The Raider by Jude Deveraux Page B

soldiers and Ben had almost forgotten the reason for the Raider’s appearance. He appealed to their sense of romance and, besides, it meant nothing to the homesick soldiers whether or not they found tea in Ben Sampson’s cellar. Here was a masked man dressed in black, charging about the country and kissing the pretty girls.
    They applauded when the Raider kissed Mistress Abigail, then held their breath when he turned to Mistress Jessica—the woman who’d haunted every man’s dreams but had laughed in the faces of all of them.
    Jessica was astonished at the look in the eye of this man who called himself the Raider when he released Abigail. Did he think she was as foolish as Abigail, who drooled over every man who paid her a compliment?
    As the Raider leaned forward, as if he meant to kiss her also, Jessica leaned backward. She couldn’t move too far as she was still holding Abby upright. “Don’t you touch me,” she hissed at the man.
    She wasn’t prepared for the change in his eyes. It was almost as if he hated her.
    One minute she was standing on the porch, supporting a half-fainting Abigail, and the next she was being pulled across the Raider’s saddle. The pommel hit her in the stomach painfully just as she heard Abigail hit the floor of the porch. She also heard the deafening sound of laughter from the soldiers and Ben. Doors up and down the street began slamming as people came outside, leaving their dinner tables, to see what the commotion was.
    They were greeted by the sight of a man dressed in black with a black face mask, on a black horse, riding down the street with what had to be Mistress Jessica, bottom end up, across the saddle. He was followed by a parade of four soldiers with a net half over their bodies and making no attempt to escape, their net being pulled by two more soldiers, and all of whom were laughing heartily. The soldiers were followed by Ben Sampson, who was supporting a limp-limbed Abigail Wentworth. Down the road, the townspeople saw Mrs. Sampson and her two oldest boys removing crates from their cellar.
    No one had any idea what was going on, but they joined the laughter when the masked man dumped Jessica Taggert in a tub of dirty washwater that Mistress Coffin had slovenly left overnight.
    Jessica looked up, blinking from the washwater in her face.
    â€œPlease apologize for me to Mistress Coffin for ruining her wash,” the Raider called over his shoulder before kicking his horse and disappearing down the street.
    Jessica’s ears were ringing with the people’s laughter as she struggled to get out of the tub. She tried to keep her head up but it wasn’t easy. She was sure every person in Warbrooke was in the street now and watching her.
    With as much dignity as she could muster, she lifted herself out of the tub, knowing that her sailor’s clothes clung to her body and gave the people all around her more reason to laugh.
    Out of nowhere, Nathaniel appeared and took her hand. Dear, sweet Nathaniel, she thought and regretted all the times she’d threatened to kill him for his mischief.
    â€œYou stop laughing at my sister,” he yelled, but no one obeyed him.
    â€œTake me to Eleanor,” Jessica managed to say. She would not cry. Under no circumstances in this world would she cry. She kept her back straight, her chin high and didn’t look right or left.
    Nathaniel, for reasons of his own, led Jessica not to Eleanor but to Sayer Montgomery.
    Jessica, all her energy expended on trying not to cry, just stood there rather stupidly and stared at the old man who’d lost the use of his legs. In her childhood, he’d seemed formidable to her and she hadn’t seen him except in quick glimpses since he’d been injured.
    Vaguely, she was aware of Nate telling the old man what had happened, explaining why Jessica was soaking wet and her fishy clothes were smelling to high heaven, and why her face was fat and puffy