was going on in his mind and she enjoyed his struggle. He was trying to decide whether to believe her. She kept her face carefully blank as he turned toward her and studied her features, searching for some sign that she was lying.
"I think I'll search the loft," he said finally.
"Fine. Yer welcome to it. Mind the ladder. It's not used to bearin' much weight." The sergeant muttered something under his breath that Mary could not catch. She was not of mind to ask him to repeat it. She turned away and stirred the stew. He was back down the ladder in a few moments.
"I've decided to have a look in the other room," he said.
Mary shrugged. "That's up to you. Can't say I didn't warn ye. Work, though, it be 'ard to come by."
"I can't be concerned with your employment."
"I was thinkin' of yers," she said frankly. "My mistress, she's one to be reckoned with."
Sergeant White hesitated again. What if Mary Shaw were lying and there was no mistress? Could she be hiding the very highwaymen he sought? Worse, what if she were telling the truth and he confronted a lady of quality conducting her illicit affair? It would explain why the lady in question had not come out at the first sign of trouble. If there was a lady at all. "I have to see for myself," he said.
In the folds of her heavy skirt Mary's hands clenched. "As ye will," was all she said. Then she held her breath.
One of the sergeant's hands closed over the door handle. The other hovered over the pistol tucked in the waistband of his white woolen breeches. He braced himself for either eventuality and twisted the handle.
Sergeant White's hand fell away from his pistol as he confronted the scene in the bedchamber. In his mind he cursed the orders that had brought him here, then he cursed himself for not believing Mary Shaw. He attempted to retreat but it was as if his feet had taken root. Behind him, he heard Mary approach and still he couldn't move.
In the dim light which filtered in from the outer room, Sergeant White could make out the intimately coupled bodies. For a few moments the man and woman on the bed were oblivious to his intrusion. The man lay on his back beneath the woman. His eyes were closed. His skin was drawn tightly over the bones of his face. Perspiration glistened on his chest and the taut indrawn plane of his stomach. Above him the woman rocked, straddling his loins. Her head was thrown back, revealing the slender white stem of her neck. Her naked breasts, larger it seemed than her reed-thin body could support, quivered deliciously as she thrust herself over her lover. The curling ends of her long hair brushed the man's thighs.
Mary peeked around the sergeant's shoulder and gasped softly at the sight of Jessa and Noah McClellan apparently in the last moments of a deep passion. She was so shocked she nearly giggled. Instead she pressed her hand to her mouth and nudged the sergeant.
Jessa's head turned slowly, shaded in part by the long fall of her hair. The haughty, slightly cruel expression she wore was turned fully on the sergeant. She didn't have to say anything. Sergeant White backed out of the room so quickly that Mary narrowly missed being caught underfoot. The door shuddered as it was yanked shut.
Arms akimbo, Mary confronted the sergeant, "I warned ye. Never say I didn't. If ye ever breathe a word... a word, mind ye... she'll 'ave yer guts."
Sergeant White nodded slowly, still dazed by what he had witnessed. He hoped his coat hid the rock hard bulge in his breeches. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I'll take my leave, Miss Shaw. I'd be grateful if you didn't mention my name to her."
"Only if it don't mean losin' my position."
"Yes, well, I understand that... only..." His voice trailed off and he glanced at the closed door, his face pale. "If you could just make her understand I was following orders."
Mary was thoroughly enjoying the sergeant's squirming. "We'll see," she said noncommittally.
"Mary! Mary, come in here at once!"
Mary jerked her chin toward the door. "Ye'd better go. She's got 'er back up now. No sense in offendin' quality any more than ye already done." Mary tamped back her smile, realizing she could have saved her breath. As soon as he heard Jessa's demanding call the sergeant moved toward the door. He was outside before Mary finished speaking.
"Mary!"
"He's gone, Miss Jess," Mary called back, hurrying toward the bedroom. "They're all leaving. There's no need for that tone now." Mary pushed the door open. "Did ye 'ear? I said they're goin'."
Jessa had slipped back into her shift. She was standing beside the bed, leaning over Noah, as Mary swept into the room. She looked up, her eyes anguished. "Oh, Mary, I think I've hurt him."
Mary touched Noah's forehead with the back of her hand. "Aye, 'e's burnin' up. But it's nothin' you did to 'im. It's the fever. Davey 'as a bit o' liquor around 'ere. We'll give the guvnor 'ere an alcohol bath. That should cool 'im some."
Jessa bit her lip. "But his breathing is so shallow."
"'E's probably not used to be ridden like a stallion," Mary said bluntly.
Jessa's pale cheeks colored deeply. "But I didn't... not really... I wouldn't know how."
One of Mary's brows arched skeptically. "That isn't 'ow it looked to me and the sergeant." She turned away. "I'll get the alcohol."
Resting her hip on the edge of the bed, Jessa brushed back a damp lock of hair from Noah's temple. His face was unnaturally flushed and his breathing was harsh. "He's going to die, isn't he?" she asked when Mary returned.
"I can't say," said Mary. She sat on the opposite side of the bed, the shallow basin filled with alcohol in her lap. Wringing out a cloth, she folded it and gave it to Jessa. "Do 'is face and neck. I'll bathe 'is chest." The women worked in purposeful silence for a few minutes, intent on their task. "You've nothin' to be ashamed of," Mary said at last sparing a knowing glance at Jessa's taut features. "Ye did exactly what needed to be done. Ye certainly convinced the sergeant."
Jessa's hand stilled. "I still don't believe I did it," she said quietly. "I could hear everything you were saying to Sergeant White. I knew what you were implying." Her smile was chagrined. "I wanted to strangle you. If you had been near I think I might have."
"What was I supposed to tell 'im?" Matry asked defensively."'E wasn't about to be charmed, thickheaded oaf that 'e was. Anyway, my tale almost s
topped 'im from comin' in 'ere." She snapped her fingers."'E came that close to turnin' away. And ye should 'ave seen 'im fly out of 'ere! That wasn't 'is tail tucked between 'is legs, I can tell you!" She chuckled at her own ribald humor. "That man didn't know which way to turn after 'e saw you and Mr. McClellan 'ere."
"Don't remind me. I don't want to think about it."
"I was shocked meself," Mary persisted. "I never expected ye to give such a performance."
"Mary! Please!"
"Ow'd ye know to do such a thing?"
Jessa brushed Noah's upper lip with a less than gen de stroke. "I've seen things," she said a shade defiantly.
"'Ave you now?"
Jessa sighed, knowing Mary wouldn't let it rest until she heard the whole of it. "When I was twelve I saw the dairy maid and one of the grooms coupling that way in the stable. And no, it wasn't your Davey. And yes, I stayed hidden and watched. I know it was wicked, but I was... well, I was fascinated. I thought they were hurting one another at first, then later I realized they were enjoying it."
"Aye, there's pain and pleasure in the doin'."
"I wouldn't know about that," Jessa said primly. "I was only acting."
"Did ye get a rise out of the guvnor?" asked Mary baldly.
Jessa nearly brought the damp cloth to her own hot face. "No!" It wasn't precisely true. She remembered the tightening of Noah's loins as she straddled him, the imprint of his manhood against her inner thigh. The thin cloth of his cotton drawers was not much of a barrier. "No," she repeated. "He wasn't naked, you know."
"There's no need to fly off into the boughs. I told ye, ye did nothin' to be ashamed of. The soldiers won't be back and that's what we set out to accomplish. Sergeant White saw both you and Mr. McClellan, in the flesh as it were, and 'e's none the wiser. I'd say it all worked out for the best."
Jessa wasn't as certain but she said nothing. Mary would make light of her fears. "What about Mr. McClellan? What are we going to do for him?"
"We're doin' all we can now, Miss Jessa. And I've been givin' it some thought. If the guvnor takes another turn for the worse there's but one thing you can do. It would solve a great many problems."
"What's that?"
"Marry 'im."
Chapter 3
Noah knew that he was dying. Or rather he suspected it. To his way of thinking there could only be one reason a vicar was bending over him. Noah tried to cut through the heavy fog that enveloped him and tell this man of god he had no intention of dying. His jaw worked from side to side but he could not form the words. His eyes would not stay open. The words spoken over him were slurred and disagreeably guttural and he could not make them out. The vicar smelled strongly of spirits.
Another voice spoke, soft and lilting. Noah was struck by an odd sense of familiarity and he strained for recognition. It would not come and he felt himself being drawn against his will into an ever-widening darkness. He struggled to be released from it and was denied.
Some part of him sensed the vicar bending still closer, murmuring something that remained incomprehensible. I won't die, Noah told himself. I don't want to die. He forced his mouth to shape the words. "I do—" It came out on a single puff of air and Noah was satisfied that he was understood. He slipped into unconsciousness.
"There," interrupted Mary, smiling widely with satisfaction. "You 'eard 'im. I told you 'e wanted to marry 'er. We all 'eard 'im." She nudged her sister-in-law.
"I 'eard 'im," Sarah said quickly, taking Mary's cue. In her arms Gideon gurgled pleasantly. The dimples on either side of his cupid's mouth deepened.
The vicar straightened slowly, gripping one bedpost to right himself. His kind eyes were slightly glazed and the expression on his florid face was vague and bewildered. There was a momentary struggle for dignity but the effects of Mary's corn liquor proved to be more powerful. He glanced at Jessa, who was standing at the other side of the bed holding Noah's hand in hers. She did not meet his eyes but he was not sure if she was avoiding him or if he could not focus. "Very well," he sighed, closing his prayer book. "Then I pronounce you man and wife." He shook his head, trying to clear it. "Most irregular," he slurred.
Mary slipped her arm beneath the vicar's elbow, supporting him and at the same time ushering him out of the room. "It's legal though, ain't it?"
The vicar looked affronted. "Quite legal. The license was signed by the bishop and has been duly registered in the parish church." He opened his prayer book and removed a folded piece of paper. "Here. See for yourself. I no longer need it. Still, most irregular."
"That's neither 'ere nor there." Mary snatched the license before the vicar thought better of it and then helped him with his greatcoat and retrieved his knobby walking stick from the hook by the door. "Sarah will take you home in 'er wagon." Mary took Gideon from Sarah's arms and gave her sister-in-law a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank ye, Sarah," she whispered. "Ye've been a great 'elp."
Sarah looked doubtful. She threw her cloak over her thin shoulders and wrapped a scarf around the lower half of her face. Her large brown eyes spoke eloquently to Mary, clearly saying what she thought of the mad scheme. "I'll take 'im to the church and make sure the marriage's been registered like 'e says . Doubt 'e'll remember 'alf of it on the morrow." She sniffed. "Probably just as well."
Mary stood in the doorway, sheltering Gideon against the cold air, and waved them off. "What do ye think o' that, Master Gideon? 'Ave there ever been such goings on?" Gideon laughed as she stepped back in the cottage and tickled his chin. "Aye, there's no need to say it. I'm a quick-witted one. There's no denyin' it. Come on, let's see yer mama. She's no doubt wonderin' if she's done right by ye."
Jessa was sitting in the rocker which she had placed directly at Noah's side. She eagerly took Gideon from Mary's arms. The child squirmed playfully against her, tugging at the heavy braid that fell over her shoulder. He tried to stuff it in his mouth. "Oh, Mary, what have we done?"
"We found a way to get ye and the babe out of England," she said practically. "Ye know very well it was for Gideon."
"But the price, Mary? What of the price?" Jessa said. Gideon cried out as he was squeezed too tightly. Jessa relaxed her hold at once and absently removed her hair from his mouth. "If Mr. McClellan lives he will never forgive me," she said lowly. "If he dies, I shall never forgive myself."
* * *
Noah turned his cheek toward the coolness of the damp cloth. On his forehead he felt the whisper trail of three fingers brushing back a lock of hair. One corner of his mouth lifted in the beginnings of a sweet smile. The weights that seemed to press his eyelids in place were lifted. Noah opened his eyes slowly and focused on the shadowy face above him.
Her beautifully shaped mouth was slightly parted. Noah could see the tip of her pink tongue run across her teeth as she concentrated on her task. He was suddenly aware that he was the object of her concern. Noah thought he liked that very much. His eyes fastened on the coronet braid of her hair and the question he had asked himself on the coach was finally answered. It was the color of corn silk. Silken threads of yellow and white gold framed her face. It seemed so perfect for her that Noah wondered why he hadn't thought of it. His glance dropped to her darker brows, the fan of still darker lashes, and he understood how he had been misled to think she might be a brunette or even a redhead. Now he realized it wouldn't have suited her. Her hair was as soft and fine as a baby's. His fingers curled into the feather tick and he controlled the urge to touch her. It would startle her. She was so intense that she hadn't even noticed he was watching her. It was just as well. Noah thought that if she turned those pale gray eyes on him he could easily be lost in the misty void that had surrounded him for days.
Jessa pulled carefully at the bandage at Noah's side and replaced the poultice. She no longer had any faith in its efficacy but she didn't know what else to do. That he had survived these last seventy-two long hours seemed something of a miracle. Mary insisted it was the marriage ceremony that had brought him around. He had been clo
se to death before that. Jessa agreed there was probably some truth in Mary's statement. Secretly she thought Noah was making his slow recovery just for the opportunity to do murder.
"You have gentle hands."
Those gentle hands fell away from Noah so quickly they might have been scalded by his words. Jessa started to stand up but Noah caught her wrist. Demonstrating more strength than she would have credited, he held her fast. She sat down again.
"You've been taking care of me?" he asked. Lack of use had given his voice a husky timbre.
She nodded, avoiding his eyes. "I should get Mary." Jessa tried to pull away again but Noah wouldn't let her go.
"Who's Mary?"
"She's my friend. She's been helping me." With her free hand Jessa flicked a tendril of hair behind her ear. "You really shouldn't be doing so much talking," she said uneasily. Or holding me, she thought just as uneasily. "I think it would be better if you rested."
"That's all I've been doing," Noah objected. "How long have I been here?"
"A little more than six days." Her eyes dropped to his. His expression was thoughtful, not alarmed. "You don't seem surprised."
"Actually, I thought it had been a little longer. I remember a few things that marked the time."
"Remember?" She swallowed a gasp and schooled her features, trying not to look as panicked as she felt. "What do you remember?"
Noah wasn't going to share his erotic fantasies with her. They were embarrassingly detailed and not for repetition. At least not in the company of the woman who had figured so prominently in them. "Just people coming and going. I suppose it must have been you and Mary. Oh, and the vicar."
