In The Arms of The Enemy

By Luis Ammerman

When Corey Dyer, a young English gentleman during the American Revolutionary War, is framed for a murder he didn't commit, he goes on the run and joins the military to escape the gallows. But after receiving a musket shot to the shoulder and being saved accidentally by opponent soldiers, he is taken behind enemy lines. There, wounded and sick, he wakes to see the most angelic creature he's ever laid eyes on—a schoolteacher Miranda Hawkins.

​

Trapped in the enemy's arms, Corey and Miranda vow to protect his identity to save his life. But in such close quarters, they struggle to keep their passionate feelings at bay. When they think they are safe, an enemy from his past returns, and now Corey and Miranda must ensure his secret is kept at all costs . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: T&L Publishing
• Release date: Dec 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223716242

Luis Ammerman

Luis Ammerman has always loved reading, writing, and history. For many years he has written short stories, fiction, and has worked on his true love and passion—romance novels. In every era there is the chance for romance, and Luis enjoys exploring many different time periods, cultures, and geographic locations. No matter when or where, love can always prevail. He has a particular soft spot for history and love in his stories. Luis was born and raised in Florida but now lives and writes in the Mountains of Tennessee. He is the author of In The Arms of The Enemy, Against All Odds, The Secret Behind Sycamore Hills and Amarillo Sky.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

OUTSKIRTS OF LONDON—1780

Bawdy laughter and thick cigar smoke filled the tavern. Drunken men in red coats, white breeches, and white powdered wigs were engaged in a noisy banter that made them the focus of attention in the large room.

God’s teeth, those men are louder than a pirate after their first plunder, Benjamin muttered with irritation.

Corey chuckled, taking a huge gulp of wine from his cup. Leave them be, Benny. I reckon they’ve seen more than us and need to be grateful that they’re still alive.

Ture here, Tristan inserted, his words slurring as a result of his inebriated state. Sink me, I wish I had joined the recruits when the war started. But my father would hear nothing of it. The Earl’s son is too good to be fighting war, he said and paid for my commission. Crust it; I should have been a general like Cornwallis by now.

Loud guffaws erupted from his friends. It was a known fact that Tristan loved dreaming of things that were above his bend.

John added with a sneer, There’s more to be enjoyed here than in the colonies. I wouldn’t mind killing a good number of those savages, though.

Damn it, gentlemen. You’re ruining my birthday celebration with talks of the war, Edward chided coolly before motioning to one of the tavern maids to bring more wine to their table.

The slim girl with raven black hair and startling blue eyes glided to their table with a bright smile on her face.

More wine for you, fine gentleman, she said in a silk tone, winking at Corey in particular as she placed the bottle on the table.

Corey’s eyes fell on the low cut of her grey dress that offered tantalizing glimpses of her creamy voluptuous breasts. For a slim girl, she was shockingly endowed.

He read the invitation in her eyes but slowly shook his head. He wasn’t into tavern wenches. In fact, he wasn’t into women at the moment.

He had to be on his best behavior, else the earldom he was to inherit from his uncle would be only a dream. Uncle John wasn’t pleased that he hadn’t sired any son and so the title, and all the lands and properties that came with it, would fall on his nephew’s lap.

Consequently, he had threatened Corey that with just a little scandal attached to his name, he could kiss the title goodbye. Not that Corey was particularly interested in the designation. He was merely accepting it to please his mother. According to her, his late father would have wanted him to have it.

Corey, that comely wench hasn’t been able to take her eyes off you since we stepped foot in this establishment, Benjamin noted with a twinkle in his eyes.

I noticed it, too, Edward grumbled. I’m the birthday boy here but you’re the one the lass is eyeing. God’s night cloth, it’s so unfair.

Corey couldn’t help but smile. His friends always bellyached whenever they attended balls and soirees, and he easily got the attention of both the debutantes and married women. That was until they realized he was without wealth or title.

Tis his devilishly handsome looks, Tristan put in with a sneer. Curse that perfect height for a gentleman, ebony hair, blue eyes, aristocratic features, and well-built body!

Corey chuckled. Why, thank you, Tristan. I didn’t know you found me so becoming.

Yeah, well, not that you can do anything about her advances.

A howl of laughter erupted at their table.

What is that supposed to mean? Corey enquired with raised eyebrows.

John shrugged and gave him a knowing look. We all know that you’re not going to do anything about it.

Disgruntled, Corey enquired, Says who?

Us. Have you ever courted a woman? We dare you to go and woo the tavern maid.

Twin red spots stained Corey’s cheeks. You all know why I can’t.

Benjamin waved a hand in disdain. Bah! That’s a flimsy excuse. We aren’t in London. Surely, you bedding a common tavern maid ought not to raise your uncle’s eyebrows, brushy as they are.

Chuckles sounded from his other friends. Corey sat back on his chair and contemplated the dare that his friends just threw at him.

Then he shook his head. Anything could go wrong in the blink of an eye. Besides, he didn’t want his friends to know that he had never bedded a woman before even though he was one and twenty. He would find himself the brunt of lewd jokes.

Sitting up and placing his hands on the table, he stated firmly, My mother clearly warned me to stay scandal free.

Cease being tied to your mother’s apron string, Corey. She isn’t here, neither is your uncle.

Edward shrugged. If he doesn’t want to do it, leave him be. Mayhap he would like to be known as the pansy one out of all of us.

Corey’s face reddened at his friend’s words. Why they couldn’t understand that he just didn’t want to do such a thing was beyond him. There was nothing to gain from it. At least he didn’t think there was. Well, except for a dose of the clap.

Corey remained adamant that he wouldn’t do it. But as the night wore on and the men kept throwing barbed remarks at him, he finally gave in.

Damn it! he cursed as he pushed himself to his feet. His chair fell with a crash. He stumbled over to the bar.

The maid saw him coming, grinned broadly, and moved away from the bar.

I’d given up on you coming to me tonight. I’m mighty glad you changed your mind, the girl said as she wrapped her arm around his and led him toward the stairs.

Corey wanted to ask her where she learned how to speak perfect English, but he decided against it since he didn’t want her to feel insulted.

The intoxicated man stumbled his way up the wooden staircase with the maid holding firmly to his arms. His booted feet trudged heavily on the wooden floor as they walked past several rooms down the hallway. English soldiers at various states of undress led by tavern maids walked about the narrow corridor.

The maid finally opened a door at the end of the hallway and ushered him into a room that boasted of only a narrow bed, a fireplace, and a small chair. Cool air swished in from the open windows.

Without waiting for her to lead him to it, Corey drunkenly walked to the bed and fell heavily on it. His eyelids were so heavy that it was an effort to keep them open.

I’m going to take very good care of you, was the last thing he heard before his eyes closed in a drunken sleep.

SUNLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH the yellow and blue silk curtains. Corey’s eyes fluttered open and he blinked. A groan escaped from his throat when he tried lifting his head and was blinded by searing pain.

Raising both his arms, he held his head, wondering at the banging headache almost tearing it into two. If he didn’t take anything for it soon, he was certain that his mood for the day would be foul.

Corey made to rise from the bed and then he registered that he wasn’t in his room. The barely furbished room caused his eyes to widen.

Where am I?

And then everything came back to him. The night of foolish drinking with his friends and then the dare. Swiftly, he turned on the bed, moaning at the pain he received from the hasty movement.

Corey sat abruptly when his eyes focused on the woman lying beside him in a pool of blood with his dagger entranced in her chest.

ONE

WITH HIS HEART BEATING a rapid thud against his chest, Corey watched from the gangplank as the ship pulled away from the dock. With every second that passed, he expected to see the furious man who had caused him to jump from the window of the small room a few hours earlier.

His mind went back to the incident in the room after he found the dead girl on the bed.

While he had sat there in shock, wondering how his knife got stuck to the maid’s chest, the door had suddenly swung open and a tall, bearded man with black eyes and hair strode into the room.

With alarmed eyes filled with dismay, he had looked from the dead girl to Corey’s ashen face.

What have you done to my sister? the man had questioned with both horror and disbelief.

Finally finding his voice after gawking at the man for a few seconds, Corey had rasped out, I swear I didn’t kill her. I woke up only moments earlier to discover that she was dead.

With an angry snarl, the man had retrieved a pistol from his worn coat. Corey still felt it was a miracle that he had been able to dodge the bullets.

However, when the man continued shooting in a rage, Corey had known his only recourse was to flee from the room. Without giving it much thought, he had simply risen from the bed, thrown the chair beside it at the man before jumping out of the window.

Fortunately for him, he landed on a wagon filled with hay. Even though he was winded for some seconds from the jump, he hadn’t wasted time trying to catch his breath before he scurried down from the wagon.

Gun shots trailed after him down the cobbled street into the bushes.

You’ll hang for this. I swear on my mother’s grave, the man had yelled at him.

Corey hadn’t stopped running into the woods even though he had no idea where he was going. Afraid that the man would load his gun and come after him, he had continued running through the bushes for hours.

Lost, with no idea where he was, Corey had remained in the bushes, hoping that someone would come along the lonely road to assist him to get back to London.

Finally, he had heard the sound of a conveyance coming down the dirt road and had ducked behind a long trail of grasses. From his position, he discovered it was a farmer coming back from the farm with his produce.

Corey had solicited for his help, claiming that highwaymen robbed him of his valuables. Filled with sympathy, the old farmer had readily obliged in helping him to get to London.

The farmer had explained to Corey that it was just a few minutes ride to London. He was going to sell his produce to one of the merchants there. Corey listened half-heartedly to the conversation. His mind was on the dead girl in the tavern.

How did she come to have my dagger in her chest? He wondered for the umpteenth time as he swung away from the gangplank as the ship gathered speed. He hadn’t even known her name. Poor girl!

He had been able to secure a small cabin for himself in the Whistling Mary—His Majesty’s ship commissioned with taking new and old soldiers to the colonies.

When Corey had arrived back in London, he had first gone to the townhouse of his closest friend in Mayfair Street. Unfortunately, he was told that Benjamin wasn’t in residence and hadn’t been seen since the night afore. He also received similar news in Tristan, Edward, and John’s residences.

He had walked down to his townhouse in Hyde Street, wondering if something had happened to his friends. It was by sheer luck that he had been able to duck into an alley when he saw a carriage in front of his house.

From the alley, he had peeked with dreadfulness as the man who had shot at him at the tavern, walked down the steps of his house. His face was contorted in fury.

Shock had immobilized Corey for a few seconds. He hadn’t been able to believe that the man had discovered not only his identity but his place of residence as well.

It was very fortunate that his mother was in the countryside with some of her friends. Corey reckoned that he would have to write to her to stay there until he was able to sort himself out.

Corey had remained in his hiding position for minutes on end, waiting for the man to leave in his carriage. However, when minutes trickled into an hour, he deduced that the man had no intention of leaving. He was clearly waiting for Corey to return so that he could put a bullet in him or take him to the authorities for murder.

Corey had toyed with the idea of walking over to the carriage to try to explain to the man that he had nothing to do with his sister’s death. But he figured that that would get a bullet in his chest even before he opened his mouth. If the man hadn’t listened to him earlier, why would he listen to him now?

He debated on the chance that the man might have calmed down a little to listen to him. Corey shook his head. If anything, he would be more riled with the fact that he hadn’t been able to put a bullet in him.

Corey came back to the present. He walked down to the small but neat cabin and sat on the narrow bed. This would be his abode for the next weeks. He could only hope that in some way, the man hadn’t been able to gain passage to the ship. If that was the case, he might as well kiss his life goodbye.

The troubled man tried again to remember what happened after he entered the maid’s room. All he could recall was her telling him that she would take very good care of him.

It gnawed him that beyond that, he couldn’t recall what happened. But he was as certain as night followed day that he didn’t kill her.

It wasn’t in his nature to act first before thinking. He had always prided himself as being diplomatic. So, even if he saw her trying to steal from him, he wouldn’t have reacted violently by stabbing here even if she fought him. He would have tried talking to her.

Corey shook his head. No, he didn’t kill her. Someone killed her but he didn’t know who. He figured that maybe when he dozed off in a drunken stupor, someone came into the room to do the ugly deed.

Perhaps it was one of those foxed English officers who had wanted to have a turn with her. Maybe when she disagreed, in a drunken rage, the officer had sought to make her pay for the rejection.

Possibly, the man might not even know what he had done. But then, why his own dagger?

Corey raked his hand