The Raider by Jude Deveraux Page A

see you.”
    Jess knew Abigail was lying through her teeth. “Good evening. Fine clear night it’s going to be, isn’t it?”
    Abby leaned forward in conspiracy. “Did you hear about Mr. Sampson? He brought in tea today and he didn’t go through England. Do you think Mr. Pitman will find out?”
    Jessica couldn’t speak she was so astonished. If Abigail had heard of the tea, then of course Pitman had. “I have to warn Ben,” was all Jess was able to say at last. She started toward the porch stairs with Abby, who had no intention of missing out on the excitement, close on her heels, when they were nearly run down by a man dressed in black riding a big black horse.
    Both women came to a halt, Jess with her arm across Abby’s chest in a protective gesture.
    â€œJess,” Abby said breathlessly, “was that man wearing a mask?”
    Jessica didn’t answer but took off running, following the masked man’s trail of dust. Abigail pulled her skirts to her knees, praying that her mother or the church deacons wouldn’t see her, then followed Jessica.
    They stopped at Ben Sampson’s house. There were six British soldiers holding muskets on Ben.
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ben lied, and the sweat pouring off his face in spite of the cool evening air gave him away.
    â€œOpen up in the name of John Pitman, the king’s agent,” one of the soldiers said, raising his musket higher.
    â€œWhere’s the man in black?” Abigail whispered.
    Jessica listened to the sounds of the town and the evening. “There,” she whispered, directing her glance toward the trees behind Ben’s house. She saw a movement then grabbed Abby’s plump arm and pulled her to the safety of the porch of the house across the street. They had just reached safety when all hell broke loose.
    The masked man rode toward the soldiers, a weighted fishing net spreading behind him. The element of surprise was on his side, for the soldiers and Ben all stopped to gawk at him. The masked rider flung the net over four of the soldiers, then pulled a pistol on the other two. About the rider’s belt was an arsenal of weapons. Instinctively, the men who weren’t ensnared in the net dropped their muskets. The trapped ones still had their guns, but their hands were struggling with the net rather than with triggers.
    â€œNo man from Warbrooke has tea that hasn’t been declared,” the man on the horse said. He spoke with an odd accent, not quite English, not quite like the people whose families had been in America for generations.
    Abigail looked at Jess and started to say something in protest, but Jess shook her head.
    â€œGo back to your master and tell him that if he falsely accuses again, he’ll have to answer to the Raider.” He tossed the lead line of the net to one of the soldiers. “Take them back.”
    The man who called himself the Raider rode past Ben and the soldiers, the horse’s hoofs striking very close to their legs.
    As he rode past Abigail and Jessica standing on their high perch of the porch, he reined his horse sharply and looked at them.
    Even with the mask covering the upper half of his face and the tricorn pulled low, he was a handsome man. Piercing black eyes were fiercely alive behind the silk mask and below it was a sensual, full mouth with finely chiseled lips. His black silk shirt, black pants and boots clung to his broad-shouldered, muscular body.
    Abigail gave a heartfelt sigh and nearly swooned under the Raider’s gaze. She would have fallen if Jess hadn’t caught her beneath the arm and held her upright.
    The Raider’s lips stretched into a smile, not a grin, but a smile of such sweetness and knowing that Jess had to hold onto Abby with added strength.
    Still smiling, the Raider leaned forward, put his big hand behind Abby’s neck and kissed her long and sensually.
    By now the