Seducing Liberty

by D. L. Jackson

  But damn, she couldn’t leave. It had turned her on, made her hot. When she finally did manage to peel herself away from her hiding spot, she’d sent Madam Eve an email, telling her she’d decided to go through with the date—needed to go through with it.

  She peeled the chemise off and ran for her shower, jumping in and scrubbing the salt water from her body. It took her another minute to wash her hair and she stepped out. Ryann wrapped herself in a towel, not bothering to even blot the moisture away, dripping all the way to her room, too impatient to dry off when the mysterious package waited. She felt like Pandora—about to open up a shitload of trouble. The thought made her smile. She rubbed her wet hair and eyed the giant white box. A designer ball gown? Cocktail dress?

  Dropping the towel, she reached for the lid and flipped it open. Tissue covered powder-blue fabric. She ripped the paper away and stared at a costume, one that looked like it would fit on the set of the movie they’d been filming.

  “Oh, hell.”

  An envelope sat on top of the dress. You are Madelyn Summers, agent code name 355, a Loyalist’s daughter and member of the infamous Culper spy ring. This had to be a mistake. Someone had switched her cocktail dress with a set costume. She pulled the dress, stays, petticoats, and a fine linen chemise from the box.

  Another envelope dropped out. Ryann stared at it for a moment, before she swiped it off the parquet floor of her two-million-dollar motor home and tore it open. This is not a mistake. Wear it and wait at the gate for your date to start.

  She eyed the stays, knowing there was no way in hell she’d get them on without assistance, and tossed them to the side. This was merely a date. The costume didn’t need to be historically accurate. She’d risk the faux pas. After dressing, she eyed herself in the mirror, grabbed a couple of combs she’d worn while filming, and then twisted her long hair up into a knot, securing it in place with the jewel-covered baubles.

  She must be insane to agree to this. The idea was to live a fantasy, not the same story she’d acted out every day for the last five months. Whatever—she’d paid a fortune for the setup—to meet her ideal men, and she wasn’t about to back out now because of a little role-playing. She could work with it. If the end result was everything she’d been promised.

  And she had asked to be surprised.

  Ryann patted the stomacher and drew in another breath to calm her nerves. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and eyed her image in the mirror. Not bad. These costumes looked great on her, flattering her curvy figure, as though she belonged in them.

  She gathered her skirts, exiting the trailer onto a completely vacant set. Ryann glanced left and right. Where had everyone gone? Props and parts of the set were missing. Strange. She couldn’t be the last person here, and when did they pack up and move stuff? As she scanned the set, she noticed even the security trailer seemed to be absent. She tipped her head back and looked up into sky. It was only three in the afternoon, in June. It shouldn’t get dark until nine. Her shower hadn’t been that long—had it? Stars twinkled overhead. Okay, maybe it had. Or perhaps a solar eclipse? Most likely. She didn’t keep up on things like that.

  She began walking toward the gate. No crickets. No wind—or birds tweeting. She reached up and rubbed her arms. All she needed was a little violin music in the background to complete the creepy effect.

  Cla-dump, cla-dump, cla-dump. She whirled around at the sound of a galloping horse. Fog filled the lot, encasing her trailer, rendering it invisible and raising the spook factor further. She squinted into the mist-shrouded forest, half expecting the headless horseman to ride forth. Instead, a stallion and intact rider began to emerge. That would be her date—or one of them? A giant gray bore down on her. The rider had dressed in a British officer’s uniform and looked as though he rode out of the past.

  “Madelyn,” he yelled to her as he drew closer and slowed. His horse began to dance beside her, snorting, anxious to continue on. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Give me your hand. They’re right behind me.” She eyed the man, who was even hotter than the male lead that played Aaron. Um, wow.

  “Who are you?” Before she rode off with him, she should at least know his name.

  “Madelyn, don’t play this game. You know who I am. Give me your hand. We need to get out of here.”

  Okay, if he wanted to role-play, she’d role-play. She lifted her finger and waggled it at him, smiling. “Oh, I get it. You’re in character.” Ryann reached up and grabbed his hand. He swung her up onto his mount as though she weighed nothing, setting her behind him. She couldn’t stop the grin that crept onto her face. Ha! Not a fat ass. Too bad John wasn’t around to see how a real man handled a woman.

  He spun the horse around to look in the direction he’d come from. “They’re closer than I thought. Hold on tight.” No convincing needed. She threw her arms around his waist. The horse reared and he steered the beast in the opposite direction. She clamped on tighter.

  “Yah!” He kicked the stallion. The gray exploded forward, flying down the road as though the enemy really followed.

  Ryann glanced over her shoulder and caught the glow of several torches. The rumble of boots and hooves filled the otherwise silent forest. When Madame Eve went all out—she went all out. She could almost swear they were in New York in 1776, but then again, it didn’t take much to recreate the scene when Eve had a whole movie set at her disposal.

  “Where are we going?” she whispered into his ear. A thrill raced through her. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all. She could do this.

  “To my brother’s ship. He’s waiting for us down the beach.”

  “Your brother?”

  “He’s a privateer. We have to get off Long Island. It isn’t safe.”

  “Right. Wait, a privateer? That wasn’t in the script. Who did you say you were again?”

  “Aaron, your fiancé. Did you hit your head?”

  “Okay, I got it, you’re Aaron and your brother is Thomas—but he’s not really your brother by blood—only by marriage. Your father—his mother—they hooked up after their spouses died. Right? So when are we going to get to the ménage a trois I was promised.”

  “Ménage? Good God, Madelyn. A lady shouldn’t talk like that. How do you know Thomas is my brother, and where have you learned such scandalous things?” Aaron pulled his mount to a stop. “I’ve never disclosed this information, nor did I promise a ménage.”

  “It’s in the script. Well, everything but the threesome. That was my idea.”

  “What script?”

  Ryann rolled her eyes. Okay, she got it—she needed to play along. He wasn’t going to break character. “Never mind.”

  “Are you spying for the British?”

  She snorted and started to laugh. “Madelyn was a Patriot spy—code name 355. Of course I’m not a British spy. Someone hasn’t done their homework. You should at least read the script before you go all revolutionary on me.”

  “You’re not making any sense, Madelyn. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you escaped?”

  Fine—she’d play her part. “No, just shaky from the attack. I need to remove these constricting garments and lie down. Please, carry me away to the ship before I swoon and fall from your horse.”

  Apparently the right response. Aaron applied his heels and the stallion tore down the road and toward the beach. Clods flew up behind them, and in the distance musket shots rang out—multiple musket shots, screaming and yelling. So damn realistic. Five hundred yards in front of them, a crew in period costume stood by a rowboat, waiting for their arrival, and if she didn’t know better, she’d say there was a schooner bobbing on the horizon.

  Madame Eve sure nailed the background detail. Aaron pulled the horse up. It skidded on its hind legs, kicking sand everywhere. A tall man with dark hair and blue eyes reached up to pull her from their mount. “We haven’t much time,” he said.

  Ryann tipped her head back to get a better look and gasped. Hot damn!

  �
��Hello, mermaid, remember me?”

  “Thomas.”

  “Ah, you figured out who I am.”

  “It’s in the….” Script. “Never mind.” Oh my, Eve should get a bonus. Where did she find them? She’d have to ask after the date. The director should see them—she could find all kinds of chemistry with these two.

  Oh, this was turning out to be such fun. Intrigue, dangerous spies, sexy men, and a pirate ship—er…private yacht. Bravo! She wanted to clap her hands, but restrained the urge. Something told her they weren’t ready to break character, nor was she ready for them to.

  Aaron leapt off the gray and slapped it on the hindquarters, sending it down the beach. He scooped her into his arms and waded into the water, handing her off to a grubby sailor. Ryann wrinkled her nose. They didn’t spare a detail, but she could do without the smelly extras.

  Aaron and Thomas exchanged a few words she couldn’t hear before they hopped into the boat and began to row toward the tall ship in the distance, using only a lantern and starlight to guide them across the rolling ocean. It seemed like hours, but she knew it could have only been minutes, when several British soldiers arrived on the beach. Muskets fired blanks in their direction.

  She smiled and reclined against the inside of Aaron’s legs, enjoying the show. She’d have to talk to the director about adding a privateer to the movie. It would spice things up.

  A projectile hit the side of the dinghy. Ryann screamed, rolled, and dropped to her belly. “What the fuck was that?” That wasn’t in the script. “They’re supposed to use blanks!”

  “Keep your head down. We’re almost out of range.” Thomas turned toward Aaron. “Blanks? Blank what? What is she talking about? And where did she learn that language?”

  Head down—uh hell yeah. And what did they mean, where did she learn that language? Please—this wasn’t the dark ages. No, it was flattering, but they shouldn’t be surprised if a woman cussed, especially while she was being shot at.

  She stared at Aaron’s crotch and remembered this was a date and not real. The bullet was probably a singular occurrence and somehow someone had ended up with a real round. Ryann stayed on the bottom of the boat anyway. Accidents happened, but that didn’t mean she wanted to become a statistic.

  Something about the whole scene felt off, and she quickly discovered why, as another round smacked the side of the dinghy, putting a hole in it. The ball dropped into the bottom of the boat and rolled toward her. “Oh, fuck! They are real. They’re shooting real musket balls at us!”

  “She’s been talking crazy since I found her. She knocked her head when she escaped,” Aaron said.

  “Uh, guys…. I. Am. Here. You don’t need to talk about me as if I’m not, and I didn’t knock my head.” She risked a peek over the side at the shore as the firing stopped. “They’re not shooting anymore.”

  “We’re out of range. That last ball barely made it.”

  “Does it matter that we’re out of range and it barely made it?” Ryann squeaked. It shouldn’t, because they shouldn’t be using real rounds. “They were firing real bullets at us.”

  Thomas and Aaron exchanged a strange look.

  “Okay, I get that you two are trying to stay in character, but can we break from the act for just one moment? Firing real ammunition is dangerous. I know that you’re going for realism, but damn, don’t you think that’s a bit overboard?”

  They exchanged the strange look again. Aaron studied her. “Where do you think you are, Mattie?”

  “Please call me Ryann—it’s my real name. And of course I know where I am. I’m in New Hampshire, filming a movie called Lady Liberty.”

  They both shook their heads. “You’re off the coast of New York. As soon as we board the ship, we’re sailing for Boston.” Aaron helped her to sit up. “What is filming a movie?”

  Okay, she’d asked that they not know she was a star, but…. Ryann bit her lip. How could they not know what a movie was? Tension clenched her gut like a fist. This kind of stuff didn’t happen—wasn’t possible. Was it? Dark before three, disappearing sets, real musket balls…. “What’s the year?”

  “1776.”

  “Oh God.” Ryann touched the divot in her throat, trying her best to calm the panic. Not working. She rose to her knees and barfed over the side of the boat, clinging to the bow with a white-knuckle grip. When she’d finished gagging, she turned her head toward Aaron and back to Thomas. “Water,” she croaked. Aaron handed her a flask. She tipped it back and immediately began to cough as liquid lava slid down her throat. “Gah!” She shoved it back at him, spluttering. “That isn’t water.”

  “No, but it’s good for calming the nerves.”

  To hell with her nerves! She’d jumped feet first into another time. Panic was reasonable—so was puking. “It’s really 1776—and you’re Patriot spies—and I’m not dreaming any of this, am I?”

  They nodded this time. “We’ll look at the bump on your head as soon as we’re onboard. You’ve been through a lot tonight. Try to stay calm. You’re safe. There isn’t a British ship that can catch my schooner,” Thomas said. “I know. They’ve tried. I’ve a price on my head that would make the queen rich.”

  “I didn’t bump my head. I’ve traveled back in time.”

  “She must have hit it hard.”

  “Very.”

  Chapter Four

  Still in shock, a little tipsy from the swig she’d taken earlier, Ryann did her best to climb the rope ladder. Every limb in her body shook and it took all her effort to reach the deck. As she put her hand out for Aaron to take, a gust of wind hit. Her grip on the rope ladder broke, sending her tumbling from the side.

  Her body rushed toward the water as though she traveled in slow motion. Every shout, the expression on Aaron’s face, and the image of Thomas diving from the dinghy into the ocean, all registered in her mind like a snapshot. And then she slammed into the ocean; the impact smacked her body like a concrete wall, knocking the breath from her. Her heavy dress pulled her down, while the ocean swells pushed her under.

  Moments from drowning, strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Thomas kicked, bringing them both to the surface, where she gasped for air and coughed. “You like to swim in your gown, don’t you?”

  “Not on purpose,” she spluttered. He pushed her up and into the dinghy, climbing in beside her. She turned toward him.

  His eyes sparkled and the corner of his mouth twitched. “We will need to get you out of those wet clothes.”

  Of course. Wait. We? Did that mean the threesome was on? Ryann blinked. “What?”

  The twitch turned into a shit-eating smile. “Aaron told me what you’d said—about the ménage a trois, and we’re willing to accommodate your desires—if you really meant it.”

  Her eyes widened. Yeah, she’d asked for two men who were open to sexual adventures, if the date should go that way, but that was before she’d been thrust back in 1776, and before it was the real deal, not a setup. That could only mean they thought she was a slut—or easy. “I’m not a whore and I didn’t hit my head.”

  “I never said you were a whore. I simply stated that we like sharing our women and if it is something you think you’d enjoy, we’d be willing to help you with that.” Thomas reached over and lifted her hair off her forehead. “I don’t see a bump. Maybe the fright….”

  “I told you….” Yeah, she sounded crazy. “Never mind.” Maybe she should just go with it. She snorted and rose, grabbing the rope ladder again.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Thomas captured her and tossed her over his shoulder, one arm clamped across the back of her thighs, while he used his other hand to climb, obviously an expert with rope ladders and hauling women off like a Neanderthal. “I’ll help you up this time. I’m not fishing you out again.” Once at the rail, he handed her off Aaron, who turned and carried her toward a cabin without saying a word.

  Ryann lifted her head to see Thomas land on the deck and start after them. “You don’t need to do th
is.” She pushed on Aaron’s arm. “I’m fine.”

  “Good, because I intend to have you.” He continued across the ship, holding her cradled to his chest as he walked into a large cabin and set her on her feet. His hands went to the buttons on the back of her dress. “No stays. What a naughty girl.”

  “Get your hands off.” She spun around and slapped them away. “You presume too much.” The whole time travel thing still had her mind reeling—along with whatever rotgut they’d given her to calm her nerves. She needed a moment to collect herself and from the looks of it, they didn’t plan to spare her a second.

  “I presume nothing. You asked when you’d get your ménage. I think it’s clear I’m about to answer the question. It’s not like we haven’t been intimate. Don’t get shy on me now, Madelyn. Not after you’ve put wicked thoughts in my head.”

  She stomped her foot and turned to glare at Thomas as he ducked through the opening and shut it behind him, sliding the bolt into place. “And you.” She thrust her finger in his direction. “Unlock that door.”

  “No.” He leaned back and crossed his arms, grinning. “It doesn’t work that way, Mattie. I’ve rescued you twice now. I think I’ll claim my reward and don’t pretend you don’t want it. I felt the shiver that moved through you when I told you we could help you with what you want.”

  “I….”

  Aaron spun her around and kissed her. Not hard. Not soft, but the kind of kiss that told a girl a guy owned her—the kind of kiss that made a girl want him to. Ryann caved. Why fight it? This was what she’d practically begged—asked for, and the two hunky studs were handing it to her no questions asked.

  She slid her hands into his hair and surrendered to the passion.

  Thomas came up behind her. He kissed her neck while his hands went to the buttons on her gown. Slowly, one at a time, he worked them free. “Tell us no, and we’ll stop.”

  Aaron broke the kiss and waited, watching her with a look she could only describe as hunger.