Devil May Care

by Unknown

  The room had grown eerily quiet. Dory would have glanced up to see if a guillotine was about to slam down on her, slicing her in two, but she didn’t dare shift her glance from Henry.

  “Just like in Eden, the deadliest assassin to all mankind was a lovely woman.”

  A woman? Really! Dory knew her scripture and she knew the world, more than she’d like to know. And every deadly blow she’d ever seen, every malicious murder and soul-killing trickery she’d ever encountered, had come from a man.

  “I believe it was a serpent,” Dory said and Henry stabbed the knife into the fruit, blood-red juice sliding down his fingers.

  Henry opened his mouth but before he could speak Ewan started in.

  “I believe ye are right about the traitor in yer court,” he said.

  “You visited two known pirates today at the tower,” Henry stated. The man’s nostrils flared and his upper lip curled upward.

  “Aye, we did,” Ewan said and Dory tried to breathe with normal ease. “We needed to visit the man who witnessed the last words of Katharine Wellington, Dory’s mother.”

  Everyone stared and James Wellington stepped closer.

  Henry raised his chin and leveled a severe look at Ewan. “And how would this pirate know?”

  “Because he raised my wife after her mother died at sea giving birth to her.”

  “Nay!” Wellington said. “The pirate must have killed Katharine, stolen Rebecca.”

  “No,” Dory said. “Captain Bartholomew Wyatt is an honorable man! He would never kill a woman. My mother died of fever after my birth.”

  “If he was so honorable,” Wellington said. “Why didn’t he return you to your family?”

  “My mother begged him to protect me at sea until I came of age.”

  Wellington snorted. “God’s teeth, woman! Why would she do that? My sister loved her family and would have wanted you, if you even really are my niece, to be returned to her life in England.”

  Ewan slid his thumb over Dory’s silver locket. “There is no doubt, between the locket and her appearance, that Pandora Wyatt Brody is Rebecca Wellington, Katharine’s child.”

  Henry rubbed his forehead. “And this is why you two tried to free this Captain Bart and his crew member?”

  “We were not trying to free them,” Ewan said. “We were questioning them.”

  “Although they should be freed,” Dory added but Ewan squeezed her arm.

  “The letters point to a third traitor,” Ewan said as if to bring them back to the important matter.

  Henry gave an impatient nod. “Are you saying that Kat in the letters was Katharine Wellington? That she was as traitorous as Rowland Boswell?”

  Dory’s stomach dropped and lightning shot outside causing several ladies to gasp. “No,” she said.

  “Aye,” Ewan said at the same time.

  “Nay!” yelled Wellington. “This is an outrage!”

  Ewan held up a hand. “Aye, but I think she was tricked. Either that or she, too, was risking her life to save ye and yer daughter, yer majesty.”

  Henry shook his head. “You talk in riddles.”

  Dory held her breath and her stomach with her hand. It couldn’t be—both her father and mother, traitors? What did that make her? Worse than a bastard.

  “Katharine Wellington was at sea when she went into labor,” Ewan said.

  “She was crossing the channel to Calais,” Wellington supplied, though he still looked ready to draw a sword. “She left my brother. John was devastated.”

  “Captain Wyatt offered Katharine Wellington safe passage when he saw she was with child, but then she went into labor while at sea,” Ewan said. “She begged him to take her daughter once she knew she was dying.”

  Dory nodded. “This is the story I’ve always been told.”

  “Why would she do that?” Henry asked.

  “Which is why I think she was not a traitor like those letters make her look,” Ewan continued. “Someone wanted her dead. I think she knew and escaped England to have her babe in safety, but when she realized she wasn’t going to survive, she asked the captain to keep her child safe because she feared for her.”

  “So her mother was frightened of the third conspirator listed in the letters?” Henry asked.

  Ewan nodded slowly. “The man is never revealed, but Katharine had contact with him.”

  “I demand to see these letters,” Wellington said.

  Henry patted the air as if to settle him down. “My scribe is penning exact copies.”

  He looked between Dory and Ewan. “So there was a third traitor, one who never was caught and never acted.”

  “Does that make him a traitor if he never acted?” Cromwell asked from Henry’s right.

  Henry leveled a piercing look on the man. “If anyone even whispered a prayer for me not to have an heir, he is a traitor. You have your son, Lord Cromwell,” Henry spat. “I want mine.”

  “And I believe he did act,” Ewan said slowly, catching Henry’s eye. “How many babes did Mary’s mother lose?”

  Dory held her breath. It was risky bringing up Henry’s first wife, who he had cast off for Queen Anne.

  “Six,” Henry said, his eyes hard. “The letters say that the traitor was to prevent more heirs.” He slammed his meaty fist down on the table and stood. “I want him found!” He leaned forward to stare at Ewan. “Did this pirate see him?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t get a chance to ask.”

  Dory’s mind whirled over all the details. Ewan must have been working out all of them in his head beforehand. Why hadn’t he mentioned them to her? Did he think she couldn’t handle it? After all, this involved her family, both by blood and by circumstance. And no matter what other intrigues caught the king’s attention, she still needed to get the only family that mattered out of the Tower. If Ewan wasn’t going to share his information with her, then she didn’t have to share her plans with him.

  “If you release Will and Captain Wyatt from the Tower, you will be able to question them,” she said.

  “I can question them in the Tower,” Henry retorted, making a wave of nausea swamp her at the implication. Questioning in the Tower usually meant torture.

  “But they can’t get any evidence that might be on the ship from there,” Dory pointed out. “And…” She grabbed Ewan’s clenched fist and pulled it against her leg. “Ewan and I will work with them to bring in your traitor and prove my mother was trying to protect your majesty and your daughter.”

  Dory felt the rapid rise of Ewan’s already fierce heartbeat and she squeezed his hand. He just had to agree to this. It was her best chance of freeing her father and Will. And he owed her some help after keeping all this information about her mother a secret. The man had carried the letters and never shared them!

  A stilted silence stretched as the people in the room watched the minute twitches in the king’s statuesque features. Dory’s chest burned and she inhaled slowly even though her throat felt too narrow for much to squeeze through.

  Ewan’s hand hovered momentarily over the wooden table. Plink! A thick ring dropped to where her hat had been. It rolled toward Henry, who caught it in his fist. The king’s hard eyes focused on Ewan, as if absolute hatred could shoot out and pierce him.

  “This is yours?” Henry asked, his lips lifted in a snarl.

  What the devil was Ewan doing? She’d almost convinced Henry to let them go.

  Ewan shook his head. “It was on Boswell when he died.”

  As if opening slowly to prevent something terrible from entering the world, Henry’s fingers uncurled to reveal the gold ring. The sight of it made her think of the one that her mother had left with Captain Bart, though she’d yet to see it.

  Everyone around him leaned in, but since Dory was near the front she saw the engraving clearly. A rose stood prominent on top with two smaller ones on the thick band. The rose looked slightly different from the proper two-toned Tudor rose.

  Henry looked from it to Ewan again. “He
held a Lancaster ring?”

  “Makes one wonder if Boswell or his other contact were planning to wear it on the throne of England,” Ewan said.

  Gasps and whispers stretched down the hall and Henry’s fist hit the table once more. His pudgy face turned scarlet. “Neither the House of Lancaster nor the House of York will take my throne while I still breathe.”

  Ewan’s words were low, but carried like a bolt of lightning. “I fear that is the point, yer majesty.”

  “Cromwell!” Henry yelled even though his advisor stood next to him.

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  “Have Captain Wyatt—”

  “And Will Wyatt,” Dory added.

  Henry waved his hand in the air as if swatting a fly. “And the other pirate. Have them cleaned up and brought here for questioning.” His small dark eyes sent daggers toward Ewan. The king was probably furious that he couldn’t just execute him and be done with it. But Ewan had very concretely encouraged the monarch’s paranoia to a point that he must have answers.

  “Bring them here to help these two find my traitor.” Henry looked very pointedly at Ewan. “Else the Brodys will take the traitor’s place on Tower Hill.”

  …

  Ewan leaned against the stone wall that matched the rough stone floor. “You’ll leave before dawn tomorrow, Searc.”

  Searc looked up from where he honed the blade of his sword with a rock. “Not without you and the lass.”

  “I’m quite certain that Rachel would be throwing a sack over your stubborn head right now and carrying you back to Scotland if she were here. ’Tis too dangerous.”

  “My ma isn’t here,” Searc countered, “and I’m not abandoning the lass to you.”

  “Bloody hell. To me?”

  A small grin played on Searc’s mouth and he shrugged. “Lady Meg told me not to let you steal an English lass’s heart. I have to stay.” The tabby cat stretched along Searc’s bed and purred loudly as if to emphasize the point that they weren’t leaving.

  Ewan snorted but frowned, thinking of all the trouble she fell into. “Ridiculous excuse. Dory is very capable of protecting herself.”

  But she certainly seemed to be able to handle herself around him. Nay, her heart was not in jeopardy like the other lasses he’d encountered, with their sweet smiles and soft hearts. She was so far removed from the ordinary woman, it was like comparing sheep to Gaoth. Aye, the lass was a fighter.

  “If things get more dangerous, you are going home even if I have to knock you out and tie you to your horse.” Ewan pushed off the wall with his boot and strode out the door.

  His room with Dory was down the long corridor that spanned the perimeter of Hampton Court. Would she still be asleep? It was early. Would the bar be in place as it should? Doubtful. He stopped before the door and listened.

  Voices? Voices!

  The door swung in without any obstruction. A man stood before the fire, naked from the waist up, his back to Ewan. For a split second he thought he was in the wrong room until the man bent to kiss a head of tangled, gold-shot curls standing before him.

  Ewan’s blade sang as he slid it from its scabbard, ready to draw death. His warrior’s blood thrummed through his ears, narrowing his focus on his enemy. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Ewan?” Dory’s voice came from behind the giant.

  Ewan strode across the room, the point of his blade extended, even with the man’s jugular.

  Dory leapt between them. “Stop! It’s Will and the captain.” She flapped her hand toward the bed where the older man from the tower cell sat. He gave a brief nod, but didn’t rise to defend his son—crew member—or whatever the half-naked bastard was.

  Ewan’s gaze took in Dory’s white sleeping gown, the thin material barely concealing the dark circles around her nipples. Will yanked her behind him as if Ewan was a threat to her. How dare he even touch her.

  “Stop pushing me around,” Dory huffed and jumped back around the pirate. “Ewan, put down your sword. Will, step down.”

  When neither of them moved, Dory huffed again. “Captain Bart? A little help here.”

  “This is as much fun as watching Will dance swords with O’Neil,” the old man said.

  Ewan saw the pirate captain stand from the corner of his eye.

  “The guards brought them an hour ago. They almost wouldn’t leave them without you being here to protect me,” Dory said.

  “They bloody hell shouldn’t have,” Ewan said, never breaking eye contact with the shirtless man. “And why doesn’t he have a blasted shirt?”

  Dory pointed to a pile of rags in the corner. “Soiled beyond repair. I’ve sent Tilly in search of something that will fit them.”

  It was rare that a man equaled the brawn of a Highlander, but Will Wyatt did. And Ewan wasn’t about to let him continue to parade it around Dory. Never mind they’d grown up together, and the bloody man had dressed and undressed her.

  Ewan’s teeth ground together but he forced himself to walk to the press where he’d left his satchel. He yanked out a clean shirt. “He’ll fit in mine.”

  “Not likely,” Will said, his accent as mixed as Dory’s.

  Dory rolled her eyes and took the shirt from Ewan. “Thank you.” Her eyes met his for a breath. There was so much in them that he couldn’t read. Mysteries, secrets… lies? Her lips came together and those gray orbs flashed a silent plea for patience before she turned.

  Ewan watched her dress Will as if he couldn’t do it himself. And Will let her! In fact he smirked at Ewan over Dory’s head as she tied the front. The old man just chuckled. Dory turned and sent a silent “thank you” to him.

  She wouldn’t be thanking him if she knew how close he was to making sure her Will never got the wrong idea about her attentions again. Didn’t she say she couldn’t heal a limb that had been cut clean off?

  Despite his ego, Will fit into Ewan’s shirt. Captain Bart moved to the press and pulled out a simple gown.

  “They will calm down faster if you put something on, Pandora,” he said in a low, stern voice that offered no alternatives.

  Dory took the heavy skirt and bodice behind the dressing screen, her cheeks as pink as a startling sunset. From the bumps and curses coming from it, she was hurrying into the costume.

  “I’ll help,” Will said and took one step toward the screen. Without conscious thought, Ewan stepped before him, blocking his path.

  “If she needs help,” Ewan said with deadly pitch, “I will help her.”

  “Who the hell are you,” Will turned, his lips in a snarl, “to be helping her?”

  “I’m her husband,” Ewan flipped back.

  “By the devil’s bitch’s teet!” Dory yelled.

  “That’s my Panda,” Captain Bart said and chuckled.

  “You are not her husband,” Will insisted.

  Had he actually said that? Said she was his wife, as in tied to him forever? He cleared his throat. “To all concerned at court, I am.”

  Dory stepped out from behind the curtain with another colorful curse that made her father smile. But Ewan’s focus was on her. Dory’s hair tumbled wildly around her slim shoulders. Unattached sleeves of blue velvet pooled around her wrists. Her bodice looked loose, undone down the back, but the skirts and her trim waist still made her a vision of beauty. Before he could reach her, Dory turned her back to Captain Bart, who gave a curse of his own, but commenced to tighten her stays while she worked on her sleeves.

  Will came closer and stared at Dory. “So, you two have been playing married. Does that mean you’re swiving him?”

  Ewan stopped, waiting for her to slap Will or stab him or something. Jonet back home would scream to the heavens if anyone spoke like that to her. The word didn’t seem to shock Dory at all. Instead, Dory’s glare turned into a leisurely smile, much like a cat licking cream from its whiskers. “Perhaps I am.”

  The fist came around so fast that Ewan reacted completely on instinct. He caught Will’s force with his forearm, red
irecting it past him so the man’s momentum made him fall forward where Ewan’s knee caught him in the breadbox on the way down. Will grunted and hit the stone floor.

  “Where I come from,” Ewan said to the pile on the floor. “Ye don’t ask a lady something like that.”

  “And where I come from,” Captain Bart said, catching Ewan’s attention with another blade, this one in the old man’s hand. “I don’t let anyone touch my Pandora.”

  “Apparently ye don’t know about Will’s behavior,” Ewan countered without taking his eyes off the knife. The man might be old, but he was a pirate and a leader. No doubt the man could bury the blade in his heart.

  Captain Bart’s eyes flashed with fury as he turned his gaze on Will.

  The man cursed as he rose from the floor, a knee bleeding through a cut in his trews. “You had to tell him about that.”

  “He didn’t think I could defend myself,” Dory said and shook her head. “Now look, you’re bleeding. I can mend the cut, but I’m not sewing the trews.”

  Captain Bart still held the knife, but it wavered between Ewan and Will. “What the bloody hell did you try with my little Panda?”

  “Nothing, Papa. He just tried to kiss me.”

  Ewan snorted, which earned a sharp hush-or-else look from her.

  “I let him know I wasn’t interested,” she finished and crossed her arms. The act made her breasts pop up over the stays so that they were almost falling out of the gown.

  “By God,” Captain Bart said, his hold on his patience completely lost, “did he buy you that low cut dress? I don’t care how rich it looks, it’s still not proper. You are no whore, Pandora Wyatt.”

  She dropped her arms and turned a scarlet shade. “The dress was a gift.”

  “Not from me,” Ewan finished. He didn’t like the low neckline, either. All three men glared at her, but she didn’t wilt. In true Dory fashion, the lass’s chin rose higher. He could see her curse building within her mind. Pirates seemed to take great pride in their foul speeches.

  “The three of you… overstuffed with asinine pride,” she started slowly, her voice growing, dripping with contempt. “May your—”