Damn it all! When did Cat Campbell not act rashly?
…
“I have a confession to make to ye,” Cat said, her gaze connecting with the striking African princess whom she was determined to save. The court would demand a guilty traitor, and if Lord Stanton or his daughter could convince King James that Ekua was that traitor, she’d be tortured and killed.
They stood in the shadows of the royal stables. All the guards had been recalled into the palace, abandoning the animals. “A confession?” the princess asked in a whisper.
Cat stroked over the star blaze along Stella’s long nose. The horse whickered softly, and she looked back at Ekua. “Aye. Ye need to know… Before my journey to England, I had never ridden a horse but fleetingly, once. And…I am fairly terrible at it. Although, this sweet mare is Stella, and I am certain she will help us.”
The woman tipped her head as if studying her, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. “Your dark secret is that you do not ride.”
“I suppose it is one of several dark secrets, but aye,” she said, and slid into the stall to throw off Stella’s blanket to replace it with the saddle pad. “I thought ye should know before ye put your trust in me.”
Cat turned when Ekua’s hand touched her arm. The woman smiled. “I trust you, Cat Campbell. We are both not of this place or these people.” She looked to Stella. “And I trust my own talents for riding.” She let Stella smell her palm. “She is beautiful.”
“Perhaps ye should guide her then.”
“No, she is yours,” Ekua said and went to help with the heavy saddle. She worked efficiently, tightening the straps and securing the stirrups, and Stella was ready in just a few minutes.
The early sun had given over to clouds, and a dimness shrouded the area, but it wasn’t the same as escaping in the dark of night. Ekua draped a wide scarf over her head and shoulders, hiding her exotic coloring.
She followed Cat as she led Stella along the wall where the grass grew as if she were just taking her horse to nibble there. Charles had been expanding Whitehall before he died, and his project at adding more to the King’s Gate had stalled, leaving several open areas that were only lightly guarded.
“How do we get past those two?” Cat whispered as they spotted two of James’s guards near the closest opening into the streets beyond the castle.
“The child perhaps,” Ekua said and nodded toward a small opening through the wall where a girl waved.
“Mouse,” Cat said, handing Stella’s reins to Ekua so she could hurry over. Cat smiled. “Ye look well.” The child was clean, her cheeks pink, and the clothes that Jane had found for her were wrapped snuggly around her.
Mouse grinned back but then glanced over her shoulder, tipping her head as if beckoning someone. “Come on. She won’t call the guards.”
Cat snorted softly. “Unfortunately, the guards will be more interested in the princess and I than ye.”
“Princess?” Mouse asked, looking past her toward Ekua and Stella.
“Aye. I need to get her to a ship down at the docks, so she can sail back to her kingdom. Can ye help us get past the guards?” She lifted her gaze to a tall, slender boy with thin rounded shoulders who walked up beside Mouse. He hid his face, hands jammed in his pockets, eyes cast downward.
Mouse glanced toward the guards. “Only two? Michael and I can get them to chase us, and you can ride out.”
“Michael?” Cat said, eyeing the boy. Mouse had said Michael watched out for her, but she had bruises. Could the boy be hurting her? “Do ye speak?”
“Say something,” Mouse said, using her elbow to knock Michael’s arm. The boy looked up, meeting Cat’s gaze.
“Well, now,” Cat whispered, taking a moment to notice everything about the boy, who wasn’t a boy at all, but a young woman. But what was startling was her swollen lip that had dried blood along it. “Who cuffed ye?”
“Michael gets hit a lot because she won’t go with the lads who realize she ain’t a boy.”
“My name is Michaela,” the girl said, her voice soft as if she were used to whispering. “I go by Michael because it is a little easier to not be noticed. Mouse says you have a school up in Scotland, for girls.”
Cat glanced behind her where Ekua stood patiently talking to Stella as if it was a normal morning. She looked back to the hopeful two. “Aye, we have a school, and ye are welcome.” Although how she would get them there if Nathaniel wasn’t going to take them, she didn’t know, especially if helping the princess would cast Cat as a traitor. Just the thought of the long journey home, Nathaniel left far behind, made the heaviness in her chest deepen.
Mouse smiled broadly, turning back to her friend. “I told you she would help. Jimmy will not be able to find you way up in Scotland, and the lady says they have food up there and shelter.”
“I can work to pay,” Michaela said. “But I will not…whore.” She shook her head, and a braid slipped out from under her cap. She coiled it quickly, shoving it back up.
“No whoring. I promise,” Cat said. “Ye can work for the school to pay your way. Cooking and such.”
Mouse raised on the balls of her feet and back down. She looked ready to ride off to Scotland immediately.
“But first I have to get the princess on a ship. Can ye help?”
Michaela smiled, and her face lit up to reveal a beauty, despite her lip and the haunted look about her eyes. “When the guards give chase, slip out.”
Cat nodded. “Thank ye. Do not get caught.”
Mouse threw her arm through Michaela’s. “We never get caught.”
“I caught ye,” Cat reminded her.
“We ain’t picking their pockets,” Mouse said as they hurried off.
Cat walked sedately back to Ekua. “Be ready to ride. Our two friends are going to lure the guards away.”
“The Creator is with us,” Ekua said as they led Stella over to a mounting block.
Cat pushed up to carefully throw a leg over, her skirts rucking up. Ekua followed in graceful silence. “Are ye sure ye do not want to lead?” Cat asked as they waited. One of the guards yelled something, and she saw Mouse run around the second guard.
“Now,” Ekua said, and she pressed her legs in, clicking her tongue.
Stella took off, Cat’s eyes wide as they neared the open space that served as entry. She pulled Stella to the right to avoid the one guard who had stopped chasing the girls when he saw the horse barreling down on him.
“Halt!” he yelled, but Cat leaned forward, and Stella sensed that the man’s command meant to take flight, her hooves barely touching the earth as she raced out of the gates and down the cobblestone street. They galloped until the guards’ voices faded, and Cat slowed Stella, so they wouldn’t keep attracting attention from the many London inhabitants. Glancing back, she didn’t see Mouse and her friend.
“They are free,” Ekua said with confidence. “I am certain.”
She would return for them if they didn’t catch up but after she found a ship for the princess.
Cat breathed in the cold. Outside the gates of Whitehall, London felt even more cramped and crowded. The air, though moving, was not what Cat would call fresh, with the tang of human filth wafting in waves of dank breeze that snaked through the closely packed rows of houses. She looked down every street at the multitude of people and carts. Damn. She was completely lost in this city of stench and scoundrels. Wandering downhill, she turned to loop back around toward the Thames, hoping it would lead to the docks that Nathaniel had pointed out at the Frost Fair.
Her chest tightened, making her stomach roll. Should she have found Nathaniel first? Asked him for help? Or would he turn Ekua in to James, because his new position demanded it? Nay. Cat couldn’t imagine Nathaniel handing the princess over while the king still raged, determined to find traitors.
Bloody hell. She didn’t know what to do. Catherine’s words about forgiveness, working with Nathaniel in the gardens last night, and his apology had all taken the sting f
rom his betrayal. Self-forbidden tears pressed in her eyes, and she inhaled deeply. She’d been betrayed her whole life. Love would only hurt her again. Perhaps it was better if she left him here in London to journey home as quickly as she could.
Chapter Twenty
Cat led Stella behind her and Ekua as they hurried along the dock. The stench of sewer water and unwashed bodies made her nose itch. She wrinkled it. Lord how she missed the freshness and solitude of the Highlands. On this end of the Thames, barges pushed against the ice, cracking it so ships could sail down it out to the open sea.
Men and women moved along the planks and between the tall brick and timber warehouses, some laughing, some pushing carts of merchandise, others scurrying as if afraid to be seen. The ice cracked loudly over the voices, the sharp edges scraping the sides of the barges shoving them away from the docked ships. She could make out several sailors checking sails and ropes on the decks that were heavily loaded with cargo.
“One of these must be going to Africa, or at least the Continent where ye could find further passage,” Cat said, watching a group of muscled men lift a cumbersome wooden crate up a wide gangway.
“The tide looks high,” Ekua said. “They will be sailing soon.”
“Lo there. What are you pretty doves doing along the docks? ’Tis a grisly place for such lovelies,” a stocky man with a full beard asked as he stepped out from between two buildings. He looked at the horse like he was contemplating how much he could sell her for and blocked their path. Cat bent swiftly to draw the dagger from the strap at her calf and straightened.
“Ye do not want to delay us, sir,” she said, letting the muted light reflect on the polished blade.
He chuckled just enough to stretch the hairs on Cat’s nape high. Did he not think she would use it?
Beside her, Ekua’s voice came slow, her foreign words sounding like a prayer or chant. The man looked at her, the smile disappearing from his face. He rubbed at his bulbous nose. “What’s she doing?”
Cat had no idea. “She is putting a curse on ye, so if ye do not get out of our way, your jack is going to shrivel and fall off.”
“Curse?” the man said, crossing his arms. “I don’t believe in curses.”
Cat shrugged. “Either her curse will wilt your jack, or I will just cut the wee thing off.” She flipped her blade in the air, catching it gracefully. “Step aside,” she said, her voice low like the growl of a wolf about to attack.
The man frowned but stepped back into the shadows that fell heavily between the brick sides of two buildings. Up ahead several other sailors watched them but didn’t come forward. “Was that really a curse?” Cat whispered to Ekua as they walked on.
A small chuckle came from the lady. “’Twas a prayer that my mother would sing to me.”
“I am sorry I said it was a curse about his jack.”
Ekua smiled at Cat. “My mother would be proud to know her prayer saved that man.”
“It saved him?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder where he still stood, staring after them.
“Yes, for he surely would have perished had he not heeded your warning. And it would have delayed us.” Quite true.
Cat’s gaze wandered over the tall ships. Which one? Who to ask? Who to trust when she knew no one? “Do ye know a prayer for helping us pick the right ship?” she whispered, glancing at her friend. Perhaps Mouse and Michaela would catch up to them. They might know from living on the street which captains were honorable.
“We should both say one,” Ekua whispered back, though she stood straight, eyes forward without any outward sign of concern.
“Princess, are there women warriors where ye come from?” Cat asked as they neared one large ship where a man stood on deck, looking very much like a captain.
“Yes,” she said. “We have many.” Ekua nodded at her. “And you, Catriona Campbell would be welcome among them.”
Cat fisted her hand and squeezed. Escaping to another continent? She exhaled. Not with Izzy back home and now two girls depending on her, and the little kitten was waiting for her back at Hollings. “It sounds…tempting, but I cannot.”
Ekua smiled softly. “Of course not.”
“May I be of service?” came a deep, heavily accented voice.
Turning her gaze to the gangplank, Cat watched a man in a captain’s pressed jacket walk toward them. He held a lit roll of tobacco leaf between his lips, the end brightening as he inhaled.
“Where are ye bound?” she asked.
“Many places,” he answered, smiling. His teeth looked white in his tanned face, the face of a sailor. He wore no wig, his hair starting to gray at the temples. Clasping hands behind his back, he seemed to study Cat’s face, not in a roguish way but rather as if curious. Would he ask about her freckles?
“What is your home port?” Cat asked.
The man’s gaze slid to the horse and stopped on Ekua. “The colonies across the Atlantic, and the islands of the south, although I also go to Afrika to trade. Many unique fruits and vegetables to be had along the route.” He looked to Cat, and his smile reached his eyes, one of his brows arching. “And I sail to Scotland. I trade my spices and tobacco there.”
“Do you ever take on passengers?” the princess asked, her foreign accent soft and serene, completely opposite of how Cat was feeling.
The man nodded, tipping his jaw higher. “For the right price.”
His greed sounded honest. He stared at Cat, and something in the intensity made her shift in her stance. “I could carry you to Scotland, save you the long journey over land. I could have you and your friend home in a week’s time. I have business in Inverness before heading south.”
“We are looking for passage to Afrika,” Cat said, her mind churning. Could she go on the ship? Find Mouse and Michaela, and get them all on board? The gold Catherine had given Ekua would surely pay for all their fares up to Scotland and farther for the princess.
He glanced at Ekua. “Certainly.”
“Do ye have accommodations for female passengers? Comfortable and safe, away from the sailors?” Cat asked. The captain nodded, inhaling against the rolling between his lips, the end glowing red.
“I would be let off at the western port of Komenda on the African continent,” Ekua said, the name so exotic sounding that Cat longed to ask her more about her home.
“Would you sail that way?” Cat asked. “After going to Scotland?” She looked to Ekua. “We could send word for your brother to join you at the coast.” She cut a glance over her shoulder toward the building where the waterfront bustled, hoping to see the girls. Where could she find a runner to take word to Finlarig Castle? Could she pay to have someone carry the kitten north? Did they have enough coin to convince the captain to wait an hour for her to figure out the details?
“I am bound for ports all over,” the captain said with confidence. “With coin, I can adjust my course.”
She studied his bright eyes. Did captains adjust their courses after they were planned? She knew nothing of sailing. Behind them, several men let out rough laughter as they walked toward another ship along the docks. One made a rude comment about the princess and leered at Cat. The longer they remained out in the open, the more exposure to danger they would encounter here. And she wouldn’t be able to fend off a mob of ruffians or palace guards if they followed.
Two children, one short and one tall and slender with her cap pulled tightly over her hair, darted out from between two buildings. One of the many knots relaxed inside the large twisting that was Cat’s stomach. She waved to them, and they ran toward the ship.
The captain smiled and exhaled a thin line of smoke. “’Tis not safe here along the docks. My ship can protect you, both of you. Shall I clear rooms for two grand ladies?” he asked.
Cat looked at Ekua. She wasn’t yet ready to leave this great woman. She met the man’s bright gaze. “And a horse?”
He smiled broadly and tossed his rolled tobacco along the damp avenue. “I will see it done. Come
aboard.”
…
Nathaniel pressed Gaspar into a gallop through the London streets toward the docks. By the devil.
Anything could have happened to Cat by now. She’d had half an hour’s head start on him and had taken Stella. He hadn’t had time to teach her the proper way to seat the frisky mare. Cat and Princess Ekua could be lying unconscious in an open sewer ditch.
“Blasted hell.” He slowed so he could glance to the sides of the cobbled road as Gaspar carried him toward the docks. He cursed again. Cat didn’t know the types of ships at port, the pirates from the privateers, those dealing in the opium or slave trades. The men who sailed were often lonely and eager to take naïve women with false promises, trapping them once they were out at sea in situations where Cat would be forced to draw her weapons. But could she fight off a crew of twenty? Would she be forced to jump to a watery grave?
What the fok was she thinking? That I am an evil murderer of her father. “Shite,” he yelled, leaning low over the horse again. Why hadn’t he told her of his commission when she first spoke of Bothwell Bridge, explaining that her father was part of the rebellion and not just a Presbyterian wanting religious freedom? Even if it had infuriated her, even if he’d broken a vow to a king, would it have made the situation any less horrible and dangerous? But his silence on the battle had painted him as a vile villain in Cat’s heart. You are a villain.
His stomach clenched, his hands fisting in Gaspar’s mane as he rose up in the stirrups, urging the horse on. Even if she forever refused to speak to him, he’d make certain she was safe. Or he’d never inhale fully again.
A woman, stepping from her doorway, screamed, falling back inside to avoid being run down by the mighty stallion. London was teeming with people, animals, and obstacles, and the tide would be high, high enough to sail. Only the need to break up the ice flows along the Thames would delay ships from departing.
By now James would be furious that he hadn’t returned with Princess Ekua, and the guards at the gate would report that he’d flown from the grounds. Questioning the duchess would alert the king that Cat was involved in the princess’s escape, making them both look bloody guilty.
The Wicked Viscount (The Campbells) Page 28
