The Raider by Jude Deveraux Page B

where she’d lain with the Raider. Without thinking about what she was doing, she plucked a little yellow flower from the edge of the moss and tucked it into the torn bodice of her dress.
    â€œHave to fix that,” she murmured as she ran her hand along the edge of her dress.
    â€œI hate him, I really do,” she repeated, as if she hadn’t really believed herself the first time, then started home.
    *   *   *
    â€œPunishing the horse again?” Nicholas asked as he walked up behind Alexander. “That could only be caused by your lady Jessica.”
    Alex kept brushing the horse with vigor, making the stallion’s black coat shine. Absently, he swatted at mosquitoes as they sought his sweaty, bare skin. “The last I heard, you weren’t faring too well yourself. Did you wash the kitchen floor?”
    Nick grunted in response as he eased his big body onto the driest spot of ground he could find on the marshy island. “That woman will find herself being used as a mop.”
    â€œI know what you mean. Jessica is going to be the death of me. One minute she’s as cold as winter; she has frost on her lashes. The next minute I’m getting sunburned.”
    â€œEleanor wanted me to clean the fireplace. I told her I put things in the fireplace but I take nothing out.”
    â€œOf course Jess did risk her life to help the Raider. He would have been caught if it hadn’t been for her. And then for the Raider to treat her with so little respect! It wasn’t right.”
    Nick rubbed his hand on his jaw. “I’ve always been told that I have the bearing of royalty. Many women have told me that they would know that I was the czar’s cousin even if I were wearing nothing. Or perhaps especially then. So why does this Eleanor Taggert not know that I’m Russian royalty? How can she dare treat me as…as a scullery maid?”
    Alex began to comb the coarse mane of his horse. “She’s really very courageous. Did you know that everyone in town was laughing at her for getting herself thrown in the hold? George Greene was a hero, the Raider was a hero, but Jessica Taggert was a foolish girl.”
    â€œEleanor must be blind. She has the bluest, clearest eyes ever made by God but they are useless.”
    â€œThey laugh at her for her clothes, and for that old boat of hers, and for all those kids, but she’s doing the best she can. Little Molly told me Jess has the trousers she wears and that single ugly old green dress.” He stopped brushing. “And the Raider tore that.”
    â€œEleanor said—” Nick broke off. “I thought you were the Raider. Did you tear her dress?”
    Alex frowned. “Yes, I guess I did. I didn’t mean to, it was all Abigail’s fault. ‘Do with me what you will’,” he mocked. “And then there was Jessica, lying on the ground. She was asleep, but at first I thought she’d been hurt and the Raider—I mean me—I grabbed her and she hit me and…”
    â€œHer dress was torn. I understand. Did you tear it completely off?”
    â€œOf course not! Even the Raider, blowhard that he is, wouldn’t hurt a virtuous woman.”
    â€œYou should have used your sword. The women like that. I once sliced a gypsy’s dress off, layer by layer, while she danced. And later—”
    Alex threw down his brush and started toward Nick. “She’s not like that! She’s brave and generous and intelligent and—”
    â€œBut the Raider took advantage of her. Perhaps you should challenge him to a duel.” Nick’s eyes were laughing, his mouth twitching.
    Alex stood over Nick, his muscles straining with anger, and he began to see the absurdity of what he was saying. He turned back to his horse. “I may be the Raider but I am Alexander also.”
    â€œAh, the dilemma, whether a woman loves the man himself or what she thinks he is. Or