His Lady Spy (The Star Elite Series)

by King, Rebecca

  It was alright for Pie and Archie, they were busy talking to people over in the main building. They had things to keep them occupied – whatever they were doing. Neither man had seen fit to offer any kind of protection which, if she was honest, wasn’t necessary. They were in the most fortified building for miles around and she was about as safe on English shores as it was possible to get. But they seemed to have lost sight of the fact that she was a person. Not something they could stash in a cupboard, or in this case an almost empty house, until the next time they needed to take her out again. She needed to talk to people, fresh air to breathe, the sunshine on her face. Confining her in the house under orders not to leave was tantamount to locking her into one of the cells across the yard. She may as well be a prisoner, because she had just about as much freedom as they did. In fact, they had more freedom than she did because at least they got let out for exercises once a day. Portia hadn’t seen daylight since the day she arrived two days ago.

  Decision made, she defiantly snatched up her shawl off the bed and stalked across the room. If she had to break out of the prison Archie and Pie had left her in, then she would. After all, she wasn’t going far, and wouldn’t be long. Surely not even Pie or Archie could object to her looking at a few ribbons so close to the prison gates.

  She stepped out of the front door a few minutes later and took a deep, fortifying breath of the fresh breeze that teased her face. Taking another restorative breath erased any lingering doubts she may have had about her venture, and she closed the door behind her with a firm click. Stalking across to the main gate, she paused beside the guard’s room and waited.

  The guard jumped to his feet at the sight of her waiting, and doffed his cap almost nervously as he waited.

  “Please open the gate, I would like to leave for a few moments,” Portia declared firmly, her chin tilted defiantly. In reality she was terrified that the man was going to blow the highly polished whistle on his jacket and half of the turnkeys in the jail were going to come running. She could sense his indecision in the brief look he flicked at the main building behind her, but she refused to turn around. Lifting one haughty brow, she continued to look at him, her gaze steady and sure.

  “There is a stall holder I need to see who is only a few feet away on the other side of the gate. I will only be a few minutes and then I shall knock to be let back in,” Portia declared, nodding to the huge gate beside them.

  “I’ve been instructed not to let anyone in or out of here ma’am, unless they are scheduled to leave.” Although the man’s stare was hard, there was a slight ring of hesitation to his voice that warned Portia not to give in so easily. After all, Portia wasn’t a prisoner, she was a guest. He hadn’t been given orders to keep her inside, but he hadn’t been told to let her out when she wanted to go either.

  “As far as I am aware I am not a prisoner here, am I?”

  “No, miss.” The guard swallowed, wondering if she had just read his mind.

  “Then I should be able to come and go as I please, should I not?”

  “Well, yes miss, ordinarily you would, but this is a jail and we have been told to only open the gates when we are scheduled to receive new prisoners. Release day isn’t until Friday, so the gates have to remain shut until then.”

  “But you come and go,” Portia protested, scowling at the man before her. He wasn’t going to be persuaded as easily as she had hoped, and she glared in hatred at the huge gates beside them. “Is there a side gate I could use?”

  The guard shook his head. Once again he seemed hesitant.

  “But I only want to go and see the ribbon man in the market,” Portia wailed, her small fists curling into tight balls of fury. “I’m not a prisoner here, and won’t allow anyone to confine me as such. I demand you open the side gate for me to leave.” She almost stomped her foot but only just managed to restrain the urge, and instead watched as the man threw another cautionary look at the main building.

  “The ribbon man, you say?” The guard scowled at her, his face softening slightly at the desperation in her voice.

  “I’ll be gone all of two minutes. I only want to see what ribbons he has. I have got nothing to do in that house, nobody to talk to and nowhere to go. If I stay in there a moment longer, then I shall just go quietly mad.”

  The man’s lips twitched and he nodded once. “Orders are orders though, miss. I have been told not to let anyone in or out unless it is under Mr Butler’s orders. That means the side gates too.”

  “I am not a prisoner,” Portia gasped, glaring at him in disgust. “Take me to this Mr Butler, please,” she demanded, turning away and staring at the main building. “I demand to know why I am being confined against my wishes.”

  “Now then miss, don’t be upsetting yourself so,” the guard soothed, casting a frantic glance around the yard. “You can’t go into the main building, it isn’t the place for someone like you to be.”

  “Ha!” Portia snorted, lifting her skirts as though to head in that direction. In reality, she wasn’t going to be so stupid as to enter a jail full of convicts; that would be a step too far, even for her. But the turnkey didn’t know that. She sensed rather than saw him jerk in alarm and he scurried around to stand before her, blocking her path.

  “I’ll let you out, miss, but it has to be through the side gate, and you have to come straight back, mind,” the guard offered, hefting the huge iron ring of keys off his hip. “You have to use the side gate. Knock when you want to come back in.”

  Portia nodded, unable to speak. Her heart hammered in her throat, whether through jubilation or fear she couldn’t be sure, but now she had victory, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to go. It had seemed like a good idea a few minutes ago, but the memory of what had happened when she had ventured out only a couple of days before was still ripe in her memory and refused to be banished.

  The guard motioned for her to precede him around the side of the house toward a wooden gate half way down the wall. She didn’t see the frantic signal he gave someone standing in the building across the yard, or another guard run for the main building as fast as his feet could carry him.

  Once at the gate, the guard seemed to take an age to find the right key, fumbling through the huge ring, one after the other until she wondered if she was going to have to snatch it off him and open the wretched gate herself. Now that she had the scent of freedom, and had removed the obstacles, she was going to go through with her plan and that was that. She sighed impatiently and wondered if he was trying to buy some time. Glancing back at the main building she could see nothing untoward, and no sign of Pie or Archie. Huffing in disgust, she turned back to the guard and watched him slowly put the key into the lock. The gate swung silently open.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be waiting here, miss. Knock when you want to come back in, but miss?” the guard placed a hand on her arm to halt her progress toward freedom. “If you aren’t back in five minutes, I’m going to raise the alarm.”

  “Good enough,” Portia nodded briskly and disappeared toward the busy market street.

  Archie swore fluidly and watched Portia cross the yard toward the gate. He couldn’t believe that she was going to go against everything she had been told – again. Despite the warnings, the lectures, everything Pie and Archie had drummed into her over and over, she had still managed to talk the guard into letting her out.

  Although she wasn’t a prisoner, she was under protection and had to understand that meant she had to stay put. She wasn’t free to come and go as she pleased. They were trying to keep her safe.

  “Do you want me to go?” Pie asked, running a hand through his hair at the sight of Portia standing at the side gate, waiting to be let out.

  “I’m going. I’ll take her to my house rather than Applemore,” Archie sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. His temper was as close to breaking as it had ever been and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to throw her over his knee and paddle her backside, or leave her to her fate chosen by
the French.

  “She isn’t a prisoner, so you can hardly blame her for wanting to get out for a while.”

  “I know, but she was told not to go out for the time being. I don’t expect her to stay in the house for the next few months; it has just been a couple of days while we question the captives and wait for Hugo’s instruction. It’s not a lot to ask of her, is it?”

  “I’ll never understand women,” Pie declared flatly, shaking his head. “I’m going to head back to help Rupert. Good luck - if you can catch her.”

  Archie shook his head and shot Pie a dirty look, not sure if he would ever understand women either. He glanced out of the window and watched the guard fumble with his keys beside the gate. Lengthening his stride, he took off down the corridor, his mind racing with possibilities. Careering to a halt, he doubled back and re-entered Mr Butler’s office.

  “Forget something?” Pie asked ruefully, lifting his brows and studying Archie carefully.

  Archie turned toward Mr Butler. “I need a few supplies, and quickly.”

  “Of course,” Mr Butler replied, lunging out of his chair.

  Within minutes, Archie had exactly what he needed and, to the merriment of both Pie and Mr Butler, took off toward the gate.

  Portia stood on the main street and felt a wave of nervousness sweep through her. She had to sternly remind herself that she didn’t need to be jumping at shadows. Archie and Pie had both said that the Guards wouldn’t venture this close to the jail. But still, she stood out of the main flow of people and watched the busy throng on the street before her with a sense of trepidation that was so strong she instinctively wanted to spin around and head straight back toward safety.

  This was different to the small town of Headingly. The people seemed more hurried, walking with more determination, eating up the ground with long strides rather than ambling along using a steady gait. There were no calls of greeting and no smiles of welcome, yet the shouting and boasting of their wares seemed louder, more forceful. The hustle and bustle of this market was more purposeful and had a harder, more sinister, edge to it that was vaguely alarming. She began to wonder if her brief, defiant display of independence was such a good idea after all. Still, she refused to retreat now. To do so would mean going back to that house and spending the rest of the day by herself, counting the ticks of the clock or, even worse, incurring the wrath of Archie and Pie for having gone against their orders.

  Standing with her back to the outer wall of the jail held little comfort and, after a few minutes of studying the milling crowd, Portia ducked her head and crossed the short distance to the trader selling the ribbons. Although the ribbons were as pretty up close as they had looked from a distance, fluttering gaily in the gentle summer breeze, she still felt a strange sense of dissatisfaction. The feeling of something being missing – or someone – was so strong that she could physically taste it. Nothing seemed to hold as much interest when there wasn’t anyone to share it with. She suddenly missed Cecily more than ever, and wondered where she was; how she was doing. Archie had said he would try to find out what had happened to her, but it could take some time, especially if Jamie had sequestered them someplace safe. Although Portia could understand the need to simply vanish, it didn’t ease her fears for her younger sibling and she knew she wouldn’t really rest until she had definite news as to her wellbeing.

  Sighing despondently, Portia turned away from the stall and glanced down the road at the rest of the market stalls for a moment. She debated going for a wander but, given the number of people that were milling around, knew it was a danger that she wasn’t prepared to face. Anyone could be lurking in the crowds, ready to pounce, and she wouldn’t know about it until it was too late. Turning away with a shudder, she drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders and headed back toward the small alleyway and the jail’s side gate. She could only hope the guard had been true to his word and stayed on the other side of the gate to let her back in.

  She had only taken a couple of steps when a flurry of movement in the shadows at the far end of the small alleyway captured her attention. They were on her so swiftly that she barely had the chance to draw breath to scream when a hand slammed brutally over her mouth, stifling her cry and intake of air. Her eyes rounded at the figure in black that loomed over her, and she felt her limbs go weak with fear for one brief moment before the need to survive overtook her.

  Instinctively she began to struggle but it was a futile waste of energy. She was helpless to do anything as a long strip of cloth was tied over her mouth, cutting off her cries. The bindings on her wrist rendered her useless. The hard arms that swept around her, lifting her clear off the ground were merciless and swung her high into the air before she was slammed forcefully over a shoulder and carried deeper into the darkness of the alleyway. She wriggled and squirmed, kicked and fought against the bonds that held her, but watched dismay as the ground move by far too swiftly.

  Her thoughts turned frantically to Archie and Pie just on the other side of the wall, and she was suddenly so very sorry that she hadn’t heeded their warnings and remained inside the prison walls. If only she had some way of getting them to hear her. She turned her jaw this way and that in an effort to dislodge the band of cloth that had silenced her, but the tight knot at the back of her skull only dug in deeper until it was uncomfortably tight. She swallowed and felt the sharp sting of tears, feeling more sorry than ever for her stupidity. It wasn’t as if both Pie and Archie hadn’t warned her of the risks of leaving. Now she had been kidnapped, she was at the mercy of the man who was carrying her, and whatever associates he had working for him.

  By the time the man threw her over the back of a large, dark horse, she was feeling slightly sick. The hard saddle dug into her stomach as she was suspended far too high off the ground. Closing her eyes she wondered if she was going to lose the contents of her stomach despite the bindings in her mouth, and felt rather than saw her kidnapper drop into the saddle beside her. She wriggled and squirmed to find a more comfortable spot only for her eyes to snap wide with shock when her bottom was roughly slapped.

  “Stay still,” a dark voice snarled quietly.

  Portia wavered between shock, indignation and outrage at the audacious move. If it wasn’t for the gag, she would have given the wretch a piece of her mind. Tears forgotten, her temper surged and she began to plan all of the things she would say to him when he stopped the horse and allowed her to get down. Thinking of all the things she was going to say stopped her from being overwhelmed by the fear that threatened to swamp her. She was helpless to do anything but lie there at an uncomfortable angle and watch the ground pass by, knowing that with each passing step she was being taken further away from safety, and Archie.

  By the time they reached the edge of the town, Portia was definitely feeling sick. The gentle swaying of the horse was bearable at any other time, and would have been today, if she wasn’t lying on her stomach on an unforgiving saddle. The man’s knees were lodged into her ribs and did little to aid her breathing. If he didn’t stop and allow her to get off for a while, she would be dead by the time they reached their destination because she couldn’t breathe properly.

  She began to murmur and wriggle, hoping to capture his attention enough for him to stop the horse, screaming as much as the gag would allow when he merely thwacked her on the bottom again and told her to keep still.

  This time though, the need to take in a deep breath of fortifying air over-rode any lingering fear she had and she straightened her back in an attempt to look up at him. This only aided her downward motion off the horse and she felt herself begin to slide. The man tried to grab for her but she twisted and squirmed away, eager to get off the wretched animal for a few moments.

  She landed on the floor with a heavy thud and lay there for a moment, staring up at the dark grey clouds in the sky as she waited for the pain in her bruised shoulder and hip to ease. All she needed now was for it to start raining; that would certainly top her day off. She warred betwe
en sorrow for not listening to what she had been told, and anger at Archie for leaving her alone for so long in Mr Butler’s house. If she hadn’t been confined in such a way, she wouldn’t be in this mess now. Her stomach began to protest at the jostling it had been given and she began to wretch. Rolling over, she began to squirm against the bindings in a desperate attempt to free her mouth.

  Suddenly the gag over her mouth was gone, and her wrists were free, just in time to hold her upright as she lost the contents of her stomach. Several humiliating moments later, she flopped down onto the floor, trembling with a mixture of fear and revulsion. A flagon of water was shoved roughly under her nose, and she gratefully took a swallow, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the thought of the man watching her. She hated him, and wanted to lambast him for his rough treatment of her, yet didn’t want to give him any reason to tie her up again. If she ranted at him, he would undoubtedly put the gag back into her mouth. If she remained quiet, he might just forget all about it.

  She gasped when she was hauled to her feet, swept off the floor and this time, dumped unceremoniously onto a second horse. It happened so quickly that her stomach protested at the sudden movement and, for a brief moment, she wondered if she would be sick again. Instead she took a deep breath and ordered herself to keep calm. Carefully studying the surroundings she looked for anywhere she could raise the alarm. Someone who was passing who would at least notice her, but the streets were deserted. In stark contrast to the busy thoroughfare of the main street, there was nobody in sight on the narrow side road that seemed to stretch on for miles. None of the houses had any sign of life and, if there was anybody in residence, nobody bothered coming to the front door to see who was passing. Instead, her horse followed her kidnapper straight down the uneven street and out into a smaller road that took them directly into the hills.