Chapter 15

"Jock!" Adam crossed the market square for a third time and waved to the Scotsman. They'd searched the streets and taverns of Annapolis for over an hour without success. It was as though Rebecca had vanished; no one remembered seeing her. "Damn it to hell, Jock. Where can she be?" Adam's face showed the strain of his concern. "Are you certain it was she you saw?"

Jock grimaced. "How many times do ye intend to ask me that? Ye must take me for a bigger fool than ay am to think ay'd spend me free evenin' huntin' fer a lass what wasna' lost. She saw me, all right, saw me and lost me, quick as ye can wink an eye. She's a sly one. No wonder we're chasing our tails in a circle. It's like huntin' a shadow."

"Or an Indian." Adam pushed back an unruly lock of brown hair. "It's late, too late even for Rebecca's devilment. Something's happened to her; I know it."

Jock scanned the fast-emptying streets. Most of the merrymakers were gone; only a few knots of men remained. The stalls were closed and shuttered, the vendors with their trays of hot food and drink noticeably absent. The market was strangely quiet, with only an occasional burst of drunken laughter or a loud word to break the silence. The only woman in sight was a gray-haired farm wife attempting to settle her rather tipsy husband on the saddle of a patient mule.

"Ye don't suppose she took off bock to the savages, do ye?" Jock arched a sandy eyebrow. "Could be we're hunting for the lass here, and she's off to the wilderness."

"No." Adam shook his head. "She wouldn't do that, not without letting me or her grandfather know. She gave her word to stay until next winter, and I don't think she'd break it."

"Want to try the taverns again? There's a new one on the hill we didna' try."

"No, she'd know it's the first place we'd look." He kicked at a broken flask. "Maybe we should go back to Kentwood and see if she's there."

"And if she's noot?" Jock leaned against a mooring post at the edge of the water. "She's already gained a few hours on us. If she be in trooble, as ye think, she may not have another one t' spare. The trouble is, ye been thinkin' like Adam Rourke. Me grandsir always said that if ye want to catch a fox, ye got to think like a fox. Now, what do ye suppose yer vixen would want to see or do in Annapolis on Fleet Night?"

"Damn it, Jock, how in hell would I know? There's no logic to her. She thinks like a Shawnee squaw."

"Then ye got to think like an Indian squaw. Dinna' they all go for bright beads and—" A grin spread across Jock's freckled face. "Ay know who we havena' asked."

Puzzled, Adam followed Jock back across the market square to the front of a brick building where a one-legged man was slumped against the doorstep, snoring loudly. Curled up next to him was a small animal. "The monkey man?" Adam said skeptically. "What's he going to—"

"We willna' know until we ask, will we?" Jock grabbed the sailor's shoulder and shook it roughly. He moaned and threw up an arm, dislodging the monkey from his warm nest and sending the little creature into a chattering rage. Teeth bared, the monkey threw himself the length of his chain and delivered a volley of shrieking simian insults. The sailor opened his eyes, belched loudly, and peered at them suspiciously.

"What do ya want, ya rascals? If yer thieves, ye've come to the wrong man. Me and the monk 'ave drunk ever drop 'is coin would give us. There's nothin' ta steal and nothin' ta beg, lessen' yer after me oak leg. Be off wi' ye and let an honest man sleep off 'is pint, afore I call the watch!"

Adam grabbed him by the shirtfront and lifted him off the ground. "Hold your tongue, sailor, until you've something worthwhile to say. We've no wish to steal from you. We're looking for a woman. We know she was here in the market tonight. If you've seen her, we want to know it."

"A woman, is it? Why didn't ya say so?" the man sputtered. "Put me down afore I have the monk rip yer leg off. 'E's a vicious beast when 'roused." Cautiously, Adam lowered the sailor until his good foot hit solid earth. "Wenches aplenty I seen. Why should I give a cook's biscuit about yours? There's nice ones to be found at the Merry Widda, so I hear. Go get one o' them and leave an old salt to 'is sleep."

"It's not just any lass we be lookin' for," Jock said. "It's me wife. The darlin's been steppin' out on me, and ay mean to catch her at her sport. There's coin in it for ye if ye tell us true. If you know nothin'"—Jock shrugged—"then it's sorry I be for troublin' yer sleep. You can have the copper just the same. But if ye did see her, and I'd guess a man like yerself would have good eyes fer what's happenin' around him, then I'd take it as a personal favor if ye'd tell me." He dug into his pocket and held up a coin.

The monkey scrambled up the man's wooden leg and began to pull at his pigtail. "Belay that, ya heathen beasty!" the sailor cried and swatted at it. "Been wi' me so long, 'e takes 'vantage, 'e does." He sniffed loudly and wiped at his bleary eyes. "Well? I ain't got the sight. What do yer wench look like?"

The sailor listened while Jock gave a description of Rebecca and what she'd been wearing when he'd last seen her. "She be ah saucy one," Jock added. "And green as bilge-water. She's led a country life and could be hoodwinked by a canny tongue or a handsome face."

The sailor paused a long moment, then spat into the dust. "Aye, the saucy one. I seen 'er. She come to see the monk dance. Paid too." He rubbed at a scraggly chin. "Most don't, ya know. Most watches the monk, then slips away like grease. Oh, I seen 'er all right, more'n once I seen 'er."

"And last?" Adam said impatiently. "Where did you see her last?"

The man cackled. "Green as bilgewater, eh? If I'd'a knowed that, maybe me and the monk woulda' tried to buy 'er a pint." Adam took a step forward menacingly, and the sailor hurriedly continued. "Saw her last right there." He pointed. "At the dock. Fer a green one, she didn't do bad for herself. Had herself a ship's officer in tow."

Jock flipped him the coin. "Which ship? Do ye know?" His spirits sank. If Rebecca had boarded one of the ships, he knew full well what her fate had to be. God willing, they could get her off alive.

"Aye. I know right enough," the sailor answered. "But it'll cost the two of ya another copper to find out."

"You bastard," Adam said.

Jock stepped in front of him and slipped the sailor another coin. "Me friend has a short temper. Ye'd best tell what ye know before he wrings yer monkey's neck and throws ye to the fishes."

The man shoved the money deep inside his clothing and chuckled. "'Tis the Constant, anchored off there. Carried her out in the captain's own skiff, they did. But they've a long voyage ahead. You'll not get 'er back till ever' man, boy, an' sailmaker 'as 'ad 'is turn." He called after them as Jock and Adam turned toward the harbor. "Ya'd be better t' do as I said and get yerself a fresh 'un from the Widda's stock. Yer wench is gonna be too wore out t' please you or yer friend."

Drunken laughter echoed in their ears as they searched along the dock for a boat. "Why in God's name would she go with a sailor?" Adam's voice was harsh with worry.

"She coulda' been forced or drunk," Jock offered, almost as concerned about Adam as he was for the girl. Adam was near the breaking point; if he lost his temper, he was capable of almost anything. Jock had seen it happen only once before in all the years he'd known him, but once was enough for a lifetime. "It might be better if we notified the high sheriff. Ye don't think it's a bit much fer the two of us to take on a whole ship's crew?"

"Stay here, if you're afraid." Adam climbed down a ladder and began to untie the lines on a small skiff. "I can't wait that long, Jock. I'd like to have you at my back, but do as you think right."

"Ye'll see the both of us in hell, and where will that get yer lass?" the Scotsman grumbled as he joined Adam in the boat. "Ay've nothing but me wee dirk, an' ay'll wager yer not armed a'tall."

"Just row."

The sound of the water lapping against the bow of the tiny skiff echoed off the hulls of the larger vessels as they passed between them. The black water was as smooth as glass, and not a breeze stirred. Other than the creaking of wood and sail and the steady scrape of the oarlocks, Adam heard nothing but the rasp of his own breathing.

The moon shone round and golden, a merciless eye; the gleaming light illuminated the harbor and ships and cast dark shadows on the water. Adam saw the captain's skiff nestled beside the Constant as clearly as if it were full day. He motioned silently to Jock, and they altered course, putting the Constant between them and the skiff with the sailors in it. They brought their own boat close to the side of the large merchant vessel.

Jock looked at Adam expectantly. "Now what, laddie? Ay doot they'll invite us aboard for tea an' crumpets."

Adam ignored the sarcasm, straining his ears for any sound of a woman's screams. There was only silence; not even a human voice broke the gentle rhythm of the tide. Was she already dead? Lying at the bottom of the river? Pain knifed through Adam, a pain so intense and real that tears welled in his eyes. She can't be dead. The lump grew in his throat as the image of Rebecca descending the great staircase at Kentwood formed in his mind. No wonder she had dazzled the eyes and hearts of every man in the room. Her bewitching allure had been more than physical beauty; her provocative aura had a timeless quality that seemed as ageless as Eve.

"Adam." Jock nudged him. "If ye've any brilliant ideas, let's hear 'em noo."

Adam blinked, taking a deep breath to clear his head. The numbing fear must not keep him from thinking rationally. She's alive. I know it. She must be!

"Damn your eyes, Adam!" Jock whispered. "What are we to do?"

"How many are in the skiff?" Adam stared as water droplets dripped from the end of his raised oar. He would believe she was alive until he saw her body. And any man who had harmed her would think hell a mercy when he was done with him. "I saw two." Jock nodded. "Two, then," Adam murmured, half to himself. "We'll have to get past them before we board the ship. Try not to kill any of them. I don't want a charge of murder against us... not yet, at least."

Jock's hands tightened on his oar as they pushed off from the side of the Constant and let the tide carry them toward the stern. As they rounded the ship and began to row toward the spot where they had seer the skiff, he cursed under his breath. The skiff was gone, and the ladder hung in place. He grinned at Adam and rowed hard for the ladder. There didn't seem to be a living soul in sight. "The luck o' fools," he said in disbelief. "Where's the watch?"

"Do we care?"

"It's been me experience that a mon's luck holds just so far."

Adam's feet had just touched the deck and Jock was coming over the rail when they were seen. "Who goes there?" The man Falk stepped from the shadows. "Avast!"

Adam faced him squarely, fully aware of the belaying pin clutched in Falk's massive hand. "Where's the girl?"

"Arrrg!" The seaman lunged toward Adam swinging the weapon in a deadly arc. Adam sidestepped him and drove a fist against his jaw. The blow rocked the sailor, but he recovered and brought the belaying pin up sharply to jab at Adam's middle. Jock circled behind the sailor and dove at his legs.

A second sailor ran toward them, shouting for help; Jock blocked his path. "We want the lass!" he cried. "Hand her over or there'll be hell to pay!" The blade of a cutlass glinted in the moonlight, and Jock cursed under his breath as he drew his knife from its scabbard. Warily he backed away until he felt the solid bulk of the mast behind him. "Yer makin' a mistake," Jock warned the sailor, as his foot lashed out, catching the man in the groin. The sailor doubled over, and Jock struck him once with his fist and took his cutlass, leaving the man rolling on the deck.

Adam winced as the belaying pin struck his shoulder. Pain shot down his arm, numbing the fingers of his left hand as he seized the club with his right. Falk struck at his face, and they went down together, rolling across the deck. Falk's teeth closed on Adam's wrist. Adam slammed him against the deck, yanking the belaying pin from his grasp and knocking him senseless just as two more sailors leaped at him.

Adam rose to one knee, barely avoiding a vicious kick from the closest man. Jock suddenly appeared and brought the second crashing to the deck with the flat of the cutlass across his head. The remaining sailor backed away, turned, and ran toward the stern of the ship calling out an alarm.

"Thanks." Adam wiped at the trickle of blood running down from the cut over his eye.

"I'd venture we have aboot two minutes before we're faced wi' more angry laddies than we'll know what to do wi'," Jock said.

"I'm not leaving here without her."

"Then find her and let's get the hell off this ship! Ay've nay wish to swing for piracy." Jock gripped the cutlass tighter. "Ay'll hold the deck as long as ay can wi' this. The master's cabin's behind us. Try that, and fer God's sake be quick aboot it."

* * *

Rebecca's heart skipped a beat as the latch rose and the hatch to the captain's cabin rattled. The bolt held as someone applied force from the other side.

"Rebecca? Are you in there?" an urgent voice called. "It's Adam!"

"Adam?" She dashed toward the hatch, then threw herself sideways as wood splintered and Adam crashed into the cabin.

"Rebecca? Are you all—?" Slowly he got to his feet and gazed around the room. "What the—" He stopped in mid-sentence, stunned by the sight of a man suspended upside down, dangling from a rope tied to an overhead beam and wearing only his breeches.

"Help me, for God's sake," the man moaned. "She's crazy."

"Rebecca, what—?"

"I'm very happy to see you, Adam," Rebecca said. "I did not know how I would get off this boat and back to the land. There are many sailors out there." She motioned to the door.

"Get me down! Please," Roger begged.

"Silence, English-manake," she ordered. "I tell you, if you make noise, you die quickly." Rebecca jabbed at his chest with the handle of the knife she had snatched from the desk, spinning him slowly about and exposing the back of his head.

Adam stared. The hair on the back of his head had been sawed off close to the skin, leaving ragged patches and bald spots. The officer's face was ashen, his pupils dilated with fear, his cheeks wet from crying. "What have you done?" Adam demanded.

"I have done nothing yet," she answered hotly. Only lifted his scalp. "Not yet..." Her voice trailed off menacingly. "He tricked me. I was a fool to trust an Englishman. I will not do so again. He said he would show me his boat, and he wanted only to share pleasures of the mat." She made a low sound of disgust. "I do not believe he is even captain of this boat."

The echo of steel against steel rang through the cabin, and Adam grabbed Rebecca's hand. "We don't have time to stand here and argue. Come with me!" They ran out on the deck to find Jock holding off two more sailors, both with cutlasses.

"I've got her," Adam cried. Keeping Rebecca behind him, he circled away from the fighting and moved quickly toward the ship's rail. "Climb down the rope ladder," he ordered Rebecca. "There's a small boat below." The sailor swung at his knees and he sidestepped the blow. A boy ran across the deck shouting for reinforcements. Rebecca hesitated. "I said go!" Adam shouted. "Jock! Come on!" He picked Rebecca up in his arms and tossed her over the side, then dove after her. Jock followed them seconds later, feet first.

Rebecca came up spitting water; Adam was already climbing into the skiff. He untied the line and pushed off from the ship, ignoring the shouts and curses from the crew as he helped Rebecca and Jock into the boat.

Shivering, Rebecca curled into a ball as the two men rowed for shore. Adam was very angry; she could tell by the way he looked at her, by the way he did not even speak to her. His hands had not been gentle when he picked her up, and he had pulled at her roughly as he was getting her out of the water.

She realized that coming to the ship had been a terrible mistake. She had put Adam's life in danger and also that of his friend Jock. Shame seeped through her, and tears welled up in her eyes. "I am sorry," she whispered. "I did not mean to cause trouble for you."

"When do you ever do anything else?" The shouting had caused alarm on the other ships, and lanterns were bobbing on their decks.

"Save yer energy and row," Jock warned. "Ay want to be away from the dock afore the high sheriff arrives. Ye two can fight later."

Neither man spoke until the bow of the skiff nosed against the port side of the Bradford plantation sloop. "It might be best if I leave ye and the lass here," Jock suggested. "Ay can draw off the hounds by playing the fox a bit. There's nowhere ye can take her and not be noticed, all dripping wet like ye are."

Adam grunted assent, pulled in his oars, and lay them in the bottom of the boat before shaking Rebecca's shoulder. "Come along. We'll dry you off and try to figure out how to get you back to Kentwood without being seen."

Rebecca allowed him to help her quickly onto the sloop. He sounded tired. She did not believe his anger had faded; it was only lying in wait for something to trigger another flare-up. She watched silently as Jock rowed the skiff slowly away into the darkness.

"Go below."

"I said I was sorry."

The sound of angry voices drifted across the water, and a bobbing light came from the direction of the Constant. Rebecca tried to keep her teeth from chattering with cold. One moccasin had been lost in the water, and the other was squishy wet. She pulled it off and tossed it into the water; it sank without a sound.

"I said go below. Do you want your grandfather's name dragged into this mess?" Adam gave her a push toward the open hatch. "It's a wonder there's no hue and cry for you on the streets already."

The sloop's small cabin was intended as a shelter from Chesapeake Bay storms rather than to provide luxurious comfort. Rebecca turned her back to Adam in the darkness and began to strip off her wet clothes. "I said I was sorry. What more do you want? How was I to know he was lying?"

"He said he wanted to show me his boat, and I wanted to see it. I have never been on a great ship." The gown caught, and she yanked it over her head, sending a button flying. Adam's silence was worse than his yelling. "I did not really hurt him. He was a coward, and there is no honor in besting a weak enemy."

Adam's voice, when it came, was harsh. "You expect me to believe that you went out there not knowing what he wanted? Even you aren't that naive." He threw down his shirt and began to dry himself with a woolen blanket. "It wouldn't have been just the one, Rebecca. When he finished with you, there would have been another and then another. They'd have killed you. My God, woman! Don't you have any common sense at all?"

"No! I didn't," she sobbed angrily. "Among the Shawnee, a man asks."

"A man just walks up to a perfectly strange woman and says, 'Do you want to sleep with me?' Now you take me for a fool!"

"It's true." She turned toward him. The moonlight spilling through the porthole spread a liquid trail of glittering magic across the rough cabin. "Sometimes." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And sometimes a woman goes to a man and says, 'Will you share joy with me?'" She took one step toward Adam and then another. "Ki-te-hi. I did not wish to share pleasures with that Englishman. I do not know your games. My moccasins know only my own path." She lay a trembling hand on his bare chest. "Adam, will you share joy with me? I want no man but you."

"Rebecca, don't," he pleaded. "What do you think I'm made of?"

"You are flesh, Adam, as I am." Her fingers moved up his chest and locked behind his neck, pulling his head down so close that he could feel her breath against his lips. "Adam," she murmured. "I love you."

A moan died in his throat as he met her lips with his own, and his arms went around her, crushing her against him. One hand intertwined in her damp hair as the other arm swept her off her feet.

Hot desire surged through Rebecca as Adam placed her gently down across the narrow bunk. His body pressed against her; the corded muscles tensed as their kiss deepened.

His hands moved over her skin, adding to the fire that raged in her blood. Each breath she drew seemed to bring him closer. His mouth left hers to caress the corners of her lips and then to tantalize the softness of her throat and shoulders. Her name on his lips brought exquisite shudders of delight that intensified as his warm, seeking tongue found her nipples and licked them until they swelled with excitement. The rough scratch of his stubble blended with the velvet smoothness of his tongue against her breast to produce a magic surge of sensation in her loins. Her limbs grew weak as a wonderful feeling possessed her body. Again and again, she whispered his name as she traced hot circles of moisture on his chest with her tongue, then sought out the hard nub of his male nipples to tease and caress. Her nails dug into his broad shoulders, and he shuddered with pleasure as his own desire quickened.

This is wrong, Adam's conscience cried, even as his hand moved to savor the feel of Rebecca's silken belly. I swore I wouldn't let it happen again, but I can't help it. He had no right to love her, no right to claim possession of the soft, sweet flesh of her inner thighs and taste the faint salt flavor of her skin. No right, and yet every right. She was his! He would have killed to get her back, and he would kill any man who tried to claim her!

A low, sensual cry escaped Rebecca's lips, and she wrapped her legs around his and felt the proof of his aroused passion press against her burning skin. Adam's hands were trembling as he pulled away the last of her wet undergarments.

"I want to touch you," he said with a moan. "Please, my darling, let me touch you."

Joyfully, she opened to his gentle touch, welcoming his lips on hers, feeling the overpowering need to join with him body and soul as they had joined before. "I want to touch you, too," she whispered. "I want to give you pleasure as you give me." In answer, his powerful hand closed over hers and guided her to stroke and squeeze the source of his own male ardor.

"I'll never let you go," Adam said breathlessly. "Never! You're a fever in my blood, Rebecca."

It was true. She wasn't the woman he would have picked if he'd had a choice. She was too wild, too unpredictable. But he had no choice; she had become his life, and without her he would have nothing.

And you in mine, English-manake, she thought. But nothing is forever. She could not promise forever. His world was not hers. "We have tonight," she murmured. "This moment."

The ringing of a bell came loudly from the dock. "Fire!" a voice shouted. "Fire in the market!"

"Adam." Rebecca struggled to sit upright, but he pinned her with his body.

"Hush, girl, it's all right. It's only Jock. He promised to cause a distraction. He'll do no great harm. Lie still and let me love you." His lips on hers quieted her halfhearted protest. "Shhh." They clung together in the darkness of the cabin as Adam whispered outrageous nonsense, in her ear and ran his hands over the curve of her buttocks.

"They will find us," she whispered.

"They won't look for us," he countered. "They'll be too busy keeping the fire from spreading to the town." He rose on one elbow and bent to take a rosy nipple between his lips and suck gently at it, creating ripples of excitement that washed through her body like sweet waves of warm honey.

He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. "I like to look at you." His voice was thick with desire. "You're so beautiful, Rebecca... so very beautiful." He kissed the hollow of her neck, marveling at the faint throb of her pulse and the fresh woman scent of her silken skin.

"I've never met a woman like you," he murmured, winding a strand of her dark hair around his finger and tasting it with the tip of his tongue. "I think about you day and night." He placed a feather-light kiss below her ear, and then another and another. "I want you," he breathed heavily. "I want you...."

Their lips met again, joined in an urgent kiss of soul searing passion. Rebecca clung to him, pressing her body ever closer, wanting to be part of him. "Now," she pleaded. "Now..." Eagerly she received him, meeting the powerful thrusts with equal fervor, letting the wild glory of the wanting and giving carry her far above the earth. And then, when the glory exploded into a firestorm of falling stars, wrapped tightly in each other's arms they drifted slowly back to earth and kissed again, a slow, sweet kiss of exquisite fulfillment.

"Never leave me, darling," Adam whispered hoarsely. "Never."

Rebecca drew a long, shuddering breath and laid her head on his chest, listening to the cadence of his heartbeat. I love this man. I do. But even now, lying in this Englishman's arms, satiated with his love, her spirit was troubled. He wanted her. But he did not want Alagwa Aquewa, Star Blanket; he wanted Rebecca Bradford, the English woman. He wanted something she could not give. If she surrendered and gave up the dream of returning to her people for this man, she would have only him. What if Adam tired of her?

She had her grandfather, but he was old. She had read death in his eyes. When he was gone, there would be no one but Adam Rourke, and she would be a stranger in a strange land.

"I want to tell you about Otter, my first husband," she whispered.

"No." Adam's voice was rough. "I don't want to—"

"Shhh." Her fingers touched his lips. "It is not as you think. I did not lie to you, A-dam. No man but you has ever shared pleasures with me, but I was married. Let me tell you about the Otter. He was a good man, and I think you would have liked each other."

"You're still in love with him," Adam said accusingly.

Her laughter was soft in the darkness. "I am, and I will always love Otter, but not as you understand." Rebecca pulled her legs under her and sat up. "Now you must listen. It is not good manners to interrupt a storyteller."

Adam swallowed hard. Rebecca's hair fell over her naked breasts like a dark wave, and he was overcome with the desire to possess her again. Moonlight touched her cheekbones and bare shoulders, lending mystery to her lilting voice and soft, regular breathing. Trembling, Adam reached out to cup a full, rounded breast and then to kiss the swollen bud. "No stories," he whispered. "Later I'll listen... not now."

Her arms closed around his neck, and she buried her face in the thick beaver brown hair, chuckling as she moved seductively against him. "But you said this was wrong," she teased. "Would you lead a helpless woman into wrongdoing?" Somehow she slid into his lap, giggling louder as she felt his rising manhood. "I think it is very late," she murmured. "Shouldn't we go back to Kentwood?"

"Witch."

"But Adam..."

"Later, woman."

"A-dam!"

Laughing, they came together in a joyful joining of mind and body, a joining that lasted until the first pale light of dawn began to spread across the waters of the Chesapeake. It was a dawn Rebecca knew she would remember as long as she drew breath.