Velvet Chains (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  "I apologize for my ungentlemanly behavior, my lady, but, you see, I knew of no other way to convince you to accept my hospitality." The deep raspy voice brought back Season's memory.

  "Who are you, and what do you want with me?" she blurted out. Her thoughts seemed to be tumbling over one another. If this man hadn't meant to rob her, what was he after? She strained her eyes in the darkness, trying to see the man's face, but she could see only black on black.

  "Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier, my lady. I am known both far and wide as The Raven. I doubt that you have heard of me, since you have so recently landed on our shores," he drawled.

  Season drew in her breath as a new fear replaced the old one. God in heaven, she had been captured by the same man General Clinton and Colonel Tibbs had been discussing this very evening! A shudder racked her body, and Season cringed in the corner of her seat, getting as far away from the man's menacing presence as she possibly could.

  "If it's information you want from me, I know nothing about our defenses. Even if I were privy to that information, I would never tell you."

  "Nay, my lady, I do not ask you to betray your fellow countrymen. Instead, you will be the instrument that I will use to save one of mine."

  "I don't understand. How could I possibly be of help to you?"

  Again Season heard the sinister laughter that played on her already overwrought nerve ends.

  "You have nothing to fear from me, my lady. Just do as you are told and no harm will befall you."

  "If it's riches you are after, my father will pay handsomely for my release," she offered.

  "Remain silent!" The husky command came from somewhere among the dark shadows.

  "No, not until you tell me where you are taking me," she demanded.

  "I'm warning you, my lady. Do not push me past my limit," he snapped.

  Season swallowed convulsively and then cringed when The Raven propped his black-booted foot up on the seat beside her. But as he leaned back in a relaxed position, Season's anger overruled her fear. How dare this man come into her bedroom and take her away by force. He was nothing more than a barbaric pirate while she was the daughter of the Duke of Chatsworth. Propelling herself across the seat, she threw her weight against him and began to pound her fists against his chest.

  His amused laughter made her angrier still. He caught her flying hands and held them firmly against his chest. Lifting her up as if she weighed nothing, he pulled her across his lap. She was pinned so tightly against his chest that she could scarcely move.

  "What a spirited little wildcat you are," he whispered against her ear. "Do not force me to clip your claws, my lady; I can assure you, you may not like my method."

  Feelings not unlike those of fear tightened Season's stomach muscles. "You are a brute!" she said, trying to free her hands.

  "How do you like your men, my lady? Weak and fawning, or strong and masterful?" he asked insultingly. "If you prefer weak and fawning, you will have to look for your pleasure elsewhere."

  "How dare you speak to me thus, sir. I am not one of the tavern wenches to which you are most probably accustomed. My father will kill you for this!"

  Again Season heard the laughter that was beginning to tell on her nerves. "We are in agreement that you are nothing like a tavern wench. However, as to your father, he is a long way from here, my lady. I have it on good authority that he sent you to America for a speedy marriage to curb your . . . appetites."

  Suddenly all the life seemed to go out of Season. She wondered how it was possible that this man knew so much about her. General Clinton had said The Raven seemed to know everything that was going on, and she was beginning to believe that.

  "But for men, I wouldn't be in the position I now find myself," she said, with more spirit than she felt. "I hate all men!" she declared, burying her face against the dark folds of his cape. She was too tired and weary to care if he ravished her on the spot.

  "From what is said about you, my lady, the opposite is true."

  "Why should I care what you think?" she said, closing her eyes. The rocking motion of the coach and the warm, hard body she was held against soon lulled Season into an exhausted sleep.

  The Raven stared into the darkness. He did not like the part he was playing that night. It went against his instincts to mistreat a woman—even if she were a worthless bit of baggage, as well as the enemy. The price for just one of her gowns would probably feed Washington's army for a whole month, he thought bitterly. He closed his eyes, trying not to think about the soft body that rested against him. That was difficult to do for he readily admitted to himself that he admired the lady's spirit and he reluctantly admitted that he admired her beautiful face and body.

  Again he reminded himself that the woman he held in his arms was the enemy. He didn't have the time or the inclination to cater to her whims.

  His only purpose in taking her captive was to use her to bargain for his Uncle Silas' life. Just this evening he had learned that the British had taken his uncle prisoner. If they harmed him, this lady might well pay with her life! The two countries were at war, and he couldn't allow himself to be soft just because this enemy was a woman. All he could allow himself to think about at the moment was his uncle who was locked away in some dank cell and was probably being tortured by the British to make him talk. The Raven knew his uncle would never succumb. Silas Dunsberry would die before he would betray either his nephew or the cause.

  As the coach passed a tavern, The Raven looked down and watched the lights from the establishment flicker across Lady Season Chatsworth's face. He could observe her to the fullest since she was asleep. Yes, she is beautiful, he thought. But he had long ago learned that beauty could be very superficial, as he suspected it was in her case. He pulled his cloak tighter about her, wondering why the lady's loose morals should bother him. Too many times he had enjoyed a loose-moraled woman.

  Why, he wondered, is there such an air of innocence about this particular woman? Probably that is part of her charm, he reasoned bitterly. The Raven had no intention of falling under this lady's spell. He did not wish to be one of the many who had bedded her. This was the first time The Raven had ever abducted a female, and doing so didn't sit well with him. If it weren't for his uncle's predicament, he would have sent her right back to Colonel Tibbs.

  Season awoke, slowly becoming aware that the swaying of the coach had stopped. Before she had time to reflect on where The Raven was taking her, she was pulled from the coach. The man took her hand and led her in the direction of the pounding waves that washed against the shore. She could just make out a small boat some distance ahead. She was cold and miserable, the wind off the ocean stung her cheeks, and the beach sand hurt her bare feet.

  Season stumbled. Immediately she was lifted into strong arms and carried to the waiting boat.

  "Please, I don't want to go with you," she pleaded, realizing her destination was to be the sea.

  "Remain silent," came the low hiss near her ear.

  The Raven placed her in the boat and climbed in beside her.

  As the small craft caught the waves, it rocked about drunkenly until the six men aboard plied their oars and propelled the boat forward.

  "You chose a fine night for your business, Captain, there be only a half-moon tonight. The British will never know we sailed in right under their noses," one of the crewmembers declared.

  "Hold your tongue," the dark captain ordered in a whisper. "You know sound carries on the water."

  Soon all that could be heard were oars slicing through the water and waves lapping at the small craft. It seemed to Season that they had been in the boat for hours; her body was numb and cold. In the far corner of the boat she pulled The Raven's cloak more tightly about her and shivered, staring into the darkness. The moon was covered by clouds. She was frightened, but she knew there was nothing she could do about her plight for the moment.

  Season was her father's daughter and did not easily admit that she was beaten. Having
a strong will and a sense of survival, she was determined that no matter what happened she would never grovel at the feet of the man who called himself The Raven. Was she not superior to him by birth and breeding? Wouldn't it be wise to show him how an English lady of quality acted? She was determined to bury her fears and to meet whatever demands this man made on her with strength and dignity. Season had taught herself to swim on the lovely summer days she'd spent in the English countryside, and she was a good swimmer. Perhaps, she thought, I will be able to break away and swim for shore. Thinking of escape will keep me from loosing my sanity, she told herself.

  Suddenly a huge ship loomed before them through the dense fog. Season could just make out the figurehead, it was shaped like a raven with wings spread, ready to take flight. She closed her eyes, trying not to think about all the stories she had heard about how pirates treated their captives.

  When the small boat bumped against the hull of the ship, The Raven hoisted Season onto his shoulder and climbed the rope ladder. Once he reached the deck, he placed her on her feet and assumed command of the ship.

  "Hoist the riggings, Briggs. We sail on the morning tide," he called out.

  "Aye, aye, Captain," came the reply, as the crew began scurrying about, making ready to sail.

  "These are tricky waters, Captain, I fear we might run aground in this fog," the man Briggs called out.

  "Have no fear, I know these waters like your own mother knows your face. I will take the helm until we are out to sea," came the raspy reply. "Take the lady below, to my cabin."

  "Aye, aye, sir."

  The man called Briggs turned to Season. "Come with me, little lady. I'll see that you are made comfortable."

  Season gave in gracefully, knowing she had no other choice. Briggs led her down the companionway and into a dark cabin.

  "I'm sorry you can't have no light until we are safely out of these waters, my lady. Here give me your hand and I'll lead you safely to the bed."

  Season stubbornly refused to give the man her hand, so he took her by the arm and led her forward. Reaching out in front of her, she felt the bed and sat down. She heard, rather than saw, the man leave, and she recognized the sound of a key grating in a lock. Season knew she was now the prisoner of the ominous Raven.

  Unable to see the cabin, she feared it was filthy—the bed might even have lice, she thought, jumping to her feet. Sniffing the air, she couldn't smell any offensive odor, only the bracing aroma of the sea.

  Sighing heavily, she sat down on the bed. She was so weary that she soon lay back and curled up, pulling the covers over her, no longer caring about the condition of the cabin. Sleepily she closed her eyes.

  She could hear the wind catching a bit of canvas and the waves lapping against the ship. Too tired to care about anything, Season drifted off to sleep.

  The Raven had removed his black hood and he now stood at the helm of the ship. His first mate, Briggs, stood beside him, watching him maneuver the huge ship through the water with little fear of jagged rocks and sand bars—the hazards that preyed on unsuspecting sailors in these waters.

  "You have the gift, Captain. You handle the ship as easily as if you was on a Sunday stroll."

  The Raven did not reply.

  "Did you have any trouble this evening, Captain?"

  "It was too simple. No man challenged me. No one will know Lady Season Chatsworth is missing until the house awakens tomorrow."

  "Did she give you any trouble?" Briggs wanted to know.

  The Raven stared into the thick fog. "She seemed willing to accept the inevitable after a fashion."

  "What's our destination, sir?"

  "We set course for the open sea and safe waters. There we await the signal that my uncle has been released. If all goes well I will set the lady ashore by tomorrow evening. I left a note pinned to her pillow. I am certain the British will not hesitate to exchange my Uncle Silas for Lady Season."

  "Let us hope so, Captain. I have a great fondness for your uncle."

  The Raven gripped the helm tightly. He had taken desperate steps tonight, but he had been backed into a corner and had had no choice. He had very little doubt that General Clinton would be shown his note tomorrow. Tomorrow night the Andromeda would again sail close to the New Jersey shore to receive the message of his uncle's release. The Raven knew that General Clinton was planning to take ship himself in a few hours, but he had no doubt that the man's fear for Lady Season Chatsworth's safety would keep him on land long enough to see that Silas Dunsberry was released.

  7

  Molly came running down the hallway, screaming at the top of her lungs. "My lady, my lady, they've took my sweet, innocent lady!"

  Mrs. Stiles, the housekeeper, who was just coming out of the Tibbs's bedroom grabbed Molly's arm and tried to make some sense out of her raving. "What are you talking about? Is something wrong with Lady Season?"

  "What's all this commotion?" Mrs. Tibbs asked, poking her head around her bedroom door. "Do you want to awaken Lady Season with your carrying on?"

  "My lady has been taken away. Someone came into her bedroom last night and spirited her out of the house," Molly cried hysterically.

  By now Colonel Tibbs had heard the loud carrying on, and he came out into the hallway, tying the sash of his purple robe about his waist. Here now, what's all this about? Your shrieking would wake the dead," he said in a commanding voice.

  Molly dropped to her knees before him. "Oh, sir, my lady has been taken!"

  "What's this? What are you saying, woman!" the colonel asked, hauling the hysterical Molly to her feet and shaking her soundly.

  "When I went into my lady's room like I always do— she's an early riser and if she isn't already awake, I awaken her—"

  "Yes, yes, get on with it," the colonel commanded in an irritated voice.

  Molly dabbed at her eyes with her apron. "When I went to her room this morning, there were signs of a struggle, and she's missing!" Molly declared, grabbing the colonel's hand and practically dragging him toward Season's bedroom.

  The colonel caught his wife's eye. They both knew that if anything had happened to Lady Season while she was under their protection there would be all hell to pay.

  Colonel Tibbs looked about the cluttered room with the practiced eye of a soldier. He noticed there was clothing strewn on the floor, but Lady Season Chatsworth's jewel case was on the vanity, seemingly untouched. He glanced at the curtains blowing in the wind and deduced that the intruder must have climbed through the window.

  "By the saints," he roared. "Someone will pay for this piece of work." He scanned the room, looking for some clue as to the lady's disappearance. Mrs. Tibbs's voice had joined Molly's, and the two women put forth a fearful howl.

  Colonel Tibbs's eyes fell on the rumpled bed, and he noted that the coverlet was missing. Then he saw the note propped against the pillow. He grabbed up the parchment and saw that it was addressed to General Clinton. Hurriedly ripping it open, he began to read aloud.

  General Clinton,

  I regret to inform you that the Lady Season Chatsworth is a guest of mine until such time as you can procure the release of one Silas Dunsberry. The lady will be shown every courtesy and I will expect the same treatment of Mr. Dunsberry. I will be in touch with you, but meanwhile, may I suggest you seek Silas Dunsberry's release with the utmost haste. I know he is being held somewhere in New York. Remember he must be unharmed or you will never see Lady Season Chatsworth again. You are being watched—I will know if you play me false.

  The Raven

  "Damned impudence," Colonel Tibbs raged as he pushed past his wife and ran downstairs to dispatch a quick note to General Clinton.

  A short time later General Clinton paced the floor, raising his fist in anger. "This time that upstart has gone too far. Before he was a damned nuisance, but now he has overstepped the bounds of decency! He will swing from the gallows for this piece of work!"

  "I fear for my cousin at the hands of such a mad man," Edmund declar
ed angrily. "How was it possible for him to spirit her away right under our noses?"

  Colonel Tibbs turned a shamed face toward Edmund Kensworthy. "You have every reason to be put out with me. It was my duty to keep your bride safe until the wedding. I was lax in my duty and will take full responsibility. I can only guess what Lady Season's father's reaction will be when he hears about this atrocity."

  General Clinton waved Tibbs's statement aside. "There is no time for recriminations. The utmost priority at the moment is to make sure we meet this man's demands. After Lady Season is safely returned we will deal with this pirate! Believe me, when this is over, heads will roll."

  "Let's hope that The Raven's head is the first to go," Edmund spoke up.

  "Perhaps he will do as the note says and release Lady Season when Silas whatever-his-name-is is set free," the general's aide spoke up.

  "Dunsberry," Colonel Tibbs offered. " Silas Dunsberry."

  "You do intend to give The Raven this man in exchange for my cousin, don't you, General?" Edmund asked.

  "Hell, yes. I have no choice. I have already sent a man with orders to release the prisoner. We cannot afford to make any slips. The Raven has ears everywhere. It goes against everything I believe to give in to this blackguard, but my hands are tied. At this time, all that matters is that we get Lady Season back safely."

  "I am in agreement with you, sir," Edmund said.

  "I'm half out of my mind with worry over Season."

  "I know you are, my boy—we all are. I am upping the reward on The Raven's head. I will make it so high that his own mother would turn on him to collect. Soon there will be nowhere he can hide!"

  Season awoke to the sound of a key grating in the lock. Sitting up, she noticed it was morning and sunlight was streaming into the cabin through the high, oval-shaped porthole. She had lived through her ordeal and by some miracle she was still alive.