Passion's Series

by Adair, Mary

  Her fear took on a new dimension when Davie reached out and snatched the purse from the man's fumbling fingers. With a quick spin, her brother took off at a dead run. Bellowing out a curse the giant took up the chase.

  "What if he catches him?" Sara stammered past the lump in her throat.

  "'E won't." Tom answered. "Davie be the fastest runner I know. He 'as outrun better than that old drunk a thousand times. I wouldn't 'ave told him to do it if I thought 'e could be caught."

  Sara almost lost her grip on the roofing tiles as she tried to stand. "What? You told him to do that!"

  Tom fought for his own balance as he pulled Sara back down. "Stop that Sara!" He shook his sister. "We are 'ere to save Dawn. You knew you couldn't do that alone. Now 'ave a little faith in Davie and me like you asked Fredrick to 'ave in you."

  Sara shook as she spoke loudly, "Why?" She lowered her voice and fought for control. "Why did you tell Davie to do that and where is Mark?" She tried to steady herself as Tom took a quick survey of the street below to determine if they had been spotted. Davie and Tom had been on the streets most of their lives, she reminded herself. If anyone knew how to survive in this place, they did.

  Pulling herself forward, she looked over the edge. Five men came to the doorway of the warehouse they were watching. One of the men called out to the retreating back of his cohort while the other four laughed and slapped each other on the back. Satisfied that they had not been seen, she and Tom slowly slid back.

  "We need a—now what did Lord William call it ta other day? Oh, yeah, a diversion. We didn't expect 'im to be chased." Sara opened her mouth and he hurried on, "But it's good that 'e was. That makes one less in the warehouse. Davie will be just fine," he added with confidence and brotherly pride. "I don't know nobody what can outrun Davie."

  Even with the settling fog and smoke from the chimneys, she could see the cocky smile spread across Tom's face. "Now, do ye want to know what we found out down there?" he said.

  Sara swallowed the terror that threatened her resolve and nodded.

  "From peeking in the front window we could see crates stacked nearly to the ceiling. To anyone looking in from the window or doors, it would look like the building was full to tha rafters. Around the side we found a small window up high. I lifted Mark on me shoulders so 'e could get a look. And what do ye think? Beyond that first row of stacked goods the space is nearly empty. There is a small table set up where four of those blokes are playing cards. From there, they can see the front and keep an eye on Dawn at the same time. The other two were standing guard just inside the door."

  At the mention of Dawn's name, Sara's hands flew to cover her mouth. Tom gave her a warning look and then continued.

  "There be a small barrel a little way behind Dawn. It's filled with what looks to be a good amount of black powder. There's several crates beyond that what 'ave somethin' written on them, but Mark can't read so I don't know what they are. Piled high all around Dawn are bales of cotton, bolts of fabric and open crates of paper. And one more thing, there be a lantern ready to light very close to one of them bales of cotton."

  Sara slipped from her knees to land heavily on her bottom. She hardly noticed Tom's quick arm about her waist that kept her from sliding. Her head raced with too many possible versions of the villain's plan for Dawn to stay mindful of her own unstable perch. She rubbed her fingers across her forehead as she forced herself to think about things that threatened to break her control. "If that lantern were to be knocked over..."

  She heard Tom clear his throat. "Aye. The flame would burn hot enough to..." he stopped and Sara looked up.

  "It would take Dawn before it reached the gunpowder," she finished for him. "Once it reached the gunpowder and whatever is in those crates, the explosion would collapse the warehouse into the Thames. Anyone trying to reach Dawn would likely be killed as well." She held her head in despair. How could she and her brothers save Dawn from such a terrible fate? "What are they doing, Tom? What does all this mean? Is this Mr. Cloud's warehouse? Where is Mr. Cloud? I thought he was having it watched."

  "It's a trap." He pulled Sara's hands from her head where her fingers gripped her hair. He readjusted the ragged cap meant to hide her auburn bun. "This is not the warehouse used by Mr. Cloud. I'd say it was a smart move to set their trap so close to Mr. Cloud's own. Who would expect it? I don't know why Mr. Cloud is not 'ere, or how they got Dawn from 'im. I do know we can't just rush in. Even if we were armed and a match for those men, one of 'em could set that fire and no one could get to Dawn before we 'ad time to escape. We could all be blown into the Thames."

  "We have to do something," she whispered frantically. "Where is Mark? Why didn't he come back with you?"

  Tom's chest puffed out. "Now this is where ye come to know just how lucky ye are to have such smart brothers."

  Sara smiled in spite of her fear.

  Smiling smugly, Tom began his story. "Well, this is the whole of it. We piled up some empty crates what was sittin' around, so he could crawl into that window I told you about. He needed a diversion so he could get in without bein' seen. By now he's in there. He will go to Dawn and untie her, and if he can, do somethin' about all that black powder."

  "What can he do with the powder without them noticing?"

  "I don't know, but Mark thinks real good on 'is feet. He'll think of something. We just 'ave to give him time. Remember, once he unties Dawn, she'll be helping him. But doin' something with the powder is not so important after 'e gets 'er untied. The main thing is to get 'er out of there before they notice. Once we got Dawn, there'll be no stoppin' us from getting away."

  ***

  Dawn shifted to escape the point of a broken chair slat poking her into her back. A filthy blindfold hid the details of her surroundings, except those she determined by smell and sound. Rough hemp ropes bound her wrists behind her. She heard the squeak of a long closed window slide open. Her heightened senses detected rustling sounds from her right. The sounds were too much for a mouse or a rat. Someone was behind her. Whoever it was, it wasn't Raven. He would not make so much noise. She heard the sound of wood scraping against wood, then wrinkled her nose as an acrid smell drifted toward her. This was definitely not Raven. A floorboard cracked and she braced herself.

  She felt someone approach, bend toward her ear, and then whisper, "Are you all right, Miss Dawn? I'll have these ropes cut in a jiffy." It was Mark, from the stables.

  The tension left her body with a rush and she relaxed against the broken slats of the rickety chair. "Forget the ropes, take off this blindfold."

  For the first time Dawn saw her jail. She was in the back of a warehouse. Stacked crates blocked her view of the front, and her from any passersby who might look in. In a rush, she explained, "No, Mark, I said leave the ropes. They're loose enough for me to slip out of them now. I have no intention of leaving until I know who is threatening Raven."

  "Why?" he proclaimed in a rush. "We didn't see anyone else coming to save you. From what I 'ear, Mr. Cloud is missing, and your father and..."

  "Da? My Da is here?"

  "Well not here. He heard ye was missing along with Mr. Cloud and took off toward Dunmere to find ye. Now, please, let me finish with these ropes."

  When she refused, he whined, "I can't just leave you 'ere. No one 'as seen or 'eard from Mr. Cloud."

  "Which is exactly why I must stay right here until I find out what is going on." That was when she heard Raven's signal. "There." She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face as she twisted to look at Mark. "Raven! He's here!"

  Mark studied her face as if she had gone mad. "Here? Where? I don't see 'em."

  "And no one will," she told him. "No one will see him and no one will hear him, but mark my word, he will show himself when the time is right."

  A visible chill shook Mark's thin frame. '"Ow can you be so sure?

  "I know," she assured him. "The ropes are loose enough for me to free myself. Leave them and get out of here. Wait, put bac
k the blindfold, but not so tight as before. Now, go!" she hissed as the laughter of the men on the other side of the crates drew nearer. Mark darted back and left the way he'd entered.

  ***

  "How much time do you suppose it will take to untie her and get out? Don't you think there should be something happening down there?" Sara scooted toward the edge and peered over. "Maybe some loud cursing and going on about Dawn's getting away?

  Concern crossed Tom's face. He lowered himself to his belly and joined Sara on the ledge. "Davie's diversion must not have lasted long enough. We need to think of something else to do to draw those dolts' attention."

  A bawdy laugh drifted upward.

  "You mean somethin' like that?" Sara answered sarcastically.

  Below them and a little way down on the same side of the street, stood three prostitutes under a street lamp. One of the women called out suggestively to someone named Frankie.

  Tom laughed softly. "Yes. I'd say those ladies will do nicely. Look at the plump one in the middle. Don't often see a healthy lookin' whore. Even if she is a bit long in tha tooth, I bet she gets their attention real good."

  In answer to Tom's prediction a skinny, orange haired sailor stepped into the doorway. "Oh, look 'ere, mates. Sally 'as arrived and she brought friends with 'er." He impatiently motioned for the women to come forward. "Who've ye brought with ye, luvie?"

  The other four men pushed their way through the wide doorway and their lewd taunts began.

  "Our prayers be answered, little brother. Look." Keeping her arm down, she pointed to the caterwauling men, "They have left Dawn unguarded. Mark should have her untied and out of there in no time. Never thought I'd be so happy to see a bunch of trollops."

  "What's the matter, Sally? You liked us well enough last night," came a whine from below. "Be a luvie an' come 'ere."

  "Oh, poor little Frankie boy. You should 'ave been better last night. You didn't pay me what ye promised. I just want you blokes ta see what yer missin' out on tonight."

  The three women struck posses so embarrassing to Sara that she looked away. Tom chuckled appreciatively, then grunted as her sharp elbow struck him squarely in the ribs.

  The sounds of begging drifted upward. "Ah, come on, Sally. Bring your friends in and I promise you, ye won't regret it."

  Sara found the exchange so fascinating she had to look back. The plump whore stepped forward. She patted her long white locks and wiggled suggestively. "Look at that wig," Sara whispered in awe. "She must have dug it out of some Lady's rubbish." She squinted her eyes and looked harder.

  Putting her hands on her ample hips, the prostitute rolled her shoulders forward, pushing her breasts to strain impressively against her very low neckline.

  Tom's reaction was as shocking as Frankie's was enthusiastic. "Bloody 'ell!" Tom burst out before he clamped a hand over his mouth and rolled over onto his back. Sara watched him in stunned silence as his feet batted the air while choked snorts whistled past his fingers.

  "You just watch your mouth!" Sara scolded in a terse whisper.

  "Who might this luvie be?" Frank asked amid the hoots of appreciation.

  Tom, who was struggling for control of his mirth, fell into a new round of merriment. Dislodging his tenuous hold, he slid a few feet down the far side of the roof and had to crawl up again while trying to contain gasping giggles.

  Sara turned her attention back to the street below.

  "I be the best ye'll ever 'ave," came the answer. Tom choked back a laugh.

  Sara studied the woman below with interest. The white haired wig, though a bit mussed, seemed to be in better condition than someone would expect if in possession of a common trollop. Her makeup was so flamboyant it was easily seen, even in the distance, yet it seemed to be applied with better care.

  The woman patted her white hair once again and then ran her hands down both sides of her brightly colored bodice. "Course I don't give me favors ta just anyone."

  Sara's eyes rested on the orange and yellow striped bodice and a twinge of recognition stirred in her chest.

  "I be a special lady and I expect ta be treated in a special kind of way," the frumpy lady continued.

  "Bloody 'ell!" Sara burst out. "Lady Gaylord!"

  Tom, who had just regained his position, lost his grip to slide down again, just as Mark's head popped up over the edge.

  "Hey, what you two doin'?" Mark complained as he quickly dodged Tom's rapidly approaching feet. Avoiding the collision, he pulled himself up and helped Tom catch his grip.

  Sara breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the Lord you're back. Let's get Lady Gaylord and get back home before they realize Dawn is gone."

  "We have a slight problem."

  Tom's merriment fled as Sara gasped. "What problem?" She looked past Mark. "Where's Dawn?"

  Mark dropped his chin. "She be in the warehouse still." His brows drew together and he looked up. "Where is Lady Gaylord?"

  Tom tossed a thumb over his shoulder to indicate below.

  "What do you mean, she's in the warehouse?" Sara tried to control the pitch of her voice, which she knew was growing louder. "Isn't there enough racket goin' on down there for you to get her out?"

  Mark blinked rapidly as a familiar voice distorted into the high-pitched cockney brogue of a prostitute floated upward. "One of you blokes make like a gentleman and go fetch us ladies a nice bit of tea."

  With only a moment's hesitation, Mark scrambled to the slippery ledge and peeked over. "Bloody 'ell!" His next whispered explanation was lost in the bawdy laughter from below.

  "What?" Sarah jerked around. "What did she just say? Did she just ask for tea?"

  Tom chuckled. "She sure as 'ell did. She's quite a woman, that Lady Gaylord," he answered with awe and no small amount of appreciation.

  Sara looked with wonderment at her brother. "There be no tea down here. The tax alone makes it impossible for the likes of these people."

  "Don't ye know nothing?" he said. "Smugglin' tea is a very profitable business."

  Frankie snorted in disgust. "Tea! What use do ye 'ave for tea? You think just because the tax is so high and it's now a smuggled good it be worth tha trouble? Let the rich old cronies 'ave it, I say. Now quit your prissin' about and get in 'ere."

  Sara pulled Mark back from the ledge. "Why is Dawn still in the warehouse?"

  Tom scooted closer. "Ye told me ye could get 'er out. What happened?" he demanded angrily.

  "Stop it." Sara placed a hand on each of their arms. Things were getting worse and worse. She had to think. Dawn was still in the warehouse. Lady Gaylord was in the street below standing under a street lamp advertising what wasn't for sale. What could possibly have happened to Mr. Thorton? Things were rapidly going out of control.

  "I'll just have ta go and get 'er out meself." As Tom slid down, his retreat was halted by Sara's firm grip on his collar.

  Tom choked and gasped for breath as he struggled to back his way up the slick roof.

  Sara addressed Mark without turning loose of Tom's collar. "Tell me what happened, Mark. Why didn't you bring Dawn out?"

  "She wouldn't come." He threw up his hands as if to ward off an attack. "I swear 'tis true. I loosened 'er ropes and she made me leave. Said I wasn't ta let those blokes know we was 'ere, and she had to find out who was tryin' ta kill Mr. Cloud."

  Mark paused to listen to the suggestive conversation taking place on the street below. "Ah, come on, luvie. Be a dear and fetch me my fancy. I promise ye the best night of yer life."

  Mark nodded toward the edge of the roof. "Ah, Sara?" he asked hesitantly. "That .. .lady down there —"

  Sara hastily covered his mouth. "Is creating a much needed diversion and we will never speak of this after tonight. Is that understood?"

  Both boys nodded in agreement.

  ***

  Something drew Dawn's captors to the front of the warehouse. She heard happy chuckles and the chairs scraped across the floor. Dawn slipped her wrists from the loosened ropes, snatche
d the blindfold from her face and dropped it to the floor. She flexed her numbed fingers as she assessed the damage caused to her wrists by the rough hemp. Fresh blood oozed from the rude lacerations.

  She had been here three days...three days of waiting and not knowing what could have happened to Raven. Three days of rough hands occasionally shoving a piece of stale bread into her mouth or pouring a few precious drops of water down her throat.

  Most humiliating was the twice a day trip down rotted steps to a small damp room where she was allowed a few moments of privacy, without blindfold or bonds, to relieve herself. When she asked why the blindfold, knowing that she was in a warehouse, her captors laughed. She believed it was to keep her from learning the identity of the one the others referred to as the chief. Dawn had no hint as to who the mastermind was behind all this. From what she heard, her captors were constantly on the lookout for the chief to show up.

  She whispered a short prayer of thanks that Raven had arrived. As comforted as she was to know that Raven was near, she was also frightened. She'd heard his signal only once. He'd not signal again. He was doing what a warrior would do, what she did.

  He would wait for the right moment.

  She hastily retrieved her blindfold, slipped it back in place and put her hands behind her back just as the chortling men sauntered around the crates. She heard them shuffling the chairs she had seen placed around a small table.

  "How 'bout a drink in old Alex's honor." One of the men spoke with an abundance of mirth. The others joined in, slamming their mugs together with a loud clank. "He always was too soft on stray dogs and waifs."

  The men continued on with their comments at Alex's expense until they heard giggling calls from outside.

  "Well, I'll be, if that ain't Sally back for another round. And after Frank short-changed 'er last night, too. Hey, did ye 'ear that? Sounds like she brought some friends." Chairs crashed to the floor as the men jumped and rushed around the crates.