Smuggler's Lair

by Virginia Henley

  “You’re too late, Tom. I’ve already bribed your man here.” Falcon winked. “For a bottle of French brandy he turned over his cutlass and offered to throw in his sister.”

  Carswell didn’t laugh. “I must perform my duty, Lord Hawkhurst. Have you any goods to declare?”

  “Not a herring.” He handed him the lantern and jerked his thumb toward the hold. “Be my guest. Speaking of sisters, I took mine for a sail to the Isle of Wight yesterday before the autumn gales threaten. Lord Carisbrooke invited us to the castle. Confidentially, he’s looking for a bride, but Tory isn’t keen.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Carswell.” Victoria had put off her cloak to catch his eye. “You conduct yourself with such authority, sir, it quite takes my breath away. May I accompany you while you inspect the ship?”

  “Mistress Palmer, it would be an honor.” He held the lantern high and moved toward the hold. “Mind your step, my dear.”

  On the stairs she took his arm and held it tightly as if she were afraid of falling. “Ugh, why do ships always smell of tar?”

  “Ship’s timbers are caulked with tar to keep them waterproof. ’Tis a necessary evil, I’m afraid.”

  “Like customs officers,” she said sweetly.

  “We are necessary, but hardly evil, my dear.”

  She threw him a mischievous glance. “I’m teasing you, Thomas.” Tory went back up the steps ahead of him, affording him a generous glimpse of her trim ankles. “Goodnight, Mr. Carswell. Falcon, do hurry and haul up the anchor, I’m freezing to death.”

  “Good night, Carswell. Your vigilance is commendable.” Falcon picked up Tory’s cloak and draped it about her shoulders. “And your cockteasing is shameless,” he murmured.

  Tory stood at the ship’s rail as it glided up the river and docked close by the castle. Relief washed over her that they were home safe, yet she knew marauding and smuggling were in Falcon’s blood. How long would it be before he’d be off roving again?

  Victoria didn’t have long to wait. The following night, after they watched Pandora swim beneath the light of the waning moon, and they returned to their tower chamber, she became alarmed when she saw Falcon change into dark clothes and remove his seal ring.

  “You cannot go for the chocolate tonight. The moon is out and there is no cloud cover.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s not a smuggling run through Ashdown Forest. The cacao beans are destined for Bodiam. It will only take six of us to transport the entire dozen crates. Besides, there’s a low mist coming in from the sea that will give us cover at the marsh.”

  “If it’s only for Bodiam, why the devil didn’t you simply pay the excise tax on the bloody cacao?”

  He winked. “Contraband chocolate tastes so much sweeter.”

  “Moonlight is an omen—omens are ominous. Don’t go.”

  “You are full of portents tonight, like a pagan dryad reading her rune stones. I prefer to read my tide tables. If it makes you feel better, Tory, I’ll take my pistols.”

  That makes me feel worse! “I’m coming with you.”

  She went to the wardrobe to get the boy’s garments she’d worn when she’d gone to the Romney Marsh before.

  “To prove how little risk there is, I’ll agree to take you along.” He loaded his pistols and when she was dressed he held one out. “Don’t forget to fully cock before you shoot.” Falcon stuck his weapon in his belt and with bravado she copied him.

  He took a signaling lantern up to the battlements and waited patiently until he got his reply. He came back down, wrapped Tory in the wool cloak she’d shortened, and pulled a hat down over her eyes. “Don’t move farther away from me than pissing distance.”

  They left Bodiam and rode at a measured pace toward the village. Tonight nothing seemed to loom out of the blackness as it had the last time. The trees and buildings did not appear ominous; they were merely dark shadows touched by silver.

  Once again riders fell in behind them, but Tory knew there were only a few, perhaps four by the sound of the muffled hooves. As they approached the sea, the rising mist swirled about their horses’ hocks and when they reached the marsh, the tide was so low, the animals’ hooves hardly made a splash.

  The fog will make it difficult to find the crates. Tory refused to become alarmed, even though she realized the small number of boxes might be hard to locate in the vast marsh.

  She saw two riders dismount and each lifted a pair of oilskin crates. When the others did the same, she realized that Falcon must have wisely roped the boxes together so that the tide need make only one deposit. Falcon dismounted and hooked two crates to Bess’s ropes, then he counted the boxes to make sure they had all twelve and gave the men a thumbs-up.

  Tory was relieved that the operation had taken such a short time and that her pony didn’t need to be burdened tonight. They fell in line behind the other riders and left the marsh. She thought she heard the sound of hooves behind her in the distance, but when she turned she saw that the sea mist had risen to shroud everything. At the same moment she looked back, Falcon firmly took hold of her reins and led her into a line of trees. He heard it, too!

  He did not quicken their pace, but held at a steady gait. Tory strained her ears to pick up the drum of hoof-beats, but all she could hear was the thunder of her own heartbeat. She noticed that the tree trunks were now closer together and knew Falcon had moved inland from the coast and had made his way into the forest.

  Her eyelashes were covered with drops of mist and when she licked her lips, she tasted fear. Falcon let go of her reins and gestured for her to ride in front of him. Victoria shivered.

  Suddenly, a shot rang out and the explosion made her almost jump out of her skin. She quickly covered her mouth to keep in the scream that was fighting to escape. Falcon stopped, turned in the saddle, cocked his pistol, and fired into the fog. An answering shot came almost instantaneously.

  Tory’s every instinct told her to bolt; instead she followed a bold impulse and drew the pistol from her belt. Her hand shook like a leaf, so in a flash she passed the pistol to Falcon, whose eager fingers seemed to be waiting for it. He cocked it, fired, and shouted, “Go!”

  In less than a minute he was beside her and had taken her reins into his control. Falcon led Bess and the pony out of the trees so they could gallop hell for leather. Either his ball hit its mark, or we’ve outridden them.

  Tory found nothing exciting about their ordeal. She had never been more afraid in her life. She had no idea where she was and placed all her trust in Falcon. She silently prayed that their mounts would get them back to the castle without stumbling.

  At Bodiam the portcullis was up and they rode straight through. Within minutes all the men who’d gone on the run arrived. Without dismounting, Falcon ordered, “Drop your crates into the moat.”

  It suddenly occurred to Tory that one man was missing.

  “Any sign of Dick?” Falcon asked tersely.

  All four riders shook their heads. Falcon nodded and they left. “Tory, fetch Mr. Burke.”

  Something has gone wrong. The man called Dick has been shot or taken. Tory dismounted and ran to the castle to get Burke. When they returned, Falcon was inside the stable, where a groom had unloaded the pair of crates from Bess. Falcon stood leaning against his horse. Tory’s heart began to race; instinctively she knew the trouble was much closer to home. “Falcon!”

  He held up his hand to stop her questions and smiled at Mr. Burke. “I’m afraid you are going to have to help me, my friend.”

  That Hawkhurst needed help from anyone and worse, that he was asking for it, sent Victoria into a panic. God Almighty, what’s wrong? Though every instinct screamed denial, she knew what was wrong. It had happened when he had made her ride ahead of him to shield her. Falcon has been shot!

  CHAPTER 9

  Tory relieved Falcon of the pistols and Mr. Burke placed Falcon’s arm around his neck to take most of his weight. When they reached the tower, Burke picked him up and carried him all the way to his c
hamber. He sat Falcon down on a wooden chair and knelt to remove his boots.

  Tory set the pistols on his desk, threw off her cloak, and moved toward Falcon on unsteady legs. He helped her to remove his doublet, then, with tremulous hands, she took off his black shirt. She let out a long relieved breath when she saw no wound on his chest and no blood.

  Falcon smiled to lend her courage. “I’m sorry, love. I took a ball.” He gestured toward his back.

  Burke was already at the door. “I’ll get hot water.”

  Victoria was terrified to look at Falcon’s back, but she had no choice. She lowered her lashes to mask her fear and moved behind him. High and just to the left of the center of his back, a black hole bubbled and oozed blood. How in the name of God did you ride like the wind and manage to stay upright in the saddle? “You must be in agony,” she murmured.

  He shook his head and smiled.

  “It hurts when you speak!”

  Again, he shook his head. “When I breathe.”

  “We’ll get the ball out!” The words were to reassure herself as much as Falcon. She poured some brandy and held it to his lips. He managed to swallow some and she saw the gratitude in his eyes. She took his pulse. Though it was a bit rapid, it was strong.

  “It missed your heart, Falcon,” she assured him.

  Mr. Burke returned with a bowl of scalding water, some clean linen towels, and a long metal instrument. She immediately knew it was to probe Falcon’s wound for the lead ball.

  She took the towels and spread them on the bed, then she and Mr. Burke helped Falcon move from the chair to lie prone on the bed. Burke gripped the instrument firmly and as gently as he could, inserted it into the frothing wound. She was appalled at how far it went in. Falcon did not cry out, but he coughed.

  Mr. Burke groped about with the instrument, listening carefully for it to strike metal. Neither of them heard anything. “His heartbeat is strong,” she assured Burke.

  After a long drawn-out minute, Burke shook his head. Tory glanced fearfully at Falcon’s face and saw that he had passed out. She blotted up the blood that was running more freely now. “Would you like me to try?”

  “Yes—do it while he’s unconscious. I cannot locate the ball.”

  She took the impaling instrument in her hand and by sheer dint of will forced herself to stop trembling. “Forgive me,” she whispered and slowly inserted the probe to gently explore the wound. Her heart was in her mouth as she held her breath and continued the search. In spite of Tory’s best effort, it was in vain. She shook her head at Mr. Burke, who took the instrument from her. She closed her eyes and tears seeped out from beneath her lashes.

  Falcon coughed and it made him regain consciousness. They saw blood on his lips and both she and Burke instantly realized he would fare better in an upright position.

  With tender hands they rolled him onto his right side and then propped him up with bolsters and pillows. Tory wadded up a linen towel and slipped it between the bubbling wound and the pillows.

  “You couldn’t get the ball.” Falcon covered her hand and spoke slowly so he wouldn’t cough. “It tore into my lung.”

  “Falcon, no!”

  He waved away her protest. “If Drudge caught Dick, the game may be up. The captain may be on his way here.”

  “I’ll go down and delay him if he comes.” Burke took the bloody towels and the probe and Falcon’s doublet and shirt.

  After he left, Tory stripped off her boy’s clothes and put on her corset and drawers. She put on her jade earbobs because she felt naked without them. Then she came back to the bed and bathed Falcon’s face and wiped the blood from his lips. Her heart was in her eyes. “What can I do to ease your suffering?”

  He shook his head and said simply, “Just love me.”

  “Oh, Falcon, I do. I love you with all my heart and soul.”

  Pandora pushed open the chamber door and came to investigate what was wrong. The leopard dropped a small leather pouch on the foot of the bed and moved to Falcon’s side.

  Tory opened the pouch. “It holds gold coins.”

  “She guards a hidden treasure.” His breath was labored and he continued slowly, “I want you to have it.”

  “No! It’s your treasure.” She wiped his mouth and couldn’t hide her panic.

  “Get me a handkerchief, I’ll do that.”

  She brought a linen handkerchief and tucked it into his hand.

  “They’re solid gold reales I marauded from a Spanish galleon. There’s a large iron chest of them.” He began to cough again.

  “Did you sink the galleon, Falcon?” she asked with dread.

  He shook his head. “She sank on her return voyage, though.”

  Pandora moved to the door and began to growl in her throat. Her tail began to lash from side to side.

  “Someone’s coming. Someone who’s a threat,” Tory cried.

  Falcon gestured toward the door that led to the ramparts. Tory called the leopard and locked her outside where she would be safe on the roof. He then gestured for Tory to get into bed. Almost overcome with fear, she obeyed him.

  They heard voices coming from the tower staircase. Mr. Burke was protesting loudly that Drudge had no authority and was intruding. The captain of the militia insisted he had every authority when he suspected a crime had been committed.

  Mr. Burke opened the chamber door. “I’m sorry, Your Lordship.”

  Drudge stared with bulging eyes at the couple in the bed.

  Falcon, reclining against a bolster, drawled, “Our secret’s out. The captain has discovered you are not my sister.” He coughed and dabbed his lips with the handkerchief.

  “Captain Drudge, what in the name of heaven are you doing?” Victoria blushed up to her eyebrows.

  “We shot a smuggler . . . perhaps more than one. I lost one of my militiamen.”

  Falcon raised an aristocratic eyebrow, as if to say, “What the devil does that have to do with me?”

  “I suspected they were bringing contraband to Bodiam.”

  “You suspected wrong. Good night, Drudge.”

  The captain backed out and Mr. Burke firmly closed the door.

  “Oh God, he suspects you, Falcon!”

  “That’s rather moot.” He coughed and she jumped out of bed.

  “Please don’t say that. Don’t give up,” she pleaded.

  “I’m a realist.... Don’t be upset.” He coughed again.

  “Don’t talk; it makes you worse.” She heard Pandora scratch at the door and opened it for her. The leopard stalked about with raised hackles, then when she found Drudge gone, she calmed.

  In a short time, Mr. Burke returned. “The captain has left. I pointedly reminded him you had friends in high places, my lord, and that you valued your privacy above all things. I doubt he’ll be back tonight.” He spoke to Tory. “Call me if you need me.”

  He was almost out the door when Tory picked up her boy’s clothes and followed him. “I think you’d better burn these.” She went out with him and closed the door. “Mr. Burke, I’m afraid. Falcon is talking like he’s going to die!”

  Burke looked at her with compassion in his eyes. “My dear, he is going to die. His lung has collapsed; that’s why his wound was bubbling air. He is slowly hemorrhaging. In a few hours, it will fill with blood, and, sadly he won’t be able to survive.”

  Tory found she could not speak, but she nodded her understanding. She went back to the bed and pulled up a chair. On the inside she was a seething mass of fear, dread, and panic. How will I bear it? What in the name of God am I going to do without him? Firmly, she pushed aside all thought of the future. She had him for the next hours and that time was infinitely precious. She calmed and showed him only serenity and love.

  Falcon closed his eyes and seemed to sleep, but his breathing was labored and occasionally he gasped for air. Tory’s gaze never left his face. She memorized every line: the shape of his raven-wing eyebrows, his straight nose and flaring nostrils, the laugh lines around his
dark eyes. She studied the scar that stretched from in front of his ear to his jaw. It had healed well and when she thought of how stoic he’d been while she stitched it, the lump in her throat threatened to choke her.

  Sometime in the long, dark hours between midnight and dawn, Falcon stirred and had a coughing spell. When it was over, he asked for his ring. He patted the bed and she knew he wanted her to lie next to him. Tory carefully slipped under the covers and propped herself against the pillows, facing him. She clasped his hand possessively and tried to put his ring on his finger.

  “You made a long journey, Tory. Thank you for coming to me.”

  She squeezed his hand. “You taught me that life is joyful. I’ve cherished every single moment.”

  He struggled for breath. “You proved there is no such thing as time. Keep my seal ring. I’ll find you again, Tory.”

  She slipped the gold ring onto her thumb. “I won’t let you go, Falcon.”

  He gasped and she had to listen very closely to his words. “Love is more powerful than death. I’ll find you no matter where you are.”

  “I’ll be right here, Falcon. Always. You are my soul mate.”

  The lovers spent the next hours touching, but not talking. The silence was broken only by Falcon’s gasps for breath.

  As dawn began to lighten the sky he gripped her hand. “Tory . . . you . . . are . . . going . . . to . . . have . . . to . . . let . . . me . . . go. . . .”

  I cannot! I cannot! She drew in a shuddering breath. Think about him, not yourself, Tory. She leaned over and kissed his brow. “Au revoir, darling.”

  Her eyes flooded with unshed tears, blurring his face. Falcon drew his last shuddering breath and her tears overflowed and ran down her cheeks in rivulets of sorrow.

  Tory’s mind drifted away to a happier time, to a place where her heart didn’t ache and she wasn’t alone. She had no idea how long she remained in a suspended state, but Pandora got to her feet and began to growl deep in her throat.