Blackwells: My Timeswept Heart Part 33

the pizzas, Duncan insisted it needed meat. It was the cheese she had to subst.i.tute, but whatever kind it was, did the job. It snapped and dripped like mozzarella, though the taste was a bit sharper.

Plates in hand, Dane and Ramsey moved to the low table before the sofa, examining the map. "We can set charges here, and here," Ramsey's finger left a stain. "The office is here." Another stain and he licked his fingertip, then blindly reached for another slice. Tess slapped his hand, then, having gained his attention, gestured for his plate. He looked like a little boy asking for another cookie.

"Are we to blow it up, sir, all of it?" Gaelan was clearly astonished.

"I see no other choice. We are not to let the goods be sold for profit. Nor traded for weapons."

"I can't believe you have to waste all those supplies. Just think of the people it would help," Tess said, handing Ramsey the pizza.

Dane glanced up, his gaze slipping over her from head to toe. "I sympathize with you, love. But 'tis all or naught. We cannot take on so much cargo. Escape would be far too risky if we are below the water line. The Witch is fast, but not if her pursuers are riding high."

"There's got to be a way." Tess settled her hip on the arm of the couch, leaning down to look at the map. "Look, station men forward and port." She pointed to the front and side doors. "One man cracks the locks, lets the others in from inside, and have a bucket brigade to carts outside." She pointed out the route, then leaned back, her hand braced 344.

on the sofa back. "It's on the docks and the Triton is already there or the Witch could easily slither up to the pier. High tide's at two bells; that should be enough time. Load what you can afford as ballast, then torch the place."

She was learning, Dane thought, smiling at her use of nautical terms. "I cannot involve anyone else beyond Ram."

"Aye, and I nearly had to bludgeon the sot to be included."

"This mission was for all of them, Dane. The creep who killed your sister is your problem." A rumble of agreement rounded the parlor, and Dane shot Tess a look of annoyance. "Don't look at me like that. It's not like you don't have enough trained men, and I'd bet the farm they'll be there whether you order it or not."

Ram grinned. "Your wife is right, Dane."

"I know, blast it all!"

Tess slipped onto his lap. "The plan's not perfect, but-"

"Do you propose to destroy it with my men inside?"

She shoved at his chest. "Be nice to me. I sleep with you," she threatened, and the room burst with deep chuckles. "You can set off a charge from outside." Dane frowned, shifting her from his lap, clearly interested in what she had to offer. "Roll a keg or two of gunpowder in, then toss in a Molotov c.o.c.ktail."

"What the ruddy h.e.l.l is that?" Ramsey asked. "It's a bottle filled with something ignitable, like 345.

lamp oil or a high proof of liquor, and a rag stuck in the neck, just enough to soak up a little of the liquid. That stuff-"she pointed to the bottle of black rum -"ought to do the trick. You light it, toss it in, and when the bottle breaks-kaboom."

"And it will ignite the gunpowder," Dane finished, relaxing back into the sofa and pulling her with him.

"Or catch anything on fire. You can place the remaining crates near the gunpowder, set off the crate, and wait for them to catch the powder that way, too. It's difficult to time, of course, but we can do the job without much noise. Or you can set a fuse. Kegs inside, long line of thin rope to the outside, but you risk the chance of the fuse burning out on its own."

Dane rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then glanced to his side. "This just came to you?"

"No." She pinched him. "I've been thinking about it since I first saw the floor plan."

He looked down at the woman nestled close to his side. "I believe mayhaps we would have won the war years earlier if you were on our side, love."

"I want to go."

"You cannot."

"Give me one solid reason?**

Dane's lips tightened. "Because I do not want you there."

"Not good enough, Blackwell." She folded her arms over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, which served only to force the abundant flesh nearly free from captivity. Dane 346.

averted his gaze. She'd no idea of the sensual picture she presented.

"Tess, love."

"Don't you dare use that with me now, pirate. I'm going!" She started to take off her gown. Dane glanced up, elementarily entranced by the sight of her shimming out of the dress and the bare leg she exposed.

"You know I can help. I can bust the locks." "Your expertise as a thief is not required," he nearly snarled, priming his weapons, then sending a shot home.

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, Dane," She marched over to the dresser, pulling her black cotton Lycra suit from the drawer.

He grabbed it, tossing it aside. "Nay! You are my wife, Tess, and I order you to stay here!"

Her head turned slowly, her eyes piercing and sharp. "Excuse me?" "I forbid you to leave this room." "You forbid, you forbid," she repeated softly, the storm brewing. "Listen up, Blackwell. I won't be treated like some possession! Ordered? Hah!" She thumped his chest. "You've got a rude awakening coming, buddy, if you think you can talk to me like that! I am my own boss. No one, no one, tells me what to do! Just because we're married doesn't give you the right to take over my life whenever you d.a.m.n well please." G.o.d, she was glorious in her rage, Dane thought as she yanked on his shirt, pulling him down to meet her face. "If you want one of those milquetoast wives who wait around for a man 347.

to tell them what to do and where to go, give the right response, stand at the door with pipe and slippers, you, Captain Blackwell, married the wrong woman.'

Dane knew exactly what kind of woman lie married. Just as he knew he couldn't win this argument now. He was pressed for time. "I cannot complete this mission if I am constantly worried for your safety."

"And what the h.e.l.l am I supposed to do? Twiddle my thumbs?"

"You could wait for me."

The idea was not high on her list.

"I could go along, too."

"G.o.d's teeth. Will you never give in on this?"

"Will you?"

"Ughhh! Blast you, woman!" he raged at the ceiling, then stormed to the door, jackboots thumping. He paused, his back to her, his hand on the latch. "I love you, Tess. More than my own life."

His shoulders slumped when she did not respond. He opened the door and ordered the guards to allow no one to pa.s.s, then glanced back over his shoulder. The raw pain in her eyes ripped him apart. But he had to do this for her own good and his. He quietly stepped out.

Through the red haze of anger, Tess reached for the black bodysuit.

348.

Hanging on the outside of the sill, Tess looked once more toward the door. She knew Sikes stood on the other side, his burly form blocking her path, She'd done everything just short of s.e.xual favors to get past. Sweet talk didnt work on the Marines this time. d.a.m.n you, Dane! She wouldn't have to resort to this if he'd listened to reason. She'd been in on everything since the beginning and wasn't about to be excluded now, whether he liked it or not. h.e.l.l, they'd still be sitting in the living room wondering how to get out of this mess if not for her!

She glanced back over her shoulder, then pushed off, twisting sharply, her arms outstretched to catch the tree limb. She met the mark and instantly tightened her muscles, trying hard not to sway. The branch groaned, leaves rustled, and she released, dropping to the ground and crouching into the shadows. The guard posted at the corner of the house twisted at the soft sound, peering in her direction. c.r.a.p, she thought, holding her breath as he started walking. He moved closer, and she tried not 349.

to burp or something as vile and give her position away. But he walked right past. She rose slowly, grabbing a handful of soft -earth as she straightened, smearing it "on her face, then wiping her hands on the seat of her tattered breeches. She scanned the area, then took off in a run toward the docks, lock picks jammed down the tight lycra sleeve concealed beneath her husband's shirt, bare feet padding silently against the deserted road.

Continental Marines with their musket barrels pointed in all directions guarded the street like a pinwheel of firepower as carts rolled slowly away from Whittingham's warehouse and down the pier. Cloth had been wrapped around the wheels to m.u.f.fle any noise, goose grease soothing any squeaks. Armed men were posted at strategic spots, ready to give the signal if the others were heard or if anyone should approach. Laughter and boisterous song from a nearby tavern drifted on the humid breeze. Waves gently sloshed against the stone embankment, a calming familiar sound to nerves yanked tight as rigging.

Dane hefted a crate onto his back, his stride slow and cautious. Sweat trickled down his temples, muscles straining to hand over the wooden box as quietly as possible.

"Careful, Dane, your bride will be in a fit if you injure something essential." Ramsey grinned, white teeth flashing in the dark.

"My bride is in a fit now," he muttered softly. And no doubt ready to claw my eyes from my skull, 350.

Dane thought, the look on her face repeating in his mind with annoying clarity. He would make it up to her, of course, if she chose to speak with him again. "Where have you been for the past hour?" Dane asked suspiciously, his hands on his hips. Rani's expression was mischievous, as usual, "Forget the inquiry," Dane waved before he could answer. "I do not believe I wish to know." He then went for another box.

The last of the crates for ballast were loaded onto the Triton when Gaelan signaled for the kegs of gunpowder. It took two men to carry in each of the four squat barrels. The ignitable dust was uncorked-Dane chose to do this himself-and he poured small piles on the remaining crates, then left the opened kegs near the largest and most costly containers of spirits and silks and spices. Ramsey blocked his path as he went for the crate of Tess's "c.o.c.ktails."

"You have a wife to think of now."

"I've no intention of dying this night, Ram." He moved him bodily aside and lifted the box of rag-stuffed bottles. "And I believe, as senior officer, I have that choice."

"Aye-aye, sir." Ram saluted, his smile not reaching his eyes, displeased that Dane would not allow him to do this small service. "A b.l.o.o.d.y waste of good rum," Ram grumbled, looking at the dark bottles.

"How a man of your caliber can stomach the vile brew is still a mystery." He shook his head ruefully, moving toward the doors. "I swear 'tis sieved through filthy smallclothes."

351.

Ram tightened his lips in an effort not to laugh out loud. He knew Dane preferred the smoother drinks to the harsh black rum rationed to the men.

"Make certain the way is clear," Dane ordered. Ram strode off to see that the men had departed and were well from sight, then drew a black gelding just inside the warehouse doors. Dane handed over the box before he mounted the beast, then reached for the c.o.c.ktails, carefully placing them in the saddlebags braced across his lap.

"Be gone with you," he told Ramsey, holding the last one in his hand. Ramsey's shoulders drooped, and he opened his mouth to plead his case once more. Dane's eyes narrowed. " Tis an order, O'Keefe."

Ram nodded, reluctantly walking through the doors, then mounting his own steed and moving down the piet. He looked back once. Dane had the reins caught between his teeth, the horse stomping and prancing as he struck flint.

She was lost, Tess was sure of it. She'd been to the docks before, and nothing around her looked familiar. Having to stay in the shadows wasn't much help, and she hadn't made it very far. At least she didn't think she had. She kept moving toward the sound of water. Already she'd pa.s.sed a couple of taverns and recognized several of the crew. Can't ask directions, she thought, thankful that most who'd seen her simply disregarded her as a boy.

She stopped at a darkened intersection, settling her rear on a hitching rail and considering her situ- 352.

ation. Awfully noisy for one a.m., she thought, laughter, a baby's hungry cry, and the slow clop of hooves melting with the cooing of the island birds. It took a full minute before Tess realized she'd gone in a complete circle, A couple of blocks away, above the low roofs of small homes, she could see the distinct arched windows of the house, and beyond that, the inn. d.a.m.n, Renfrew, your sense of direction is the pits! Dane was probably finished by now, she decided, pushing away from the rail. She hadn't taken more than two steps when a rustling sound reached her ears. She turned, her heart picking up its pace as she strained to discover what was making the noise. Man or beast? Her imagination taking flight, she half-expected Jason to suddenly appear brandishing a b.l.o.o.d.y hatchet. A second later the friar materialized from the tree line, and Tess sighed heavily, sagging against the post.

"Mistress Blackwell?" He peered closer. "Is that you, my child?"

She fanned herself. "Ah, yes, it's me, Father Jacob."

"What on earth are you doing out this late?" He scanned the area. "Alone?"

Tess straightened. His gaze was roaming up and down her clothing, halting and squinting at the black Lycra she knew he could see at her throat. "Why are you disguised as a boy, la.s.s?"

"Urn, well, I, ah, was, ah." Oh, Jeez, she couldn't lie to a priest! "I was looking for Dane," she blurted in a rush. "And thought I'd draw less attention dressed like this." She plucked at the trousers, having never felt quite so awkward about 353.

wearing pants before this moment.

He smiled gently at her flushed face. "Then we must get you to him, la.s.s. Tis not safe for such a delicate creature as you to be out unescorted." He walked with a determined step toward her, offering his arm. The la.s.s had sneaked out, he deduced, knowing well her new husband would never have allowed such a liberty freely. The man's short steps had barely covered the s.p.a.ce between them when the thunder of hooves came from all directions.

The priest moved swiftly to her aide, pulling her along. She let out a sharp cry, stumbling when a horse barreled into their path. Father Jacob yanked her protectively behind him but a second horse skidded to a stop in back of her, its rider chuckling nastily, the animal's breath snorting hotly on her neck. She sidestepped, trying desperately not to get tromped on, when a carriage, black and ma.s.sive, careened around the bend to block their escape, chains and wood screaming as it came to a grinding halt. The friar muttered something in Latin. The small gold-trimmed door burst open.

"Join me, mistress," a silky masculine voice commanded.

"In your dreams, buddy! Come on, Father." She started to move between the horses, but the riders tightened the circle about them. Then she heard an unmistakable click. She whirled toward the carriage to see a pistol barrel emerge from the darkened interior, ringed fingers closed around the weapon, "Get in."

"Do not, la.s.s."

"I won't, Father," she a.s.sured, then said, "Look, 354.

mac, you've obviously got the wrong person. I don't know who you are, and I'm definitely not going anywhere-"

He tsked softly. "You force my hand, lady. Kill the friar."

The casually spoken words made Tess's heart freeze mid-beat. A rider swiftly tossed a rope around Father Jacob's torso, yanking it tight, pulling him from Tess's side. A gun barrel was suddenly pressed firmly to his temple.

"Please-don't hurt him!" she begged, moving toward the conveyance. "I'll go, you d.a.m.ned coward! I'll go!"

"For the love of G.o.d, mistress, nay!" Father Jacob screamed, wildly struggling with his bonds. "Do not go! Run, RUN!"

"I shall caution you not to insult me further, ma-dame." Tess gulped thickly at yet another threat. "And be quick about it." The jeweled hand waved the gun impatiently, giving her a view of a lace cuff and blood red brocade. She stepped onto the landing, ducking slightly.

"Nay!" the priest cried hoa.r.s.ely, struggling to get to her.

The weapon fired, blasting near the back of her head, making her ears ring, and singeing her braided hair. She twisted sharply, waving frantically at the white smoke as the friar dropped to the ground with a thud, blood gushing from what was left of his head and pooling on the dirt. Her legs trembled, her stomach rolled violently, and for a split second Tess couldn't move a muscle.

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Tess screamed, lurching at the 355.

killer. She clawed and scratched at his face. "What the h.e.l.l did you do that for?" Her nails raked his cheek, yet he made no move to stop her. "I agreed, for Christ's sake!" His blood wet her fingertips, giving her little satisfaction.

"Witnesses, my lovely," he said, and Tess froze. His tone was smooth, liquid, far too controlled for what he'd just done.

A roaring blast ripped into the night, the earth shuddering with the force. The man grabbed her arm, yanking her into the carriage and slamming her against the far wall at his feet. Above her head he brushed back a short red curtain with the nose of the gun. Explosions erupted in erratic repet.i.tion. The blaze of yellow flames radiated against the ebony sky, the brilliant glow lighting his face for an instant. His fingers tightened on her arm. It was his only response. Citizens raced from their homes. He let the curtain drop back into place, slowly looking in her direction, his face expressionless. I'm a dead woman, she thought, struggling in his grasp, trying to peel off his fingers, her strong feet kicking viciously. He grunted once at her a.s.sault, then quite calmly backhanded her, the pistol b.u.t.t smashing against the side of her head. Pain detonated in her skull, her surroundings narrowing rapidly. His shadowed silhouette swam in her line of vision, blond waves framing sharp, handsome features, then he smiled-shark-cold, a slow baring of white teeth as his gaze rested on the blood she could feel trickling down the side of her face. Then unconsciousness took her past the agony as she slumped onto the carriage floor.

356.

Wood smoldered, then burst, flames waving like wisps of orange silk. Gunpowder sizzled and smoked, the sulfur trails burning rapidly toward the kegs. Dane touched the flint to the cloth and threw the last bottle into the warehouse, then reined around sharply and kneed the beast. The frightened charger bolted out the open doors seconds before the first explosion ruptured. Debris burst from the building, shattered wood shooting like flaming bullets and dropping into his path. He skillfully maneuvered the horse over the wreckage, hastening his pace. Dane never saw the hunk of burning timber fall from the sky, yet felt the pain when it impacted with his body, knocking him from his mount.

Whittingham jolted awake at the loud crash. He leapt from his bed, and, as fast as his chubby legs would take him and raced to the window, brushing back the drape. His eyes widened at the sight. All he could see was the vibrant glow of flames against the night. His warehouses! "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l! Blood friggin' h.e.l.l!" He s.n.a.t.c.hed up his breeches, jamming 'his foot into the legs and hitching them over his nightshirt. He grabbed the pistol kept loaded on the commode, shoving the barrel into his waistband as he took up more powder and shot, then thundered out of his room. He'd kill Phillip. He had his coin, and it would be just like the b.a.s.t.a.r.d to destroy his stores. The ledgers, he panicked, I must retrieve the 357.

d.a.m.ned proof. Nigel nearly fell down the stairs in his haste and stumbled against the door, pausing to catch his breath and h.e.l.low for the servants to bring the carriage round. He opened the front door and ran out, nightcap askew, sweating profusely as he tripped and fell down the stone steps.

"How good of you to join us, Whittingham." Ni-gel lifted his gaze upward from the booted toes poised before his face. His vision climbed higher, up the long body, pausing at the gun barrel pointed at his nose. His eyes shot to its owner, and the young blond man smiled. "You weren't by chance going for these, were you, sir?" he asked with a grin, waving his ledgers triumphantly.

Nigel groaned, and the man's smile fell, his expression turning cold and hard, "By order of the President, George Washington, I charge you with treason on the high seas against the United States of America. Is that clear, sir?"

Nigel struggled to his feet, spitting dirt and pebbles at the young man's boots. "Who are you, and what gives you the right to - " "This gives me the right, sir." Gaelan Thorpe produced doc.u.ments to back his claim, then neatly stuffed them in his coat pocket, ordering his men to shackle the fat little Tory.