The Raider by Jude Deveraux Read Free Book Online

couldn’t run her little boat while wearing long skirts so she had adapted a sailor’s garment for her own use. She wore tall boots beneath baggy pants that reached her knees, topped by a loose blouse and an unbuttoned waistcoat. Except that her waist was very small and she had to belt the pants tightly to hold them up, she was dressed like most of the men in Warbrooke. “Tell me,” Alex said smoothly, “do you still want the name of my tailor?”
    The men began to laugh with more gusto than the joke warranted. So many of them had watched Jessica saunter down the dock, her hips moving in a way that made them gape. Even in her men’s clothing, she obviously had all the curves every woman wished she had.
    Eleanor stepped in before another jibe could be made. “Thank you for the oysters. Maybe you could bring us some cod this afternoon.”
    Jessica nodded mutely, still angry at the way Alexander had made the men laugh at her. She glared at Alex for a moment, not even bothering to look at the men around her who were laughing and so thoroughly enjoying her humiliation, then turned on her heel and left the house.
    Eleanor grabbed Alexander’s plate, still half-full of the food he couldn’t eat, and gave him a hard look, but she didn’t say a word. After all, he was her employer’s son. Instead, she turned to Nicholas, who was lounging against the door jamb. “Take this out to the hogs. And do it now!”
    Nick opened his mouth to say something and then closed it, his eyes sparkling. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t contradict women.”
    At that, more laughter erupted, and for a moment Alex felt a part of the town again, not like the stranger he’d been forced to become.
    But their laughter stopped a moment later when Alex stood—or, rather, attempted to stand. He wasn’t used to the protrusion that was his padded belly and it caught on the lip of the table. At the same time, he twisted his shoulder, pulling on the partially healed gunshot wound. Between the pain and his confusion over what was holding him in his seat, it took a moment to get untangled.
    To him, it was almost humorous—but to the townspeople it was pathetic.
    Alex looked up to see pity in their eyes. Turning away to hide his anger, he left the room. It was time to meet John Pitman.
    He was just where Alex thought he’d be, in the office that had served the Montgomerys for three generations. He was a short, stocky man, balding back to midway on his head. Alex couldn’t see his face because he was bent intently over ledgers spread across the desk. Before Pitman looked up, Alex scanned the room and saw that two portraits of Montgomery ancestors had been taken from the walls and there was a heavy lock on a cabinet that had belonged to Alex’s mother. It looked as if the man meant to stay.
    â€œAh hem,” Alex said, clearing his throat.
    Pitman looked up.
    Alex’s first impression was of eyes that pierced a man: big, intense, glittering like black diamonds. This man could do anything, Alex thought, maybe good, maybe bad.
    John Pitman looked Alex up and down, his hard eyes measuring him, seeming to remember what he’d heard of Alexander Montgomery and comparing it with what he now saw.
    Alex thought that if he wanted to fool this man, he was going to have to work at it. He withdrew a lace-edged white silk handkerchief. “So warm today, isn’t it? I feel fairly faint with the heat.” He minced his way, letting his hips lead him, toward the window and lounged against the jamb, the handkerchief delicately dabbing at the sweat on his neck.
    Pitman leaned back in his chair and silently appraised Alex.
    Alex gazed out the window, letting his eyelids droop lazily as he watched Nicholas throw feed toward the chickens and doing it in such a way that the breeze caught half the seed and carried it away. Eleanor came running toward him, her apron