“Not on your life. You aren’t stepping foot out of this door today. I don’t trust you not to go directly to this admiral and challenge him to a fistfight. I plan to keep you alive day by day. Now, tell me what you have in mind when you talk of patriotism.”
But no matter how much he coaxed, Jessica wouldn’t tell him anything.
* * *
Jessica awoke with a sick stomach, an aching head and a tongue made of hide glue. Her first thought was that she would never trust Alexander. He had no intention of talking to her about patriotism. He’d only wanted to get her drunk so that she was too befuddled to fight what had been done to her.
Slowly, keeping her head steady, she threw back the covers of Alexander’s bed. It’s a wonder he doesn’t sleep under pink satin, she thought.
“Good morning,” Alex called from the doorway.
“It’s not good. Alex, I hate that coat,” she groaned.
He grinned. “It’s new. They’re lovers’ knots and pineapples. I rather like it. Want something to eat?”
“Where are my boots?”
“Here. Jess, I think you should rest today.”
“Of course I should. Just sleep the afternoon away. How are the children?”
“Eleanor is coping fine. She and I raided the larder and there’s more than enough food for them.”
“Taggerts don’t—”
“Accept charity, I know. You want some help?”
Jess pulled on the second boot. “I have to go fishing. I have to—” She stopped suddenly because she remembered her ship was no more. “Did they burn her?”
Alex sat beside her on the bed and took one of her hands. “Yes, Jess, they did. I met Admiral Westmoreland—he’s quartered himself and ten of his men at the Wentworths’—and I think I’ve persuaded him that you were never really involved.”
She jerked away from him. “That won’t bring back my ship.”
“No, but if you stay away from the Raider, it might help.”
She stood, grabbed her head and stomach to steady them, then glared at him. “What do you understand? All you know is…is lovers’ knots and pineapples. For all anyone knows the Raider is dead. He’s dead, my ship is burned and I—” She stopped and turned away, but she’d break before she cried before this man who looked like a nest of fireflies.
“Jess…” Alex began, moving closer to her.
“Don’t you touch me.” She moved away from him, unlatched the door and left the room. She didn’t pause in the common room either, just called, “Come with me, Nathaniel,” as she passed and kept going. She refused to look at the townspeople who stopped and gawked at her. They were afraid of her now, afraid some of the trouble she was in would touch them.
She paused for a moment by the blacksmith shop. Ethan Ledbetter, bare forearms glistening with sweat, his sweaty shirt plastered to his back muscles, was hammering on a hot horseshoe—and Abigail was standing in the shadows, looking at him as a hungry child looked at a Christmas feast.
Hot tears came to Jessica’s eyes. Was the reason the Raider hadn’t appeared because Ethan now had Abigail?
“Jessie?” Nate said from beside her. “Mr. Alexander is coming.”
“Then we are going,” Jess said angrily and started walking quickly.
She worked herself without stopping for four days. At the end of the first day, Eleanor had given her a piece of her mind.
“You may try to kill yourself if you want, but you’re not going to kill Nathaniel.” Eleanor had carried the exhausted child upstairs.
So Jess went out alone. She threw nets into the sea and pulled them back. She nailed together an old pushcart and hawked the fish she caught about town. Many of the people were afraid to buy from her. Her name was tainted now and everyone was afraid of the admiral and his soldiers.
The admiral walked the streets of Warbrooke from early until late. His soldiers jumped at every sound. One of them shot a little girl’s puppy when it ran in front of him unexpectedly. The taverns by the wharf were closed.
Warbrooke was a town under military rule.