In Enemy Hands

by Linda Winstead Jones

  She had tended to her personal business quickly and marched back to her warden’s side. The urge was there to deliver to him a kick as sturdy as the one she had given Quint, but that would serve no purpose but to anger them all. So she smiled sweetly and called them, wryly, her four paladins. In response she received confused frowns. The idiots were wondering if they’d been insulted.

  If she’d wanted to insult them, she’d make certain they knew it.

  So Lily sat alone on the floor of the tent. She would not eat their food. She would not rest on their cot. If the night became chilly, she would accept the chill rather than wrap herself in the Yankee blanket that was neatly folded on the narrow cot.

  When the hunger pangs began, she accepted them as well, a sign of her stubbornness and fortitude. She concentrated on the sharp pains. They were a sign of her determination, as was the hard ground beneath her. Her discomfort reminded her that she could rely on no one but herself.

  It was after midnight before she laid her head on the ground and slept. She expected to be haunted by dreams that would wake her screaming in the night, and she didn’t want that. She would show the Yankees none of her weakness. But her sleep was so deep and complete that she was lost in a black void until morning came.

  Lily’s escort to Washington consisted of a full dozen soldiers, as well as Quintin Tyler. Evidently Captain Brighton had believed Quint’s story, because when he joined the contingent he was unbound.

  There was a soldier with Quint, a corporal younger than Quint; the two of them spoke quietly, heads together, and the corporal glanced at Lily once. Only once.

  Quint’s clean-shaven face was a lovely shade of purple, and his scowl told her how much his jaw pained him. He spoke to the corporal as they passed her, a low “Watch your step, Candell.” Lily gave him a wide smile as he went by, not coming too close to her as she was already seated on her mare and her boots rested easily in the stirrups. Lily’s smile never touched her eyes. It wasn’t meant to. It was meant to convey to Quint how little she cared for him and his machinations.

  She bit her tongue as he passed by silently. She wanted to scream at him as she had the day before, wanted to bestow upon him every sailor’s curse she had ever heard, and then some. But Lily simply smiled coldly until he turned his head from her.

  “Miss Radford.” She looked away from the back of Quint’s head and found the captain standing almost beside her. He, too, was cautious of his nearness to her booted feet. “I regret that I cannot accompany you to the capital myself. Sadly, I have other duties to attend to.”

  “Killing civilians. Stealing horses. Abducting innocent women…. ”

  He raised a hand to stop her. “You are far from innocent, Miss Radford. And you’ve been caught, not abducted.”

  Lily stared at Brighton for a long moment. He didn’t look particularly hateful or dangerous. He looked no different than a dozen merchants or sailors she had known in Nassau. With the proper clothing, he might have appeared to be an English lord, for there was an almost regal air about him, in spite of his constant lethargy.

  “Do you know how much I hate you?” The question from Lily was delivered softly, and with much bewilderment. Brighton didn’t seem to take offense.

  “Yes, and that saddens me greatly, Miss Radford. I don’t consider you my enemy. I never have.”

  Lily looked down at him. He was confusing her, just as Quint had. No. Not as Quint had. Quint had confused her with his hands and his lips and those incredibly deep eyes. Captain Brighton confused her with a kind voice and a sadness on his tired face.

  “I sometimes have nightmares about you,” she confessed. “About that day.”

  Brighton sighed. “I have seen your face in my nightmares as well, Miss Radford. I have relived that afternoon a thousand times. I wish I could say that your father’s death was the only senseless waste of life I’ve seen in the past three years, but it’s not. He was one of many.”

  Lily was unexpectedly sorry for the captain, and she realized why he moved with such a slow step, why his eyes were always so lifeless.

  “I understand you’ve been refusing to eat.” He changed the subject suddenly, to Lily’s relief. He brought a large red apple from behind his back, and he tossed it through the air so that when she reached out her bound hands it smacked her palm smartly. “You must take care of yourself.”

  Lily squelched the urge to throw the apple back at him, instead taking a healthy bite. The captain smiled as she chewed the juicy apple.

  “You’ll forgive me for not handing the fruit to you in a more proper fashion. One look at Lieutenant Tyler this morning warns me that would not be smart.”

  Lily nodded, swallowing the sweet fruit. Perhaps it was foolish to starve herself to spite the damn Yankees. “You’re probably wise in that respect, Captain.”

  Brighton glanced down at the black boot that rested in the stirrup. Her dress was hiked up to allow her to ride astride, but the boots covered any skin that might have been improperly exposed. He doubted very much that Lily Radford would have cared, in any case.

  She turned her face front, ignoring him, but he had a feeling that she had, if not forgiven him, then at least found room in her heart for a little understanding. Perhaps her face would stop haunting him in nightmares where she knelt over her father and then looked up at him with that accusing gleam in her bright eyes.

  But there were other nightmares more horrible than that one that he would never be rid of.

  He shook his head as he walked away. God help the soldiers responsible for keeping that woman in prison, for that was surely where she was headed.

  Brighton knew, thanks to Corporal Candell, that Tyler was indeed one of their own. How ironic, that two soldiers so passionate about their cause should find one another in a time such as this. He didn’t find it odd that he so naturally thought of Lily Radford as a soldier. She had the heart of a soldier, the determination of a warrior.

  And God help Quintin Tyler. If the man was truly planning to try to win Lily Radford back, as he claimed he was, he had a long and bumpy road ahead of him.

  The band of soldiers and their single prisoner moved at a slow but steady pace over the road to Washington. One soldier held the reins to Lily’s mare, and she was flanked on either side by stalwart privates who watched her with an almost amusing mixture of caution and wonderment. She wanted to laugh at their amazement. They couldn’t accept that a woman who looked no more dangerous than their own wives and sweethearts could be a blockade runner. Women were supposed to be weak creatures who needed their protection—not the enemy. Not prisoners.

  Quint rode at the rear of the line. Lily was always aware of his presence; she could actually feel him behind her. But she didn’t turn to look at him—not once during the day’s journey.

  They stopped for a noon meal and to tend to the horses. Since Lily’s hands were still bound, one of her more daring guards assisted her as she dismounted. Lily was docile, putting the private’s fears to rest. Her thoughts had been occupied with a single thought during the morning’s ride. Escape.

  She certainly couldn’t fight the contingent of a dozen soldiers and expect to make any progress. They were armed and long-legged and extremely wary of her. They expected her to try to escape. No one spoke to her, even after they stopped, but they all watched her carefully.

  Even Quint kept his distance as Lily sat beneath the leaves of an oak tree that was in the process of turning red. A few brown leaves had dropped to the ground already and crackled beneath the soldiers’ boots. Lily lifted the soft bread she’d been issued in her hands. Her wrists were chafing, but she refused to complain.

  Quint watched Lily lift the bread to her mouth and take a dainty bite, her eyes unfocused and turned away from him. His own eyes were narrowed as he studied her, and the longer he watched, the angrier he became.

  He continued to watch Lily out of the corner of his eye as he approached the lieutenant Captain Brighton had placed in charge of this detail. Li
eutenant Hanson was young, probably younger than Lily, but he was as serious and dedicated as a twenty-year veteran.

  “Can’t you at least untie her hands so she can eat?” Quint hissed. He didn’t want Lily to hear him pleading for her. She was so furious, she’d probably prefer to remain bound than to benefit from his assistance.

  Hanson shook his head. “She’s handling herself just fine, Lieutenant Tyler.” Hanson turned his harsh glare to Lily. “I’d think that you, of all people, would understand why she needs to remain restrained.”

  Quint placed a hand over his discolored jaw. “She was bound when she did this.” He looked to her, sitting close enough for him to study, yet too far away to hear his conversation with the lieutenant. Suddenly, Quint was certain that Lily knew he was watching her, knew he was talking about her, and she was keeping her gaze averted from him on purpose.

  He ignored Hanson and strolled toward Lily. He’d tried to allow her enough time to cool off, at least enough for him to explain what had happened. If the look on her face was any indication, he hadn’t waited nearly long enough.

  He was almost upon her before Lily turned her head and acknowledged him. She lifted her eyebrows slightly and looked him up and down, her eyes sweeping over him with disdain. There was no hint of tenderness in her cold perusal.

  “Lily.” Quint squatted beside her, his left leg bent beneath him, his still impaired right leg extended. “Are you all right?”

  Lily saw it, then, the flash of guilt in his dark eyes. Guilt. It must be a new feeling for Quintin Tyler, she thought as she watched him without responding. And as she watched his face, a plan began to form in her mind. She’d been playing a role for the past year and a half and doing a fine job of it. She could pretend a little while longer, if that was what it would take.

  Quint started to work the bonds at her wrists. The skin beneath the rough rope was red and swollen and tender, but there was no blood yet. Without looking at her face, Quint massaged her sensitive skin.

  “Did you…. ” Lily’s voice was soft as she questioned Quint, hesitating briefly. “Did you tell them that we’re married?” She wished that he would release her hands. It was as if her body didn’t know that he was a traitor, even though in her mind she had dismissed Quintin Tyler. She still liked the feel of his hands on hers, his fingers massaging her wrists and hands. For a moment, just for a moment, she felt an odd tightening in her chest as she watched his face. She had come to love that face… and then to hate it. But the sight of those dark eyes, that nose with the small bump, the strong jaw that was now a strange shade of purple, still stirred her. Even though she didn’t want to feel anything for him.

  Quint shook his head. “No. Captain Brighton seemed to think it would be best if we kept that to ourselves for now. It’ll be easier for me to get you out —”

  “To get me out?” Lily snapped, then grabbed hold of her emotions and calmed herself. “Why would you go to so much trouble to capture me, just to get me out of prison as soon as we get to Washington?”

  Quint lifted his head and stared into Lily’s eyes. “You have to know that I never expected this. I never expected you to be Captain Sherwood, and I sure as hell never planned to fall in love with you.”

  For a fleeting moment Lily felt a softening of her hatred for the man who was her husband, a man who still claimed to love her. And then it was gone. “How can you help me once I’m in prison?”

  Quint gave her a smile, as if he meant to reassure her, to soothe her doubts. “I know an officer in the capital who might be able to help. If that doesn’t work out, I have a couple of names from Captain Brighton. Names of people there who can assist us.”

  Lieutenant Hanson joined them, a scowl on his face as he ordered Lily’s hands tied once again. Lily lifted her eyes to Quint, and they were wide and trusting. Great tears welled up in her eyes, but didn’t fall down her cheeks. Her lips trembled slightly, until Quint turned away from her.

  The trembling lips stiffened and the tears dried. Her face hardened, as well as her determination.

  She could be as devious and single-minded as Quintin Tyler. She could be as cold and unfeeling as he, and in that she would find her escape.

  It was near dark before they stopped again. Enough light remained in the sky for the soldiers to pitch a single tent for Lily and for the cook to begin to prepare their evening meal before darkness fell.

  There were never fewer than two guards at Lily’s side. She watched them with a grim smile, her vigilant watchmen, as the rest of the camp went about their business.

  More than one campfire was built, and a few of the soldiers grabbed a quick bite to eat and settled into their bedrolls. Lily assumed they were the men who would take the second watch. Four soldiers settled into a game of cards, after they had finished caring for the mounts, and Quint was engrossed in an apparent argument with Lieutenant Hanson.

  Lily couldn’t tell what was being said. They stood too far away from her. But she recognized the stubborn expression on Quint’s face and an equally immobile set to Hanson’s young features. They were arguing about her, she was certain.

  When Quint finally came to her, she couldn’t tell who had won their argument. Lieutenants Tyler and Hanson both still seemed extremely put out.

  Quint lowered himself to the ground beside Lily and began to loosen her bonds as he had that afternoon. Lily gave him a small smile, even though his eyes were on her wrists and not her face. She lifted her head and saw Hanson glaring at them. So this was what the contention had been about.

  Quint removed the rope and began to massage Lily’s sore skin as he had that afternoon. It was painful, but necessary, as the blood began to flow freely once again. Then he lifted uncertain eyes to her.

  “Thank you,” she said reluctantly.

  With the setting of the sun, the comfortable air had turned chilly. It wasn’t cold. Winter was still months away, but the nippy breeze was a drastic change from the warm winds of Nassau. It pressed wild curls away from Lily’s face and made her cheeks burn, and as Quint removed his hands from hers, she shivered. From the chill of the air, she told herself. From the chill of the air.

  Lily looked down and straightened her skirt as best she could. She was dusty and tired, and for a split second she almost regretted what she was about to do. But she didn’t regret it. She would go through with her plan even if she did.

  “Quint.” Her voice was little more than a whisper as she pleaded with him. “Is there some way we can talk… in private? Just for a moment.” She laid her hand on his arm. In the light of the small fires that lit the camp, Quint’s face softened.

  “Perhaps.”

  Lily stood and offered her hand to Quint. “Can we walk around the camp for a bit? My legs are cramped from riding all day.” That was when she gave him “the smile.” She had been working up to it all afternoon, wondering if she was capable of flirting with Quint at this point without him knowing exactly what she was planning.

  Evidently, she was. Quint stood and took her hand, placing it in the crook of his arm as they walked around the perimeter of the camp. Her two guards stayed several steps behind, far enough away that they couldn’t hear if Quint and Lily kept their voices low, close enough that Lily wasn’t going far without them right behind her.

  “I’m scared,” Lily whispered without slowing her pace.

  Quint laid his hand over hers and squeezed it lightly. “I know. I’ll have you out of there in no time. I promise.” His voice was as low as hers.

  Lily knew, at that moment, that the words were true. She was scared. Terrified, in fact. But not of prison. She was scared of returning to a life without Quint. Without love. She would have been better off if she’d never met Quintin Tyler. How could she ever be satisfied with a loveless life again? Now that she knew what it was like to care for another being with all her heart, to lose herself in warm arms and tender lips. The tears that ran down her cheeks were real this time, not manufactured tears like the ones she’d shed that a
fternoon. She was going back to a life that suddenly seemed cold and lonely. Quint had taught her how vulnerable she was to love, and in the process had managed to ruin her life.

  Quint stopped when he saw the silent tears, taking Lily’s shoulders and pivoting her to face him. With an agitated wave of his hand, he motioned back the guards who followed them. The soldiers stopped, then took a step back when they saw her tears.

  Lily peered over Quint’s shoulder. The camp behind him was quiet and well-ordered. A few soldiers were sleeping, a few were playing cards. They were all relaxed… all but Lieutenant Hanson, who watched Quint’s back with a frown. But he was on the opposite side of the camp. Her two guards were as far away as they’d been all day, and talking quietly. Now was the time.

  Lily stood on her tiptoes and lifted her face to Quint’s. Tear tracks marred her face, and her eyes were wide as she kissed him lightly on the mouth. Her hands were pressing lightly against his chest.

  Quint began to raise his arms to wrap them around her, but he was too late. Without warning, Lily shoved him with all her might, and he stumbled backward. Quint felt a sharp catch in his right thigh, but managed to remain on his feet.

  Lily disappeared into the trees that surrounded the camp, leaving the circle of light that the campfires created.

  His first thought was to let her go.

  His second, and most frightening thought, was that if he did, he might never see her again.

  The rifle fire that echoed all around brought him to his senses sharply, and he ran after her, cutting in front of the two guards.

  “Hold your fire!” he shouted, hurling himself between Lily and the barrage. His feet thudded against the earth and dried leaves, every step painful. But he never slowed his pace. He could hear Lily ahead of him, though he could see nothing. He heard her boots against the brittle dead leaves, her body as she brushed against low limbs in her path.