The Raider (Montgomery/Taggert 9)

He put his hand on hers. “Please take it, Jess. And I brought oranges for the children. They’re there in the chest under the dress.”

“Oranges?” Jess whispered and she remembered something that had happened when she was a little girl. She’d always thought Adam Montgomery was the most fascinating of men. Even when he was just a tall, long-legged boy, she used to follow him. Once, when she’d been hurrying after him across the wharf, she’d fallen and scraped her knee. She had had no idea Adam even knew her name, much less that he knew she was toddling after him. But he’d turned, picked her up, set her on a post, examined her knee, then smiled at her and said, “I’ll walk slower.” That night he’d sent Alex over to deliver a precious pineapple just for her.

“Jess?” Alex asked. “Are you all right?”

She looked up at him and smiled. “You might make a Montgomery after all.”

“Might?” he asked, his eyes widening. “I see, as compared to one of my illustrious brothers.”

“Now, Alex…” she began, seeing that she’d managed to make him angry again. “I’ll accept the dress and the oranges. Thank you for them.”

“Shall we return?” he said stiffly.

Jessica hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings and, as compensation, she took his arm while they walked.

He turned to smile at her and put his hand over hers for just a moment.

“Don’t worry, Alex, you’ll get someone. You’ll see. I’ll talk to Eleanor and we’ll see who we can find. I’m sure that between your father’s wharf space and that big house of his we’ll find a pretty young woman who doesn’t mind fat, bald men. Of course we may have to search in the south, since we don’t have a chance with the women who’ve met Adam and Kit. But we’ll find someone. Don’t you worry.” She smiled up at him in the darkness, but he had his head turned away and he didn’t say another word all the way back to the house. He handed Jess the wooden chest and politely, and rather coolly, Jess thought, took his leave.

The next day, Eleanor insisted Jessica remain at home again. The talk of the Raider was still strong and there was much speculation as to who he was. Jessica’s name was mentioned frequently. Eleanor didn’t tell her sister that Jessica’s name was always accompanied by laughter. The pretty girl had become a source of amusement.

By nightfall, Jessica was anxious to get out of the house. She kept imagining the bottom rotting off her boat or English soldiers being ordered to seize it. Eleanor said she was flattering the boat, that only the rats seemed to want the vessel.

Jessica left the house to empty a trough of dirty water and for a moment stood on the edge of the forest and breathed the cool night air.

Suddenly, an arm went around her waist and a hand covered her mouth.

“Don’t move, don’t make any noise.”

She’d have known that accented voice anywhere. She shook her head and tried to get rid of his hand.

“I’ll take my hand away if you’ll not scream. You could bring the English down on both of us if you scream.”

Jessica didn’t like to agree to his blackmail, but his big hand was cutting off her breath. She nodded.

He removed his hand, she took a deep breath and, in one motion, he turned her around so that her back was hard against a tree, one of his legs wrapped securely around hers and one arm pinning her head and hair against the tree. His other hand was free to roam.

“What do you want?” she gasped, looking into his eyes behind the mask. “Why are you here? What have the English done now?”

“I came only to see you,” the Raider said, moving his body so that it touched hers. His free hand was on her waist, his fingers and thumb caressing her ribs. “I watch you, Jessie. I think about you.”

“I don’t think about you,” she said and tried to move away from him, but she was pinned too securely.

He leaned forward and kissed her neck just below her ear. “You never think of me? You don’t remember the time we were in the blackberry patch?”

“No,” she lied, feeling herself sinking into the tree as his warm lips roamed all over her neck.

His hand encircled her neck, his thumb touching just under her chin, then his long, sensitive fingers traveled downward, his fingertips moving under the scarf that filled the low, square neck of the dress.

“Is this a dress to replace the one I tore?” he asked, his fingers lightly caressing the round, soft tops of her breasts.

“Yes.” Her voice was hoarse and shallow as she felt his hand beginning to massage the back of her head.

“Where did you get it?”

“Alexander,” she whispered. His lips were traveling downward.

The Raider lifted his head to look at her. “I saw you two together in the dark. What is he to you?”