THE CRY FOR FREEDOM (Winds of Betrayal) (2 page)

She glanced down at the lovely emerald gown
in which Mother Agnes had spent so much time and effort. The gown did little to enhance her aspiration, not with the tight elbow length sleeves trimmed with its frilly lace. She hadn't a choice. She hitched up the hem of her gown. Cursing under her breath, she grabbed hold of the lowest branch, ignoring the tugging against her bodice.

In the tree a moment later, she stretched out her neck. Alas, she
couldn’t see over the edge. She needed to go up only a tad more. She reached for a higher branch, but the buckle of her shoe caught on the edge of the bark. Losing her footing, she slipped. She froze. Her foot wedged soundly in the extension of the tree. She couldn’t move. She was stuck.
She jerked at it, but her position wouldn’t let her do much more.

Oh, Mother of All!
What was she going to do? She couldn’t get caught this way! Mother Agnes will kill her if she hears about this.
Don’t panic
.
Relax.
She strained, tugging hard at her confined foot. Giving no thought to modesty, she pulled her skirt up over her knees and got a better grip on her leg.…

“Would you like some help?” a masculine voice startled her.

“No, I’m fine,” she said mockingly. “I often choose to dance in trees.”

Her mind raced, trying desperately to figure out who the voice could be. It was definitely male, but she wasn’t familiar with it, and, to make matters worse, she couldn’t turn to see because she was stuck in this…this…tree.

A man laughed softly and walked in front of her. At first she was thankful she’d never seen him before. Powerfully built, he stood more than six feet tall. On second glance, even from her position she had to admit he was undeniably handsome, his hair dark, his chin firm. In the moonlight, amusement shone in his bold, dark eyes.

“Well, I guess I could leave you in that plight if you wish.” His voice resonated a different accent than was heard in Virginia or the colonies for that matter. He was foreign to these parts and to make matters worse
—
British?

She wanted nothing more than to tell the Brit to leave, but then what would she do?

She sighed. “No, please help me. I need only a slight tug. I don’t know how my foot got stuck…”

“It
is
a wonder,” he answered, grinning broadly. “How could one ever expect to find herself in such a fix when she climbs trees in her ball gowns?”

Not daring to look directly at him, she dropped her hem back over her leg.

“Oh, no, my lady,” said the man. “To make even a slight tug, I shall need to grab hold of that leg.”

Despite her position in the tree, Hannah looked into his eyes, which stared at her with the most discomfiting gleam. Heat rushed to her face. “I think it will be better if you go and get my brother.…”

She heard a shuffling sound, went silent and glanced up, past the strange man’s head. Someone was coming to the window. Without warning, a hand gripped her ankle and, ever so gently and quickly, withdrew her caught foot from its confinement. Surprised by his quick action, she fell forward. Her hands desperately reached around to grasp hold of something, anything to avert landing on the ground beneath the tree. Strong arms encircled her and drew her backward into an embrace.

She would have cried out had the man’s hand not covered her mouth. He whispered “Ssh!” in her ear and drew her against the wall behind the shrubbery.

Her heart pounded. Above her she heard her father mutter, “Thought I heard something. Must have been the wind.” The window clicked shut.

For what seemed an eternity, she remained motionless, surrounded by his arms. She heard nothing, aside from her own heart beating.

Before she could take another breath, he took her prisoner in his arms. The whole of her body tingled with awareness of his being...his touch. He stared into her eyes. She had only time to gasp in bewilderment as his mouth descended down upon hers. He kissed her. Dazed, his touch paralyzed her. Her heart fluttered madly with the sensation of his lips upon hers.

To her astonishment, she felt his tongue press upon her lips. Lost in the moment, she responded with the surging fe
rvor erupting within her. She opened her mouth to him, and his tongue surged inside, probing, pushing within her. His arms tightened around her and brought her body up to his.

He kissed her again. Harder. More demanding. Within her, a small voice echoed the danger this man presented. She ignored it. Her resistance faded as pleasurable sensations cascaded throughout her body.

The stranger stopped and broke from her lips. Opening her eyes, reality jolted her out of her trance. Stunned not only by the stranger’s actions, but her own.

She had been kissed before by Gabriel, but never in this manner! The nerve! How dare he! The scandal that he could cause!

Her hands braced against him and pushed back. She swung her hand back to slap him. He would have none of that. He grasped her arm, blocking the blow.

“Oh, no, my lady,” he said softly in a low husky voice. “We can’t have that! I only took a small payment for saving you from a most embarrassing situation.”

“Let go of me this instant! I’ll tell.…”

“Tell your brothers, your father? You want one of them to deal with me? I don’t believe that would be a wise move,
Hannah Corbett
.”

She recoiled slightly. “How do you know my name?”

“Pray, let me introduce myself,” he said with a tinge of arrogance and a slight bow. “Marcus Durham. I’m here with your uncle, Richard Wick. Your grandparents have asked me to see what I can do to retrieve you and bring you back to New York with us.”

Hannah’s pride scorched; her eyes flared. She
 could feel his gaze, watching, waiting for her reaction.
The impudence!
She uttered under her breath, “I wish only that
I
could call you out!”

He laughed with a playful lightness that only served to
 irritate her further. He said, “I don’t mean to annoy, you, Miss Corbett. I would have thought you’d be happy not to have been discovered in that tree!”

“Please let go of me!” she insisted, jerking her hand.

He didn't. “In truth, Miss Corbett,” he said. “I’d been looking for a dance with you when I saw you walk out onto the veranda. But if you’ll give me but a few moments to explain, your grandmother has asked me to perform a small favor.”

“My grandmother?” her voice softened at the mention. “Do you know her? And what—”

“Come,” he said, relaxing his grip. “Let’s find a more conventional place to hold our conversation.” He glanced around and added, “I’d hate for us to be found in a compromising situation.”

His hand reached for her elbow. Not willing to call attention to herself, she allowed his touch. He escorted her up the wide steps of the veranda. Thankful no one seemed to take much notice of her sudden appearance, her confidence returned.

She turned, facing the stranger. She pushed him back harshly and uttered under her breath. “Don’t hover over me!”

“Temper, temper,”“ he said lightly. “It would be well to learn to hold it—”

“Don’t lecture me, Mr. Durham. You have no right.
I don’t know you, nor do I care to know you. I find you exceedingly pompous and presumptuous.”

“Is being impetuous and impulsive any improvement?” he countered. “Doesn’t it
 occur to you that your rash actions may lead to certain…consequences?”

“My actions and their consequences are no concern of yours,” she seethed. “I don’t like you or the way you’re doubtless thinking you’re intimidating me! I don’t care if you
are
here with my uncle. Which, I might add, doesn’t in the least endear you to me.”

“I might grant that, Miss Corbett,” he shrugged, “but I mentioned earlier, I have a request of you, from your grandmother in New York.”

“So you mentioned before. What does it concern?”

“I also know your cousins, Camilla and Susanna,” he went on. “They all send their regards—but your grandmother has sent an invitation to you to visit her in New York, if you choose. You could even return with your uncle and myself.”

Her eyebrows rose slightly, and she forced a laugh. “I don’t think so. I have other plans. I’ll visit my family in New York in my own time.”

He took her chin firmly in his hand and tilted her face up to his. For an instant, he stared deep into her eyes. Then he uttered under his breath, “You have the most beautiful, unusual blue eyes.”

Shock vibrated through her, and she drew back. When she had collected herself she said, “Mr. Durham, for someone I don’t know, you’re taking far too many liberties….”

“Please, my name is Marcus,” he broke in with a grin.

“Marcus, then,” she conceded, but added bluntly, “I have no intention of going to my grandparents’ at this time.”

“Does it not interest you that they could give you many advantages you don’t have here? They have considerable wealth…” His tone changed to a more serious in nature. He watched, studying her reaction.

Her mouth curved upward in a knowing smile, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “They could find me a rich husband—is that what you’re implying?”

“You find that amusing?”

She eyed him, her lips curled in scorn. “Do you think that’s what I’m looking for? Or that’s what I
should
be looking for?” She waved a hand. “I find I don’t care for this conversation. I don’t like you or what you may consider your methods of persuasion. I’m where I’m supposed to be—here. This is what I love—my freedom. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. And, Marcus, I’m not poor. I have all I want or need.”

“Oh, Hannah, there you are! And you, Mr. Durham…” Mother Agnes’ voice burst through the open air. She advanced to Hannah's side and took her arm. She looked from the stranger to her stepdaughter and back, exhaling with exasperation. “Hannah, no one knew where you had disappeared to. We’re about to sit for supper.…”

“Then,” Marcus interjected, “let me escort both you lovely ladies to the table.”

Hannah stared at her stepmother. Mother Agnes was flustered. Comprehension dawned upon her. Mother Agnes was acquainted with this disturbing man.

Blustered, Mother Agnes answered, “I believe my husband—”

Marcus held up a hand, and then laid his arm out for Hannah to accept. “Then it would seem
Miss Corbett
has no escort. It would be my pleasure to assume that role.”

He shifted his position, blocking Mother Agnes’ view and plucked a twig from Hannah’s unruly hair. He flashed an irritating smile he evidently thought so charming. Hannah wanted to slap it off his face. She had no desire for more of his company. A protest sat upon her lips. Instead with a frown, she accepted his arm
.

Morning dawned, a glorious sunrise. The reddish tinge reflecting off the scattered clouds promised a brilliant day. Hannah watched it from her bedroom window. A peaceful night’s sleep had eluded her. Last night’s experiences replayed constantly in her head every time she closed her eyes.

A knock on her door disturbed her thoughts. Without waiting for a reply, it opened. Mary, one of her father's house blacks, brought in Hannah’s breakfast tray.

“Good mornin’, Miss Hannah,” Mary said merrily with her broad, bright smile. “Mist’ Corbett tole me ya’ mite feel like takin’ yo’ breakfast in yo’ room this mornin’. She done tole me ya’ woulda sleep late, but I knew. I knew ya’ be up.”

“I'm not hungry, Mary.”

“Are ya sure, 'cause it’s warm? Jinnie jus’ made ‘em.” Mary sat the tray down on the table beside Hannah’s bed.

Hannah turned her head to Mary and curved her lips slightly upward. “You can eat it if you want, Mary.”

“Ya sure, Miss Hannah?” Mary said. Instantly the fork dug into the eggs and went to her mouth. “Don’t wanna to take ‘em if ya’ want ‘em,” she mumbled as she chewed. “Jinnie will slap me silly.”

“I'm fine,” Hannah sighed.

Mary, only a couple of years older than Hannah, loved to talk more than work, according to Hannah’s father; that was, in truth, why she’d managed to come to Hannah’s home. Her father bought her from a plantation owner who, in Father’s opinion, had abused her with a whip. Hannah shuddered to think about it.

When they’d discussed the subject, Mary had told Hannah, “Don’t let it bodder ya’, Miss Hannah. Yer fader is a great man, yesum. He took me. Mr. Warren warned ‘em. Said I was no good, lazy. Look at me today—all thanks to yer fader.”

Just seconds later, Mary put the fork down on the near-empty plate. She said, “Gimme me a sec’ and I getca’ dressed. Ya’ looked so beautiful last night. Ya’ did. Sham’ Mr. Gabriel didn’t see ya’ all dressed up like ya’ were. But Jinnie said ya’ get in trouble anyway, says trouble follows some folks, you bein’ one ‘em. That's what Jinnie said. What did ya’ do this time? Mist’ Corbett's in a bad mood.…”

“Why do you always assume it has to do with me?” Hannah frowned.

“Cause it always does!” Mary giggled. “Member time ya’ left before it was yer turn to play—”

“The harpsichord?”