Scandalous

by Candace Camp

  A little shakily, she followed John out of the hut. She glanced around and found his darker form in the dim landscape. He was kneeling beside the tall guard, and he hauled the man up into a sitting position as Priscilla came up behind him. Blood trickled from the villain’s nose and smeared his chin. His eyes rolled vaguely. He moved his arms and legs a little, as though not quite sure where they were or what they were supposed to do.

  “I am glad to see that you’re coming to,” John said conversationally. “I was wanting to have a bit of chat with you.”

  The other man let out a snuffle that conveyed surprise.

  “You thought I wouldn’t? Oh, no, I am most eager to talk to you. Or, I should say, to hear what you have to say.”

  “Won’t tell you nothin’,” the man mumbled.

  “You think not?” There was a dangerous quality to John’s voice that Priscilla found rather chilling. “Somehow I think you will change your mind. Priscilla, dear, does that dress of yours have a sash?”

  Priscilla blinked. “Uh, yes.”

  “Good. Then may I have it?”

  Priscilla began to untie the sash, asking uneasily, “What are you planning to do?”

  “Just tie up our friend here,” John replied, whipping the man over onto his face and pulling his arms behind him before he could even begin to struggle. “Thank you.”

  He took the sash from Priscilla’s hand and proceeded to tie the man up efficiently, knotting the fabric around his hands, then pulling the long strand of cloth down to tie it around the man’s ankles, so that he lay awkwardly, his hands drawn back and down, and his feet up behind his back.

  “’Ey!” the man protested.

  “What? Are you uncomfortable? How unfortunate. Of course, I could have tossed you into that cabin and left you there in the dark for a few days, the way you did Priscilla and me. Until I brought back the constable. How long do you suppose you will get in prison?”

  It occurred to Priscilla that John was talking this way in order to scare the man so that he would talk freely. But his voice and face were so cold, so suddenly foreign to her, that it frightened her a little. She went on hastily, “I think that getting the constable is an excellent idea. Why don’t you put him in the shack and let’s go?”

  “The English are very law-abiding people, I find,” John remarked. “I admire that in them. Of course, in America, we are not quite so particular. There’s not always law around in the wilds, you see, and we are more apt to mete out our own justice. They hang men, you know, just for thievery.” He lowered his voice, saying, “Worse than that, when it comes to harming a woman.”

  He hunkered down beside the man’s head, staring down steadily into his eyes. “I don’t take kindly to man-handling women. Especially when it is a woman who belongs to me.”

  Normally Priscilla would have bridled at the way he had referred to her, but she was too worried now about what his intentions were to bother with such niceties. She laid a hand on John’s shoulder, softly saying his name.

  Without moving his gaze from the other man’s face, John patted her hand and said, “It’s all right, Priscilla. Maybe you should go back into that little cabin, or over on the other side of it.”

  “Why?”

  “So you won’t have to hear or see anything that would offend you,” John replied. “A slow death is not a pleasant thing to watch.”

  Priscilla’s jaw dropped. The captive’s eyes widened, the whites of his eyes glistening in the dark.

  Priscilla stared at John, then said firmly, “No, thank you, I shall stay right here. John, what are you planning to do?”

  “I wanted to ask this man—Will, your partner called you, wasn’t it?—I wanted to ask Will some questions. For instance, who his partner is and why they attacked me. Why they kidnapped you. How they know Benjamin Oliver. That sort of thing. The only problem is, he said that he was not going to answer.”

  Priscilla went a little weak with relief. He was trying to frighten the man into answering questions. It had been foolish of her to suspect anything else. However, she was careful not to let her feelings show. It would ruin John’s plan if she acted as if she didn’t believe him.

  “Oh, dear. Well, he might talk to you, you know. Perhaps he has changed his mind.” She turned toward the ruffian on the ground. “Won’t you reconsider?”

  “I ain’t no bleeding ratter,” the man named Will responded, but his voice was less sure than it had been earlier.

  “See? I told you. I will try to make him talk, of course. There are several things I learned from the Indians. Not many men can stand up to them.”

  Will’s face turned a paler color, but John went on, oblivious, “But in the end, I imagine I shall have to kill him. Give him the death he deserves for hurting you.”

  “I’m not sure that it is worth killing over, you know,” Priscilla suggested.

  “We handle things differently in the United States. You can’t let anyone get away with harming you or yours, or people will think you’re weak. It’s a hard land. Fortunately, living with the Indians those two years toughened me up.”

  “I—I’ve read of the sort of things they do to their captives. It’s horrid, barbaric,” Priscilla said, putting a quaver into her voice.

  She was certain now that he must be putting on an act. But even so, she could not suppress a little gasp when he reached behind him and pulled a large knife from his belt. “John!”

  “Did you think I would go out without a weapon when I came hunting for you? A knife is better than a gun in many ways, when you know how to use it. It’s quiet, and it’s better for what I need to do now.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked dutifully, sneaking a glance at the other man’s face. Beads of sweat had popped out on Will’s upper lip and forehead, and she could see his throat bob as he swallowed nervously.

  “I’m not sure. I thought of cutting out his tongue, but that would be defeating my purpose, now, wouldn’t it? Staking him out on an anthill would take too long. Besides, I haven’t got the equipment I’d need. I saw the Apaches skin a man alive once. It would probably be most effective.”

  A choked noise came from Will, and John glanced at him indifferently.

  “I do know what I will do when I have finished with him. I am going to scalp him. Start cutting right about there.” He leaned over and touched the edge of the man’s hairline. “Then peel the skin right back.”

  “John!” It did not take much acting for Priscilla to sound appalled.

  “Don’t worry, Pris, you don’t have to see it. That’s why I told you to move away. It isn’t a sight for a fine lady like you.”

  “No! I won’t let you do this!” Priscilla exclaimed.

  “You don’t have any choice.”

  Priscilla swung agitatedly to the man on the ground. “Please! Tell him what he wants to know! You can save yourself.”

  Will was sweating profusely now; the front of his shirt was soaked. He licked his lips, his eyes darting to the large knife in John’s hand.

  “Well, I might as well start.” John moved closer, the knife glittering in the moonlight. Will tried frantically to wiggle back from him, but John rolled him over and planted a foot firmly on his chest, pinning him to the ground. He leaned closer and placed the knife between the edges of Will’s shirt. Slowly he drew the knife downward, and the fabric parted like melting butter beneath the sharp blade, leaving a thin line of blood down the front of the man’s chest.

  Priscilla jumped, her stomach turning, and let out a cry. Will yelped.

  “Guess I better gag you,” John said, whipping his handkerchief out of his pocket. “Can’t have you making too much noise.”

  “John! You cannot! You must not!” Priscilla ran forward and dropped down on her knees beside Will. “Please, you must tell him what he wants to know.”

  “Step aside, Pris.”

  “Please! Tell him! Where is your partner? What is his name? How do you know Benjamin Oliver?”

 
John leaned over him with the gag, bringing the cloth down toward Will’s mouth.

  “All right! All right!” Will burst out. “I’ll tell ye everything I know. Just—just don’t let that madman loose on me.”

  “Excellent.” Priscilla settled down on the ground beside Will. “Now, let us begin with Benjamin Oliver. Who is he?”

  “I don’t know. I never seen the bloke ‘fore ‘e ‘ired Mapes ‘n’ me!”

  “Then you were not cohorts of his?” Priscilla asked.

  “I don’t know what that is, but we wasn’t nothin’ to ‘im. ‘E’s some bleedin’ gen’leman, ‘e is, always puttin’ on airs and actin’ like some ladies’ man. Bleedin’ pouf. ‘I paid you good money,’ ‘e says, ‘and now you say you’ve lost ‘im. Well, find ‘im, man.’ As if it was that easy. I’d like to see ‘im keep ‘is ‘ands on that one. I’d like to see ‘im duke it out with ‘im.”

  “Believe me, I’d like to see it, too,” John put in dryly. “But why is Oliver so concerned about keeping hold of me?”

  “’Ow should I know? The likes of ‘im don’t confide in the likes of me. Ye’ll ‘ave to ask ‘im that yerself.”

  “I suppose I shall. Did he tell you to kill me?”

  “No. It’d of been a lot easier, I can tell ye that, but ‘im, ‘e’s all squeamish about blood, ye see. ‘E says as we’re just to lock you up in that cabin and keep ye.”

  “But why?”

  The man attempted a shrug. “I told ye, ‘e didn’t let us in on ‘is plans. ‘E just said follow ye, and knock ye on the ‘ead right before ye get to Elverton. ‘E paid us ‘alf before, and ‘e was goin’ to pay the other ‘alf when the job was ended.”

  “And when was that to be?”

  “I don’t know. ‘E said ‘e’d get to us if we ‘oled up at the Dolphin—that’s where ye found us. Only ‘e came stormin’ in right before ye came, jawin’ at me ‘cause ‘e’d seen ye in town. ‘E wanted to know why we ‘adn’t told ‘im we’d lost ye—and I’d like to know ‘ow we could, when ‘e ‘adn’t ever showed up there before. Wot was we supposed to do, I’d like to know? ‘E told us we’d better get ye back if we wanted our money. I told ‘im we was tired of playing cat ‘n’ mouse in the wilds. It ain’t right to live out ‘ere with all them trees and the like. Everybody watches ye when ye walk down the street, ‘n’ there’s no place to hide. We just wanted to go back to London, and that’s the truth. Only ‘e said ‘e’d ‘ave our ‘ides if we did that.” Indignation filled his face. “’E said as ‘ow ‘e’d bring us up afore the constable and tell ‘im we’d stolen from ‘im. So if we wanted to stay out of jail, we’d better find you. And that’s when ye and yer lady friend showed up, and we figured we could get ye back if we took ‘er. Mapes, see, remembered ‘er from when we was lookin’ for ye, and she said she hadn’t seen ye.”

  Will shot a resentful look at Priscilla. “Ye lied to us.”

  “Well, yes, I did,” Priscilla admitted.

  “Damn!” John sat back on his heels. “So we still have no idea why Oliver would want to get rid of me. Or why he wanted me held and not killed.”

  “Maybe it was what this man said—he was squeamish about killing someone.”

  “’E said as ‘ow ‘e’d talk ye into leaving. ‘E thought if you were ‘ungry and scared enough, ye’d take off if ‘e let you go.”

  “Or maybe he hoped you would die from exposure and starvation, and he could pretend he was not responsible,” Priscilla said. “That would fit Mr. Oliver’s personality exactly. He’s cowardly and sneaky.”

  “The only thing to do now is to confront Oliver.” John looked down at Will with narrowed eyes. “And what am I going to do with you?”

  “Let me go?” the man suggested hopefully, trying what Priscilla assumed he must think was a winning smile.

  “To run around trying to kidnap me or Priscilla again? I think not.”

  “We wouldn’t!” Will assured him. “I swear, we wouldn’t. We’d shake the dust of this bleedin’ place off our feet in a trice. All we want is to go back to London, and that’s the truth.”

  “So I should let you return to London to rob and kidnap people there? I don’t think so. No, I’m afraid that Priscilla is right. I must take you and your accomplice to the constable. However, if you were to tell him your story about Mr. Oliver, you might have an easier time of it. They usually enjoy catching the bigger fish more than the small fry.”

  “’E wouldn’t believe me, not against a gen’leman like Oliver.”

  “Ah, but Priscilla and I can testify that we saw him talking to you. I think the constable will believe you. Besides, I hope to get a little information out of Mr. Oliver that might help your story make more sense. Anyway,” he pointed out practically, “look on the bright side of it. I am not going to scalp you now, or any of those other things, since you told me about Oliver. Now, where’s Mapes?”

  “Mapes?” Will replied, looking blank.

  “Yes, Mapes. Your partner. Where is he?”

  “’E’s out in the woods. That’s where we been stayin’ the past days, on account o’ ye seein’ us in town. It’s a fearful place, too, I’ll tell you. All sorts of noises; things rustlin’ and birds ‘ootin’ and such. I couldn’t sleep at all last night.”

  “Mm… Dreadful, I’m sure. I am going to untie you and let you take me to Mr. Mapes at your campsite.”

  John went behind him and began to untie the sash from his ankles. When that was done, he stopped. “Wait. I have a better idea. When is Mapes going to come to relieve you?”

  “’Bout ‘alfway through the night. That’s what we agreed—if ‘e don’t cheat me on it.”

  “That sort, is he?”

  Will gave him an odd look. “Ain’t everybody?”

  A faint smile touched John’s mouth. “Apparently everyone you know is. Well, my good man, I have decided to put you in the cabin, where you so recently kept Miss Hamilton. I shall retie your legs, but more comfortably, and I fear I shall have to use the gag this time. We can’t have you alerting your partner, now can we?”

  The man rose to his feet and shambled docilely in front of John to the cabin. There John rebound his ankles and gagged him, then left him in the shed, pulling down the heavy wooden bar. He turned, scanning the trees and bushes behind them.

  “Come on.” He took Priscilla’s hand and led her to a spot behind a small bush, where they were well hidden in the dark but had an excellent view of the door of the cabin.

  “We are going to hide and ambush Mapes when he comes to change the watch?” Priscilla asked.

  “Yes. It seemed unlikely that we could get Will to lead us to the correct spot or, if he did, not to make too much noise and give us away. Plus, his feet would be untied, and I would have him on my hands, as well as Mapes. This way is easier, though I’m afraid it will leave your papa in worry a little longer.”

  Priscilla quirked an eyebrow. “Papa noticed I was gone?”

  “I brought it to his attention,” John admitted apologetically. “I’m sorry. I am sure he would have realized soon.”

  “Mm-hmm… When he couldn’t find something, or when Miss P. pointed it out to him.” She shrugged. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter. I know Papa better than anyone else. He is a kind and loving man, but not the sort you want to have with you in a bad spot.”

  She did not add that John was precisely the sort of man she would want to have with her in such a situation. She sneaked a sideways glance at him. He was watching the area around the cabin steadily, relaxed, but with his eyes never ceasing to roam in front of the cabin and off to the shadows on either side. He felt her watching him and turned to look at her. He raised an eyebrow quizzically.

  “Did you mean any of what you said back there…to Will?” she asked.

  “What? Oh…to make him talk?” He chuckled. “No. I have never met an Indian in my life, much less lived with them. Nor have I ever tortured anyone. Or, at least, I don’t think I have. It’s very strange, not knowing yours
elf. But those things I talked about—I felt that I was making them up, not talking about something I actually knew.”

  Priscilla let out a little sigh of relief.

  “I thought you realized that. I thought you were going along with me.”

  “I was. I did. When you started talking about the Indians and all, I thought surely, if you had remembered things like that, you would have told me. But…at first…well, I wasn’t quite certain. You sounded so cold and hard, as if you were capable of anything.”

  “I felt cold and hard. After all, the man had abducted you. I had been stumbling through the dark for hours, praying that you were all right and that I was going the right way. Then, when I found you locked in that little dark place and thought about you being in there, scared and alone—” His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed as he remembered the emotion that had swept him. “I was in a rage. I was determined to make him talk, to find out what was going on. To stop those two before they could actually harm you.”

  “Oh, John…” Priscilla breathed, stirred by the fierceness of his anger and his fear for her.

  He smiled a little at her and reached out with one arm to pull her close. He bent his head to hers, murmuring, “I don’t know what I would have done if I had not found you. Or if they had hurt you. When I was searching through the woods, I kept thinking about you—what they might have done to you. How you might be lying hurt, even dead, somewhere. It nearly drove me crazy with fear. If I had found you like that, then I might have killed him. I am not sure I would have been able to stop myself, or to even think.” He paused. “Thank God you were all right.”

  “Thank God you came after me.”

  “You knew I would.”

  Priscilla nodded. She had never doubted him, only whether he would be able to find his way there again at night. She leaned against him, enjoying the warmth of his arm around her and his hard chest against her shoulder. She had never felt this way before about any man—the surety, the passion, the completeness she felt when she was with him, the emptiness when he was gone. For some time now—ever since he had arrived, in fact—she had been fighting the feelings she had for him. She was not sure why she fought them, or why it was this one particular man who could bring them out in her. She did not know him at all in the way she knew everyone else in her life. But, she realized, she knew who he was in the most important sense.