Passion's Series

by Adair, Mary

  William laughed as he removed his Baoding Balls from his pocket and rolled them in his hand. "The men must really look forward to that." At Raven's obvious look of discomfort, William raised both hands. "I understand, end of that conversation. By the way, have you heard any word from your Bow Street Runner?"

  "Yes. There's a new kid out on the pier according to Mr. Farley, 'the mean, scrawny type'. I suspect that means 'the thin and underfed type.' Farley said he appeared to be pretty tough in spite of his size. He and the rest of the gang kicked around in the warehouse ashes."

  William made himself comfortable in a large chair by the window. He pushed a heavy drape aside and looked out. "There is a definite chill to the air this morning. Looks like we might have an early winter. If we don't get Dawn off soon, she will just have to stay till spring."

  He turned his attention back to Raven. "What are you going to do, about the boy I mean?"

  "I've given instructions for him to be shanghaied and put on the first ship headed out of port. I will interrogate him first myself before he sails."

  "Isn't that kind of harsh? What if he knows nothing about the fire and just happened to be snooping around for whatever he can find to survive?"

  "Why would you think it harsh?" Raven snapped, then reined in his temper. He still stung from William's remark about Dawn remaining till spring. "If he knows something and shares it with us, sailing will be his reward," he added in a reasoning tone. "Even if he knows nothing, it will be his chance at a new life. He'll learn a trade while he's fed regular meals with a safe place to sleep. He'll be a better man for it."

  William shrugged his shoulders and looked out the window once more. "I suppose you're right. Since you're sending Farley instead of going yourself, I assume you have other plans for tonight."

  "I promised Marguerite I would escort her to a small gathering at Lord Blake's. Care to join us?"

  "Lord, no!" William tossed off his drink. "I don't care to ever again attend one of Blake's small gatherings. Believe me, once will be enough for you as well. I'll go out with Mr. Farley tonight. Frankly, I don't trust the man and I'd hate to see the young scamp damaged to the point he must recover before he can tell us anything."

  Chapter Ten

  "Hello, darling," Marguerite held the door wide. "Come in." Her black hair cascaded over one shoulder in soft waves that reached to her waist. Her scarlet painted lips spread slowly and seductively as she stepped back to let him enter.

  Raven sauntered through the door, making a show of looking about the well-furnished entryway, which had become so familiar to him these last few months. "Where's your butler?"

  "Oh, I gave him and the rest of the servants the night off," she answered with a wave of her hand. She shut the door behind him and slid home the bolt. "We are quite alone, my love, to pursue whatever delights we wish."

  Raven took note of the icy blue silk robe. It was obvious she wore nothing beneath the luxurious garment. Her full breasts pushed against the taut fabric. The tight sash showed off her tiny waist as the delicate cloth clung to her shapely hips and legs. A month ago the sight would have aroused him. Even the thickening of her accent to let him know she was hot, would have excited him. Oh, how much his life had changed in such a short space of time.

  "I see you're not dressed." He removed his gloves and hat and set them on a small, nearby table.

  "No, darling, I'm not dressed.. .at least not to go out for the evening," she purred. "This very soft, very clinging robe is all I have on." She accentuated the cling of the fabric against her skin as she seductively rubbed her hands along her body. Her eyelids lowered slightly and she moaned ever so softly as she caressed herself.

  Raven watched her lewd actions with little interest. He was ashamed to admit to himself that at one time, he would have found her little act titillating. Now, she only reminded him of a whore in a brothel. Why had he not made that comparison before? He was surprised to realize he was physically sickened by her performance. "I know you like to be fashionably late, but this little delay would be far more than fashionable."

  She seemed unaware of the repugnance she engendered. "Come." She glanced at the stairway as she ran the fingers of her right hand along the low neck of her robe. "Let us go upstairs, Oui?"

  She didn't wait, but trailed a finger across his chest as she walked slowly past him to step onto the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder and spoke in a husky voice as she raised her foot to the next tread. "I know you have had such a trying day, poor darling, what with the fire and Dawn's escapades."

  "Ah, you gave all the servants the night off so you could lift my spirits?" He smiled as he fought to keep the mockery from his voice.

  Marguerite answered in her most seductive purr, "This iz correct. Will you not join me in my room? I have a surprise waiting there for you." She had reached the top of the stairs and slowly loosened the tie about her waist to let the robe fall open.

  Struggling to control his rising uneasiness, Raven asked, "Are you not afraid of what the gossips might say with my carriage parked right out front for so long a time?"

  She tossed her ebony curls as if the matter were of no importance to her. "If you are so concerned, have your man take it around back. Or better, have him leave and come for you in the morning." She didn't wait to see what he would do. Instead, she went straight to her room, so certain was she in her ability to bend him to her will.

  Raven's instincts shouted at him to leave, but he knew he owed Marguerite better than that. After all, however improper she might be, she was acknowledged as his fiancée. With a soft curse, he climbed the stairs. Marguerite was already in her room. He most certainly didn't need her to show him the way. He'd spent as much time in her bed as she had in his. Tonight would be no new story for the gossips, and he well imagined the tongues were wagging already.

  No, he had to admit to himself, he wasn't concerned with the gossips. He was simply stalling. It was clear to him this liaison had to come to an end.. .preferably in a civil manner. He wondered if she sensed his reluctance, even his repugnance. Repulsed or not, he had to do this right. He could only hope to rekindle whatever loyalties he once felt toward her and not let her see his true feelings. He saw no reason to cause her more pain than necessary.

  At the top of the stairs, he looked down the hallway. Marguerite’s rooms took up most of the second floor of the small townhouse. He gave a heavy, self-recriminating sigh and wondered why he ever entangled himself with a woman like Marguerite. But he knew the answer. It was just part of the game, a game with no rules and no place for regrets. It was a game a man like him and a woman like Marguerite could play very well.

  Raven gathered his resolve as he strode down the hall in her wake. Unbidden thoughts of Dawn filled his mind. Before him appeared the apparition of soft blue eyes that could turn from cool disdain to tender longing, to heated passion so quickly it sometimes staggered him.

  He remembered the texture of Dawn's hair so well his fingers tingled with the thought. His mouth hungered for the honeyed taste of her lips, as his body hungered for the feel of her in his arms.

  "Do hurry, Raven," Marguerite spoke from her doorway.

  Raven's eyes met hers. When he entered, she wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him to her. She grasped his hair to force his head down so she could bring her lips to his. She kissed him greedily, even passionately. At least, a month ago, he would have thought it passionate. Now it seemed mere groping, coupled with hedonistic demands. Raven could not help but compare her wanton attack on his mouth to Dawn's sweet kisses.

  Marguerite forced her tongue into his mouth as her fingers pulled at his shirt. He grabbed her wrist and broke off the kiss. He wondered briefly if his repulsion was more for her or himself.

  "Marguerite, please." He stepped back, seeking distance between them to cool her ardor. "I know our relationship has been strained since Dawn's arrival. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but there are things we must discuss."

  Slowly t
he passion in Marguerite’s eyes changed to a different kind of heat. She lowered her lids to hide her rising anger, but Raven had already seen the flash of change. When her eyes rose once again to meet his, her gaze was inscrutable.

  He hated to hurt her, and felt responsible. A feeling of guilt washed over him. Then he reminded himself she was no child. She was a woman who had been married before and knew the ways of men and women. She had entered this relationship with her eyes open.

  "Mon amour, it is sweet of you to worry so about me." With a casual shrug, she turned her back to him. She indicated the large tub in the center of the room. Steam drifted upwards. At least one poor maid had not been given the night off. She must have labored hard to fill the big tub with boiling water for it to still be so hot. To one side was an arrangement of cheese, crunchy bread, fruit on a silver tray and a bottle of wine.

  Marguerite tilted her chin and pouted as her fingers worried the fabric of her robe. "I have prepared a wonderful evening for us." She looked up slyly from beneath her lashes. "We have shared many such evenings, have we not? Yet tonight you are worried about my happiness. I can tell you what would make me happy." She moved closer. "Oui, we have much to discuss. I think it iz time we set a date for our wedding. Do you not agree?"

  "Have you considered how our lives have changed since Dawn's arrival? Do you really think we can go on as before?" Raven hated saying these things, but she wasn't listening, wasn't hearing what he said. "Dawn will always have a part in my life, Marguerite. Could you be happy married to me under those conditions?"

  She placed a hand over her heart as she turned to face him. "You are zo concerned about my happiness. This truly is very sweet. But instead, should you not worry more about your ward's reputation and the health of the two old dears who now have the burden of watching over her for you?"

  She walked to the silver tray and picked up a grape and examined it closely. "I fear your impulsive ward may well be too much for two elderly women." Small straight teeth nipped the skin of the grape. As she sucked the sweet juice from the fruit, she gazed into Raven's eyes. When he failed to respond, she shrugged daintily and plopped the remainder of the grape into her mouth. She chewed it slowly as she poured a glass of wine for herself.

  "Are you aware Dawn told the two dears about this horrible thing called a Blood Cry?" She twirled the stem of the glass and focused on the swirling red liquid. "And how it iz up to her to see it through on your behalf?" She took a sip of wine as she studied Raven over the rim.

  Raven was unsure of this new game Marguerite played, but he would guarantee her concern was false.

  The glass lowered and she licked her lips before speaking again. "I can tell you, poor Lady Montgomery went white as a sheet. I did my best to make it out to all as a silly joke to calm her." She reached for a cube of cheese. "You know, just a parlor story meant to entertain." She tried to press a cube of cheese to his lips, but he turned his head aside and stepped away. "Won't you have a bite, darling?" Her teeth nipped at the cheese.

  Raven worked to hold his composure. "No, thank you. I'm really not hungry."

  "Too bad." She placed the nibbled piece of cheese back on the tray. "To finish what I was saying..."

  Raven wished she would do just that.

  "I think I helped to ease the tension Dawn caused those two dear ladies. But really, darling, I do believe she will be the death of one of them. That would be terrible. I think you should send her home to her family. She iz not happy here, and I am not happy with her here. See it iz a simple solution. If you like she may attend our wedding before she goes."

  The bad wind that had followed Raven like an evil spirit for the last several weeks taunted him. He let out a deep sigh. "Dawn is a grown woman. I may want to send her home, but in the end she will do as her heart leads her. But whatever she decides, she will always play a part in my life."

  "Oh, really darling?" She flowed in his direction.

  Raven raised a hand to stop her approach. Her jealousy glowed in her eyes. She had reason to be jealous, he supposed. Not that there had ever been any great declarations of love between them. In fact, over the last few months, he came to realize Marguerite was incapable of loving anyone other than herself. "We both need some time to think things out. I have always tried to be honest with you, Marguerite. I think its best we not see each other for a few weeks to give ourselves a chance to consider our circumstances.”

  Raven watched as her fingers balled into fists and her eyes filled with tears of rage. She cursed between clinched teeth, "The devil take you and your Cherokee whore!"

  Whether her anger stemmed from him denying her wishes or her genuinely caring for him, he didn't know. Either way, he felt vulgar for having let a tawdry relationship based only on physical need escalate into a formal engagement. How had he let himself become so entangled with—no, entrapped by—this woman? Even if Dawn had not shown up, he knew he could never have let himself settle for this faulty union with Marguerite. At the same time, he hated casting her aside and wounding her pride. No matter how base their liaison, she deserved a dignified end to their association.

  "I don't want it to end this way," he offered and knew when he heard his own words they were trite in the face of her raging emotions. He turned to leave, pulling the door closed as he left. Behind him he heard a crash hit the door as he made his escape.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dawn smeared the last touches of soot on her cheeks. Sara watched as Dawn prepared herself, and fought the growing dread threatening to break her composure.

  "I have a bad feeling about tonight, Dawn. Must you go? Can't you wait just one night?"

  Dawn laughed, but Sara heard the nervousness in her voice. "Why, Sara. I didn't know you had visions."

  "I don't. I just have bad feelings. And sometimes.. .too often, actually...there turns out to be a very good reason for me havin' that bad feeling."

  "Well..." Dawn looked the part of a down-and-out street urchin as she tied a filthy cord around filthier britches, and then dropped her ragged shirttail. "If it will make you feel better, I'll tell you a secret. I have these feelings, too."

  Sara visibly cringed. "That should make me feel better?"

  "Of course." A mischievous grin touched Dawns lips. "You know I'll be careful. Besides, a warrior chooses where she will do battle. I promise you, I will choose wisely."

  Sara wrung her hands as she searched frantically to find an excuse to delay her new friend. "What do you mean warrior? You're just a woman."

  Dawn frowned. "A Cherokee woman is valued much higher by her people than a white woman is by hers. This is a sad thing for white women." She took a step closer to her friend. "My mother is a warrior and so am I.. .or I will be after this. Every warrior must go through," she thought for a moment, "an initiation." She patted her friend's fidgeting hands before giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Now stop your fretting. Nothing is going to happen to me and I'll not let anything happen to your brothers, either. Didn't I promise you that I'd take them to Charles Town? And I will. They will love it there."

  An hour later Dawn crouched in a dark alley with Tom and David.

  ***

  Tom shifted his weight. "There is someone new on the wharf," he offered. "He's shown up a 'alf dozen times and 'e was seen in the area of the fire shortly before it started."

  "You've done well, Tom. What does he look like?"

  "He's a tall one all right. I wouldn't want to see ya come up against him, mum. Even as fast and skilled as ya seem to be."

  Dawn gave the boy a reassuring smile. "I do appreciate your concern, Tom. The best way to keep me safe is to tell me as much as you possibly can. Is there anything else?"

  Tom shifted his weight again, scratched his head and then ran his fingers through his hair. Dawn couldn't help but smile behind the hand she artfully brought up to scratch her upper lip. She found his fidgeting quite endearing. He had taken his sister's warning to be careful and her plea to keep Dawn safe very seriously.


  "I think his hair is a light color," he finally confided. "I've not been able to get a clear look at 'im, but each time he has taken something out of his pocket as he walks away. Whatever he has in his hand makes a sound, a kind of musical sound. I just can't figure out what it might be."

  "That is very good, Tom. Your information will be most helpful." Dawn's skin pricked with excitement. "When was he last here on the wharf?"

  "The last two nights he's been hanging 'round a warehouse on the far west end. We did some asking 'bout. It's being leased by your Mr. Cloud, all right. And it's full."

  "Have you heard what's in it?"

  "No, but it looks like there 'ave been extra guards hired on. There's even been a Bow Street Runner takin' to passing it by each night. I'd say it's pretty valuable."

  "I'd say it's a trap," David chimed in for the first time.

  Dawn nodded in agreement. "Yes...and I think we need to go have a look."

  The boys lead Dawn through the maze of dark alleyways until they finally stopped to crouch behind an old rundown warehouse. "We need to climb up to the roof," Tom whispered as he pointed up. "From 'ere you can look across to the street that runs in front of the warehouse your Mister Cloud is leasing. It's the last one and is a bit off by itself."

  "Good, I will be right behind you."

  The three scurried up the wall without difficulty. Dawn moved to the edge of the roof and crouched low to peer over the side. The boys had been right. There was unusual activity about the storehouse. A heavyset man with a woman on his arm stumbled drunkenly along the planked walk. They slipped into the alley running along the side of the warehouse. Though Dawn heard occasional giggles and grunts, she was sure that what was taking place had nothing to do with follies of the flesh.

  Another man, probably the Bow Street Runner, watched them from the shadows a discreet distance away. He must have decided the two were harmless. Moving out onto the walk, he continued on his way.