He put his hand on the connecting door leading to Jessica’s room and found it locked. Immediately, he knew something was wrong. He was out his window in a minute and found the window to her room standing open. It took only seconds to see that her room was empty.
For a moment he cursed his father for inadvertently allowing Jess to escape; he cursed the Raider; he cursed Nick for bringing him back to America; he cursed Jessica; he cursed himself; he cursed the importers of black cloth. And when he was only halfway through, he began to run. He had to row to Ghost Island, change, and then the Raider had to save Jessica.
Chapter Seventeen
GET that relic out of here,” the young soldier yelled. Behind him, half a dozen men began to wake.
The old woman, lines on her face, her once-gaudy clothes smelling of long-dead fish, climbed down from the wagon, her hand to her back as if in pain. “You wouldn’t deny an old woman a little warmth, would you?”
“You can’t stay here. We’re under orders of His Majesty the king.”
The old woman pushed the barrel of the man’s gun out of the way and walked toward the fire, her hands stretched out toward its warmth.
The young man opened his mouth to protest, but just then, stepping down from the wagon, was a heavenly vision of a creature: a buxom beauty whose breasts were tumbling out of a loosely cut blouse.
“My goodness,” said the young woman, clutching her breasts and pushing them up while she adjusted the front of her garment.
By now all the men in the camp were awake and most of them on their feet.
The young woman tried to climb out of the wagon but her skirt caught and, to free herself, she had to lift the hem above her knees. By the time she was ready to get out of the wagon, every man except the two on guard duty was standing beneath her, arms raised to help her down.
“How kind you are,” the young woman said modestly, looking down at her audience. “But I believe you said my mother and I must leave.”
With a loud wail of protest, the men looked toward the young captain who was their commanding officer. But the light in the captain’s eyes was as bright as in his men’s. He stepped forward.
“We have meager warmth and coarse food, but it is yours.”
Abigail allowed herself to be helped down by the young officer, her breasts just grazing his face as she slid down his body until her feet touched the ground.
Jessica stood in the shadows and watched the little drama, played in the center of the glow of the firelight. For a few moments she was as fascinated as the men by the performance. Abigail genuinely loved her role.
As Jessica watched, Abby leaned forward at every opportunity, her loose blouse gaping, the men stupefied in their positions, unable to move a muscle. Jess had never realized a woman could have such power over men.
Jessica, fading into the shadows in the black garment Mrs. Wentworth had made her, waited until she heard the first strains of music. Mrs. Wentworth had loaded several musical instruments inside the old wagon. Her plan was to get the men involved as thoroughly as possible so Jessica could free the prisoners.
“I’ll kill her,” Jess heard a man to her left say. It was Ethan’s voice and he was watching his wife’s first undulations as she started to dance.
“Quiet!” the guard commanded Ethan.
Jess prayed Ethan wouldn’t give the game away. It was too early yet, before the men were absorbed in Abby’s dance, but Jess slipped through the shadows behind the three men staked by the big oak tree. Easily, she made it safely to the oak tree and the first man whose ropes she touched had sense enough to keep his eyes on Abigail’s lascivious dance. The only sign he gave that he was free was a brief nod of his head. The second man was just as easy to untie.
But Ethan was another matter. He was straining against the ropes so hard as he watched his wife dance that the ropes were tightly knotted. Jessica removed a knife from her boot and began sawing.
Perhaps it was a movement from Ethan or maybe she moved too quickly, but something alerted a guard. The soldier turned and saw a flash of moonlight on the knife blade. The two men who were free moved quickly, one of them using his doubled fists to hit the soldier’s head. One man caught him before he hit the ground.
“I knew you’d come,” one of the men whispered. The music and the soldiers’ cheering were getting louder.
Jessica stayed in the shadow of the tree, still sawing at Ethan’s ropes. The men thought she was the Raider. “Go,” she said in her deepest voice.
Eagerly, the men slipped away into the darkness.
“Jessica Taggert!” Ethan whispered over his shoulder. “I should have known it was you. You’re the instigator of this, aren’t you?”
She paused in surprise.
“Don’t stop, cut them!” Ethan hissed. “I can tell a woman from a man any day.” He looked back at Abigail jumping over flaming sticks a couple of men were holding. “I’m going to kill her.”
“She’s doing this for you,” Jess hissed back. “There!”