In Enemy Hands

by Linda Winstead Jones

  He had been dreaming of Lily. That was all he could remember. Her face. Her voice.

  Sweat ran down his face and trickled down his back. His heart was thudding hard, threatening to burst through his chest. It was too damn hot to sleep well, and even outside the tent there was no breeze to make the heat bearable.

  With a frown, Quint lowered himself to the bedroll, resting his head in his hands. Whatever had jerked him from a sound sleep had brought him to such a level of awareness that he knew he would get no more sleep that night. His only consolation was that soon he wouldn’t have to rely on dreams of Lily to see her face.

  Twenty-Seven

  The island was more serene than he remembered. The water shimmered as jewel-like as the year before and the sun shone as brightly, but the docks were quieter and the people on the street moved at a slower pace.

  But then, the war was over, and the frantic pace that had driven Nassau when the blockade runners infested her port had naturally slowed.

  Quint brushed a thumb over his freshly shaven jaw. He felt surprisingly bare without his beard and long hair, but one look in the mirror had told him that Lily wouldn’t have liked it.

  He walked past shops he had once frequented, never even looking through the open doors and windows to see if the familiar faces of merchants he had known peered back. Some of the buildings were boarded up, giving the street a deserted look even though some shops remained open. He passed the cottage where he had met with Eleanor Slocum, not even giving the place a second glance.

  His limp was so slight now that it was barely noticeable. He still had his bad days, now and again, but as he walked down the familiar street, he wouldn’t have noticed even if the old wound had been bothering him.

  There could be nothing more pleasant than June in Nassau. The sun warmed his face, and a balmy breeze washed over him, filling him with the smells he associated with Lily—salt air, perfumed tropical flowers, the sun baking into the cobblestones.

  What would Lily say? Was she even there, in the little house he had pictured her in for the past eight months? Eleanor had left the island in March. Anything could have happened in the three months since then. The slumberous atmosphere of the town scared him, and doubts he had pushed aside assailed him, as fresh as a new wound. Had she waited? Knowing Lily, she could be anywhere in the world. Maybe she hadn’t bothered to wait for his return.

  As soon as he’d been released from the cavalry, he’d made his way to the coast and caught the next ship for Nassau. The little steamer he’d sailed on carried mail and newspapers and a small supply of manufactured goods. It would sail back in a few days, stocked with rum and return mail.

  His heart was pounding in his chest when he stepped onto the shaded path. There was nothing for him back in the States. The North was not his home, but he couldn’t return to the South. That left West, and a career as an Indian-killer with Colonel Holt.

  Quint cursed himself for the last-minute burst of doubt. He’d been so certain of Lily and their future together, but now he felt like a nervous bridegroom on his way to the altar. Would his bride be there, waiting for him?

  The house looked the same, neat and bright, the lace curtains dancing in the light summer breeze. On the outside, nothing had changed.

  Cora opened the door to his knock, and the look on her face said it all. She was stunned to see him there. Her face turned a pale green, and her eyes widened. For once, Cora was speechless.

  “Is she here?” Quint asked, unable to force his voice to a normal level. His words were gruff and low.

  Before Cora could answer, Tommy’s bulk filled the doorway. His meaty fist flew out, and Quint didn’t have a chance to react as the big man’s fist rammed into his stomach, sending Quint flying to land on his backside in the dirt by the stone walkway. Tommy was leaning over him, obviously intending to hit Quint again, but Quint swept his leg out and Tommy’s feet flew out from under him. Lily’s uncle landed in the dirt beside him.

  “Stop it!” Cora screamed, planting her feet between them. She was her old self again, Quint noticed, sour and demanding. But this time her anger seemed to be directed at her husband.

  She glared at Quint, a question in her eyes. She must have been satisfied with what she saw there, because she smiled, almost kindly.

  “Lily’s in the garden,” Cora said, offering her hand to Quint. He ignored her overture and rose to his feet under his own power.

  “Dammit, Cora,” Tommy whispered hoarsely as he slowly regained his footing.

  Quint glanced over his shoulder and saw Cora restraining her husband with a light hand on his arm and fiercely spoken soft words. Tommy wanted to come after him. He wasn’t finished with what he’d begun, but it was clear that Cora had no intention of allowing her husband to interfere.

  He followed the stone path, a path lined with dark green foliage and bright flowers. What would he find in the garden? Lily in trousers and flowing white sleeves, fencing with a sailor? Lily dressed in a frilly gown, with white gloves and a book of poetry in her lap? There was so much he didn’t know about the woman who was his wife. He wanted a lifetime to figure her out. It would surely take that long.

  Quint stopped when he could see her. Lily was sitting on the wrought-iron bench, a thick book in her lap. Her dress was simple, and her hair was pulled away from her face. Those unruly tendrils curled around her face just the same, refusing to be tamed. She looked almost serene, and that was definitely a new look for Lily.

  As if she could feel his eyes on her, Lily lifted her head slowly and set her book aside. He tried to gauge the expression that came over her face—surprise, shock even—and then she gave him a smile touched with tenderness.

  She stayed where she was, seated on the bench, as Quint approached her. He didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate at all, but took her in his arms as she rose from the bench to greet him. Lily wrapped her arms around his waist as he held her tight, and she laid her head against his chest. She was real, and warm, and her heart was beating as hard and as fast as his own.

  “I love you, Lily,” he whispered. In his mind he’d gone over their meeting a thousand times, planning what he would say to her. He’d planned to be witty and evasive until he was certain of her feelings. But when he’d touched her, all his determination had disappeared, like fog burned away by the sun. She was his wife, and he would never let her go again.

  “Quint, my love.” Lily lifted her face and met his eyes. “What took you so long?”

  Quint covered her lips with his and kissed her hungrily. He had dreamed of kissing her, of having her in his arms. “I came as soon as I could. Jesus, Lily, I wasn’t even certain that you would still be here.”

  Lily smiled. “I could have gone to England, but I was afraid you’d never find me there.”

  All Quint’s doubts and fears disappeared with that smile. “I didn’t know if you would have me or not… not after…. ”

  Lily stood on her tiptoes and silenced him with a kiss. When she pulled away, she stayed on her tiptoes, holding her mouth close to his.

  “I think we should start all over, Lieutenant Tyler. How do you do? My name is Lily. I love you.”

  “Actually, it’s Captain Tyler now.”

  Lily raised her eyebrows slightly. “It seems I’m destined to be the Captain’s woman.”

  Quint smiled. Lily reached out a finger and lightly touched the dimple in his cheek.

  “Captain Tyler,” Lily whispered. “Do you play chess?”

  Quint touched his lips to hers. “Why, yes, I do. Are you challenging me to a game?”

  Lily pulled away from him slightly, and he saw a flash of uncertainty in her dancing eyes. “No more games, Quint. From now on, I want nothing but the truth between us.”

  Quint sighed with relief. “Nothing but the truth.”

  “I love you,” Lily whispered. “I didn’t know if you would ever come for me.”

  “I can’t live without you, Lily. When I sent you away, I knew I was doing what was be
st for you, but I didn’t know it would hurt so goddamn much. In my heart, you were always with me.”

  Lily laid her head against his chest again. She would never let him go, not now that she had him in her arms again. How many times in the past eight months had she cursed him, and cried for him, and talked to him as if he were right beside her?

  She had forgotten how heavenly it was just to have him hold her, to lay her hands against his strong back.

  She didn’t hear the footsteps on the path, and evidently neither did Quint. But Cora was there, clearing her throat loudly. When Lily lifted her head and faced her aunt, she saw that Cora’s face was bright pink. Still, Quint held her tightly, refusing to let go.

  “Pardon me,” Cora said in a low voice. “But Jamie’s awake, and ’e’s ’ungry, and ’e’s screaming for you, Lily.”

  Quint stiffened. “Jamie? Who the hell is Jamie?” He looked down at Lily with a scowl on his face.

  “Bring him to me, Cora,” Lily said calmly, and her aunt turned and ran up the stone path.

  Slowly, Quint released her. “Jamie?” A fire burned in his dark eyes. Lily realized, with a slight smile, how very much she had missed those dark eyes—fathomless, but so expressive.

  “Not James Dennison!” Quint thundered.

  “No,” Lily answered him calmly. “Captain Dennison left Nassau months ago.”

  She didn’t know exactly how to tell Quint that he had a son. Right out? Or should she lead up to it gently?

  Quint didn’t like the look on Lily’s face. Was this Jamie responsible for the serenity and tenderness in her eyes? That was what was different about her. It gave her an aura of tranquility.

  “Do you love him, Lily?”

  “Oh, yes.” She glowed when she answered. “Very much.”

  “You just said that you loved me!” He grabbed her shoulders, and Lily leaned into him.

  “I do,” she whispered. “I love you both.”

  Quint spun away from her, and when he spun back around he saw that Lily was unfastening the buttons of her bodice, as calmly and casually as if she were simply taking a deep breath of sea air.

  “Dammit, Lily…. ” It hit him a split second before he heard the first hint of the squalling that grew closer and closer. He didn’t know what to say, wasn’t even certain that it was real until Cora entered the garden with her screaming bundle.

  Lily took the child from Cora with sure hands and folded back the blanket he was wrapped in. Quint was presented with a red face and a mouth opened in a furious scream.

  “He looks like you, don’t you think?” Lily asked with a devilish smile. “Demanding and defiant.”

  Quint was speechless as he stared down at the tiny baby. For a moment, no one moved. It seemed that no one but the baby was even breathing.

  And then Quint reached out a finger, a finger that was suddenly fat and awkward, and the baby grasped it tightly with four fingers and a tiny thumb to draw it to his mouth.

  “Your son, Quint,” Lily said softly. “James Quintin Tyler.”

  There were tears in his eyes when he looked at Lily. “How old is he?”

  “Almost seven weeks.”

  “You knew when you left… when I put you on that ship…. ” He couldn’t finish.

  Lily nodded and sat on the wrought-iron bench. She freed one breast and Jamie fastened his mouth over her nipple, resting one delicate and impossibly tiny hand on the swell of her breast.

  Lily sighed heavily. “I didn’t tell you because… I wasn’t sure how you felt about me. It was a confusing time, Quint. I was certain of my love for you, but…. ” She avoiding looking directly at him. She gazed down at the baby instead and smiled. “I wanted you to come back because you loved me, because you wanted me. Not because you felt obligated. If you had known about the baby… I never would have been certain if you came back for me, or for him, or because of your blasted honor.”

  Quint sat hesitantly beside her and watched his son contentedly suckling. Jamie’s hand opened and closed against his mother’s soft skin, a tiny fist so very small against Lily’s breast.

  “Are you angry with me?” Lily whispered.

  He shook his head. “How could I be angry with you? You don’t still doubt me, do you?”

  “No.” Lily shook her head. “I knew the moment I saw you standing there that everything was going to be all right.”

  When Jamie was sated, Lily wrapped him in the blanket and laid him in Quint’s arms. He was awkward with his son for a moment, but then he handled the baby naturally and easily. Jamie seemed to feel safe in his father’s big hands, clumsy as they felt to Quint at the moment, and was asleep in minutes.

  Lily sighed as she buttoned her dress. “That’s all he does. You’ve seen it all. He cries and eats and sleeps, and occasionally he gurgles. And, of course, he has his more unpleasant moments.” She wrinkled her nose.

  Quint wasn’t ready to let Jamie go when Cora returned for him. He had a lot of catching up to do. But he finally laid the child easily into the woman’s arms, with the care reserved for precious and fragile objects.

  “Planning on staying a while, are you, Mr. Tyler?” Cora asked with a puckered smile.

  Quint grinned. “A very long while, Cora. Do you think you can convince your husband to allow me to enter the house without a fight?”

  “Aye,” she said softly. “I think I might be able to do that.”

  Quint pulled Lily into his lap as Cora returned to the house with their son. “I wish I’d been here with you, when Jamie was born. The next time I will be.”

  “Good. I can curse at you instead of Cora and the poor midwife.” Lily grinned wickedly. “After all, it wasn’t their fault.”

  Quint pulled her head against his shoulder. His life would never be dull, of that he was certain.

  “I’m glad you came to me, Quint,” Lily whispered. “There were so many times when I wondered if I’d ever see you again.”

  Quint kissed the freckles that were sprinkled across her nose. “I suppose I will have to tell you every day that I love you.”

  “Of course.”

  “And show you every day how much I love you.”

  “Naturally.”

  “And maybe even allow you to beat me at chess, now and again.”

  Lily lifted her head and smiled at him, her eyes twinkling. “Quintin Tyler, I can beat you fair and square.”

  “I look forward to it,” Quint said as he drew her lips to his.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1996 by Linda Winstead Jones

  Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media

  ISBN 978-1-4804-9533-3

  This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

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  Linda Winstead Jones, In Enemy Hands