by Claudy Conn
“That was different. Things were running smoothly and there would have been a nice savings in it for us, but now with the coast being guarded and with his lordship and Sir Jacob about, it has a different feel to it.” The squire paced. “A man should know when to cut line and get out. You aren’t doing that. Just the opposite. It was a completely different thing when all we did was smuggle brandy.”
“Shut up! Don’t get all sanctimonious on me! You were happy enough for the ready. As far as the Scotsman is concerned, after tonight there won’t be much he can do…if he lives through it.”
The squire became quiet. “Why wouldn’t he live through it?”
“Seas are rough…” David said hurriedly. “ Even if he survives the night, he will have taken a part in it and can’t inform on himself now can he?’
“You think someone like him is afraid of the law? Think again, son. You aren’t seeing this clearly.”
“Papa, enough! MacTorry is my problem and I mean to handle him, one way or another.”
“Have you taken the measure of the man? You don’t know what you are up against, David.”
“You give him too much credit. He is no more than a rogue who is bored and looking for a lark. Going to give him one,” David said with a smirk.
“You are jealous of him and want to bring him low. It isn’t going to happen this way, and that is another thing. I won’t have you terrorizing our guest. It isn’t seemly and word will get out. Do you understand me?”
“Aye, servants talk, but they don’t know…”
“You don’t know what they know. It has been my experience that they know everything that goes on in their household. Stay away from her and stop letting that thing between your legs rule your mind.”
“You might as well understand me, Papa. I don’t mean to let that Scotsman stand in my way with Exerilla. I want her and she will be mine.”
The squire was shocked. He had done many things he was ashamed of, but he had never crossed the line. He had never taken a woman against her will. It was unthinkable. When had his son become so black-hearted?
* * *
Exerilla laid in her bed thinking about Lord Blue Eyes and his kiss. She could still taste him, smell him, and feel him.
It was late and she really needed some sleep.
An energy arising from her magic inner witch was taking over her senses and demanded release. Her witch wanted out, needed to breathe, and told her she needed him.
She got up from the bed and paced. X went to the window and opened it for air then stopped short to listen as she stood breathing in the cold night breeze. She could hear murmuring. It sounded like two men. She saw movement but couldn’t make out who they were in the dark.
It was time to up the volume on her witch’s hearing. She closed her eyes and gave her witch release. It felt so darn good. It was who she was and who she needed to be. All this while in this time zone, she had been hiding her witch deep inside of her so that it could not be detected by another otherworldly being.
She could now hear everything quite clearly. The breath these two individual men took and released. She could hear even the movement of their hands and the sound of their boots shuffling on the grass. She heard the soft breeze wafting through the trees, but most importantly she could hear what they were saying.
She almost gasped out loud as she recognized Jerry Swit’s voice and heard his resigned tone. “Aye, he means to join me for the crossing, but I don’t like it. He is a crafty one and I don’t know who is doing the trapping here.” He seemed to hesitate and asked, “is yer father still willing to let us pass through his land? It is the best route you know.”
“Of course. He likes the blunt thrown his way.”
Exerilla held onto the ledge for support. She was in shock. The man, who had just answered Swit, was David!
“Right, but I’m telling you again that this Scotsman is going to be trouble. I don’t like it.”
“Don’t be a fool. He thinks he is out for a lark. Once he is embroiled, then he is ours.” David paused. “Tell me Swit, just why does Jacob give you so much freedom?”
“Friendship,” Swit answered glibly.
“Friendship be damned! Just what do you have on him?”
“Never mind. I best be going if I am to round up m’lads at the dock and set things in motion.”
The two dark figures parted company.
Exerilla stood for a long moment, unable to move. Swit and Horwich were smugglers. Somehow they had drawn Hunter into it. This was not good and she did not like what she heard.
* * *
Hunter watched France recede in the darkness of the night. His mind was with his younger brother Ferrell, whose letter had spurred him on this particular mission. “A traitor lies near,” Ferrell had written. “They are looking at me, but I am fairly certain I know who it is. I am watching him. Would you help me investigate from your side of the channel?” Ferrell was answered in person, coming to Hunter one evening through the portal when his brother was alone.
It was nearly impossible to imagine that Swit could manage such an operation. It was one that had slipped by most of Wellington’s staff. Someone had to be behind him, and he was beginning to think that he knew just who that someone was.
The winds had been with them. Forty tubs had been secured and stowed on board Sir Jacob’s yacht, and so deftly hidden that you could move from end to the other without easily catching sight of them.
Hunter watched the three men Swit had brought with him and remembered the first of Jerry’s lies this night. He had said only one man would accompany them.
He hadn’t been fooled.
He knew something else. These men, though they seemed to like Jerry and take their orders from him, were not being paid by Swit. They were locals. They had been gathered into a crew by a local, and were paid by a local. Hunter had no doubt that it was the squire’s son, David Horwich.
He had watched these seamen at their tasks, and they were a skillful crew that worked as a team. Rope, lines, slings, and sinking stones had all been set in place ready for use if the Custom House vessels guarding the coast threatened. Hunter had no doubt that these men had been hand picked by David.
The weather was still favorable, a soft glow hovered in the sky. Hunter moved amongst the crew as he gazed through the darkness at the sea which was lit by a half moon and many visible, brilliant stars.
“You’re a strange covey,” Swit told him as he passed by.
“Am I?” was all Hunter could answer. “What’s next?”
“I expect we’ll soon be slinking into the harbor where we’ll mingle with the local fishing boats before docking. None will be the wiser.”
“It has been my experience…” his lordship cautioned, “…that we do not always get what we expect, Swit. Have ye ever thought about that?”
Swit shrugged. “Aye, there is a truth in that.”
Hunter noticed that the wind had picked up and the sea had become temperamental. “We won’t be bothered by the excisemen for the sea is tossing aboot up just enough to discourage the cutters.”
“Bloody windy!” commented one of the nearby seamen. “It’ll slow us down.”
“Aw, baby be scared,” said another who laughed over his large belly.
Hunter scanned the sky and stared hard at the scudding clouds. No real storm brewed here, but he leaned against the gunwale and folded his arms across his chest as he put his thoughts in order.
Exerilla was lingering in his brain. Her voice forever tickling his ears, her image stroking his shaft, but more than that…her manners massaged and soothed his soul. He wanted her, but he had a job to do. He had Ferrell to save and he had to discover who the bloody traitor in Wellington’s staff might be. Tonight brought him closer to discovering how it had been accomplished. He was halfway there, but for now he could do some tracking to the source.
He was surprised to see Swit working the sails beside him and was actually good at it. He seemed to enjoy what he
was doing. The men listened to him, took his orders, and he saw him in a slightly different light than he had before.
He was undoubtedly one of the most unprincipled men of his class that Hunter had ever come across, but there was no gainsaying that he was skilled at a great many sports.
They merged with the night as the time passed and their journey progressed. The men jested amongst themselves and worked tirelessly against the force of the wind.
Eventually they worked their way into the cove, cruising in quietly and still under the cover of darkness toward the shoreline.
In spite of the fact that Hunter was there for reasons of his own that had nothing to do with smuggling, he felt a thrill of excitement. Land became evident from the light of a lantern being waved for them.
The lantern signaled that all was safe by going dark to the count of one, two three, and then bright, for one, two, three. This signal was repeated over and over.
The crew heaved sighs of relief.
With sure conviction, Hunter knew what this night had been about. They had gone to great lengths to convince him that their operation was about one thing—brandy smuggling. However, he knew otherwise and tonight had confirmed it. He had heard one of the older sailors remark quietly to a younger cohort, that they hadn’t done the usual run. He seemed relieved by that.
Och aye, thought Hunter. David Horwich and Swit wanted him to believe that this was their dark secret, brandy smuggling. He knew better, and now all he had to do was prove it and hold it over Horwich’s head to get what he wanted. What he wanted was the man behind the operation, and he knew that wasn’t David Horwich!
~ Eighteen ~
PRINCESS TAT LIFTED her head in a willful display of temper. Exerilla laughed and maintained her command, bringing her to a halt with an amicable pat and stroke to the mare’s wide, lovely neck. “There, you silly filly.”
She nimbly dismounted and led the horse toward the stables. A soft voice at her back made her jump.
“Hand over the reins, lass. I’d be pleased to hot walk her for ye, if ye would like to go up to the house and enjoy a cup of tea with Mrs. Lyons and Mrs. Horwich.”
“Oh, my lord,” she said and realized she was smiling like an idiot. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I wasn’t, love. I just got back and Jeffries is walking my horse. The least I can do is walk yours.” He took the reins and encouraged, “Go on then, sweetheart, join Mrs. Horwich up at the house.”
“Well, I can finish walking Princess, since I am not going up to the house today. Mary isn’t with me today. We are expecting dinner guests and she told me to just go on up for a ride. She had some things to do and the squire did not at all object.”
“And you mean to say that David did not escort you here?” He sounded surprised.
“No, why would I allow him to do so?” She realized to say more would put her in a position where she would have to explain. “At any rate, David was called unexpectedly to London.”
“Was he? On business, no doubt?”
“I don’t know. He sent a note round to his mother saying he would only be gone a day or so.”
“Odd,” his lordship said with a frown.
“Everything about David Horwich is odd, but why should his going off to London seem odd to you?”
“Because Jerry Swit left us suddenly this morning also saying he was off for London. He too expects to be back within a day or so.”
Her brows raised. “Yup, that is an odd coincidence.” She wondered if she should tell him what she knew. She wanted to say that David and Swit were working together as smugglers. She said instead, “I’m not much on coincidences.” She almost told him then what she had overheard, but then thought better of it. She bit her bottom lip as she stopped herself from further remarking.
He raised a brow. “What, lass?”
“Oh, nothing. How do you English say it? Oh that’s right…naught.” She tried to make light of it and turn him off to something new.
“You know, even when you are fibbing you are bewitching,” he said on a soft note.
“Thank you and may I return the compliment by saying…er…so are you, very charming, when you are fibbing.”
He laughed and she smiled as she realized she would rather be in Hunter’s company than with anyone else. She was falling hard and she was helpless to stop it from happening. In fact, maybe she had already fallen.
“Should I ask you what you think I am fibbing about?”
“Oh no, don’t go there,” she answered saucily. “I don’t want to encourage more lies out of you.”
“Och lass, lass if this was another time, another place…” he allowed his words to trail off.
“You are a heart-raker, Hunter MacTorry. If a woman allows, you would reach in and take her heart and when you were done with her, you would think you have given it back. But you can’t manage that, not until she wants it back.” She shook her head. “I have my eyes wide open. I don’t want your heart. Furthermore, I’m not giving you mine.” She was lying to herself as well as to him, but she sounded convincing.
“So then, heart-breaker is what you have labeled me?” he sounded surprised.
“Oh no, I said, heart-raker, and here is the difference. Heart-breakers are wildly captivating, which you are, but they give false promises and false hope. You don’t do that. You offer nothing but pleasure and walk away casually. “Ah-huh, you are a cold-blooded heart-raker.”
“Cold-blooded, eh? Is that how you see me?” he sounded offended.
“Well, as one of your victims, I stand prejudiced against you.” She saw his expression and laughed.
“A victim? Did you not know what you were doing when you let me…kiss you?” he asked on a husky note.
“Yes, my lord, I knew,” she said playfully.
“Then, no victim,” he returned as he came in closer and let his hand slide down her arm and take hold.
“Yes, a victim, but a willing one,” and she looked into those blues. This was it. She was throwing herself at him. She had never done anything like that before.
“Och, lass,” he said sounding a bit frenzied. Suddenly he took her horse in tow and stepped away. “Come on, I shall put Princess in her stall and then see ye home.”
“Oh,” she said suddenly wondering if she had gone too far with her teasing.
He turned and grinned at her, “Aye and we’ll have to stop at the cottage on our way. I think I may have left something behind, when we were there last.”
“Oh,” she said and could not stop herself from smiling.
* * *
The sun was waning, as Swit reached the designated tavern for his meeting. He jumped off his horse, rubbed his gloved hands together against the chill in the air and handed his gelding over to a groom. “Eh, there,” he said and flipped the boy a coin, thinking that he was a good and generous man.
“Where the devil is he?” he asked himself out loud as he entered the main galley and looked about for David Horwich. Blasted fellow, he thought to himself. He wished he had never met him, or got into business with him. It wasn’t turning out to be either the lark, or the type of thing he wanted to do much longer.
It was too damned dangerous by far and he felt the hairs at the back of his neck forever spiking with his new fears. This was not what he had signed on for. Sure, he had enjoyed arranging the connection with the land runners for the brandy, but this…this wasn’t what he could talk himself into liking.
Money had always ruled his activities. He had none and he needed it. He was born gentry, but without a sou. His father had taught them to live by their wits, to hang onto those that had money. He had found his good looks and his charm useful advantages and had done just that for a great many years, staving off the debtor’s prison by a hairs breath. He only had a small estate, run down and unattended, but it was still his all the same, and his dream was to make one great killing, or marry into money, so that he could restore his home to its former glory.
This
business with David looked as though it might land him in prison, more than it would substantial monies.
David came in behind him, nudged his shoulder and led him to a corner table. David always had his back to the wall, as though forever expecting an attack.
They sat down and ordered and then he waited for David to speak. When David remained in thoughtful silence he said with frustration, “Right then, we’re here, heading for London in the morning, so tell me what this is all about.”
“Matters have changed. We no longer need to make arrangements with the land runners. You have suspected, though you haven’t been sure, that we are running more than brandy.”
“Right then, getting tired of the sport. I need to move on, anyway.” Jerry said.
“Oh no, Jerry, I think not,” David said. “You aren’t done, till I say so.”
The barmaid arrived with their pints, each took his tankard; Swit gave her rump a friendly pat and waited for her smile as she drifted off to another table.
Swit turned on David irritated because no one told him what to do. “Oh no?” he challenged, and then spoke his mind, “Aye, do you think I am a fool. I knew we weren’t just running rum and brandy. I went along with it at first, but now that I’m sure it is what I thought it could be, I’m out.” Swit’s eyes narrowed. “I am many things, but with talk about that damned Napoleon besting our Wellington, well, I’ll not be a traitor.”
“Quiet,” David said harshly. “What do you care for such things? The French are forever going to war with us, will continue to do so whether we win this battle or not. In the meantime, there is a profit to be made from it.”
“Zounds, man! You don’t need me! Besides, this is different. We could hang for this, have you thought of that?” Swit charged.
“Bellingham needs us. He steals the secrets from the Home Office for a price and we deliver them for a price. That is how it works.”
“I’m out of this. I don’t hold with it, besides Sir Jacob is showing signs of tiring of me. I don’t think it will be long before he boots me out.”
“He won’t do that, will he? You have something on him, don’t you?”
