Claiming His Defiant Miss

by Bronwyn Scott

  ‘Liam, I have had enough of this! You can’t just go about hauling me off the street because I was a few minutes late and you absolutely have to stop pretending everyone you meet is trying to abduct me—’ The last word died in her throat. This man wasn’t Liam. Her gaze drifted over his shoulder to the right, where a hulk of a man stood, blocking the street from her gaze. He wasn’t Liam either. The coldness of fearful realisation settled in her stomach. She didn’t know these men, but she knew who had sent them.

  The man pressing her to the wall gave a harsh laugh. ‘Boss was right, Casek’s with her. She must be the one, then.’ He turned his attention to her, every gap-toothed, foul-breathed ounce of it, his eyes dark and beady. ‘Seems no introductions are needed. We know who you are and since you’re with Casek, you know who we are.’ He leered. ‘No one told us you were so pretty, though. I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you. Burt, tell her what the plan is.’

  The big one at the alley entrance swore. ‘No names, Ivar.’ He grunted. ‘The plan is simple. You’re coming with us for a little visit with the boss. All you need to bring are the ledger papers. We know you have them. Casek wouldn’t be here otherwise.’

  Not quite true, May thought, adrenaline fuelling her brain to high levels of activity. Liam was here to protect her because Roan wanted her for leverage against Preston. If she had the papers, all the more power to Roan, but Roan would want her regardless—something to trade for his own freedom and the return of the ledgers. If she couldn’t protect herself from Roan, she could at least protect the papers Preston had risked his life for. ‘I am Preston Worth’s sister, but I don’t know anything about papers or ledgers.’ She put on her best perplexed, scared female look, buying time. These men didn’t look terribly smart.

  Surely Liam would be worried that she was late, surely his gaze would have been riveted on the button-shop door watching for her. Unless they’d already got to him? Was Liam lying hurt somewhere? Dead somewhere? She couldn’t dwell on those thoughts, but neither, she realised, could she depend on Liam to charge in and save the day. What had he told her the day he’d swept her off the street? No one had seen it happen? Had he, too, not seen it?

  ‘Best check, Ivar,’ Burt suggested with a leer. ‘She could be lying. If she’s not, we’ll go out to the cottage and we can all get better acquainted.’ That leer left no mistake as to what the nature of the acquaintance would be. ‘I don’t think she likes you, Ivar. Maybe she’ll change her mind when she sees the size of your—’

  May brought her knee up. It was time to fight and her knee took Ivar hard in his supposedly large male parts. These bastards weren’t getting close to her, to the cottage, to Bea or the baby. Ivar went down with a cry, but she had no time to get the pistol out of her pocket. Burt was on the move. She grabbed the apples from her basket and threw them rapid fire, anything to delay him, to keep him from getting close to her. Distance was her only advantage against a man who outweighed and outmuscled her, distance would give her time to get her pistol out.

  She had the gun free of her pocket at last. She brought it up, bringing his advance to a halt. ‘I will shoot.’ Her hand closed around the trigger, her mind willing her body to stay calm long enough to get a shot off. Surely at this near distance she wouldn’t miss. Surely she’d hit something, even though she was nervous.

  ‘May!’ A loud voice sounded from the open end of the alley, loud and deliberate, drawing Burt’s attention for a split second, a second that cost Burt. A knife flew, it found purchase and Burt went down, less likely than moaning Ivar to get up any time soon. Liam sprinted past the two fallen forms to reach her. She was shaking by then, glad for the strength of his arms. ‘May, give me the gun. Let me take it.’ He closed a hand over hers and pried her fingers loose, his tone low. There was danger and calculation in his eyes even as he soothed her. She was glad to give up the weapon, glad to let him take charge for a moment, her mind suddenly numb. Just do the next thing. Get out of the alley.

  Liam pushed her into the daylight of the street. ‘Can you move quickly, May? They’ll be down for a bit, but it won’t buy us much time. When they’re able, they’ll drag themselves back to Roan.’ His arm was about her waist, supporting her, urging her on as quickly as possible. ‘We need to get home quickly. Can you ride?’

  * * *

  The ride restored her sanity. She didn’t think about pulling a gun on Burt, didn’t think about the horror of being at the mercy of those two, or how close the danger had come, or how ruthlessly, immediately, Liam had thrown that knife with unerring accuracy. That was all in the past now. She only thought about what happened next: get to the house, grab the ledger pages, get Bea and the baby to safety.

  ‘How long do you think we have?’ May asked as they pulled the horses to a stop in front of the cottage.

  ‘Depends on how long they’ll let themselves wallow in their misery before facing Roan’s wrath. We might have an hour, but I want us out of here in twenty minutes, tops.’ Liam called instructions over his shoulder, already striding towards the barn. ‘It’s all the time I’ll need to tack both horses.’

  Twenty minutes! Her mind was a whir. The letters, a change of clothes, any money she could find, Liam’s things, some food. There was so much to do! ‘Bea, we have to go!’ she cried, racing through the house, trying to use her time without panicking. ‘Grab Matty’s things.’ She tossed pieces of the story to Bea as she packed frantically. Roan was here, he’d tried for her in village, they would come here next.

  In the yard, Liam held both horses impatiently, barking orders. ‘Bea, can you ride long enough to get to the Maddox farm? You’ll be safe there.’ He stuffed a small leather bag into Bea’s hand. ‘Money to get you through.’ Then he tossed her up on the horse and handed the baby to her. ‘It’s not far and this big guy is tired. You should be safe enough. Go.’

  ‘You’re sending her away?’ May exclaimed as Bea moved the horse on to the road and headed to the Maddoxes, away from the village. There wouldn’t be a chance of her meeting Roan’s men going in that direction.

  ‘Yes, we are running for our lives now, May.’ Liam cupped his hands. ‘Up you go, we have to hurry. If we miss the ferry, we’ll have to take our chances on the road and I’d rather not.’

  She wanted to argue, to protest, but how could she? There was no other answer and yet part of her heart was breaking as she glanced once more at the cottage. It wasn’t even hers, it was rented from a Penrose relative of Bea’s, but she knew instinctively she’d never be back. To stay was to die. Roan would be furious now. All the fears Liam had warned of had come to fruition. Roan was here and he was hunting her.

  May closed her eyes for a moment, taking one last mental image of the cottage. So much was left behind, she hoped her freedom wasn’t one of those things. But she couldn’t stay, she could only go forward. With Liam. May grabbed for her courage as her horse sprang after Liam and the road.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cabot Roan bent and placed a hand on the bricks of the kitchen hearth. No heat, but definitely not cold. No heat from the coals either. The fire had been put out not long ago. He straightened, brushing his hands off against his trousers with a curse. Damn and double damn. May Worth had slipped through his fingers. If only Burt and Ivar had crawled back sooner, the snivelling cowards, never mind that Burt might very well still die from his wound. Casek was far better with knives than he was with swords.

  He checked his watch. Half past four. It was nearly evening by winter hours. Dark was already settling. He and his men would have to start out regardless and they’d have to split up. He had no idea if Casek would take her by ferry, or if Casek would take the road. Roan weighed the benefits. The ferry was direct, but tricky. Casek would be reliant on the ferry’s schedule and the tide. He might feel caged by those restraints, especially if he had to wait for the ferry to leave. While he waited, he and May would be trapped. They�
�d have to spend the night in the village unless they made the afternoon ferry. If they had, they were already on their way. If they hadn’t, they’d have to wait somewhere. Casek wouldn’t bring her back here.

  ‘Do you know the ferry schedule?’ Roan barked at his assistant. In his own mounting desperation, he’d driven his men hard, showing no quarter.

  ‘It sails twice a day, boss. Once in the early morning and then once in the afternoon at two o’clock.’

  Roan drummed his hand on the table. The ferry or the road? How good were the odds Casek hadn’t made the ferry? He ran through the sequence of events in his head. He’d got the report from bleeding Burt and Ivar at three-thirty. They’d encountered May and Casek around one-thirty. There’d been the altercation, after which Casek and May had come back here to evacuate Mrs Fields, to pack and to get those damnable ledger pages, no doubt.

  The horses were gone, proof indeed that they had come back and that they’d ridden to wherever they’d gone. If they had gone to the ferry, it meant a return to the village where someone would have seen them. There would be people who could confirm they’d got on the ferry. The ferry made them conspicuous even if it was faster. The road would make them more invisible.

  Roan considered the other option: the road. The road would mean a longer trek. It would take two days to reach Edinburgh and Casek would have to be more cautious than the usual traveller. He might feel compelled to slow down and take less open roads. Roan gave a cold chuckle. Perhaps that’s what Casek wanted him to think, that the road was the most logical choice. Perhaps Casek would risk the ferry after all. What a chess game this had become—thought and counter-thought. The game hadn’t ended with his arrival here, as he thought it would. The game had just begun. Casek was proving to be a most worthy opponent.

  Ferry or road, the next step was still the same. Roan strode through the house, his eyes taking sharp stock of everything left behind. It had all the signs of a Liam Casek getaway. Very little had been taken. Perhaps Mrs Fields harboured the belief she would come back and resume her life once the trouble had passed. She would be disappointed then. He hoped Mrs Fields had generous neighbours or relatives close to hand, because returning, even if she was an innocent bystander, was one thing he couldn’t allow. If Casek and the chit were close, he wanted them to know he was coming. Stealth was effective, but even more effective was fear. In a panic, people were more inclined to make bad choices. Nothing like a little fire and smoke to induce that sense of heedless flight. He’d rather have Casek on the road where he could flush him out without too many witnesses.

  ‘Men, take anything you find interesting. There’s clothes for your girlfriends in the bedrooms, pots, pans. Help yourselves, but be quick. No more than ten minutes,’ Roan called out, heading for the door. ‘Then, fire the place.’ He gestured to two men coming downstairs, arms already full of household items. ‘Peters, Smythe, take two others and start on the Edinburgh road. If they’re on it, they’ll have to stop for the night soon. I’ll take a group to the village and check the ferry.’

  It seemed an exercise in futility to check on a ferry that had already sailed. But at least he’d know. Even if he had to stay in the village tonight, he could cross over tomorrow morning and still be in Edinburgh before Smythe and Peters. It was the waiting he hated. He was a man of action and it galled him that Casek might be doing something while he was stuck here, especially if that something was finding a way to send those ledger pages safely to London.

  ‘Are you sure they’ll go to Edinburgh, boss?’ a man risked asking as his diminished group turned their horses back towards the village.

  ‘Very sure,’ Roan snapped without offering explanation. Casek’s first job was to protect May Worth, she was a prize with or without the pages to leverage against her brother. She alone would be leverage enough to drive Preston Worth to action. But if Casek was here, Roan felt certain it was because the pages were here, too. What better place to send them than to Worth’s sister who had disappeared from the London map?

  Ferry or road? The choice kept niggling at him as they made the trip to the village. Were there really only two choices? Sometimes it was good to narrow down one’s options to the most plausible. It saved time and money. Other times, it cost a man that same money and time. Eliminating options could blind a man to other avenues. Was there a third way? Something he was overlooking? He wouldn’t know until he started to eliminate the probable.

  * * *

  Damn! Liam swore in frustration, watching the ferry move out into the firth. In all probability, the chance of catching the ferry had been against him from the start, a game of minutes, and time hadn’t been on his side. They’d missed the boat and now there wasn’t another ferry until tomorrow morning. Beneath him, his horse sweated and huffed. He and May had raced the horses as fast as they dared to the dock only to come up short.

  His mind was doing the racing now, going through the options: wait until the morning ferry, or take to the road and invest two days on the run hoping Roan and his men didn’t catch them. He had his knives, his gun and May’s gun. How long would they last against Roan’s armed thugs? They’d take May alive, but he had no illusions how long he’d last. They’d kill him. Roan had been wanting to kill him for a while now, ever since he’d put the government on Roan’s trail in Serbia. It had taken four years to build the case against Roan. Staying in the village was a death trap. He didn’t think they could hide here until dawn. Even now, Roan could be on his way and they’d been seen. Discretion had not been part of their barrelling ride to the dock.

  ‘Is there another boat?’ he asked May, an idea coming to him as he scanned the busy wharf. Surely with all these boats there was one that would take them.

  May’s mare pranced nervously beside his stallion. ‘There’s only the ferry.’

  ‘No, not a ferry, just any boat? A fishing boat?’

  ‘The horses will never fit,’ May protested.

  ‘We leave them.’ He didn’t like the idea of leaving Charon and he knew May liked it even less. She’d been with her mare for twelve years. ‘I’ll get a boy to run a note to Beatrice. She can arrange to collect them later.’ Horses would do them little good in Edinburgh anyway. Hadn’t May said the fishermen were in port today, on a break between winter trips out to sea? The town had seemed busier than usual. ‘That one.’ Liam’s eyes landed on a smaller vessel. He swung off his horse. ‘I’ll go talk to the captain.’

  ‘Why that one? Why not something that looks a little bigger?’ May dismounted and took the reins, holding both horses.

  Liam flashed her a grin. ‘Because that boat looks a little more desperate than the rest.’

  It turned out he was right. For a little coin, the fisherman—captain was too exalted a title for the man who owned the boat—was happy to take them across. Liam couldn’t be sure that coin would also buy a dose of discretion, but he was more concerned with speed at the moment. He wanted May out of the village and if he had to point a gun at the man the entire way across he would. It had been a damned bloody day already.

  He found a boy and paid him to take the horses to the livery and to send word to Mrs Fields. He wanted to board and sail immediately. He was taking no chances of encountering Roan by going back into the village. Liam breathed a little easier once he had May on board and some distance between him and the shore.

  He couldn’t say the same for May. Her hands gripped the rail and her face was white. Not surprising considering the events of her day; she’d been attacked, evacuated from her home, and thrust towards a destination she had no desire to arrive at. She’d held up admirably all things considered. ‘I don’t like the captain.’ She bit out the words.

  ‘I’ll shoot him if there’s trouble.’ But he’d spoken too callously. He’d not meant to. He’d meant to reassure her. One desperate sea captain was the least of his worries and easily handled.

  ‘A
nd the crew? Will you shoot them, too?’ May kept her eyes fixed on the shrinking shore, but her thoughts were transparent. He’d tried to warn her last night, tried to explain what life was like with him, for him. Words could not adequately prepare one for the reality.

  ‘I hope I won’t need to.’ He’d picked this boat because the crew was small and he felt he could take the other three men if he had to. He hoped for no trouble, but one never knew, desperation being what it was—a double-edged sword and a bitch to boot. If this fisherman had been desperate, had the man also sensed his client was desperate, too? Desperation had a way of seeking itself out. If there was going to be trouble, it would be midway between ports where he and May would be most vulnerable. If it was them or the crew, Liam knew unequivocally what his choice would be. But May needed a different sort of reassurance.

  ‘I would never needlessly take a life, May. I never have. There’s always been a reason,’ Liam answered sombrely. ‘My line of work might require the elimination of opponents, but it has never required me to demote the sanctity of life.’ He reached for her hand. ‘In fact, I think it may have enhanced my respect for it. I’ve seen first-hand how fragile life is, how it might be ended at any moment.’

  ‘Like the man in the alley today?’ May said with quiet steel, her words not quite a challenge. ‘Will he die?’

  ‘He might,’ Liam answered honestly. The knife could have struck an artery and there was always the threat of inflammation and fever. ‘What would you prefer I have done? Let him harm you? Harm me and leave you defenceless?’ He squeezed her cold hand. ‘Those men assaulted you and intended to do worse to you in the course of doing their job for Roan,’ Liam answered matter of factly. ‘If it’s a choice between us or them, I’ll choose us, May, every time.’

  He’d been frantic when he’d realised she’d disappeared from the street. He’d been more frantic still when he’d caught sight of her in the alley, her pistol drawn, her hand trembling. Whether May realised it or not, she’d never have got an effective shot off. May should never have to fire a shot. Preston had put his sister in an untenable situation. Or perhaps he had. The thought that this was all his fault had lingered today. Perhaps he should have noticed the men sooner, should have gone looking for her sooner.