Smuggler's Glory

by King, Rebecca

  “I have nothing to offer you,” he groaned. “Don’t ask me to do the one thing I want more than anything, and then just leave you.” He shook his head and closed his eyes.

  Francesca took the negative shake of his head as rejection. This time she made no attempt to stop the tears from falling.

  The sadness was back in her eyes and he knew that he wasn’t so cold that he could walk away. He couldn’t see any way to let her down gently, and if he was honest with himself, he wanted this one night with her. Whatever the future held for either of them, making love tonight, with him, clearly meant as much to her as it did to him. He couldn’t find it within his heart to deny her.

  “You will hate me in the morning,” he whispered.

  “No I won’t,” Francesca argued, unable to tell him that she knew that she would never find anyone to replace him. If one night was all she was going to have, then she was going to make the most of it.

  Silence settled around them as Simon gave her what she wanted the most.

  Him.

  Soft sighs and gentle whispers continued well into the night as they made every precious moment count.

  The following morning Francesca awoke to the gentle and persistent shaking of her shoulder.

  “Please go away,” she mumbled, snuggling down into the plump pillow. She rolled over, wriggling against the slight soreness of various parts of her body that hadn’t been there the day before. The memories of what she had spent the night sharing with Simon came tumbling forth, chasing away any lingering sleep.

  Opening her eyes, she stared up into Simon’s gentle gaze mere inches from hers.

  “Morning,” he whispered, placing a tender kiss on her lips. “How do you feel this morning?”

  “Tired,” Francesca replied, feeling a now familiar sadness dim the happiness that had been bubbling through her.

  “I’ve brought you some breakfast,” he announced, nodding sheepishly at the tray resting on the table beside the bed. “I thought you might be hungry.”

  Francesca felt her heart flip at his thoughtfulness and stared at the hot, buttered toast and fruit sitting beside the hot chocolate.

  “For me?” her voice trembled, and she sat up in time for him to place the heavy tray across her lap. She was still struggling with trying to cover her modesty with the stubborn sheet, when the heavy weight of the tray snatched it out of her fingers, leaving her bare to Simon’s interested gaze. Her cheeks flamed and she glanced around frantically for something she could cover herself with.

  “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Simon growled, feeling his tired body begin to respond. Deciding to preserve her blushes, he handed her the nightgown he had removed the night before and busied himself with opening one of the shutters while she covered herself. There was after all only so much temptation a man could stand.

  He moved the chair she had used the night before to the side of the bed and took a seat, shaking his head at the piece of toast she held out to him.

  “I’ve eaten already.” He shifted, hating to broach the subject but knowing it was inevitable. “Bertie and Archie are getting the carriage ready. When you are dressed and packed, just come downstairs.”

  Francesca suddenly lost her appetite and carefully deposited her toast back onto her plate. It was difficult to swallow past the lump in her throat all of a sudden and she found it extremely hard to look at him.

  “There are a few things that I need to tell you about while we are alone,” he began several minutes later, when she made no attempt to eat anything else. Removing the tray, he sat carefully on the bed facing her and picked up one of her hands. He knew she was upset at leaving, but there simply no way he could agree to her staying.

  “I have sent word to my solicitor that if something should happen to me, you are to be my sole beneficiary.” He ignored her gasp of surprise and squeezed her hands, silently asking her to remain quiet for now. “I want you to promise me that when you return to Thistledown, you use the money you have inherited to staff this place the way it should be. It is far too big for you and Bertie to manage by yourselves and you need the added security of more people around and about. By the sounds of it, most of your staff will come from the village anyway, but you need someone who can clean, and run this house the way it should be run. That will give you more time to oversee the refurbishment of this place. I want you to start to turn this place into a home, Francesca. Your home.”

  Francesca shook her head, drawing her hands out of his. “I have decided to leave it as it is,” she replied softly. “There are enough rooms for me and Bertie and, well, Bertie is an old man. He won’t be around forever. When he has gone, there will be just me and it seems such a huge expense for one person to live in. I may just sell it and move on.” She didn’t add that she couldn’t bear the thought of living in a house that had so many memories of him inside. She would be forever waiting for the day he would walk back through the door, only she knew it wouldn’t happen.

  “Don’t give up on it, darling,” Simon pleaded, feeling his heart clench tightly. “What has brought about such a change in your opinion of the place? You love the moors and the house.”

  “I do, but there are not so good memories here now as well,” she replied honestly. “There are smaller cottages around the moors that could be refurbished more easily at a fraction of the cost. I may purchase one of those to spend the rest of my days in.”

  “You could also find yourself a husband to settle down with,” Simon suggested, feeling a surge of jealousy for the unnamed man.

  Francesca merely looked at him before slowly shaking her head. “Nobody would want to be stuck with me. I’m slightly eccentric, had you not noticed?”

  Simon shook his head. “I think all of us have some eccentricity in us somewhere. It is what makes us interesting. But there is nothing about you that makes you unmarriageable.”

  The words ‘except to you’ hovered on her lips, but she kept them to herself. She was trying hard to retain her dignity and not turn into a quivering, wailing heap of feminine misery, but it was difficult.

  “I’ll get dressed now.” She didn’t need to ask what he planned to do. He had made it clear that if he survived the night, his mission here was done. He would pack up, move on and continue fighting. There was nothing she could offer him that could tempt him to turn his back on the kind of life he had lived for many years now, and nothing she could say that would persuade him to return.

  Taking his cue to leave, Simon pushed to his feet, wishing they had more time to settle things between them a bit more. He knew that if he died, the solicitors in London would contact her to inform her of the additional wealth she would receive. Although there was nothing he could do about his title, she would have his amassed money that was a considerable amount from both family inheritance and his own untouched earnings. He also knew that Hugo would keep a careful eye on her, and make sure that if she did run into difficulties, she would find a worthy ally to help fight her corner.

  It should have made it easier for him to leave, but somehow it made him more uncomfortable than ever. He knew he was being pessimistic in expecting the worst. With many years of training behind him, he was more than capable of taking care of himself, but none of the Star Elite knew just what they were going into, just how many people were working underground posing a threat. Until they confronted it, they had to face the danger with the same selfless bravery they gave to every mission they went on.

  This time though, Simon fervently hoped that he was alive at the end of this mission to at least consider his options. Although everyone fully expected him to pack up and return to base camp to regroup, he wasn’t so sure he wanted that kind of life any more. Francesca had drawn him into her world of light and given him a taste of what it was like to be on the receiving end of gentleness and compassion. He didn’t want to return to the life of darkness, shadows and perpetual threat. Especially now, after everything he had shared in Francesca’s bed last night.

 
“I’ll see you downstairs,” he murmured, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He was battling with a confusing mix of reluctance to leave her, and urgency to get the next few hours over and done with so he could get on with his life.

  Francesca descended the stairs minutes later as regally as Anne Boleyn on her way to her execution. She had such a tight grip on her emotions that her knuckles had turned white. She was struggling to find anything appropriate to say to Simon and his friends. What did you say to men who were about to knowingly walk into a battle that could result in their deaths? Good luck? Stay safe? They all seemed so banal.

  When she arrived in the kitchens it was to see the carriage waiting directly outside. Bertie was sitting atop the box seat, while Archie was holding the horse quiet and steady. Pie and Simon were nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or not.

  She jumped when Simon silently appeared at her elbow. He had apparently been studying the fire damage in the abandoned wing. Taking her elbow in a gentle hold, he escorted her to the carriage door, handing her bag into the darkened depths before turning toward her.

  “Whose carriage is this?” she asked, studying the unfamiliar outline of the huge lumbering conveyance.

  “You mean you don’t remember it?”

  Francesca shook her head, wondering if it would make it to Padstow. It must have been as old as Bertie.

  “It was your uncle’s. Well, your aunt’s really. Your uncle put it into storage when your aunt passed, and refused to get rid of it. It has only seen daylight for maintenance,” Bertie replied, pride lacing his voice.

  Francesca shook her head and caught Simon’s lips twitching. “I swear to God, if this thing collapses at the end of the drive, I won’t be held accountable for the mess it makes.”

  “Archie has checked it over. It will get you there,” Simon replied gently, placing a hand on her waist to stop her when she moved to climb aboard. “Just stay in Padstow until Hugo gives you the nod to return.”

  When Francesca didn’t reply, he placed one blunt finger beneath her chin and tipped her face toward him. “I mean it, Francesca, stay in Padstow until you are told it is safe.”

  Francesca eased her chin out of his hold and stared at him, trying desperately to commit his face to memory. She wasn’t sure if she would ever see it again, and that hurt more than she could bear. Despite the presence of the others, she drew his head down for one last kiss before releasing her hold and climbing inside. She had no sooner taken a seat than the door was closed and the carriage rumbled into motion.

  She didn’t look back. She couldn’t.

  Tears slowly trickled down her face.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I hate bracken,” Simon grumbled softly, fighting the urge to flick a particularly itchy spot on his back caused by the constant scratching of the rough weed. He seemed to have spent most of his time living in Much Hampton lying in bracken and thinking about Francesca. His heart clenched at the misery clearly etched on her face when she had left. Although he was somewhat mollified by the kiss she gave him, he knew she was still disappointed that she had to go.

  “She’ll be alright,” Archie whispered, sensing Simon’s thoughts.

  Simon merely glanced at him.

  “Take a word of advice?” he asked after several moments of watchful silence.

  “What?” Simon asked, wondering if Archie was going to expand on the conversation.

  “Marry her,” his friend advised. “It’s working for Hugo. If he can make it work there is no reason why you can’t.”

  “But I can’t just walk out of the operation,” Simon said.

  “You’ve done your fair share. We aren’t indispensable. When we go, there will be twice as many men ready and waiting to take our places. I don’t know about you but I am getting fed up with sleepless nights, lies and subterfuge while the rest of the country goes about their lives. I think it is about time we had our chance, don’t you?”

  “Could you really settle down to a life of domesticity after what we have been doing over the past few years?”

  “You mean experience the happiness Hugo is revelling in? Going home to a pretty wife, a nice warm bed, and a beautiful home to call my own?” Archie wondered if Simon was a penny short of a full pot. “Course I bloody would. Turn my back on all of this in a heartbeat, and so should you.”

  Archie’s words were the last thing Simon had expected to hear. As far as he had been aware, everyone within the Star Elite was thoroughly dedicated to their job. He had known that they worked as a team, and they had all taken their turn on night watch, adopting disguises and the like in order to support each other. He had simply assumed they had all had the same attitude toward what they did. He had been so wrapped up in his own misery that he had failed to see other people’s discontent.

  “She reminds me of Harriett, but in a less eccentric way,” Archie said after several moments of companionable silence. “I like her.”

  “It’s nice that you two are having a cosy little chat, but do you think we might just get on with it now? I don’t know about you, but I am bloody freezing and have to move before frostbite sets in and I can’t shoot my bloody pistol.”

  They had raided many houses in the past, preferring to operate stealthily rather than blasting their way through. Assured that the area was clear of curious eyes, all three men broke from their cover and ran across the small path toward the back of the long row of workmen’s cottages.

  He had seen enough within the village to know that the large black carriage arrived at the tavern and deposited the occupants who used the building to await nightfall. As soon as it was dark they would make their way over to one of the small terraced houses whose owners had mysteriously vanished several months earlier. It was located directly opposite the entrance to the mine shaft.

  Within minutes Simon, Archie and Pie were standing at the back door waiting while Archie picked the lock. Pie stood at his back ready for any surprise attack while Simon carefully scanned the tunnel entrance and the houses around them for any sign of imminent threat.

  Within seconds the door swung silently open.

  “Anyone home?” Pie mouthed, nodding upward to the bedrooms.

  Archie shrugged and turned to the steps at the same time while Pie began a sweep of the ground floor.

  They had agreed that they would search the house and yard before making their way to the tunnel entrance at the rear of the houses. They had all taken turns in keeping watch on the back of the houses for several nights and knew the single tunnel, dug as a fire escape when the mine was operational, was being used to get to and from the main mine buildings on the hill opposite. It was the perfect crime really, because the mine was virtually inaccessible, and nobody saw anyone leaving or arriving.

  So many people had simply vanished from the village, practically overnight, that most of the villagers were living in fear that they would be the next to disappear without a trace. Simon wondered if the nosiest had gone first, but given the marshes that lay around the moors knew he would never get any proof. As a result of the unanswered disappearances of their own, it had been virtually impossible to get any of the villagers to talk to them about anything. Luckily, Archie had recognised one of the men as a gang member who had been working out of St Issey, and another fitted the description Hugo gave them of one of the men he had seen enter the country in the wee small hours of the morning. It had been all they needed to know they were on the right trail.

  Simon shifted uncomfortably, keeping one eye on the tunnel entrance and one eye on the back of the house in case anyone returned to the property.

  Moments later, both Archie and Pie reappeared and made their way over to him. Searching the house was the easy part of tonight’s operation. What they had to do next was most probably one of the most dangerous things he had ever done in his entire life. The tunnel entrance was open; clearly the smugglers hadn’t seen the need to block it to prevent anyone else gaining access, probably because m
ost people were just too scared to challenge them.

  There was no way of getting to the tin mine separately. They all had a better chance of getting out alive if they stayed together. The complex web of tunnels and exploration shafts on the map Mr Kempton had given them was simply mind-boggling. Unfortunately, that meant that if they came across anyone coming toward them, they had no option but to fight and hope they weren’t hemmed in on both sides.

  Lighting their torches, Simon took the lead and led his colleagues down into the bowels of hell. In parts the sides of the shaft were so tight that they had to shuffle sideways; the ceilings so low that they had to crouch down and shuffle forward on hands and knees. They had to stop several times to get their bearings and make sure they were using the right shaft, and once or twice had to stop because they were certain they heard someone moving. But with their senses dulled by the close confines, it was difficult to tell if they were just hearing their own noise.

  It seemed to take far too long before the shaft began to open once more, allowing them the space to be able to stand upright again. None of them spoke, instead resorting to using the hand signals they had been trained to use when stealth was required. At the first opportunity Pie took over the lead, leaving Simon to follow and Archie to bring up the rear.

  They reached the last few feet when they became aware of a sentry walking slowly past the entrance. With their vision of the area narrowed by the high walls on either side of them, Pie shuffled forward to peer into the room bathed in soft candlelight. They waited until the guard passed again before Pie leapt forward and took the man out. Dragging his body into the shaft took no time, leaving Simon and Archie free to search the room. At the far side, next to the bank of windows, sat a door that connected with what he presumed was an office. It was the room that Simon had seen a candle burning in the window on a nightly basis. It remained in the window, flickering away gently until just before dawn when it was extinguished and the guard circling the perimeter of the mine disappeared.