by Kit Morgan
Those were his last thoughts as he approached the magistrate’s office and public jail. Aldrich reined his horse to a stop, jumped off and without bothering to tether the animal, went to bang on the door.
* * *
Tory ached all over. Being shackled and chained to a large iron ring in a prison wagon and gagged to boot didn’t help. She was furious and scared at the same time. Her earlier teetering between whether or not she was in another century was stilled by her current circumstances. Who, in her own time, would dare treat her this way? Not to mention she hadn’t heard a single car on the road they traveled. Saw no power lines silhouetted against the moon light through the tiny barred windows of the wagon. Nor had she caught the sound of airplanes cutting their way across the sky. Except for the constant clip-clop of horse’s hooves, the jangle of harness and rattlings from the wagon, there were no other sounds.
Unless one counted the complaining coming from the wagon’s driver’s seat. The magistrate had brought someone along, but it wasn’t his son. And from the sounds of it, they were arguing over money.
“Half is what I’ll take for helpin’ ye, Hughes and not a ha’ penny less,” spouted the stranger.
“You’ll get what I promised and no more. Stop trying to take more than you deserve.”
“Deserve? Like you deserve to collect the whole reward, do ye? I’d wager His Grace would be interested to hear that. Ye no tellin’ ‘im first what yer doin’ wi’ his governess.”
“She’s a traitor and I’ve got the proof. No one will argue the fact, including the duke. I’m doing him a favor.”
“Yer doin’ yerself the favor!” the stranger laughed. “Ye greedy dolcop! That’s no dribble-drabble ye’ve got trussed up back there.”
“Then you should take a closer look!”
“Maybe I will!”
And on it went. Tory rolled her eyes as she pulled at her shackled wrists for the umpteenth time. Gagged as she was, she couldn’t call for help very well and try as she might, couldn’t free herself either. She was at the magistrate’s mercy and judging from the men’s conversation, he wasn’t serving any that day. He was after money, any sort of money he could get for turning her in. She had no idea how much that was, but obviously enough to risk the duke’s wrath when he found out. Which, Hughes was doing his darn best to make sure didn’t happen until it was too late.
The fact they were carting her off to London after dark only added to her suspicion that Hughes didn’t want the duke or duchess to find out what he was up to. This meant his son would probably deny knowing where his father went. She could hear it now. “Prisoner? What prisoner? As you can see we’ve no prisoners here …”
Shivers went up her spine, despite the warm summer night. She was in a fix, a bad one. The law was different here and, like Hughes said, they hanged traitors. Even she knew that. But counterfeiters? No sentenced to twenty only to get out in ten on good behavior?
Tory went cold. Nope. Not in this century.
She pulled and twisted her wrists against the shackles again. How far was it to London? Would anyone know where to look for her? Not likely. The thought made her heart sink and her stomach roll. No matter how she looked at it, if no one found out where she was and came to her rescue, she was a goner.
* * *
“Where’s Aldrich?” Duncan asked and paced the library.
Dallan sniffed at the brandy in his glass, raised an appreciative eyebrow and took a small sip. “He’s gone after her of course.”
“Yes, but where?” Duncan asked and tossed his arms in the air. “He’s blind out there. He has no idea where she is!”
“Do you?” Dallan asked.
“You know I don’t!”
“Yer over reacting, Yer Grace.”
“Of course I’m over reacting. We have no idea what’s going on! For all we know that mad ring leader Lany told me about has her.”
“Nay, he hasna. He’s no due in the vicinity for another week or so, according to our sources. Everything’s going as planned.”
“Planned?” Duncan said, eyebrows raised. “Do you know where Miss Phelps is?”
“Of course.”
“Then why aren’t you doing something!”
Dallan smiled. “I am.”
“What?”
“I’m staying out of it. Ye ken the lad has to win her on his own, d’ye no?”
“Win her? What do you mean …” then he understood. “Oh yes, win her.”
“Sir Aldrich is a knight and a gallant rescue goes a long way, Your Grace. You ought to know that.”
“Yes, but in my case, Cozette rescued me. Well, she helped at any rate.”
“Aye and her actions made ye fall more deeply in love with her, did they no?”
Duncan blew out a long sigh. “Yes. They did.”
“Tory needs the lad to do this. He needs it. I’ll not interfere unless his warrior’s blood becomes too hot.”
Duncan plopped into his favorite chair. “Aldrich wouldn’t kill anyone … but you know best.” He picked at the brass studs of the armrest. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me anything more about how this all works? The blood lines of your wife.” He looked at him. “Of mine?”
“Our women are special, ye ken. Not of this world. We had little choice, you and I. We were destined for them. We could no more stop our pairings than stop the sun from rising. But Aldrich and Tory, they must battle as all humans do while falling in love. The doubt, the fear, the risk…”
Duncan ran a hand through his hair. He almost died while courting Cozette. He felt as if he couldn’t live without her. That if she died, he would soon follow and vice-versa. If that wasn’t a reason to marry her he didn’t know what was. Besides, it was the truth.
But Aldrich and Tory were both human, things were different for them. They didn’t have death looming over them if they didn’t join and become one. This whole scheme could still fall apart as far as he was concerned.
“What if it doesn’t work?” he suddenly blurted. “What if they don’t marry and have children? What’s the worst that can happen?”
Dallan glanced at the glass in his hand and sighed. “Then my wife and I will be the last ones with the ability to travel through time. For if Sir Aldrich Wolfe and Tory Phelps dinna marry and sire a son, there will be no one to come after us to keep the world in balance. To do that, ye have to clean up a lot of messes left behind by bad people throughout the centuries, ye ken.”
Duncan could only stare. “Dallan, what are you saying?”
“That if they fail, there will be no one to stop men like the ones who want to see them dead. Men who have wreaked havoc upon the world through time and are out to either rule it, or destroy it. And then, move on to others.”
Duncan fell back in his chair. “Now you tell me this?!”
Dallan shrugged. “What can I say? Yer no different than I was when first dragged into this ‘save the world business.’”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Duncan demanded.
Dallan smiled. “That this is much bigger than ye can possibly imagine, Your Grace.”
Seventeen
The wagon came to a lurching stop. Tory hit her shoulder against the wall and groaned into the gag. Ouch! She thought. Now what?
Why was she asking? She should be glad. Maybe she could make some sort of noise, attract attention. She felt the wagon move slightly side to side and knew the men were climbing down. A horse neighed in the distance and she could hear men’s voices.
“Water yer horses for ye, gov’ner?” a lad asked.
Tory struggled to right herself and pushed away from the wall. Maybe she could kick at it, alert someone to her presence.
A key was thrust into the door’s lock and, with a squeak of tumblers, turned. A man (presumably Hughes’ co-pilot) swung open the door with a creak of hinges. “Hullo, sweets.” His eyes raked over her. “Now ain’t ye a pretty thing?”
“Quiet!” Hughes snapped and stepped around the d
oor. “Bob! No speaking with the prisoner!”
Bob, Tory repeated in her head. So that’s his name. Followed by prisoner! Great, who’s going to pay attention to someone locked up in a wagon meant to transport prisoners?
Her situation was becoming more precarious by the minute.
Bob made a face at Hughes and slammed the door shut, locking her inside once more.
Tory struggled to her knees and tried to stand. She had to see what was going on. It was dark, but if there were lanterns or torches lit, she might get an idea of where she was. Maybe leave a clue. But what? A hairpin? Geez! What good would that do?
She quickly scanned the interior of the wagon. There was nothing in it but her. She struggled again to stand and see out, but it was difficult. Her feet kept getting tangled up in the skirt of her dress.
Feet! That’s it!
Tory did her best to wiggle a slipper off one foot. She’d have to wait until tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum climbed back on the wagon and they set off again. Two shoes, two clues. It was all she had but she’d use them. Then she’d pray. Really, really hard.
After about ten minutes, the wagon set off again. Neither of her captors spoke to her. In fact, they ignored her completely other than tweedle-dum’s leering earlier. Good.
She waited until they were out of the village or where ever it was they’d stopped, then got to her feet, one slipper in hand. The window was small but she could easily get one through the bars. If Aldrich was tracking them, he’d see it and know he was on their trail.
Tory smiled at the thought and tossed the shoe at the window with a sudden yank of chain.
The shoe hit the wall and plopped to the floor. Tory rolled her eyes and groaned in frustration. She didn’t have enough slack in the chain to get a good toss. Rats!
“I say we stop,” came tweedle-dee’s voice from up front.
Oh no! Had they heard? Tory couldn’t reach the slipper with her hands. She quickly sat, stretched out a leg and got it between her feet.
“Stop? What for?” came Hughes’ voice.
She tucked both shoes under her skirt.
“Because there ain’t nothing that says we have to turn over the lady in one piece, is there?”
“What are you talking about, Bob?”
“About that fine piece back there. What say ye let me have ten minutes with her?”
Tory sat up straight. Oh no! Not that! She made a face. Ew!
“What?” Hughes snapped. “Don’t be daft. I want to get to London and collect that reward!”
“Five minutes.”
Silence. That wasn’t good. That meant Hughes was thinking about it.
“All right, tell you what I’ll do. You can do what you want with her, but I keep driving. You’ll have to make the best of it.”
A triumphant cackle sounded from tweedle-dum as the wagon slowed to a stop.
No, no, no! This can’t be happening to me! She thought and pulled wildly at the chain binding her to the iron ring.
The wagon lurched slightly to one side as tweedle-dum climbed down. She listened to his foot steps come around the wagon. The key in the lock. The creak of tired hinges.
The door opened and her worst nightmare stood silhouetted against the bright moonlight.
“Hullo, sweet,” he rasped.
Tory felt tears come to her eyes, despite feeling a rage so keen, so intense, if not chained, she’d kill him. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option bound and gagged as she was.
Best she start praying. Really, really, really hard.
* * *
Aldrich fought the urge to push his horse to the animal’s limits. He had to catch up! The youth hadn’t given him much information, but it was enough to piece together a few details and figure out what happened. Thomas Hughes, the new magistrate, had indeed arrested Tory. Under what charge Aldrich had no idea, all he got out of the youth was it was a serious one. The boy gave no names or even if Hughes had arrested a man or woman, only that he was transporting a prisoner to London. It had to be Tory.
But why take her at night? That made no sense. Unless Hughes was in a big hurry and didn’t want the duke to find out he’d taken his wife’s tutor under false pretenses. And what could Tory have possibly done to make Hughes take such a risk? What would he gain?
Unless…
There were only so many things Hughes could get out of it. But that meant Tory would have had to commit a crime against the crown and again, there were only so many of those that would result in a reward. High treason came to mind, but how could Hughes arrest her on that charge and make it stick?
At this point it didn’t matter. All that did was rescuing her. Because Aldrich knew that they hanged traitors. There was also a reward that went to anyone who turned one in with proof.
Aldrich spurred his horse to go faster.
* * *
“Dallan, should we not help?” Shona asked as she watched him expertly load a pistol. “And is that the right type for this century?”
“Aye, lass. ‘Tis the correct weapon.”
“Are you planning on using it?”
“Only if I have to.” He looked at her. “Using you would draw too much attention, aye?”
She smiled. “True.” They both knew what she was capable of. No one else involved in this assignment, with the exception of Lany, did. Sometimes she didn’t like keeping people in the dark. The secretiveness of who and what she was, of whom and where Dallan came from, however, was necessary.
What Duncan and Cozette did know was that Dallan and she, like Aldrich and Tory, had been brought together, that both were from different centuries. Dallan from the seventeenth, she from the latter part of the twentieth. Theirs was a tumultuous story, fraught with danger and death. But here they were, two people with the ability to travel through time. They were never allowed to tell people how. Never allowed to show anyone. Let them imagine how they did it, picture some monstrous machine lit up with thousands of lights to accomplish the impossible. Besides, it was easier for people to believe something like that than the truth.
Shona wasn’t human. And only a handful could do what she could. But others of her kind, corrupted ones, wanted to make sure her bloodline was wiped out. That compatible mates, be they of her race or human, did not produce another like her. Aldrich and Tory could have a child compatible enough to be a match for one of her kind, thus creating someone with powers similar to her own if brought together. Maybe.
After all, there were no guarantees.
It was complicated how it worked and confused humans to no end. Lany was right, it was best to keep others on a “as they need to know basis.” Besides, if humans knew that her race had been stranded on their planet for thousands of years, they’d panic. Worse, if they knew that a handful of her race were bent on controlling this world and with power of the kind she possessed … well, they’d not be keen on letting her live. Shona and Dallan’s job was to make sure that didn’t happen, on both counts. And, of course, continue to bring together those of the human race that might be compatible with those of hers. Just like they had with Duncan and Cozette.
“Are ye ready lass?” Dallan asked. “
He needs to do this on his own. His acts will seal their hearts. You said so yourself.”
“Aye, but remember, he’s descended from Atticus Wolfe, one of the finest warriors in history. We wouldna want him to make his ancestors too proud.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, curious.
Dallan grinned. “It means we’re no going to help Aldrich rescue Tory. We’re going to rescue the poor fools that took her. Now let’s go.”
Shona laughed, picked up the knap sack and together, they left the house.
* * *
Aldrich approached a bend in the road and thought he heard a wagon and a woman’s muffled scream, but wasn’t sure. He brought his horse to a skidding stop. The rattle of wheels reached him and he urged his horse ahead with caution. Who knew what was around that bend. When he did get around
it, a bulky shape moving along at a good clip came into view, passed under some trees and disappeared into their darkness. Tory, it had to be! Aldrich kicked his horse into a gallop and chased after it. When he caught up he noted one of the rear doors of the prison wagon was un-latched. It swung back and forth like a window shutter in a strong wind. Aldrich guided his horse to it, leaped off, caught the free door and flung himself into the back of the wagon..
“Blimey! What was that?” a man exclaimed and rose to his knees.
Aldrich seethed. It was dark in the enclosed space, but not so dark that he couldn’t tell the man was on top of a woman! Aldrich growled, grabbed the blighter by his collar and yanked him off of Tory.
The man twisted around, swung at him and missed. Aldrich spun him around and punched him square in the gut, doubling him over with a loud grunt.
“Bob! What’s going on back there?” came a voice from the driver’s seat.
Aldrich growled again, yanked the blackguard’s head up by the hair and delivered a splendid blow that sent him flying through the open door. He landed in the middle of the road and lay there. Aldrich didn’t care if he was dead or not. Tory was his only concern.
He went to her, heard her whimper and took her into his arms. “Tory, are you all right?” She was loosely gagged and wore a pair of manacles attached by a chain to an iron ring in wall. He quickly removed the gag. Her attacker obviously enjoyed hearing a woman scream. If the gag had been fully in place, he might not have heard her when he did and that cur would have … he shook it off. “Tell me, darling, are you all right?!” There had never been so much worry in his voice. “Tory!”
The wagon began to slow. She looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “I am now,” she rasped then coughed a few times.
Aldrich crushed her to him. “Thank God.” He looked at her. “Did he …”
