by Gwyn Cready
“Where is he, Colonel?” Undine said sharply. “Where is James Bond?”
Serafina’s worry turned to panic. “Bridgewater’s involved?”
The colonel’s face took on the most horrified look. “Oh, Undine, forgive me. I forgot he was your friend.”
Undine approached him and laid a hand on his cheek. “John, listen to me. Whatever you’ve done, you must tell me, aye?”
He dropped his head into his upraised palms, closed his eyes, and began to cry. “He’s gone, Undine. He’s gone.”
Fifty
The carriage took the turn so sharply, Serafina felt it lift onto two wheels.
“Remember Bridgewater can’t recall what happened,” Undine said to her. “Gerard could very well be at the Hollow Crown right now. Do not give way to fear.”
“’Twill hardly help to kill her on the way,” Edward said to Undine, whom he blamed for the carriage’s speed, and put his arm protectively around Serafina. Serafina wished Mrs. Turnbull had asked for anything but this.
Undine didn’t reply. Abby and Duncan, the other two occupants of the carriage, held their tongues but gazed at Serafina anxiously.
“One more turn,” Undine said, looking out the window.
The carriage banged to a stop, and Serafina clattered out.
Fifty-one
Gerard came to awareness with a slap on the cheek followed quickly by another. He opened his eyes. Somewhere in the far reaches of his memory, he recognized the blur of a face.
“Stay with me now,” the man said.
“Is he dead?”
“Aye, ye clot-heid. That’s why he’s blinking and moving his mouth.”
“My sister’s going to want money for the bedding.”
“You may pay your sister from your share.”
Gerard coughed and stretched. His shoulder throbbed and his wrists and ankles burned. He was naked and cold despite the warmth of a small fire. His mouth tasted of dirt.
“Where am I?”
The man he knew as Harrow answered. “A safe place—for now at least.”
“And it’s 1706?”
“Och, the man’s lost his mind.”
“Is it?” Gerard demanded.
“Aye, laddie.”
“You rescued me?”
“You could say that. When the colonel finished with ye, we offered to dump you on St. Leonard’s Hill.”
“Is that where I am?”
“Och, no. You’re in the house of Bill’s sister in the city.”
“Thank you for helping me.”
“Aye, well, there was a bit o’ debate on whether you’d keep your word, but in the end we decided ’twould be worth the risk.”
Gerard blinked. Keep his word? Then it came to him. The ten percent. He’d never been so grateful for a service charge.
“Who doubted my word?” Gerard looked at Bill and Cambers, who pointed to Harrow.
Harrow shrugged.
“Well, thank you again.” Gerard shivered at a memory of that burning brand.
“We didna do it for thanks. We want our money.”
“Can you get it to us?” Bill inquired.
“I can. Can you get me to the Hollow Crown? There’s someone I need to see.”
Harrow groaned. “Bill, get a clean pair of trews from your sister’s husband. I ain’t helping a man this dirty through the streets of Edinburgh. I don’t care how late it is.”
* * *
Gerard went up the stairs slowly, feeling a stab of pain with every step. Harrow watched him from the Hollow Crown’s dining room below, and Bill and Cambers had taken their places at opposite corners of the building outside, to ensure he didn’t escape. Gerard knocked, desperate to see Serafina, but too afraid to open the door.
The woman who opened the door was not Serafina, Abby, or Undine. It was a servant woman he’d seen his first night there.
“Och, come in,” she said. “I was just getting the fires going. There’s to be a small toast tonight—or so the note said.”
“A toast?”
“To celebrate an upcoming wedding,” she said, sniffing. “In the middle of the night! In my day, brides and grooms married in daylight. I dinna mind cutting up the cold fish pie, but fresh straw for the mattress seems coming at it a bit high—”
“Who’s getting married?” Gerard asked.
“I would have thought you. A messenger came. That’s all I know.”
Gerard collapsed in the chair, undone.
“Will ye be wanting anything else?” she asked.
He waved his hand. “Go.”
He wished Harrow and his men had left him on St. Leonard’s Hill.
But you wanted her to marry him, he said to himself.
Fuck you. I wanted her to marry me.
He dragged himself to standing and walked slowly into Abby and Duncan’s room. He slipped off the shirt and trews—too loose and too ugly. If Serafina were to be married to Edward, he would at least look presentable when they toasted the news.
He pulled off the second boot and stopped. On the table in the sitting room sat the half-empty bottle of Kerr whiskey, the one Serafina had drunk from to call him here. What if wanting to leave was enough to make it happen? What if he could drink the stuff and end up in New York, drunk, numb, and memory-less. Wouldn’t that be better than this?
As he opened Duncan and Abby’s wardrobe, he saw himself in the mirror. The brand on his shoulder, a large M in a circle, was a pulpy black mess. The brand expert branded. He nearly smiled.
His hand hovered over a pair of breeks, once the most natural choice for his sensibilities, hanging in the wardrobe, but came to rest on a crimson Kerr plaid. He’d never seen himself as a true Scot before, but after the evening he’d just spent with Bridgewater, he’d never see himself any other way. He drew on a sark, wrapped the plaid around his waist as Serafina had shown him, and pinned the fabric over his shoulder.
Those English bastards damn well better prepare for what this malefactor put in their way.
The hallway door opened and the voices of his friends filled the sitting room. He limped to the doorway.
Duncan saw him first. The bottle he was carrying crashed to the floor. “Holy shite.”
Serafina turned. Her face underwent a transformation akin to the birth of a star and almost as life-giving. Gerard’s knees began to give way, and he remained upright only by clamping himself to the door frame.
Edward, whose arm she’d released, said, “Serafina,” but she paid no attention to him.
She flew into Gerard’s arms, and he pulled her tight.
“Get him out of here,” Gerard said to Duncan, who needed no further explanation to usher Edward firmly out of the room. Undine and Abby wore a mixture of shock and happy fascination on their faces.
“Are you to be married?” Gerard demanded.
Serafina looked at him, shocked. “What? No. Why?”
“The woman who works here said there was to be a toast to an upcoming wedding.”
Serafina laughed and pointed to Abby, who wore a wide smile.
“Ours,” Abby said. “Duncan’s and mine.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Gerard said. He pulled Serafina to him and kissed her, her lips more reviving than air. “I love you, Sera. I was so afraid I’d lost you.”
When they could bear a small break in their desperate quest for reassurance, she said, “I couldna marry Edward, though he bullied and pleaded. I am meant for you,” she said, swallowing, “no other.”
“You are.” He swung her into the light of the fire, watching the flames dance in her hair. “I know why you told me no when I asked you to go to my time with me.”
Her eyes, so blue, turned as transparent as sky. “Why?”
“Because you could never love a man who wanted to save
you by carrying you away from the battleground. I should have known better. You’d rather die condemned than live a coward.”
Her eyes clouded. “You nearly broke my heart when ye said it. I know it’s foolish of me—”
“It’s not foolish.” Gerard bent his head to hers. “I’m sorry.”
“What happened?” she whispered. “With Bridgewater?”
“I was saved by three men who believe in the true worth of labor.”
Duncan’s brow went up. “Verra progressive.”
“And I won’t rest until I repay them for their help,” Gerard said.
Duncan frowned. “How much?”
“Only ten pounds.”
Serafina grinned. “Perhaps I can help. Between you, me, and Abby, we sold nearly seventy pounds’ worth of chemises and frocks last night—and we have more ladies coming to the tailor today!”
“Though Lady Hiscock canceled her order,” Abby said.
Gerard cleared his throat. “And I’m afraid you’re never going to see the thirty pounds from Elizabeth Hiscock. I offended her rather badly.”
“In fact,” Serafina said, “she paid me before we left the party.” Serafina shared a confidential smile with Undine. “It seems she had a change of heart, if not about you, then at least about me and the dress.”
“Really?” Gerard asked.
“Oh, aye. I have a wee story to tell you about what happened after you disappeared.”
“Well, I have a story to tell you too. I know where your cargo is”—he held up his hand to stop her question—“but before I tell you, the rules of chivalry require me to remind you that if you marry Edward, besides repairing your reputation, Edward will have the ship, which means you’ll have it too. And Mrs. Turnbull hinted she may leave a bequest for you.” Gerard staunchly refused to mention the bequest stipulation Mrs. Turnbull had in mind for her son so as not to give Serafina any reason to think Edward’s affections for her were driven by greed. “But if you marry me—and I mean properly marry—I will have nothing and you will have a half share of that. Your reputation will improve only as much as being married to a penniless but devoted husband may permit.”
Her eyes sparked piratically as she considered the two options. “You know what I choose, Gerard Innes. Now where is that cargo?”
He chose to interpret her declaration as one of love, especially given the warmth of her arms around him. “The cargo is on La Trahison.”
“Again?” she cried.
“Yes, but if we take it,” he said, “Edward’s going to be royally pissed, and you’ll destroy any chance you have of sharing in its ownership with him.”
An irresistible curve rose at the corner of her mouth. “Screw Edward Turnbull,” she said. “Let’s steal a ship.”
Fifty-two
“Let’s imagine for the moment no one had been after us,” Gerard said, standing in the ship’s bow behind her and holding her arms out to her side like a T as the wind blew her hair, “and our walk through Hiscock’s garden had taken us to the hedgerow maze. Would you have allowed me to make love to you there? Or even insisted?”
La Trahison cut through the water like a knife, and she smiled blissfully, making him very happy. He didn’t even mind she still wore that brown plaid dress they’d thought Edward had had made for Elizabeth. The threads in it sparkled in the midday sun.
“You’re asking theoretically?” she said.
“Aye, of course. It’s not like I’m planning to take you back there some night after dark and sneak onto the property just to have you in the midst of all that greenery, your stockinged legs wrapped around my back and the moon casting a magical glow over us.”
She gave him a narrow look over her shoulder. “It sounds as if this theoretical question has been thought out rather thoroughly.”
“Och,” he said, “you know me. I’m nothing if not thorough.”
She pursed her mouth. “I would not have. I am not in the practice of taking gentlemen in the open-air gardens of noblemen I hardly know.”
“So, you’re saying if you knew Hiscock better…?”
“’Tis not what I’m saying at all.”
He kissed her neck. “Not among the rosebushes and their heady scent, with me buried between your thighs?”
“Och, I shouldna care for the pricks.”
And nibbled her ear. “Not in the spray of the fountain, with me making my offering to your naked Artemis?”
“I should have thought you’d prefer the offering being made to your naked Adonis.”
He groaned happily. Many offerings on both sides had been made in the last two days. He’d found each one of them worthy of being enshrined in mythology.
With a pleased sigh, he pressed his hips against her just hard enough for her to notice.
“Is this why you insist on having us stand this way?” she asked, arms still outstretched. “’Tis very odd.”
“And surely,” he whispered into the warm tangle of her hair, “you would have succumbed to some suggestion in the heady scents of that orangery—”
“Oh, Gerard,” she said, turning. “I still can’t believe Colonel Bridgewater is in love with Undine. How powerful a potion was it?”
“Do ye not find me lovable?” asked Undine, who, as usual, had appeared out of nowhere.
“I find you verra lovable,” said Serafina, jumping back to the deck with an agile leap, “and verra foolish. I canna believe you intend to let him woo you.”
“There are things I can learn if I have access to his quarters and private correspondence,” Undine said, unperturbed. “There’s rot in the Scottish Parliament—and the English one as well—rot which needs to be excised. There’s no chance I’ll succumb to his advances—as we seem to be speaking of succumbing,” she added meaningfully to Gerard, who reddened.
Serafina said, “I still don’t understand how he came to be in possession of a love potion you made.”
Gerard shifted. He’d told Serafina nearly everything, but not that he’d hoped to trick Edward into falling in love with her.
Undine shrugged. “I suppose somebody stole it from me—someone who is probably quite grateful he didn’t end up using it himself.”
“I don’t like it, Undine,” Serafina said. “Bridgewater is a brute.”
Undine’s face softened. “You are good to worry. But you mustn’t trouble yourself too much. I’m well trained in the handling of brutes—though I wouldn’t mind having someone as quick-witted as me to help.”
“I know she’s not talking about me,” Gerard said to Serafina.
“I’m not talking about either of you. Wits aside, I wouldn’t put either of you in such a position again.”
“Well, I reserve the right to break a kneecap or two of his when you finish,” Gerard said grumpily. “And I want Serafina’s earrings back.”
Serafina squeezed his hand.
“I assure you, Bridgewater will endure worse than broken kneecaps before this is over,” Undine said. “I have my spells, remember. Speaking of which, I’m glad my spells have some limitations.” She touched the ring on Serafina’s left hand, the same ring that had caused her so much consternation the morning of Gerard’s arrival.
The joy on Serafina’s face matched the joy he was feeling.
“I am too,” Serafina said. “Thank goodness Duchamps was willing to marry us.”
“Even after we hijacked his ship,” Gerard said. “It’s clear the man’s in love with you, which is why he threw away the note you’d left for me.”
Duncan and Abby climbed the stairs, smiling at the happy couple.
“Duncan, I’ve been looking for you,” Undine said. “Did you find that bottle of Kerr whiskey, the rather infamous one that brought Gerard to us?” She gave Serafina a look.
“You brought it here?” Serafina giggled. “That’s playing with fir
e, isn’t it?”
“I thought Gerard would be needing it,” Undine said. “I left it among the medicine bottles I found in the case in the captain’s quarters.”
Duncan frowned. “The case stamped ‘Inverness’? That wasn’t medicine. That was wine, and the case went on the last ship.”
Undine blinked. “Oh, dear.”
“Where do you suppose it’s going?” Serafina said.
“I think I know,” Gerard said, “but give me three hundred years or so just to be sure.”
“And Harrow and his men have their money?” Sera asked.
“Oh, yes,” Gerard said. “Each has a pocketful—with an extra share for Bill’s sister. I think they rather like life at sea. We couldn’t have made our way onboard without them.”
“They certainly seemed to have outwitted Duchamps easily enough,” Duncan said.
“If one considers knocking him on the head with a cudgel outwitting, yes,” Gerard said. “I’m just glad he could do the wedding ceremony from his cot.”
Sera made a long, happy sigh. “My life is perfect—though I suppose we’ll have to return the La Trahison at some point.”
“It is in Edward’s name,” Undine said.
Serafina gazed at the vast expanse of blue sparkling in the midday sun. “What will happen to him?” she asked meekly.
While her heart belonged to Gerard, he knew she’d never stop caring about her former fiancé—and he found that surprisingly reassuring.
“We may never know who was betraying whom,” Undine said, “but here’s my theory. Edward needed investors to make his last bet on cargo pay off. Hiscock and Bridgewater were happy to help. Shipping can be a good investment, and in any case, they could use the cargo to sneak in whatever they needed. I believe the three of them decided to have the cargo taken by ‘pirates,’ so they could pay off their investment with insurance money and still make a profit on the cargo by reselling it.”
Serafina heaved a long mock sigh. “’Twas nice for a moment thinking of La Trahison as mine.”
Gerard smiled. “I warned you. You had a chance to marry Edward and have this ship for your very own.”