Surrender (4 page)

“Will he?”

“Indeed, I swear it! And I have been raised around military men all of my life, McKenzie. I can survive damned well, no matter what the circumstances. And I will get away from you, and I will tell the Union Navy—”

“Oh, really? I don’t think so. Not now, you won’t.”

He smiled pleasantly and leaned close. She was painfully aware then of her ragged state of undress, and of his build, so like Ian’s. Long, hard, honed as tight as a drum. A
savage
drum. An Indian, and a Rebel.

“You
will
let me go now!” she whispered desperately.

He shook his head. Dark hair fell over one sharp blue eye. He assessed her in a sweeping gaze. She felt the pressure of his body.

“Miss Magee, your pardon, but we are at war, and you are very definitely the enemy.”

“
You
are the enemy!”

“Perhaps, the way you see it—but now you are a prisoner of the Confederate States of America.”

“I will not be a prisoner of the Confederacy! I will be damned before I will be a prisoner of the Confederacy. I will escape!”

He smiled grimly. He leaned even closer. “Miss Magee, you will be
my
prisoner. And I promise you, I’ll be damned before I let you escape!”

I
n all her life, Risa couldn’t remember being so acutely uncomfortable. Bedraggled, half-naked, and pinioned. It was all the worse to realize that he assumed she wouldn’t be at all adverse to this position if only he were Ian. It would be ridiculous to try to explain to him that things would have gone no further
had
he been Ian, and it was also infuriating to have to tell herself that she owed this wretched creature no explanations whatsoever. He meant to keep her a prisoner! And it was all the more deplorable because she felt as if she were on fire, disturbingly aware of his every brush against her flesh. More than anything, she needed to escape her current position beneath his overpowering weight and strength.

“Really?” she lashed out with all the contempt she could draw into her voice. “
You’re
going to keep me prisoner? Will you spend the rest of the evening as a human shackle?”

He arched a brow, a slow smile creeping into his features. “Think of me as Ian. It will not be half so bad.”

“Let me up! Where is your Southern honor, sir?”

“Consider this Southern hospitality, if not honor.”

“Let me up—”

She broke off, because, to her amazement, he was rising, and something in his features alerted her to the fact that he had suddenly, and totally, dismissed her. He was a cat who had tired of playing with a mouse. She didn’t even have time to spring up defensively on her own. He reached a hand down to her, drawing her up. “If you’ll be good enough to escort yourself to the guest room, you’ll find clothing in the wardrobe, and a more comfortable place in which to be held. There will be a guard at your door, and on the porch, should you be so
inclined as to try to escape through the windows. For your own safety, I warn you that this is indeed a dangerous land for those unfamiliar with it. Should you wish to survive this war, you’d be best to accept the hospitality we offer.”

“Wait a minute—”

“I can’t. If I am to be of any service to Ian or Alaina, I must move now. That was your intent in coming here, right? To save Alaina’s life? If so, I suggest you cooperate immediately.”

She stared at him furiously, her jaw clamped. She managed to speak. “One question.”

“What?” he snapped.

“Where is the guest room?”

He pointed down a hallway. She rotated about and walked, aware that he followed her on a silent tread. She didn’t turn around, and yet as she moved down the hallway she was certain she could feel his breath, like a tongue of dragon’s fire along her spine. She longed to spin around, unnerved by his nearness, yet she managed not to do so.

“To your left,” he said curtly, and she turned.

A single lamp sat atop a warm wood dresser in the room while a fire burned in the hearth beneath a handsome, coral rock mantle. Alaina’s home might verge on savage swampland, but it was a very pleasant place nonetheless. The walls were covered with a blue-patterned paper, the four-postered bed boasted a beautiful quilt. A wardrobe, trunk, the dresser, a screen, and washstand completed the amenities. In the center of the room, she turned back to discover that Jerome remained in the doorway, his eyes now darkly enigmatic.

“May I suggest,” he said very softly, “that if I find Ian and Alaina, you remember that they are married?”

She had never longed so to strike anyone before in all her life. She folded her hands before her, summoning what dignity she could in her tattered state.

“You may suggest, sir, whatever you damn well choose, since I’ve no power over your suggestions,” she replied. “Yet what an intriguing comment you make. It makes one wonder if
you
remember they are married when you are with Alaina.”

He smiled, unruffled by her attack. “Alaina is like a sister to me.”

“How charming; how very sweet.”

He shrugged, turning around, about to close the door on her. She remained in the center of the room, the previous hours a blur shooting before her eyes as she tried to assimilate how the night had gone so very wrong, and then—with a tremendous sense of guilt—she remembered Finn.

“Wait!” she cried out, just as the door was about to close. She flew for it and all but threw herself back into his arms as he heeded her cry and opened the door again before she could reach it. With a gasp of dismay she steadied herself, backing into the room again.

“Yes?” he inquired, amused.

“What happened to Finn?”

“Finn?”

“My friend. The young man with me in the boat.”

“Ah! Finn!” he murmured, shaking his head sorrowfully. “Well, he should hang, you know.”

“Hang!” she exclaimed incredulously. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why should he hang? For what great sin?”

“We are at war, and though neither you nor my misguided cousin seem to realize it, this is a
Southern
state. Your friend Finn is a Yank spy out of St. Augustine, isn’t he?”

“No! Don’t be absurd. He’s not even military. He’s not a spy, honest to God—”

“That’s rather hard to believe.”

“Why is it so hard to believe? I’m telling you the truth. Damn you! You’re Southern, and I made this ridiculous trip at the risk of my own life to save that of a Southern spy! Now you’re threatening an innocent young man—”

“He’s innocent by your say-so.”

“Yes!”

He was silent, watching her. Goading her, she thought, and yes! She was tempted to strike out with all her strength. Prudence kept her from doing so. She forced herself to remain dead still. How did a reasonable man like Ian have a cousin so despicably irritating?

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I admit, I
do see all this as something of a dilemma. I don’t
want
to hang the young man. And I don’t want to keep you prisoner. I have no choice. I can’t possibly let you go with the information you overheard. On the other hand, I have to look for Ian and Alaina. But I can’t let you cause bloodshed among us. So there might be room for negotiation here.”

“Negotiation! I can’t begin to see—”

“Ah, well, then, think about it, Miss Magee. I’ve been told you are a woman of some intelligence, though one might doubt it from your actions tonight. You—”

“How dare you!” she grated out furiously, shaking.

“May I finish?”

“Only if you intend to assure me I don’t need to worry about an innocent man’s life.”

“Your belated concern is quite laudable.”

Oh! She wanted to hit the man! Yet her guilt over all but forgetting Finn—despite the circumstances—kept her silent.

She wondered if Jerome McKenzie read her thoughts as he appraised her with his steady, dark blue gaze. “You want to keep your friend alive. We’ll make a bargain. You stay here meek as a lamb and don’t dare give either my men—or my family—the least bit of trouble. And when I come back for you, you swear that you’ll not try throwing yourself into my cousin’s arms again and begging for his help against me. Do you understand?”

Risa felt the blood drain from her face. She looked down. “You couldn’t possibly murder a man simply because I chose not to cooperate!” she murmured.

“How on earth could you know what I would or wouldn’t do?” he asked her flatly. “This is war, Miss Magee. And a difficult war it is here, on this isle. Not only is your friend’s life at stake, but if you cry to Ian that you are in distress, you could easily bring us to blows. And though he is the one enemy I fear in battle, I am equally the one enemy he hopes never to face. If you want to assure yourself that his blood is not spilt here and that Alaina survives the war as well, heed what I’ve said.”

He turned again, finished.

“Wait!” she called one more time.

“What now?”

“Finn—is alive?”

“He is.”

“You swear it?”

He watched her with a wry expression. “Yes, I swear it.”

“How can I trust you?”

“You just asked me to swear. I’ve given you my word.”

“Your word! You pretended to be another man—”

“No, Miss Magee, I pretended nothing. You wanted me to be another man. Don’t ever doubt my word; I don’t give it lightly. Now, what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve given you my word, now you must do the same. Swear that you’ll give me no more trouble.”

“But—I can’t. I don’t see how—”

“I’m sure your friend Finn would be greatly distressed to know that you hesitated so with his life in the balance.”

“Damn you!” She didn’t want to swear anything to him. “Have it as you wish!” She hoped that would be good enough.

It wasn’t.

He arched a brow. “I’m sorry?”

“So am I. Damned sorry.”

“Miss Magee, I want your word, please.”

“Fine! I swear!”

He studied her, nodding slightly. “Fine. Bear in mind that I don’t give my word lightly, nor do I accept yours lightly in return. If I’m to be of any good to either my cousin or Alaina, I must get moving quickly.”

“I cannot just wait here, a prisoner in this room—”

“Then, don’t just wait. Pray. Pray that I find Ian and Alaina. Because these are dangerous games you and Alaina have chosen to play.”

With that, the door closed, and she was left alone.

Jerome McKenzie paused very briefly in the doorway. He set his hands out before him, and gritted his teeth as he saw them shaking. Damn the war.

Damn his own part in it.

And damn Alaina for being such a determined little fool, and Ian for being the enemy. And damn the elegant and foolhardy auburn-haired wench in Belamar’s guest room. He’d almost killed her; he’d been very afraid at first that in his attempt to stop her from her reckless dive into the sea he had cracked her skull. But she’d been alive, and before he’d even had the opportunity to speak to her, she’d mistaken him for Ian and spilled out all that she’d heard about his plans to take the
Maid of Salem
.

So he now knew Risa. The woman whom Ian had intended to marry before fate had stepped in. Leave it to Ian, he thought wryly. She was beautiful, passionate—and reckless as all hell. She was still in love with his cousin, so it seemed, but now she had become his prisoner—and a threat to them all. His softhearted parents were due back from their home just north of here to tend to Alaina’s property—a task they had taken on while the rest of the family fought out the war on their different sides. If Risa Magee threw herself on his mother’s mercy, or looked to his sister or family for help, there could be real trouble between them all.

It was a dangerously explosive situation.

It didn’t matter, he told himself grimly. He did have to move fast. Ian and Alaina must be found. And Alaina must be kept alive.

He moved away from the door and hesitated another fraction of a second. He didn’t have the manpower he needed to guard his reckless prisoner properly. His threats were mainly a bluff—he had no intention of hanging the disarming Finn, but Risa Magee was a serious danger since he was certain she would risk life and limb again in service to the Union if need be, and if threats would help make her more reasonable, he would gladly use them.

He couldn’t risk her escaping him. Perhaps there was a painless measure he could take to make sure she didn’t.

Grimly, he started from the house, then shouted out his orders to the few men he had with him on the islet.

The first hour he was gone, she paced.

She was too restless to sit still and too nervous to attempt escape.

She began to feel more and more uncomfortable as the fire dried the last of the salty dampness from her clothing. On impulse she tore into the wardrobe. Alaina was petite; Risa was tall, but anything had to be better than the tatters she was wearing. Yet she quickly ascertained that this wardrobe held clothing belonging to someone else. She found pantalets and a chemise that would fit her well enough, along with an array of dresses that were equally as long.

The washstand offered a full pitcher of fresh water. She doused her face, then stripped away her salt-stiffened, shredded garments. Once bare, she washed quickly and thoroughly with the cold water, down to the length of her hair. She dried herself and donned the new garments she had chosen, heedless of to whom they might belong. Perhaps Ian’s wretched Rebel cousin kept a mistress. Good. She hoped the woman would be furious that her clothing had been taken, and that she would make his life miserable.

Yet perhaps this Jerome McKenzie had a wife of his own.

Did a man with a wife act as he had tonight?

She felt her cheeks begin to burn. She didn’t want to remember what had happened. She had to set her mind to her predicament. Just exactly what had she sworn? He had demanded her word, yet what had she promised …

Not to give him anymore trouble.

Well, he wasn’t here. She could, however,
cause
him trouble. She walked to the windows, drawing back the draperies to look out on the night.

The moon had risen high, casting the sky into a strange, but very beautiful, indigo color. She wondered if she might crawl out the window and find some means of escape. She really couldn’t stay here, and surely, he couldn’t really expect her not to try to escape. Yet as she weighed her chances, someone paced by—a guard with a rifle resting on his shoulder.