FREE! In The Arms of My Enemy (Completed!) Book 1

Fiery Fidelia

Baltimore, June 22nd, 1812

Shattered glass crashed down onto Fidelia's head, catching in her red curls and cutting her cheek as she crouched beneath the win­dow.

"You ruffians!" She rose up on her knees to shout through the bro­ken panes at the boys who had thrown the rocks. "Get back here, and I—"

A shot echoed through the streets. A man's scream followed, and the boys quickly retreated into the nearest building.

Fidelia reached into her dress pocket and gripped her father's old pistol. "Lottie, is the rifle loaded?" she whispered. The streets, gray with the evening fog that rolled off the ocean, were eerily quiet.

Lottie nodded, and her blond hair gleamed in a flash of moonlight that cut through the mist.

Fidelia drew a slow breath. "Where are they?"

"Maybe they won't come," Lottie said.

"Don't be foolish. He said he would come for you today, and this time he's sure he won't leave empty-handed." Fidelia leaned forward to look across the street. A shadow moved.

"We should have run when we had the chance." Lottie's voice broke, and her grip tightened on her little notebook of inventions.

Fidelia felt her heart constrict. 

Fidelia's newly broken window was evidence of the danger, and that was nothing compared to what was coming their way. Her foolish pride had kept her and Lottie at their family's tavern. She should have taken her sister far away from here when Charles asked her. 

Now, it was too late.

Fidelia would defend her sister, no matter the cost.

"There," Fidelia said. A shadow flickered through the fog again, flashing against a Frenchman's uniform.

Without hesitating, Fidelia aimed through the broken window­pane and fired. A voice cried out and the shape fell back into the fog.

"Reload," she ordered, shoving the pistol at her sister.

Lottie dropped her notebook of inventions and took the gun.

"I could cre­ate a system to streamline the loading process—" Lottie began.

"Now's not the time for your inventions, Lottie." Fidelia took the now-loaded pistol from her sister and aimed at another shape moving through the fog.

Men's angry voices echoed in the distance. Someone across the street lit a torch, casting a garish circle of light into the fog. Were they stupid enough to give her a lit target?

Her gut tightened instinctively, but she ignored it. She couldn't let her fear take over. She fired again.

"Reload." Fidelia handed the gun back to Lottie.

"We're running low," Lottie responded through the haze of gun­powder smoke.

The torch across the street didn't move. Fidelia gritted her teeth; she hadn't missed in years.

"Something isn't right . . ."

The door at in the kitchen burst open and slammed against the wall. Lottie screamed, dropped the pistol, and grabbed Puppy. Fidelia spun, taking up the freshly loaded gun that Lottie had dropped.

A man charged at Fidelia. They collided and he drove her against the wall, wrestling for the gun in her hand. He pointed it into the air just as Fidelia fired.

"No!" she screamed in frustration as she wasted her bullet. The man laughed and threw her to the floor beside Lottie.

Le Coquin stomped into the room, followed by two more of his men. He gave Fidelia a greasy smile and bowed languidly. "Mademoiselle, you appear in good health, I see."