by Sarah Hegger
“I helped you escape from those churchmen.”
Newt made a small huff of irritation. He screwed his face up in thought. “I know where he is.”
“Where?” Elation coursed through her.
“Not far from where you were.” Newt parceled out the information like a miser counting coins.
“We must rescue him.” Garrett deserved everything that was coming to him, but she wasn’t going anywhere and leaving Garrett in Godfrey’s hands.
“You see,” Newt glared at her, aggrieved, “this is why I did not tell you. I knew you were going to say something stupid. The girl was right about you.” He sniffed. “You have a soft heart. It makes trouble for you.”
“I cannot help that, Newt.” Beatrice damned herself for a thrice-cursed fool. “It is my way.”
“I will help you rescue him. Then you and I are even.”
“Even.” When Garrett was safe, Beatrice would never set eyes on him again. He’d brought her to London and taken care of her. It didn’t mitigate against what he’d done to her heart or the virginity he’d taken from her, but there was no time to agonize about that now.
She followed Newt through the noisome alley outside his hole. She stretched her cramped back. Her knees ached and her hip throbbed from where she’d fallen.
Newt led the way again. She kept her eyes locked on his back.
He stopped suddenly.
“What?”
He gave her a cunning grin.
Beatrice braced herself for what was coming.
“If we are doing a rescue,” Newt rubbed his palms together, “we might need some help.”
Beatrice crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want?”
“I know something else. This thing will be very useful.”
“Name your price.” She needed to get to her father. She already spent time she didn’t have to rescue Garrett. He’d read Newt aright. She watched the conniving face in front of her.
“I do not have a price, yet.” He tapped the side of his sharp, little nose. “But I know something of great use. I know how to get help and if I give you that, you will owe me.”
“I cannot pay you if you do not have a price.”
“You will be in my debt.” Newt nodded. “I may one day have need of a lady with powerful connections.”
Beatrice was quite sure he would, some day when he found his neck in a noose. “I only owe you if you help me free Garrett and if you get me to my father. Now.”
“Done.” Newt hawked and spat and was off again.
* * * *
Beatrice blinked through the smoke filling the small tavern. Her eyes must be lying to her. For there sat Tom, looking pale, tired, and dishevelled. Right beside him Ivy kept a sharp eye on the people around her. Tom’s arms scythed through the air as he held forth.
Ivy paid him no mind.
“See,” said Newt.
Newt had led her to a small, modest inn.
“Aye, Newt, this was worth knowing.”
It had been a truly horrible night. Starting from the moment she’d woken to find Godfrey holding a sword to Garrett’s neck. Now, new hope flared. Tom and Ivy were here, in London. She wasn’t alone anymore. Newt didn’t count. He would aid her only so far as is suited himself.
“Them two arrived earlier,” Newt said.
“But the gates were closed.”
He winked. “Beer carts have a way of getting through closed gates. Especially with a city full up on soldiers.”
“How did you know?” Beatrice would have offered Newt her entire chest of jewels for this.
“Newt has eyes everywhere.”
Tom noticed her and stopped talking.
Beatrice walked straight at Tom.
His welcoming smile wavered and he opened his arms.
Beatrice was never gladder to see anyone in her entire life. She pressed her face into his shoulder. Tom was her constant, her rock, her one patch of solid ground in her teetering life.
“Hey, there.” Tom patted her back awkwardly. “Come now, Bea. Are you crying?”
Beatrice shook her head. She clung to the dear familiarity of his solid form.
“I told you we had to get to London,” he said over her head.
“Aye, you did,” Ivy replied.
“I knew there was something not right.”
“Aye, you did.”
“Her uncle wants her dead,” Newt chirped.
Tom went still in her embrace. “I thought we had seen the last of you.”
“Not me.” Newt swaggered over to the table and grabbed a slice of meat off Tom’s trencher. “I found her falling over a wall not too long ago.” He stuffed it into his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed.
“Beatrice?” Tom gripped her by the shoulders and put her far enough away from him to see her face. “Would you like to explain?”
“Not really.” Ivy handed her a handkerchief and Beatrice blew her nose. She didn’t know where to start.
“Where is Garrett?” Tom guided her onto the bench.
It was as good a place as any to start. They sat at the table Tom and Ivy had been sharing. Newt hovered about, snagging bits of food. The tavern around them was filled to the brim with farmer’s and their broods. Tom wouldn’t want to hear about her fall from grace, so she begun with Godfrey arriving in the warehouse and the conversation she’d overheard.
“I knew he was up to no good.” Tom snatched the bread out of Newt’s hand.
“Which one of them?” Beatrice laughed but there was no mirth behind it. Scoundrels were crawling out of the woodwork all about her.
“Garrett.” Tom slapped his hand on the table. A large, round-faced churl looked over at them curiously. Tom lowered his voice. “I could tell, just by looking at him, there was something not right there.”
Beatrice wished she could say the same. She’d remained in blissful ignorance right up until the end. Nay, that wasn’t quite right. There had been signs, hints along the way she’d chosen not to question further. She’d desperately wanted to believe his love for her was true.
Tom heaved a sigh. “But, Godfrey? Are you sure you heard right?”
“I could hardly mistake his meaning.”
“You have a strange family,” Ivy said.
And getting stranger. Beatrice choked back a laugh. “How is your wound?”
“Good.” Tom lifted his arm and rotated it at the shoulder. “It pulls a trifle but Ivy did a fine job with her needle. She talked our way into a barn and patched me right up. The wife took a shine to her and fed us, as well.”
“Newt said you arrived on the a beer cart.”
“That was Ivy’s doing as well.” Tom smiled at Ivy. “We had to leave old Badger at the farm, but we thought we could fetch him on the way home.”
Beatrice placed her hand over Ivy’s and gave it a light squeeze. She had taken good care of their Tom.
“Right.” Tom got to his feet and shoved the remains of their meal into his sack. “So, now we go to Westminster.”
Beatrice stood with him.
“I think not.” Ivy glanced at her from the corner of her eye.
Beatrice’s face heated.
“Of course we go to Westminster.” Tom tied the ends of his sack with a decisive twist. “Sir Arthur must be told all of this and before Godfrey can make more mischief.”
“Nay, Tom.” Ivy rose. “I think we first go to rescue Garrett.”
Beatrice was grateful to Ivy for saying it for her.
“What?” Tom’s eyes stood out on stalks. “We are not going to rescue the scoundrel. Let the bastard rot.” He looked first at Ivy, and then Beatrice.
Beatrice shook her head.
Tom threw his hands up. “You cannot tell me you are seriously thinking of rescuing him?” His face grew quite red. “He tried to seduce you, Beatrice.”
She barely kept the flinch from her face. Ivy’s knowing stare pressed
like a weight.
“He was going to use you to get revenge on your father. He and Godfrey deserve each other.” Tom waved his arms as he spoke.
Ivy touched him on the arm and Tom snapped his lips together.
Beatrice looked at Ivy in amazement. She needed to learn that trick from the other woman.
“I cannot leave him there,” Beatrice said.
“Aye, you can.” Tom stood, legs akimbo. “He got exactly what he deserved.”
“Do you mean you will not help me?”
“Aye.” Tom folded his arms over his chest. “I am standing firm. I should have days ago and we would not be in this mess, but it is not too late to begin now. I will not help you rescue that villain.”
Chapter 23
“It will never work,” Tom grumbled.
“Of course it will.” Beatrice peered around the corner at the shed where Newt said Garrett was being kept.
Two men guarded the door. Actually, the men appeared to be doing more drinking than guarding. The shorn one was the same man from the wool warehouse. The other was slimmer and younger, his hair a middle shade of brown, his features pinched. The shed nestled close to where Beatrice had been taken. It was agreed she should stay out of sight, in case one of the guards recognized her.
“It never fails.” Ivy calmly rearranged her clothing. She had already taken off the chainse and now undid the laces to her bliaut, so it gaped and revealed a large portion of her breasts.
Tom’s color was high. He studied the wall beside Ivy keenly. “I do not like it.”
Newt showed no such forbearance and studied Ivy’s neckline.
“You do not have to like it.” Ivy shook her hair free of her wimple. “All you have to do is club the second guard. I will lead one of them around this corner, and Beatrice will deal with him.”
“I still do not see why we are doing this.” Tom rubbed at his neck.
“I will explain it to you later.” Ivy patted his cheek. “Now, be ready. I do not want to deal with that man if you are not.”
* * * *
Garrett had been born fighting his way out of the womb, and he’d lived his life that way. Until now. The two louts at the door presented no challenge. He could have pried open one of the loose bars at the back of the shed, lured them inside, and brained them. An enterprising man could come up with any number of escapes.
Instead, he sat in the filthy shack and pined for Beatrice. Her face as her uncle gave her the truth haunted him. The knowledge he’d put that look there drove the dagger deeper. Godfrey’s plan for him would involve his demise. He simply knew too much now. Godfrey couldn’t afford to let him live.
Beatrice would be with her family. She would be safe with her father and brothers watching over her. Godfrey had played his game well. Her family were ignorant they harbored a snake in their midst.
What did Godfrey mean to do about Beatrice?
Garrett scraped his fingers through his hair. He got to his feet, but the hut was too small to pace and he shifted restlessly from side to side.
Outside, the guards talked to each other. They said nothing of Godfrey, so he gave up listening. These churls were hired muscle, nothing more. Not particularly costly muscle either, from what he could hear.
He wanted to go to Beatrice and explain, to assure her of his love for her. Garrett sat down and dropped his head in his hands. It would do no good anyway. She wasn’t for the likes of him. If he were any sort of man, he would have left her with her virtue intact. It only went to prove what a miserable, lowly sod he was.
Jesu, but she’d come to him sweetly with her heart in her beautiful eyes and her entire being on offer. He hadn’t been able to resist. Like Adam, he’d reached for one sweet taste of the forbidden.
She was better off without him. She would be angry, hurt even, but she would recover and find…
Nay, he was not going to think on Beatrice and another man.
What was Godfrey’s game? What had he said in the forge? They had a common enemy in Sir Arthur.
Jesu. His skin crawled. Godfrey coveted what his brother had. This had been played out since Cane and Abel. If Beatrice stood between Godfrey and his aims, she was no longer safe. The small hut closed in about him. His heart raced.
Jesu, he was a sapskull. So intent on his own misery his brain had shriveled.
The gates were still closed. Beatrice could not be with her family. Godfrey had her. Sweat broke out over his entire body.
He had to find her, just to assure himself she was well. She need never know he was there. And if she were in peril, his path was clear.
Beatrice. He’d been skulking here, not caring whether he lived or died now that he had lost the one good thing in his life. He prayed he was not too late.
One of the guards called out.
The man spoke to a whore. He exchanged a crude jest with his mate. It sounded as if the whore had offered the right incentive because one of them moved away from his post.
He surged to his feet. Only one guard remained at the door. He liked his chances. He pounded against the frame.
“Shut up in there,” the guard yelled back at him.
“I need a piss.”
“Piss in your braies, you stupid bastard.”
Garrett banged harder. There was a thump as the guard drove his fist against the door.
“How much are you being paid to keep me in here?”
“Listen, you—”
A dull thud and the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. The door rattled on its hinges and was ripped open.
Garrett leapt back and out of the way.
A tall figure stood limned by the torchlight.
“Just so you know,” Tom stepped inside, “this was not my idea.”
Garrett wanted to embrace him.
A meaty fist snapped his jaw shut and sent Garrett hurtling against the back wall of the hut. The wall creaked and listed. Garrett slid down the wall and waited for the ringing in his ears to subside. The boy threw an excellent punch.
Tom loomed over him, his hands bunched by his sides. “If it were up to me, you would rot and die for what you did to her.”
Garrett stayed where he was. Tom looked ready to hand out some more of the same.
“Tom?”
“Is Beatrice here?”
Tom turned and with a growl of disgust charged out of the hut, brushing past the figure in the doorway. “I am done.”
Garrett clambered to his feet. She was here and safe. His heart hammered, he battled to think over the clamor. There was so much he wanted to say to her, he needed to say to her, but the words wouldn’t form. He wanted to grab her and hold her to him. She’d rescued him. Beatrice had come to his aid. His chest ached with the knowledge. She believed the worst of him, and she hadn’t left him here to die.
“Are you going to stay in there?” She spoke at last.
“Beatrice.” He rushed after her and caught her arm.
Tom stood by, looking as grim as the grave.
“You should not have come. You have placed yourself in danger, again.” Jesu, he got more stupid by the minute. They were the first words that had broken clear of the confusion.
She turned to stare at him, aghast.
Garrett wanted to pound his own thick head into the ground. Of all the things he needed to say to her, he’d chosen to chastise her.
“I told her so.” Tom half raised his fist. “But she would not listen.”
Beatrice turned away from him. “You are free. Go where you will. I never want to see you again.”
She walked away from him. For one, stupid moment he’d hoped she might have remembered he’d told her he loved her. He shook his head at himself. Of course she wouldn’t remember that. He’d given her no reason to believe a word coming from his mouth.
“Are you going to stand there and let her go?” Ivy emerged beside him.
“I think it would be best.” Inside, claws r
aked through his innards. He’d often scoffed at idiots in love, walking about with their faces down to their knees. He understood now. It felt as if he were slowly being torn to shreds from within.
“Coward.” Ivy pinched his arm.
Garrett winced and yanked his arm out of her grasp.
“You owe her, and you know it. Now stop being such a babe and pay your debt. She goes to her father this night. It falls to you to see her safe.”
“She has Tom for that.”
Ivy made a rude noise. “Tom is as much an innocent on these streets as she is. Now stop standing there with your heart in your eyes and prove yourself worthy.”
Could he?
“You could start by telling her you love her.” Another sharp pinch from Ivy made him yelp.
Garrett put some distance between her fingers and his arm. “I have already told her.”
“With your braies on?” Ivy gave him a hard look.
Garrett’s dropped his chin onto his chest. The girl made an excellent point.
“I did not think so.” Ivy sauntered after Tom and Beatrice.
“Wait.” Garrett moved before the thought had fully formed.
“What do you want?” Tom was suddenly between him and Beatrice.
Beatrice’s face was cold, unreachable.
Garrett had put the ice there. It fell to him to take it away. Because, behind her mask, flickering in the back of her eyes, was the hurt his Beatrice was unable to conceal. “I swear before God, Tom, if you do not get out of my way, I will end you.”
“She does not want to speak with you.”
Tom was a brave idiot, Garrett would give him that much. “Then she can listen, but Tom, I am going to speak with Beatrice. If it kills both of us to do it.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Beatrice pushed between them. “I do not have time for this. I need to get to my father.”
“Good.” Garrett grabbed her firmly by the elbow. “I will talk as we move.”
“You are not coming with me.” Beatrice tried to pull her arm from him.
“Aye, Beatrice, I am.” She had him until he knew she was safe. She might not like it, but he was taking her to safety. “I said I would see you safe to your father, and I will do so.”
“Why do you care?” The words came in soft pants as he quickened their pace toward the docks.
