Surrender the Night (48 page)

Rose gasped and stared at Alex.

Thunder roared, rattling the windows.

Alex flashed a smile her way, then knelt by the man and began unbuttoning the brass buttons on his coat. “Quick. Take off your clothes.”

“What?” Rose shook her head as if Alex’s words had somehow become jumbled.

“Your clothes, Rose.” His voice was urgent. “I’ll turn my head.”

Slipping into the shadows, Rose hesitated for a moment until she realized what he intended to do. She wanted to protest the mad idea, but her voice once again would not cooperate. Instead, she clutched her gown and lifted it over her head.

Alex made quick work of the man’s brass buttons and tore off his coat, then began fidgeting with his fatigue jacket beneath. “Your petticoat, Rose. I need your petticoat.” His voice was gentle, but commanding, brooking no argument—just as Rose assumed he sounded when he shouted orders aboard his ship.

Lifting off her petticoat, she tossed it to him. It landed by his side as he removed the man’s linen shirt. Shouts and laughter echoed through the house. Rose’s fingers shook as she attempted to unhook her stays. Without success.

Rain pattered on the roof, matching the frenzied beat of her heart. Smoke filtered into the room. An off-key ballad chimed from somewhere in the house. She cleared her throat. “I need … I need help
with my stays.” Too embarrassed to face him, she turned around and stared at the cracks in the dark wall.

She heard his boots clap over the floor, felt his warmth at her back, his breath on her neck, and his fingers groping at the laces. “Upon my honor, how do you wear these infernal things?”

Rose suppressed a giggle, felt her stays loosen, her breath release, and heard him depart. She swerved about to see him with his back to her again. Such a gentleman. He removed the man’s shoes then began tugging down his trousers as Rose shrugged out of her stays. They fell to the floor, leaving only a thin chemise between her and the world. Between her and this man. A chill struck her and she hugged herself and receded farther into the shadows. Two months ago, she would have been horrified to be so scantily clad in a man’s presence. But she trusted Alex more than she’d ever trusted anyone. And despite their terrifying circumstances, she found an odd comfort in that realization.

Alex gathered the man’s clothing in a pile and pushed them toward her. “Put these on.”

Rose stooped to pick them up. “Surely they won’t fit.”

“We’ll make them fit. It’s the only way.”

The shrill tear of fabric echoed through the room from Alex’s direction. Rose donned the trousers, then slipped on the linen shirt, fatigue jacket, coat and shoes. Her feet swam in the buckled black boots, and the coat hung nearly to her knees. She had to hold the trousers up to keep them from falling. How would she ever pass for a British soldier?

Using the strips of torn petticoat, Alex bound the man’s feet and hands, then stuffed a gag in his mouth. He stood. “That should hold him until we get away.”

“I’m dressed.” Rose said, her voice emerging as a squeak.

Alex spun around, grabbed the man’s tall shako from the sofa and handed it to her. “Do your best to stuff your hair into this.”

Rose placed it atop her head and began forcing her thick tresses inside it while Alex tightened her belt around her waist and buttoned the coat buttons. Even with her hair stuffed beneath it, the silly hat kept slipping down her forehead.

Alex stepped back, shook his head and chuckled. “We must keep to the shadows and pray most of the men are well into their cups.”
Lantern light twinkled in his eyes and gleamed off the brass buttons lining his coat. “For I doubt any man with half his wits about him would think you are anything but an alluring female.”

Amazed at his nonchalant attitude, Rose searched her heart for even a speck of courage to match his. Instead, fear knotted in her throat. “Are you sure this will work?”

Alex grabbed her hand and pulled her to the door. “No.”

Not the answer she wanted to hear.

Stopping, he faced her. “Stay behind me. Say nothing and keep your head low.”

Rose nodded. Air seized in her throat. “Lord, help us.”

“Yes, indeed.” He gave her a half smile, cupped her chin, and kissed her. “It will be all right.” Then he lengthened his stance, threw back his shoulders, and marched from the room as if he owned the night.

Rose followed him down a long hallway to a flight of stairs. He led her down them as the sounds of mayhem and madness assailed her from all directions: crashes, thumps, and the crackle of fire. Smoke stung her nose. Thunder bellowed and drunken laughter grated on her nerves. A mob of soldiers passed on their left, torches in their hands. The smell of alcohol wafted over her. Rose’s knees quaked. But the men seemed more intent on setting fire to the house than on paying her and Alex any mind.

Rose’s teeth began to chatter. Perspiration slid down her back beneath the heavy coat. She tried to keep her eyes on Alex’s back, to gain courage from the commanding cut of his uniform, from his confident gait. He led her down another hall to the main set of stairs. Down below, the front entrance of the house beckoned to her.
Freedom. Escape
. But it might as well be as far away as Baltimore, for a crush of sailors and soldiers mobbed the foyer.

Yet Alex didn’t miss a step. No hesitation. No fear.

Heat swamped Rose, and she turned to see flames bursting from the dining room. A lump formed in her throat. She fought back tears. There would be time to mourn for her country later. They started down the stairs. Two sailors brushed past them, laughing. A band of marines huddled near the front door.

They reached the foot of the stairs. They were almost there. Almost free.

Alex nodded at the marines by the door and exited the house. Rose lowered her chin, raised her shoulders, and stepped out behind him. Not until they reached the outer gate did she feel the rain pelting down on her or the breath returning to her lungs. One glance around her told her that Valor was no longer tied to the post. Sweet Valor. She hoped some British redcoat had not confiscated the poor horse.
Please take care of Valor, Lord
. A gust of wind whipped over her, and she pressed a hand upon her hat and followed Alex down Pennsylvania Avenue.

Hurrying her steps, she eased beside him. The clomp of her oversized shoes echoed her betrayal. Rain misted on her, cooling her skin. Bright lights plucked at her curiosity, yet she kept her face down, hidden. When they had walked at least two blocks and the cacophony of destruction had lessened, she dared to lift her chin and scan the surroundings. Fires raged across the city. Unaffected by the rain, flames leaped out of windows and shot from roofs toward heaven. Smoke rose like prayers into the night sky, obscuring the stars and moon.

Rose’s heart collapsed. Her throat burned, and a shiver overtook her despite the heat of the night and the fires. “Dear God, how could this happen?”

Alex started to take her hand, then pulled it away. “I’m sorry, Rose.” Light from the flames flickered determination in his eyes. His jaw tightened. “I’m ashamed of what my countrymen have done.”

Musket shots peppered the sky. An explosion shook the ground.

Alex cast a worried gaze across the scene. “Follow me.” Turning down Thirteenth Street, he plodded forward, head down.

The drum of boots and the clomp of horses tightened Rose’s nerves. She dared a peek at a band of troops heading their way, led by two officers on horseback.

A pig crossed the path in front of them. It stopped, stared at them for a moment before grunting and ambling away.

“Friend of yours?” Alex teased.

Rose flattened her lips. “How can you joke at a time like this?”

“It relieves stress.”

“It’s not working.” Rose glanced down at the oversized attire and her massive footwear that clomped over the sand so loudly—they’d no doubt betray them to the passing troops. She wanted to laugh, wanted
to cry. Instead she softened her step, lowered her chin, and kept her mouth shut. The soldiers passed.

A gust of wind blasted over them. Before she could stop it, Rose’s shako flew from her head. It clunked to the ground, releasing her long golden tresses down her back. She shrieked.

“You there, halt!” A voice blared over them from behind.

Without so much as a glance over his shoulder, Alex grabbed her arm with one hand, withdrew his sword with the other and dashed down the street. Rose ran as fast as her legs and enormous boots would allow. Horse hooves followed them like war drums. Shouts and hollers of jocularity filled the night as if the men were engaged in a fox chase on the English countryside.

Alex ducked in between two brick buildings, batting shrubbery aside with his sword. His breath came hard and heavy. The mad crunch of pebbles beneath their feet sounded like gunshot. His tight grip on her hand was the only thing that kept her going—that gave her hope. One glance over her shoulder revealed flaming torches bobbing atop an incoming wave of soldiers.

“There they are!” one of the men shouted.

Rose’s feet burned. Her heart crashed against her ribs. One of her boots slipped off. Then the other. Sharp rocks tore the skin on her feet. She cried out in pain.

Halting, Alex glanced at her feet then swept her into his arms and continued to barrel down the alleyway out onto a narrow dirt street. His steps were heavy and thick and their pace slowed even as his breath increased. The shouts of their pursuers grew louder.

He set her down and cupped her face gently, lifting her gaze to his. His heavy breath filled the air between them. “Go, hide in that house.” He gestured over her shoulder to a small one-story brick structure. “I’ll draw them away from you.”

“No, I want to stay with you!” Rose tugged on his arm, unable to fathom losing him again.

A sea of torches turned the corner at the end of the street and rumbled toward them like a tidal wave. “They will find us, Rose. There’s no time. Do as I say!” he barked.

Tears filled her eyes and Alex’s figure blurred before her. “Please Alex, don’t leave me.”

Leaning over, Alex kissed the tears flowing down her cheeks then brushed his lips over hers. “I’ll find you. I promise. Now go!”

Turning, Rose forced her feet to run to the house. Opening the door, she slid inside and ran to peer out one of the broken windows. Glass cut her foot and she squelched a cry of pain—pain that she felt both outside and inside as Alex’s dark shape disappeared down the street. A second later, a horde of angry men who appeared more like fire-breathing dragons flew after him.

Leaning back against the inner wall, Rose threw a hand to her chest to slow the frantic beating of her heart. The cold brick of the walls seeped through her gown. “Oh Lord. Please protect him.”

Alex waited long enough to see that Rose had followed his orders, but perhaps he delayed too long. One glance over his shoulder told him the mob of soldiers was only yards behind. Sprinting with all his strength, he forged into the darkness, thankful that this part of town had not yet been set to fire. He heard the stomp of a dozen boots behind him, the diabolical laughter and devilish chuckles of his own countrymen. Men he had supped with, trained with, and marched beside. How quickly things had changed.

One more glance told him that none had separated from the group. They had not seen Rose slip away. Thank God.

Alex dashed between what appeared to be two shops. His thigh cried out in pain. His lungs slammed against this chest.

“There they go!” a belligerent voice trumpeted behind him.

He glanced once more over his shoulder to see a myriad of bobbing torches like lit cannons on the wobbling deck of a ship. Lit to fire at him. Too close. Far too close.

Lord, please don’t let them catch me. For Rose’s sake
.

Alex swung his gaze back forward, tripped over a rock, stumbled past a bush whose sharp branches tore at his coat. He righted himself. A pop of a pistol rang through the air and the shot zipped past his ear.

He burst from the alleyway onto the street and turned right, not hesitating to choose which way. He chose the wrong way. The dark gaping hole of the barrel of a musket nearly impaled him. He stopped just in time before it did.

“One more move and I’ll shoot,” the soldier ordered.

Alex raised his hands in the air as he struggled to regain his breath. In moments he was surrounded by the torch-wielding mob. Sweat streamed down his forehead into his eyes, stinging them. He scanned the faces, twisting and undulating in the flickering torchlight, like sinister demons released from hell.

One man approached him and spit at his feet. “Where is the woman?”

“What woman?”

The man struck Alex across the jaw, sending him reeling to the side. The pain spiked into his mouth and down into his neck.

“Never mind. We shall find her.” The lieutenant snapped his fingers. “Bind him. We’ll see what Cockburn has to say about this traitor.”

CHAPTER 29