A Dangerous Deceit (Thief-Takers)

by Alissa Johnson

  Good God, six years? The villagers had mentioned they’d not seen her in ages. But no one had been able to say exactly how long. He would never have guessedsix years.

  She took a long, hard breath through her nose, crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at him. “I still have your gun, Sir Gabriel. Tell me what you’ve done with my family.”

  He couldn’t tell her everything. In part because his plan, like all good plans, was a work in progress. One should always be flexible in one’s strategies. More important, the less Jane knew, the safer she, and the Harmons, would be.

  “The Harmons are with Mr. Fulberg,” he said. “He’s taking them to Edinburgh.”

  “I don’t know Mr. Fulberg. Ishe a spy?”

  “No, he was a police officer until recently. Now he’s a private investigator. Just as I am.”

  “Are you?” she asked with open suspicion. “You told me you didn’t know what the Foreign Office was after amongst my brother’s things, but you knew what that list was the moment I showed it to you.”

  “I had suspicions after speaking with Kray. The list merely confirmed them. Its contents are unmistakable.”

  “Not to me,” she ground out.

  “It’s a list of informants. Men and women Edgar paid for information he passed on to his superiors at the Foreign Office. There are any number of people who would offer a fortune to know who’s been selling Russian secrets.”

  “And that’s what Mr. Kray wants, is it? To sell the list?” She waited for his nod. “Then why didn’t we turn it and him over to the constable? There are men in town who could be hired to help guard them.”

  “Not quickly. Kray’s men would have freed him before your constable found his first volunteer. Or the constable might have freed Kray himself. Kray would have been smart enough to make certain the man was in his pocket before even coming to Twillins.”

  She seemed to consider this, then looked behind her, toward the direction of Ardbaile. “I met him once, the constable,” she said. “He was quite kind to me.”

  He knew what she was thinking. They hadn’t come very far from the village. She could walk back, seek help from someone she believed to be honorable.

  “Dishonorable men can be kind when it suits their purposes,” he said softly.

  “Yes.” She gave him a meaningful look. “I know.”

  He let her words roll right off his back, studiously ignoring the nasty trail of shame they left behind. He had lied and manipulated her. He was still lying to her, and, no doubt, he would lie to her again. Lying was what he did best. It was what he had always done, and it was what he would always do. What was the point in remorse if nothing ever changed?

  He cleared his throat to remove a sudden, uncomfortable tickle. “If that list falls into the wrong hands, it will endanger every person on it.”

  “Then we should have burned it.”

  “We need the names. It takes years to build that sort of network.”

  “I don’t care if it takes centuries,” she shot back. “I want the Harmons safe.”

  “They are safe. We’re going to keep them safe.”

  “How?”

  “By being decoys. We’re going to draw Kray and his men away from your friends.”

  “Do you mean bait? You’ve made mebait?”

  “Decoy,” he corrected. “I assumed you would want to do whatever was needed to keep the Harmons safe. Was I wrong?”

  “No.”

  He nodded once. “I could have sent you with Fulberg and the Harmons, but if I’d boarded the train alone, Kray might have concluded that the residents of Twillins Cottage had conspired to run off with the list, possibly with the aid of Mr. Fulberg, and left me to chase after you. That would have made you, and the Harmons, his primary target.”

  “He could still assume that the Harmons ran off with the list and we’re both trying to get it back.”

  “He’ll consider it. But I had access to the cottage a full twenty-four hours before anyone else. And you’re Edgar’s sister. Kray would be a fool to focus his efforts on the Harmons instead of us.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip as she considered his plan. “This still sounds as if we’re bait.”

  “We’re not bait. It’s not a trap. We’re just leading him on a chase away from your friends.”

  “Then we’re lures.”

  He manfully stifled a heavy sigh. “Fine. We’re lures.”

  “And the Harmons will be safe so long as he keeps chasing us?”

  It was on the very tip of his tongue to tell her yes. Of course they would be safe, so long as they kept to his plan and she did exactly as he said. He could ease her fears and ensure her cooperation with just a few quick words. But he could see the first hints of trust and hope in her expression, and the lie wouldn’t come.

  “I can’t make any promises,” he admitted. “Kray has considerable resources at his disposal. He might well send men to look for the Harmons. But not as many as he’ll send after us. I can promise you that.”

  She made a face and kicked at something on the ground. “I wish I had given you that list straightaway.”

  “So do I.”

  “Well, you’d not paid for it yet,” she snapped.

  “You wouldn’t let me pay for it without a contract and references,” he reminded her, mostly just to annoy her. He preferred her angry to worried and afraid.

  The tactic was, perhaps, a little too successful. She pressed her lips into a mutinous line and eyed a large stick at her feet.

  “There’s nothing to be gained by second-guessing our choices,” he said quickly. “We need to focus on what’s to be done going forward. And right now, all we have to do is keep Kray and his men occupied long enough for Fulberg to get the Harmons to safety.”

  “In Edinburgh,” she said with a nod. “And we’ll meet them there.”

  “We’ll meet them,” he hedged.

  “Right.” She nodded again, and swallowed hard. “Well.”

  She expelled a long breath and, suddenly, looked rather lost. Her gaze jumped around the trees, as if searching for something familiar in her surroundings. She rubbed her hands together slowly, the way one does before a fire on a cold day.

  Six years, he thought. Now here she was, standing in the woods several miles outside the other side of town. He couldn’t begin to imagine what that was like. How overwhelming it would be—like standing in a whole new world.

  “Here.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and closed the distance between them. She eyed him warily as he neared, but she didn’t step away. She stood still and silent as he reached up and gently brushed a smudge of dirt from her cheek, then another from her forehead. “Everything will be all right, Jane.”

  “It will be once we’re in Edinburgh, which—” She broke off at the distant sound of hoof beats. “Is there a road nearby? I didn’t think—”

  “No. Stay here.” He pointed at the ground. “Stay down. Out of sight.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he ran back the way they’d come. At the edge of the woods, he crouched low behind the brush and watched as eight riders flew past, four on each side of the railway tracks.

  Perfect.

  He hurried back to Jane the moment the riders were gone.

  “Was it them?” She asked from her crouched position behind a wide tree. “Mr. Kray and his men?”

  “Just his men. Eight of them following the tracks.” He offered his hand and helped her up.

  “Only eight? Have the rest gone after the Harmons?”

  He shook his head. “Kray will have kept a few of his men with him. Most of the others will likely be sent to investigate the nearest towns, but they’ll find no sign of Fulberg or the Harmons there. I’d say from the looks of it, he’s concentrating on us.”

  “Good. That’s good.” She exhaled another long, loud breath, then threw him a pointed look. “They willnever catch up with that train.”

  “Unlikely,” he conceded. “But there’s always th
e possibility the train will run into trouble along the tracks. Certainly, it will slow down well before reaching the next stop. Kray and his men might manage to draw near enough to see it.”

  “And see us,” she reasoned through. “If we had waited to jump.”

  “And if we’d waited to disembark at the next station, we’d be left with no more of a head start than we’d had in Ardbaile.”

  “But don’t we want them to follow us?”

  “Only the clues we leave.” Kray wasn’t going to get as close to Jane as he had been in Ardbaile. “Speaking of which, give me your bonnet.”

  “What?”

  “Your bonnet.” He held out his hand and waggled his fingers. “We need a bread crumb.”

  She hesitated, appearing confused, then gave a small nod of her head and obliged him. It took him only a moment to lope back to the grassy area next to the tracks and place the pretty bit of straw and velvet where it could easily be seen.

  The second he returned to Jane, he reached for her hand, only to have her pull away.

  “We have to go, Jane. They’ll follow the tracks back as soon as they realize we’re not on the train. They’ll find the bonnet quick enough.”

  She blinked at him and mumbled something under her breath about bread crumbs. Finally, she looked over her shoulder for one last glance in the direction of Ardbaile, then turned back with a look of fierce determination on her pretty face. “Which way, then?”

  Chapter Seven

  These woods were not so different from her own.

  Jane concentrated on that simple fact as Gabriel led her farther and farther away from her home.

  If she kept her eyes on her feet, she could almost convince herself that she’d not left the safety of Twillins Cottage. She could pretend she was taking a solitary walk on her own land. Out of the corner of her eye, the forest looked nearly identical to her own. It was the same blend of trees and brush, the same rocky ground. It even smelled the same, sounded the same.

  She was surrounded by the familiar, the safe. So long as she didn’t look up. The moment she did, the illusion was broken.

  These were not her woods. Sheknew her woods—every tree, sapling, bush and boulder. She knew where the tawny owl and the goshawk nested, which areas flooded or became muddy after a rain. She knew what lay beyond every curve of the path and at the top of every rise.

  “Look up, Jane.”

  She dragged her gaze from the ground at Gabriel’s voice. “What?”

  “You’ll give yourself a headache, keeping your eyes on the ground.”

  It was tempting to risk it, but she had sufficient trouble without adding illness to her burdens.

  “That’s better,” he commented when she fixed her sight straight ahead. Then he said something else, something she couldn’t make out at all.

  “I don’t wish to speak,” she replied quickly.

  “I thought we’d come to a truce.” He looked over at her when she didn’t comment. “We’ve some ways to go. It’s going to be a very long trip if you insist on hoarding your anger for the whole of it.”

  It was going to be a long trip regardless, she thought, and said nothing.

  In truth, her anger had already dulled. It wasn’t Gabriel’s fault that Edgar had sent her the blasted list. Nor was he responsible for the danger Mr. Kray posed.

  On the other hand, he’d manipulated her in a most atrocious manner. As long as the end result of his actions was the safety of her loved ones, however, she could forgive the insult.

  What shecouldn’t do was make easy conversation with him for hours on end. It simply wasn’t possible, not even in the relative peacefulness of the woods. She needed an excuse to remain silent, and anger was the easiest, most believable choice at hand.

  Gabriel didn’t speak as they continued on, but from time to time he threw glances in her direction, as if he were considering making another stab at conversation, or hoping she would.

  Determined to ignore him and, more important, the threat of panic that grew with every step she took away from Ardbaile, she searched for distractions. She did sums in her head, and tried to remember words to songs she’d not heard in years. She counted off steps between trees, identified flora and fauna, and tried to picture what the Harmons might be doing at that very moment. She focused on what little good fortune she could currently claim. She was wearing sturdy, comfortable shoes. Her corset was loosely laced. Years of hiking about her property had left her fit and strong, capable of walking as long as necessary.

  She did everything she could to pull her mind away from her fears and, for the most part, was quite successful. She didn’t panic. She didn’t break down in tears. She didn’t turn around and take off for home like a frightened hare dashing for its burrow.

  But she could still feel Gabriel looking over at her, watching her. It was disconcerting, his staring. And a little embarrassing, as she’d twice caught herself silently mouthing lyrics to the songs she was trying to remember.

  It was a relief when the woods grew thick and Gabriel was forced to walk ahead of her. As she watched him maneuver through the trees, her gaze settled on the slight curl of dark hair at the nape of his neck. She wondered if he would smell like the woods there, or if the scent would be undetectable while they were standing in an actual forest. She’d noticed the aroma on the train, just a hint of it when he’d leaned close to check for peepholes. And again when he’d leaned down to kiss her.

  She was trying hard not to think about that kiss. Contemplating why Gabriel had done it was one distraction she was happy to forgo. The answer was insultingly obvious. It had been an attempt to manipulate her, pure and simple.

  It was monstrously conceited of him, really, to imagine one kiss from him would befuddle her to such an extent that she would leap from a moving train without a second thought. Then again, it would be dishonest to pretend it hadn’t muddled her a little. There had been a moment there—a lovely, wicked, dangerous moment—where she’d quite forgotten herself, where nothing had existed except the two of them.

  But the few seconds that had seemed extraordinary to her had been ruthlessly manufactured by him. He hadn’t meant a second of it. Not onemeasly second. He hadn’t been overcome with passion in the midst of danger. He’d not taken her into his arms because he’d wanted to, because he found her irresistible. He’d been handling her—the not very clever, slightly mad recluse of Twillins Cottage.

  The blighter.

  Jane struggled to unclench the vicious grip she had on her skirts.

  Perhaps her anger hadn’t dimmed quite as much as she imagined. And maybe—she threw an icy glare at Gabriel’s back—maybe giving Sir Gabriel Arkwright the cold shoulder for what might end up being days wasn’t going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done.

  ***

  The silence would drive him mad.

  As Gabriel led the way through the woods, he kept an ear out for the sound of approaching riders, and his eyes peeled for potential escape routes and hiding spots.

  It was a pointless exercise. Kray’s men had no chance of catching up with them at present. He had purposefully chosen a path through the most overgrown portion of the forest. It left an easy trail to follow, provided there was an experienced tracker amongst their pursuers, but the brush was too thick and the ground too uneven for a horse to maneuver through at a pace faster than a walk. If Kray’s men were directly following their path, they were doing it on foot.

  It was always good to be prepared, however. Even better, the task gave him something to concentrate on besides the terrible urge to fill the silence and, infinitely worse, the urge to fill it with an apology.

  He wasn’t in the habit of apologizing for his lies. He didn’t see the use in it. What purpose did it serve to offer remorse for something he wouldn’t hesitate to do again? Jumping from the train had been necessary. A long, honest discussion about the matter hadn’t been possible.

  He’d only done what was needed, and he’d accomplished the job in
as quick and safe a manner as possible. That’s what mattered, wasn’t it?

  He told himself it was, that there was no call for an apology or further explanation.

  So why the devil did Jane’s determined silence prick at his conscience? And why the hell did a pricked conscience trouble him at all? He’d told more lies in his life than he could hope to remember. He’d deceived and manipulated so often it was nearly second nature to him now. He was accustomed to the sensation of guilt. The weight of it was a constant, unwelcome companion, one he’d learned to ignore before he’d even reached adulthood.

  But this wasn’t a weight, it was aprick. It had settled under the skin—an unfamiliar, nagging, tingling itch that wouldn’t let him alone. It made him feel restless and irritable. And every time he glanced behind him and was met with her stony expression, the feeling intensified. Every time he turned forward again, it was worse. He couldfeel her eyes boring into the back of his head.

  He suggested that they stop and rest a little earlier than was strictly necessary, simply for the excuse to turn around and face her.

  Slipping his bag from his shoulder, he retrieved an apple from inside and offered it to Jane. “There’s cheese and bread, if you prefer.”

  She shook her head and took a sudden, inexplicable interest in the forest canopy. “I’m not hungry, thank you.”

  He dropped the apple back in the bag and looked at her for the longest time, but she staunchly refused to meet his gaze.

  The silence dragged out, prickly, heavy, and infuriating. He couldn’t stand it. “I’m sorry I lied to you on the train.” He blurted the words out quickly, and a hair more gruffly than he intended.

  Finally, she deigned to give him her full attention. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said I’m sorry. I used your fear for the Harmons to manipulate you. It was badly done.” It had also been necessary. She’dneeded to jump from the train. But perhaps a cleverer man, a better man, might have found a different way.