The next morning Elise dressed and left the room to join Drake downstairs for breakfast. Her cheeks heated when she recalled Drake’s tenderness as he’d made her his wife. She’d never felt more cherished. With a grateful heart she thanked the Lord for letting them find each other. It truly was a miracle when she considered their opposing circumstances.
Drake met her at the bottom of the stairs. The riding crop he held suggested he’d been to the stables. His billowy white shirt open at the neck revealed a hint of bronzed throat. His golden eyes searched her face with tender concern. “Hello, sweet. How do you fare this morn?”
“I’m most well,” she said, a little breathless. “And you, my dearest husband?”
His smile warmed her heart. He took her hands in his and brushed his lips across her knuckles in a gentle kiss. “I’ve never been happier. I knew you were the woman for me that first day we sailed for Charles Towne.”
“So soon?” she asked in surprise. “How did you know?”
He led her across the hall to the morning room and seated her at a table laden with fresh bread, cheese and fruit. “When a man’s been searching for his match as long as I have, he knows her the moment he spies her.”
The word spy sent a shiver of fear down her spine. Some of her merriment dimmed. A pessimistic voice in her head reminded her that Drake loved Elise Cooper, the ward of a Tory plantation owner, not Elise Cooper, the patriot spy. What would he do if he ever discovered her past as the Fox? Would he understand and move on with their lives, or would he see her treason to the crown as an unforgivable betrayal and set her aside?
“Elise?” Drake knelt on one knee beside her chair. “Did I say something wrong?”
Her gaze slipped to his face and his concerned frown. Thick dark lashes fringed his questioning eyes. The thought of losing him formed a painful lump in her throat. She cupped his cheek with her palm, determined to cast off the haunting questions and do her best to make him happy.
“No, you’ve said everything just right.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Good, because I have one more gift for you before we eat.”
“Another gift?” She ran her thumb over the back of the smooth wedding band he’d given her to mark their marriage. “But I don’t have one for you.”
He nuzzled her neck and nibbled her ear. “I want you, nothing else.”
Her gaze softened as she traced the sculpted line of his lower lip. “You really are the most wonderful man I’ve ever known.”
His eyes glowed with love. “Come, sweet, your gift is outside.” He held out a hand to her and led her down the wide hall and past the sitting rooms. She might as well have been floating, she felt so light and happy. He held the back door open as she emerged into an open-air courtyard of curved brick walkways and a circular center garden. Fresh, fragrant herbs, including her favorite, rosemary, perfumed the warm summer morning.
A stable stood across the courtyard some distance away, and the faint whinny of horses drifted across the expanse toward them. Drake led her onward. The earthy smell of horses and hay grew stronger the closer they came. Once inside, Drake lit a lantern, illuminating the stable’s spacious interior. Drake’s shiny new coach sat to the left. Huge bales of hay stood stacked to the beamed ceiling, and various articles of horse tack hung along the walls.
Drake’s pair of matched grays stood in individual stalls next to each other, but it was the bay gelding toward the back that brought tears of happiness to her eyes. “Freedom? You’re giving me Freedom?”
He shrugged fluently. “I know you love him. Seemed a bit of lunacy to leave him behind.”
Elise shrieked with joy and threw her arms around Drake’s neck, squeezing him tight.
Freedom whinnied and kicked at the door of his stall. She crossed the sandy floor and reached out to stroke his forehead. The onslaught of happy tears tickled her nose. “Hello, my dear friend. I thought I’d lost you.”
The horse nickered and pressed the side of his head into her palm.
Drake moved close behind her and settled his hands on her shoulders. “I believe he missed you, too.”
Elise melted into Drake’s embrace. “How did you convince Zechariah to sell him? When I tried to buy him, he wouldn’t hear of it.”
Drake kissed the top of her head, and stroked her hair. “You’re not as persuasive as I am, apparently.”
“Drake, how much—”
“Truth be told, Sayer seemed almost desperate to be rid of you. When I told him I refused to consider marriage without the horse included in the bargain, he seemed quite eager to part with the old boy.”
She gave him a watery smile and sniffed. “I couldn’t ask for a more perfect gift.”
“Then why the tears?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. Thank you,” she whispered, standing on tiptoes to give him a kiss. “Thank you with all my heart.”
“Isn’t Moira the most beautiful child you’ve ever seen?” Tabby chirped with maternal pride. “It’s hard to believe she’s seven weeks old.”
“Indeed, it is,” Elise said, cradling the Smiths’ new arrival. “Such wide blue eyes and what perfect, cherubic cheeks. She’s a darling. Don’t you agree, Prin?”
Prin turned from the window of Tabby’s parlor, where she’d been watching the quiet street. The blue-and-yellow striped curtains fluttered into place as she moved toward the unlit fireplace. “She’s sweet as maple sugar, that one. You and Mister Josiah should be peacock proud.”
“We are.” Tabby beamed. She scooped the baby from Elise’s arms and sat in a nearby rocking chair.
Elise leaned back on the settee and patted the seat next to her. “Come sit with me, Prin. There’s plenty of room for us both.”
When her sister joined her, Elise gently squeezed her hand in encouragement. She knew that along with feeling ill from her pregnancy, Prin longed for Kane. A cloud of melancholy followed her sister no matter how much she tried to be strong and act as if nothing were wrong.
“You know,” Tabby said to Elise, “you’ve been married nearly two months. Folks will be expecting you to be with child before too long.”
Elise’s cup clattered as she returned it to the saucer. “It’s too soon, surely.”
Tabby and Prin shared a telling glance.
“After weeks of marriage with your dazzling husband,” Tabby teased, “I can’t believe you’ve not considered the possibility.”
“I try not to think about it,” Elise said, her unease with the topic difficult to conceal. “I may not have a choice, but until I know Prin and I are completely out of danger, I’d rather not have to consider a babe.”
“That’s wise,” Tabby agreed as she ran a fingertip along her daughter’s cheek. “I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do to keep this precious girl from harm. But as you say, you may not have a choice.”
The discussion struck a chord of fear in Elise. If she became pregnant, Zechariah would have one more weapon in his arsenal against her. He’d used her love for Prin enough times in the past to convince her he wouldn’t be above using her child. She could hear his threats in her mind. “Elise,” he would say, “bring me this information or I may be forced to turn you over to the British. Think. What will your child do without his mother?”
“Elise?” Tabby intruded her troubling thoughts. “Is all well with you? Why, you look positively violent.”
“Do I?” She pasted on a smile. “I’m fine, really. Just a little tired.”
Her friend giggled. “Not been getting enough sleep, eh?”
Prin set her cup aside and studied Elise with concern. “Perhaps we should be headin’ home?”
“Don’t leave yet.” Tabby stood and placed her sleeping daughter in a cradle dressed with frills and white lace. “Zechariah will be arriving soon. He wishes to speak with you.”
Elise bit her lower lip. She’d been avoiding her spymaster and wished to continue in that vein. While at a dinner party a fortnight ago, she’d learned news that might be of interest to him, but her loyalty to Drake made her loath to share it. “Why didn’t you tell me, Tabby?”
“He asked me not to.” She tucked baby Moira in one of the blankets Elise had knitted for her. “I thought it strange, but then supposed there must be a reason.”
A light knock sounded on the door and a servant stepped through once Tabby called him in.
“Ma’am, Mr. Sayer is here to see you.”
“Thank you, Henry. Show him through.”
A few moments later, Zechariah waddled in. After he performed a shallow bow, Tabby motioned him into a chair, which barely held his girth once he rolled into it.
“Prin,” Tabby said. “Let’s you and I take the baby and our tea tray to the garden. The oaks will give us plenty of shade to escape this dreadful heat.”
Prin waited until Elise nodded her approval before picking up the tray and following Tabby into the hall. Henry followed and closed the door.
Zechariah studied Elise, his gaze as sharp as a well-honed dagger. He leaned forward and rested his hands on the ball of his walking stick. “You look fit enough, girl. Marriage seems to agree with you.”
She folded her hands in her lap and held his gaze without flinching. “Yes, it does.”
“That lad you married is treating you well, then?”
“Very well indeed.”
There was a slight pause as Zechariah inspected his shoe’s square, brass buckle. “You may not believe this, m’dear, but I’ve been most concerned about you.”
Elise’s brow rose in cynical inquiry.
“You may think I enjoy manipulating your life, but such is not the case. I—”
“Forgive me, Zechariah, but I’ve been the subject of your machinations more times than I can count. You’ve conspired against me so often I find it hard to believe you have a true care for my welfare.”
“’Tis why I’m here, Elise. I have news you’ll wish to hear.” He tapped the tip of his walking stick against the floor, giving her time to snatch in several breaths. “Actually, I’ve come for two reasons today.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t come to call before now.”
“I might have, but you’ve been avoiding me since you wed. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. It’s a shame I had to trick Tabby into helping me or I doubt I’d be seeing you today.”
Elise reddened, but didn’t deny it.
Zechariah cleared his throat. “You’ve had ample time to retrieve information to aid the cause. I’m here to collect it.”
Elise jumped to her feet, her bountiful green skirt swirling as she swung toward the open window. “I have little to tell you.”
“Some is better than nil. Spit it out, and be quick about it. If you think to break our bargain I’ll be forced—”
“To call in the British,” she sneered with ferocious bite. She wondered if she’d ever be free of that particular threat. “I’ll have you know I do have news I’m willing to impart. Not because of your threat, but because contrary to what you suppose, I love this land as much as you. From the beginning, I would have freely shared the knowledge I gleaned, but you chose to dangle Prin’s freedom over my head and use threats to bend me to your will.”
“By what other means could I be sure—”
“Be quiet,” she snapped.
To her surprise, he fell back in his chair, sputtering and indignant, but eventually silent.
“Before I share what I’ve uncovered, I’m adding to our bargain.” She straightened her spine and thrust back her shoulders in a silent dare for him to refuse her. “I wish to purchase Kane from you.”
“Impossible.” The old man shook his head, setting his jowls to flapping.
“’Tis a simple transaction, why is it impossible? I’m willing to pay you double his worth.”
His gaze slunk to the floor. “I may have need of him yet.”
Elise narrowed her eyes, savvy to his ways enough to suspect he’d planned something reprehensible.
“You think I don’t know about him and Prin or the illegal marriage you arranged for them. But I assure you, girl, I know everything that happens on my plantation.”
She threw up her hands. “I can’t believe it! You intend to bargain with his freedom in order to bend me to your will at some future date?”
“I know you and your soft heart,” he admitted. “If Prin longed for him enough, you’d do whatever was required to get him for her.”
“You’re despicable.” Her upper lip curled in disgust. “Always playing with people’s lives as if they’re pieces in some game.”
“On the contrary. I’m just determined,” he said without remorse. “But that’s neither here nor there. You’ve mentioned you have news. I believe the war situation is desperate enough for extreme measures. My contacts tell me Washington is stalemated with Clinton in New York and Cornwallis is like a plague of fire weaving his way through Virginia. Share your information and I’ll have Kane, his freedom papers signed and sealed, sent to you this eve.”
Hope sparked in her chest. She lifted her chin. “How can I be certain?”
“You wound me, child. You may not like my methods, but when have I ever lied to you?”
He hadn’t that she knew of. “I have your word?”
“Aye.” He held out his palm. “You have it. Your information in exchange for Kane’s freedom.”
Wary, she shook his hand. “At dinner a fortnight ago, I heard it mentioned that General Clinton has called Cornwallis to leave the southern colonies altogether and aid him in New York. It seems Clinton fears Patriot forces plan to attack before the onslaught of winter.”
“It will take weeks for Cornwallis to march to New York.”
She shook her head. “No, he and his army are to wait in Yorktown for the British fleet to transport them north.”
Zechariah slapped his knee suddenly and hooted with excitement. “Do you know what this means, my girl? Lafayette is camped in Virginia. If I can send word to him and his army there, he can notify Washington and Rochambeau’s combined forces farther north. If the armies converge—”
“We might win a major battle this year.”
“God willing, we might capture Cornwallis’s whole army and win the war.” His eyes began to twinkle with excitement. He levered himself to his feet and made his way for the door. “Good day to you, Your Grace.” He grinned as he reached for the brass doorknob. “I knew wedding you off to Amberly would bring us a bout of luck.”
“Wait. You said you had two items to discuss with me. So far, we’ve spoken of just one.”
“Ah, yes, I forgot. The Fox is in trouble.”
“The Fox is dead,” she said adamantly. “He ceased to exist the day I married.”
Zechariah clamped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “That may be, but it seems he has a persistent admirer who refuses to let him rest in peace. Several months back I received reports that an individual was offering a reward for the Fox’s capture. At the time, I thought nothing of it. After all, who among the British wouldn’t like to see the Fox hang? But, a short time ago, just a few days before your marriage, in fact, it seems that original sum was tripled.”
“Tripled?” she asked curiously. “What was the original amount?”
He paused. “Five hundred pounds.”
“Five hundred? You must be jesting!”
“I wish I were, my dear, but there it is. Whoever is hunting you means serious business. Fifteen hundred pounds is enough to make any man consider.... Why, even I was tempted to turn you in for such a fortune.”
Elise dropped into a nearby chair.
“Don’t go all female on me, girl. You’ve lost every scrap of color. I’m not likely to do it, you know. At least, not without good reason.”
Robin Goss shivered in the moldy dampness of his warehouse cell. Rats squeaked in the dark, and their scurrying feet scratched along the wood floor. He bellowed in frustration as he strained against the rope around his wrists, but the dank rag in his mouth muffled the feral sound.
He cursed the day he’d found the woman’s traitorous letters in his carriage. His last remaining hope was that he would someday escape, hunt her down and make her pay.
A key rattled in the lock. Disgusted by the stab of excitement that lanced through him, he realized he’d been held in this pit long enough to appreciate the sight of any human face, even one of his hated captors.
The door swung wide. One of his kidnappers, the one he’d heard called “John,” entered carrying a lantern and tray of steaming food. A homespun mask covered his face. Black gloves protected his ham-sized hands. The smell of mustard greens, bacon and cornbread briefly cloaked the smell of rotting fish, making his mouth water.
“How’s our pris’ner, this fine night?” John snickered under his breath as he dropped the tray on the table. “I’m thinkin’ you must be hungry considerin’ I’m late this eventide.”
Robin tried to swallow. He was starving. His eyes followed the movement of the dishes as John laid them out on a rickety bench, the cell’s only piece of furniture.
John crouched before him and removed the gag. Robin heaved in a lungful of salty air. “Can I eat?” The words burned over his parched throat.
“’Course, but there’ll be no exercise tonight,” John said, untying the ropes that bound Robin’s wrists and ankles. “I’m wantin’ a pint before I head home to the missus.”
“Sorry to be such an inconvenience,” Robin muttered. “Let me go and I won’t bother you again.”
John grunted with laughter. “Don’t be daft.” His huge hand jabbed toward the food. “Now, eat up a’fore you lose your chance.”
Robin stood slowly, his leg muscles tight from sitting in one position on the hard floor all day. He eyed his captor, studying the big man, wondering, not for the first time, if he could take him in a fight.
“Don’t even think it,” John warned, patting the pistol that bulged in his pocket. “Matthew is waitin’ just outside the door. He’s armed heavier ’an me and hankerin’ to shoot himself a traitorous spy.”
“I’m not the traitor,” Robin sneered. “These colonies belong to King George. I’m doing my part to see they stay that way.”
John’s nostrils flared with obvious fury. “Well then, it does my heart good to know you’re tied up in here where you can’t do more damage. Now, eat the food and shut your stupid mouth! I got no patience for your Tory prattle.”
Robin shoveled the food with his fingers while he fumed. Each hearty mouthful fortified him a little more. He washed the meal down with the provided mug of ale. “I need to relieve myself,” he told John. John stretched and ambled toward the door. “I’ll count to thirty. You’d best be high and dry by then.”
Raising his hand in a mock salute, Robin waited for his captor to leave before he positioned himself by the door. Ole John had grown lax. He’d never left him untied and alone before. When his captor returned to bind him this time he was in for a nasty surprise. Once he escaped, Robin promised Captain Beaufort would get an earful.
“...twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.” John shouted as he burst through the door, his pistol at the ready.
Robin pounced from the corner. His arm wrapped around John’s thick neck, snapping it so quickly the man didn’t have a chance to cry out. John wilted to the floor, dragging Robin with him. The pistol bounced on the planks. Robin yanked his arm from around his captor’s neck, grabbed the pistol, and rolled to his feet.
Matthew burst into the room, brandishing his own weapon. Robin fired. Matthew yelped. When the smoke cleared, Matthew was on his knees, gasping for breath, a look of stunned horror on his ashen face.
Robin spared a moment to watch Matthew’s lifeblood drain from the hole in his chest. He couldn’t help smiling. He was free again after months of rotting in this pit.
Matthew slumped face-first to the floor. Robin stepped over the dead man and raced out the door.