The Raider (Montgomery/Taggert 9)
He moved down in the bed, put a pillow over his stomach, and covered his arms so only his hands could be seen. “All right,” he said tiredly. “I’m decent now.”
Jess lit a candle and studied his face. “You don’t look so bad. What’s been wrong with you?”
“Just a flare up of my old illness. Did I tell you, Jess, that one doctor said I might not live very long?”
She frowned, then put the candle down. “You don’t seem to be ill most of the time. Except that you look awful, you don’t act especially decrepit.” Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry, I promised Eleanor I wouldn’t insult you. Well, now that I’ve seen you’re all right, I’ll go. I have fish to deliver. Now, you eat something and stop making my sister yell at me. Maybe I’ll see you in a couple of days.” She turned to leave.
By a lightening quick motion, he caught her wrist. “Jess, couldn’t you stay a moment? It’s so lonely here.”
She tried to shake his hand away but couldn’t. “That’s your fault, Alex. You post that sea bull outside and he lets no one in.”
“I know,” Alex said wistfully. “It’s just that I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”
“You look a sight better like that than in those—” She broke off. “All right, I’ll stay for a minute or two. What do you want to talk about?”
She started to take a chair, but Alex kept holding her wrist and pulled her to sit on the bed beside him.
“What have you been doing while I’ve been ill?”
“Fishing.”
“Nothing else?” he asked.
“What else can I do? It takes three times as long to gather half my catch now that I don’t have a ship.”
He still didn’t release her hand but held it. “No problem selling them?”
At that she smiled. “Admiral Westmoreland and his men are eating every penny of the Wentworths’ profits from the chandlery. Mrs. Wentworth was frying clams yesterday.”
“How’s Abigail?”
Jessica’s mouth twisted in disgust. “The gossip is that she and Ethan retire directly after supper.”
Alex coughed to cover a laugh. “And how’s your Raider?”
“Mad,” she said before she thought, then closed her mouth.
“Mad as in angry or as in insane?”
“That’s none of your business.” She tried to move away from him but he held her hand firmly.
“Lover’s quarrel?” he teased.
“We’re not—” she said, then broke off and looked down
“You can tell me,” he coaxed. “I take it you saw him again. Glad he wasn’t making a raid. I’ve been too sick to save you.”
She pulled away from him that time, grabbed a pillow and slammed it on his head, powder filling the air. “You ass!” she yelled. “You pompous, lazy ass! What happened is all your fault. You make me doubt him. He’s hope to this town, while all you are is something to laugh at. You’re nothing but a—” She broke off because, when she raised the pillow, Alex didn’t move. His head lay to one side at a sharp angle.
“Alex!” she gasped and half fell across him, her face close to his. “Alex, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I forgot that you’re so fragile. Oh, Alex, I didn’t mean it. Please don’t be dead. I really am grateful for all you’ve done to help us.” She picked up his head and pressed it to her breast while stroking his cheek. “Alex, I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I won’t hit you again.”
Alex smiled against her breast, enjoying her for several long moments, and then his hands came up to her back as he groaned.
She started to pull away, but he held her fast.
“Jess, your strength feels so good. Hold me a minute. Let me feel your strength flowing into me.”
She clutched his head closer to her, her hands gripping him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. You say such awful things that I forget you’re so breakable.”