“No,” Lucas fenced. “I’m a Catholic, and she worships the devil.”
Bowman laughed and clapped Lucas on the back. He bent to Lucas’ ear, low and secret as they turned down Maryland Avenue. “I must admit, I’m love-struck, too.” Bowman clutched his heart. “She is the most beautiful woman I’ve laid eyes on, and none equal to her. I’ve met her at the last two balls and fought the groundswell to have a dance with her. She has a way about her. A wit and conversationalist like I’ve never before witnessed. Newly arrived this week and already the toast of Washington.” He sighed heavily.
“Don’t swoon on me.” Lucas’ voice was curt and unforgiving, out of turn with the jovial mood of his two companions. “No woman alive is that sensational.”
“Except she’s very mysterious. I wanted to call upon her, but no one knows where she lives. What’s most remarkable are her eyes. Like amber that shimmers in the sun.”
Amber eyes? Newly arrived?Lucas stopped. “Rachel.”
Bowman was thunderstruck. “You know her?”
Lucas scowled. Here he was scouring Washington for her, and she was waltzing at balls?
Bowman turned west, an inky labyrinth of chaos in a seedy stretch of town. The sky quickly drained of all color, streetlights pricked the dark canvas of the firmament, and, above, the first stars appeared a line of smoky obsidian that clung to the horizon. The neighborhood was rife with the stench of the nearby canal, doubling as a sewer. His first impulse had been to avoid that area, but his present temper did not object, so he thwarted his initial inclination. Most of the soldiers called it “going down the line” where more than five hundred brothels offered horizontal entertainment to refresh the troops.
She had to be staying somewhere. Hundreds of possibilities flooded his mind. He had received a hand-delivered note via Jimmy three days ago, warning him of the intended assassination plots which he sent up the chain of command and sent out spies on the street to keep an eye on any suspicious activity. They also detailed his own danger. The little fool. Didn’t she realize the danger she was placing herself in with Copperheads knowing he had escaped from Richmond with her? These were dangerous men she toyed with, not the standard issue infantryman she could easily deceive. Lucas’ worst fears haunted him. What if he failed to get to her in time?
A muscle ticked in his jaw. Someone needed to tame that wild streak in her. If he caught her, and he knew he would, he’d teach her the lesson of a lifetime, keeping her naked and locked up for the next decade.
Damn.He wanted her again. Scoundrel that he was, he desired her splayed across things, bent over other things, on her back, over him, under him, beside him, claiming every inch of her.
“Any more balls this week?” Lucas grimaced in disgust. No doubt like a hound after a hare, she’d be attending and gathering information.
“The Adams are hosting the ball of the season. Oh no, you don’t,” protested Bowman. “I saw her first. She’s mine.”
Lucas gritted his teeth.
“I’ve been thinking about General Dodge’s speculations. I believe the Saint is a woman, don’t you?” Bowman said.
Lucas mouth went dry. “I doubt it.” Lucas wanted to throw everyone off track. There would be bloodlust aplenty if anyone found out the Saint’s real identity.
Had General Dodge had this conversation with Bowman? Maybe he hadn’t. Lucas shoved his hands in his pockets, fisted them, then relaxed.
“And this business about the Rebel Captain Johnson is a witch hunt. He’s long gone. Probably down the Mississippi and out of New Orleans,” said Bowman.
A slight chill went up his spine. He didn’t comment. No one, not even Dodge, had shared that bit of sensitive information about Johnson in Washington. If Lucas had figured out who the Saint was, then it would be a matter of time before the Copperheads figured it out. Lucas appearing at the Elm Street address and finding Rachel had been a lucky guess. But Rachel’s presence there would set alarm bells ringing for the Copperheads.
The click of a revolver pressed to the back of his head jerked him to immediate awareness. Behind them several thugs swarmed.
“Let’s take a little detour down the alley, Colonel with your friends.”
Shoved forward, Lucas stumbled. With certainty, a well-chosen spot for an ambush. No witnesses, dark, and an easy escape for the villains once they completed their dirty work.
Lucas itched for a fight.
The first thug came at him, eyes wild, launching a right. Lucas ducked, the buzz swept over his head. The thug’s momentum carried him in a curve, his kidney exposed for the taking. Easy enough, a question of force. Lucas hit a short right, a colossal blow, a blow that would have cracked a hitching post. The man pitched backward. Another adversary came at him, Lucas swung, landing a sharp blow into his face, breaking his jaw.
Bowman and Andrews froze next to the wall, their eyes large as deer caught in lantern light. No help there.
Men fell on him. He bellowed out an awful challenge. With lightning quick ease, he swung around, elbowed his assailant in the windpipe, broke another’s nose and was doused in a shower of blood. The numbers were too many. He received too many punches and several men subdued him. Both Andrews and Bowman were restrained. Not a good spot to be in right now.
“I like you, Colonel Rourke.” A man spoke with a Virginia drawl. “You’re my kind of man. But don’t confuse kindness with weakness.” He smashed his fist into Lucas’ gut, and he doubled over. His guards pulled him back up.
This man knew his name.
“I want you to tell me everything you know.”
Was he referring to anything Lucas might have discovered concerning the assassination or Copperhead plots by his association with Rachel? “I know nothing.” Lucas lied easily.
