Sir Michael's Mayhem

by Susan M. Baganz

  She relished his hand holding hers, although the grip was relaxed now. Rough calloused hands. Scarred in places. She watched the rise and fall of the muscles not very well hidden beneath the shirt and waistcoat. He had been coatless. She was tempted to touch the hair peeking out of his shirt. What did it feel like? It was brown and curly. Was it soft? She admired the muscles in his arms and legs and the calves encased in his custom boots. Made by Hoby, she suspected, but what did she know? They didn’t look as polished as they usually did, but then he probably didn’t have time to find a replacement for his valet, Tristan.

  Katrina set the journal aside. It was too dark to read. The best she could tell was that they were heading west. She leaned her head back and tried to sleep. Who knew when she would need to be alert and ready for whatever was ahead?

  ~*~

  Her kisses were sweet. Michael loved the feel of the skin on her heart-shaped face. So petite and beautiful. Hair like a chocolate waterfall. He liked chocolate, didn’t he? He couldn’t remember. Gray eyes with flecks of green that reminded him of a stormy sea. Sea. He felt a rocking. Was he at sea? He inhaled. No. he couldn’t smell the water. Horses, dust. Where was he? He looked to her face again and peace overwhelmed him. She was here. He would be all right. Somehow, he knew that as long as she was there, he could handle anything that came his way. He must love her. Something inside told him he did. So why had he not married her? She was too beautiful, too precious, to still be unwed.

  God was here too. He knew God. He was certain of it. “For God so loved the world…” he remembered that one. Any others? Something about the enemy being like a prowling lion and to be on the alert lest he be devoured. Was that why this woman looked frightened? Were they in danger? She spoke of his work. Had he made an enemy? It sounded as though he had and she was scared for them both. Someone knocked. Was someone at the door? No. It was only his head pounding. He really wished it would stop. And then for a while it did.

  ~*~

  Michael had been restless. He moaned, squinted, and frowned even as he slept. She “shushed” him, squeezed his hand, and spoke softly to him. He relaxed again, limp in her lap, a heavy but welcome weight. Katrina glanced down at his face. The bloody linen. The bruising forming near one eye that was beginning to swell. The unshaven chin. She reached up and touched the prickly beard. What had been going on that he had found himself in such a state? He was the Cat. Sly, capable, and rarely taken by surprise. His reputation as a spy was stellar. How had this star fallen so far? She kept her palm against his cheek and chin, just to touch and hold him. His skin was abnormally warm. The carriage was unbearably stuffy even in the dark of the summer night. She was sweating under the heat of his body, her long dress, and the cloak she still wore.

  She reached up to untie the ribbons of her cloak with her other hand to pry it off her shoulders. Her outfit was looser than a normal gown. Dressed as a lady of the night had some advantages. No tight corset or stays to restrict her. She could feel the stagnant air settle on her exposed skin, even the diamond scar on her back. She frowned. The Black Diamond once again had her and Michael in his power, and with her companion injured how could they ever hope to escape? Tears welled in her eyes and she let them fall as she gazed on the face of the one man she’d always admired. Her hero. Her friend. The only man she loved. Hopelessness threatened to suffocate her more than the heat ever could. He lay so still now. What if he never awoke again to smile at her, to tease her, or to give her that conspiratorial wink?

  The tempo of the horses changed as the coach slowed. Soon the door to the carriage would unlock. Then what?

  ~*~

  The door opened and a gruff voice could be heard. “You have five minutes to take care of your needs before we leave. You will be under guard. Don’t try anything foolish.”

  “I would be delighted to comply if you could help me move Sir Tidley.”

  The head peeked inside. “Still out, is he?”

  “Yes,” Was all she replied. She managed to wiggle out from under Michael and place his head gently on her cloak for a pillow.

  ~*~

  When she had finished, and had inhaled deeply of the early morning dawn, she was shoved back into the coach and the door slammed soundly behind her. She could hear the lock turn as she struggled to pick herself up off the filthy floor. The coach took off in a jerk that threw her on top of Sir Michael. An arm came to clasp her close and she found herself gazing into his coffee-colored eyes.

  “Hello, beautiful. I missed you.”

  He stunk of stale alcohol, but even so, she found she did not really want to move from his embrace. She wished he had not been injured because she longed to lean on his strong shoulders to find comfort and strength for what lie ahead. Suddenly weariness overtook her. She dropped her head down on his chest and wept.

  ~*~

  He rubbed her back. Confound it. What was he to do now? He lifted his head up enough to plant a kiss on the top of her hair. He inhaled deeply. Vanilla. Something deep inside him stirred in response to that scent. Vanilla. It reminded him of love. Home. Comfort. Happiness. He sniffed again and grinned. He didn’t know who this woman was, but one thing he did recognize was this—she belonged to him and he would fight with every fibre of his being to ensure her safety.

  18

  The hours wore on and Michael drifted in and out of sleep. Somehow, Katrina managed to sit upright again and position Michael’s head on her lap. Her legs went numb as she tried to rest and pray. She thought about what she’d read in Scripture. Jesus had warned about fathers turning against sons. Was this more than a political battle between Michael and his father, the Black Diamond, and the nations they fought for? Could there also be a spiritual battle being waged? How did one fight that? She really didn’t understand. She hadn’t read that far in the Bible. She believed God was with Michael and her. Surely those stories from church when she was a child, were true. God saving the three men out of the fiery furnace. Daniel, in the lion’s den, unscathed. Death was not the worst possible scenario—hell was. She’d been saved from that.

  ~*~

  The carriage slowed and took a trajectory down a rough road. Michael was awakened by the jostling. Katrina had all she could do to keep them from falling off the seat. When it came to a halt he struggled to sit up, groggy but awake.

  “How are you?” Katrina asked with concern. The carriage was fairly dim, although it would be late morning by now.

  “I suspect I’ve had better days.” He groaned.

  “I’m certain you have.”

  Before Katrina could continue her inquiry, the carriage door was unbolted and opened. A rough looking character peered inside. “Out whicha now, an no funny biznous or I’ll pop you one.” He waved a gun at them.

  Katrina grabbed her cloak and reticule before she alighted from the carriage and turned to assist Michael who could barely stand. The sun blinded but the fresh air and breeze were welcome after the stifling heat of the closed-in carriage. Katrina’s hair was plastered to her head from perspiration. Michael, leaning heavily against her, was also drenched in sweat. Katrina struggled to keep him upright in the heat.

  The man pointed to a small hunter’s lodge a few feet away. Waving his gun, he followed as Katrina struggled to help Michael to the door. Once inside the one room hut, the heat from the closed-up room suffocated. The gun pushing into her backside propelled her forward and she managed to get Michael to the one pallet bed on the far side of the small room. He collapsed unceremoniously and lay still, his eyes open, beseeching her for answers.

  Before she could inquire of her captor, the door was slammed and bolted from the outside. Katrina ran to the windows to see if she could open any, but they were sealed shut. She leaned against the wall in frustration and slid to the floor, resting her arms on her knees. She leaned her head forward, feeling utterly hopeless.

  “We’re trapped?” Michael’s voice was soft.

  Katrina nodded.

  “At least it’s not moving. A
nd they did not separate us. Those are two things to be thankful for.”

  Katrina lifted her head.

  He smiled at her, and moved over to make room on the pallet. He patted the thin mattress. “You need to rest.”

  “It’s the middle of the day,” she protested.

  “You had other plans I was unaware of? Perhaps an appointment to keep? Maybe a modiste to visit? Or is this your ‘at home’ day? Are we expecting guests?” He gave a cheeky grin.

  “This situation isn’t funny, Michael.”

  “I’m sure it isn’t, and while I would like to understand what is behind all of this, I suspect the information will do me no good. Rest will enable us to think more clearly when the time comes.” He patted the pallet again.

  Katrina’s eyes felt like sand and the makeshift bed looked tempting. She struggled to her feet, kicked off her slippers, and stretched herself out next to Michael, with her face to the door. Michael rubbed her back. “Rest, beautiful, we are not alone, God is with us.”

  “I will never leave you or forsake you.”

  “What?” Michael asked.

  “I read that in the Bible somewhere.”

  “It sounds familiar.”

  “You read the Bible?” Katrina closed her eyes.

  “I must have.” Michael yawned and let his hand rest on her hip. “Rest, beautiful. Worrying will gain us nothing at this point.”

  “You never worry?”

  “How would I know? It doesn’t seem to be a profitable thing to do in this case. We may feel helpless right now, but the danger is not imminent. We need to rest and be ready for whatever and whenever something occurs.”

  Katrina was silent.

  “Beautiful? You are tense. Relax.”

  “I’ve never slept with a man before,” she whispered.

  “I’ll not ravish you. Your virtue is safe with me.”

  “I know it is, Michael. Still, I wish…”

  “You wish what?”

  She rolled over on the narrow pallet to face him. Her hand came up to rest on his chest. He was so warm. The hand that had been dislodged from her hip came to clasp hers, moving it to the tiny space between them. They slept.

  ~*~

  Michael didn’t sleep long. He spent time admiring the woman next to him. Dusk was beginning to settle so it was probably getting close to eight-of-the-clock in the evening. His stomach growled. He wondered when he’d last eaten, and if their captors planned to starve them.

  He gently pushed a few strands of hair off of this woman’s face. Such a powerful personality in a pint-sized package. She obviously knew him well, or she wouldn’t have allowed him this close. He wished he could remember who she was. Right now, she was his only link to the world. He tried to imagine his past and found the exercise frustrating. He chafed at the bandage around his head but figured it might be helping with his mammoth headache. He rose to find a place to relieve himself. Not many options in the tiny enclosed space, but a makeshift screen served for some privacy in the event this fellow prisoner should awaken.

  When he finished, he searched the small space for any signs of food. He was able to look out the window and saw where guards were posted. Only one window, however, did not give much information about where they all were, and how many of them might be out there.

  Something furry appeared in the glass. Long and thin, it stared at Michael, tilted its head, and tapped at the window. Michael could have sworn it smiled and winked at him. How on earth did a ferret get to be out here, in the middle of nowhere?

  A short time later Michael heard a small thud coming from the chimney. He went over there and found a branch with some grapes on them. A tad on the bitter side, they were still edible. Michael wiped them off on Beautiful’s cloak as it seemed the cleanest thing available and ate a few, saving the majority for his partner. Silently he thanked God for sending a small animal to provide them with food.

  Eventually, he went to recline on the pallet as there were no chairs. Soon he was drifting back to a dreamless sleep praying silently for God’s wisdom and guidance. It seemed they were hopelessly dependent upon Him for any rescue.

  ~*~

  The moon was high in the sky. Katrina had been awoke for a short time, enjoying the grapes that appeared and trying again to read the journal. Michael tossed and turned but relaxed when she touched him or whispered. Then he would stop and smile. She longed to trace that smile with her fingers or to taste it with her lips. She shook her head. She was hopeless. Why, even in the direst circumstances, would she even think about kissing him? He didn’t even know who she was. Beautiful, indeed! When he woke up she would…

  The bolt creaked and groaned outside the door and Katrina shook Michael. “Wake up. Someone is here,” she hissed at him. She rose to stand, tucking the journal back into her reticule.

  ~*~

  One of their burly captors entered. His presence filled the cabin and sucked the remaining air out of it.

  “Yous come wit’ me.” He waved a pistol at Katrina. “’elp ’im up.”

  Katrina nodded, threw her cloak around her shoulders, grabbed the bag, and assisted Michael to his feet. She shoved the remaining few grapes in his hand. “Eat,” she whispered.

  Upon gaining the outside they both stood and inhaled deeply of the cooler, fresh night air. The prod of a muzzle in her back forced her to abandon this momentary delight and move forward with Michael. The carriage was before them again. They were bundled inside, the door locked, and the horses took off.

  Michael offered her a grape, but Katrina’s stomach was in knots. Was this it? Would these be her last moments with Michael? She turned to look at him as he rested against the squabs. His eyes met hers and her heart melted. If these were her last moments, she could…

  Without even realizing she had done so, Katrina leaned into Michael, raised her head to his and sought his lips.

  He groaned deep in his throat as he wrapped his arms around her and accepted her offering. The carriage slowed and they broke the embrace.

  “Always remember that I loved you.”

  “Past? Not present tense?” he asked.

  “I anticipate the present to end soon.”

  “Not if I have any say in the matter.”

  “Michael.” Her voice held a warning.

  “Listen, beautiful, your name, finally. Please.”

  “Katrina. Katrina Shepherd.”

  “Katrina. It sounds like royalty. Beautiful royalty to whom I owe my allegiance and life.”

  “Now you’re being dramatic.”

  “You’re the one predicting our doom here, not me. That’s dramatic.”

  The argument was broken when the carriage stopped and the door flew open. A dark shadowy figure, tall and lean, peered in.

  “Ah, Cat and Mouse, indeed, you are both here. Fine. Very fine. Please, be my guests and exit.” The deep voice ended this speech with a chuckle.

  “The Black Diamond,” Katrina whispered to Michael as she moved to the door.

  “I’m a Mouse?”

  “You’re the Cat, silly. I’m known as Mouse.”

  ~*~

  Michael’s head spun with all that seemed to take place against the black backdrop of his memory. Kisses that stirred up feelings for this woman he couldn’t remember but that his brain searched feverishly for. Cat and Mouse. Katrina. Death? The Black Diamond. None of it made sense. He fought dizziness as he exited the carriage, only to lean heavily against Beautiful. Katrina. Mouse?

  The fresh air was reviving, however, and he struggled to pull himself to his full height which still fell several inches shorter than the debonair man standing in front of them in a mask and domino.

  ~*~

  “You will forgive me for being hesitant to reveal myself, even if you will never make it back to share what you know. However, Michael, my son, I wanted to share a moment with you. Kind of a family thing, as it were.” The man turned and moved towards a graveyard.

  The gaoler’s gun motioned Katrina and
Michael forward.

  The Black Diamond came to stand beside a small gravestone and the man behind Michael pushed him forward, causing him to fall on his knees with Katrina beside him, having been thrown off balance. Michael stared at the stone in front of him.

  Marietta Tidley

  Beloved daughter and mother

  1766 – 1804

  Something ached behind his eyes and dropped his head forward.

  Katrina put her arm around him. “I’m so sorry, Michael.”

  “Who is it?” he whispered back. The pain was deafening. Blackness closed in.

  Before Katrina could answer, the Black Diamond spoke again.

  “Moving, isn’t it? Dear little Marietta. Did I tell you that I was fond of her? She was a fool, though. She really thought I loved her and would marry her. It was her father I was out to destroy. And I succeeded better than I ever hoped. You were the death knell to his aspiration in the Home Office. Worth it to know that he would not be able to uncover my plans. But Michael, where are her journals? I cannot afford to have them fall into the wrong hands and possibly reveal, even accidently, my identity. The only one who would have access to them would have been you. So, tell me where they are and when I find them, you will be free.”

  Michael struggled to hold on to consciousness and listen to the man who spoke. None of it made sense. He couldn’t grasp what this was about. Marietta had to be important but the name meant nothing to him. Katrina’s hand rested on his back, rubbing, almost petting him to offer comfort.

  “Michael?” she said.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about, my lord,” he said.

  “I suspected that would be your response.” The dark lord stepped forward, clasped Katrina by her arm and drew her to her feet.

  Michael leaned back on his heels.

  The Black Diamond untied Katrina’s cloak, let it fall to the ground and then shoved her blouse off her right shoulder revealing the brand of a diamond. “My men did beautiful work, didn’t they?” His finger traced the diamond.

  Katrina stood still with her head turned away from Michael.