by Kim Allred
Once Murphy showed up—and Beckworth held no false notion he would; the man was worse than a bad penny—he might be just the man to rid the world of Dugan. All of Beckworth's worries would crumble like a house of cards if that single task could be accomplished.
He bit into the makeshift sandwich he'd made. He almost missed the BLTs the sisters had made for him. What had they made of his disappearance? A shiver ran through him. If he could last three months with those two, he could certainly spend a day or two watching the lovely backside of Miss Moore.
He'd just taken another bite when he heard a buzz. An arrow struck the tree behind him, inches from his head. Leaves, severed from their branch, floated around him. He dropped to the ground, his body crushing his sandwich as he scanned the area. And here he was, defenseless and bound. Where the devil was that woman? She'd ridden them right into some sort of an ambush.
When nothing else happened, he rose to one knee as he peered about. He turned at the sound of rustling grass, ready to dive for the ground. AJ strolled out of the trees, a bow and an unspent arrow at her side. Her wicked grin enraged him.
"Are you daft?" His screech echoed through the glade. "You could have killed me."
She simply nodded as she replaced the arrow in the quiver and strung her bow around it. Her silence disquieted him, and after retrieving a package of food and joining him on a nearby rock, she continued to ignore him.
"You aren't going to say anything? Perhaps apologize?" Her nonchalance irritated him more than her threat to shoot an arrow between his eyes.
She unwrapped her food, slowly chewed a thick slice of bread, and washed it down with water before running a sleeve across her mouth. "I haven't had a chance to practice the bow since being dragged away from my home. I needed to make sure my aim was still true." She placed a piece of cheese on a slice of meat and took a bite. "Besides, I'm still working on my accuracy at farther distances."
Beckworth stammered then shut his mouth until he could control the building rage. When the blood stopped pounding in his ears, and with a tone still underlined with stilted anger, he barked, "I'm not a bloody target."
She gazed at him with a coldness he'd only ever seen in Murphy. And that had been when Beckworth dangled the man's sister as bait.
"That's the point I'm trying to make. That's exactly what you are. You're only here for one thing—to help me determine if Maire is being held at Waverly. I want you to feel that bull's-eye on your back. If you run, I'll track you down. And one thing I can assure you—you won't see me coming."
Though there wasn't a hint of a breeze, Beckworth shivered as if a cold wind had swept through him. If he thought he'd only teamed with a feisty woman, one who'd gotten lucky with a dagger, albeit twice, he'd been wrong. He glanced down at his crushed sandwich and let it drop to the ground. The game had changed. He'd made a bargain with a pit viper.
21
After leaving the glade, Beckworth took the lead. When they approached the first town, AJ kicked her mount to move up next to him. They rode through town without slowing down, and AJ couldn't help but smirk. The man had been filled with a silent rage ever since she loosed the arrow.
She would never forget the look on his face when she returned with the bow. His handsome face pinched in purple rage. To be honest, she never felt so relieved. He would think twice before crossing her. Not that he wouldn't eventually.
When they first left Poole, AJ assumed they would sleep under the stars. The more she thought about it as she shifted in her saddle, the more she wanted the comfort of a bed, regardless of how lumpy it might be. That decision led to another problem. How would she deal with Beckworth and an overnight stay at an inn? Beckworth seemed to have been thinking the same thing as he slowed his horse for her to ride alongside.
"If we want to be inconspicuous, we should play the married couple and get one room." Beckworth gave her a wink, obviously pushing past his earlier irritation with her. If he thought to get a rise from her, he'd have to try harder.
"I agree." She urged her mount to a trot, forcing him to do the same.
"Aren't you worried about what Murphy will think?"
She snorted. "Hardly. It's obvious we have to share a room. How else can I keep an eye on you?"
He raised his bound hands and gave her a wink. "And what will the innkeeper think of the ropes? Or are we newlyweds?"
"I'll cut your bindings before we enter town. Don't worry, the innkeeper will have no doubt that it was an arranged marriage."
He laughed, but they continued their ride in silence.
AJ spent the rest of the day considering her options once they reached Waverly. While she plotted and planned, she knew Beckworth did the same. If he'd planned anything for that evening, he changed his mind. The evening had been uneventful. He played the respectful husband, ensuring the innkeeper's son took their horses to the stable for food and water. She kept her dagger close when she fell, fully clothed, into bed. Beckworth curled on the sofa in front of the fire.
When she woke the next morning and found him gone, she couldn't decide whether it bothered her. His escape wouldn't help her plan, but she was so eager to be done with him, she was almost thankful he'd run off.
She was finishing her sponge bath when Beckworth waltzed in with a tray. Though she was fully clothed as she wiped a washcloth under an arm, he had the good manners to turn away as he poured coffee and laid out their breakfast.
"I thought it best we eat in the room." He spoke over his shoulder as he sat with his back to her. "We should arrive at Waverly by midday."
She sensed his eagerness to get moving and, after brushing her unruly hair, joined him at the table. Breakfast was a simple meal of porridge and bread. When done, she sat back and studied him while he finished his second bowl.
"What's your plan?" she asked.
"We need to establish a base. Most everyone knows me in Corsham. That's the town just southeast of Waverly. I think we should try stopping by an old friend's house first. It's a couple miles west of Waverly. We need information before we can proceed."
AJ munched on a slice of freshly baked bread then savored the strong coffee. She finally nodded. What he planned made sense. "Then, once we're settled, we'll sneak in for reconnaissance."
He perked up. "Exactly."
"And why don't you just ride up to the front door?"
Beckworth set down his spoon, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and studied her. Would he tell her the truth or some fabrication? How would she know the difference? But she suspected he'd stay somewhere in the middle, telling her just enough to garner her cooperation.
"I suspect that Dugan has his men guarding the perimeter." He sat back, his mug in his hands, and despite his worn and wrinkled clothing, and the meager surroundings, the two of them could be back at Waverly. Only at that time, they had been glaring at each other, rather than planning a joint reconnaissance mission.
"Dugan?" She felt the blood leave her face. They had suspected he might be involved. She had hoped otherwise. "What makes you think he's involved?"
He shrugged. "If Maire has been kidnapped, and we assume it has something to do with the stones, Dugan makes the most sense. He was close to the duke and knew how the stones worked."
Maybe she should have accepted Jamie's offer to send someone with them. If it was Dugan, one additional man wouldn't help. She would have to reconsider her plan—as soon as she came up with one.
He held her gaze. "While you might think Dugan and I are of the same mettle, you'd be wrong. Dugan was never my man; he was the duke's."
Could that be true? She wanted to believe he was lying, but allowing the thought to sink in, she somehow knew it was the truth. Beckworth was a manipulator and a liar. A man only willing to play the game if there was something of value to gain. But the look of distaste that slipped across his face each time Dugan's name was mentioned appeared to be a subconscious response. Like the way his upper lip curled when he was angry.
"Dugan was sent by t
he duke when I first took possession of Waverly. I'd assumed the duke sent him to help organize the few men I had employed for security. When the duke urged me to allow Dugan to build a stronger defense force, I realized his purpose. The duke needed someone to watch me. Make sure I stayed the course."
"You're telling me you were a hostage at Waverly?"
Beckworth laughed with true merriment, then his gaze fogged over. "I'd never thought of it that way." He sat up and tugged at his sleeves. "You'd have to understand more than we have time for now. The bottom line is that I was never a believer in the stones. I simply wanted to live a better life."
"I'm guessing you've changed your mind on that subject." AJ had pushed her bowl aside and set her elbows on the table, head resting in her hands, fully interested in his story. Now that she had him talking, she wanted to see if she could find a weakness, something she could use as insurance in case she needed it.
Beckworth had grown silent again. He shivered. "I'd rather not talk about the stones."
AJ sympathized with him. She hadn't been happy the first time she'd learned of the stones. But at least she hadn't been alone. Finn had been with her through most of it. Beckworth had lived through a nightmare—stuck in a future century with no friends, no money, and no way to make sense of it. Though he'd had help of a sort from the sisters.
"I'm back home now—or will be soon. The only question that remains is whether Dugan is back at Waverly. And of course, whether Miss Murphy is there."
"And why do people think the viscount is back?"
"We don't know if that's true. If Dugan returned, the townspeople probably just assume the viscount is back as well."
She hated to admit it, but that seemed plausible. "We still need to know what's going on. One way or another."
He continued to study her. Not the way he had during their time together at Waverly, like she was a bug under a microscope. This seemed different. As if he wanted to share something more if he could trust her. But when his gaze slid to another point in the room, she understood he couldn't make that leap any more than she could.
"I suppose we'll find out soon enough." He stood and grabbed the backpack with his meager supplies.
They were on the road to Waverly before she released a silent curse. After all his talk at breakfast, she learned very little about Beckworth himself. Dugan had been the duke's man, and if she were to believe it, there was no love between him and Beckworth. If Dugan held Waverly, then everything she'd endured with Beckworth had been wasted effort.
Perhaps she'd made a mistake bringing him along. Too late now. One thing she had confirmed. The closer they got to Waverly, the more introspective Beckworth became. Whether his reflective mood was from worry or hatching plots, she'd have to wait until she understood his true role—her path to Maire or her worst nightmare.
22
By the end of their second day trapped inside the ship's cell, Finn and Ethan had run through dozens of scenarios for what they might find at Waverly. Each idea became more outlandish than the last with nothing but time and imagination to keep them occupied. Valentin had been true to his word. They ate well with plenty of ale to wash down the meals, yet not enough to get them drunk or unruly.
Finn had been surprised by Ethan's steady demeanor. Neither man liked being stuck in a cell, especially running through blockades. If a battle ensued, the last place they wanted to be was trapped like rats in a sinking ship. But Finn had faith in Valentin. He didn't have a choice. Fretting over it did nothing but agitate his already frayed thoughts over AJ and the danger she was in with Beckworth.
At the end of the first day, Valentin had given them a deck of cards to help pass the time. Armed with the knowledge that with each passing hour, they grew closer to England, the two men managed to not snarl at each other.
When they spent time in their own corners, Finn thought of AJ. Not where she was but memories of their time in Baywood. Their climbing adventures. He marveled at her natural instincts for finding the next hold, and her strength of purpose to reach the top. He remembered the light sheen of sweat on her brow when she saddled Seraphina, her breathing tempered and focused as she fought her fear of spooking the horse. He smiled when he pictured her running around the backyard, filling bird feeders in nothing but her bathrobe. Her hair shimmering in the predawn light, and the coastal breeze ruffling the edges of her robe, exposing tanned legs. The morning feedings only led to mischief when she returned, her skin damp from the morning dew. Finn couldn't help but draw her close when she batted her lashes like a vamp. Some days they would make love on the living room floor, a thick quilt as their bed. He could still feel the warmth of her honeyed skin, her legs wrapped around his as she chattered about some new antique she'd found. He had to believe they'd make similar memories once they were home.
"Tell me something of Maire." Finn sat up from his makeshift bed. They'd rearranged the crates in their cell to provide more comfort and some privacy. Finn perched on top of a crate and grabbed an apple from their leftover breakfast. He waited for Ethan to untangle himself from the canvas sheet they used as bed coverings.
Ethan's hair stuck up in clumps, and he ran his hand through it, which only made it rise more. Once Ethan found his own preferred seat, tucked between two smaller crates he used as armrests, he shook his head. "We've walked through everything I can remember."
"I don't mean about her kidnapping or the events leading up to it. I mean something about her. What was she reading? What was her favorite past time? We've spent so much time apart, and when we were last together, everything was about those damn stones and book. I don't even know her favorite color anymore."
"What did it used to be?" Ethan asked. He'd placed his hands behind his head, elbows wide as he stared at the ceiling as if he were watching clouds float by.
"Green. Although Mam thought it was brown since Maire's dresses were typically covered in mud." He laughed. "Da even tried to get her to wear pants like the stable boys. He thought it might save her dresses, but Maire wouldn't budge. She was determined to do everything a boy could do while wearing a dress." Finn chuckled, then shook his head.
"Tell me," Ethan encouraged.
Finn's smile turned whimsical. "We'd been riding, and the rain caught us halfway home. Not the typical Irish drizzle but a steady downpour that had us thoroughly drenched by the time we made the stables. We'd just put the horses in their stalls when I suggested that her soaked state made her cleaner than she'd been in weeks. We were halfway to the house when she looked down, her brows furrowed in deep thought. Then she got a twinkle in her eye. That's when I knew I'd made a mistake, but I was tired and hungry. So I left her standing in the rain. I'd only taken two steps when the first handful of mud hit me square in the back."
Ethan barked out a laugh. "She didn't."
"Oh, aye, she did. I tried to ignore her until the third one smacked me in the head. Well, what could I do? It was all-out war." Finn wiped at his eyes, his own gaze years away. "I had no choice but to retaliate, but she didn't just stand there and wait for it. She was already on the move, filling both hands with mud. By the time Da pulled us from the mud, we were both thick with it. He made us sit in the rain on opposite ends of the porch until we were washed clean."
They smiled at their own vision of an irritated Maire, sitting in the rain, a smirk of satisfaction on her face.
Finn tossed the apple back and forth in his hands. "So tell me a story of Maire."
The words had barely left his lips when the outer door scraped open.
A minute passed before a man stepped out of the shadows. Finn swept a glance to Ethan, who remained sitting but leaned forward, leaning on the makeshift armrests, ready to strike if needed.
"I thought this might be where the two bodies had gone." He spoke in English, but his accent shouted French native. "Two pigeons in a cage. Or should I say English spies?" The man stepped closer, peering in to get a better look. "I'm not usually interested in passengers. I must admit, the way you w
ere brought on board piqued my curiosity." He began searching the crates. "Where are your bags? I saw them carried in with you."
Finn studied the man. This had to be Valentin's spy. His outward confidence suggested he'd done this type of work dozens of times, but Finn noticed the light sheen of sweat on his brow though the cargo hold was chilly. The spy leaned over a crate, a hand braced on one edge. The hand trembled, which might be from a medical condition or too much drink. Finn didn't believe either.
The spy scanned the cargo hold before sitting on the barrel Valentin had left in front of the cage. Finn assumed the man had lost interest in searching for the duffels. The spy braced his hands on his thighs and leaned toward Finn. "What if I said I had a deal for you?" His gaze darted between Finn and Ethan. "Just tell me why the captain has you locked in the cage. I can make your trip more pleasant." He didn't wait long before sneering. "I can also make the rest of your journey more painful. Nobody watches this cabin. The captain is so arrogant, he stopped caring what's in this hold some time ago."
"And why would you believe that?" Ethan asked the question, surprising Finn. Though he'd been about to ask the question himself.
The man's laugh was high-pitched. "I've been stealing from this hold for months. Nothing big. Nothing overly noticeable. With each port, the inventory grows, and I take my share."
"You hide it somewhere and then sell it when you reach port." Finn grinned and nodded, encouraging the man to speak.
The man nodded along. "That's right. If I can provide some additional information, I get a bonus."
Finn considered the statement then let his eyes round as if he just figured it out. "You're gathering ship movements and the smugglers' port of calls."
"You're turning on your own," Ethan added.
The man shrugged. "I saw an opportunity. That's all."
