by Kim Allred
That made sense. A snap of a twig or rustle of branches would bring a guard, but it wouldn't take long for him to figure out the ruse.
Beckworth checked his pockets and, nodding once, motioned to the stable. "The horses are ready. We'll ride to the west side of the estate, hide the horses, then walk south to where the outbuilding is. We stay within sight of each other. Once I give the signal, you don't say a word." He stopped until she nodded. "If either of us is spotted, we run like hell for the horses. Try to stay small when you run. If we're lucky, they'll think us curious boys who've strayed too far from home. Keep riding west until you reach a main road, then cut south. Otherwise, we determine the situation and be back for breakfast within an hour or so."
"Sounds too simple."
"That's where people get lazy. Creeping up on armed men should never be taken lightly."
"I get it," she grumbled.
He laughed. "If we're as good a team as I think we'll be, you'll be back before you know it. And those coffee urges you're having? Eleanor makes the best coffee this side of London."
Now, miles away from Eleanor, she could almost smell the coffee. She winced when something struck her leg. Glancing down and not seeing anything, she turned to find Beckworth smiling at her. Then he pointed behind her. That had been the second time he'd thrown a rock at her. The first time, he'd hit her shoulder, fairly close to the point where she'd stabbed him. He'd shrugged in apology, but she'd caught the slight smile before he'd disappeared into the underbrush for her to follow.
This second rock was her signal to return to the horses. She checked the thick stand of woods and listened. After a moment of nothing but the sounds of chickadees and a few insects, she dodged down a deer trail. She couldn't move as efficiently as Beckworth, so she kept her focus divided between where she stepped and scanning the terrain for guards who might have seen them.
The man was scary quiet in his stealth mode, which explained why it had been so difficult to catch him in Baywood. Ethan had mentioned Beckworth demonstrated the skills of a street urchin. She'd meant to ask Beckworth about it but decided the question broached a personal area she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
When she reached the horses, she crouched behind a small outcropping until Beckworth caught up with her. They waited while their breathing slowed. After five minutes that seemed an eternity crouched knee to knee with Beckworth, he nodded, and they broke for the horses. They walked the horses for a short distance before mounting and running for the farmhouse.
By the time they made it back, AJ was giddy, still laughing as she brushed down her horse.
"Addictive, isn't it?" Beckworth had finished caring for his mount, which was munching on hay, its tail casually flicking the air.
"I had no idea."
"You would've made an excellent natty lad."
AJ gave him a questioning glance.
"A pickpocket."
"A thief? Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
"Most assuredly."
She grunted. "And where did you learn all these skills?" She ran the brush along the horse's flank as if his answer was of no concern.
After a moment of silence, Beckworth took the brush from her and led her horse to its own stall and pile of hay. "Something I picked up while living in London. It was a long time ago." He patted the horse on its rump before closing the door. "I believe I smell coffee."
25
"It makes more sense to send letters to the earl and Hensley. They'll both send men, and I won't have to spend time traveling back and forth." AJ leaned back, a hand covering her stuffed stomach. She'd barely breathed between bites of breakfast Eleanor had waiting for their return. Though the cook at the monastery tried, her meals didn't come close to Eleanor's cooking.
Beckworth claimed her zealous hunger was from the adrenaline of their surveillance. Earlier in the meal, he told the two women, "A good heist could make you think you'd been famished for days. I've seen people eat until their clothes no longer fit, plumping to twice their size."
Both women laughed at his tall tales. AJ learned more about Beckworth through his stories than any creative questioning could answer. The fact he seemed nothing more than a flimflam man, a master at the con, shed a light into Beckworth that somehow made his previous actions make sense. Unfortunately, understanding him better didn't mean she agreed with or trusted him. This particular argument about her staying was no different.
He spared her a glance before returning to his second helping of breakfast. "You're only scared of going because you think they won't let you return with them." He spread marmalade on a slice of toast while AJ studied him over the rim of her mug, savoring the aroma of the coffee. Beckworth hadn't lied about Eleanor's touch with coffee.
AJ ignored his comment, having already come to that same conclusion on their ride back from Waverly. Both the earl and Hensley would be too protective to allow her to return, forcing her to remain behind to wait for Finn. "If I stay, I can tell people I'm Eleanor's niece or family friend. If they trust Eleanor, the other townspeople will be more inclined to talk around me. I'd be in a better position to discover something. You're unwilling to go to town, worried someone may recognize you."
"She has a point," Eleanor interjected. "Women know more about the events around town than anyone else." She pushed herself up from the table and set another pot of coffee on the fire.
"I don't need you both bantering at me. This is a matter of safety, not skill or accessibility." Beckworth tugged his sleeves then crossed his arms, the old viscount seeping through.
"How about this?" AJ changed tactics. "Even if I go to Hereford, I should send letters anyway. That way, if I'm held up somewhere, or get lost or whatever, both men will have the most current information." She pushed a fork through the crumbs of her breakfast before Eleanor snagged the plate from her. "We're not even sure who's in the building. What if it's some other prisoner?"
Beckworth nodded, his gaze unfocused as he stared into his cup. "That's a very real possibility. And that's what I'll be confirming while you go for backup. I'll also need to monitor the guards' schedules and patterns."
"It would be easier with two of us. I'll write the notes and post them today. Then we can finish our negotiations." Maybe she'd find some trace of Finn or Ethan in town. If they'd landed in Hereford, they should have been waiting for her here. It didn't make sense they hadn't caught up with her yet.
An hour later, dressed in her plainest gown and letters in her hand, AJ found Beckworth in the barn where he'd saddled two horses.
Beckworth noticed her questioning glance and shrugged. "If you're crazy enough to go to town, Eleanor has given us a list." He scratched his shoulder, then tugged on his sleeves, his next statement forcing a twitch of his lips. "It appears we're drinking more coffee than she'd originally planned."
They rode to town in silence, neither seeming eager to restart their argument. AJ had no doubt Beckworth was piling up reasons why his plan was better than hers. What he said made sense. Finn would have the same argument. Why was her safety more important than Maire's?
When they reached the town's border, Beckworth stopped by the same crumbling building as yesterday. "Remember, keep your head down, post the letters, get the supplies, and get out. No questions."
"I understand."
Before she could move her mount away, Beckworth grabbed her arm. "Seriously. We can't afford to tip our hand."
They glared at each other before AJ nodded. "I get it. In and out." She pulled away from him, ignoring his encouraging—and slightly concerned—expression.
With Beckworth's warning still ringing in her ears, she stopped to post her letters before heading directly to the mercantile. After handing the shopkeeper Eleanor's list, the heavyset man tugged on his ear while giving AJ a curious assessment. The last time she'd been in the store, the shopkeeper's wife had helped her and hadn't seemed to care that AJ was a stranger. She kept her expression friendly, refusing to glance at the door, trying to remem
ber how many steps were required to escape. Then, feeling stupid for being paranoid, she forced a larger smile.
"This looks like Eleanor's handwriting," the shopkeeper finally stated. "But I just sent out a bag of coffee last week. Seems odd she'd need more already." He scratched his protruding belly as he studied the list again before resting his gaze on her.
AJ shifted from one foot to another. Had Eleanor sent a hidden message? Did she feel like a hostage and Beckworth her captor? The woman had seemed genuinely pleased to see him. AJ considered her options, but after further thought, silenced her nerves and stuck with the plan.
"Eleanor is a dear friend. A friend of a friend, actually. We're traveling through on our way north. It seemed silly not to stop for a visit." AJ's voice faded out, stopping herself from further babbling.
The shopkeeper's gaze roamed the shop, stopping for a second on a man in the far corner. AJ picked at her skirts and pushed her hat farther down on her head. When the shopkeeper's gaze fell on her again, he motioned her to a stand of root vegetables she didn't recognize.
In a voice that carried through the shop, he laughed and said, "Oh, no, you don't want to cook it that way. It will taste better in a soup, or maybe a stew." He picked one up and handed it to her, lowering his head and whispering, "These are very dangerous times in Corsham."
Unsure what he meant or how to respond, she nodded. "I imagine so during times of war."
"Men who have left for such pursuits may come home to find what they left behind has been taken."
AJ went still. Was he talking about Beckworth? "War is a terrible thing."
"The best a man can do is to rely on his friends."
She wasn't sure if this man was a friend or not. Maybe the new Viscount of Waverly was holding his foot on the throat of the town. That sounded like Dugan. When she thought back to her trip to town the day before, she'd thought the townspeople somewhat reserved. She'd assumed it was because she was a stranger. Maybe it was something else entirely.
"Friends are always good, but they can be hard to find." AJ waited while the man considered her words.
He flicked his gaze around the store, lingering a second longer on the man who still hovered in the back of the store. "You'll want to get back to your visit. I'll send the boy out with your purchases this afternoon."
"You're so kind." When AJ pulled out a bag of coins Beckworth had given her, presumably from Eleanor, the shopkeeper staid her hand.
"Eleanor has an account. You'll want to be on your way."
AJ reached for the man's hand, giving it a light squeeze. He patted her hand in return, then turned in search of another customer.
On her walk to the door, she felt the eyes of the stranger as if someone laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. Once outside, she hustled to her horse and kept a steady pace as she nudged it out of town. She wanted to look back but didn't dare. Yet she knew they watched her. With her head down, she still managed to notice a few things. A man walked out of the shadows as she neared the smithy. Another man stood from a bench in front of the apothecary as she passed. Had they been waiting for her?
She fought the urge to kick her horse into a run. Every neuron told her to follow her flight instincts, but she managed to keep her mount at a steady pace. Nothing to see here. She thought about the time the Romani had left her and Maire in the middle of a vacated meadow. They had found their way to a town, only to fall into Dugan's hands. He must be using the same strategy here, keeping men in town to watch for strangers or suspicious activity. His way of keeping the villagers under control.
Before she reached the edge of town, she couldn't help but glance back. The three men she'd noticed were now on horseback following her. She couldn't lead them back to Beckworth. In a panic, her brain swirled with empty possibilities. The only idea that kept resurfacing was to do the exact thing she'd decided against—riding toward Beckworth. If she rode past without slowing, he'd know something was wrong without having his hiding spot blown. She wasn't going to escape without some form of distraction. Beckworth would need to put his childhood skills to the test.
As soon as she passed the last building in town, she made a left down a narrow road. If the weeds growing through the middle of it was any indication, the road was rarely used. She kicked her horse, frantically searching for the best route that led back to Beckworth's hideout. The crumpled building came into view, and just before reaching it, she yanked the horse toward a copse of trees.
Before the turn, she braved a quick glance toward the building and caught Beckworth's startled expression. Out of the corner of her eye, a huge man appeared out of the shadows from the other side of the building. He was on foot, and when he saw AJ, he began to run.
Dugan's men had surrounded them.
Then the sun cut through the shade.
Lando.
Jamie must have asked Lando to follow her. No wonder neither of them had put up much of a fight.
Then Beckworth tackled Lando. What was he doing?
She didn't have time to consider her question when multiple hooves refocused her attention. With nothing but her single plan to work with, she continued her path toward the trees. The branches hung low, but AJ kept her head down. After several yards, thinking she'd cleared the trees, she steered the horse down a smaller path.
The horse cut the corner short, raking AJ against a tree. An errant limb caught the sleeve of her dress and dug into her arm. She cried out in pain and didn't see the second branch as it hit her square in the shoulder, knocking her to the left. Her grip loosened on the reins. She squeezed her legs in a last vain attempt to stay on the horse.
The fall played out in slow motion. She slid off the saddle as the horse raced on. Her first thought was to tuck into a ball, but the ground loomed. All thoughts vanished when she landed on her side, and her head slammed into the ground.
The hooves drew nearer. Then she heard nothing at all.
26
AJ's feet skimmed along the stone floor. Her arms ached from the rough hands that held her as two men dragged her down the hall, each walking at a different pace. Their grip tightened when they stopped at a door where a third man fumbled for a key. She felt like a turkey wishbone at Thanksgiving. A door scraped open, and they moved on. When they came to a stop at the second locked door, she tried to stand, but her legs wouldn't hold her. Once through the door, the two men continued to drag her to yet another door.
Another man, presumably a guard, glared down at her.
One of the men holding her growled, "Open the door. Dugan's orders. They're to be together for now."
The man hesitated for a moment before something metallic clanked. Keys. Three doors. Were there three different keys? AJ tried to piece things together, for whatever good it would do. Her head ached, and she couldn't remember why. Did they hit me?
The door opened to a room darker than the dimly lit hallway. The smell of human waste and mold would have doubled her over if she'd been standing on her own. The men yanked her through the door and unceremoniously dropped her. She remained on the floor, the cold stone, as filthy as it must have been, felt soothing to her aching head.
Stars danced at the edges of her vision when someone grabbed a fistful of her hair, lifting her head off the floor. Stale breath, tinged with something sour, made her gag. A voice whispered, "Welcome to Waverly." Her head slammed back to the floor, then the man placed his beefy hand on her shoulder and used it as a brace to push himself up.
The muffled stomping of boots faded as a door slammed and peaceful silence settled around her. She curled into a ball and tried to focus, but the pounding in her head wouldn't stop, and her foggy thoughts flipped through scenes like a kaleidoscope—the men in town, Beckworth's startled expression, Lando running after her, the trees, then blackness.
They must have brought her to the building she'd investigated earlier with Beckworth. Could there be a second building? The guard confirmed Dugan was involved, so it must have been his men who chased her. Had Beckworth
been caught too? Had he led her into a trap? Damn. She'd been careful, but they'd been waiting. She pushed herself up but dropped back down when her vision blurred.
Feet scuffled from somewhere in the cell, and her heart pounded. The guards mentioned her sharing a cell, and the realization drudged up a new fear. When hands grabbed her, she flung her arms out to fend the person off.
"Ow. Stop that. I'm only trying to help."
AJ knew that voice.
"Maire?" The single word barely registered in her own ears, yet the person reached for her again, fingers tentative on her shoulder.
"AJ?" The voice, full of wonder, flooded AJ with relief.
AJ drew herself to a sitting position, stopping partway when the stab of pain became too intense. The room wasn't as dark as she'd first thought. A single candle glowed from a table across a larger-than-expected cell. The accommodations were a far cry from the last time Maire had been a guest at Waverly. Beckworth had kept her housed in an immense, richly appointed room with a grand veranda overlooking the gardens. Now she lived in a pitiful cell where the only light came from a grated window in the door and a single candle flame.
Waiting for her eyes to adjust, AJ surveyed more of the room. A small pallet lay against the far wall—Maire's bed. A bucket sat against the opposite wall, and from the odor drifting from that direction, AJ assumed it was the latrine. She decided Dugan was one man she wouldn't hesitate to shoot through the heart.
AJ completed her scan of the room at the lit candle perched on a wooden table. Two chairs accompanied the table where multiple stacks of books and writing materials covered every inch.
She gazed up at the woman who now stood in front of her. Maire's dress was tattered. Random spots of sky-blue material contrasted with spatters of mud and what looked like bloodstains. Her matted hair hung dull and listless. But for all that, Maire stood tall, her expression full of sorrow and something else AJ couldn't decipher.
