Evelyn hastened toward the wharf, wary of her footing on the cobblestones. She increased her pace at a loud cry erupting from the mob.
The revelry in the wharf tavern continued as usual, the customers unaware or uncaring of what took place in the town. Catching her breath and praying, Evelyn didn’t dare hesitate lest she cry craven. She shoved open the front door and sought the owner. He raised his eyebrows at her working clothes but gave the directions she sought.
Evelyn took the stairs two at a time. Alex had to be in his room. He was the only one she knew who had a crew of men at his command who could be relied upon to support an officer of the court on a night like this. Her patriot friends apparently supported the mob, or at least had made no attempt to stop it. She understood their position, but that did not prevent her bitter rage of helplessness.
***
Finishing his mug of rum, Alex set it aside to admire the buxom beauty gracing his bed. The maid had been more than accommodating these last weeks, and she had grown brazen in her role. He had entered to find her already half-undressed and lolling upon his pillows. He could think of no good reason to throw her out.
Joining her now on the bed, Alex was less than enthusiastic about the pleasures of the flesh she offered. The doxy apparently hadn’t bathed since the last time he’d had her, or the first time, more likely. Alex tried to conquer the protest of his nose as he reached to further untie the stay laces that held her overflowing breasts. She giggled drunkenly as she spilled into his hands.
He’d once thought her bounteous breasts a pleasant temptation, but he could no longer manufacture any desire to sample her wares. Instead, his thoughts turned to a slender beauty whose slim curves and delicate scents enticed his imagination. Wondering how it would feel to hold Evelyn’s naked curves against him, he felt a surge of pure lust that brought more ecstatic giggles from the whore beneath him.
The knock at the door interrupted his pleasant reverie. Cursing, Alex ignored it in favor of removing the last of the laces, revealing all of his bedmate’s plentiful curves. She was already working at the buttons of his breeches, and he surged impatiently against her hands, eager for the release from the hampering pressure of tight cloth.
The knock became more frantic, and biting back a stream of invectives, Alex groaned and returned his boots to the floor. Fearing there was some trouble with the ship, he stood and made a futile attempt to restore his buttons as he stumbled toward the door.
When he threw it open to find Evelyn on the other side, her eyes wide with fright— and then shock at sight of the naked woman sprawling across his bed—Alex was tempted to slam the panel shut again. Instead, he leaned against the frame and made a show of refastening his open shirt.
“To what do I owe this honor?” he inquired, mimicking her haughty words of a few weeks ago.
Evelyn stared at the huge breasts of the woman pulling up the covers in the bed. Dragging her gaze away, she was confronted by the breadth of Alex’s chest. She could scarcely keep her fascinated gaze from the whorls of dark hair across the muscular ridges revealed by the open shirt. It took an act of tremendous will to raise her gaze to the sardonic gleam of his damned eyes.
Disgust and anger rose up in her as she realized this same man who had kissed and held her came here at night to lie with a tart like that. She could not control the quiver of fury in her voice. “I thought to seek your help, but I can see you are otherwise occupied.”
Frustrated at her inability to speak her real thoughts, Evelyn turned away, but Alex’s mocking baritone called her back.
“I’m in no hurry, my dear. Why don’t you come back and join us? If you’re willing to try bundling, I’ll even throw Tess out.”
Fury brought tears to her eyes, and clenching her fists, Evelyn swung to confront him. “I wouldn’t bed or wed you if you were the last man on earth. I came here to ask your help and warn you that the mob is out again, but I can see you care only for your own selfish pursuits. The mob is probably too drunk to figure out how to reach the Minerva anyway.”
Hard fingers caught Evelyn’s shoulders and jerked her back before she could make her escape. Alex scowled. “You have no right to come here and condemn me for what I do in the privacy of my rooms. You’re not my wife. I never had any intention of tying myself to a woman’s mewling whims, for just that reason. I don’t need a horde of whining brats to prove I’m a man, and that’s the only reason I can see for marrying. I’m a free man and mean to stay that way. Now, get off your damned high pedestal and tell me what you came here for.”
Shaken to the core by his blunt honesty, Evelyn stared blindly at the wall. Her breath came in short spurts, and she fought back the tears streaming down her face.
“The mob is rioting again. They surrounded my aunt’s house before I could get her away. They’ve broken up in groups. There’s one gone to Judge Story’s. They’re threatening to come burn all the English ships in the harbor. They were smashing in the fence at my uncle’s when I left.”
At his curse, she tried to fight his grip, but Alex’s fingers didn’t loosen. Evelyn brought her heel down on his instep. “Go bed your doxy. I’ll take care of it myself.”
Alex caught her up short, jerking on her shirt collar. “Don’t look at me like I’ve just committed adultery. We’re nothing to each other. Do you understand that?”
The words pierced her like bullets, but Evelyn vented her rage without acknowledging the pain. “I understand you’re a bloody bounder just like you always said. Now, let me go.” She swung her foot at his shin, and he had to loosen his hold to dodge the blow. She flew from his grasp and down the stairs before Alex had time to do more than yell her name.
Not until Evelyn was out of sight did he realize what he had done. Leaning his head against his arm where it rested on the doorframe, he cursed himself for three sorts of fool. He had thrown accusations at her that rightly belonged to another, and so had destroyed the very small hand of trust she had offered to him. He deserved her curses. His rashness had destroyed more than one relationship before. It seemed he was doing his best to end another.
Giving no thought to the woman in his bed, Alex opened a dresser drawer, pulled out his pistol, checked the load, and thrust it in the pocket of the coat he quickly donned. Grabbing the sword gathering dust beneath the bed, he buckled that on too. Rescuing fair maidens wasn’t in his line of work, but he rather fancied the dragon.
Clattering down the steps, he called to one of his crew in the tavern, gave a terse message, then hurried into the night. The smell of smoke had reached the wharf.
Chapter 9
Running down the alley behind the Upton house, Evelyn bit back a sob. She could hear the yells and cries of the mob, heard the smashing of glass as the threats escalated, and shuddered as she nearly ran into a burly trio uprooting a fence post. It was as if the devil had been let loose to tear her world apart. The horror of her encounter with Alex was almost as shattering as the rioting.
Thinking her a boy, the trio of scoundrels let her pass. She slid through the hedge to enter the way she had left. Her uncle was a fool to linger. There would be no protecting his precious possessions if he insisted on staying put and antagonizing a mob. She could hear his voice in the front room hurling curses. The vandals wanted his head, but most of the mob was poor and would be satisfied with whatever they could lay hands on. She couldn’t tell her uncle which was more valuable, his life or his library. She ran up the stairs to her aunt.
Frances’ idea of old clothes was a sprigged muslin she had worn last season. Evelyn sighed at the vivid white and multitude of petticoats. She would stand out like a lighthouse on a stormy night.
She helped Jacob and their aunt shove jewels and coins into an overburdened satchel. He raised a frightened face when she joined them.
“They’ve found Story’s wine cellar,” he said. “They’re too drunk to follow orders. They’re tearing up the judge’s study now, looking for I don’t know what. They weren’t supposed to harm
anyone, Evelyn, I swear.”
“We’ll not take any chances. We’ll try the side door. They haven’t noticed it yet. They’re probably looking for the wine cellar here too. Come on, Aunt Matilda, we’ll get you to Mama. They won’t bother us there.”
Jacob stood and shifted from foot to foot uneasily. “Uh, Evelyn, that might not be so good. They’re watching to catch Uncle George, and they’ve got our house posted. They’ll search there next.”
Frances wailed hysterically, and Matilda sat down in dismay. The shouts of violence outside erupted in a wild cry of triumph. The cellar door leading to the wine must have been discovered.
George Upton’s screaming obscenities cut the air. Matilda shook her head and covered her eyes. “I want to go home. I don’t know why I ever came here. They’re all savages. All of them.”
Evelyn feared Matilda classified her husband in the same category. She was inclined to agree. Grabbing the heavy satchel of valuables, she checked the hall. “We’ll find somewhere. Let’s go now.”
They hurried in single file down the back stairs, without glancing to the man berating the mob from the library. He had taken no thought to the care of his family, and they gave him none now. Matilda silently slid a hand over the mahogany breakfront, her pride and joy, as if saying good-bye. The china inside gleamed with the loving care she had given it.
Evelyn dropped the satchel and opened the silverware drawer, pulling out the utensils she knew her aunt had brought with her from England. She dropped them in Jacob’s pockets until they filled to overflowing, then wrapped the remainder in her jerkin and picked up the satchel again.
The side door creaked, but the noise was lost in the whoops of triumph in back and angry shouts in front. The humid air escalated tension. Evelyn nearly jumped from her skin as two men rounded the corner of the house, almost bumping into her.
Without the jerkin, her disguise was well nigh useless. The two rogues stared at her in confusion for a moment before discovering Frances in her white dress. Their gazes took in Matilda and Jacob and finally returned to the satchel in Evelyn’s hands. They laughed drunkenly as they realized what they had discovered and reached for the valuables.
“Leave us be. If your cause is liberty and justice, you have no reason to harm women and children.” Evelyn glared at the bottle in one man’s hand and pushed toward the opening in the hedge she had used before.
“Not so fast, wiseacre.” The ruffian caught her arm, and she could smell the fumes of alcohol on his breath. “The others can cry for liberty and what-have-you, but I got better things in mind. Give over the satchel, lady.”
His fingers hurt her arm, and she wanted to weep at being treated thus twice in one night. It was too much to be ignored by the men she had called friends, cursed by a man she called her fiancé, threatened by hooligans, and forced to slink through the streets of her home. Mentally calling Sam Adams and his committee every vile name she knew, Evelyn swung her foot hard, connecting squarely with the thief’s shin.
He roared a curse and raised his fist. She feinted to the left, and before he could swing again, someone grasped her attacker’s elbow and bent it backward with a painful crack. The thief shrieked in pain.
“That’s the last time you’ll lift a hand to a woman, my friend,” a warm voice murmured, ripe with mockery and something infinitely more dangerous.
Alex. Evelyn closed her eyes with a shudder. She heard both thieves scurrying into the night and opened her eyes in time to see the silver gleam of his sword returning to its scabbard. She stared at the weapon in horror, but her cousin and aunt held no such qualms. They grabbed his arms and covered him with welcome.
Evelyn caught the dark gleam of his eyes as he glanced over their heads to her. She felt frozen to the spot, weighed down by the enormity of his appearance and her memory of how she had seen him last.
“I have men waiting in the street. Come, I have to send my ship to safety. Are you ready?” Alex grabbed the satchel from Evelyn’s hand, avoiding touching her as he led the way through the break in the shrubbery.
He was moving the Minerva out. She wanted to question, but there wasn’t time. She felt more than saw the shapes of large men keeping pace with them as they hurried down the street.
Torches flickered along all the streets, and the cries of angry, drunken men filled the air. None dared stop the mob. It would be madness to try. Evelyn took another fearful breath and focused on the broad shoulders of the man ahead. She had lost all direction this night.
When it became apparent that Alex and her Aunt Matilda had come to some agreement involving rowing out to the ship, Evelyn retreated into the shadows of her warehouse. If they were planning to escape to England, she wanted no part of their plans. She handed over the jerkin full of silver to one of the sailors but did not join in their leave-taking.
When Alex came searching for her, she shook her head at his offered hand.
“I’ll not go with you. Take care of Aunt Matilda. I have other things to do.” She turned and started down the wharf.
Alex ran after her, grabbed her shoulder, and spun her around. “My men have orders to sail at the first sign of trouble. Your aunt and cousin have already agreed to go with the ship. I’ll go back for your uncle. I don’t want to have to track you down too. This whole damn town is about to explode. The ship is the safest place to be.”
“Not if it’s sailing to England.” Not flinching from his furious dark glare, Evelyn stiffened her shoulders and waited for him to release her. “This is my home. I’m staying. Jacob’s already gone back to tell Uncle George where we are, so you may go with Aunt Matilda now. Climb on your ship and sail away. We’ll be fine.” The flames from the bonfire at the State House streaked the sky behind her, putting the lie to her words.
***
Alex dropped his hand from Evelyn’s slender shoulder. The colonial situation was deteriorating rapidly, and he couldn’t risk leaving his ship in port. There would be martial law or anarchy by morning. But he didn’t want to leave Evelyn behind, roaming the streets in that revealing costume. He wanted her safe, where he could find her.
Instead, she stood there bravely, her violet eyes saying good-bye—against the backdrop of a town gone mad. Then she turned and walked away, slipping into the darkness as if she were no more than a shade or a memory.
Alex let her go. He had no other choice. He’d made it clear that she didn’t belong to him any more than he belonged to her. He had a ship already stocked and ready to sail, and long overdue. He owed it to his partners to see that it returned safely.
Turning on his heel, Alex shouted to the men on the dinghy, “Tell Ruggles to sail at the first sign of trouble. I’ll find my way out later.”
With a curse to himself, he strode toward Upton’s. He didn’t owe the bastard a thing, but he couldn’t send the man’s family off to England without at least trying to help.
The worst of the damage had already been done by the time Alex arrived. The magnificent library had been shredded to papers drifting up and down the street. The china crackled under his feet as he walked through the hollow house searching for any sign of inhabitants.
He found Upton standing in his front room, still shaking his fist at the now invisible intruders. When Alex entered, he turned on him.
“You! Where were you when I needed you? Go back and tell his majesty the travesty that has been wrought this day! I demand justice be done.”
Alex found a still-intact decanter of claret and poured himself a glass. “Go tell him yourself. Your wife and daughter are on the Minerva waiting to sail. The mob’s moved on to Hutchinson’s, from all reports. There will be a boat waiting to row you out at the wharf. That’s the best I can do for you.” He waited with interest to see the man’s reaction.
Upton began to turn purple, as if all the bile he had accumulated this night had built up to cut off his breathing. He spluttered and squirmed and finally protested, “I’m not leaving! I have a job to do. I’ll not let the bloody basta
rds drive me away. That’s what they want, you know. They’d drive us all out so they could take over. I’ll not go, I tell you!”
Alex had to admire the man in an odd way. Upton wasn’t a complete fool, nor did he lack courage. Unfortunately, he was too much of a jackass to know how to make the best of his more admirable qualities. Alex swirled the claret in his glass and contemplated how he had succeeded in making the best of his own worst qualities, and he gave the older man a wry toast.
“Suit yourself. I’ll send you the bill for your family’s fare. I don’t suppose you happen to know where I could find your niece and nephew, do you?”
Upton just glared at him, then turned to scream for the servants. Alex shrugged, set down his glass, and departed by the gaping hole that had once been the front door. He could follow the trail of broken bottles and locate the mob. He could hear the weird echo of their voices from a distance, but his interest wasn’t with them. He wasn’t sure what he sought out of this night, but he knew where his duty lay next.
He made his way to the modest house on Treamount. The entire street was dark and quiet, and he had an odd premonition that he wouldn’t find what he sought there. Still, he needed to speak with the lady of the house.
Amanda answered the door, her face pale with worry, her hands wrapped in frustration in the wrinkled folds of her apron. At sight of Alex, she gave a cry of relief.
“Tell me where they are! I have been in torment not knowing whether to go look or stay here in case they needed me. Bless you for coming, Mr. Hampton.”
He felt a cad for coming without answers to her questions. He had no hat to remove, and he stood awkwardly on the step, searching for lost words. “Alex, ma’am, the name’s Alex. Jacob and Miss Wellington were with me when we put your sister and Miss Upton on the Minerva. I thought perhaps they came back here for you. I’ve ordered the ship to sail if there’s any increase in the violence. I thought you might want to go with it. Mr. Upton is staying here. He can ship your possessions later, if you wish.”
Rebel Dreams Page 9
