The Rogue's Revenge

by Lucy E. Zahnle

  "'E's not mad! 'E's simple, 'at's all!" Robin glared.

  "'Ow do we know you're tellin' the trufe?"

  "'Arsk 'im!" A voice from the crowd demanded. "Arsk the mad 'un if 'e's a mad 'un! Lunatics never lie! They don' know 'ow!"

  "Good idea!" The bearded man turned to Tracy. "Are ye mad, mate?"

  "Certainly not!" Tracy replied, affronted, before recalling that he was not supposed to speak.

  A stunned silence filled the room. Robin scrambled onto the table to address the crowd before it became a bloodthirsty mob. "Tole ye 'e was dicked in the nob, didn' I? Finks 'e's a bleedin' earl, 'e does! Even gabs like one!"

  His audience, however, had already reached its' own conclusions. "'E's a bloody flash cove!" someone shouted. "If one of 'em's flash, I'll wager they all are!"

  "I say we show 'em a little 'Igh Toby 'orspitality!" suggested a second voice, crackling with menace. The suddenly savage mob tightened its circle around them. A dagger rasped against its sheath. A sword cut the air. A pistol barrel gleamed in the half- light. A club slapped purposefully against a hand. "Now we'll see some sport!" predicted yet another gleeful voice.

  Robin drew his boot knife and prepared for battle, glaring at the sheepish earl from his perch on the table. "Tracy, you bloody halfwit!" he said.

  ***

  Searching desperately for Robin and his companions, Lucia rode all night, her injuries growing more agonizing with each passing hour in the saddle. Her shoulder throbbed, her head pounded, and her hands, not really healed enough to handle a horse's reins, stung and bled. She was beginning to regret her decision to follow the duke.

  If she did find Robin, he would most likely send her back to Ilya and she could not allow that. Concordia would need her company at the end of this ordeal and, in any case, she wanted to satisfy herself that Mountheathe had received just retribution for his attempts on her life. An admittedly ugly part of her wanted to watch him suffer as he had made her suffer. Turning her mind away from this raw, open sore, she decided that, even if she should see Robin, she would not join him unless he needed help. Otherwise, she would ride on alone to the Crown and Thistle Inn at Carlisle which, according to Robin, was Giles's suspected destination.

  At noon, she saw a dilapidated inn set back from the road and turned her horse toward the melancholy establishment, too hungry to go on. She hoped that its general air of decay would mean that the food was cheap and the innkeeper lacking in curiosity. Her unusual garb and her magnificent mount were likely to create difficulties for her, else.

  She halted at the inn's stables, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the stench of the filthy stalls. No hostler appeared to take her horse so she wrapped the reins around a hitching post and slipped quietly through a back door into the taproom.

  A mob of people surrounded a single table, yelling threats and curses at the copper haired gypsy who stood atop it, flashing a dagger and trying to reason with them. Recognizing Robin, Lucia backed out of the room before anyone knew she was there.

  In the stableyard, she untied Diablo's tether and his ears twitched as she talked to him. "Robin's in trouble, Diablo. I've got to do something to help him, but I don't..." Her eyes suddenly brightened when she saw a burning lantern hanging from one of the neglected stable's support beams.

  She opened the stalls and chased out all the horses, then smashed the lantern against a pile of hay, still damp from the recent rain. The hay burned slowly, raising a lot of smoke, while Lucia thrust her head into the taproom, shouting, "Fire! Fire in the stables!" in tones of high panic. She sped back to Diablo, mounted, and galloped toward the highway, leaving Robin to extract whatever advantages he could from her little diversion.

  At the cry of 'fire', the unsavory patrons of the 'Wild Rose' forgot their aristocratic quarry in a homicidal stampede to the taproom's backdoor. By the time they reached the stalls, fire was beginning to consume the hay in earnest and loose horses roamed everywhere, some placidly ignoring the blaze, others shying nervously away from the burning stables and their masters' attempts to recapture them.

  Inside the 'Wild Rose', Robin jumped off the table and the gentlemen rushed out the front door. Half a dozen horses meandered about the courtyard. "Gentlemen! Our transportation!" Amberley said, running toward one of them. Minutes later, each man having caught a mount, they galloped, bareback, out of the courtyard, resembling gypsies more than ever.

  Chapter 30:

  In Which My Lord Confesses THE TRUTH

  Relieved to see Robin alive and in good health, Lucia rode steadily on without rest, choosing not to court disaster at another the roadside inn. By sunset, she was so exhausted, starved, and - wracked with pain that she could no longer stay in the saddle. Spying a farmhouse not far from the highway, she ate a meal and spent the night there, quieting the residents' questions and misgivings with a handful of shillings.

  She was mounted and away before dawn, leaving early to avoid further explanations. Ignoring her aching body, she galloped on through the morning and afternoon, determined to reach Carlisle by sunset.

  ***

  Giles's coach rolled into the courtyard of the Crown and Thistle an hour before sunset. He would have liked to proceed on across the Scottish border, but he was hungry, the horses were spent, Concordia had practically scratched his eyes out twice while attempting to escape, and he did not relish traveling in the dark. He would pass the night at the Crown and Thistle and journey on to Gretna Green in the morning.

  Giles did not expect to meet that double-dealing snake, Rochedale, at the inn after his fiasco with the Rogue's doxy nor did he foresee the likelihood of pursuit on Concordia's behalf. Considering all the unanticipated delays that had befallen him, Giles reasoned that if Malkent were chasing him, he would have already been caught. The absence of avenging relatives told him that he could compel his lady across the border and into the bonds of matrimony without fear of reprisals.

  Concordia struggled against his hold as he carried her into the inn and demanded a private parlor. The landlord bustled forward, then halted, his usually florid face drained of color. "Lord Giles! I ain't seen you since..."

  "Tulley," Mountheathe nodded distractedly. Setting Concordia on her feet, he clamped her wrist in an iron grip.

  She stomped her foot and tried to twist out of his grasp. "I am not going to marry you, my lord!"

  "No, my dear. You're married to Sir William, remember?" Giles patted her hand and smiled at the innkeeper. "This is my cousin, Lady Amaryllis Blayne, Tulley. She was recently delivered of a stillborn babe. It was her first child and when she discovered it was dead," Giles's voice fell confidentially, "the poor lady's mind snapped. Her husband has been so overset by the whole tragic affair that he has taken to his bed. I've heard of a doctor in Edinburgh who might be able to help Lady Blayne so I am escorting her, in Sir William's stead, to consult him."

  "No, he isn't! He's lying! My name is Concordia Lannington and he's trying to force me into a Gretna Green marriage! Please! You have to believe me! You have to help me!"

  Tulley's eyes shifted uncertainly from Concordia to Giles. "You see how it is!" Giles shook his head sadly. "Poor woman's deluded. Has no idea who she is or what is happening to her. I only pray that this Dr. MacMillan can cure her. Ow!" Mountheathe screamed as Concordia's perfect white teeth sank savagely into his hand. His grip weakened convulsively and she twisted free, hurtling toward the door.

  "Stop her!" Giles shrieked, darting after her. "I need that parlor immediately, Tulley!" he panted over his shoulder.

  The innkeeper bowed to his back. "It shall be done, my lord."

  Giles tackled Concordia and hauled her to her feet. "Another trick like that and I'll strip you nude and carry you around in a blanket. Then we'll see how eager you are to run about the taproom, won't we, my girl?"

  "You wouldn't!" Concordia's eyes widened.

  "Try me!"

  Scurrying up to them, Tulley bowed to Mountheathe and cast Concordia a wary glance. "Your parlor is rea
dy, my lord. Will there be anything else?"

  "Yes. I shall also require supper for two and a bedchamber for the night."

  "A...single bedchamber, my lord?" Tulley's jaw dropped.

  "Certainly a single bedchamber! I must keep Lady Blayne safe. She might do herself an injury!" Suddenly Giles's mouth fell open as if the landlord's shocking speculations upon his motives had just occurred to him. "Do you honestly think that she...! That I would...! The woman bit me, Tulley!" Pale and apologetic, Tulley led the pair to a private room, promising to return with their meal.

  As soon as Tulley was gone, Giles dropped Concordia's wrist and slammed the door. Removing his gloves and cloak, he said, "I cannot approve of your conduct during our journey, my love, but once I'm your husband, I daresay I can school you into proper decorum."

  "You'll not have the chance, my lord, for you'll never be my husband!"

  "On the contrary! I'm the only man for you. Your reputation is quite ruined after so much time alone in my company. No other man will want you now, my soiled angel! Not even your gallant Lord Peter!"

  "I'd rather live out my life as a spinster under a cloud of scandal than wed with a... with a... with you! How can you desire such an unwilling bride?"

  "It isn't you I want, my love. Just your dowry. If I must promise to love, honor, and cherish a shrew to get it, I will." Drawing a snuffbox from his pocket, Giles flicked it open with a deft hand and took a pinch, meeting Concordia's anguished eyes with a mocking smile.

  Tulley knocked on the door and entered, his wife following with a tray of food. Mountheathe asked that Mrs. Tulley to stay with his 'infirm cousin' while he went to instruct his man about the baggage. "And don't let Lady Blayne leave this room," Giles cautioned. "My dear mad cousin might hurt herself...or somebody else."

  ***

  Dusk was dimming the sky as Lucia cantered into the courtyard of the Crown and Thistle. Standing on the porch, Tulley eyed her suspiciously, seeing only a gypsy girl upon an obviously stolen mount. "Take yourself off, woman!" he shouted as she dismounted. "We don't want your kind here. The Green Goose is the place for the likes of you!"

  Lucia tethered her horse to a porch railing while Tulley was speaking. "I am looking for a gentleman traveling with a lady whom he claims is his sister. I know he is here and I'm not leaving until I've seen him," she said.

  Tulley glared at her. "If it's Lord Mountheathe you're wanting, he's traveling with his cousin, not his sister, and men of his stamp don't have truck with gypsies. Now be gone with ye."

  "So he is here! I have a great deal to discuss with his lordship. Where is he?"

  "You ain't going in there! I don't allow gypsies in my establishment!" Tulley's voice rose.

  "Out of my way!" Lucia shoved past him onto the porch.

  Here, you!" He chased after her, grabbing her injured arm as she stepped through the door.

  Gasping in pain, she scowled. "Where is Lord Mountheathe?"

  Entering the taproom in search of Madden, Giles halted, paling, as he heard his name on Lucia's lips. Shocked, he turned toward the open door and recognized the haughty gypsy arguing with Tulley as the Duchess of Lynkellyn, alive and healthy despite all his efforts to kill her. Swallowing his stunned disappointment at this setback, he resolved to try again.

  Striding over to the squabbling pair, he leveled a finger at Lucia with ominous significance. "You!" he thundered.

  Tulley and the duchess ceased their quarreling to stare at him in amazement. Lucia recovered first and grinned. "You didn't expect to see me again, did you, my lord?"

  "I should say not! After your last escapade, I wouldn't think you'd have the brass to face Lady Blayne! Where are my lady's jewels, may I ask? No! Don't tell me! They've all been sold and now that you and your paramour have squandered the proceeds, you've returned to steal something else."

  "Whatever are you raving about, my lord? You left me to die in a blazing house!"

  "You have a marvelous imagination, girl, but it won't save you from the magistrate!"

  "Do you know this young person, my lord?" Tulley broke in hesitantly.

  "Know her? She was Lady Blayne's maid! She stole her ladyship's jewels and ran off with my groom a day into our journey!" Giles leveled an accusing stare at Lucia as he spoke.

  "You are lying, sirrah!" Lucia's eyes smoldered. "Lady Blayne is in London. It is Miss Lannington who accompanies you and I insist that-"

  "I insist that you come with me, girl, and leave off your ridiculous falsehoods. No one has the time or the inclination to listen to them. You can face your mistress and confess the unhappy truth to her!" Grabbing her wrist and ignoring her wailing protests, Giles dragged her toward the private parlor.

  Dubious, Tulley watched Giles force a second struggling, shrieking young woman into the bowels of the inn. "Shall I send word to the magistrate, my lord?"

  "No! Certainly not!" Mountheathe shouted over Lucia's furious din. "Lady Blayne could never handle the scandal! I will deal with this..." he cast Lucia a glance of genuine loathing "...this creature myself."

  "I am not a maid!" Lucia screamed over his shoulder to the innkeeper. "If you don't stop him, he's going to kill me!"

  "Enough of your wild allegations, my girl. In you go!" He shoved her into the parlor and she stumbled, falling to her knees and groaning with pain as her damaged body punished her for Giles's rough handling.

  Hastily repeating his lies to Tulley's astonished wife, Giles dismissed her with a coin and closed the door. Lucia scrambled to her feet, fire in her eyes. "Robin will have something to say to all this when he arrives, my lord!"

  "How does the Rogue abide your waspish tongue, you little slut?" he said, pushing her toward the window seat. "Sit down beside Concordia and shut your mouth."

  Lucia settled on the loveseat and doffed her cloak, surveying Concordia critically. Having long ago escaped its fashionable coiffure, Connie's hair tumbled in a tangle about her shoulders and her once elegant satin ballgown was ragged and streaked with mud, but otherwise the lady seemed unharmed. "Your Grace!" she said, giving Lucia a quick hug. "Are you alright? How come you here? What are we to do?"

  "No talking!" Giles said, emptying a crystal decanter of claret into a glass. Sipping his wine, he contemplated the women, then sauntered over to Lucia, his eyes gleaming with contempt. His fingers danced over her injured shoulder and she winced. "You are remarkably hard to kill, little slattern! You've been stabbed, shot, and torched and still you live! I'm beginning to think you're more witch than bitch!"

  Giles's attention shifted to Concordia. "Now you, Concordia, are most definitely a bitch!" he sneered. "I have the scratches, bites, and claw marks to prove it. Once we're married, though, I'll tame you the only way a wild dog can be tamed." With a low, cruel laugh, he lifted her chin to gaze into her defiant eyes. "With the whip, my dear!"

  Concordia jumped to her feet, fists clenched. "You are a dastard, my lord, and I'll never, ever marry you, no matter how many whips you take to me. I cringe at the very thought of becoming Lady Mountheathe!"

  Giles laughed again. Crushing Concordia to him, he pinned her arms beneath his and assaulted her mouth with a brutal kiss that left her lips bruised and swollen. Twisting and shoving futilely against his hold, she kicked at his shin with her slippered foot, wincing as pain shot through her leg. Cursing her roundly, Giles clamped her wrist in one hand, raising his other to strike her across the face.

  Leaping up, Lucia grabbed the empty decanter. Rushing Giles as his hand swung toward Concordia's head, she raised the bottle, murder in her eyes. As the decanter arced downward, Giles shoved Concordia away and caught Lucia's wrists in his hands. His fingers bruised her skin as they struggled and he slowly forced the decanter upward. Hooking her leg around his, Lucia jerked his foot out from under him and he tumbled down, dragging her with him. The decanter smashed on the floor beside his head, glass shards scattering across the room. One of them sliced a gash above his eye.

  As the combatants twisted and wri
thed on the floor, Concordia circled around them, searching for some way to aid the duchess. She thought of going for help, but the innkeeper was more likely to help Giles than Lucia. She watched, dismayed, as, with brute strength, Mountheathe pinned Lucia to the floor.

  Lucia was in agony. Her injured shoulder and blistered hands already torturing her, she nearly fainted when Giles threw himself on top of her, knocking the breath out of her. Giles was going to kill her; that was plain; but at least she could give Concordia a chance to live.

  "Run,...Concordia!" she panted, straining with every muscle to throw Mountheathe off her. "Never mind...me! Run! But 'ware...the innkeep!"

  Nodding understanding, Concordia took one last anxious look at the combatants and raced from the room. She passed no one until she entered the taproom, then out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tulley rushing at her. She dashed for the door and her fingers clasped the knob just as Tulley reached her side. He gently removed her hand, saying, "I'm sorry, Lady Blayne, but I don't think his lordship wants you to go outside."

  Concordia stamped her foot in frustration, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm not Lady Blayne!"

  Suddenly the door opened and a raven-haired gypsy strode in, wearing a tattered tunic and muddied boots. Tulley rolled his eyes at the ceiling with a groan. "Not another one! That's all I need today."

  Concordia flung herself into the gypsy's arms. "Lord Norworth! I am so glad to see you!"

  Malkent and Amberley followed Peter, Robin looking thunderous. His smoldering eyes sought the innkeeper. "Tulley! What the devil is my horse doing tethered to your porch? I want the bastard that stole him brought to me at once!"

  Tulley fell backward a step, terror shadowing his shocked face as he stared at this wild gypsy blade, once a regular customer in his taproom. "Lord Robin! I-I mean Your Grace, I...!" He sketched a frantic bow. "My l-Your Grace, it was the gypsy girl... the gypsy girl in his lordship's parlor!"