The Raider (Montgomery/Taggert 9)

There were tears of relief in her eyes when she saw the Montgomery house, and the window to her bedroom standing open.

It was difficult for her to enter and she was only halfway in when she saw Alex sitting there, his eyes on fire with rage.

“You’ll never leave this room again, so help me God,” he began. “I’ll chain you, I’ll starve you, I’ll—”

“Alex, help me, I’m hurt,” she managed to say and then fell forward into the room.

He caught her before she hit the floor and carried her to the bed.

“Alex,” she whispered.

Alex didn’t respond, as he was tearing the clothes off her.

“Just like the Raider,” she said, smiling and at last feeling safe.

He left her, bare from the waist up, went to his room and returned with a lantern, clean bandages and a water basin. He’d removed his coat. Tenderly, he began to clean the wound at her side.

“Are you mad at me, Alex?” she asked, wincing at the pain.

He moved her to her side and washed blood from her back, her ribs, her hip.

“Alex, we had to do it. We couldn’t let those men be taken. The admiral’d start taking all the men. He’d probably want Nathaniel next.”

Alex just kept cleaning and didn’t answer her.

“You do see, don’t you? It went just as we planned. We had no problems at all.” She halted at a sound outside. “What was that?”

“A shot,” Alex said curtly, then pushed her on her back. For all his obvious anger, he was very gentle. He lifted her upper body and began wrapping her ribs.

“Alex, at least you can admire our plan. Mrs. Wentworth was dressed—” She stopped when Alex turned away from her to fetch a clean nightgown from a chest.

“Alex, at least say something. You certainly seemed to have a lot to say when I first came in.”

He pulled the nightgown down over her head, laid her back on the bed, picked up her feet and began to undress the lower half of her.

“Alex, I don’t think it’s very kind of you to not speak to me. The Raider came at the very end of our raid and he wanted me to go away with him, but I wanted to come back here to you.”

He gave her a look she didn’t understand at all, pulled the blanket over her, picked up the lantern and bloody basin, then left the room. He shut the door behind him.

Jessica lay in the dark a moment, too astonished to think. Her first thought was, What does it matter if Alexander is angry with me? She had done something that would help a whole town.

She thought back over how well the plan had gone. Then she remembered the way she’d lied to Alex about what she’d been talking about to Abby and Mrs. Wentworth.

She remembered freeing the three men, men who’d been imprisoned by the tyranny of the English. Then she thought of Alex saying that he loved her and cared about her.

She thought of the way the Raider had saved her.

But she remembered it was Alexander who she knew would take care of her wound. There were some men who were full of passion and excitement, but there were other men who took care of you when you were sick.

Holding her side stiffly so it wouldn’t bleed again, she went to the connecting door and opened it. Her hand was trembling.

Alex, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, was sitting in a chair set before a window, smoking a long cigar, his eyes fixed straight ahead. He didn’t turn when Jess entered. Even when she placed herself between him and the window, he didn’t look at her.

“Alex, I really am sorry,” she said softly. “It was something I felt had to be done. Can’t you understand that? Sometimes a person can’t think of anything except what needs to be done. I didn’t mean to get hurt. I didn’t want to disobey you and make you worry. Your father tried to talk me out of going but I had to do it. Can’t you understand?” She was pleading with him to understand. He was like Eleanor, so hurt because she hadn’t done what was expected of her.

“Please, Alex,” she whispered.

At long last, he looked up at her.