Midnight Capers

by Rebecca King

  Dean immediately fell to his knees beside her and checked for breath. “She is alive,” he gasped. “Damn it all to Hell,” he snarled, swiping rivulets of river water off his face so he could see her more clearly.

  “Wrap her in this,” Hamish ordered, dropping his cloak over her.

  “She needs to get out of those clothes,” Roger growled, looking all about them. “I think we are about three miles away from Lockley.”

  “We are closer to Sprankley,” Joshua warned.

  “She isn’t going back there. That horrible group of women are what made her run,” Dean snarled, glaring angrily at his friend.

  Joshua studied the fierceness in Dean’s gaze and shared a shrewd look with Roger. While it wouldn’t be openly discussed just yet, they all knew what had happened between Pheony and Dean last night. What concerned all of them was that Dean might not have realised yet that he might be the reason why Pheony had run away from the tavern.

  “Pheony?” Dean called gently. He turned her face toward him, amazed by how much his hand shook. She felt cold, but then so did he. However, she was colder to the point that her lips were blue, and she was no longer shivering.

  “We have to get her warm.” Roger’s immediate thoughts turned to Chandler’s Cottage in Brampton but that was several miles away. It was obvious even to him that Pheony couldn’t be outside for the length of time that it would take to get there.

  “Wickerstone is closer,” Luke offered. “She can go there. Rosemary will be able to help her. It is only another five minutes away. If we hurry, we can get her there within the next fifteen minutes. The doctor from Oakley Bridge can check her over.”

  He had barely finished before Dean had gathered her into his arms and was struggling to mount his horse.

  “Here, let me hold her while you mount up. I can slide her up to you,” Roger suggested. He winced a little when Pheony’s sodden clothing immediately dampened his shirt and stole his warmth but eventually lifted her onto the horse. The icy feel of her skin was a pert reminder that they really were going to have to race to safety. Roger contemplated whether they should just go back to the tavern. He would have probably insisted on it had it not been for the presence of Augusta and her children. “It will help if she wakes up somewhere that she isn’t familiar with,” Roger whispered more to himself than to his men. “Let’s get her back to Chandler Cottage. I know it is going to take us another fifteen to twenty minutes, but if we gallop, we can get there faster. She is cold, tired, but not seriously hurt. She just needs to get warm and dry.”

  The men set off for the Star Elite’s base. Dean held Pheony tightly against him. He didn’t stop to think about why Roger grinned at him as he galloped past. He was so focused on the young woman in his arms that he didn’t see the knowing looks his colleagues shared either. All Dean could think about was that he had come close to losing something precious. Despite his reluctance to make her a part of his life, he needed to know that she was safe, and well, and had somewhere warm and dry to stay.

  “How?” he whispered, a little dumbfounded at how much she had changed him in such a short space of time.

  “How, what?” Hamish prompted from beside him.

  Dean realised then that he had just said that aloud. He shook his head because he needed to mull his feelings over a little more before he discussed them with anybody. “This is such a mess,” he hissed. “It shouldn’t be like this.”

  “No, which is why she has to go back to Chandler’s Cottage,” Roger warned, throwing him a dark look. “And she has to stay there until we can get to the truth about why she would go to such dangerous lengths to get away from four loud and brash yet seemingly harmless women.”

  Dean was shivering by the time they reached Chandler’s Cottage. His toes were numb. It had been a while since he had last felt his fingers. But by the time he dismounted from his horse, he had made a few decisions. Yes, he was still reluctant to get involved with whatever issues Pheony had, but his colleagues wouldn’t allow her to return to the tavern and her guardian until they knew what Augusta was up to. Because of the morning’s events, he was embroiled in Pheony’s problems whether he wanted to be or not.

  “Damn,” he breathed, unsure if he should be annoyed or perplexed.

  Pheony chose that moment to look up at him. She had spent the last couple of minutes trying to remain perfectly still while she contemplated how she was going to get herself out of this new mess she was in. Whenever she heard Dean speak, which hadn’t been very often throughout the long ride across the countryside, the deep rumble of his voice reverberated through her. It was wonderful to be pressed against him so tightly again. She wished it could last, but eventually stiffness and curiosity about where they were going forced her to open her eyes and face her predicament.

  “Are you all right?” Dean knew the instant she woke up in his arms from her sudden tension.

  Pheony tried to sit upright only for the tight band of his arms to stop her.

  “You have to sit still, or you are going to fall off. We are nearly there.”

  “Why did you do it? Why did you come after me?” she demanded.

  “Would you have preferred it if I hadn’t?” He tried not to be hurt by the wariness in her eyes but then given how unconcerned he had seemed when he had caught her dangling out of the window, he couldn’t blame her for assuming he didn’t have her best interests at heart.

  “Yes,” she replied succinctly.

  Dean felt something in the centre of his chest tighten. “At least you are honest. Do you want us to take you back to the inn at Sprankley?”

  “No, why would I?” Pheony frowned. “Where is my bag?”

  “It was washed down the river,” Hamish informed her. “We couldn’t retrieve it, I am afraid.”

  Pheony stared at him. Her hand instinctively slid to the pocket tucked beneath her skirt. She slumped with relief when she felt the tell-tale press of coins against her thigh. At least her money hadn’t been washed down the river too. “Where are we going?”

  “To a safe house,” Dean replied. He stared deeply into her eyes. “Then we are going to talk, and you are going to be honest with me about why you are so desperate to leave.”

  Pheony couldn’t avoid it because she was pressed so tightly against him that she could feel the steady thud of his heartbeat against her. It was odd to feel awkward around him, especially given what they had shared last night, but they were still strangers. She knew little about him except for his name, that he was thirty, and had a scar running down the left side of his ribs which had been caused by a knife wound he had sustained in a street brawl while trying to arrest a criminal.

  “Here we are.”

  Pheony gasped because she hadn’t been aware that they had travelled far, but the house they were at was completely unfamiliar to her. “Where are we?” she asked warily.

  “We are just outside of a small village called Brampton. It is several miles away from Sprankley.”

  “This is where the Star Elite are based. You are perfectly safe here,” Roger assured her. He dismounted and grinned when he saw Leonora peering through the window at him. The urge to rush inside to greet her was something he felt every time he returned home. He suspected he would feel the same reckless rush to see his wife even when he was in his nineties. For now, he had to content himself with a quick wave before ushering their new witness into the safehouse.

  “Roger.”

  Roger reluctantly tore his gaze away from the house he called home and turned to look at Dean. Before he could help Pheony down, she slid down from the horse. Dean lunged for her for the second time that day but wasn’t quick enough to stop her landing on her feet.

  The second her weight landed on her knee pain exploded down her leg. Pheony cried out and fell to the floor and couldn’t get back up again.

  “Jesus, go and get a doctor,” Roger growled at his men.

  “I am fine,” Pheony protested before anybody could move. “It is just aching.” />
  “Did you do that when you fell onto the barrel too?” Dean asked, nodding at the material she had wound tightly around her hand.

  Pheony nodded but couldn’t speak because pain made her lips pinched and her face pale.

  “Let’s get you inside,” Dean murmured gently, lifting her effortlessly off the floor. He carried her into the house, barely glancing at the stunning woman who rushed out of the neighbouring house to greet her husband. Roger was temporarily distracted by the need to greet his wife and youngest son, who was cuddled protectively against her side.

  “Who is she?” Leonora asked her husband softly as she watched Dean carry a beautiful young woman into the house as if she were the most precious person in the world. She lifted astonished brows at her grinning husband, who shook his head in disgust before busying himself with giving her a very thorough kiss.

  “I think that she is Dean’s lover, but I am not sure yet,” Roger drawled when he finally lifted his head. “Go back inside. Keep the baby warm. I will come and see you later. I may need your help, so don’t go too far.” He winked roguishly at her and issued her with a charming grin that left Leonora’s heart racing and a loving smile on her lips.

  Inside Chandler’s Cottage, Dean slid Pheony slowly onto a bed in a guest chamber. The moment that he hovered over her reminded them both of what they had shared last night. They both froze and stared deeply into each other’s eyes. Dean forgot what he had meant to stay. Something shifted in the shadows of her eyes that left him in no doubt that she was trying to forget what they had shared.

  Like I am.

  But regardless of what he wanted to do; Dean was left facing the truth of what he had done last night anyway. It was right before him. Pheony was only there because of his lapse in judgement, because of his mistake last night. He couldn’t blame her for him being a drunkard.

  “Tell me something, Pheony,” Dean began. “I have asked you this before but tell me again. Did Augusta or her daughters ever physically hurt you?”

  “No,” Pheony replied flatly.

  “Did she keep you a prisoner inside your home?”

  “No.”

  “And she is your legal guardian?”

  “For now,” Pheony replied.

  “And you were honest with me about being three and twenty.” It wasn’t really a question.

  “Yes, I was being honest with you. Why would I lie about something like that?” she asked blankly.

  “You are a little old to need a guardian, aren’t you?”

  “My father stipulated in his will that I was to have a guardian until I was five and twenty, or until I married,” Pheony replied.

  “Five and twenty?” Dean scowled. “What would happen if you married?” He regretted his question the second it passed his lips.

  Pheony’s cheeks turned a peachy colour. She ignored the wild thrill of excitement that fluttered around her heart. “Then my husband would effectively become my guardian,” she whispered. “If there is such a thing.”

  “I think you mean that a husband would look after you and a guardian would no longer be needed,” Dean whispered. He had no idea why he was whispering. There was nothing secretive about what they were discussing. He was going to have to tell his colleagues what she had told him when he went downstairs anyway. “Did your father mention the contents of his will to you before he died, or why he felt he needed to do something so drastic?”

  “We – I - have no other relatives. He knew that if he died there was nobody to look after me,” Pheony replied.

  “Why Augusta? Why do you think he chose her to be your guardian?”

  “Augusta claims that it is because she has three daughters of her own. She was married to one of my father’s friends, but he died about a year or so before my father.” Pheony sighed. “I have no idea why she agreed to it. She never liked me even when her husband was alive.”

  “Does she get to use your inheritance? Were you left any money by your father?”

  “Augusta has her own fortune from her husband. He was very wealthy when he was alive and left her everything,” Pheony replied. “My father arranged for her to receive a generous allowance every month for my upkeep and her time and trouble anyway, but other than that there is no benefit to having my presence in her house.”

  “Except for-” Dean pressed when Pheony hesitated.

  “It sounds churlish now,” Pheony sighed.

  “Go on.” Dean eased a hip against the bed but when he realised his position wasn’t all that comfortable, he settled into a more comfortable position beside her. “She was insistent that you attended her yesterday. Why?”

  “I am nothing more than a veritable maid to her and her daughters,” Pheony exclaimed. “I am sorry, but they were sucking the life out of me. I wasn’t allowed to speak unless I was told to or given permission to. Otherwise, I was constantly told to shut up. I was told what to wear, eat, how to think, what to say to people, how to behave. I was told that I wasn’t ever going to get married, and to fetch this and do that. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I were employed by the woman, but I never received a penny for the endless hours of fetching and carrying for her. The woman has wealth. She could afford a personal maid to go with her housekeeper and maids back at the mansion she lives in. I can’t understand why she feels she needs me under her roof, especially since her daughters hate me too.”

  Intrigued, Dean studied her for several moments. “Did she give you hand-me-down clothing?”

  “No, but what I had wasn’t of the same quality her daughters had. She claimed it was because of the miniscule allowance my father gave her for my upkeep.”

  “But you aren’t sure.”

  “My father was wealthy too,” Pheony muttered.

  “Tell me, does Augusta have any control over your inheritance?”

  “God, no. Father wouldn’t be that foolish. He wouldn’t put my wealth in the hands of someone like Augusta. I don’t really understand why he chose Augusta to be my guardian to be fair, or for so long. I can only assume that he had to seeing as she was the only female he knew, and one who already had daughters. But I think I would have preferred to live in an orphanage.”

  “Why?” Dean frowned. “Do you have any idea how stark life in an orphanage is?”

  “Do you?” Pheony challenged.

  “It must be difficult to live without any family who wants you or cares about you,” he scowled.

  “It is, especially when you are living in the middle of someone else’s family and seeing their closeness,” Pheony whispered. Strangely, she couldn’t remember having had that bond with her father when he had been alive. They had teased, and laughed, when her father had been at home, but there had never really been any real affection between them.

  “We need to understand why Augusta would agree to it. Like you say, if she has her own wealth and can afford a proper maid, there is no reason why she would even want you in the house, especially if she doesn’t like you. What I don’t understand is if she wasn’t hurting you and gave you a roof over your head and enough to eat, why you want to leave so badly.”

  “Is what I have already told you not enough? I want to leave because Augusta was – is – stifling. I wasn’t allowed any choice, any freedom to move. I was a shadow, a ghost.” Pheony sat upright and dragged herself over to the side of the bed. “You won’t understand. You have choices. You have a life. You have your freedom. When you decide to leave here you will get up and go and not think about what anybody else wants. It is impossible to expect someone like you to understand. I want to live. I need to feel alive. I want to know what it is like to be able to wear whatever dress I want, to eat whatever I want to eat, to decide each day what I want to do.”

  “But few people get to do that, Pheony. I know you think that I have freedom, but I work for the Star Elite. My life is dictated to me as well, but by criminals. Oftentimes I want to go home, or to bed, or to have something to eat, or take a quick nap, but I cannot because I must chase after this
criminal or look for someone the Star Elite have been hunting for. I may have the freedom to go wherever I need to go but it isn’t always somewhere I want to go.”

  “You don’t understand,” Pheony sighed. “You never could.”

  “So tell me. Make me understand. I can’t help you if you won’t tell me.” Dean heard the faint plea in his voice but knew it had no impact on her because Pheony’s spine was stiff, her shoulders were squared, and she was staring blankly out of the window even though he suspected she wasn’t seeing anything of the open countryside outside. Dean ran a frustrated hand down his face and realised then that he was wet. Further, that the bed they were sitting on was now also soaking wet too, as was Pheony.

  “You need to change out of those clothes and get into something warmer. I am not sure what Roger is going to do about this,” Dean warned her as he eased to his feet. He didn’t tell her that he was likely to want to return her to her guardian. “It might be best if you wait until you are five and twenty and you receive your inheritance to try to enjoy your freedom. At least you have some time to plan what you want to do with your life and where you want to live when you leave them next time.”

  When Pheony didn’t move or answer him, Dean slowly edged toward the door. He hated her reticence. He knew that there was more she wasn’t telling him but couldn’t find a way of getting the truth out of her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “She doesn’t trust you,” Joshua warned when Dean sat slumped at the kitchen table a few minutes later.

  Having taken a few moments to change his clothing Dean had tried to find answers, to try to remember as much about her mannerisms and their conversation and what they had shared last night. Anything might be significant. But nothing came to mind. Consequently, he couldn’t think of a way of getting her to trust him. It seemed mean to return her to the woman she was so desperate to leave but if there really was nothing else driving her actions than a need for freedom, Pheony had to go back.