The Raider (Montgomery/Taggert 9)

Three times Jess tried to talk to men about freedom, about protesting what was happening, but no one would listen to her.

At the end of the fourth day, she was at the little cove north of her house. Her hands were raw and blistered; she was cold; she was hungry. She thought of the children at home and she gathered her net for one last cast.

“Jessie.”

At first she thought it was only the wind saying her name.

“Jessie.”

She turned on her heel and looked into the darkness where the land formed a little cliff on one side of the cove. She saw nothing at first, but then out of the darkness came a hand, a hand extended toward her, palm up.

She ran to him.

The Raider held her in his arms so tightly her ribs nearly cracked. “Jessie, Jessie, Jessie,” he whispered over and over, clutching her, his face in her hair.

“You’re here. You’re all right,” Jess gasped, tears in her eyes and in her voice. “Let me see. Let me see where you were hurt.” Frantically, she began pulling his shirt from his pants, eager to see that he was indeed unharmed.

“Let me help you,” the Raider chuckled as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“I can’t see. It’s too dark.” She was so near to bursting into tears. She hadn’t cried when they’d burned her boat and she hadn’t cried when the people had ostracized her, but now she didn’t know if she could hold back any longer.

“Then use your hands,” the Raider said softly. “Here, Jessie, I’m not worth crying over.” He pulled away from her long enough to turn his back to her. “The gunpowder sent some rocks flying. Feel the ridges? They’re healed now.”

She ran her hands over his strong back, feeling the scars. She remembered all too well that he had received those while protecting her. The flood of tears could not be held back any longer. She buried her face in the skin of his back, mashing her nose against his spine, her mouth open, tears coming in a deluge. Her hands dug into his skin at his waist.

“Jessie, my darling,” he whispered, turning and pulling her to him. “You have more to cry about than anyone. Go ahead and cry.”

“I thought you were dead. Or married.”

“Neither,” he said as he picked her up, then sat with her in his arms, holding her close, her tears wetting his neck, his chest, his back. “I wouldn’t marry a silly nit like Abigail. I want only the best.”

Jessica began to cry harder.

He stroked her hair, caressed her back, then his hand moved down her hip and onto her thighs. “And I certainly wouldn’t be stupid enough to let someone talk me into saying I’d slept with her when I hadn’t.”

“She loves him,” Jess gasped. “I saw her.”

“You saw Abigail and Ethan, not me.” He began to unbutton her shirt.

“There was blood on my hands. Everyone said you were dead. Alex said you should be dead.” Her tears came harder.

“What does he know?” He pulled her shirttail from her pants, then unbuckled her belt. “Why do you spend so much time around him anyway? That coat he had on today isn’t good for your eyes. It’ll give you squints.”

“It’s lovers’ knots,” she sobbed. “Did you know they burned my ship?”

“Ah yes, my darling.” He drew her to him and lifted her up as he began sliding the loose, baggy pants over her hips. “There was nothing I could do to stop them. It happened too quickly. I hear you spent the night with Montgomery.”

Sh

e pulled away from him, looking into his eyes glistening behind the mask.

“Not the way you mean. What in the world?!” She gasped in horror as she looked down at herself clad in her chemise, her trousers down to her ankles, and her boots still on her feet.

The Raider practically dropped her upper body on the rocky shore, then in one lightening movement, went to her feet and pulled off her boots and her trousers.

Jessica, sniffing, blinking to clear her eyes, was too astonished to move.

The bare-chested Raider began moving toward her like a panther, on all fours, silkily moving his body over hers.