Cold Comfort (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite Book 5)

by Rebecca King

  “He is still asking,” Rhys informed the men at the table as he slid into a kitchen chair and began to pile his plate high with food.

  “How many times has he been back to that tavern now?” Harry murmured with a smirk.

  “I don’t know but the inn keeper is getting mighty annoyed with his persistence, but he is sticking true to his word and telling Smidgley the same story. So are the staff and patrons who were there that night as well,” Oliver grinned.

  His appreciative gaze slid across the room to Emmeline. While he talked, he watched her moving about the kitchen preparing yet another pie for the men to eat. The entire house had undergone a transformation while she had been in residence and was now adorned with little feminine touches here and there. A small jar of roses sat on the dresser. An old bucket that had been filled with soil and several plants rested in the corner of the room. The dresser top was littered with freshly baked pies, cakes, and bread, all of which had been baked in a way that all anybody had to do was cut a piece off as they went about their day. The house even smelled wonderful, full of the homely scents of fresh baking and lemons, which Emmeline used to clean everything down.

  Oliver shook his head when Harry held out a cake plate to him. “I am stuffed.”

  Harry grinned and helped himself to a large chunk of luxurious fruit cake. For a few moments, a considerably more contented silence settled over everyone than Oliver knew there would have been had Emmeline not prepared such wonderful food for them. Not only that, but another batch of freshly washed laundry fluttered gaily on the make-shift washing line strung across the garden out front. Life for the men was considerably more luxurious with Emmeline around, of that there could be no doubt.

  Privately, Oliver wondered if this was what married life was like. This domestic tranquillity brought about a peace that made him want to linger. It brought him a contentment that put a smile on his face, and a warm anticipation for nightfall. It was something else that he had never expected to feel. Oliver wondered what it would be like to know that when his day was ended, he would be able to follow his wife up to bed and show her how much he cared.

  As far as he could see, married life wouldn’t be all that bad. It would certainly have more benefits than drawbacks. Emmeline certainly seemed content enough and was humming quietly as she washed yet more pots in the bowl next to the dresser.

  Suddenly, Oliver’s quiet musings were rudely interrupted by the arrival of a clearly disgruntled Niall, who slammed the kitchen door behind him with enough force to make the freshly washed windows rattle.

  “Sorry,” he muttered to Emmeline before hurriedly backstepping and yanking his boots off.

  Oliver’s lips quirked again because he didn’t need to look beneath the table to know that nobody wore their boots inside the house anymore. Everyone’s feet were bare and tucked away neatly where they would cause nobody any bother, or Emmeline yet more work.

  “Have you got anywhere?” Rhys asked, not stopping in the process of shoving another mouthful of beef pie past his lips.

  “No. I don’t think any of us are going to get anywhere without Sir Hugo. Where in the Hell is he anyway?” Niall grumbled, sliding into a seat next to Oliver.

  “He isn’t going to resurface for now. He is working on our traitor,” Oliver informed him. “That is all we need to know.”

  “Well, we need his interrogative skills. Everyone is trying but Smidgley is not telling anyone anything,” Niall informed them all crisply.

  “I think it would do him good to be ignored for a while. He is going to revel in withholding information he knows we need. If we ignore him, he will realise we have no interest in him and may demand to talk,” Oliver suggested. “I know it is a tactic Sir Hugo uses. There is nothing men like Smidgley like more than being able to claim they have the upper hand. He will try to prove he is undefeated by not telling us what we want to know. So let’s not bother to ask him anymore. Leave him in that gaol to rot. There is nobody he can complain to, nobody for him to gloat to, or threaten, or try to bully into giving him what he wants. He has to be ignored and left to stew. It shouldn’t be long before he demands something from us. Then we can barter.”

  Emmeline, who had been listening to the men’s conversation, pursed her lips because it was a very clever tactic. It was good to know that while everything had settled down, the men were still diligently working on trying to catch the people responsible behind the kidnap of several young women, some of who had now turned up dead. Thankfully, since the last unfortunate young soul had been left on the door of the old safe house, no other bodies had appeared. But that might be because Smidgley didn’t know where to leave his victims.

  “Smidgley is making his presence known and has started to widen his search to other villages. I swear to God he knows his brother is around here somewhere,” Rhys grinned.

  “He is around here. He is in the county gaol. Rupert can go and see him if he likes, but it will be a one-way ticket,” Harry murmured with a nod.

  “The uncle has turned up,” Niall growled. “He arrived early this morning, straight from London, the coachman said. I overheard him moaning to the stable-hand that the damned boss had forced him to drive as fast as he could all night, and risk getting everyone killed.”

  “Sounds like Smidgley,” Harry snorted.

  “Sounds like Sir Hugo is ruffling feathers. Maybe the uncle who is fresh from London, heard something that damages Smidgley and raced up here to tell his nephews,” Oliver mused with no small amount of relish. “Let’s hope so, eh?”

  “Well, he is at Smidgley Hall for the time being.”

  “Maybe Rupert sent word to him that Ernest had vanished, so the dearest uncle came up here to try to throw his weight around,” Rhys suggested.

  “Maybe,” Oliver nodded. “I don’t care why the uncle is here. The fact that he has turned up makes him as guilty as Hell.”

  Niall began to pile his plate high with something off each plate and then settled back to eat. He had never been involved in an investigation for the Star Elite before that had provided him with such wonderful meals. Practically every time he came through the door, something freshly baked was on the table. It was wonderful, although his waist hated him.

  “Brian Smidgley. Uncle Brian. Four and Thirty. Same height as Rhys. Has a reputation for being a bully who likes to gamble,” Oliver announced.

  “The apple doesn’t fall from the tree with any of them. They all have reputations for being bullies, and all like to gamble,” Harry added.

  “Until we can get Ernest to talk, we don’t stand a chance in Hell of finding the women who are still missing.” Harry shook his head in disgust.

  “For now, we are safe and out of sight. We must keep it that way as long as possible, gentlemen. For now, keep watch on that uncle as well but make sure nobody follows you back here. Given they are widening the search, it is safe to say that they will happen by here at some point soon, so stay armed and keep an eye out. For now, we leave Smidgley to stew for a bit longer. Those thugs of his don’t know much either but they aren’t likely to.” Oliver watched Emmeline gather the wash basket and disappear out of the back door. Without saying another word to his colleagues, he stood and went to follow her only for Harry to stop him.

  “I am off to go and speak with the gaoler to tell him that Smidgley is to be ignored from now on. It would help if our dear Ernest is told that he is no longer needed or relevant before he is left to stew. Then I will go and check on Emmeline’s house to make sure nobody has broken in while she has been away,” Harry offered.

  Oliver nodded his thanks.

  “I am off as well. It is our turn for watch,” Rhys said, kicking Niall into action beneath the table.

  Niall winced and hastily shoved some pie into his mouth as he stood and grabbed his cloak. “Back later,” he mumbled, snatching an apple before Rhys propelled him out of the door.

  Rhys, teasing him about his appetite, slammed the kitchen door behind them. While his colle
agues went about the rest of their day, Oliver went after Emmeline. Once outside, he paused and watched her pegging out the washing. Even this simple task was a hint of what the future might have in store for them should they be brave enough to take a chance on being together. More and more of late, it was becoming impossible to be apart from her for any length of time. Whenever Oliver did go anywhere his thoughts were practically overwhelmed with Emmeline. He worried if she was safe, what she was doing, whether she was working too much, getting enough rest, eating properly. It was starting to drive him mad. He didn’t relax again until he returned to her and was able to see for himself that she was fine. Moreover, the more time he spent with her the more impossible it was becoming to keep his hands to himself. Like now. The more time he spent watching her carrying out this everyday chore, the more he wanted to close the distance between them.

  “Each time I am with her I end up kissing her,” he murmured beneath his breath. “It isn’t the wisest thing to do seeing as we could have to move on any day now. How can I know if I love her?”

  Oliver didn’t know. He had no idea what love was, what it felt like, or what he should do to recognise it. It was an emotion other people felt. In his line of work, in his life, there had never been much room for sentiment. His parents were still around, and of course he loved them and went to see them as often as he could, but that was a different kind of love to the one he needed to acknowledge to be able to decide if he should spend his life with Emmeline. What that forever after kind of love felt like, though, was beyond him. He didn’t even know where to start. Yes, he desired her. More and more each day. In fact, it was becoming increasingly impossible to keep his hands to himself. Yes, he wanted her to be safe and happy. Her welfare was of paramount importance, more so each day. Yes, he was eager to see her, not least because he could have a normal conversation with her about mundane things that didn’t involve death, operation planning, or keeping tabs on criminals. In fact, he quite liked being able to help her around the house whenever he could. But there was more to a relationship than that, wasn’t there?

  With one last, careful look at her, Oliver forced himself to turn around and head in the opposite direction. Quietly letting himself back into the house, he gathered the things he would need and made his way out to the stable block. His frown was thoughtful when he made his way into the barn moments later. In the doorway, he paused and glanced around the huge space and at the horses tethered within. There was nothing he needed to do, but he forced himself to go inside anyway, not least because if he didn’t then he was going to find his way back to the garden where he would undoubtedly end up kissing Emmeline again.

  Emmeline hummed as she pegged the last of the washing on the line. It billowed gently in the breeze that swirled lazily around the garden. When she looked up at the long line of clothing, movement in the driveway captured her attention. For a moment, she wondered if the men were returning for some reason. She tensed because she knew the only reason they would return would be because something had gone terribly wrong. The more she studied the visitors, the more she realised that the group of four men riding swiftly down the driveway had nothing to do with the Star Elite.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered.

  Lifting her skirt, Emmeline jumped over the basket and raced into the house. “Oliver! Oliver!”

  Oliver frowned when he heard her calling. He paused and dropped the hoof pick he was using when she barrelled out of the house and charged across the yard at him.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s them. Smidgley. They are coming down the drive,” she panted. “What do we do?”

  “Calm down, remember?” Oliver growled. He looked over her shoulder at the end of the drive visible beside the house. “How long do we have?”

  “A matter of minutes. They are half-way down the drive,” she gasped. She tried to calm herself, but terror surged through her and made her physically shake.

  “Hide Quick. Get in here. There are some hay bales up in the hay loft. Wedge yourself into a corner and tuck your skirt around you. Make sure nothing is visible. Just hurry up. Get up there and stay perfectly still. Don’t speak no matter what you do.” Oliver hefted her into the hay loft and shoved the ladder up after her. He then hoisted himself up and patted the floor of the hay loft but there was no cover for the manhole. He had to leave it open. With a curse, he dropped to the ground and, by the time the unwelcome visitors cantered into the stable yard, was picking the hoof of his horse again, seemingly unconcerned by the intrusion.

  Oliver paused and studied each rider as they entered the stable yard, well aware that he was the object of close scrutiny in return. Without issuing a word of greeting, Oliver ambled casually over the large shotgun propped against the barn door.

  “Who are you?” he demanded without preamble.

  “You might be able to help us,” Rupert Smidgley began, peering down his thin aquiline nose at Oliver in cold contempt. “Who are you?”

  “I own here. What do you want?” Oliver snapped gruffly.

  “We want some information.”

  “From me.” Oliver’s voice turned dull.

  “Have you seen a young, blond haired woman around these parts?” Smidgley continued.

  “No.”

  Smidgley smirked and looked pointedly at the feminine clothing on the washing line.

  “That’s the wife’s,” Oliver informed him.

  Smidgley looked pointedly around the empty yard. “Where is she? Might I have a word?”

  “With my wife? Whatever for?”

  “She might have some information for us,” Smidgley replied smoothly in a polite yet dismissive tone.

  “I don’t think so. She barely leaves the house,” Oliver snorted. “What kind of information do you want?”

  “I want to know about a blonde woman we have lost. We are looking for her, you see? We want to know where we can find her. Your – wife – might know,” Smidgley replied.

  “She isn’t here right now.”

  “Oh? That’s odd,” Smidgley smirked at his co-conspirators. “I must go and see the surgeon because I could have sworn that I just saw a woman pegging the washing out. She had blonde hair as well.”

  “Must have been your eyesight,” Oliver retorted dismissively. “Now go away. You have no business coming here.”

  He stared at the men, and mentally heaved a heavy sigh when two of them dismounted under Smidgley’s command. Oliver cocked his gun and stared at each one.

  “Where is she?” Smidgley asked quietly. “You may as well hand her over. We know who you are and that you have her.”

  “I have no idea who you mean.” Oliver scratched his ear and prayed that Emmeline was so hidden that what was being said was muffled. The last thing he wanted was for her to give herself over to these thugs in the hope of sparing him. Oliver didn’t think he could stand it on his conscience if anything happened to her. “There is just me here.”

  “Search the house,” Smidgley ordered the thug closest to him.

  “Take a step near that house and you will damned well drop where you stand. I don’t give a damn who in the Hell you are, but you have no business coming around here like this. Show me your magistrate’s authority and you can search the place. Until then, get the Hell out of here.” Oliver stared hard at the closest thug, almost daring him to take another step.

  When the thug turned to look at his boss, Smidgley nodded. The thug immediately set of for the house. Oliver took aim and fired at shot at the man’s leg. The man howled in pain and fell to the floor clutching his now wounded thigh. Blood poured out of the neat gash Oliver had caused, but Oliver barely gave it a second glance. He re-cocked the gun and lifted a commanding brow at the invaders.

  “I don’t give a shit who you think you are, but you have no authority to come snooping around here trying to bully me. I have no idea what you want but I don’t have it. Even if I did, you wouldn’t be helping yourself to it. Now get the Hell out of here before I shoot you
r damned horse out from beneath you and drag you the Hell out.” Oliver squinted malevolently at the man on the horse, who continued to stare thoughtfully at him, as if contemplating just leaving.

  Oliver doubted he would be that lucky, though. He was right.

  “Get him,” Smidgley ordered his thugs who all began to converge on Oliver at once.

  Oliver eyed each man in turn but stood his ground. The gun he held had one more shot. It was practically useless against the onslaught of three men, but he knew how to fight. He wasn’t down and out yet. Bracing himself, Oliver knew the next several moments were going to be tricky but took aim and shot the closest man straight in his stomach. Leaving him to fall to the floor, Oliver then stepped toward the next approaching thug and swung the butt of his gun at the man’s head before jabbing it sharply into the man’s stomach, ribs, and jaw, and then into the side of his knee. While he was working on the second man, the third circled around them and attacked Oliver from the side. Oliver stepped swiftly out of the way, but the thug followed. He grabbed Oliver’s arm in a painful grip. Oliver, temporarily distracted from his attack of the second thug, was punched soundly in the side of the head. Pain exploded across his jaw. Ruthlessly, Oliver used the weight of the man holding him to lift both feet off the ground. Within seconds, the second thug fell to the floor unconscious. Oliver then doubled over and took the weight of the third thug with him. The speed he bent over at the waist took his attacker guard and gave Oliver the ability to slam him head first into the ground. When he was down, Oliver then slammed a booted foot into the side of the man’s head that stopped him getting up again.