by Pamela Cayne
Nessie’s breath caught once and she rolled her head to the side so she was directly facing Lady. Her eyes shone with tears and she again shook her head. Lady bit her hand to keep from crying out, from reaching up and opening the door, from shooting the man causing her Nessie so much pain.
“No,” Nessie said, her voice cracking and almost inaudible. “Go.”
“What’s the hag saying?” Mr. Adams asked, Nessie’s last words evidently more exciting than her murder.
“She’s begging.” Shade gazed on Nessie almost like a lover. “She’s saying ‘no, no.’”
Mr. Adams chuckled. “Got to give the old girl credit for spirit. Now, finish it up. We’ve still got to find Lady. See if Nesbitt was telling the truth when she said she might have left with that ponce Collins.”
Shade switched his grip from Nessie’s shoulder to her mouth, covering the lower half of her face easily. She couldn’t struggle anymore, so there was no risk of her using her arms. Shade pressed both hands down, shushing her gently as the last few spasms shook her body and death finally took her.
Lady watched as Shade pulled the blade free and wiped it on Nessie’s dress in a twisted mirror of what Jonathan had done earlier tonight. Shade stood and faced Mr. Adams, who hadn’t moved and was picking at his teeth with a pinkie finger.
“Let’s go to the docks, see if we can find the ship. If not, we’ll go to the Red Door and see if King or Collins is there.” Mr. Adams pushed himself to his feet and came down the final few stairs. He looked at Nessie and spit on her. “That’s better. Had a chunk of beef from dinner I couldn’t get out of my teeth. It was driving me almost as daft as the old bat here. Now they’re both gone.” He laughed.
Shade led Mr. Adams out of the house. Part of Lady’s mind listened to them leave and the carriage fade into the distance. She looked at her hand and was surprised to see the pistol still in it. She had gripped it so hard that the crosshatched design of the grip was branded into her palm. As Lady slowly got to her feet, she stuffed the gun in her skirt pocket, only because she didn’t know what else to do with it.
As her mind and spirit became blissfully more and more numb, she grabbed the two bags Nessie had prepared, and, after shoving the pocket door open with an elbow, set them down in the entry with the birdcage. She grabbed the small oil lamp Nessie used at night and unscrewed the lip, dropping it and the chimney to the floor. She poured the oil on the floor, the runner on the stairs, and threw the rest into the parlor.
She stopped beside Nessie for a second and stayed long enough to shut her friend’s eyes. She didn’t want to look longer because she didn’t want to remember her this way.
She struck a match from the caddy hanging on the wall, and threw the flame into the puddle of oil in front of the door. The fire breathed to life, and Lady grabbed her bags and the cage, and headed toward the kitchen.
As the blaze quickly grew, Lady left out the back door. She disappeared into the darkness with a covered birdcage, a loaded pistol and over three thousand pounds in jewels. Her days of whoring had just ended.
Chapter Thirty-One
Lady enjoyed Troon’s market day. The whole village came out and the sea-kissed winds that blew up the Scottish coast made everything clean and fresh, especially Lady.
Three months to the day after leaving London, Lady was learning to embrace how new and fresh she was. She had her chickens and goats, and was able to sell or trade eggs and milk. She was learning to make cheese and had discovered a talent for baking light and crusty bread. If Mr. Adams could see her now, he probably wouldn’t associate his sophisticated mistress with this farm woman wearing a simple braid and homespun dress. Lady found herself wondering if even King would recognize her. It had been a long time, and since she hadn’t seen King, she’d assumed he’d resumed his duties for Mr. Adams.
A woman was poking Lady’s arm, bringing her back to the present, and she found that she had inadvertently stopped to woolgather in front of one of the market booths. “I swear, Elizabeth, you’re a hundred miles away,” Meggie said, turning back to her cheeses.
Lady didn’t think she’d ever get used to being Mrs. Elizabeth Thornton, widow. She looked at Meggie and wondered what she’d say if she knew who Lady really was. Or had been before.
“I’m sorry, Meggie. I get lost in my thoughts.” Lady halfheartedly handled one of Meggie’s cheeses.
“Aw, it’s only natural, love.” Meggie was one of Lady’s neighbors and probably the closest thing to a friend right now. Nessie and Meggie would have fought like two wet cats in a burlap sack, but only because they both had such strong mothering instincts toward Lady. “Your poor husband recently died, no family, you had to move somewhere new. It’s only natural your mind and your heart is taking some time to catch up to the rest of you.”
“I know.” Lady smelled a round of goat cheese. “Each day is getting better, though.”
“And before you know it, a new man will catch your fancy and you’ll be woolgathering for different reasons.” Meggie gave a bawdy laugh Lady had heard a hundred times back at the Red Door.
“I’d like to apply for that position,” came a rough voice that ran up Lady’s spine one second ahead of a tingle of gooseflesh. She slowly turned and saw King. She was torn between wanting to run screaming in a cold fear, terrified he was here at Mr. Adams’s orders, and wanting to throw herself into the warmth and shelter of his arms. She looked him in the eye, and the yearning there confused her even more.
King’s gaze flickered over Meggie, whom Lady was sure was watching intently, and then came back to her face. The way he was looking at her, with such longing and tenderness, almost broke her.
“Dear God, I’ve missed you,” he said softly and Lady had to close her eyes for a few seconds, teetering on the edge of forgiving him anything. When she opened them again, she motioned to the far side of Meggie’s booth with a tilt of her head. Whatever he was here for, she had to get him out of here quickly.
“What are you doing? Why are you here?” she asked as soon as they were far enough away that they could talk quietly.
“For you,” he said simply. “We planned to escape, start over. I wanted to tell you I’m still willing. Let’s go—anywhere—and as long as it’s by your side, I’ll be there.”
“What happened? Finally tire of Jenny?” She sounded jealous, but she told herself it was anger at being duped. “Thought you could come back to your other blonde whore?”
“That’s not it and you know it.” King grabbed her hand and pulled it to his chest.
“Elizabeth, is everything all right?” Meggie asked loudly and Lady gave King a look of flat anger. He slowly released her and put a little more space between the two of them.
“I’m fine, Meggie.” Lady looked over her shoulder, trying for a bittersweet smile of sorts. “He was a friend of my husband’s. Just has some news for me.”
“Husband?” King asked in a whisper.
“Yes. Without Nessie I had to become a widow or else unscrupulous, wretched, evil men would be after me. But I can see now it didn’t work.”
“You’re closer than you know.” King rubbed a hand over his face and looked off into the market for a moment. He turned back to her and the sun struck him just right to cause the chips of gold in his eyes to flash. Lady had to clasp her hands together to keep from reaching up and tracing the curve of his eyebrow around to the ridge of his cheekbone, circling those eyes that always saw down to her deepest layer.
Her restraint was for nothing. King reached down and held her clasped hands within his. “I meant what I said. Say where and when, and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. But while you’re thinking about it, you have to do one thing for me.”
“What’s that?” Lady asked and cursed herself for caring.
“Listen to me.” She started to pull away from him, but he pu
lled her hands back toward him and leaned down even closer to her. “Please. We need to talk, somewhere a little more private.”
Lady looked at him, tried to see any measure of duplicity or meanness in his eyes, but she couldn’t. Aside from breaking her heart, King had never intentionally put her in harm’s way. She couldn’t see him starting now.
“There’s a little cove about a mile up the road. On the bluff overlooking it is a big slab of a rock. Meet me there tomorrow at noon.”
He nodded, then laid his head along hers, cheek to cheek. Lady’s eyes fluttered shut and in a whisper that rasped through every lonely corner of her body, King said, “I still love you. I will always love you.” Without looking at her, he pulled away and headed into the crowd of the market, leaving Lady weak in the knees and as confused as ever.
* * *
The next morning, King was at the bluff at ten, too anxious to wait any longer. He sat on the slab and looked out over the water, feeling jealous of this land that had gotten to keep Lady for three months.
It was going to be difficult trying to convince Lady of his innocence, that he’d done what he had to do to protect her, but he had to try. Lady’s skill at survival had hardened into a coat of armor and if he couldn’t pierce it, he needed to make sure she’d be safe when they parted. He’d wanted to run away with her yesterday, but she hadn’t been ready—that was obvious from the greeting he received. Time was running short, though. If she didn’t want to leave with him today, he’d have to make certain she left on her own. He loved her more than anything except keeping her safe and if he had to give her up to make certain she could keep living this life, he would.
“Hello, King.” He jumped at the sound of her voice, then twisted around and saw her standing several feet behind him, the wind through the grasses covering the sound of her approach. Without looking away, he climbed down from the rock and approached her. She looked serene, hands held together over a faded blue dress, the mended tear near the hem miles away from the frocks she used to wear. Her hair was gathered into a simple tail and if anything, looked lighter in color, as though she had been out in the sun too long. Her skin also showed exposure to the sun, not quite as dark as the dockworkers’, but much darker than any society lady of London would tolerate. But her eyes, her eyes were still the same. If he hadn’t been able to describe their color before, all he had to do was point to the water behind him, and any man with sight would know how brilliantly blue they were.
“Considering you had so much to say, you’re awfully quiet.” She shifted from one foot to the other. Her nerves, no matter how slight, gave him hope. If she was indifferent to him, she wouldn’t be fidgety. Nor two hours early.
“I just want to look at you.”
“Talk while you look. I have a great many things to do today.” She walked past him to the edge of the bluff, pointedly giving him her back. He followed after a moment, enjoying the sight of her profile. Wind blew wisps of hair away from her face and King could still catch the faint tang of lemons with the smoky spice of tea.
“I died that night,” he said and noted how quickly she turned toward him, looked him up and down. With an odd jerk to her head, she looked back over the water. “When I saw your house burning. The flames were spreading so fast I was only able to see in the window, saw a body on the floor, and for the few seconds I thought it was you, I died.”
“Nessie,” Lady said quietly.
“Nessie,” King repeated as softly. “She was buried proper-like, in a churchyard. I thought you should know.” He let the sea winds play over both of them for a time, letting her wipe away her tears without any comment from him.
“How did you know about the fire? When I left you, you were...” She trailed off, both of them knowing how she’d found him, neither necessarily wanting to hear it again, but King knew it had to be said.
As though preparing for it, he sat cross-legged in the grass. He plucked a stalk and ran it between his thumb and forefinger, repeating the motion twice before Lady sat beside him, her legs properly folded to the side and her body balanced by one arm braced on the ground.
“Collins drugged me.” He threw the grass into the wind. “When he got me out of the fight, he passed me a flask and I drank from it. It tasted odd, but he called it—”
“American bourbon,” Lady said. “It made you...fuzzy. So you couldn’t fight back.” She tore up a stalk of her own grass and picked at it. “He gave me some the night of Mr. Adams’s party.”
He glanced at her, but she was now focused on the horizon and didn’t look like she wanted to say anything more, so he looked away. “Yeah, American bourbon. Next thing I knew, I was waking up, Jenny naked beside me. My head felt like I’d been in ten fights, one after the other, just slow and mushy, but I swear, nothing happened.”
“How do you know?” Her tone was almost casual and King plucked another blade of grass. “I mean, you were drugged. I could tell you of a conversation we had and you have no way to dispute it. How do I know you didn’t do anything with Jenny?”
He ran the grass between his fingers four times, trying to think of the best answer, but he had none. “I guess I don’t. I didn’t feel like anything happened, there were no physical signs we did, but most of all, I think that even drugged, I couldn’t have done that. Not to you, not to us.” He dropped the grass and looked at her and this time she met his gaze head-on. The distance he saw in her eyes was frightening. They were like her eyes when she’d been on Mr. Adams’s arm at the fights—cool, aloof and as impersonal as a statue in somebody’s garden.
“Is there an us?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said firmly and turned so the rest of his body was facing her too. He wanted to pick up her hand, hold it between his and feel if it was rough as it looked, but the time wasn’t right. “There is an us, and I think you know that. Whatever happened to us before, it’s in the past. We don’t have to let Adams ruin us or let Collins destroy us. We can go anywhere, do anything, be happy. God knows, we deserve it.” He held out his hand for a few seconds, finally letting it come to rest on the ground by her knees.
She looked down at his hand and started speaking softly. “After I left your place, Mr. Collins tried to force me to go with him. Jonathan showed up and I thought I was done for sure, but oddly enough, he saved me. He killed Mr. Collins and saw me safely home. I wish he would have come in with me, though.” She laughed, the sound bitter, and King felt that statement gut him much like Jonathan had gutted Mr. Collins. He should have been the one with her, protecting her, not Jonathan. That she wished for the other man to have been by her side hurt like no fight he had ever been in.
“Mr. Adams and Shade were waiting for me,” Lady continued, still looking down. “Nessie hid me in the parlor before they knew I was there, but I think Mr. Adams knew something was up. He had Shade torture Nessie for my whereabouts, then kill her.” She was quiet for a moment. Her shoulders shook and though he couldn’t see her face, he guessed she was crying. “I only had a one-shot pistol and had to watch while Shade pushed his knife into her. I watched her die while Adams laughed.” She was shaking harder now and King saw two tears splash onto her lap. “I couldn’t do anything. He killed her and I had to sit there and watch.” She started to crumple and King pulled her into his arms, her body shaking so hard with rage and sadness and tears that he had difficulty holding her. She started to hit him with a fist, screaming against his shoulder, through the tears, “I couldn’t do anything.”
King held her as she succumbed to her grief, both at the death of her friend and at her helplessness. She cried with such pain that he felt tears fall from his eyes, even as he murmured meaningless phrases and stroked the back of her head. Now he wished Jonathan had been there, taken some measure of revenge on Lady and Nessie’s behalf.
Her tears eventually slowed and King continued to rock her. He stopped trying to find the words to soot
he her and just held her close. When she took a huge, shuddering breath, he knew the worst of it had passed, and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice rough. She pulled away from him, but not as much as before, and seemed not to mind the arm he left around her shoulders. She cleaned her face, then folded the linen square twice and ran it through her fingers much like King had been doing earlier with the grass. “I suppose I needed that. I haven’t cried since it happened.”
“You’ve had a lot to be sad about, and I’m not going to help any.” He felt Lady stiffen and pull away. He hated to do this, but she needed to know the whole truth.
“After I watched your house burn and knew you were either dead or gone—gone purposely without me—I didn’t know what to do, so I went back to my place. I think part of me was hoping you would meet me there,” he said with a sad smile of his own. “Not more than an hour after that, Mr. Adams and Shade came by. They’d talked to the constable out back and knew Mr. Collins was dead, so after a beating from Shade where I swore I’d never plotted against Mr. Adams or touched you, Mr. Adams was happy to take me back into the fold. He’s had Shade practically attached to me since then, moved me back to his house, and I couldn’t find a way to escape.”
“Oh, King.” Lady touched his hand. “On top of your injuries from your fight? It’s a wonder you survived.”
“I had to. I figured if you were still alive, I could help you most by being back in Mr. Adams’s pocket, and it worked.”
“How’s that?” She sounded leery, but she kept touching him. King felt the first real spring of hope he had in quite some time.
“I was able to direct him elsewhere, give him false leads, because he was determined to find you. He’s been quiet about it, but he’s obsessed with bringing you back.”
