Tori crouched in her tent, eyes wide, heart beating fast, waiting for the decision that was to come.
Josh stood tall and appeared to be coiled to spring; Marcus, his attitude contrary to the blazing scar on his cheek, casually rocked back and forth on his heels.
“If that’s the way it is, then listen to me,” Marcus spoke clearly and loudly. Tori could imagine the picture of night-dark eyes flashing bolts of lightning, mouth drawn tight over strong white teeth, that pose of authority so natural to him, the wind ruffling his dark hair about his pantherlike head.
“The wench is a spy sent by the Crown. Now do you still want to use her and whatever else you have in your minds? Or do you want her where we can watch her and have her sent back with our good tidings after the tax robbery in the condition she arrived? In the end, if I let you have your way you’ll have to kill her. There’ll be no other way out for any of us. She can recognize everyone. She can point all of us out and as for myself, I much prefer to do my dancing on the ground, not on the long end of a rope on Tyburn Hill.”
Josh spoke, “Scarblade’s right, lads. I don’t want to hang for a wench.”
There was much grumbling on the part of the men, but it appeared that Scarblade had won. Tori, a quivering mass of nerves, sat huddled in the tent and found herself giving thanks to the tall highwayman.
Charles left the small circle of men and advanced on the tent; entering, he seized the startled Tori by the arm and dragged her into the clearing. “She’s mine!” he said as he held her in front of him. “Raise yer weapon, Josh, an’ ye’ll kill ’er. We deserve ’er, we’ve ridden 1ong an’ ’ard fer ye, Scarblade, an’ we deserve a bit o’ frolic. Wha’s it ta ye? An’ all this blather tha’ ye speak, dancin’ on th’ end of a rope, indeed,” he scoffed. “Once we’re on th’ ship an’ she’s on th’ wharf, wha’ could th’ King do then? Or perhaps we could brin’ ’er along ta pass th’ toime on a long sea voyage!” Charles’s hands tightened painfully, biting into her arms abusively.
“Speak for yourself, Charles,” Richard said, “I want no part of it.”
Ned chimed in with Richard, “I don’t want to force a woman to bed with me, count me out!”
Tori looked from Ned to Richard and breathed a sigh of relief. At least they refused to go along with Charles. But would they stand against him if Charles won out? Tori felt a knot of fear grow within her. Would Scarblade let Charles have her? Would he care so little? Charles waited for Scarblade’s reply but Tori knew he meant to have her . . . regardless!
She jerked her arms free of Charles’s grasp. “Take your hands off me. I have nowhere to go,” Tori hissed; “where could I run?” She stood tall and resolute and let her eyes go from Scarblade to Josh. Scarblade’s eyes were cold and unreadable; if he thought she would beg he was mistaken. She had never begged in her life! Her heart beat rapidly, her breath came in heaves.
Scarblade watched a tiny smile play about the girl’s mouth; she appeared unafraid and there was an alien glint in her eyes. He had to make a decision and he looked meaningfully at the girl, willing her to speak.
Reading the request in his eyes, Tori turned and faced the men. She drew herself up to full height and resought and found Scarblade’s eyes. It was to him she spoke, her tone soft and feminine but each word encased in a sheath of steely assertiveness. She had their attention.
“Your men may have their way with me as you will. But, you were right, they would have to kill me when they’re through. For I promise you,” she said softly, “ any man who touches me will be dealt with by me! I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth if necessary! I’ll wreak upon you a vengeance the likes of which you have never seen. When I have found you, and I will, I shall remove your ears with a dull knife; take one eye from its socket with my own fingers, remove your teeth one by one, and make a soup from these things. You will eat and retch on your own flesh! Then I’ll use this same dull knife and without a second thought, I’ll carve your manhood from your body! I shall sit on a tall horse and listen to your screams and laugh.” She uttered a silvery tinkle of a laugh and Josh shuddered. He believed every word she said.
“Now which of you wants the first honor?” Tori asked softly, almost conversationally. Charles and John slowly backed away from her, hesitation and doubt evident on their faces. Charles moved closer to Tori as Josh came to stand beside her. Tori waited while Charles was still some distance from her; there was no mistaking the lust in his eyes even at that distance. Before Josh knew how it happened, Tori had the knife from his belt in her hand. She moved back several paces and looked with loathing at Charles. Letting a smile of satisfaction spread over her face, she saw Charles’s step falter. Tori tested the weight of the blade in her hand and turned it so that she grasped its point. She hefted the blade experimentally as Charles advanced slowly toward her.
Scarblade drew in his breath as Tori raised her arm, the tip of the knife held secure. She drew back her arm and flexed her wrist. “Another step and your manhood is gone,” she said quietly.
Charles stopped, a grimace on his face. “’Ave no fear, little laidy, Oi’ve no thought o’ ye this day. Bes’ we ferget th’ whole thin’.” He watched anxiously as Tori continued to hold the knife by the tip.
With a fast and fluid motion she hefted and threw the weapon. It sailed through the air like a silver-tipped bird and found its mark in a daisy which had somehow escaped the ravages of the encroaching winter. Tori narrowed her eyes and looked where the knife rested. Satisfied, she walked to her tent and lowered the blanket that served as a door. Sitting down on the pallet, she succumbed to a fit of trembling. “Thank you, Granger, for helping me,” she repeated over and over. “Thank you, God, for guiding the knife to where I aimed it!”
Tori was shaken from her show of bravado. Granger had taught her to throw a knife when they were children. But today her small skill had exceeded her greatest expectations.
Outside, Scarblade bent to pick up the knife. He looked at Charles. “Dead center, she hardly disturbed the petals.” Charles’s face was white; he felt played for the fool, humiliated.
Scarblade looked with concern at Charles’s face. “This is the end of the matter, let the girl be! I’ve a feeling you’re no match for her.”
“Then she is a spy! Where else could she learn ta throw a knife loike tha’? It’s a certainty it’s no’ th’ accomplishmen’ o’ a laidy! She’s a gypsy, Oi tells ye!”
Scarblade turned to Josh, who leaned against a tree, his huge arms folded across his chest. Scarblade grinned as he asked, “Did you see that, Josh?”
Josh joined him in his laughter, “A lass after me own heart. ’Tis a shame she’s promised to another.”
“What?” Marcus asked in a sharp tone.
“’Tis true, Marc. In her delirium she kept speaking of ‘darlin’ Granger’ and then just calling his name over and over,” Josh said slyly.
Marcus did not fail to glean Josh’s meaning. Calling for her lover, was she? Little bawd, dreaming of another while tempting him with her full, moist mouth.
Shooting Josh a reproachful look, Marcus stalked off in the opposite direction from Tori’s tent. He was certain that if he should come across the girl he would take that long, white neck of hers and squeeze it till it snapped.
Why didn’t he just let the men have their way with her? He’d like to see her taken down from her high horse . . . and yet . . . and yet . . .
The oval perfection of her face haunted him; her features were like Dolly’s as was the color of her hair, but there the similarity ended. This girl’s features were more refined. The delicate winged arch of her brows, the clotted-cream complexion, that petulant upper lip, so inviting to kiss, so tempting for a man to take it in his teeth and bite it!
A dull ache from the pit of his guts began to spread within him, warming him. He remembered her as she looked a short while ago. Down on her knees, her outstretched arms beckoning him, her round, high breasts heaving beneath the thin fabric of her blou
se. It would have been so easy, so fitting to seize her and carry her off and satiate himself with her beauty. Scarblade stomped off into the woods, a glare looming in his black eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
“Are you ready to leave . . . Dolly?” Scarblade asked mockingly.
“I thought I told you that I would not be a party to any robbing or banditry,” Tori spat, throwing back her head in defiance.
“Either you ride or I’ll tie you to yonder tree and let the wolves take a choice morsel or two from your lovely frame. Make up your mind, for I’m rapidly losing patience!”
Tori looked imploringly at Josh. He shrugged his huge shoulders in resignation, but Tori thought she saw a glimmer of amusement on the giant’s florid face.
“No!” Tori screeched, stomping her foot in the dirt. “I won’t do it, you cannot make me do something which is against my will!” she added rebelliously.
“And I,” Scarblade shouted derisively, “have very large hands, the better to whip you with if necessary. Now move!”
“I refuse,” Tori answered haughtily. No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Scarblade was off his horse and standing next to her. His mocking eyes infuriated her to the point where she could no longer hold her tongue.
“Do you think for one minute I’ll mount that horse and ride from this clearing to hold up some coach and steal from innocent people? Well, Scarblade, gentleman of gentlemen, I bid you think again. For you will have to give me a pistol—and I promise you I will use it. I,” she said with contempt, “aim low, very low.”
“Is that your final word?” Scarblade smiled.
Tori, taken off guard by the disarming smile, stammered, “Yes.”
“Then you leave me no other choice but to seek out this friend of yours—you do have a friend named Granger, do you not?” Tori could only stare blankly. “We shall seek him out on the morrow and string him from the nearest tree. The decision is yours; I give you five seconds!”
Two seconds later came the soft reply. “You . . . you despicable creature, you loathesome vermin, you . . . you . . . you odious highwayman!”
Tori mounted the horse he held by the reins. “Don’t touch me,” she screeched, “you . . . insufferable desperado.” Jerking the reins in her fury, the horse reared on its hind legs. Deliberately, she yanked the reins to curry in the beast and in her doing so the horse nearly pawed Marcus as he hastened to get out of the way.
“So, you’re fleet of foot also. You have many accomplishments, Scarblade,” Tori said mockingly.
There was horror in Scarblade’s face. “You’d have let that horse come down on me,” he said in awe, his eyes turning into glinting carbon.
“My mistake, kind sir, you were too fast for me. Yes, I would have let him come down on you and not shed a tear.”
Furiously, Scarblade mounted the chestnut. That a mere slip of a girl could best him, and before his men! He wondered if she knew how to shoot a pistol. Probably, he thought sourly, if she knew how to throw a knife. What else can she do that I don’t know about? he wondered. The fine hairs on the back of his neck itched. She was probably this minute casting some kind of spell on him. That was it, she was a witch!
“Wipe that silly smile off your face, Josh, or I’ll wipe it off for you,” Scarblade sniffed.
“Aye, lad, I was just thinking of a wild pig caught in a net.”
Scarblade shot him a venomous look. Josh continued to smile. He knew the girl could have reined in the horse in a second’s time. She had the situation well under control. From his position in line he had seen the smile on her face and the wicked wink she had bestowed on him. Yes, Marcus had met his match in this one.
“The girl goes with me. I don’t trust the others with her. We separate at the fork in the road. Let us pray it is a good night; Lord Starling only invites the richest people to his intimate dinner parties.”
“Aye, lad, we have the right of it. We separate in twos and meet back here at the fork.”
The small party rode quietly in single file. When they reached the fork in the road they separated and Scarblade and Tori rode abreast. Scarblade handed her the pistol and Tori almost dropped it.
“It’s heavy.”
“Does that mean you don’t know how to shoot? Somehow, I thought you would be an excellent shot. You seem to know how to do everything else,” he said snidely.
Tori refused to be baited. She capitulated. “Remember the daisy? Well, I could shoot the petals one after the other and leave no mark on the next. Does that answer your question?”
She smiled in satisfaction, her eyes frosty. Never, until this day, had she held a pistol. In fact, this was the closest she had ever come to one. The lie had been worth it from the look on the highwayman’s face. Truly, it appeared he had believed her when she said she would shoot very low. Suddenly she laughed, a silvery, tinkling sound.
Scarblade gritted his teeth at the sound, and once more the fine hairs on his neck prickled.
“This is the road to the Starlings’ estate. Soon they’ll be arriving. We’ll just wait here in this rutted lane, you’ll remain quiet and let me approach the coach. Just stay in the back of me and keep your eyes alert. If necessary, let the passengers see the pistol. I warn you, keep that tongue of yours still!”
“Yes milord. If I were not astride this beast, I’d be giving you a deep curtsey,” she jeered.
“’Twould not surprise me if that tongue of yours was forked.”
“Why milord, see for yourself,” Tori said prettily, then stuck out her tongue and wiggled it, laughing mirthfully at the expression on his face.
Scarblade closed his eyes wearily. Somewhere he had gone wrong. Everything had been fine till he had brought the girl to his camp. Now everything was at sixes and sevens. She had to be a witch! What kind of woman was she? Where had she been born and raised? He shook his head in defeat.
“Quiet now, I hear the beat of the horses’ hooves. We’ll let the coach get past us, then I’ll ride to the head so the driver can see me and pull in. You stay behind the coach, and no tricks. Just remember, your darling Granger hanging from a tree.”
Tori wrinkled her nose and curled her lip. “Just remember Granger and the rope,” she mimed him softly. “The things I do for you, Granger,” she muttered under her breath as she affixed a black mask such as Scarblade wore over her face.
The ornate coach thundered by the small lane. Scarblade gave a start and headed out; she followed and rode behind the coach. She saw the team being reined in and pulled her mount to a halt. She sat quietly behind Scarblade as the door of the coach opened and four people emerged.
“Your money and your jewels! Best hurry, my fine friends, for it has the look of rain or snow,” came the request.
Pistol in hand, Tori’s eyes fell on his tall figure. I should shoot his leg off, she thought viciously.
One of the ladies, seeing Tori’s lissome form astride the horse, exclaimed “It’s only a boy!” The others took up her cry and seemed surprised. No doubt, the thought of a mere boy earmarked for a life of crime would upset these quality folk.
Well, I’ll just teach this Scarblade a lesson, Tori thought viciously. Force me to do this against my will, will he? Well, we’ll just see about that! For one fleeting moment Granger’s face flashed before her eyes. She blinked, the vision was gone.
Tori inched her horse closer to the carriage so she could better observe the passengers and at the same time be almost abreast of Scarblade.
“Oh, my lady,” she spoke pitifully, “you have noticed that I resemble a boy? ’Tis sad, is it not, to think of a mere boy taking to the open road with a band of outlaws?” The bewigged and powdered ladies shook their heads in agreement.
“What would you think if I told you that not only does this . . . this desperado use mere boys, but girls as well?” With a flourish she removed her cap and a mass of golden curls tumbled over her shoulders. There was shock and outrage written on the ladies’ faces. The men were indignant, Sca
rblade was furious! Tori grinned impishly; she bowed low in the saddle, waving her arm in a wide salute. Pulling on the reins, she made the horse daintily step backward.
“You hellcat!” Scarblade hissed. “I’ll tend to you in a moment.”
“Throw your money and jewels in a pile by that rock,” he said, pointing. “Be quick about it or I fear you’ll all have a good case of frostbite if your coach should leave without you.” Scarblade raised his eyes and pointed to a small trunk with a curving lid. “And throw down that trunk from the luggage rack. Be quick about it!”
A lady raised a cry of protest. “No, please, my best gowns!”
Scarblade silenced her outrage with a penetrating look from beneath lowered lids. He smiled approvingly at the woman, causing her to blush under his insolent gaze. “Milady,” he said in a deep, intimate voice, “a beauty such as yours needs no artificial heightening.”
The lady in question turned to her companions with a simper of delight on her lips. One of the gentlemen, most likely the woman’s husband, sent her a stinging jab to the ribs.
Scarblade smiled and Tori did not fail to notice it. She yearned to rake nails across his handsome face.
With a quick movement he slapped the lead horse of the team and the coach lumbered down the corded road. “Be quick now, for you have a small journey ahead of you, on foot. Without a driver the horses will not travel far, and I’m certain you’ll catch up with them soon.”
The party from the coach started down the road, and the halted coach was within sight. Scarblade and Tori watched them hastily climb into the vehicle. The driver lashed at the team and they sped down the road.
Scarblade motioned to Tori to gather up the spoils.
“Do it yourself, I’m not your lackey.”
Infuriated beyond words, Scarblade wanted to wring her neck. “Do as I say,” he thundered, “immediately!”
“No!” Tori held the reins and backed up slowly, the pistol held tightly in her hand. “Come one step nearer and I’ll shoot,” she added dramatically.
Fate & Fortune Page 13