"Thank you for saying so," Isabeau murmured. "Oops -- sorry," she said apologetically as a branch slapped against his coat sleeve, dappling the material with drops of water.
Treat bit his lip, but said nothing as he carefully brushed the drops away. "I like coming here to talk with you Isabeau, you don't put on airs. In fact, I have mentioned your name to Mother."
That sounded ominous.
"Mother would like to meet you. I thought perhaps --" he never finished the thought, for Isabeau accidently handed him a small bundle of roses, thorny stems first. He automatically grabbed them, then gave a howl, which he immediately stifled.
"I'm really sorry," she exclaimed, "I'm usually not so clumsy. Here, I'll go inside and get something to wipe the blood."
"No, that's fine. I believe it has stopped bleeding already. Now, as I was saying I would like you to meet Mother. A mother's approval is very important, don't you agree, Isabeau?"
Vaguely, Isabeau nodded, her thoughts bordering on desperation. Spotting a patch of mud, she determinedly made her way toward it.
"I would like to speak to Hawk, Isabeau, since you have no male relative close by, about keeping company with you."
Isabeau stopped and drew a shallow breath into her lungs. "I don't think that's a good idea, Treat. You see, I will be very busy while I am visiting --"
"Hawk has been rather busy. I can see he does not pay you proper attention. He also has a fiancée, which I am sure you are aware." Treat coughed delicately, then determinedly went on, "and the truth is, he's always rather liked the ladies, if you guess my meaning."
Delicately lifting the hem of her gown, Isabeau then proceeded to trounce through the puddle, knowing her slippers would be ruined, but feeling it was worth the effort.
"Oh, look," Treat stopped her with a dismayed look at her slippers.
"It doesn't matter." Isabeau smilingly waved away his concern, sloshing through the rest of the mud to cut another flower, her toes curling. "Hawk has lots of money to buy me more. Why, he bought me an entire wardrobe on the way here. Mine were lost in transit, you know.
"So Treat," she turned from him and walked toward the maze, "you don't really care for the outdoors? Myself, I love to be outside. Why, I'm out until all hours of the night, and as early as four in the morning. Some women, you know, don't like to be dirty, their hands, clothes, whatever -- why, it doesn't bother me one little bit.
"I can't bear to be inside on any day, even when it rains. Have you ever walked in a rain storm, with thunder and lightning all around you?"
"No," he admitted slowly, "I'd hate the wet rain down my neck."
Isabeau stepped back. "Oops." She lifted her muddy slipper from the top of his shoe. "Oh, I'm so sorry, now you're all covered in mud. Here," she bent down. "Let me wipe that."
She flicked ineffectively at the mud on his shoe with her hand, managing to smear it even more before he could get out of her reach.
"That's all right, really," he protested, looking with dismay at his shoe. "I must be going, anyway. I know you have many things to do, as do I. Give my regards to your cousin and Hawk. Perhaps I'll see you sometime next week," he added hastily, literally shoving the basket at her. He tipped his hat and made a quick exit.
"Not if I see you first," she muttered, wiping the mud from her hands on the grass.
"You'll discourage the boy if you keep on like that," a voice mused from behind her.
Isabeau put down the basket and shears and turned to find Malry behind her. Hands on her hips, she said smartly, "I certainly hope so."
Malry laughed.
Gingerly, she lifted the skirt of her dress to eye the sodden mess of her slipper shoes.
"Looks like they're ruined," Malry remarked blandly.
"It was well worth it." Isabeau kicked them off and proceeded to gather the remainder of the flowers she would need.
Malry left, shaking his head -- no doubt thinking she was crazy.
Isabeau sank down on a stone seat, then she laughed, throwing back her head and lifting her arms toward the sky.
Maybe . . . just maybe, she was crazy. If she was, it felt just fine.
She closed her eyes and just as quickly a wave of weariness crept over her. She'd never felt so tired. Fear crept in, weighing her down, crowding to the forefront of her mind. They hadn't found out anything new in the time that they'd been back at Hawk's Den.
Time. It was running out. May 19 was getting closer all the while.
Since their return to Hawk's Den, there hadn't been any more 'accidents.' Not, she conceded, that that meant anything. She hoped it wasn't the calm before the storm.
#
Pierce signaled the okay for Malry to follow him, and as the other man skirted the field, Pierce carefully made his way down toward the water. Shielding his lantern light, he ducked into a rock crevice and to all appearances seemed to disappear from Malry's sight.
Malry followed, then ducked into the same cave entrance. Matters had escalated in the last day. The stakes were higher, and the time had arrived to stop the thieves at their game. Malry relished the call to adventure. Finally, they were making a move. They'd draw out the murderer by hurting him where he would feel it the most. In his pocket.
"I don't know why I didn't think to check the caves before this," Malry said with a grimace.
Pierce stood upright in the hollowed out cavern as it opened to a wider area. Water lapped at the secret cavern below them. "I should have remembered these were here."
"Aye, we were too busy looking everywhere else to figure this out," Malry said. "Don't be too hard on yourself, lad. I've been at it longer even then you."
"I know," Pierce said. "And now let's get to it."
"The men are rowing in," Malry stated, looking at his timepiece with satisfaction. "Right on time." He traversed the cavern's damp ledge flooring and caught the edge of the first rowboat. "Men, let's start moving these crates -- quick and quiet you go." He smiled with delight. "Let's make the removal as easy as possible."
Pierce, Malry and a handful of men loaded the crates as the boats entered the cavern by twos. It wasn't large enough to accommodate any more than that, so it took them a bit of time to load everything up. Once the bulk of the crates had been removed, all that remained were water marks on the floor where the contraband had been neatly stacked. As the last rowboat moved to the cave mouth which eventually led to the river, Pierce stared around the now-empty cavern with satisfaction.
"We should quit this place before someone shows up," Malry cautioned.
Pierce indicated the lone crate that remained on the stone ledge.
Malry grinned as he carefully lit a cigar. "Out of eighty crates, we should leave him something." He puffed on the cigar. "It's enough to make a grown man cry, it is."
Pierce smiled. "I'm going up to the Manor."
Malry gave him a narrowed glance. "Is that wise?"
"It's time Treat and I were face to face."
"I'll go with you. He's got more tricks up his sleeves than a card dealer."
"No, let me finish this. It's become very personal."
"All right, just don't let him get the drop on you. I'll ride into the next town to bring the sheriff. I'll also be bringing a special package back with me. It's time all this came to an end."
Pierce raised a brow. "Hawk?"
"Aye." Malry walked out into the open air, gave a quick look and then motioned to Pierce. He put a hand on Pierce's arm. "Lad, we don't know what will happen when I bring Hawk back, but if you're gone, know that all your hard work was for a good cause."
"If he hadn't been protected, I would cease to exist," Pierce said simply.
Malry grimaced. "I'm off."
Pierce watched Malry disappear into the line of trees, knowing his horse would be waiting. Now to catch Treat at his own game, he thought grimly. The time had come for the unmasking.
Pierce spun on his heel and walked across the lawn toward the house. As he entered the back yard of the house, he
sensed he was being watched. He stopped and saw Treat walk around the side of the house.
"Hawk. I'm sorry it has come to this," Treat said. He motioned with one arm and two men with rifles also appeared.
"Treat."
"You never could mind your own business, even when we were children." Treat pulled a pistol from under his jacket and pointed it at Pierce. He indicated Pierce should move ahead of him.
"I know what you've been doing," Pierce said. "I went to the cave."
Treat laughed. "I have a perfect right to a side business if I choose."
"Not when it involves stealing from the family shipping business."
"Hawk, you have no idea what I'm involved in." Pierce detected the note of desperation.
"You'll find a surprise waiting for you when you go to the cave," Pierce remarked.
Treat grabbed his arm. "What have you done?" He turned to one of the armed men. "Go check the cave. Hurry, you fool!" the man turned and ran across the lawn toward the river.
"Don't worry, your stolen contraband is safe."
"Why do you always have to ruin everything?" Treat said angrily, waving the pistol.
"Why, Treat? Money is deposited every month in your account. Why steal from the business? Why try to kill me?" he demanded.
"Hawk, you always had everything. Our father's attention, the estates, the money, everything. I'm taking back what I should have had all along. With you out of the picture, I'll prove my parentage, and I will have what I deserve."
Treat prodded him in the back with the pistol.
The sound of running feet announced the arrival of the man who'd gone to check the cave.
"There's one crate in there. Nothing else," he said quickly, huffing and puffing.
"You just signed your death warrant," Treat snarled.
"You've got the wrong man, you know," Pierce said. "I'm not Hawk. In fact, Malry is bringing Hawk back as we speak, along with the authorities."
"Do you think me an idiot?" Treat said, "Your games will not work. Now be quiet."
"You remarked yourself that I haven't been myself since the attack down by the offices."
"We'll probably never know who was behind that," Treat said. "I'm sorry I didn't think of it."
"Why lie about it?" Pierce asked. "There's no one else who wants to harm me."
"Apparently there is, but it wasn't me."
"It does not matter. When Hawk arrives he will know everything."
"Enough."
They entered a small clearing in which stood a cottage.
"Inside," Treat said.
Pierce stepped over the threshold. He turned back to Treat, but felt instead a blow to the back of his head.
"Put him on the bed," Treat snapped. "We have to find that cargo." The door slammed.
Chapter Nineteen
Isabeau grew suspicious when no one in the household had seen Malry or Pierce for the better part of the day. She went to find Maize and Belva.
She found Maize in the wash building out back along with the housemaids.
"I really think something's going on with Malry and Hawk. I'm worried that no one has seen them all day."
"It's that Mr. Treat," Maize blurted.
"What do you know?"
"Merely that that is the direction the two of them have been looking."
Isabeau wondered why she hadn't been told that.
"They seem to be missing -- doesn't that make you a bit worried?"
"I have faith in the two of them. They'll know what to do."
"Do you think they're at Sanderly Manor? All these accidents and attempted murder, people sneaking about in the night has me totally stressed. Worried," she clarified. "It's obvious whoever's behind all this will stop at nothing to harm Hawk. We should get the law involved. If we can't trust the sheriff in this town, maybe I should ride to the next town."
Maize looked suitably worried. "Well, it's too late for you to leave now, it's almost dusk. It's not safe on the road this time of night and it's over an hour's ride."
"I have to take that risk."
Belva hurried across the yard. "Something terrible is about to happen, I can feel it." Belva began to cry, her thin shoulders shaking. "It's terrible. I saw it -- shots fired and I saw men falling. I am so afraid for Hawk. I'm afraid they've foolishly stepped into the line of fire."
"Do you know where he is?" Isabeau asked urgently, dread a hard pit in her stomach.
Belva closed her eyes, swaying back and forth. "It's dark and it's a sickly sweet scent that turns my stomach. It adds to the unsettled feeling I have."
Isabeau froze, thinking of Sanderly Manor, recalling a sickly sweet smell. She put a hand over her mouth, a deep heaviness pressing on her chest.
"Treat," she said. "It's Treat." She turned to Maize. "Where are the pants I wore when I first arrived?"
Maize pointed to a neat pile of clothes on top of a wicker hamper. "We saved them just in case. Why do you need them?"
Isabeau unfastened her skirt, quickly let it drop to her feet and pulled on her jeans, fingers fumbling with the zipper. "I need something to tie my hair back."
Maize handed her a leather thong and Isabeau pulled back the length of her hair and secured it. "Where are you going?" Maize cried as she hurried back outside after her.
"To ride for the sheriff. I'll make him listen."
She wove her way through the garden and to the stables, a pain beginning in her chest and then settling in her back. Angrily, she wiped away the moisture gathering in her eyes. She had to stay focused. Pierce's life depended on it.
Isabeau erupted into the stables. She halted, trying to calm herself. She would do herself no good if she didn't calm down. The mare would sense her distress and likely they'd both be hurt. There was no time for a saddle. With a halter, she mounted the mare from the mounting block and hurried into the quickly falling night.
#
But Isabeau rode to Sanderly Manor instead of to the sheriff. Everything inside her was screaming to go there. She and Pierce had come so far in this strange time, she could not lose him now. She didn't dwell on the consequences if she failed.
Isabeau pulled the halter and rope from the horse and gave her a light slap on her hindquarters, hoping the mare would return to the stables at Hawk's Den. She cut through the woods and walked the last quarter of a mile to Sanderly Manor. The house appeared deathly still as she skirted it. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she saw armed men walking the perimeter of the grounds. Keeping to the shadows, she made her way around to the back of the house. Maybe she could find a way inside and see if Malry and Pierce were actually here. She couldn't imagine that anyone could get the best of the both of them at once.
"Did you hear something?" the rough voice was too close for her comfort. She moved backward slowly and kept moving until she was close to the tree line once again. Isabeau kept the two men patrolling in sight. She picked up the scent of the pigs before she reached their pen. The men on patrol walked in her direction. As noiselessly as possible, she crawled over the top board and knelt in the pen. Using one hand, she quickly pushed away the pig that came too close with his snout. The men continued past the pen. Watching them through the slats she waited until they rounded the side of the house before she quickly climbed from the pen. Shivering, she hurried toward the house.
Crouching down, she carefully pried rotted wood from a small window at ground level. Ducking down, she was suddenly yanked backwards. Landing with force on her backside Isabeau could see the gleam of a rifle barrel in her face.
"Move and I'll blow your head off. What do you think you're about?"
A second figure joined them. "Come on, let's go. Another one for Mr. Treat. Bring him along. It's been a busy night."
She didn't speak in case she gave away that she was a woman and not a boy in her jeans. The heavy dusk aided her at this point. They prodded her along an uneven rocky path into thick woods. The night grew darker, the wooded area more concealing. Were they going to
kill her now?
They walked to a small clearing, a tiny cottage-like house at the center. She could barely make out its outline in the dark.
"Put him in with the other."
They booted open the cottage door and she was shoved forward, the momentum causing Isabeau to trip over the threshold and land on her knees.
"Don't even think about leaving. We'll shoot you if you come outside this door." They slammed the door and she heard booted feet retreat.
#
Isabeau crouched on the floor, hearing heavily labored breathing across the room. Carefully, she groped her way on hands and knees until she felt the post of a bed, then a leg.
Unmoving, booted feet.
"Pierce?" She breathed fearfully, certain in her heart who lay so still.
Gently, she shook his arm. "Pierce!"
A groan was the only response.
"Pierce! Wake up. Please, please, wake up. What have they done?" she muttered.
She groped around for a lantern, discovering instead a candle holder on the stand beside the bed. She kept feeling around and found a box with several wooden matches. Striving for calm, she struck a match and lit the candle stub. Quickly, she scanned the sparse room, seeing the blackened fireplace, a few smoldering coals barely glimmering in the hearth.
Cupping a hand protectively about the flame, Isabeau placed it in the brass holder and dropped the blackened globe in place.
Leaning over Pierce, she ran her fingers experimentally over his scalp. A splotch of dried blood was crusted just into his hairline and his breathing sounded alarmingly labored. She shook his shoulder but could not waken him. She touched his head, worried about the head injury. Not again.
Clutching at him, Isabeau lay her head on his chest, eyes burning dryly as she stared into the semi-darkness.
The fine lawn shirt beneath her cheek grew damp as her tears wet his shirt.
"Isabeau." Hard arms moved to encircle her. She drew a shaky breath, feeling queerly off balance.
She carefully ran her fingers over his warm brow and put her lips to his ear. "No matter what happens, know that I love you." Gently, she touched her lips to his. "I'll always love you."
Time Travel Romance Collection Page 25
