Page 1 of Thorn Evermore

Prologue

Boston, Massachusetts 1773

“Where is my daughter, you scoundrel?”

I scan the room covertly, searching for an exit I desperately need. “I have not seen your daughter,” I answer. “Are you sure it is me you seek?”

“Quite sure,” Thomas Oliver, the town’s preacher, seethes in response. “You were seen by several parishioners leading her away to her ruin.”

“Wasn’t me,” I reply, stepping back to the window. “Must’ve been John Henry. He’s had his eye on her for weeks.”

“Where is Elizabeth?” Thomas shrieks as two other men rush me and grab my arms with their meaty hands.

Thomas stomps forward and punches me straight in the gut.

“Oof. You have quite a punch, preacher man. Elizabeth is not with me. Feel free to search my room.”

Thomas narrows his eyes, nodding to his goons, who beginto tear my humble room apart. What the preacher doesn’t know is that Elizabeth was here, but she’s safely on her way back to her own home, lifted out the window by yours truly when we heard the angry men coming.

“Besides,” I say, “Everyone in town knows of my…proclivities, I think you called them during service.”

“How would you know what happens in church? Your shadow has never darkened a pew.”

“I’m more aware than you know.”

“You’re disgusting,” the man next to Thomas spits at me. “You sin with men and taint the women with your lusty demands.”

“Aww, Angus. Are you jealous?”

Angus raises his fist and smashes it into my cheek. Ah, that one stung.

“Devil,” Angus growls at me.

“Last time, Nathaniel Quill,” the preacher says. “Return my daughter or prepare to meet the creator.”

I mock-gasp. “Is that a death threat? From a holy man? I am shocked. What would the fine townspeople of Boston have to say if they knew you were a man of violence?”

“Stop your incessant mocking. If you have harmed my Elizabeth?—”

“Relax, Preacher. I sent her on her way before you came. Lovely in her debauchery. She moaned my name like a holy word, like the god you so humbly serve. I bring her closer to heaven than you ever could.”

“Why, you?—”

We’re interrupted by the sound of gunshots and angry voices outside the pub next door. Thomas hurries to the window, peering out and listening for a moment. He twists around, glaring at me.

“The men head towards the harbor. We must assist our brothers.” He steps toward me, poking me hard in the chestwhen he reaches me. “You will see me again and pay for defiling my daughter.”

The preacher and his men flee, leaving me bruised and roughed up, but I can handle that. I suppose it’s time for me to move on again. Such a shame. I do enjoy the English-bred beauties of the American colonies. Perhaps I’ll try Philadelphia next. I’ve heard good things.

After packing up my meager belongings, I slip from my room, quickly enveloped in the madness of the city. Angry men march toward the harbor, the streets lined with Bostonians of all ages cheering them on.

In the crowd I spot the lovely Elizabeth and head toward her, my journey slowed by the townspeople shoving me and hurrying to watch the spectacle.

“Elizabeth.”

Her face lights up. “Nathaniel. You survived my father.”

I brush a golden curl from her forehead. “Thanks to this chaos. What is happening?”

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