by Rebecca King
“Danger can throw people together. In circumstances where people are forced to show their strengths and weaknesses, the rawness of human nature is evident. It can either be attractive or repulsive. You know what it is like; if you end up with someone who screams a lot and whines constantly you cannot wait for the second you can get rid of them. However, if you have someone who will work with you and supports you as much as they can then they do earn respect. You learn to work together in ways that other people don’t, especially couples. A house can be more divided than life within the Star Elite.”
“How?”
“The Star Elite all work together, do the same job, think the same way. In life, things are different. For most, men must be the breadwinners while women run the house. That is the way it has always been. However, life in a marriage should be more of a shared experience, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think the day will ever dawn when I will be happy to see Mallory go off to fight with the Star Elite,” Callum grumbled.
Sir Hugo grinned because he knew that Callum had no idea just how revealing that statement was. Already, Callum was starting to envisage himself in a marital home with her. It meant that he had contemplated the possibility despite their new acquaintance.
“No, but she will have to run the house – all of it – while you are gone for long periods of time. She is going to have to be stronger than most and be accepting of the dangers you face. It takes a special kind of person who will accept the independent lifestyle and uncertainty of your return. That is the key to the survival of the other men’s happy marriages. They know the women they married are strong enough to survive turmoil and uncertainty. Moreover, their wives understand the true nature and significance of the work they do.”
“Mallory understands. I just don’t want her to see me as a hero or want something more from me because she is grateful,” Callum muttered.
He had no idea why he was being so open with his boss. This was Sir Hugo, the boss of the Star Elite. However, now they were alone, Callum saw no reason why he should not be completely honest with his boss, not least because he knew Sir Hugo was the only one likely to be able to understand his predicament.
“Which is why I said that you should return to the investigation and see if the feelings she has for you fade. If what she feels is gratitude it will fade just as soon as she is given a house and the money to live as she pleases. Yes, she may always be grateful to you for getting her freedom back. However, that gratitude will shift to whoever gives her a new life. It cannot be you, not if you want to know if her feelings for you are genuine and not a reaction.”
Callum nodded, but then shook his head.
“What?” he demanded when he saw that Sir Hugo was smiling.
“You have gone already,” Sir Hugo teased. “I can see it on your face. You are already baulking at the idea of leaving her. You may as well see what happens during the journey to Cornwall. Once we are there, you are going to have to stay and get some rest. It is up to you to decide what you want to do before you return to Melrose’s stomping ground. By the time you are ready to go, though, the men might have already arrested him.”
“I hope they do. The bastard needs taking down.”
“I just hope he does try to ambush us,” Sir Hugo mused suddenly.
Callum swept him with a look. “Do you really think you are up to a fight?”
“I have a score to settle. Believe me I have been in worse conditions and won fights,” Sir Hugo growled.
Callum didn’t doubt it.
“Let’s hope he is sitting at Mann’s house.”
“We go after Haugham after Melrose and Mann have been dealt with.”
While Sir Hugo plotted, Callum turned his attention to Mallory once more.
“Where do we meet with them? Mallory, I mean,” Callum asked after several miles of silence.
Following Sir Hugo’s instructions had taken them in a random direction that was difficult for anybody to predict, but Callum knew that they were miles away from the safe house.
“We are going to meet at Citterton Bridge. When we get there, we are going to sweep the area and check that nobody has followed us. As soon as she arrives, we will take a different route of the area and make our way to Cornwall. Oliver has sent word to the local teams to meet us as we pass through, but I don’t know how immersed they are in their investigations and if they are able to join us.”
“Let’s get to Citterton Bridge then,” and with that Callum clicked the horse into a trot before settling back for a nice, long drive.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mallory’s journey wasn’t as pleasant. She was terrified, hot, worried, and desperately wanted to get out while at the same time was too scared to move. Tension thrummed through her so much she was starting to feel sick from the stress it caused. She waited for that fateful order for the farmer to stop the cart during a journey that seemed to take an age, but it never came. Eventually, the carriage rumbled to a stop.
“Wait here,” the farmer muttered quietly.
The cart rocked wildly as he climbed down.
An icy, isolating, deathly silence settled about Mallory. It was more disturbing than the constant rumble of the cart’s wheels. Mallory listened for any sound of movement, or voices, but couldn’t hear anything. She wanted to take a quick peek out from beneath the folds, just to make sure the farmer hadn’t simply abandoned her, but she daren’t.
The hours ticked by. One. Two. Maybe more. Mallory had no idea. At some point she must have dozed off because something awoke her. A furtive scuffle. A slight sway of the cart. Whatever it was, Mallory sucked in a breath as panic engulfed her. It took her a moment to remember where she was. When she did, she closed her eyes and began to pray that whoever was climbing onto the cart wasn’t going to hurt her.
“Aye, well I shall see you next week then,” the farmer called to his friend.
Other insults and jibes were called as the farmer took his leave of his friend.
“I will help myself, if you don’t mind,” he added jovially.
Seconds later, the cart jerked as it began to move once more. Minutes later, the cart rumbled to a stop once more.
“Out you get now,” the farmer murmured.
At first, Mallory didn’t realise he was talking to her. It was his soft tap on the wood directly above her head that made her jolt. When she didn’t move fast enough for him, he eased the bags covering her away and tugged the heavy cloak off her head.
“How are you doing under that lot?” he asked kindly.
Mallory blinked owlishly at him. “I am hot.”
The farmer grinned unrepentantly.
“It can’t be helped. It’s all safe now. We did have someone following us, but I made sure I saw my friend for a good long time. They studied the cart but left about half an hour ago. It’s safe for you to get out now. Cool down for a bit, stretch your legs. We will leave as soon as I have loaded up the wood.”
“I don’t understand. I thought someone was going to fetch me from here,” Mallory whispered.
She wished now that Callum had stayed with her. She felt bereft, alone, and so desperately wanted to see him, but not to be there with her. She wanted to know that he was safe and hadn’t been ambushed because he was with Sir Hugo.
“I am going to take you to Citterton Bridge,” the farmer mused. “We just had to make it look like I am nothing more than a farmer going to visit his friend. I am going to load up with the wood, so you have a break. There is some food here. Have that. When you are ready, we will go and meet the men.”
For Mallory, that couldn’t come a moment too soon. She so desperately wanted to see Callum that she immediately clambered back into her hiding place. Rather than lie down again, though, she opened the small pouch of food the farmer gave her and began to eat.
“Ready?” the farmer asked half an hour later.
Mallory nodded. Now that she knew what was going to happen, she was less scared.
If
I am honest, I am less scared now because I know I am going to see Callum.
When she had finished the last of her bread, Mallory handed the farmer the pouch and settled down. He covered her with numerous bags until she was well hidden, then took up his position on the bench seat before clicking the horse into a steady walk.
All Mallory could do now was wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
The journey seemed indeterminable because she was so eager to end the fear that seemed to be her constant companion now.
Eventually, the cart slowed.
“Hello?”
“Be quiet,” the farmer grunted.
There was a momentary pause.
“What?” the farmer demanded in a louder voice.
Mallory’s stomach churned.
“I haven’t got anything for you,” the farmer called.
Mallory closed her eyes and began to pray. She physically quaked such was the strength of her fear. She wanted to have a look at who the farmer was talking to, but then didn’t want to know who had ordered the cart to stop and was now demanding that the farmer climbed down from the cart.
Eventually, the cart swayed as the farmer did as he was told.
“Step away.”
Mallory knew she didn’t recognise that voice. She felt sick. The heat beneath the cloak became cloying. She wanted to tug it off her head so she could breathe in colder air, but she daren’t move.
“Stop right there.”
“I cannot remember what they sounded like. Everything sounds odd under these sacks,” she muttered.
“Shut up,” the farmer grunted.
In a louder voice he called: “What do you want?”
“Step away from the cart.”
“There isn’t anything in there but wood,” the farmer called. “Come and see for yourself if you want.”
There was a clatter of hooves as whoever was giving orders ventured closer.
“Look, it is just wood,” the farmer assured the man. “What do you want?”
“What are you doing out here?”
“I am taking this to my customer,” the farmer replied.
“Thirty miles away from where you live?”
The farmer squinted at the arrogant man seated high atop a huge bay horse. “How do you know where I live?”
“I know everything you have been up to,” the man drawled as he raked the farmer with a sinister look.
“Oh? I don’t see as I have anything to do with the likes of you. What business is it of yours if I want to deliver wood to my customer out here or even further away?” The farmer’s voice was mildly curious if a little defensive.
“Who is your customer?”
“Mrs Wilton. She lives in the village beyond that hill.”
The man looked in the direction the farmer pointed. He knew that the farmer had seen his men hiding in the undergrowth. While they were hidden, and at first glance could be missed, some of them weren’t so clever and were visible from the bridge.
Citterton Bridge.
The man on the horse leaned forward and lowered his voice.
“If I find you are lying to me, I am going to kill you slowly. You know that, don’t you?” he drawled in a voice that was laden with menace.
The farmer lifted his brows at him. “Now why would I lie to you about a thing like my wood delivery? What business is it of yours?”
The horseman sat upright and turned to study the cart.
It was then that the battle began.
When the first shots rang out, they were so unexpected that the horses pranced about nervously. The farmer hurried to the head of his horse and tried to stop it running off, but the gunfire didn’t ease. The horse continued to dance and tug at the reins that confined it.
The man on horseback slid to the ground and ducked behind the stone walls of the aged bridge. Built many years ago out of stone, it had been poorly maintained. When once it had been used as a main thoroughfare, it had long since been abandoned and a new route forged through the countryside. Still, it afforded shelter to the Melrose, who took shelter while his men waged war with the Star Elite all about them.
Determined not to have his cart stolen by the fop, the farmer led the horse off the bridge. Before they reached the end, Melrose’s horse cantered into the woods, eager to be far away from the terrifying noises. The farmer made no attempt to stop it. Nor did he pay any attention to Melrose’s snapped command to stay where he was. He merely turned his horse away from the bridge and led him deep into the woods with the cart still attached.
“Get out,” the farmer urged.
Mallory didn’t answer. She daren’t.
“You can’t stay in there. If they decide to steal the cart, they are going to take you too. You must get out and find a place to hide. That’s Melrose’s men firing at the Star Elite.”
Mallory clambered out of her hiding place. She accepted the farmer’s hand and jumped down.
“Find yourself somewhere to hide. Use your cloak. Curl up and don’t come out until the guns have stopped and you see one of the Star Elite. If they don’t turn up, you know they have been overwhelmed. Stay still and wait for Melrose to leave. Give it a day or two before you go anywhere.”
With that, the farmer turned around to leave.
“Where are you going?” Mallory cried.
It was then that her gaze fell to the gun in the farmer’s hand.
“To help them,” the farmer grinned.
He vanished into the undergrowth.
Mallory stared into space, but then realised how foolish she was to stand beside the cart. If Melrose did try to use the vehicle to escape the Star Elite, he would find her standing around looking useless. Spinning around, she tried to think of somewhere she could hide but couldn’t get her mind to work well enough. Eventually, she settled on some long grass beside the river. While she couldn’t swim, she could wade into the water and use the current to carry her downstream if she needed to get away.
Callum swore when he saw Mallory. Thankfully, Melrose was distracted by the gunfire aimed at him, but Callum suspected that Melrose’s men would have seen her and knew exactly where she was hiding. The need to get to her was strong, but to do so he had to cross the bridge. The bridge that Melrose was now crouched on.
“Edge closer to her when you can. Don’t ease up on the gunfire,” Sir Hugo growled.
He reloaded his gun but, rather than resume firing, moved away from the river and disappeared into the trees. Callum did the same, but once in the trees he moved closer to Mallory. When he appeared at the riverbank again, he was on the opposite bank to her, still too far way yet close enough to be able to keep watch over her. If anybody ventured near her, they would die.
“Protect her,” Sir Hugo ordered before he took up a position that gave him a clear view of Melrose.
“Why don’t you just kill the bastard?” Callum growled. “His men will surrender when they know their employer is dead and they aren’t likely to be paid.”
“I want Melrose alive,” Sir Hugo warned. “It is far better for him to spend the rest of his life behind bars.”
“Really?” Callum countered.
He suspected that Sir Hugo wanted to settle a few scores and have the satisfaction of being the one to arrest Melrose. For someone as brutal as Melrose, it would be the worst kind of defeat, especially after Sir Hugo’s recent beating.
Leaving Sir Hugo to do what he felt was best, Callum turned his attention to removing Melrose’s men from their hiding positions.
“You may as well give up, Melrose. Your men are done,” Sir Hugo called nearly an hour later.
The gunfire had turned sporadic as Melrose’s men had dwindled in numbers whether through death or lack of willingness to fight.
Melrose, still hiding behind one of the bridge’s stone walls, fired off a shot that nearly struck Oliver.
From his stance, Callum had a clear shot of the man, but Melrose had yet to look up and realise that
for himself. Unfortunately for Melrose, if he moved to the opposite side of the bridge, he would be clearly visible to Oliver as well. There was no chance of escape. All Callum and Oliver needed was the nod from Sir Hugo and Melrose would be dead.
“The bridge is the worst place for you to stay, Melrose. Did you not think about how we have cut off your exit from both sides? You do realise that I have men able to see you no matter which wall you want to try to hide behind?” Sir Hugo taunted.
Melrose ignored him, reloaded his gun, and then took a shot at Sir Hugo. He missed because his actions were quick and clumsy, but the gunshot was a statement that Melrose was prepared to fight to the last.
Sir Hugo ventured closer. The shot he took made the stonework beside Melrose’s head explode. Melrose ducked and crawled away, but only to the opposite side of the bridge. When he popped up again, Oliver clipped him in the shoulder. Melrose cursed and fired back.
Mallory looked up to see what was happening and noticed movement on the riverbank opposite. Her heart skipped when she saw Callum standing beside a tree, hidden from Melrose but visible to her. He motioned to her to get down. Before she could, another gunshot made the wood above her head explode into a thousand splinters. Mallory flinched and ducked.
“There you are,” Melrose called.
Mallory looked at Callum in panic.
Callum mouthed to her to stay calm. He contemplated the raging river. It was foolish for anybody to try to cross it without using the bridge, but to leave her on the opposite bank, where Melrose or his men might be able to make a grab for her, was foolish.
“Stay,” Sir Hugo ordered when Callum began to edge toward the bank. “He will kill you if you try. Nobody can cross that river. Not while he is alive.”
“Get her,” Melrose ordered the last of his men who were still standing.
To help them find her, he stood up, pointed at Mallory while he took a shot at Callum.
Mallory screamed when the branch above Callum’s head suddenly broke away from the tree and fell. For a moment, she thought Callum had been struck by the falling branch. All she could see were leaves and twigs, but when everything had settled, Callum stepped out from behind the thick branch and shot at Melrose.