***
Levi spent four days idling on the boat. The night of the game, he met Quince in a deserted area of the port. Quince's teeth flashed in the faint light of the single lantern.
"You showed," Quince snorted in disbelief.
Levi inclined his head toward the only boat anchored nearby. It was nothing more than a barge with a single ramshackle cabin. "Is that the place?"
Quince nodded.
"You coming, then?" Levi asked as he strode to the door.
"Wouldn't miss this," Quince replied as he loped behind.
The scent of his sweet tobacco assaulted him as he walked into the barren room. There were four men and two women of dubious character assembled. All eyes focused on him for a moment, the distrust palpable.
Quince skirted around Levi, directing his gaze at the sharp-faced man dressed fastidiously in an elaborate uniform.
"Captain, this 'ere is the man I was tellin' you about."
"So, you're from the colonies. We don't take any of that worthless paper money here, so if you haven't got gold, don't bother taking a seat."
Without a word, Levi plunked a small burlap bag, heavy with coins, onto the scarred pine table.
"You gentlemen won't mind if Ramon searches you and removes your weapons. I'm sure you understand, it's just a matter of formality," the captain said, eyeing the bag with interest.
Levi glanced over at the huge, swarthy faced ruffian standing in the corner and then shifted his eyes to the two women. "Well, I'd much rather have one of those little wenches search me, but if it pleases Ramon, then so be it." A response which garnered a snicker from Quince, lascivious smiles from the women, and a very angry growl from Ramon.
Marlatt cleared his throat loudly and motioned his head toward Ramon. "Get on with it."
After Levi's pistol and knife had been retrieved and set upon a table in a remote corner of the shack, the captain inclined his head to the single available seat.
Levi paused before sitting. "Captain, you and your men surely wouldn't object to Quince, here, securing your weapons as well."
The Captain's eyes opened wide at his bold suggestion but calmly relented by standing from his chair and opening his arms wide to the side, revealing a gunbelt bearing an ornate, silverplated flintlock.
"Nice pistol," Levi commented as Quince's trembling fingers lifted it from its holster.
"Merci. A present from an English sailor. The lad was in a generous mood that day. Kind of him, don't you think?" The captain resumed his seat and nudged an ivory box in Levi's direction.
Levi helped himself to a smoke. "Another gift from the English, I suppose?"
"Actually, this tobacco came from the colonies. You see, I have benevolent friends all over the world," he replied with a devil-may-care shrug.
"Do you think we could get this game underway?" Levi asked, suddenly very anxious to wipe the table clean with Marlatt's supercilious face.
Dawn was slowly supplanting the lantern light in the narrow confines of the cabin. Sweat glistened on Marlatt's tanned face as he eyed the mound of coins piled in front of Levi. The tension had grown so thick that the women had wisely taken their leave.
Levi had kept his expression blank, but he was wound tighter than a coiled spring. He had known from the instant he caught the deadly glint in Marlatt's eye, that winning the gold would be far easier than getting out of there alive. The other players, divested of their money, had drifted to various points in the room. Quince edged nearer to Levi. Sensing his distress, Levi shot him a swift look of reassurance and suddenly wished he'd never gotten the poor fellow involved.
The final round, the final win, Levi thought, as he watched Marlatt shuffle the cards with tightly drawn lips. Although he hadn't recouped all his money, Levi knew he'd lingered overlong. Deciding to cut his losses, he discreetly fingered the slim handle of the long dagger concealed in his boot. From the corner of his eye, he spied Marlatt's menacing giant leaning against the back wall and concluded that Ramon would be the toughest obstacle in their escape. He was as wide and thick as a castle wall, and what he lacked in intelligence, he more than made up for in bulk.
Levi swept up the winnings from the last hand. "Captain Marlatt, I thank you for allowing me to sit in on your game, but I feel the need to retire." He took the scarf from around Quince's neck and quickly piled the gold into it, gathering up the ends into a makeshift sack.
Marlatt's face grew red. Levi could hear the shuffling of the other men's feet on the sawdust floor. The captain stood up, braced his fists on the table, and glowered down at him.
"Vile mongrel, you are a lowdown, filthy cheat."
Levi could feel Quince's arm brush his as he moved even closer. He glared back at Marlatt, and his face broke into a cynical smile. "Sir, may I remind you that we used your cards, you were the dealer, and we sit on your premises. It seems you would be the only player here with the opportunity to cheat, and judging by the heft of gold I hold here, you are either a very honest man or a terribly, incompetent swindler."
The captain's fists clenched white as he shook with anger. Catching the subtle signal Marlatt threw his men, Levi yelled, "Watch yourself, Quince!" as he jumped from his chair.
With a powerful swing of his arm, he neatly clubbed the man on his right with the bundle of coins. The man stumbled backward as Levi grabbed his chair and swung it hard onto Ramon's back, effectively releasing the henchman's stranglehold on Quince. The loud crack of wood echoed in the tiny space, and Ramon yelled out as he shoved Quince to the floor and turned around to face Levi.
In a flash, Ramon drew a huge blade from his belt and pointed it toward Levi's throat. Quince gasped as he tried to scramble out of the way.
Levi glanced down at him. "Nice searching job, my man." Twisting sideways, Levi kicked his leg at the blade, knocking it from Ramon's hand and then threw a jolting punch at his steel jaw.
"Watch out, Hawk!" Quince shouted from across the room. Levi whirled around and delivered a devastating blow, which sent the third man reeling. He slumped to the floor in a heap.
Ramon's sharp blade gouged Levi's side, and he grabbed at the wound. Wincing in pain, he turned around as he heard a loud crack from behind. He gazed into the huge man's menacing face. Several trickles of blood descended his broad flat forehead, his eyes rolled back, and he fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Levi looked to see the small, pale face of Quince beaming from ear to ear. He clutched a long plank stained with blood.
Levi smiled at Quince. "Alright, I forgive you for overlooking the knife."
"Well, gentlemen, you've had quite an evening." Marlatt's oily tone oozed from a darkened corner. "Now, let's have the gold, and I will generously allow you both to leave here with your lives."
As Marlatt stepped into the light, Levi found himself staring down the glinting barrel of the flintlock. Levi laughed a little and gave a shrug of mock surrender. He winked at Quince, then bent down slowly to pick up the scarf between his feet.
Levi's silver blade flew through the air, skewering the flesh of Marlatt's forearm. The heavy pistol clattered to the floor. Dripping sweat, Marlatt looked down at the knife impaling his arm, it's treacherous tip sticking hideously out the other side.
"Damn you," Marlatt mouthed the words at Levi as all color drained from his face. He stumbled forward a few steps before crumpling to the floor. Levi walked over casually and yanked the knife from its fleshy sheath, causing Marlatt's seemingly lifeless body to jerk once before sinking even further into unconsciousness. Levi glanced down at his shirt, now completely saturated in blood from his seeping wound. He swayed a bit, then steadied himself on Quince's shoulder.
"Hawk. Now that's a damn fitting name," Quince proclaimed.
"Let's get out of here before I pass out in this rotten hell-hole."
Chapter 25
Rosy's girls were crowding around the peek hole in the kitchen door.
"I'd do him for free," Susannah squealed.
"Free, I'd pay him," said
Johanna in a hoarse, smoky voice.
"Have you ever seen such a big one?" giggled Anna.
Jensen was watching the scene with amusement from the trestle table while she sipped her tea.
"What is all the fuss?" exclaimed Rosy upon entering the back door, her arms full with jars of homebrewed ale.
"A deliciously handsome man is in the sitting room. And since I spotted him first, it only seems fair that he should be mine," Susannah said, adjusting her hair in the reflection of a tin pot hooked above the hearth.
"You're not his type. That kind of man wants a real woman to bed, not some mewling blonde kitten," Johanna said with a smirk and a tousle of her red hair.
Susannah responded by shoving Johanna into the table. Jensen lifted her cup to prevent the contents from spilling.
"Stop it, girls, don't act so common," Rosy admonished.
"Let me get a look at 'im, I've not grown so old that I don't appreciate a good-lookin' man myself." The girls parted at their mistress's approach. "Blimey, I know that man."
Jensen squirmed a bit as Rosy gave her a sly, sideways glance.
Moments after walking into the parlor, Rosy returned. "Just as I thought," she said with a shrill laugh, "he wants our Jensen."
The girls all turned to glare at Jensen.
"I know you ain't interested, dearie, but take a gander anyhow, just for the heck of it," Rosy invited.
Jensen walked cautiously to the door and stood on tiptoes to peer through the small, cloudy window. She nearly fainted. Levi North was alive and well and sitting on the settee, his heavy boots propped atop the table, seemingly unaware of all the commotion he had caused.
Jensen gasped, "Did he ask to speak to me?"
"It's not talking he's after. He specifically requested the girl with the long, golden locks and the husky voice." After a pause she added craftily, "I think you could make a pretty penny with this one. Not long after your aunt's death he came to the house asking to see you." She gave a vigorous shake of her head. "No, not asking--demanding. I knew better than to tell him you'd left with that English soldier. He has that same hungry look in his eyes today."
Jensen was thunderstruck. Levi North believed she was a whore. She peeked again at him through the green glass. He was unshaven, and his hair was unruly and longer than she remembered. He looked ruggedly masculine, and her heart ached at the sight of him.
"Arrogant bastard!" Jensen screamed, delivering a hard kick to the flour bag. "If he offered me the bloody moon, I would not have him."
"Jensen, my sweet, this could set us up for a good long time."
"Rosy, don't you understand the man thinks I'm a . . . ."
"Whore," Johanna supplied.
"He's not the first man to think that, you know. You do live in a brothel, after all." Susannah couldn't help reminding her.
"So, you're not willing to bed the man tonight?" Rosy asked, her expression still hopeful.
"Rosy, haven't you heard a word I said? Not tonight! Not ever! I would not have him if he were as rich as Croesus, the last man on earth, and wickedly handsome."
"May I have him? I'm not so hard to please. And he is wickedly handsome," Susannah called after Jensen as she hurried up the stairs.
"You may all have him. Pass him around and share him for all I care," Jensen nearly shrieked at them.
Moments after retreating to her small garret room, she heard the street door slam with such a resounding crash that the walls of the thin-walled building actually shook. Her hands were trembling as she pulled back the curtain and peered out at the bleak, wharf town. He was looking straight at her. Even from that vantage she could see the anger in his face. Jensen let the curtain fall back into place. The tears were coming hot and heavy now. She did not turn at the sound of Rosy's jangling bracelets.
"You told him what I said?" Jensen asked.
"Well, not exactly," Rosy said.
Jensen turned to face her. "What do you mean, not exactly?"
Rosy fiddled nervously with her bracelets. "I told him you were otherwise engaged. I did not want to put him off, you see. I was hoping he might find one of the others to his liking." She stepped closer to Jensen. "Ah, don't look at me like that, lass. The man was offering a bloody fortune for your services. I'd have been a fool to just send him on his way. Unfortunately, he wasn't wanting any of my girls."
"So, he believes I'm bedding some stranger tonight?"
"I'm afraid so."
Jensen shrugged. "It doesn't really matter, I suppose. I'll never see him again."
It was early morning and still black as night when she woke with a start. There was someone in the room with her, she could sense it. Jensen was prepared, this was not the first time a customer had found his way to her room. In fact, the very week she moved in, her door latch was snapped in two by an amorous adventurer.
Pulling the gun from her dresser, she scooted her whole body to the head of the bed, crouched in the corner of the wall and took careful aim at the large, looming shadow in the doorway. "You're in the wrong room," she said in a reasonable tone.
The large form moved closer.
"If you take another step, I will be forced to shoot." The man seemed to fill the small room, and her hand trembled on the pistol. "I only run errands and care for the horses. I am not a--a--"
"Whore?" For the second time that day someone had supplied the ugly word for her. The instant she heard the insolent drawl, her heart raced even faster.
"Get out of my room," she hissed.
"That's one hell of a greeting for your husband-to-be, Duff."
The room was momentarily illuminated by the spark of a flint. Levi North, outfitted in leathers and looking like a man with murder on his mind, strode over to the dresser to light the candle. She shivered as she noticed him lower the gun he had been holding. But she didn't lower hers. Instead, she kept the barrel level and followed his movements.
"I've no intentions of marrying you." She was shaking so badly, she gripped the gun in both hands.
He made a sound like a snarl, crossed the room, took the gun from her, and jammed it into his waistband alongside his own. Without a word, he began rummaging around in her small wardrobe.
"You were going to kill me," she accused.
"No," he assured her. "But I was prepared to kill any man I found in your bed."
"What are you doing?" She threw her quilt around her shoulders and crawled out of bed to confront him. He looked at her for a moment and then went back to throwing her things out onto the floor. When he found her valise, he began shoving her clothes into it.
"Get dressed," he ordered. "We're leaving now."
"You're jesting?"
"Do I look as though I'm jesting?" She looked at his dark, forbidding expression and shook her head.
"I don't want to come with you."
"Sweeting, unless you have the means to pay me back the settlement I so generously bestowed on your uncle, you will come with me."
She pulled a small pouch from beneath the straw mattress and shoved it at him. "Here, this is a start. I'll pay you a portion of my wages every month." She couldn't help wondering how much this man was prepared to part with before he owned her outright.
He quirked a mocking brow. "You can't be serious. This isn't even enough to pay for the paper it was written on." He tossed the bag back to her. "Unless you intend to wear that," he said, snatching off the quilt. "Whatever are you wearing?" he asked with a genuine laugh. "There isn't a self-respecting whore in Virginia that would be caught dead in those night clothes."
Her prim flannel gown was buttoned as high as her chin, and peeking from beneath the calf-length hem of the skirt was a pair of men's underbreeches. Besides her face and hands, there wasn't a square inch of her skin uncovered. She had even donned a pair of thick stockings.
She folded her arms across her chest. "'Tis my protection. Rosy's customers have a tendency to roam." Her eyes speared him accusingly.
"Protection?" he said. "Duff, you don'
t honestly think a few yards of fabric offers you any sort of protection from a man's animal lust."
"You forget, I have a gun. Or at least, I did have one," she said, then lifted the pillow from her bed to uncover a small collection of lethal instruments. "And, I also have these."
"Duff, whatever am I to do with you?" She thought she detected a hint of admiration in his tone.
He pocketed the clasp knife and was about to do the same with the dagger, but she plucked it from his hand. She would tuck it into its usual place, the top of her boot.
"So, you've decided then to travel in that outfit?" he asked calmly, as though there were no question of her accompanying him.
She knew that refusing him would be an exercise in futility. Jensen removed the chaste nightdress revealing her flimsy, well-worn chemise. Snatching the woolens that lay in a heap by the wardrobe door, she tugged on the skirt before removing the flannel leggings.
"I never expected to see you again," she said, as she nervously tried to fasten her bodice.
With exasperation, he dropped the valise to the ground, took hold of her shoulders, turned her to face him, and with deft fingers finished lacing her up. "Perhaps Mansfield is a passable marksman in England, but in Virginia we have higher standards," he said with a bitter laugh. Seeing the alarm in her eyes, he continued, "Don't worry, I imagine he's got a bit of a limp now, but he's alive."
He draped her serviceable woolen cloak over her shoulders before taking hold of her hand. "The preacher is expecting us by this evening."
She tried to snatch her hand back, but his grip tightened in response. "You certainly don't have to marry me. I'll simply work in your stables until you feel the debt is paid."
"Do you think I searched over hell's half-acre just to find a stable hand?" He pulled her, almost dragging her down the stairs. "Besides, I gave my word to your uncle that I would marry you," he said, almost as an afterthought.
"Now what woman wouldn't be charmed by such a romantic sentiment?"
He came to an abrupt stop on the rickety landing and bent his head until it was mere inches from her face. "May I remind you that you are stranded here in the colonies, penniless, and living in a godforsaken whorehouse? It seems to me you could show a little more gratitude."
Moss Rose Page 27