by C. J. Archer
“Who you got there?” one of them called out.
“Got coin, pretty lady?” a woman asked. “Food?”
The warden ignored them. Lizzy quickened her pace to keep up with his long strides. They entered another building with a series of doors off a long corridor. He opened one and stepped inside. She peered around him and four sets of eyes immediately turned her way. One of them belonged to James.
His gaze skimmed her, looked away without recognition, then quickly snapped back. “Lizzy!” He rose and she was struck by how thin and pale he’d become. Small sores spotted his mouth and he had the same hollow-eyed look as the prisoners in the yard. A large bruise darkened his jaw.
“James.” She ran to him and gripped his arms. She pulled him into a tight embrace and she felt him relax, but just for a moment. Then he pushed her away.
“Don’t,” he said. “I stink.”
“I don’t care.” But she stepped back anyway. She didn’t want to embarrass him. James was always so fastidious.
“Call me if they look like they’ll eat you,” the warden said with a snort and left the door open since the prisoners could go out to the courtyard whenever they wanted.
She was alone with James and the other inmates. Two were little more than a collection of bones covered in skin. Their hungry eyes followed her every move. One of them licked cracked lips and elbowed the other in the ribs. The third prisoner was bigger. He stood up and she swallowed a gasp. Big didn’t begin to describe him. He was about as tall as Rafe but more massive in waist, legs, shoulders…everywhere! She’d seen ancient oaks with narrower trunks than him. He winked at her.
She edged closer to James.
“What have you done to your hair?” he asked her.
She touched the wig. “It’s my disguise.”
He grunted. “You and Rafe with your disguises. I don’t like it.”
“Our disguises or my wig?” She removed it and checked that her real hair was still bound on top of her head.
He lifted one shoulder and turned away. Four pallets lay end to end around the cell, but there was little else in the way of comfort for the prisoners. Some personal items, a pack of cards, and some dice. The room was rank with sweat and urine, and beneath that was an air of desperation and wretchedness ingrained in the very walls.
“Please sit,” James said with a mocking bow. “Come share my flea-riddled pallet with me.” He scratched his neck and plopped down on the pallet.
She knelt down next to him and offered a smile, which was wasted because he didn’t look at her. “Rafe came here yesterday,” she said, carefully not framing it as a question.
“I’m glad he came to his senses after he left.”
She waited but he didn’t elaborate. “What do you mean?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “He didn’t want to ask you to come here. When he told me about the murder and why he’d been in disguise, I told him he wasn’t to come anymore. It was too dangerous. I suggested you could come in his stead, but he didn’t like that idea.” His gaze flicked to the other prisoners. All three of them watched avidly. The big one was picking dirt out of his nails, the other two pretending to be playing cards. “It appears he changed his mind.”
“It would appear so.” She’d been angry at him a few moments before. Angry that he hadn’t told her about his predicament, that he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her. But upon seeing the horridness of the cell and the misery etched into every line on his face, her anger dissolved. Poor James. He looked so pathetic. Getting mad at him would only heap more misery on him, and she couldn’t do that.
“You should have told me in the first place,” she said gently. “I could have helped you.”
He gave a brittle laugh. “Could you? Lizzy, I know you have little coin and your troupe’s future is uncertain, and I know you would have tried to help anyway. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. We’re supposed to be betrothed. You should have trusted me.”
“Of course I trust you.” He looked at her like she was a fool.
“Then…why? Surely it’s not really about me offering you money.”
He sighed and leaned back against the wall, dark gray from centuries of grime. “Because…you’re so…so…good.”
“Pardon?”
“Perfect,” he added.
“I most certainly am not.” A perfect woman would not have kissed the brother of her intended. She felt her face heat and she glanced down at her hands to avoid his gaze.
“You are. You have a good job where everyone likes you. Your sisters and parents love you very much. You’re nice to everyone, you’ve always abided by your father’s wishes, and you’ve never done anything wrong in your life.”
She pulled a face. “I sound perfectly dull.”
The big prisoner grunted and said, “Aye.”
James didn’t tell him to be quiet. Rafe would have. “You’re not dull, you’re wonderful.” James sighed heavily. Not quite the reaction that naturally followed upon declaring her to be wonderful. “I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me,” he said. “That’s why I said nothing.”
“Why would I be ashamed of you? Did you do something to lose your apprenticeship?”
“No. Cuxcomb went out of business.” He waved a hand to encompass the small cell. “He was in here for a time, but his debt got paid by his sister’s husband, so he’s out now.”
“Then it’s not your fault and I don’t think any less of you.” She touched his shoulder. He shook her off. “James…please. How can I help?”
“Did you bring any food?” He eyed the apothecary’s package with hope.
“No.”
He sagged against the wall. “Money?”
She gave him the pouch, keeping a crown for herself to pay the warden on the way out. It was all the money she and Rafe had but at least Rafe was a good thief and could get more. James needed it far more than they did. He could use the funds to buy food, candles, and even water for bathing at the prison shop. “What is being done to pay off your debts?”
“What can be done?” He sighed again. “I’m in here, not earning a penny, and Rafe is hiding away because someone’s blaming him for a murder. Hopefully it’ll all be settled by the time he’s supposed to start work for Lord Liddicoat, otherwise…” He shook his head.
“How much are your debts?”
“A little over three pounds.”
“That much! That would take you six months to earn.”
“If I was still working.”
“Oh, James, I’m sorry. Father doesn’t have that kind of money.”
“I’m not asking him to pay it,” he snapped.
She lifted her brows and he looked away. He rubbed his arms as if he couldn’t get warm. “Blake might loan—”
“That only transfers the debt to a different creditor. I still wouldn’t be able to pay it. I am out of luck until Rafe can sort out his problem and start his new job.”
It seemed Rafe hadn’t told James that she too was being pursued, only himself. It also seemed that James didn’t understand how much trouble Rafe was in.
“You’re not concerned about him?” she asked.
He frowned at her. “Rafe? No, of course not. He’ll sort everything out. He always does. He’s very capable.”
“Very. But…”
“But what?”
She didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to think it, but she had to. For James’s sake. “What if something happens to both Rafe and me?” She stroked the long dark tresses of the wig. “What if neither he nor I can come here?”
“Something happen to the both of you? That would be an unlucky coincidence.”
“But still a possibility. James, no one will know you’re even in here. Do you realize that? Not a soul. You’ll be left to die in here alone. That money won’t last forever.” She nodded at the other prisoners. “Or do you think one of them will come to your aid?”
He wat
ched the two smaller prisoners playing cards in the corner. Neither had spoken since she’d entered, not to each other or to the big prisoner. Odd. Surely they’d want to at least comment on their game.
“I think you’re worrying unnecessarily,” he said. When she protested, he held up his hand. “But to ease your mind, I’ll allow you to inform your parents. Make sure your father understands I do not need anything from him. I am perfectly comfortable while you are visiting me.”
“But if I am not here to visit—”
“Stop saying that, Lizzy!”
She rocked back and blinked at him. He never spoke harshly to her, never raised his voice, and yet he’d done it on more than one occasion since her arrival. He must be far more agitated than he was letting on.
“Very well,” she said, stiffly.
He groaned and pulled his knees up. He put his head down and ran his hand through his greasy hair. Lizzy’s heart ached for him. He was so vulnerable, so unlike the happy boy she’d grown up with. She wanted to wrap her arms around his shoulders and hug him but she couldn’t be sure he’d let her.
“This is hopeless. I’m hopeless.”
“Enough of this,” she said. “Why not go into the yard? I saw some other prisoners outside on my way here and you could do with the fresh air and to stretch your legs. It doesn’t do you any good to sit in your cell all day and wallow in your misfortune.”
He lifted his head and screwed up his nose at her. “Wallow? You think I’m wallowing?”
“Yes,” she said boldly. “You have your life and your health. That’s more than many.”
He stood suddenly and paced the room, back and forth, like a chained bear in the baiting pit. It was pitiful. Worse than pitiful, it was worrying. James might be alive, but she was beginning to suspect he was losing his mind.
“You’re right, Lizzy,” he said, abruptly stopping in front of her. He pulled her to her feet, depositing the things in her lap onto the floor. “You’re always right, that’s why I…I…love you.”
Her heart plunged into her stomach. She suddenly felt heavy-limbed and sick. A strange reaction considering she loved him too. Of course she did. She always had. They were so perfect for each other.
So why couldn’t she say it back?
Because of that kiss with Rafe. When she’d been kissing him, she’d not felt even a hint of confusion. She’d known exactly what she wanted. She wanted Rafe. She’d hardly thought of James at all.
He clasped her hands in his. “We will be wed when I have some money. I promise you. I’ll not leave you waiting forever. A woman like you must be cherished. A man can go far with you as his wife. I can go far.” He kissed her on the mouth. It was dry and chaste. “Don’t forget me in here. You won’t, will you? Lizzy?”
She squeezed his hands. “Of course not. But I have to leave. I’ve been gone too long.” She called for the warden to escort her out and glanced over her shoulder. The three prisoners watched her as intently as they had upon her arrival. James waved. She waved back and hurried away.
Rafe returned to the house after his third search of the area to find Lizzy sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of ale in hand and an empty trencher in front of her. He paused in the doorway and gave her the sort of glare he reserved for someone who’d wronged him. She merely lifted her eyebrows, not at all concerned.
“Where have you been?” he growled. “I’ve looked everywhere for you! Why weren’t you here waiting for me?” He sounded like a shrewish wife. So be it. Lizzy needed to know how dangerous it was to leave in the middle of the day without him.
“Not much fun, is it?” she said, rising.
“What?” He came inside and flung the beard on the table.
“Waiting for someone to come home when danger is everywhere outside.” She dipped a cloth into a pot of water warming over the fire and wiped her trencher and cup. Didn’t she notice how angry he was? Didn’t she care that he’d felt sick when he returned to find her gone not once but three times?
His jaw hurt. He unclenched it. Tried to be calm. It didn’t work. “This is not the same thing. I can take care of myself.”
“It most certainly is the same thing.”
He sighed, but it came out more like a long, frustrated grunt. “Lizzy. Do not do that again. Understand? Never leave here without my permission.”
She turned to face him, her eyes narrowed as she fixed him with a glare that equaled his in ferocity. She was not the timid Lizzy he’d left behind. Something had changed. He was glad she was no longer afraid of him, but that didn’t soothe his ire.
“I am not your woman, Rafe. Not your wife, sister, daughter, or niece, so do not speak to me in that manner. Ever.” She stepped closer to him and shook the cloth in his face.
Right. So she was angry at him. He understood that. Interesting how anger made her body tremble and her breasts jiggle above the tight bodice.
He tore his gaze away and concentrated on her face. “Very well,” he said. Not his woman. No, of course she wasn’t. She was James’s. “I can see that you were worried when I didn’t return yesterday. Shall we call a truce?” He looked down at her breasts again despite his resolve not to and his cock stirred. She had a luscious body. All soft curves and—
“Look at my eyes, Rafe. I haven’t finished yet.”
His gaze swept up. Not his woman. Christ. “Haven’t finished what?” Ah, yes, worry. She’d been worried about him too. He smiled. He couldn’t help it.
“Stop smiling. This is important!”
He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. It stopped the smiling. He apologized and nodded for her to go on.
“I followed you to the Marshalsea.”
“You did what!” he bellowed.
She gave him a defiant look. “You should have told me where you were going and I wouldn’t have needed to follow. You should have told me about James.”
He stared at her. His mouth fell open and he shut it again with a snap. “That was…” Resourceful. “…a foolish thing to do! Bloody hell, Lizzy, Treece’s men are everywhere. What if one of them had seen you? What if something had happened to you?” He strode off, came back to her, shook his finger, and almost told her she was to remain in the house forever but stopped himself. Perhaps it was a little extreme, and perhaps he should have told her where he was going in the first place. Besides, shouting at her might snap her out of the new ease she’d developed around him.
She folded her arms beneath her breasts, which only pushed them up more. He groaned. Was she trying to deliberately distract him? He forced his gaze up. Concentrate.
“I was at the Marshalsea an hour ago at least,” he said. “I came straight home. Where have you been since then?”
“Visiting James, of course.”
He choked on his expletive. “You went inside? Alone? Lizzy!” He scrubbed a hand over his chin. He should have told her. Should have taken her himself so he could protect her. “Did anything happen? There’s a big prisoner in the cell with him. Did he…?” He swallowed. “Is he still there?”
“Rafe, don’t worry. I am unhurt, see?” She held out her arms. Naturally his gaze slipped to her breasts. “But I’m so angry with you for not telling me.”
“You’re angry with me? You’re angry with me? Ha!”
Her eyes darkened and he braced himself. He’d never seen her like this before, like a small intense storm ready to burst. “Yes, I am. You should have told me. James is alone in there and extremely vulnerable. What happens if you and I…” She gulped. “What happens to him if something happens to us? Have you told anyone where he is?”
“No. He didn’t want me to.”
“He is my friend,” she went on. “My very dear friend.” She looked away and he wondered if tears welled in her eyes but then she met his gaze once more and they were dry, but softer. The anger had disappeared, replaced by something else. Worry, yes, but other emotions too that he couldn’t place. “Are you aware that he’s going mad in there?”
“What do you mean? He seemed perfectly well when I saw him yesterday.”
“He’s not today. He’s agitated and distressed. I think he’s desperate to get out.”
Rafe sat down on the bench and lowered his head into his hands. “I should have stayed in London to take care of him these past years.”
She sat next to him and sighed. “He certainly needs a steadying influence in his life. I see that now.” She spoke quietly, as if talking to herself, convincing herself of something. It unnerved him.
“What is it, Lizzy?”
She seemed to make up her mind about something and turned to him. Her eyes were clouded, her gaze unfocused. “He needs me,” she said, her voice empty of emotion. “I hadn’t realized how much until now. His mind is fragile. He’s not like us.”
Rafe wanted to touch her cheek and hold her face in his hands so he could look at her. Really look at her. Because he knew now that he’d been wrong too. Wrong about her. She wasn’t delicate. She never had been. Shy, yes, but not weak. She was strong and capable. The fact she’d conquered her shyness in most situations was a testament to how capable.
But he could not touch her or hold her. She wasn’t his.
“He certainly needs someone,” he said carefully. “It doesn’t have to be you.” He hadn’t known how much he meant it until he said it. The thought of Lizzy wedded to James wasn’t right. His brother was a good man but he was no match for her in spirit. In many ways he was still a boy, whereas she was very much a woman. “I’ll take care of him. Or we can do it together.” You don’t have to marry him.
She shook her head. “No, Rafe. He’s my responsibility. We have an understanding. We always have.”
“So?” He couldn’t believe he was about to say this. James was his brother. But he had to. Needed to. “An understanding can be easily set aside.”
She turned her face away. “I can’t do that to him. He doesn’t deserve it.” Her voice was flat, devoid of feeling, and her shoulders stooped.
He wanted to hold them gently, hold her, tell her to forget about her obligation to James and think about herself for once. “Tell me, Lizzy.” He came up behind her but didn’t touch her. Her hair curled at the nape of her neck, around her ears, small swirls of fine silk against creamy skin. He touched one curl and released it, watched it spring back up. She drew in a sharp breath and her shoulders tensed as if bracing herself. “What do you feel?” he whispered. He reached around and laid one hand on her left breast. It filled his palm so perfectly. “What do you feel in here?”
