What did I expect? It is quite the revelation to have sprung on you in the middle of the night in a lonely, dark corridor.
“Ye mean that, whilst ye are puttin’ on the shows, some of yer performers are out thievin’ from the very people who are payin’ their hard-earned money tae watch the rest of ye perform?”
Beatrice had expected his repugnance at the truth to cut her, but she had not expected the pain and crushing guilt that she felt on hearing the disappointment in Jeames’s voice.
She took a deep breath and, with the air of one drawing out some painful poison from a wound, said, “No. That is not how we do it. Rather than stealing little by little over the days we visit a town –however long that might be–William prefers us to swoop in and rob the place on the last night…”
Jeames run a hand through his hair. Then he rubbed his eyes. Then ran a hand through his hair again.
I would not be surprised to see him pinch himself to check that he is awake. This, unfortunately though, is no dream, no nightmare.
“But–but tonight was tae be yer last performance in Aberdale,” he said eventually.
“Yes.”
“Then…” Jemes suddenly looked up at her. “Why are ye up, Beatrice?”
Tears sparkled in Beatrice’s hazel eyes and pattered to the ground as she hung her head. “I had to do it,” she said, thickly. “I didn’t want to do it, not after you and I…But I owe William so much, you see, and…Jeames, I’m sorry, but tonight I was meant to let William and a select group of performers into the castle so that they could make off with as much as they could carry.”
Jeames leaned against the wall next to Beatrice. He tilted his head back until it was resting on the cold stone. In the light of the candle, his face looked as grim and pale as a death mask.
“Where were ye meant tae be lettin’ these associates of yers in?” he asked her in a flat voice.
“Through the parlor door that leads out to the garden with the stone bench,” Beatrice replied. “But I would not put it past William to have people try other doors too.”
“Right.”
Silence fell, an oppressive silence that was almost thicker than the night that pressed in on them at the edge of the candlelight.
“Jeames, I did not want to do this,” Beatrice said. Now that she had made her confession she felt very weary.
At least that, whatever happens next, it will happen under the light shed by the truth.
“I did it because I owe William. I have always owed him, and there is not a time, that I can see, when I will not owe him, because he took me in and gave me a life after my parents were killed.”
Jeames was silent next to her.
“When he saw how deeply I cared for you, when he saw that I had fallen in, well, he knew that I would help him to make sure that there was less chance of anything bad happening to you or anyone in the castle.”
Jeames looked over at her at this. “So, the whole time ye were here, ye were just–what?–lookin’ fer weaknesses? Were ye ever even really hurt?”
The pain that was in his tone was enough to bring fresh tears to Beatrice’s eyes.
“I never lied about anything,” she said. “I swear. I suspected that William had let you bring me back here because he had designs of his own, but I hoped that I would get to stay here as a proper guest, unmolested by his plots. It turns out though, that I’m not that lucky.”
Jeames pushed himself away from the wall. His dark brown eyes bored into hers.
“So, ye’re tellin’ me that MacKenzie Castle is the target off a raid this evenin’?”
“Yes.”
Jeames nodded.
“Right. And ye are tellin’ me this because…?”
“Because I’ve come to a crossroads. One road leads back to the life I was living. The other road, I was hoping, might be one that we could walk together. Though, after this, I would understand if you despised the very sight of me.”
Beatrice swallowed and hung her head again.
To her astonishment, she felt Jeames’s hand raise her chin. She found herself looking directly into those searching brown eyes.
“Tell me one last thing, Beatrice,” he said, and his voice was gentle. “Everythin’ that happened between us, was that all part of some sort of act? Or did you feel what I felt?”
Beatrice cupped his face in her hands. She felt the stubble on his strong jaw, traced the underside of one eye with her thumb, “Jeames,” she said, “I’m a fine performer, but even I am not that good.”
Jeames leaned forward and kissed her. His arms went about her waist and he lifted her body from the ground and held her tight to him. After several magical, fantastic moments, in which Beatrice’s immediate cares dissipated like mist in the sun, Jeames set her down on her feet.
“That,” he said, his eyes still closed. “Is all that I need tae ken.”
He opened his eyes and gave her one of his smiles. It clearly required some effort, but it was the Jeames Abernathy that Beatrice had known and come to love.
“Now,” the Highlander said, suddenly stern. “If I summon guards tae watch every door, is there any reason why I should fear the circus folk?”
Beatrice nodded. “Yes,” she said. “There is. When you think of us, you conjure images of jesters and jugglers, contortionists, and acrobats. In reality though, Jeames, these people, due to their profession and way of life are as strong and agile and quiet as anyone you are likely to meet.”
“You think that they might present some problems fer me soldiers?” Jeames asked. His tone was skeptical.
“They are used to roughness and hardship thanks to a life on the road. They are driven because they are doing this to help look after each other. Ballantine’s Circus is, if it is anything, a family of sorts. So, yes, I do think that they will pose some problems for your guards.”
Jeames took Beatrice gently by the arm and began to guide her down the hallway, towards the stairs.
“Well, me first responsibility is tae those in the castle. I must alert the guards.”
Beatrice nodded. Then she grabbed Jeames’s hand and pulled him to a halt. “Jeames,” she said, her tone deadly serious. “They could already be inside, you know. Be careful. There are some performers, the jugglers, the acrobats, who have feet as light as any cat. And there is something else that William said to me.”
Jeames frowned at the mention of William’s name. “What?” he said.
“He told me that if anyone was to get in their way, he would not think twice about killing them.”
The set of Jeames’s mouth was as grim and hard as an axe wound in a lump of wood.
“Right,” he said. “Well, luckily I ken this castle better than anyone else except Ables. That’s why I can move about it at night without a candle.”
He held out his hand and Beatrice took it.
“Let’s go and put a stop tae this, lass,” he said.
He leaned forward, blew out the taper and plunged them into darkness.
26
Jeames led Beatrice by the hand through the pitch dark of the sleeping castle. Now that Beatrice’s candle had been extinguished, the only light was provided by what little moonlight filtered in through the windows.
A half-moon does nae give much light, which will be an advantage fer us. How right my mither was when she said that it was this moon that was the most magical, that brought the most change. Both fer meself, and fer Mr. Ballantine.
He had, unsurprisingly, almost been floored by Beatrice’s confession. In a sudden rush, each and every sour mood or strangle look had been explained, especially the woman’s behavior after meeting with Mr. Ballantine.
Tae be coerced by guilt into commintin’ such crimes, by someone ye loved as family… That is harsh. If only she had come tae me at the very start.
Jeames was a practical Highlander and, whilst he had still not gotten over the shock of the revelation, he had more pressing business to worry about now. It was imperative that he protect the
castle from these thieves and, more importantly, those who lived and worked within its walls.
Jeames led Beatrice through corridors and passages that, he was sure, would have had the young equestrienne quite baffled if she had been left to navigate them alone.
After moving as quietly as a couple of voles in the grass, they eventually made it to the rear entrance of the wing of the castle in which the guards had their quarters. Still moving quietly, Jeames pushed open the doors and went inside.
He found most of the guards sound asleep, snoring noisily. Despite all he could do, he could only manage to rouse about a dozen men.
“What the hell is wrong wi’ the rest of ‘em?” he asked one of the guards, whom he recognized as a veteran.
The guardsman rubbed his head. He was clearly groggy.
“Master Jeames, I daenae ken what happed wi’ me and the lads. We had a few mugs o’ ale, only a few as we were on duty fer part of the night, and, well, it hit us all like a sack o’ spuds dropped from a tower window!”
Beatrice gasped. “I forgot! William dosed the ale that was set aside for the castle with some sort of herbal sleeping draught.”
Jeames cursed. “All right,” he said, looking about. “A dozen men should be enough anyhow.”
He then ordered the men, making sure to speak slowly and clearly, to take up positions on every door through which a thief might be likely to try their luck.
“Be vigilant, lads,” he said, as they dispersed to their posts. “If there must be a scrap, try and take ‘em alive. I’ll have nay bloodshed inside the castle if it can be helped.”
The guards disappeared to the doors and posts that Jeames had assigned them, to wait and watch.
“And what about us?” Beatrice asked, as the last of the men moved quietly off, groggily shaking his head and checking the edge of his broadsword for sharpness.
“Us?” Jeames asked, looking at her in surprise. “What do ye mean us?”
“Well, where are we going to go? What door are we taking?”
Jeames laughed. Then he saw that she was not joking.
“Beatrice, I was thinkin’ that the two of us would stay here, or in me chambers and wait fer the guards tae–”
But Beatrice cut him off. “That’s not going to work for a couple of reasons, I’m afraid,” she said.
“Why?” Jeames asked. He was feeling slightly exasperated, slightly amused.
“Because, I don’t want anyone to die on my account,” Beatrice said. She had her chin held high, but Jeames could see that there was fear in her eyes. “Your guards are weakened, woozy and will undoubtedly take my circus associates lightly. I want you and I to go down to the parlor door. If we can stop William there, where I have agreed to let him in, then I think the rest of the people he has talked into helping him should surrender.”
Jeames was skeptical. He was a fair judge of men, having learned the skill from sitting at his father’s side on many a meeting. He had seen the avaricious look in William Ballantine’s eyes. Had recognized the predatory, determined way in which he moved. He had seen men move like that before, on the battlefield. Those were the men to watch: sure of themselves, resolutely fixed on their goal, whatever it might be.
“Beatrice, I ken that ye love William as a faither,” Jeames said, trying to be as delicate as he could be. “But I think ye have tae realize that this man is…is…” he groped for a word that wouldn’t sound too dramatic.
“Dangerous?” Beatrice said.
Jeames nodded his head slowly. “Aye. Dangerous. I have only met the man a few times, o’ course, but he is evidently big and strong and ruthless.”
Beatrice set her jaw. She was, finally, it seemed to Jeames, seeing William in a new light.
And it is nae a flatterin’ one.
“I’m aware of what sort of man he is. I have known all the time that I have known him. If I am honest though, he, and I, do not forget, have performed these crimes out of necessity, to supplement the circus’s funds.”
“Aye, I can understand that,” Jeames said, in what he hoped was an appeasing voice. “But –”
“You do not have to tread lightly around the issue,” Beatrice said to him, looking at him from under her lids and suddenly looking a little older than her one and twenty years. “I know that he is capable of doing what he said he would do if anyone got in the way. It is not in William’s nature to make empty threats. He might skirt the truth in his silver-tongued way, but I have never heard him utter an outright lie.”
Jeames considered the equestrienne. He could see though, in the set of her face and the tilt of her chin, that she meant to try and stop her old friend.
“All right then, lass,” he said. “Let’s go and see if we can stop Mr. Ballantine doin’ something that he will nae live tae regret. We’ll wait fer him at the parlor door.”
The two of them set off from the little in-castle barracks. They crossed the open courtyard that separated the barracks from the main bailey, walking as if they had every right to be there.
“I’m hopin’,” Jeames said to her, as they walked across. “That, if Ballantine has anyone watchin’ the place, they will just assume that we are out takin’ a moonlit stroll taegether.”
“Why do we not just go back through the castle, the way that we came?” Beatrice asked.
Jeames put his arm around her. “Because,” he said softly into her ear. “This way is quicker, and the night is gettin’ old. If William has tae wait too long, I feel as if he will take matters into his own hands.”
They entered the bailey through the main doors, passing two of Jeames’s guardsmen crouched in the shadows. Turning down a passageway, Jeames motioned for Beatrice to be quiet and wait and crept on ahead.
He edged closer to the door, moving silently despite his muscular bulk. He knew every creak in his castle, every loose floorboard and every squeaky door. In that respect he would have a distinct advantage over Mr. Ballantine and those he had roped in to help rob Jeames’s ancestral home with him.
Jeames paused by the door to the parlor and carefully pressed his ear to the wood. There was no sound from inside. He waited for twenty heartbeats, but still nothing stirred from inside the room. He motioned for Beatrice to come to him. Then he carefully pulled back the latch and pushed the door open.
The room was completely empty. Nothing disturbed the dark and the quiet.
Nae yet at least.
He and Beatrice slipped into the room like a couple of shadows. Jeames had thought himself a stealthy mover but, just as she had done when it came to riding horses, she made Jeames look like an amateur. She was so light-footed that Jeames could not hear her moving even though she was walking right behind him.
When he spoke, Jeames tried to whisper almost soundlessly. He was not sure if William was outside of the door yet or not, but he obviously did not want to give the game away.
“All right, lass,” he said, almost mouthing the words. “Ye go and take up yer position by the door and wait fer Mr. Ballantine’s signal. I’ll hide over in that shadowy corner behind the curtain and keep an eye out.”
The equestrienne looked quite frightened, but resolute too. She nodded. Jeames clutched her arm briefly. “It’ll be fine, lass. He’s nae goin’ tae dae anythin’ tae ye. Convince him tae turn around if ye can, otherwise…”
“Otherwise what?” Beatrice whispered.
Jeames did not much fancy having to speak openly of what would occur. He knew well enough what might happen when two men such as himself and Mr. Ballantine went toe-to-toe.
“If he doesn’t much fancy the idea of givin’ the whole scheme up,” Jeames said, speaking directly into Beatrice’s ear so that he could feel her skin brush against his lips. “Then try and get him as close tae where I’ll be hidin’ as ye can. He has tae be stopped, Beatrice, one way or another. That’s the hard truth o’ the matter.”
He watched the resolve at what she had to do enter Beatrice’s eyes. He squeezed her shoulder. “That’s right, lass
. Now, let’s get it done. The faster, the less likely it is anyone will get hurt.”
They took up their allotted positions and settled into wait. The night crawled along. It was so late that it was almost the early morning when Beatrice, who had fallen into a slightly doze despite the tension of the situation, heard a soft tap from the other side of the parlor door.
She woke up wide in a splintered second. The tap came again, convincing her that the time had come. It did not surprise her. It was the deep dark that comes in the hour or so just before the dawn, when man and beast are dead asleep.
The tap came a third time. Beatrice reached for the bolt on the door and, with the care and quiet that she would have employed had she been genuinely taking part in this bit of thieving, she slid it across. The bolt slipped free and she pulled the door slowly open.
Awakening His Highland Soul (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance) Page 25
