Velvet Chains (Historical Romance) (9 page)

Season opened her eyes and tried to remember where she was. Something had happened, but for the moment she couldn't remember what it was. She became aware that she was in a speeding coach. She heard the sound of the horses' hooves on the cobblestone street, and the swaying motion of the conveyance almost unseated her.

"I apologize for my ungentlemanly behavior, my lady, but, you see, I knew of no other way to convince you to accept my hospitality." The deep raspy voice brought back Season's memory.

"Who are you, and what do you want with me?" she blurted out. Her thoughts seemed to be tumbling over one another. If this man hadn't meant to rob her, what was he after? She strained her eyes in the darkness, trying to see the man's face, but she could see only black on black.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier, my lady. I am known both far and wide as The Raven. I doubt that you have heard of me, since you have so recently landed on our shores," he drawled.

Season drew in her breath as a new fear replaced the old one. God in heaven, she had been captured by the same man General Clinton and Colonel Tibbs had been discussing this very evening! A shudder racked her body, and Season cringed in the corner of her seat, getting as far away from the man's menacing presence as she possibly could.

"If it's information you want from me, I know nothing about our defenses. Even if I were privy to that information, I would never tell you."

"Nay, my lady, I do not ask you to betray your fellow countrymen. Instead, you will be the instrument that I will use to save one of mine."

"I don't understand. How could I possibly be of help to you?"

Again Season heard the sinister laughter that played on her already overwrought nerve ends.

"You have nothing to fear from me, my lady. Just do as you are told and no harm will befall you."

"If it's riches you are after, my father will pay handsomely for my release," she offered.

"Remain silent!" The husky command came from somewhere among the dark shadows.

"No, not until you tell me where you are taking me," she demanded.

"I'm warning you, my lady. Do not push me past my limit," he snapped.

Season swallowed convulsively and then cringed when The Raven propped his black-booted foot up on the seat beside her. But as he leaned back in a relaxed position, Season's anger overruled her fear. How dare this man come into her bedroom and take her away by force. He was nothing more than a barbaric pirate while she was the daughter of the Duke of Chatsworth. Propelling herself across the seat, she threw her weight against him and began to pound her fists against his chest.

His amused laughter made her angrier still. He caught her flying hands and held them firmly against his chest. Lifting her up as if she weighed nothing, he pulled her across his lap. She was pinned so tightly against his chest that she could scarcely move.

"What a spirited little wildcat you are," he whispered against her ear. "Do not force me to clip your claws, my lady; I can assure you, you may not like my method."

Feelings not unlike those of fear tightened Season's stomach muscles. "You are a brute!" she said, trying to free her hands.

"How do you like your men, my lady? Weak and fawning, or strong and masterful?" he asked insultingly. "If you prefer weak and fawning, you will have to look for your pleasure elsewhere."

"How dare you speak to me thus, sir. I am not one of the tavern wenches to which you are most probably accustomed. My father will kill you for this!"

Again Season heard the laughter that was beginning to tell on her nerves. "We are in agreement that you are nothing like a tavern wench. However, as to your father, he is a long way from here, my lady. I have it on good authority that he sent you to America for a speedy marriage to curb your . . . appetites."

Suddenly all the life seemed to go out of Season. She wondered how it was possible that this man knew so much about her. General Clinton had said The Raven seemed to know everything that was going on, and she was beginning to believe that.

"But for men, I wouldn't be in the position I now find myself," she said, with more spirit than she felt. "I hate all men!" she declared, burying her face against the dark folds of his cape. She was too tired and weary to care if he ravished her on the spot.

"From what is said about you, my lady, the opposite is true."

"Why should I care what you think?" she said, closing her eyes. The rocking motion of the coach and the warm, hard body she was held against soon lulled Season into an exhausted sleep.

The Raven stared into the darkness. He did not like the part he was playing that night. It went against his instincts to mistreat a woman—even if she were a worthless bit of baggage, as well as the enemy. The price for just one of her gowns would probably feed Washington's army for a whole month, he thought bitterly. He closed his eyes, trying not to think about the soft body that rested against him. That was difficult to do for he readily admitted to himself that he admired the lady's spirit and he reluctantly admitted that he admired her beautiful face and body.

Again he reminded himself that the woman he held in his arms was the enemy. He didn't have the time or the inclination to cater to her whims.

His only purpose in taking her captive was to use her to bargain for his Uncle Silas' life. Just this evening he had learned that the British had taken his uncle prisoner. If they harmed him, this lady might well pay with her life! The two countries were at war, and he couldn't allow himself to be soft just because this enemy was a woman. All he could allow himself to think about at the moment was his uncle who was locked away in some dank cell and was probably being tortured by the British to make him talk. The Raven knew his uncle would never succumb. Silas Dunsberry would die before he would betray either his nephew or the cause.

As the coach passed a tavern, The Raven looked down and watched the lights from the establishment flicker across Lady Season Chatsworth's face. He could observe her to the fullest since she was asleep. Yes, she is beautiful, he thought. But he had long ago learned that beauty could be very superficial, as he suspected it was in her case. He pulled his cloak tighter about her, wondering why the lady's loose morals should bother him. Too many times he had enjoyed a loose-moraled woman.

Why, he wondered, is there such an air of innocence about this particular woman? Probably that is part of her charm, he reasoned bitterly. The Raven had no intention of falling under this lady's spell. He did not wish to be one of the many who had bedded her. This was the first time The Raven had ever abducted a female, and doing so didn't sit well with him. If it weren't for his uncle's predicament, he would have sent her right back to Colonel Tibbs.

Season awoke, slowly becoming aware that the swaying of the coach had stopped. Before she had time to reflect on where The Raven was taking her, she was pulled from the coach. The man took her hand and led her in the direction of the pounding waves that washed against the shore. She could just make out a small boat some distance ahead. She was cold and miserable, the wind off the ocean stung her cheeks, and the beach sand hurt her bare feet.

Season stumbled. Immediately she was lifted into strong arms and carried to the waiting boat.

"Please, I don't want to go with you," she pleaded, realizing her destination was to be the sea.

"Remain silent," came the low hiss near her ear.

The Raven placed her in the boat and climbed in beside her.

As the small craft caught the waves, it rocked about drunkenly until the six men aboard plied their oars and propelled the boat forward.

"You chose a fine night for your business, Captain, there be only a half-moon tonight. The British will never know we sailed in right under their noses," one of the crewmembers declared.

"Hold your tongue," the dark captain ordered in a whisper. "You know sound carries on the water."

Soon all that could be heard were oars slicing through the water and waves lapping at the small craft. It seemed to Season that they had been in the boat for hours; her body was numb and cold. In the far corner of the boat she pulled The Raven's cloak more tightly about her and shivered, staring into the darkness. The moon was covered by clouds. She was frightened, but she knew there was nothing she could do about her plight for the moment.

Season was her father's daughter and did not easily admit that she was beaten. Having a strong will and a sense of survival, she was determined that no matter what happened she would never grovel at the feet of the man who called himself The Raven. Was she not superior to him by birth and breeding? Wouldn't it be wise to show him how an English lady of quality acted? She was determined to bury her fears and to meet whatever demands this man made on her with strength and dignity. Season had taught herself to swim on the lovely summer days she'd spent in the English countryside, and she was a good swimmer. Perhaps, she thought, I will be able to break away and swim for shore. Thinking of escape will keep me from loosing my sanity, she told herself.

Suddenly a huge ship loomed before them through the dense fog. Season could just make out the figurehead, it was shaped like a raven with wings spread, ready to take flight. She closed her eyes, trying not to think about all the stories she had heard about how pirates treated their captives.

When the small boat bumped against the hull of the ship, The Raven hoisted Season onto his shoulder and climbed the rope ladder. Once he reached the deck, he placed her on her feet and assumed command of the ship.

"Hoist the riggings, Briggs. We sail on the morning tide," he called out.

"Aye, aye, Captain," came the reply, as the crew began scurrying about, making ready to sail.

"These are tricky waters, Captain, I fear we might run aground in this fog," the man Briggs called out.

"Have no fear, I know these waters like your own mother knows your face. I will take the helm until we are out to sea," came the raspy reply. "Take the lady below, to my cabin."

"Aye, aye, sir."

The man called Briggs turned to Season. "Come with me, little lady. I'll see that you are made comfortable."

Season gave in gracefully, knowing she had no other choice. Briggs led her down the companionway and into a dark cabin.

"I'm sorry you can't have no light until we are safely out of these waters, my lady. Here give me your hand and I'll lead you safely to the bed."

Season stubbornly refused to give the man her hand, so he took her by the arm and led her forward. Reaching out in front of her, she felt the bed and sat down. She heard, rather than saw, the man leave, and she recognized the sound of a key grating in a lock. Season knew she was now the prisoner of the ominous Raven.

Unable to see the cabin, she feared it was filthy—the bed might even have lice, she thought, jumping to her feet. Sniffing the air, she couldn't smell any offensive odor, only the bracing aroma of the sea.

Sighing heavily, she sat down on the bed. She was so weary that she soon lay back and curled up, pulling the covers over her, no longer caring about the condition of the cabin. Sleepily she closed her eyes.

She could hear the wind catching a bit of canvas and the waves lapping against the ship. Too tired to care about anything, Season drifted off to sleep.

The Raven had removed his black hood and he now stood at the helm of the ship. His first mate, Briggs, stood beside him, watching him maneuver the huge ship through the water with little fear of jagged rocks and sand bars—the hazards that preyed on unsuspecting sailors in these waters.

"You have the gift, Captain. You handle the ship as easily as if you was on a Sunday stroll."

The Raven did not reply.

"Did you have any trouble this evening, Captain?"

"It was too simple. No man challenged me. No one will know Lady Season Chatsworth is missing until the house awakens tomorrow."

"Did she give you any trouble?" Briggs wanted to know.

The Raven stared into the thick fog. "She seemed willing to accept the inevitable after a fashion."

"What's our destination, sir?"

"We set course for the open sea and safe waters. There we await the signal that my uncle has been released. If all goes well I will set the lady ashore by tomorrow evening. I left a note pinned to her pillow. I am certain the British will not hesitate to exchange my Uncle Silas for Lady Season."

"Let us hope so, Captain. I have a great fondness for your uncle."

The Raven gripped the helm tightly. He had taken desperate steps tonight, but he had been backed into a corner and had had no choice. He had very little doubt that General Clinton would be shown his note tomorrow. Tomorrow night the
Andromeda
would again sail close to the New Jersey shore to receive the message of his uncle's release. The Raven knew that General Clinton was planning to take ship himself in a few hours, but he had no doubt that the man's fear for Lady Season Chatsworth's safety would keep him on land long enough to see that Silas Dunsberry was released.

7

Molly came running down the hallway, screaming at the top of her lungs. "My lady, my lady, they've took my sweet, innocent lady!"

Mrs. Stiles, the housekeeper, who was just coming out of the Tibbs's bedroom grabbed Molly's arm and tried to make some sense out of her raving. "What are you talking about? Is something wrong with Lady Season?"

"What's all this commotion?" Mrs. Tibbs asked, poking her head around her bedroom door. "Do you want to awaken Lady Season with your carrying on?"

"My lady has been taken away. Someone came into her bedroom last night and spirited her out of the house," Molly cried hysterically.

By now Colonel Tibbs had heard the loud carrying on, and he came out into the hallway, tying the sash of his purple robe about his waist. Here now, what's all this about? Your shrieking would wake the dead," he said in a commanding voice.

Molly dropped to her knees before him. "Oh, sir, my lady has been taken!"

"What's this? What are you saying, woman!" the colonel asked, hauling the hysterical Molly to her feet and shaking her soundly.

"When I went into my lady's room like I always do— she's an early riser and if she isn't already awake, I awaken her—"

"Yes, yes, get on with it," the colonel commanded in an irritated voice.

Molly dabbed at her eyes with her apron. "When I went to her room this morning, there were signs of a struggle, and she's missing!" Molly declared, grabbing the colonel's hand and practically dragging him toward Season's bedroom.

The colonel caught his wife's eye. They both knew that if anything had happened to Lady Season while she was under their protection there would be all hell to pay.

Colonel Tibbs looked about the cluttered room with the practiced eye of a soldier. He noticed there was clothing strewn on the floor, but Lady Season Chatsworth's jewel case was on the vanity, seemingly untouched. He glanced at the curtains blowing in the wind and deduced that the intruder must have climbed through the window.

"By the saints," he roared. "Someone will pay for this piece of work." He scanned the room, looking for some clue as to the lady's disappearance. Mrs. Tibbs's voice had joined Molly's, and the two women put forth a fearful howl.

Colonel Tibbs's eyes fell on the rumpled bed, and he noted that the coverlet was missing. Then he saw the note propped against the pillow. He grabbed up the parchment and saw that it was addressed to General Clinton. Hurriedly ripping it open, he began to read aloud.

General Clinton,

I regret to inform you that the Lady Season Chatsworth is a guest of mine until such time as you can procure the release of one Silas Dunsberry. The lady will be shown every courtesy and I will expect the same treatment of Mr. Dunsberry. I will be in touch with you, but meanwhile, may I suggest you seek Silas Dunsberry's release with the utmost haste. I know he is being held somewhere in New York. Remember he must be unharmed or you will never see Lady Season Chatsworth again. You are being watched—I will know if you play me false.

The Raven

"Damned impudence," Colonel Tibbs raged as he pushed past his wife and ran downstairs to dispatch a quick note to General Clinton.

A short time later General Clinton paced the floor, raising his fist in anger. "This time that upstart has gone too far. Before he was a damned nuisance, but now he has overstepped the bounds of decency! He will swing from the gallows for this piece of work!"

"I fear for my cousin at the hands of such a mad man," Edmund declared angrily. "How was it possible for him to spirit her away right under our noses?"

Colonel Tibbs turned a shamed face toward Edmund Kensworthy. "You have every reason to be put out with me. It was my duty to keep your bride safe until the wedding. I was lax in my duty and will take full responsibility. I can only guess what Lady Season's father's reaction will be when he hears about this atrocity."

General Clinton waved Tibbs's statement aside. "There is no time for recriminations. The utmost priority at the moment is to make sure we meet this man's demands. After Lady Season is safely returned we will deal with this pirate! Believe me, when this is over, heads will roll."

"Let's hope that The Raven's head is the first to go," Edmund spoke up.

"Perhaps he will do as the note says and release Lady Season when Silas whatever-his-name-is is set free," the general's aide spoke up.

"Dunsberry," Colonel Tibbs offered. " Silas Dunsberry."

"You do intend to give The Raven this man in exchange for my cousin, don't you, General?" Edmund asked.

"Hell, yes. I have no choice. I have already sent a man with orders to release the prisoner. We cannot afford to make any slips. The Raven has ears everywhere. It goes against everything I believe to give in to this blackguard, but my hands are tied. At this time, all that matters is that we get Lady Season back safely."

"I am in agreement with you, sir," Edmund said.

"I'm half out of my mind with worry over Season."

"I know you are, my boy—we all are. I am upping the reward on The Raven's head. I will make it so high that his own mother would turn on him to collect. Soon there will be nowhere he can hide!"

Season awoke to the sound of a key grating in the lock. Sitting up, she noticed it was morning and sunlight was streaming into the cabin through the high, oval-shaped porthole. She had lived through her ordeal and by some miracle she was still alive.

When the door swung open she grabbed the bedcovers and pulled them up to her throat, expecting to see the mysterious captain of the ship enter. She blinked her eyes with relief as a short, sturdily built man with salt and pepper hair entered and smiled brightly at her.

"My name's Briggs, my lady. We met briefly last night when I showed you to this cabin, but there weren't no time to pass pleasantries then. I brought you something to eat."

Season gave the little man a scalding glance. "I have no intention of eating your food. I wish to see your captain at once," she demanded, while giving him what she hoped would be her most authoritative look.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't honor your wish. The captain's a busy man. I'll just put the tray down here on the desk. You might feel hungry later."

"I will not change my mind. You are a pirate, and I will never partake of your food." Season's anger soared when she saw that her words only brought a sad smile to the little man's face.

"Now I can see how we might look like a motley lot to you, but I can promise you we aren't classed as pirates, my lady. With my captain in command, you will be as safe as you would be if you was back in your own bed in England." His soft blue eyes moved over Season's lovely face, and he laughed. "I wonder if my captain will be safe from you, though?"

"You may leave now," Season declared, turning away from Briggs. She had seen nothing to fear from this man who spoke so respectfully to her and seemed to have the kindest blue eyes.

Briggs nodded his head and swept her a graceful bow before departing the cabin. Season heard the key grinding in the lock once more and knew she had been locked in again.

Easing herself off the bed, she walked over to the desk and glanced down at the breakfast tray. The ham smelled delicious, and her mouth watered when she saw slices of melon and two generous pieces of bread spread with creamy yellow butter. She closed her eyes against the tempting aroma of brewed tea.

"I won't weaken," Season said aloud. "I will not eat that man's food!" She decided she would rather starve to death than put one morsel of food in her mouth, and closing her mind to her hunger, she paced the length of the floor and back.

She couldn't help but notice that the cabin wasn't filthy as she had feared last night. In fact, it was spotlessly clean. The oak deck gleamed brightly, reflecting the sunlight off its smooth surface, and the dark wall paneling smelled of lemon oil. The bed coverings were snowy white. Season doubted that there was a speck of dust in the whole cabin.

She walked back to the heavy, hand-carved desk and flipped open the lid of a small mother-of-pearl box she found sitting there. Inside the box she found several cheroots. Turning around, her eyes swept the cabin. There were shelves running along the length of one wall, and she saw that they were crammed with maps.

She gripped the edge of the desk so tightly her knuckles whitened. There was no doubt in Season's mind; she was in the captain's cabin! She felt panic! Only moments ago she had told Briggs she wanted to see the captain; now she was afraid he would come to see her!

Glancing down at her thin lace nightgown, Season looked about for something with which to cover herself. She spotted the bundle on the floor, and knew she would find some of her clothing inside.

Going down on her knees, she loosened the knot and found to her relief that the man had brought several of her gowns. The Raven had not robbed her as she had supposed; he had merely picked out what he thought she would need. From the looks of the bounty, he had left nothing out. There were shoes, hairbrushes, underclothing, and even a bar of soap.

Sitting back on her heels, Season wondered why The Raven had brought so many of her belongings. Evidently he intended her to be on this ship for a long time. She was now more frightened than if he had merely stolen her jewels. Where was he taking her? Would she ever be free again?

Season feared The Raven would enter the cabin at any moment, so she quickly slipped into one of the three gowns she had to choose from. She found that the captain had overlooked one important item; he had not included a hoop in the bundle. Her green velvet gown dragged on the deck, and she would have to be careful not to trip on it.

Picking up her ivory-handled hairbrush, Season began to brush the tangles from her hair. Just because she was a prisoner didn't mean she couldn't look her best. She would not cower in the corner like some lost soul. When The Raven did come, he would see that she wasn't intimidated by him.

Hours passed while Season paced the cabin floor restlessly. She remembered the time her father had taken her to visit the king; she had been no more than ten. It had been the only time her father had taken her to London and she had been filled with excitement. One afternoon, one of Queen Charlotte's serving ladies had taken her to visit the wild animals that were kept in cages near the palace. That day Season had watched a magnificent lioness pace the length of her cage. She remembered feeling sad that such a magnificent animal should be kept in a cage. She now knew how that lioness had felt. Season was restless and could feel her calm slipping with each passing moment. She was accustomed to roaming free at Chatsworth. She realized that the one way to break her spirit would be to cage her for a long period of time.

Her footsteps lagged, and she sat down on the soft bed, burying her face in her hands. She would not give in to the weakness of tears; no matter what The Raven did to her, he wouldn't break her spirit. She was determined that she wouldn't show weakness while in his presence.

Season heard the grating of the key in the lock, and she almost jumped out of her skin! Watching the door swing open, she clasped her hands tightly together and waited for whoever was about to enter. She was relieved to see it was only Briggs. He was carrying a tray of food, so Season surmised it must be nearing the noon hour.

Briggs clicked his tongue when he saw the uneaten breakfast. "You really must try to eat, my lady. A wee little lass like yourself could just waste away to nothing in no time at all if you don't eat. The captain wouldn't like you to become ill from lack of food."

"How I choose to treat my own body is of no concern to you or your captain," Season said, tossing her golden mane in defiance. "If you want that food eaten, then eat it yourself."

Briggs merely smiled kindly and shook his head. "You won't be hurting no one but yourself if you don't eat, my lady. You haven't seen the captain when he doesn't get his way. I've seen grown men cringe when he's out of sorts."

"What do you expect of me, Mr. Briggs? Should I say 'Yes, Captain', 'No, Captain', 'Whatever you want, Captain.' I didn't ask to be put on this ship. I have no control over my life, except to say whether I will or will not eat!" she stormed defiantly.

Briggs made no reply. He placed the lunch tray on the desk and left with the breakfast tray. Season watched him leave and listened to the key turning in the lock.

The delicious aroma of the food assaulted Season's senses. She tried to think of something that would take her mind off her hunger. For some reason unknown to her, she was being held prisoner by The Raven. Her father was a wealthy man, and she realized the colonists must have heard about her arrival in New York. She supposed that by taking her captive they were striking a blow at the English aristocracy.

Season smiled bitterly. If The Raven were to demand a ransom for her safe return, she knew her father would pay. How long would it take for word to reach her father in England, and how much time would pass before he could deliver the money to The Raven? Today was the first day of her captivity, and she was almost out of her mind already from being locked in this cabin.

Perhaps she deserved to have this happen to her, Season thought, weighing her guilt for the first time. In the past hadn't she only been interested in her own wants? Not once had she considered her father's feelings. Twice her father had arranged marriages for her, and twice she had balked. Had her father been right when he had called her an ungrateful child? Wouldn't marriage to her cousin, Edmund, be preferable to the situation she now found herself facing?