CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
DARKNESS DESCENDED QUICKLY and with the sun hidden behind the gray blanket of clouds, so did the chill. The soldiers guarding the tent where Drago, Raphael, and Chen hunkered chained together stopped chatting, meaning that they either ran out of things to say, one of them was called away or took a short walk to the nearby latrine. The general hum of activity increased.
Being confined here meant they couldn’t sit near a fire; so they huddled close for warmth. They spent the day helping the British finish a recently dug canal, leaving them wet, cold and muddy. The troops would bring their shallow longboats from the bayou to the Mississippi to ferry foot soldiers across. Easy enough without the Carolina and the Dragon antagonizing the camp from the river anymore.
Drago groaned. His abused ribs and stomach provided a constant ache, promising another sleepless night ahead.
Smythe had permitted him to stop at the latrine before bringing him to the detention area. Once inside, he ripped open the missive Eva lifted from the sergeant’s bag to find it addressed to General Mullins. His orders were to take his regiments to the front lines with fascines to provide a path over the mud and ladders to prepare the way for Gibbs’ men to scale the ramparts. He allowed himself a triumphant smile. His sugar cane wasn’t going anywhere.
He dropped the missive into the latrine and urinated on it. With the ladders and fascines left behind, the redcoats would have a difficult time scaling the anything.
“Captain Gamponetti?” A reedy whisper interrupted his musings.
His heart stopped. No.
What was she doing here?
“Eva?” He breathed her name in shock and dismay. No, no, no. She needed to go back. If they caught her, they’d kill her. Probably just execute her without asking a single question. At the very least, sneaking around the camp alone put her at horrible risk if she ran into anyone with less than honorable intentions.
The back of the tent rippled as she crawled inside. Chains clinked softly as the men straightened. He whispered as loudly as he dared. “Little fool! Get out of here.” He wanted to crush her to his chest her and at the same time shove her out.
“Shh...I came to free you.” She moved on her hands and knees until she reached him. He got a brief whiff of wood smoke, ash, and crushed herbs. He strained to make out her shape.
Was she wearing white trousers and the red coat of a British cadet? What the hell did she do with her robe and tunic? Dammit, they were the only things protecting her!
With a hushed cry of relief, she threw her arms around his neck, and for a moment he allowed himself the luxury of breathing her in. She cradled his face in her palms and pressed her sweet warm lips against his chilled ones. “We must move quickly, once I relieve you of these wretched chains.”
Filled with warring emotions of joy and dread, he could only panic silently as she moved. She trailed her hands down his arms. Finding no bindings around his wrists, she groped for his feet.
Seconds later the lock gave a soft click, and he grinned in the dark. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he watched in awe as she efficiently freed the others.
His very brave, very talented Eva.
How he loved her and wanted to shake and chastise and shout and scream at her for putting herself in danger.
One by one, the four of them crawled out into the darkness. Eva picked up a rifle she’d left on the ground near the tent, and they casually strolled the short distance to the edge of the cypress swamp.
The most important task was to warn both sides of the river about the planned British attack. They’d have to split up, and he wasn’t letting Eva out of his sight, so the calculations were easy.
He wasted no time issuing orders for the others to head northeast to Line Jackson and help man the cannons beside Lafitte’s crew. “Make haste, boys. There are no better gunners than you. He’s is going to need every able-bodied man he can get. You proved your mettle a thousand times over behind the Dragon’s guns. Take your skills and cast chaos and destruction on those bloody redcoats.”
They straightened. “Aye, Capt’n. That we will.” Raphael flicked his thumb over his shoulder. “We’ll see if we can’t slow those longboats to the river, as well.”
Drago grinned, his men were savvy. “An excellent plan. There has to be a weakness along the canal you can exploit. A small collapse would be catastrophic.”
“We’ll see it done, sir.”
“For Manuel,” Chen murmured.
Raphael clapped a hand on Drago’s shoulder. “Aye, for Manuel.”
Eva squeezed his fingers. He gripped hers back then released them, fearing he’d crushed her knuckles. He swallowed the painful knot in his throat and stepped forward to shake each man’s hand. He couldn’t allow his grief-ridden thoughts to invade his mind now. It was important to stay keen-witted. Focused. He’d mourn his cousin later. And he’d mourn him well.
The two men whispered their thanks to Eva, then disappeared into the night toward the Chalmette plantation. He warred with the decision to send her with them, along with orders to escort her to the convent. The truth was that he wanted her with him. He needed her with him. It was the only way he could protect her.
When they were finally alone, Drago gripped her shoulders and pulled her close. Fear and fury welled up in his chest and he gave her an angry scowl. “What you just did was dangerous. Do you realize you could have been killed?”
Eva calmly lifted her chin, her face a serene mask of courage. “You should have a little more faith in my abilities.”
How many more did she possess? “The other disguise was safer,” he growled.
She casually shrugged a shoulder. “Edward needed it in order for Beatrice and the Sauvages to smuggle him from here to the city.” She looked down at her breeches. “I rubbed ashes into the coat and britches to blend into the dark a bit better. They fit fairly well, except for the boots. I put rags in the toes.”
Drago hissed in a sharp breath. “Devil take me if I don’t want to shake some sense into you!” She talked as if she did this every day. “You lived in a convent for the past nine years, you know nothing of war and the dark intentions of men.”
Eva hefted her rifle and locked her gaze with his. He could barely catch the glitter of her stare. “I understand more about the dark intentions of men than most women of twenty and two. These are desperate hours, Drago. Desperate hours call for desperate decisions and desperate actions. I did what I had to do, and so did you.”
He ground his teeth. She was right of course, but that didn’t make it easier on his piece of mind. “I’d rather you were safely back in the convent.”
“Well, I’m here.” She straightened. “And I’m staying with you.”
Stubborn as she was brave. “Then stay near me, because God help us, Eva this is no place for a woman.”
A tiny smile tugged at her mouth. “Is that a prayer, Capitaine Gamponetti?”
Prayers were for those who lacked the courage to cut their own path. Still, he managed a stiff nod. “It’s as close to one as I’ll utter.”
She tilted her head. “God will help us.” She pressed her palm to his cheek, melting him. “We’ll look after each other,” she whispered, then taking a deep breath, continued. “I am no stranger to the dark, Drago. Among other things, when I was a child, Hugo taught me how to become invisible in the night.”
Damn that bastard for the way he treated her. He hoped those skills at least would keep her alive through this nightmare, because it was about to become more dangerous. He pulled her into his arms and held her, sinking into the soft warmth of her body, drawing strength from her calm and confident heart, and hoping her faith in his protection wasn’t unfounded. “We need to warn General Morgan about the dawn attack on the west bank. We can’t let the British take that battery.”
He felt Eva nod against his chest. “The information you gave them will slow their efforts.” His heart nearly exploded at the pride in her voice. He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s hope it gives us enough time.”
There’d be no sleep for the British army tonight. The camp squirmed with activity. Twenty men still toiled dredging the canal from the swamp to the Mississippi. Regiments gathered, inspecting weapons and securing supplies.
Thankfully, no one bothered to question why a cadet was escorting a civilian through the encampment. They had their own tasks and worries. A nervous unease rippled through Villeré plantation. Word had spread that Jackson commanded nearly twenty-five thousand men. Drago’s exaggeration blossomed into a healthy rumor, which happily grew, as rumors tend to do.
It was a miracle no one found the raft Eva, Beatrice, and the twins hid among the bulrushes. When he mentioned that thought to her, she just wrinkled her nose and gave him a small smile.
They set off across the devilish river. A treacherous risk at night, partially submerged stumps, and rotten logs clawed the bottom of the raft and bindings. A plunge into the icy water was deadly this time of year. Even if they swam to shore, the cold temperatures would seep into their bones and they’d catch their death.
Drago’s heart jolted against his ribs. It was one thing to look out for himself, yet another to protect the woman he loved. The rest of his life would become as dark as this night without her.
A few muted twinkles hinted stars above them. Night cloaked the land in a blanket of gloom. Drago barely breathed as she felt her way with a long pole. He knelt behind her, using a paddle as a rudder and stroking along the downriver side to keep them progressing laterally across. No sounds but the current lapping against the raft. Even the night creatures seemed to sense the danger, wisely choosing silence.
The hulking form of the Dragon slowly revealed herself through the mist.
“Oh no,” Eva breathed, stilling.
“Bastards,” Drago muttered under his breath before biting his tongue. Why was his language always at its worst when she was near?
At least she was near.
He grasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. It was when they were apart that worry shredded his heart.
None of that changed the gut-wrenching fact that the schooner had been brutally violated. His prized vessel listed starboard due to the gaping hole in her flank. Blown apart from the inside out; her gun had been directed away from its port and pointed instead through her tender ribs. It would be a long time before they saw Lamb’s Tail Island again.
Heart heavy, he climbed aboard the tilted vessel as noiselessly as he could; Eva waited below for his signal to follow. Aside from the occasional painful groan of her fibers, the Dragon was quiet and dark in death.
He didn’t bother to check his cabin. It would have been the first place the marauders pillaged.
“Drago?” Eva’s whisper cut through the silence.
He leaned over the rail. “It’s abandoned. Can you manage the way up?”
She grinned and grabbed the thick hemp rope, soon scampering to his side. He slipped his hand into hers and led her toward the hatch. Together they made their way to the galley.
Drago rummaged around until he found the tinderbox and a rusty lantern. Within a few minutes, they had enough light to finally illuminate their surroundings. The stores had been picked through and cleaned out, save for what Cookie had hidden in the stove. Strange how no one seemed to think to check there. They shoved what they could into Eva’s rucksack. Rice pebbled the floor. Thankfully, they managed to also find a few pieces of dried meat at the bottom of a tipped barrel, which eased their hunger and provided a needed boost of energy.
“I’m sorry about your ship,” Eva said. Her eyes shone with sympathy. “I know the Dragon was precious to you.” She touched his cheek. “You have lost so much.”
He shook his head. Such tangibles no longer mattered. “You are precious to me il mio amore.” He enveloped her in his arms and held her. “I am thankful it was the ship and not you.” He thought of his cousin and drew a ragged breath. “I sought to protect the people I love by removing them from danger. But Manuel understood that eliminating the danger was the only way to keep everyone safe. He fought to save your way of life. Your freedom. Manuel, in his slow, befuddled mind, understood this long before I did. He died fighting for a cause that lived in his heart.”
We fight for freedom, Drago...for Jacqueline, and Julian...for Sister Eva...for our friends. We promised. We fight for them...
But suddenly he needed more. “You may not yet be ready to forgive me. Hell, I’m not sure I even deserve it. I lied to you. And worse, I deceived and betrayed you.” A tense band tightened around his chest, and he could barely breathe. What reason had he given her to ever trust him again? He spent so many years taking what he wanted and needed that he forgot how to earn it. Forgot the importance of earning it.
Then he felt it.
It was feather-light at first; her fingers fluttered over his side ribs, then froze. He bent his head and kissed her temple, unable to resist touching her skin with his lips. The sensation of her hands sliding over his side and around his waist almost had him shouting for joy. When she hugged him back, he grinned like a damned fool.
“Eva...” He could only manage her name. So many things needed to be said. Guilt, truth, humility all pressed on his shoulders with a weight that threatened to drive him to his knees.
He choked the thick, hard words from his throat. “I’ve been an arrogant jackass. So many years spent looking out for myself had blinded me to courage. My pride blinded me to truth.”
How could saying, ‘I’m sorry’ mean anything coming from him? Telling her that he loved her was like dropping teardrops into the sea.
Meaningless.
He was cold and hard. She was warm and vibrant. He sauntered in darkness and subterfuge. She hid in the light.
What made him think he could win her? She had no reason to desire a life with someone like him. He had no right to ask. “I’m so sorry, Eva.”
Her chest expanded with each breath and he reveled in the pressure of her breasts against him. He could almost feel the vibration of her heartbeat. He had to say something more. At least apologize again. Attempt to win her forgiveness, try to--
Her whisper was threaded with emotion. “Drago. The past is in the past. I have already forgiven you.”
The world stopped.
Just like that, the darkness slipped away. His heart was the size of a twenty-four pounder. He hadn’t realized his eyes were closed until he opened them to look at her. To confirm the words just spoken.
Her gaze was bright and hopeful and honest. And she looked at him with love and devotion and yes...even forgiveness.
“I love you, Eva. I know...” He allowed the last remnants of his pride to splinter and drop at his feet. “I know that I don’t deserve you, but I’ll spend the rest of my life endeavoring to earn your respect if you’ll give me the chance.”
She stilled, and he held his breath, daring to hope.
The warmth of Eva’s hand scorched his cheek, which was now covered with short stubble. He was in no way presentable to the lady, yet another dark mark against his character, but devil take him, he was desperate.
Drago cradled her face in his hands.
“I love you, Eva. A few weeks ago, you accepted my proposal. When this is all over, will you still have me?”