The Raider (Montgomery/Taggert 9)

“We really aren’t children, you know,” she said quietly. “We’re adults and we have the intelligence to govern ourselves.”

“Jessie, you are talking treason.”

“Maybe, but I’ve heard rum

ors about things that are being said and written in the south. I thought that maybe if I could get hold of a few pamphlets, I could make the people of Warbrooke realize we’re not alone.”

“And how are you going to get these pamphlets? How do you distribute them without getting caught? How do you protect your family while you’re saving the country?”

“I don’t know,” she said angrily. “It’s just an idea. I haven’t worked out the details yet.”

“Maybe I could help,” he said softly.

As usual, Jess didn’t think before she spoke. “No, I get in more trouble helping you than I do alone. Maybe someone will give me a ride on a ship leaving port. I can—”

It had taken a while for the Raider’s temper to reach the boiling point, but now it spilled over. He grabbed her shoulders. First he cursed her in a few words of Italian, then in Spanish. He caught his breath and then spoke between teeth clamped together. “I will get your pamphlets. I will distribute them and you will stay home where women belong.”

Her eyes flashed angrily. “If I’d stayed home until now, you’d be dead.”

For a moment they glared at each other.

“Who have you been talking to?” he asked.

“No one,” she said, beginning to back down. “Alexander merely pointed out a few facts to me.”

“That fat sea walrus? Why is he always around you? What do you want from him?”

“Are you telling me who to see?” She started to rise. “You don’t own me because of what we just did. And you have yet to prove that you can do anything without a great deal of help. Some Raider you are! The only successful raid you’ve ever made is under a woman’s skirt.”

Jess put her knuckle to her mouth. She knew she’d gone too far.

The Raider stood, his eyes hot with anger.

“Wait, I didn’t mean that,” she began. “It was just that you shouldn’t have told me to stay home.”

He didn’t say another word to her but turned on his heel and disappeared into the night.

For a while, Jess stood there, straining her eyes and ears for a sight or sound of him, but she heard and saw nothing. Turning, she gathered her nets and fish and started home.

Chapter Eleven

WEARILY, Jessica threw down a load of fish and lobsters on the big table in the Montgomery common room. Eleanor snapped at Molly to watch what she was doing, then slammed a corn muffin pan into the brick oven. She hissed at the scrawny dog in the cage turning the spit, then gave Nathaniel a dirty look because he wasn’t already at work cleaning the fish.

“What’s going on?” Jess asked.

“Him.” The word was as much seethed as spoken by Eleanor.

Jess looked in question to Nate as he retrieved a lobster from where it had fallen to the floor.

Nick, Nate mouthed, motioning his head toward the doorway.

“What has your Nicholas done now?” Jess asked, taking a corn muffin hot from a pan.

Eleanor turned on her sister with angry eyes. “He’s not mine.” She calmed herself. “Alexander is ill. He may be dying, for all I know, and that great, hulking, arrogant monster won’t let me in to see him. He says Alex wants to see no one.”

“That’s probably true,” Jess said, her mouth full. “He probably doesn’t want anyone to see him without one of his rainbow coats.” She dusted off her hands. “But he’ll see me.” She went down the hall and had her hand on the latch to Alex’s room before Nick came from another room and saw her.

“He doesn’t want to see anyone.”