Lawfully Pledged Page 2

  “Family protects one another,” Emma reminded him, using Alden’s own words. “You will always have a roof and a hot meal waiting, brother, in exchange for warning of impending attacks. I cannot see those around me gunned down again in cold blood. There is no justice in being brought low in the name of the king. If he cared about us, he would have listened instead of punishing the colonies repeatedly.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Will you be staying then? Shall I set up a pallet in the cellar to keep up propriety?”

  “No, I thank you. I am heading to Flushing Bay to meet up with someone – the less you know the better if you are questioned.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course,” Alden said politely, rising to his feet. “And thank you for the meal, sister. It was a pleasure to finally meet you. You and my brother will get along famously when he returns home.”

  “If,” Emma corrected quietly, looking away. He felt a wave of sadness tear at his heart thinking of never seeing his younger brother again. Daniel had always been so light-hearted and playful, a wily sort. Losing him would be like the sun being snuffed out suddenly and he wasn’t sure how he would go on without him. He couldn’t allow himself to go down that road mentally.

  Alden had a job to do and meeting up with Nathan was of the utmost urgency. He had removed a redcoat from a soldier he’d found dead and needed to see if he could track down where the British were headed next for General Washington as they came up with a plan on how best to pursue the British.

  “Take care, little sister. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Go with God, Alden.”

  Chapter Three

  September 21st, 1776

  Alden rode for hours on end and worry burned in his gut. Was he too late? He could see the city up ahead smoldering in the late afternoon hours in the distance. Had the British razed the town? Had Washington been defeated? Was he riding directly into a trap?

  As he drew closer, he saw that a good portion of lower Manhattan had been destroyed. There were figures off in the distance nearly indecipherable in the fog and smoke that clung to the ground.

  Slipping from his horse, he disappeared into the remains of an alleyway and changed coats. Removing his dark coat, he slipped on the bright red one and prayed that he wasn’t shot on sight for wearing it. Grabbing the reins, he walked the horse through town, watching all around him for any signs of danger. Walking the horse gave him an excuse for being away – he could claim that the horse had thrown a shoe or went lame.

  The British were very stringent regarding military procedures and he was sure to be dressed down for being almost completely out of uniform as it was. The only thing that would aid his cause was the fact that whoever had been killed was a senior ranking officer. His rank was evident by the silver lace epaulette on his right shoulder. He was pretending and hoped that they didn’t question him. Alden struggled with faking the tight British accent.

  “Ho there! Sir? Just a moment and I’ll fetch you a mount straightaway,” a soldier cried, flagging him down. Alden’s heart beat quickly in his chest; he felt like a complete charlatan. Nodding quickly, he stared stoically ahead like he had the world at his feet. The British respected honor & pride, he’d been coached. He needed to be in and out of town as fast as possible. They were obviously taking over this part of the city – which meant that Washington had actually retreated or was hidden somewhere else.

  As the horse was brought to him, Alden quickly mounted and squared his shoulders regally. He wanted to lean over and throw up as he saw the other soldiers snap to attention. Instead, he gave a tight nod and hoped that none would question him.

  Riding up, he saw that the colonists were scattered in huddles underneath the trees. Some had blankets to fend off the chill in the evening air, while others were simply trying to keep warm with their bodies. Families snuggled together and looked at him warily, making him want to weep at the pain he saw in their eyes. These people had just lost nearly everything. War was so brutal and eviscerated all sense of being. Hope was gone, homes were ransacked or destroyed, and the only thing that grew from battles was rancor and hatred for the enemy… and he was wearing their guise.

  Swallowing hard, Alden wished he had the marble to tuck in his cheek in order to mimic the clipped accent. Surveying the area, his eyes noticed what looked like a tiny frail woman lying in the mud. Her lips were bluish under the gag that bound her mouth and he wondered momentarily if she was even alive. As if she sensed his inner monologue, her eyes opened and met his. Yep, he thought, and saw the burning hatred in those large brown orbs.

  “Have you found the culprit of the fires?” Alden asked, praying that he hadn’t just given himself away. It seemed to work. The nearest soldier snapped to attention at being addressed by a superior officer, which made him curious as to who was in charge here? “Have a care for my temper, soldier, and do not anger me further by dawdling.”

  “No sir. None of the traitors claim to know anything.”

  “Then release them.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  “Did I stutter, soldier? They are still citizens of the Crown and you would do well to remember that. Release them until you have proof of treachery – then deal with it swiftly and with God’s mercy.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And the woman?”

  “A Frenchie that would not keep her vile mouth shut.”

  “I see.”

  “Release her too?”

  There was something in the soldier’s tone that made Alden look at him. It was a test. Something in the way Alden spoke or moved was giving away is identity. He could not slip up and several other soldiers were now looking his way curiously.

  “The French are a plague,” Alden said tightly, staring at the soldier fiercely to try to keep from looking at the woman in the distance watching the scene. “Leave her be. The maggots can have her once we are finished.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The soldiers went back to their duties and he fought back the urge to sigh in relief. Obviously that was exactly what they were expecting of him. A cold intolerance.

  “Soldier,” Alden said quickly, taking his role to the next level. “I assume you’ve my tent waiting for me - I will require a tankard, my dinner, and maps of the area immediately.”

  “Yes sir.”

  There was no time to waste.

  Alden needed to find out their plans and get out of camp as quickly as possible. He wasn’t certain who was in charge but once they found out that another commanding officer was in the vicinity, he was sure to be caught – and if he was caught, he would most certainly hang.

  Madeline lay there shivering as the temperatures began to drop. Cooler weather was on the way in and her silk dress, as filthy as it was, did little to keep her warm. Her hands were numb from being bound and her toes matched simply due to the thin material of her slippers. She’d fallen over at some point in the night and lay there most of the day because of how tightly her hands were bound. When she’d asked for help sitting up, they’d gagged her.

  That had been hours ago.

  Now, there was a new officer arriving that looked to be even more terrifying than any of the others she’d seen so far. He was a large man with broad shoulders, and the cut of his jacket fit him snugly. She hated that she even noticed how trim a figure he cut in his uniform, much less how his eyes and hair were dark as night. He would have been exceedingly handsome – if he wasn’t wretchedly so very British.

  Several people filed past her, a few tossing sympathetic looks in her direction as she lay there. These were her people and they were forbidden from helping her simply due to her heritage and the soldier’s opinion of the French. She hoped that someday they would get their comeuppance and she’d love to witness it. Sighing heavily, she rested her head back down into the cool grass and mud that lay beneath her. She needed to focus on staying warm and prayed for a miracle.

  Alden had discovered that this encampment was bei
ng led by General Howe and he was being quartered in Beekman House in town. The general was well known for being lethal and unforgiving, making Alden’s collar feel extremely tight at this very moment. He tugged at it in the privacy of the tent and knew deep in his gut he would need to get out of here tonight under the cover of darkness. He would not chance remaining another evening.

  Shoveling the thick stew into his mouth he almost groaned at the rich sauces and abundance of flavors. The general apparently ate quite well as he traveled too. He’d seen the men with spits of mutton over a fire and assumed he would have the same thing – not a hearty stew full of vegetables and delicate rolls that would make a saint weep. Shoving another buttery roll in his mouth, he hesitated and stopped chewing.

  That girl.

  He couldn’t leave her out there with the soldiers. The sun had set an hour ago and if they hadn’t taken turns with her yet - it wouldn’t be long before she was harmed or killed simply for being there. He personally didn’t have any issues with the French – they had helped him several times in the past and his father had traded with them when he was growing up.

  Swallowing hard, the lump of dough went down his throat painfully and he wondered how long it had been since she’d had anything to eat or drink. He was willing to bet that it had been quite a while since she’d even moved and he felt guilty at ordering the men to leave her there. He was certain they’d taken his words to heart and quite literally… left… her… there.

  Instead of eating the last two rolls, Alden pocketed them and snuffed out the candle beside his bed. Let them think he went to sleep. He would wait in the darkness, listening for the sounds of the encampment growing quiet as the men went to sleep. He gathered up a horn of powder, slipped a knife into his boot, and draped a blanket over his arm for her. Staring straight ahead in the darkness, his mind worked as he mentally tried to plot their escape route out of town.

  Madeline stifled back a moan as her body ached from the cold. The bottom half of her gown had soaked up any moisture possible from the mud and now was chilled against her skin. Her joints hurt painfully from lack of blood and the cool temperatures. She was mortified at the tears of pain that leaked from her eyes.

  She wasn’t crying because she was sad – no, it was due to the bitter, bone chilling ache, and raging anger she felt at being treated so horrifically. The horses and hounds nearby were treated better than her!

  She almost let out a wail as the last remaining solder kicked dirt over the nearby fire to put it out. Why couldn’t he have left it burning? Now she was laying here alone, in the dark, and slowly freezing to death. The only plus to any of this nightmare was that it wasn’t later in the year! She would have died from exposure already – if she didn’t pass on during the night.

  She prayed her family was safe and warm somewhere, away from any of this. Perhaps they’d received a similar treatment and got away from the encampment. Maybe they are heading to Montreal? Just anywhere safe would give her a sense of peace in her soul before she met her maker.

  Hearing a noise, she froze in the darkness and nearly laughed under the gag. It wasn’t like she was going anywhere, Madeline thought wretchedly. Even if someone untied her now, she was certain that she might lose her fingers or toes due to how long she’d been restrained. Yes, she was well on her way to making her peace.

  “Miss, don’t move,” she heard whispered in the dark behind her. Her hands were suddenly freed and she almost cried out at the sudden rush of agony in moving her limbs caused. The blood was flowing back into her digits almost as fast as the tears were streaming down her cheeks.

  Oh, the bitter pain!

  “Shhh, I’ve got you. We are leaving. Don’t say a word.”

  Madeline couldn’t have. The gag was still in place and her hands weren’t responding just yet. Truthfully, if this was an escape, she was glad he’d left her gagged so she didn’t alert the troops by mistake. He draped a blanket over her body just before scooping her up. Strong warm arms slipped underneath her and hauled her body up against his. Closing her eyes, she said a silent prayer of thanks for this momentary reprieve of the torture she’d been subjected to. The moonlight peered through the cracks in her eyelids and she stole a glance at her hero for a moment.

  It was him!

  Flailing instantly – she tried to get away. She was stunned to see him tighten his grip without complaint. He bent down and whispered in her ear.

  “Shhh I’m here to help you.”

  Stopping, she glanced up at him warily and saw him nod in the moonlight as they slipped back into the trees away from the open glen where they’d been on the edge of town. His accent was gone as well as the coldness in his eyes. Who exactly was this man? He carried her silently through the darkness as if she was weightless. The faint rustle of material made her curse her choice in clothing once again. The watered silk hadn’t been warm in the slightest and now sounded like people whispering – either that or she was paranoid.

  “Do you think you can ride?”

  He was silent for a moment before he remembered the gag in her mouth. Setting her down, he quickly braced her once her legs gave out underneath her.

  “I’ve got you.”

  She realized that he might actually consider leaving her there if she was a detriment to his escape plans. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate in cruelty? To be rescued only to be captured once again.

  “I’m willing to try,” she whispered in a panic, her voice rising shrilly out of control before she could even realize it. His had immediately covered her mouth.

  “Shhh,” he said immediately, “I won’t leave you behind. We’ll ride together.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet – we aren’t free from danger.”

  Madeline was surprised that he put her on the horse first and figured it was because her hands and feet were still regaining feeling. What made her do a doubletake was when he mounted the horse behind her, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders like a shawl, and handed her a buttered roll.

  “Are you a magician?” she asked in a hushed voice and was surprised to hear him chuckle softly.

  “Hardly that. Eat up, little one.”

  “I’m not little.”

  “Compared to me, you are.”

  Madeline didn’t say another word as he nudged the horse forward through the trees. She was warmer than she had been all day and the taste of the yeast roll made her want to start tearing up again.

  This wasn’t like her.

  She was mentally strong and could handle almost anything. Her whole world had been shattered before her, going up in flames, and she felt lost. Hopefully something would give her the grounding and confidence she needed to feel secure again. Sighing heavily, she gasped as another yeast roll suddenly appeared in front of her. Grateful, she accepted the roll and bit into it.

  “Thank you again,” she murmured.

  “How are your hands?”

  “I’m able to clench my fingers again now - and hold things.”

  “Once we stop, I’ll take a look at them.”

  “I think I am okay.

  “Are you warm enough?”

  “The blanket helps,” she admitted, “Thank you again.”

  “Quit thanking me,” he muttered against her hair, “I’m just sorry I couldn’t have done more sooner.”

  What a twist her evening had taken – and what a caring, odd man this stranger was turning out to be. Riding on, she saw the shadows in the moonlight and realized they were traveling up the North River. Swallowing the last of the roll, she was touched by his next words.

  “Lean back, little one, and sleep. We’ve got quite a distance to cover and no one will harm you this evening.”

  Chapter Four

  September 22, 1776

  Madeline awoke to a gentle swaying motion and remembered the events from the night before. Startled, she sat up quickly and glanced over her shoulder to see the exhausted expression on the face of the man who’d been ridin
g all evening.

  “Who are you?”

  At his silence, she turned back around and surveyed her surroundings. They were riding through the outskirts of another town. She was surprised to see him tether the horse in front of a building that looked to be empty. He slipped down off the horse and stepped inside without knocking. His head darted back out and he pulled her down off the horse, carrying her inside.

  “I can walk,” she protested faintly, wondering if she could or not. She was still stiff and sore. Her ankles throbbed where they’d been tied and dangled all night off the horse.

  “People were watching and we do not want to arouse suspicion.”

  “I look quite bedraggled.”

  “A bit,” he admitted, smiling, as he set her down. Madeline winced at the dull ache that shot up her leg before sitting down. He stood there watching her with his head cocked to the side. “What’s your name?”

  “What’s yours?” she countered evasively.

  “Alden Knox.”

  “Oh,” she uttered dumbfounded, looking away. She didn’t expect him to actually answer her and the speed of his reply gave a bit of credulity to it. “Who are you?”

  “I told you – my name is Alden,” he said, smiling as he knelt down in front of where she sat. He reached immediately under her filthy skirt and grasped an ankle.

  “Fais pas ca!” she bit out, swatting at the top of his head in outrage from the freedom he took with her person. “Do not handle me so!” He fell back onto his bottom on the wooden floor and stared up at her in shock.

  “I was just checking your ankle.”

  “You might have asked my permission.”

  “Should I have hung around to ask if I should rescue you?”

  “That is not the same. You are being… how do you say it? Un gros tete du chochon!” she snapped, straightening her skirts like she was royalty. Preening, she stuck her nose in the air regally and looked away, only to hear him laughing again at her expense.