They made it last as long as they could, as if each time might be their final one. So it should be the best there was to have, the best there was to have given. Because it was—and would always be—a gift. To take it for granted would be to risk ingratitude, to threaten destiny itself.
Selena had grown to know, even before his body tensed, the exact moment he would turn to move upon her. Sean had learned, by touch and instinct, when she wished possession. Tonight, when that moment came, it was all the sweeter for they were here, they were safe, and the future seemed as certain as the ecstasies they knew to be in store for them now.
He came upon her and soon they were together, riding the gorgeous rush. Her dream sank away into the backwaters of her mind; there was nothing now but sensation. Then it came suddenly, surprisingly. It was upon her, taking her in a swelling, incredible flood, with her mind dim and unsteady far back in the haze.
“Oh, my God!” she cried, as the pleasure seized her, gripping her body and shaking it in spasms, “Oh, God, oh, R…”
She caught herself in the nick of time—she hoped—and turned the sound into a growl of pleasure, and buried her mouth in Sean’s neck, biting. She felt him lose himself in her, the hot glow of his essence, again and again.
“Oh, Sean,” she said.
“Darling,” he responded, kissing her wetly, gasping. He had not heard the name that had trembled on her tongue. Thank God. It would never happen again.
The fort on the battery that served as the administrative center for the fledgling City of New York—and which also served at the moment as headquarters of Lord William Howe, commander of the British Army which had just beaten Washington—was solid but unimposing. The cannons which covered the harbor and guarded the mouth of the Hudson River were authoritative, but not overbearing. The place was a military edifice, no mistake, but the air about it was relaxed, confident, almost urbane: an art carried by the Imperial British to every corner of the earth.
Dick Weddington was waiting outside Fraunces Tavern when they came out into the crisp fall morning. Even the ride by horse-drawn coach into the ring of slums around the harbor did not seem especially distasteful. Or maybe it was because Selena, somewhat anxious about the coming interview with the “security director,” did not notice the squalor as closely as she had on the previous evening. She was sure now it was going to be McGrover, but she did not mention it, not wanting the men to think that she was upset. Instead, she watched the passing scene beyond the cab’s window. Here a group of sweating Irish immigrants were laying an extension of the cobblestone road that led to the ferry slip, supervised by a thick-necked, choleric roughneck that Selena took for Dutch. There, along the street corner, a big Negro was arguing and gesticulating fiercely among a small group of white men. It surprised her. “Isn’t that a healthy risk for him to take?”
“No, he’s free,” Dick said. “There are quite a few free Negroes here in New York. The rule is that if a master brings a slave with him to free territory, the man is still a slave. But if he has papers attesting to his freedom, the law must recognize those papers. Of course, what happens is that a gang of men will corner one of the darkies, and ship him off to Savannah or someplace like that. No paper in the world will do the poor buck much good then.”
Selena recalled, all too clearly, her recent experience of bondage, and her sympathy was aroused.
“Yes, but you have to understand the situation,” Dick explained. “These blacks take away jobs from the Irish and such. There is much hostility. Every now and then there is a riot, and the last time several Negroes were burned on the docks.”
“Burned alive!”
“Certainly.”
Selena looked out the cab window again, with a new wariness for the violent potential of this place. Some of her father’s friends had spoken of it as a “last great chance” for human government. It might well be that, she concluded, but if they burned people here as they did elsewhere, there was quite a distance to go.
Dick led them into the fort and over to the wing in which the offices stretched down either side of a corridor. He was well-known there, and many officers and soldiers called out a greeting.
“Hey, Dick. You get any business yet?”
“No, dash it! Your friends in the navy have the harbor blocked off. How am I supposed to earn a living?”
They laughed at his plight.
“I hear you’ve got Washington on the run to the north,” Dick offered, in a congratulatory tone.
“Aye! That we ’ave. The farmer’s passed through White Plains. We think he’s on his way to Boston.”
Dick’s eyes narrowed oddly when he heard this information, but he responded cheerfully as ever: “That’s the way to fight. Return the troops to England by Christmas, right?”
“Right, Dick. Burgoyne is up around Boston waiting to cut the rebel troops to mincemeat.”
“Ah, good news indeed.”
Then, abruptly, they were in a square, sparse office, standing before an austere, bitter-looking man. He sat behind a desk and looked up at them when they entered. He had piercing eyes and a hard mouth. Trust was not a part of his nature. Selena thought immediately of McGrover, and her heart was pounding. But that was due to relief. The name on the plaque on the desk read Lord Ludford.
“Friends of mine for registry,” Dick Weddington said.
Ludford gave both of them a searching look. He did not trifle with anything as formal as introductions. Instead, he took a sheet of parchment from a leather case and dipped a quill pen into a spotty inkwell. He stared at Sean.
“Name?”
Sean told him.
“Birthplace? Father? Father’s occupation?”
“Edinburgh. Richard Bloodwell. Merchant.”
Ludford’s eyebrows lifted slightly at the mention of Scotland, but he gave no other sign.
“Point of origin? Ship? Reason for being in New York?”
“Bombay, India. Blue Foray. And I hope to enter business here.”
Ludford went on writing, not missing a beat.
“Assets?”
Sean stiffened slightly and looked at Dick. He had not, of course, given any indication, even to his new partner, of the extent of the fortune he and Selena had brought with them. Dick was curious and guarded, too. He waited.
“Assets? Amount thereof?” Ludford asked, more sharply this time, and looked up.
“I would estimate…” Sean decided.
“You do not know for sure?”
“Of course not,” Sean grinned, brazening it out. “What man does unless he has very little…?”
Ludford’s lips pursed, and his voice showed a degree of respect.
“Give me an estimate then. I’m sorry, but this office must know. We are endeavoring to keep track of funds, as much as possible, to deny them to the Continental Congress. That’s the rebel government,” he added needlessly.
“Ten thousand pounds current,” Sean said authoritatively. Dick nodded, seeming to accept it and approve of the sum. Ludford did not seem suspicious. But Selena had to suppress a gasp. The sum was but a sliver of their joint wealth. And, immediately, she perceived a new series of problems: bankers might readily convert a few stones to cash, but would not a seemingly unlimited supply of precious jewels arouse great suspicion? And when the extent of their fortune was discovered, would they not be in considerable danger from many sources? In a place in which ten thousand pounds was impressive, what would be the reaction to a million pounds?
Fear or respect or envy or hatred? Or all of them together?
She had the feeling someone was speaking to her.
“Name?” Ludford was saying sharply, as if he had already said it a couple of times.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Selena Bloodwell.”
“Maiden name?”
“MacPherson,” she said. It was hard to keep the tone neutral. Ludford did not look up. She could almost feel Sean’s relief.
“Place of birth? Father’s occupation?”
&
nbsp; “Coldstream, Scotland. Landowner.”
Ludford looked up at her. “Nobility?”
She nodded.
“You ought to have stayed home, ladyship,” Ludford said. “The rabble run things here. No place for a woman of breeding.”
Selena let that pass.
“Did you bring with you any assets belonging to your own family?”
“Why, no, I…”
“All right.” Ludford stopped writing. “Let me explain a few things to your friends, Dick. First, as to property. The two of you, man and wife, may make whatever mutual arrangements you wish, as far as your finances are concerned. But a woman cannot hold property in her own name. Remember that.”
Selena flared. Why, even at home in Scotland, if Father had not gotten into all that trouble, her own title to Coldstream would have been inviolate, even as a woman! What was this?
“…yes, those so-called democrats say they’ll change it when they get power, but I doubt it. Now you, Mr. Bloodwell. When you own property in our community, you may vote. But not until then. So if you wish to participate in the affairs of the New York colony, I suggest you look to this…”
“I intend to. Immediately.”
Ludford stood. Interview concluded. It had gone very well, Selena thought.
“One more thing,” Ludford added, in a cautionary voice. “Yes?”
“These are critical times. We are in search of a master spy, who is apparently working directly from New York harbor. So I must tell you that, in addition to the uniformed soldiers who are serving as police during the military action, I have my own plain-clothed man watching the city and I have sent for the best treason detector in England.”
“Yes?” Sean asked again.
“For your own protection,” Ludford said. “Until you get settled. One or another of these men will look out for you. You may not be aware of them, but they’ll be there.”
Sean nodded courteously, but he and Selena understood at once. They would be watched. Now she understood the uneasiness that had pervaded Fraunces Tavern on the previous evening, when Ludford had dined there with Lord Howe.
Riding in the cab back into the business district, Selena fought to keep her anger under control. It would not do for Dick to perceive in her behavior any hint of rebelliousness or ingratitude. He had been watching her closely in Ludford’s office, and already she thought he might have developed suspicions about her. But to be spied upon by plain-clothed operatives! And some horrible man from England was arriving to hunt traitors…
“Tell you what,” Dick Weddington offered. “Sean, let me drop you at the bank and then take Selena over to the waterfront to look at what the housing market has to offer. We can meet for lunch, and this afternoon you and I can devote ourselves to Bloodwell-Weddington Enterprises. I’ll turn the harbor over to my assistant, Grimsby.”
“That is very kind of you. And Selena can spend a little time with our daughter…”
“Oh, Sean. Davina is fine. We’ve just arrived…”
“Yes,” he said, “but it’s a new place and…”
“She’ll be fine,” Selena maintained. “I’d like to participate when the two of you…”
“Not this time,” Sean said. “You take care of Davina. You’ll be a participant in everything. Don’t you worry.”
She let the issue drop for the time being. It was silly to become overwrought because of the plans for one afternoon, but Ludford, damn him, had managed to upset her with his mention of property and voting, too. Had this information affected Sean in some subtle manner? Those jewels and the wealth they represented were blood money! She had risked her life to get them. She accepted the fact, of course, that the MacPhersons bore a responsibility for the loss of Sean’s early fortune. But they were partners now. Davina would get on quite nicely with Traudl. Sean was being too solicitous and protective. There was business to be attended to, and the road to Scotland had to be paved.
Weddington dropped Sean at a busy corner near the bank building, which was a stone structure three stories high. In the daytime, the business district was swarming with people on the move.
“Good-bye,” he called, and then snapped the reins at the bays. “Your husband is going to make much progress in this country,” he said to Selena.
“I think so.”
They rode in silence for a while, then Dick asked:
“Something happened, didn’t it?”
“What? What are you talking about…?”
“It’s all right,” he soothed. “You’re with a friend. A closer friend than you yet know. You see, if my judgment is any good, I believe we share a considerable number of opinions and attitudes.”
What did he mean? Was he trying to trick her into revealing her true feelings? What did he suspect? Was he one of the plain-clothed agents Ludford had mentioned?
“No, something happened, didn’t it? Why did you leave your country? Did you have to? And how did you get to India?”
“You certainly ask a lot of questions…”
With frightening abruptness, Dick sawed the reins, and the horses almost reared as the bits cut into their mouths. Instantly, they were off the main street that led down to the waterfront, and moving at a brisk, rackety pace through something that resembled an alley. Weddington jerked the reins again, and turned onto a side street. Someone leaped at Selena from a space between two buildings and in an instant had jumped into the cab beside her. The thought of abduction flashed through her mind, and she lifted her arms to strike at the intruder. He caught them easily and held her firmly, but without hurting her. Dick laughed.
“You boys should do as well against Howe,” he said.
“We shall,” smiled the man who had joined them. “We certainly shall.”
He was quite young, fair, and very attractive. In spite of his youth, his voice was cultivated, touched by easy assurance. His eyes revealed high intelligence, authority, and great cleverness. He dropped Selena’s arms.
“I was just telling Selena that she’s among friends.”
The young man nodded. “So she is, if you say so. But with her beauty, I’m sure she would be accepted in company far more elegant than ours.”
Selena looked at him more closely. It was not only the flattery. He really was magnetic. In spite of herself, without wanting to, she felt her body responding to his closeness.
“But perhaps we shall meet at a better time and place,” he was saying to her. Then, quickly, to Dick: “What have you?”
“They expect the general to move against Boston. What news from the field?”
“No, he’s turning at Peekskill in November, and moving south. I’m leaving New York. I’ll join the staff for the duration. Too many people are looking for me here.”
“Have you anything we can count on? For morale?”
“I don’t know for certain. But there is talk of an attack to the south. In New Jersey. Probably around Christmas.”
Weddington was enthusiastic. “What a surprise that would be! A Christmas attack! The British stack arms and drink themselves into a groggy stupor when the end of the year comes around…”
Selena could not quite believe what she was hearing. Weddington had said “the British” as if he were not one of them…
“We’ve a long way to go, from Albany to Trenton, so don’t build hopes too high. Anything might happen. The trick, as he explains it, is to avoid a fight until you are certain that it can be won. I suppose we ought to take our own advice.”
He laughed then, and she heard in it a touch of Royce Campbell’s spirit and confidence, with just a hint of invincibility. They reached the end of the street, and, as suddenly as he had come, the young man leaped out of the cab and was gone down the street.
“Good,” Dick said to her. “Howe thinks he’s moving north toward Boston, and already he’s planning a maneuver to turn the army south…”
“What are you talking about?” Selena demanded. “Who’s ‘he’?”
“Washington, of cour
se. And in a week or so he’s going to have himself one superb adjutant.”
“You mean that…that young man who just…in an army?” She spoke a bit more vehemently than necessary, still disturbed by the physical effect the “young man” had had upon her.
Weddington laughed again. “Alex can do anything he sets his mind to. Last year, and himself just a student at King’s College, he literally galvanized the Continental Congress with his theories on government and finance. I see that you were attracted to him.”
“I was…I was no such thing!”
“Don’t be alarmed. It’s natural. All women respond to him like that. It makes his friends, myself included, a bit envious, I’m afraid.” His voice took on a serious tone. “I wish he would curb his penchant for womanizing, though. I’m quite sure it’ll be the cause of Alex’s downfall, sooner or later.”
“Alex?” she asked, thinking that if a man of only twenty years was to serve as an aide to the rebels’ top general, their cause must be tattered indeed.
“Alexander Hamilton,” Dick said. “Born in shady circumstances in the West Indies. He means to have as much wealth and power as anyone, and he’s a democrat besides.” He paused a moment. “I think he’s a democrat,” he added. “What did you think of him?”
“I was just thinking that boys who barely shave cannot possibly hope for victory.”
“And how old are you?” he asked with a grin.
She was startled by her own response: twenty, and to remember all she had lost, all she had been through, and all she had endured to reach this place of comparative safety…
“Twenty. Almost, anyway,” she said aloud.
“You see?” he said complacently.
Flames of Desire Page 46
