Jones nodded, then his piggish eyes crinkled in confusion. "What's to keep ya' from swimmin' out from under the oars?"
Hal frowned as though that very thought hadn't occurred to him. "I suppose I could do that, couldn't I?" Again, he squinted, deep in thought. "Why not tie the oars to my arms? Then you can make sure I don't get away. You can even pull me up to make sure I'm done."
Jones mulled this suggestion over. He finally nodded and looked to Bertie for final agreement.
"All right, that seems like it'll work."
Bertie pulled two lengths of rope from his pocket. Well prepared thugs, weren't they?
"Here, like this." Hal showed the men how to tie the ropes around the handle of the oar and then loop the rope under his armpits.
Jones took one oar blade and pushed, sending Hal teetering near the edge.
"Yeah, that should work. Ready, Bertie?" Bertie grunted and nodded. "Ready, lad?"
"Let me pray, first." Hal bowed his head, gratified when Jones and Bertie followed suit. "Lord, I commend my body to the deep. I pray my soul the rest of the righteous. Amen."
"Amen," Jones intoned.
"Uh-huh," Bertie echoed.
"I really appreciate this, Jones." Hal offered his hand, first to Jones, then to Bertie. "All right, lads. I'm ready."
He walked to the edge of the dock, oars dragging the ground behind him. He felt the weight lessen as each thug picked up an oar blade, preparing to push him in and hold him under.
The shove came and Hal fell into the water, feet first. His last vision as the sewage covered his head and he closed his eyes was of Bertie and Jones reaching frantically for the oars. He could just dive and swim away, he thought, but he didn't need two angry throat-cutters chasing after him.
The lads had been uncommon sporting, except for making him walk, that is. Maybe he should let them live?
His lungs began to burn and he knew he'd have to decide soon. Up or away?
Hal kicked and paddled until he broke the surface of the shit-covered water.
"Aw," he moaned, swatting at a hairless tail as its owner swam by, tiny eyes glistening in the twilight. "Here, lads." Hal turned and managed to reach one oar and raise it up for Jones, then the other for Bertie. The men grabbed the blades and pushed him under again.
Hal eased back from the dock, estimating the length of the oars and how far the two men might be stretched over the edge of the dock. When he guessed they were leaning far enough over, he reached up, grabbed the oars and pulled as hard as he could.
Arms and legs churned the water in panic as though a school of sharks had happened upon a net of fish. Bertie grabbed out for Hal, his fingers again claiming an oar.
Now, Jones, come on. Grab hold. He waited until the man noticed the oar blade whacking him in the shoulder and reached for it as though the Virgin herself was offering to pull them out of the drink.
Here we go, lads. Hal stretched backward, kicking and pulling the two thugs further out away from the dock. Soon they were about one hundred yards out. If they were telling the truth and couldn't swim, they wouldn't make it back on their own.
Reaching down, Hal untied the ropes tethering him to the oars. Then he kicked himself to the surface and swam away, tossing the oars further out, removing any chance Jones and Bertie might have the presence of mind to grab for them.
One of the men-he thought it was Jones, because he yelled for help-surfaced and thrashed about. Hal looked back to shore to make sure nobody would be coming to their aid. Then he settled to a leisurely tread to wait for the end.
His Cherokee mother, though a good Christian, would have urged him to cut their throats and make sure they were no longer a threat. A tempting thought. His Scot father would want him to fight them, man-to-man. The pirate in him wanted to turn the men to his own service, but he decided they were too stupid to be any good at piracy or seamanship.
He could almost hear his Cherokee grandfather speaking in his slow, soft voice. Never be unkind to a dumb animal or a stupid man.
"Well, hell." Maybe if he saved their lives, they'd forget the whole thing. Hal dove beneath the surface filth and swam out to the men. He had trouble finding one of them, but soon he had a handful of each man's collar and was kicking his way back to shore on his back.
He pulled them both to a safe place to rest. They huffed and panted, too exhausted to try to follow him when he made his escape.
"Take care, friends. Tell your employer our deal is off. I won't hold a grudge if he doesn't." He patted Jones's cheeks.
Jones's only reply was to gurgle and spit.
"Remember, laddie. I could have let you both drown. Have some gratitude." With that, Hal glanced around for any sign of the sheriff. Seeing none, he loped down the shore toward Spring Moon's berth.
* * * *
Alex looked up from his book as Richard hurried into the parlor. "Hello, brother, what brings you here?"
"I have news of Elspeth." Richard stomped to the side table and helped himself to a large glass of port.
"Really?" Alex closed the book and set it on the table beside him. "What news?"
"She was abducted from my house. She didn't run away at all." Downing his port, Richard gasped a deep breath. "She's dead, Alex. Murdered. Damn!" The glass shattered as it hit the hearth.
Alex schooled his expression, digesting what Richard said. If not for knowing Elspeth slept cozily upstairs, he'd believe Richard's news, since Richard so clearly believed it.
"Where? Who?"
"I don't know. I got a message from Lancaster earlier today that her body had been found." He crossed the room and leaned on the mantle. "Gads, Alex! Why does everything happen to me?"
Alex almost laughed. "Indeed."
"Not only have I no heir from the bitch, now that ferret of a cousin of hers gets the Earldom. I'm ruined."
Not a bit of concern for his wife. Not a touch of grief for the splendid girl he thought dead.
"Alex, did I hear someone arrive?" Adelpha glided into the room.
Alex rushed to her side, catching her eye. "Richard is here, my dear."
He held his hand up to his brother, to stop him from saying anything that would shock Adelpha into an admission Alex did not want to happen. Richard must not know Elspeth was here.
He led his wife to a chair and sat her down, his eyes carefully on hers.
"Richard brings us grievous news, my dear."
"What?" she asked, her trusting gaze locked on his.
Please, my dear, catch my meaning.
"Adelpha, you know Elspeth disappeared from Sandgrove."
"Yes, I do." Her voice was strong, though her words were tentative, her eyes searching his.
Alex squeezed her hand. "Richard has word that Elspeth is... She is dead, my dear. Kidnapped and murdered."
Her hand flew to her mouth.
"No. No." She threw herself, shaking, into Alex's arms.
Alex stroked her hair, impressed with her ability to play the part of the grieving mother with such alacrity. He had new respect for womanly tears, even false ones. They certainly came in handy.
"Richard, please excuse me. Let me take Adelpha upstairs and get her something to help her sleep. This is a terrible shock."
Richard, engrossed in his own problems, waved them away and dropped his gaze to stare into the flames.
Alex closed the door behind them. "Dudley!" he called the butler.
Dudley appeared, as usual seemingly out of thin air, from a side corridor.
"Yes, sir," he approached the foot of the stairs.
"Come to the dowager Countess's rooms with a sleeping draught," he called loudly for Richard's benefit. Quietly, he ordered the man, "Bring the staff up to the Countess' suite immediately by the back stairs. No one is to go into the parlor until I tell you."
"Yes, sir." The old butler shuffled off to do as he was bid.
He and Adelpha went upstairs, but instead of going to Adelpha's rooms, Alex continued to the rooms Elspeth used, the suite
she'd used as a girl. After peering over the stairs at the parlor door, making sure Richard wasn't aware of all the activity, he opened the door, pushed Adelpha inside and followed.
"What? Mother?" Elspeth sat up in bed, her bedclothes pulled up to her chin. "Alex? What is this?"
"Sh-h-h-h!" Alex peered again and pushed the door shut. "Richard is down there. Elspeth, dear, you must not come down or let him know you are here. Keep your maid here with you as well. Do not come out or let her out until he is gone. Your mother can explain." Only then did he notice his wife wasn't crying, but laughing. His pride in her made a grin break out on his own face.
"He's so angry thinking Elspeth is dead." Adelpha sat at the dressing table and clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her mirth.
Once all the servants were assembled in Elspeth's room, Alex explained to them the need for secrecy.
"You all understand? You are not to reveal the Countess' whereabouts to anyone. That includes Viscount Sandgrove. Her life may be at risk." Alex's gaze moved down the rank of servants. They all nodded.
"But the Viscount is the lady's husband, sir."
Alex's valet had spoken and he was brother to Richard's man.
"Where is your loyalty, Portnoy? I would know now."
"To you, sir." Portnoy glanced around and, seeing the accusing eyes staring at him, added. "And to Lady Greymere, naturally."
"Naturally," Alex repeated. "You all understand how important this is?" The group of servant nodded as one. "Good. You may go about your duties."
The men tugged their forelocks and the women curtseyed, first to the Countess, then to Alex. It only occurred to him then that he had usurped her place in giving them their orders. After the door closed behind the last of them, he turned to her.
"Elspeth, I apologize-"
"Nonsense, Alex. I appreciate your quick thinking. I'd much prefer him assuming I'm dead for a time."
Resolved to fix the mess he'd brought upon her head, he said, "I must return to Richard now. Don't worry, my dear. I'll get rid of him."
"Thank you, Alex," Elspeth said. "You are more a father to me than my own sire."
Alex's face heated. Such statements embarrassed him. He turned to Adelpha. Her face beamed approval and love. That a bastard son should receive such blessings was beyond his understanding.
Though he'd often been jealous of his younger, legitimately born brothers, Alex would not change his position in life, dependent though it was, for all Richard's power and privilege. He had been given the treasure of the love of a good woman and devoted daughter. What more could a man wish for?
In his mind, he was a knight pledged to protect his lady and her daughter.
"My Lady," he bowed to Elspeth, whose gentle smile warmed his heart. Turning to the dowager, his own Adelpha, he went to her and kissed her hair. "My heart."
"And mine," she replied, stroking his face.
Thus girded, Alex headed back toward the parlor.
Chapter Eight
Hal ran up the gangplank.
"George!"
His voice carried through the still early evening air.
Bare feet smacked against the polished deck. Hal turned toward the sound. George came up to him, setting his arm around Hal's shoulders and practically dragging him toward the poop.
"You stink, Rabbit. Where have you been?"
"I'll explain later. Ready to shove off?"
"Not exactly. We have a small problem, Captain." George lowered his voice. "The sheriff of Lancashire awaits your presence in your cabin."
"The sheriff? What does he want?" Hal asked, already anticipating George's answer.
"Something about a Countess and her pearls and you killing her."
Hal laughed. "Come on, let's set the good sheriff's mind at rest so we can get him ashore and we can get out to some clean water."
"Hal, he's looking to arrest you for murder."
"He can't arrest me for something that didn't happen."
"Wouldn't be the first time an Indian paid for a white man's crime."
"Sh-h-h. They think I'm a Spaniard, remember? Besides, she isn't dead. They can't hang a man for murder without a body."
"So you do know what he's talking about?"
"Yes. Come on."
The two men descended the steps to below-decks. After washing up and changing into clean clothes, Hal pushed open the door to his cabin, where he was met by the strong smell of wine. He pulled the door shut and turned accusingly to George.
"You gave him my Madeira?"
"It seemed prudent to pacify him." George laid his hand on Hal's arm. "Rabbit, he has three big men with him."
"Are they drinking my Madeira, too?" Hal asked, peeved at the waste of good Spanish wine. George only grinned.
Hal stepped into his cabin. And bit his tongue. The sheriff had settled his officious bulk into Hal's favorite chair and there was some doubt in Hal's mind as to whether the sheriff would have to take the chair with him when he left.
"Sir," Hal tipped his head to the sheriff. "I am Captain Miguel Garcia. I understand you have some questions for me?"
"Not exactly," the sheriff said, prying himself out of the chair. Hal winced as the wood squeaked. "I'm come to arrest you for the kidnapping and murder of Elspeth, Countess Greymere."
"I don't know her."
"Nevertheless, the Countess is missing, presumed dead, and you are known to have accepted the task of doing the deed."
"Known by whom? Where is my accuser?"
"Do you deny you just an hour ago sold pearls given to the Countess by her husband on their wedding day?"
"Sir, selling pearls to a pawnbroker is not murder. What reason would I have to murder one of your a countesses? Surely there are people around Lancaster who can tell you I am no killer."
"Still, you sold the pearls. The pawn shop owner sacrificed the forty pounds she paid you to collect the reward."
"What reward?"
"The one thousand pounds offered by Lord Sandgrove for the lady's safe return or news of her whereabouts."
"Doesn't sound like much of a sacrifice to me," Hal quipped.
The sheriff frowned at the attempt at humor. He reached for his wineglass, tossing back Hal's fine Madeira like watered down ale.
"Who accuses me of murder?" Hal asked.
"Never fear, you will face your accuser. This is England. We observe the law here."
The sheriff motioned and the three men came forward, rope dangling from the fingers of one of them.
"Miguel Garcia, you are under arrest for the murder of a peeress of the realm."
Hal felt his arms yanked behind him and his wrists tied securely. George made a move.
"No!" Hal's voice stopped him. "Don't interfere, George."
George froze in his steps and waited. Hal plumbed his brain for some brilliant idea for getting him out of this one. Nothing produced itself.
The if-onlys began. If only he'd not sailed into Lancaster at all. If only he'd thought ahead to provide for missing March's ship and not having anything to barter for supplies. If only he'd told the man in black to go off and bugger himself...
No, he thought as the sheriff's men dragged him up the steps to the main deck. If he'd not accepted the abominable job, he'd never have met the charming Countess. And she would probably be dead now.
Unbearable thought.
Suddenly, thinking of the Countess gave him an idea.
"George!" he called behind him as he was pulled down the gangplank, off his ship. "Send a man to the Cock and Bull. A man named FitzWilliam is coming there to retrieve the horses I arrived with. Tell him what has happened."
If he replied, Hal didn't hear. The men dragged him along to the jail.
The rope binding him was cut and the men tossed him into a cell. He landed on his face in a pile of straw smelling strongly of piss and, what else, he didn't want to think about. The clang of the metal bars behind him sounded ominously final.
Hal raised himself up and sat on t
he filthy floor. His situation wasn't good. He was used to taking care of himself and those around him. Now, his life apparently depended upon a woman who knew he'd been hired to kill her. Would she even want to help him? Her would-be killer walked free. Would she want to risk her life for Hal's?
He thought she would, but one day's acquaintance wasn't a good basis for such an assumption.
It was all he had right now, though. So, he started to pray FitzWilliam wouldn't be long coming to retrieve Thor and Loki.
* * * *
Elspeth sat in shock as her steward told his story.
"And so, milady, he is probably going to trial tomorrow."
"Is it likely a jury will find him guilty, even though I'm not dead?"
"He sold your pearls, my lady. The natural assumption will be he stole them as he abducted you."
"Didn't he tell them I gave him the pearls?"
"I know no more than I have told you, my lady, however no one is likely to believe a foreigner, especially a sailor, telling such a story."
She stood, still not knowing what to do. FitzWilliam waited for her orders, swinging his hat from his fingers. Elspeth's hand went to her throat as she imagined her champion swinging in like fashion on the gallows. Fear made her voice tremble as she made her decision and gave her steward his orders.
"Prepare horses for me and Patsy. And prepare an armed guard of several men as well. We ride for Lancaster tonight."
"My lady!" FitzWilliam sputtered. "A letter will do."
"Do not argue, FitzWilliam."
Rarely did Elspeth use the voice of command, but this time even she could hear the steel beneath her words. Steel which forbade disobedience.
"My lady," FitzWilliam replied with a bow as he backed out of her presence to do her bidding.
She drew a deep breath. She must save her savior.
* * * *
"Richard, you again. Alex greeted his brother as he closed the doors behind them. "What a pleasure."
"They caught the murderer." Richard said with no further preamble.
Alex raised a brow. "Really? Who is the miscreant?"
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