by Lois Greiman
“You’re not from Portshaven.”
She drew a careful breath. “No. I am not. In fact…” She glanced nervously behind her. “My name is not Linnet.”
The smile again, as bright as summer lightning. “You lied?” he said in mock astonishment.
She swallowed and raised her chin. “And I have no brother.”
“Oh?”
“’Tis a complex story and I fear…not easily believed.”
“I might believe anything from lips as lovely as yours. But here…” He motioned to a nearby phaeton, then set his walking stick against the polished vehicle and opened the narrow door. “You’re still shivering. Get in out of the wind and tell me your tale.”
She stepped up with some misgivings, but it felt lovely to sit on the upholstered seat, to leave the rush of the wind behind. He followed her inside and pulled the door shut after them. Retrieving the promised redingote from the seat beside her, he wrapped the fitted coat about her shoulders, pulled it close around her neck, then settled back on the seat, watching her in the darkness.
She couldn’t think of where to begin, how much to say, what words to use.
“Let me guess,” he said, “you’ve lost your money and you need a bit of coin to feed your ailing granny.”
“No!”
He drew back slightly at the force of her answer, and she managed to relax a mite.
“No.” She searched for words. “It is imperative that I return to my homeland.”
He smiled and, leaning closer, took her hand in his. “Imperative?”
“Yes.” She nodded numbly. “If you can assist me, there will be a great reward for you.”
He laughed and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “What kind of reward?”
“Money.” She scowled at him as he moved closer. “My people will pay you whatever you like.”
“Don’t tell me you’re wealthy and beautiful.”
She lowered her eyes to her lap. Never had she had to beg. It was difficult, burning her soul. “But I fear I cannot pay you in advance.”
He brushed her hair away from her face. “And what kind of assistance do you require, my bonny lass?”
She drew a careful breath and listened, though she wasn’t sure what she listened for. But all she heard was the sound of the wind and the distant roar of the crowd. “I need to return to Sedonia.”
“Sedonia?” His surprise was evident.
“Yes. And it must be soon.”
“Ahh.” He nodded as if he suddenly understood. “In a bit of trouble here in Portshaven are you?”
She crunched her hands to fists in her lap and forced herself to think clearly. “Will you help me?”
“Well…” He scowled as he exhaled through his mouth. “Sedonia is quite a voyage. It would be expensive.”
“As I said—”
“The reward. I know. But I would have to pay the fee with no guarantee—”
“You would have my word.”
“Aye,” he said, and smiled as he stroked her cheek. “And spoken from such luscious lips. But I am not a wealthy man, and—”
“You will be,” she vowed. She was close now. So close to returning home that she could feel the excitement like wine in her veins. “If you but get me to Sedonia, I will see that you are rewarded well beyond your dreams.”
He scowled as if considering, then shook his head. “Maybe if I had some kind of payment in advance.”
Fear swamped her. She was too close to fail now. But she raised her chin. “If you do my bidding, you will not regret it,” she said. “But I have nothing to give you immediately.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, love,” he said, and, wrapping an arm around her back, pressed her down against the cushioned seat and kissed her.
She knew then. Knew she had been duped. Knew she had been a fool.
“Relax,” he crooned. “If you’re good, I will make certain the authorities don’t find you.”
She wanted to scream, to buck madly against him, but she did not. Instead, she remained very still, quieting her terror, closing her eyes.
He stroked her cheek and she shivered.
“Eager little sprite aren’t you,” he breathed.
“Yes.” She opened her eyes with an effort. “But I must not do this. Not here.”
He skimmed his knuckles down her throat. She gritted her teeth, but kept her lips closed lest he guess her true feelings.
“And why not here?” he asked.
“You were right.” She skimmed her gaze to the right, as if she could see through the narrow door to the night beyond. “I must not be caught here.”
“What was it, lass? Thievery or something worse?”
She pried her teeth open and licked her lips. He watched the movement of her tongue.
“There is an inn not far from here,” she said.
“But I’m happy here.”
She forced a smile. Perhaps it was suggestive. Perhaps it was ghoulish. “You will be happier there, my lord, I promise you.”
It was his turn to smile. “What can we do there that we can’t do here?”
She glanced through her lashes at him. “If you don’t know, my lord, someone has been negligent in your education.”
He stared at her for a moment, his mouth open, and then he laughed. But he eased off her in the same instant. “Very well,” he said. “I shall fetch my driver.”
She could barely breathe for the hope that swamped her. But she dare not falter now. “Hurry,” she whispered and licked her lips again, but slowly this time.
“Jesus!” he rasped, and, stumbling from the carriage, rushed away.
Chapter 13
T atiana waited to the count of five, then slid across the seat. Her hands shook like windswept leaves, but she steadied them on the doorframe and forced herself to get out of the carriage.
Someone stood there, inches away, looming in the darkness.
Tatiana gasped, but before the sound was loosed a palm was slapped across her mouth, stifling the sound.
“Hush!” Eyes gleamed white and round in the darkness. Gem’s eyes. “You want ’im ta ’ear you?”
Tatiana’s heart slammed hard against her ribs. She let her eyes fall closed, remembering to breathe, and shook her head. Gem eased her hand away.
“Did you get the goods already?”
“What?” Tatiana’s voice sounded shaky, pressed out on a gasp of quick breath.
“I was just about to pinch the other fella, then ’e turns around sudden-like and looks me straight in the eye. ’Boutpeed in my knickers. And all the while you was targeting another bloke.”
Tatiana steadied her knees.
“What’s ’e got then? Any ready coin?”
Tatiana shook her head, but reality remained vague, blurry, as if she were living in a strange half dream. She glanced to the right. “He’s coming back. He’ll be right back.”
Gem scowled as if confused by her demeanor, then brightened. “Ahh, of course. A bloke like that…’e ain’t gonna ’ave ’is cash on ’is person. Too easy to pinch it. It’s ’idden in ’is carriage.”
Tatiana tried to respond, but the girl was already scrambling inside. Scratching noises issued from the interior, but in a few moments, she poked her head from the carriage. “I can’t find nothin’…’ceptin’ this,” she said, and bringing her hand forward, displayed a shiny, silver-plated pistol. “We’ll be eatin’ good this time tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!”
Gem shrugged. “Less’n you know a better fence than Hobbs.”
Tatiana’s stomach twisted up hard. The man had meant to rape her, had pretended to befriend her, had betrayed her trust. He owed her a meal—at least. “There’s no money?” She felt desperate. Hungry and defiled and beaten.
Gem shook her head. “’E probably spent it all on the fights,” she said, but in that instant, Tatiana noticed his walking stick. It leaned against the rain-slick carriage, gleaming dully in a tattered shaft of moonlight.
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Lifting it in one hand, Tatiana examined it for an instant, then set her fingers to the brass knob. It unscrewed creakily beneath her fingers
“Balls!” Gem hissed as Tatiana drew out a chunky roll of bills.
It was like holding lightning in your hand. Like possessing magic. Like grasping life itself.
Tatiana raised her gaze to Gem’s. They smiled in unison.
“Blimey,” said the girl, handing over the gun and taking the paper notes reverently between her grimy fingers. “I guess we’ll be eatin’ well for breakfast.”
They ate like queens. Fresh barley bread still hot from the baker’s stone oven, newly churned butter, and clover honey fresh from the comb.
When they returned to Ned’s, they found her gone. They slept most of that day, then visited the market again.
Gem turned out to be an excellent cook, and by the time Aunt Ned returned, stew bubbled alongside an onion pie.
The old woman paused in the doorway, seeming to sway slightly. Gem rose to her feet.
“It’s a gift,” she said. “From Megs.”
The old woman’s eyes were filled with longing, but she straightened her back and spoke slowly. “Was it honestly gained?”
“Like I says afore,” Gem said, glancing quickly at Tatiana and away, “Megs’s rich as God.”
Ned’s faded gaze turned toward Tatiana.
“I am indeed wealthy,” Tatiana said. “And I wanted a chance to repay you for your kindness to me.”
Whether Ned believed her or simply wanted to believe her, was impossible to determine. But something like relief flooded the old woman’s face, and in a moment they were seated around the table.
The fare was simple, the crockery chipped, and their chairs nothing more than old crates and battered wine casks. But never in all her pampered life had Tatiana enjoyed a feast more.
“Mr. Banks, said I…” Ned’s voice was regal and smooth as she told her tale. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes seemed brighter. Tatiana had caused it. Through her own hard efforts, she had bettered another’s life. “Marry me and you marry my poor friends as well.”
“And what’d the old gaffer say?” Gem asked.
“He said yes of course,” Ned said with a sweep of her hand to indicate their abode. “Thus my luxurious lifestyle of today.”
For reasons unknown, it struck them as funny. Soon they were bent over their abused plates, laughing like witches gone mad.
“Aye,” Gem said between gasps, “I am the queen of England, you know.”
“And—” Ned began, but she paused and her eyes grew wide. “Dear God. Remain calm. Please—” she began, but in that instant the door burst open. It crashed against the wall and shivered on one hinge.
Burr stepped inside, and behind him came his laird.
Tatiana snatched the pistol from beneath her skirts and pointed at MacTavish with trembling hands. But his men were already fanning out, weapons drawn. One glance toward her companions told Tatiana that Gem had grabbed a knife from the table and stood with her back to Ned, her eyes wild and her arms flung sideways as if she were prepared to take on the laird and his entire army.
MacTavish pulled his gaze from the two other women to pin it on Tatiana. Silence settled like toxic fumes into the house.
Tatiana’s hands shook on the pistol.
“Put that down before you hurt someone,” MacTavish ordered.
She shook her head frantically. “I fully intend to hurt someone unless you get out and leave us in peace.”
“Peace.” He said the word softly, but his eyes belied his tone. “’Tis a fine word for you to be spouting, lassie, when I haven’t had a moment of it since the day I laid eyes on you.”
“Get out.” Her voice trembled. She swallowed hard and waved the gun. It was small and solid, but if truth be told, she wasn’t entirely sure how to fire the thing. She could feel sweat moisten her upper lip. “I haven’t done anything against you, MacTavish.”
Reaching up slowly, MacTavish rubbed a spot on the back of his head. He winced as he did so. “Nothing, Megs?”
She steadied her arms. It didn’t seem like the tiny weapon should be heavy. Who could have known that holding off the laird of the isle and his guards would be such tiring work? “Even you cannot blame a maid for defending her honor.”
Perhaps his men’s eyes widened a little at her words, but if they were shocked, they said nothing.
MacTavish smiled, and in that moment hot memories stormed into Tatiana’s mind. The thought of his hands on her skin, his voice in her ear. “Even if a maid like you had honor,” he began softly, and took a step toward her, “she would surely find a better way to convince me of her innocence than to brain me while in the throes of—”
“Stop!” she commanded, louder than she’d meant to. “Stay where you are.” The gun wobbled wildly. “Or so help me God, I will shoot you where you stand.”
“You owe me, Megs,” he said.
“I owe you nothing.” Her voice was hissed and low.
His smile lifted a mite. Satan had a gift. “Think again, lass.”
“I did not take your brooch.”
He shrugged and took another step toward her. “Maybe not. But at the least you owe me a prisoner.”
She opened her mouth to object, but he raised a hand to shush her. “Fair is fair, Megs. You appeared. Wheaton disappeared. But…” He glanced toward the women by the table. Gem’s eyes were as wide as Swedish oysters. Ned looked as if she were supporting herself by sheer strength of will. “If I take these two miscreants, perhaps we could call it even.”
Tatiana’s stomach twisted. “They’ve got nothing to do with this.”
“Nothing? So it was you who struck me on the back of the head while we were about to—”
“Silence!” Tatiana ordered, and MacTavish smiled again.
“I think the girl already knows what we were up to, lass.”
She glanced toward Gem.
“Burr worked like hell to figure out a way to make her escape from Pikeshead seem like an accident,” MacTavish said. “I knew she’d try to free you. Though I admit my timing was a bit off.”
Hot memories flooded in again, but she shoved them rudely out of her mind.
“Go away, MacTavish. Get out before it’s too late.”
“You’re going to shoot me?”
“Yes.” The word only bobbled a little. The movement of the gun was a bit more aggressive.
“You just might,” he admitted. “But not before my men fire their weapons.”
“You’d still be dead.”
“Do you know how to work that thing?” he asked, and stepped toward her.
She cocked back the hammer. “I am learning fast,” she assured him.
He smiled. “I bet you are. But you can’t take us all down. You’re outmanned.”
“I only have to shoot you.”
“And they only have to shoot you,” he countered.
She narrowed her eyes and aimed directly at his heart. Damn him to hell then.
Some emotion crossed his face. It almost looked like the shadow of admiration, but it was gone in an instant. “Or they could shoot them,” he said, nodding toward the women.
She felt the blood drain from her face. “You can’t harm them.” Her voice was no more than a whisper.
“I’m Laird MacTavish,” he argued. “The pirate bastard.”
“Ned is nobility,” Tatiana said. She herself didn’t believe it was true, but everything was unbelievable just now.
MacTavish nodded once. “Lady Nedra, Baroness of Lark, accused of witchcraft some years ago I believe.”
It was true?
“There is a harsh punishment for witchcraft,” he said, “not to mention the girl’s fate.”
Tatiana darted her gaze across the table. Gem had risked her life to save Tatiana. True, she had mistaken her for another, but the debt was still owed.
“She’s a known thief, Megs, and the citizens of Teleere are tired o
f thievery.”
Tatiana winced, remembering the stench of the gallows. The dead man’s purple tongue.
“I wouldn’t need a reason to execute her, but I’d have one.”
“You’re a bastard,” she said.
“It’s common knowledge,” he agreed, and shrugged. “The choice is yours, Megs. You or them.”
“If I…” It was impossible to breathe, to force out the words. “If I come with you…” Her head felt light and her arms strangely heavy. “Will you let them go?”
His eyes were sharp and fragmented, like shards of broken glass. The devil through a stained-glass window. “I’ll consider it.”
She raised the gun. “And I’ll consider blowing your nose off your face.”
The corner of his lips lifted a quarter of an inch. “I’ve seen you fight in the past, Megs.” He shook his head once and took another step toward her. “It was not a fearsome thing.”
She gritted her teeth and tightened her hands. They hurt like hell from her death grip on the weapon. “I didn’t have a pistol then.”
“Are you sure it’s loaded?”
She refused to blanch, to look at the gun, to let him shake her, but her soul quivered. She didn’t even know what it should be loaded with.
“Do you care to find out?” she asked.
His smile was full-blown this time, and from that single expression, she was pretty sure he would. “I guess I’ll know soon enough.”
“Don’t come any closer.”
“You’re outmanned, Megs.”
“And you’re outwomaned.”
“True enough,” he said, and lunged.
The gun exploded like a cannon in her ear. Her back crashed against the floor. Air ripped from her lungs. Gem screamed. Ned gasped, men yelled, and footsteps thundered.
When the haze cleared and the roar in her ears subsided, Tatiana realized that MacTavish was lying half under her. The pistol was gone. With one hand he’d immobilized her wrist. His other arm was bent, tight as an iron band around her back.
“I’ll say one thing, lass.” His voice was low. “You know how to keep life interesting.”
Chapter 14
M en rushed up, Peters at the forefront. “My liege, are you well?” His freckled face was so pale even his lips seemed to disappear.
