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A Dangerous Damsel (The Countess Scandals)

Page 12

by Kimberly Bell

“Port town a few hours down the coast,” Tristan answered for her.

  “A few hours?” Darrow eyed his mount distastefully. “That would be both ways, or . . .”

  “One way,” Deidre answered. “Rule number one, Tom. Don’t make trouble where you sleep.”

  “Sound advice, certainly, but a few hours seems extremely inconvenient.”

  “What’s inconvenient,” Tristan said as he led his mount past the portcullis, “is stepping out for a piss and running smack into a mark you took last week, along with four of his friends.”

  Deidre remembered that day. They’d made a mess of him. It had taken one of Deidre’s most valuable favors to get a doctor to patch him back together. Tris had always insisted on learning things the hard way, but at least he didn’t fight her on that particular rule anymore.

  She swung up onto her horse when they were clear of the castle’s detritus. “No matter how good you are at covering your tracks or disguising your face, random chance is always ready to foul things up for you.”

  “Did you also have a run-in with a mark?” Darrow asked her.

  Tristan laughed. “Dee? Naw. She never breaks the rules.”

  She had, once, but Tristan didn’t need to know that. It was before they’d gone to Glasgow when he was still too young to remember. They hadn’t eaten in days and she couldn’t leave him alone for the time it would take to go to another town. She’d made a good haul, picking enough pockets to feed them well for a week and get a winter coat for Tris.

  A few days later, one of her unwitting benefactors recognized her and followed her. He’d taken his money’s worth from her, and then some. It was the first time Deidre realized her looks came with very serious side effects—she would never be anonymous in a crowd—and the end of her career as a market pickpocket. He’d offered to keep her as a mistress after, but she’d taken Tris and snuck out of town that same night. Like Tris, she’d never made that mistake again.

  Something about her posture or face must have betrayed her.

  “I was caught once,” Tom said quietly. He hooked his finger into his collar, pulling it down to reveal a raised rope scar along his throat. “I’d just as soon not be caught again.”

  Deidre nodded. It went a long way toward explaining Tom Darrow’s easy cooperation. Scars like that, and surviving them, put a fear in you that you could never quite shake. “That’s what the rules are for.”

  “Are there more?” Tom asked.

  Tris laughed. “Bloody hell, yes. Too many.”

  Deidre scowled at his back. “There are five main rules.”

  “And a couple hundred more she’s made up to menace a man and take all the fun out of life.”

  “Right now, you only need to be concerned with the first five,” she said, ignoring Tristan. “You already heard the first one. Rule number two—”

  “The only person you can trust is yourself,” she and Tristan said in unison.

  Tom laughed. “But you trust each other.”

  “No we don’t,” Tristan said earnestly.

  “We love each other, but that’s not the same thing.”

  “It’s not?”

  “If I trusted Tristan to hold up his end,” Deidre explained, “I’d be dead ten times over by now.”

  “And if I trusted Dee to always know what the hell she was talking about, I’d be a virgin scholar in some monastery.” He shuddered.

  “You’d be better off,” Deidre promised even though she knew it was futile. She’d long since given up on Tristan becoming a priest. Now she’d just settle for him dying of natural causes.

  Tristan shook his head. “Says you. I like my life.”

  “Short as it may be.”

  “Can’t live forever, Dee.”

  Tom watched their back and forth. “You truly don’t trust each other?”

  “Darrow, no matter how much someone might want to come through for you, there’s always a chance they’ll fail. If you’re not prepared for that, it could be the end of you.”

  Tristan nodded his agreement. After a moment, Darrow did, too. “All right. What’s the third?”

  “Tristan?”

  “Rule number three: Always have an escape plan,” he called out to the trees.

  “Especially when you’re needlessly drawing attention to yourself,” she chided.

  Tristan smiled back at Darrow. “That’s one of those extra rules I was telling you about.”

  “Funny how they only come up when you’re doing something idiotic.” Which was more often than not since Tris had started fancying himself grown.

  They spent a good portion of the ride going over escape plans—where to go, where not to go. The best ways to evade the watch once they were on to you. Darrow had done his fair share of the latter and had plenty of opinions to contribute. Deidre picked his brain for what he knew about the local enforcement while they rode.

  Eventually they made it around to rule number four.

  “Never need anyone more than they need you,” Deidre told Tom.

  “That’s a cold way to live.”

  “But necessary if you don’t want to end up stuck under someone’s thumb. Or worse.”

  “I see.” Darrow thought about that for a moment. “And Lord Broch Murdo needs you more than you need him?”

  Too clever by half. Deidre could use that, if she could keep it from turning on her.

  “Of course he does,” Tristan answered for her. “How else is he going to make money?”

  “He seems fairly capable. I don’t know that I’d count on him being helpless.”

  “We’re not.” Deidre shot a glare in her brother’s direction. “But we already got what we needed from him. If the time comes to move on, we won’t be in bad shape.”

  “So you’re staying because—”

  “It’s a profitable endeavor for us both.”

  “And Dee can’t keep her hands off him,” Tristan added. Her brother clicked his horse into a trot, rightly suspecting she’d smack him a good one if he were in range.

  Darrow’s smile was appreciative. “Lord MacMurdo is a very lucky man.”

  “My brother has an active imagination.”

  “And a working set of eyes,” Tris called back. “Which leads us straight to rule number five.”

  Cheeky jackanapes. Deidre would have to be more careful about how she behaved around Ewan when Tristan was around.

  “What’s the fifth?” Darrow asked.

  Deidre could feel Tristan’s smirk, even though she couldn’t see it. “The moment you’re not in control, get out.”

  Tom raised a questioning eyebrow at her. They could smirk and joke all they wanted—she was still in control. She was almost sure of it.

  ***

  “Absolutely nae.”

  Rose stood with him in the great hall. “She said it’s the only way she’ll go.”

  His grandmother was incredible. Truly incredible. “Why would she possibly want ye to stay here without her?”

  Darrow’s thugs streamed past them carrying trunks out to the waiting carriage. Ewan supposed it was a blessing they still had a carriage, even though it would be leaving with Iona.

  “I’m sure she just—”

  “I want someone I trust here to let me know when I can return.” Iona descended the stairs with imperious grace.

  “That’s easy then. Ye cannae.” Ewan turned back to his childhood friend. “Rose, pack yer things.”

  “Rose, dinnae move,” Iona commanded.

  “Iona—” Ewan warned.

  “Ye will refer to me as Lady Broch Murdo,” the older woman snapped. “When this ruffian scheme ye’ve cooked up with yer gypsy whore fails and ye abandon yer duty once more, Rose will send for me.”

  Lord, this woman could make him angry. Ewan forced his fists to unclench. “Y
er nae welcome back here.”

  “We shall see.”

  A timid hand touched his arm. “Just let me stay, Ewan. If you do, she’ll leave right now and you can worry about the rest later.”

  Worrying about the rest later was how he’d gotten into this mess. He didn’t want Rose here, surrounded by criminals—especially not with the myriad complications of his developing feelings for Deidre. He didn’t know what was in store for them and he could not guarantee he could protect her.

  He looked at his grandmother’s rigid expression. She’d looked much like that when she’d told him to stop crying about his mother because it made his father angry. Hot rage washed over him.

  “Fine. She stays, but ye go. Right now.”

  A curt nod was her only answer. She sailed out the doors after her luggage.

  “Ewan?” Rose’s hand hovered over his arm uncertainly.

  “See her off. I’m sure she’ll want to say good-bye.” He wasn’t sure. For all he knew, Iona’s relationship with Rose was as cold as the rest of her, but he was no fit company for a woman of Rose’s delicate sensibilities at the moment.

  Rose hurried off with a backward look when she reached the door. Ewan smiled, doing his best to look calm and unaffected. When she disappeared from view, he sent his clenched fist flying into the stone wall next to him.

  Blinding pain erased everything for a few blissful moments. When it faded to a steady throbbing, the anger was back to a simmer.

  “Have ye broken it?” Angus asked from the shadow of a doorway.

  He should have known the old man wouldn’t be far. “Nae quite.”

  Angus looked it over. “Well, that’s the day done then. I ought to shame ye into more lifting on account of yer an idiot, but I’d just end up doing most of the work.”

  Ewan didn’t argue. “I’ll go see if they’ve managed to get the handholds put in on the cliff trail.”

  “See if ye can avoid falling off,” Angus advised.

  Chapter 14

  Deidre shifted her position on Darrow’s lap, running her fingers through the hair at his temple.

  “Hearts.” Her sultry murmur was low, right against his ear, so only Tom could hear.

  He pretended she’d said something provocative. “Oh aye, there’ll be plenty of that later, love. Hold yer horses.”

  Now Tris knew his hearts would be good at the end of the round.

  Her brother had arrived before them, getting a place at the card table early to dissuade suspicion. Deidre had explained the system of indicators she and Tris had developed over the years to tell each other which cards they were holding. It was a lot to learn in an evening, so if Darrow was confused on a sign he’d squeeze Deidre’s thigh and she would whisper confirmation to him. It wasn’t a foolproof gambit, but in a four-handed game, knowing half the cards made it very difficult to lose.

  While they played, they worked. Darrow took on the role of a loquacious merchant looking for ill-advised ways to squander his money. His portrayal wasn’t perfect, but Deidre’s presence helped sell the story of his success. No one with empty pockets could afford a woman that looked like her. Tristan took on a quiet, menacing persona. She hadn’t been convinced that was the best idea, but the tavern they’d chosen near the docks seemed to be empty of any truly menacing individuals, so hopefully he wouldn’t be called on to back it up.

  It was all part of the plan. This was the tavern frequented by men from the docks, and they were waiting for sailors from the ship they scouted out earlier that was rumored to deal in illicit cargo. When Deidre saw them walk in, it was time for the plan to advance to the next step.

  “Time to take me to bed,” she murmured to Tom.

  “Sweeter words were never heard,” he whispered back. At the close of the next hand, he gathered up his winnings. “Sorry, lads. This one’s getting antsy for some fun.”

  They went upstairs to the room they’d rented to allay suspicions. While she waited, Deidre counted out the winnings. “Not a bad haul, especially considering it wasn’t why we came.”

  Tom let his accent fall away again. “Have you thought about just doing that?”

  “Card swindling? Nah. Too dangerous. Word gets around fast with gamblers.”

  Tom nodded. He sat on the sagging bed with his ankles crossed. “So what’s next?”

  “In about five minutes,” Deidre explained while she mussed up her hair and rubbed the back of her hand roughly across her lips, “I’ll head back down and see what’s what.”

  “Five minutes?” Darrow was properly offended. “Couldn’t you wait a bit longer?”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Your insufficiencies as a lover will be one of my primary inroads to conversation.”

  Tom sighed. “At least I used a fake name.”

  “There’s the spirit.” She turned to him, tugging her bodice out of place. “How do I look?”

  “Like you’ve been unsatisfactorily tumbled.”

  Deidre grinned. It was almost a shame she didn’t trust anyone. Under different circumstances she might actually like Tom Darrow. “Don’t go falling asleep now. You’re out the back window and meeting Tris behind the barn in ten. I’ll see you outside.”

  She scooped up the money and headed back downstairs. At the bar, she deliberately tripped into Tristan, transferring most of the money to his pocket.

  “Sorry, so sorry. That was clumsy of me.” She smiled.

  He frowned, but said nothing.

  Deidre flitted down the bar toward the corner where her targets were. She ordered a pint for herself, and tried to look bored. It didn’t take long.

  “Did ye lose your man, luv?”

  “Wasn’t much of one,” she answered. “Thought I’d see what else was about.”

  They invited her to sit down.

  From there, it was too easy. Deidre laughed at the right times, flirted shamelessly with them both, and played them off each other until they were falling all over themselves to impress her.

  “I’m done with honest men,” she declared. A strategic hiccup lent validity to the inebriation she was pretending. “From now on, only cheats and thieves.”

  The men laughed. “Why’s that then?”

  “Better lovers,” she slurred. “They don’t fumble about. Quick hands.”

  They laughed again.

  “I’m serious,” she insisted. “You lot seem like fun, but if you ain’t got a bit of bad in you, I’m not having it.”

  The burlier of the two men—Liam, he’d told her—leaned close. “I’ve got a bit of bad I can show ye.”

  “We both do,” his partner chimed in.

  Deidre squinted at the first man, feigning double vision and touching their noses together. “Prove it.”

  They conferred quietly among themselves. Deidre let her attention wander around the room, throwing flirtatious smiles at anyone who paid her any mind.

  “All right, all right,” Liam said. “Let’s just take her to the ship.”

  “If she tells anyone—” his partner warned.

  “She won’t. Look at her.”

  Deidre chose that moment to wobble precariously on her chair. She righted herself with a smile, followed by a small celebratory cheer for her reflexive prowess.

  “Yeah, all right,” the partner agreed.

  As they left the tavern, Deidre made certain she produced enough noise and lewd suggestions to keep them from noticing that Tom and Tristan started following behind them.

  “How we gonna get her on board?” the partner pondered as they walked. “That new boatswain said no whores.”

  “I ain’t a whore!” Deidre protested.

  Liam grinned. “See, Niall, she ain’t a whore.”

  “Close enough.”

  “Oi!” Deidre stopped in front of Niall with a raised finger. She held it up fo
r a long moment before breaking down into a giggle. She wrapped her arms around his neck, plastering her curves to his body. “I’m just friendly. Let’s all be friendly, Niall. Can we?”

  Niall stood still, looking down at her. “Bloody hell. All right, but yer gonna have to distract him while I sneak her on.”

  “Will do, friend. Will do.”

  The ship they arrived at wasn’t particularly impressive, but it was seaworthy. That, and a talent for circumventing the law, was all that Deidre required. As promised, Liam went off to distract the boatswain while Niall snuck her below. He showed her a hidden panel, behind which was stashed stacks of furs.

  Deidre pretended not to understand. “Why do you keep them back there?”

  “They’re from New France,” Niall explained, nervously watching the door. “We smuggle them in.”

  “Oooh.” She ran her fingers over the top of the stack. They were good quality.

  A commotion started up on the deck. Niall hastily closed up the hidden stash. “Time to go.”

  When they climbed back up, instead of following Niall toward the railing, Deidre crossed the center of the ship.

  “Lass! Lass, get back here,” Niall whispered furiously.

  She came up behind the boatswain, who was barring Tristan and Darrow from boarding the ship.

  “Ye ain’t got no business on this ship,” he told Tristan.

  “Actually, they do.” Deidre dropped all pretense of inebriation. “We have a business proposition for your captain.”

  The boatswain turned, cursing roundly. “Where’d you come from?”

  “Below decks. Is the captain aboard?”

  “How in the—” The boatswain caught sight of Niall. To say he became livid would be an understatement.

  “Ye tricked us,” Liam accused from where he was lurking.

  “I did. But if you go get the captain,” she explained, “he may thank you instead of marooning you.”

  As it turned out, there was no need. They’d made enough of a fuss to bring the captain out of his quarters to investigate.

  “What’s all this then?” the captain asked. “Why am I marooning able-bodied sailors?”

  “You’re the captain?” Deidre asked.

 

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