Nowhere Near Respectable

by Mary J. Putney

  It was a small fortune, and an unexpected bonus for the night’s work. The captain’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “She might be worth more to her family.”

  “Perhaps,” Mackenzie agreed. “But finding her people could be difficult and perhaps dangerous.” He pulled another bag from an inside pocket and tossed it in one hand. It jingled alluringly. “Cash in hand, and no trouble for you.”

  Hawk scratched his stubbled jaw thoughtfully. “That sounds like a good bargain to me.” He glanced at his men, who were listening raptly. “What say you?”

  The nods and “ayes” of agreement were interrupted when Howard said belligerently, “I don’t agree! I want the bitch, and I’ll challenge this London sharper for the right to have her.”

  “Then we won’t get our guineas!” someone complained.

  “I’ll pay fifty guineas for her myself!” Howard retorted.

  “You have that kind of money?” someone asked with surprise.

  Howard stared at Kiri with hot, angry eyes. “I can come up with . . . thirty guineas now, and I’ll pay the rest out of my share of future profits.”

  Kiri tried to hide her fear. Maybe she should be flattered Howard was willing to spend his savings and pawn his future for her—but not when she knew she wouldn’t survive his ownership.

  Some of the runners looked troubled, but others found the business highly entertaining. “Sure, we’ll wait for part of her price,” one said drunkenly. “But when you’re through with her, you have to share.”

  “She won’t look so pretty then,” Howard said. “What will it be, Mackenzie—guns or knives? Or will you withdraw your offer since I saw her first?”

  “I’ll take your challenge, but really, nothing so deadly as guns or knives. I greatly dislike the sight of blood. Particularly my own.” Mackenzie pondered. “You gave the challenge, so I pick the weapons. I choose cards.”

  Howard smiled, showing bad teeth. “Then I’ll have her, because I’m the best damned cardplayer in Kent.”

  “Even good players are subject to the gods of chance.” Mackenzie reached into another pocket. “I have a new pack of cards here. You may check them before we start. What shall we play?”

  Howard frowned as he shuffled through the cards. “Brag is my game.”

  “Very well. Best of three, and may the goddess of chance decide.”

  Howard squared up the cards. “With my skill, I don’t bloody need luck.”

  Brag had different versions, so the contestants negotiated the rules while a battered card table and two stools were set by the fire. The smugglers began placing bets on the outcome, with Howard strongly favored.

  The two men settled at the table and Howard handed the shuffled cards to his opponent, who shuffled again. “So we’re playing for the right to purchase the lady,” Mackenzie mused. “The most amusing stakes I’ve had for donkey’s years.”

  Kiri wished that he was less amused and more serious about winning the match. The scene could have come from Dante’s Inferno, with steam from the great kettle curling ominously through the air and smugglers crowded around to watch the play, avid faces lit by lantern and firelight.

  Mouth tight, Kiri continued scratching at her shackle with her ring. There was so much racket, no one could hear, and finally she was making progress. Soon she might be able to twist off the shackle and escape past the drunken men before they realized.

  If that couldn’t be done, she prayed to all Christian and Hindu gods that Mackenzie would win. He was an unknown quantity, but he had to be less brutal than Howard. Certainly he was a lot cleaner. She would also have a much better chance of escaping from one man than from two dozen.

  The opponents were silhouetted against the fire, Howard intent and wolfish, Mackenzie handsome, elegant, and casual to a fault. The progress of the game could be followed by the groans and exclamations of approval uttered by the onlookers.

  The men seemed well matched. Given how devoted most English gentlemen were to gaming, she guessed Mackenzie was a good player. But she was very afraid that Howard was better. She bit her lip when she realized that the match had reached its climax.

  “Three of a kind, Mackenzie!” Howard said gloatingly as he spread his cards out. “It’ll take a bloody miracle for you to beat that!”

  “It appears you’re right,” Mackenzie said, to Kiri’s dismay. “But let’s see what the goddess of fortune has given me. . . .”

  The audience hushed as tension built. The cards slapped flatly onto the table against the more distant whoosh of the waves. Nerves at the breaking point, Kiri continued scraping at the manacle even though her fingers were cramping and her hands were numb with fatigue. She was close, so close . . .

  As a gasp of surprise rose from the onlookers, Mackenzie said with mild pleasure, “Fancy that. I also have three of a kind, and mine are all natural, without using a wild card. The match and the lady are mine.”

  “No, damn it!” Howard leaped to his feet, knocking the board to the floor. “You cheated, you filthy cardsharp!”

  Mackenzie stood but remained calm. “I cheated? Pray tell me how.”

  Howard hesitated. “I’m not sure, but you did something, and by God, you won’t get away with it!” He swung at his opponent, who effortlessly dodged Howard’s fist.

  Fighting exploded on all sides as if sparks had fallen into black powder. Howard lunged after Mackenzie, who was remarkably adept at avoiding his opponent’s blows. Their partisans attacked each other, apparently fighting for the pure pleasure of it.

  The kettle of steaming water pitched over, extinguishing the fire. As bodies crashed back and forth, the three lanterns were knocked out one by one. Only a couple of embers illuminated the suffocating blackness.

  This was Kiri’s chance. She wrenched ferociously at the manacle and managed to break the ring of metal. She twisted again to open it farther, and was free.

  Scrambling to her feet, she headed toward the entrance as quickly as she could, swinging wide around the still raging brawl. The fighting proved impossible to avoid entirely, though. A man who smelled of rum careened into Kiri. She tripped him and he fell with a bellow.

  A stride later she collided with a beefier man. When she tried to slide away, he seized her. She slammed her elbow into his gut. Swearing, he kept hold of her arm.

  She sensed rather than saw him raise his right arm. Guessing he had a knife, she managed to catch his wrist and twist it backward. He howled with pain and released her.

  Moving on instinct, she ripped the knife from his loosened grip. Glad to have a weapon in her hand, she headed toward the cave’s entrance again. Now that she was armed, nothing and no one would prevent her escape.

  Chapter 4

  While dodging Howard, Mackenzie deftly upended the kettle to extinguish the fire, then overturned a lantern. No need to put out the others—the battling smugglers managed to do that without his aid.

  Under cover of the choking darkness, he headed for the girl, hoping that collisions with brawlers wouldn’t disorient him. The stone wall was closer than he thought, and his outstretched hands banged into it. He felt along the rough stone surface, sure he must be close to where she was tethered.

  He couldn’t find the blasted girl. Was he that far off course?

  No, his sweeping right hand rattled the chain. He followed the links down—and she wasn’t there. How the devil . . . ?

  The manacle had been broken and twisted. Miss Carrie Ford was even more formidable than he’d realized. He spun and headed toward the cave entrance, hoping she hadn’t become caught up in the fighting.

  A man shouted, “The wench is escaping!”

  “Get her!” Howard bellowed.

  As voices were raised in question or confusion, Mac reached the cave’s exit. He found the girl by her scent. He’d noticed earlier that she wore an alluring perfume that reminded him of lilacs and subtle spices. Giving thanks that she was safe, he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder . . .

  . . . and found h
imself falling to the floor when she hooked an ankle around his leg and jerked. He grabbed at her reflexively and they fell together with him on top.

  She made a vicious attempt to knee him in the groin. Immobilizing her with his weight, he hissed in her ear, “Stop trying to unman me when I’m rescuing you!”

  She stopped fighting. “Then let go so we can get the devil out of here!”

  He promptly released her and they both scrambled to their feet. He tossed the pouch containing the fifty guineas into the cave, then followed her out the exit passage.

  Outside it was pouring rain, but the night seemed light compared to the darkness of the cave. At least now it was possible to see the general shape of his surroundings.

  Ahead of him, Kiri ran recklessly along the ledge, then scampered up the rocky path ahead like a crazed mountain goat. Mackenzie grinned as he matched her speed. The girl must have been frightened by her captivity, but she hadn’t let fear paralyze her. Which was good, since it wouldn’t be long until Howard and maybe some of the other smugglers came after them.

  Rain made the path dangerously slippery. Kiri had almost reached the small clearing that contained the paddock when she lost her footing and fell, sliding toward the edge that would drop her to the rocks below. Barely in time, Mac anchored himself on a gnarled bush with one hand and made a frantic grab at the girl.

  The force of his sweeping arm jerked her back to safety against the cliff wall. For a moment they stood frozen, warm bodies pressed together against the cold, wet stone. Intoxicating lilacs and spice and woman jolted through him with an intensity that made him forget that drunken, furious smugglers were after them.

  His trance was broken when she snapped, “Let go of me, you oaf!”

  Jerking free, Kiri raced up the path again. He reached the clearing a few steps behind her. He could hear her panting as she stood at the paddock gate, and he guessed that she was calming herself so as not to upset the animals inside.

  Before he reached her, she opened the gate and moved in among the shaggy ponies. A tall riding hack with a white blaze made a whuffling sound and ambled toward her. She began crooning soft words and captured the horse easily. Mac was glad to see that the beast was saddled and ready to ride. That didn’t speak well for the smugglers’ care for horses, but it was convenient now.

  Since Mac had expected his visit to be short, his horse was also saddled, so they could get away quickly. Because of the threatening rain, he’d rolled up a spare cloak and fastened it behind César’s saddle. He retrieved the cloak and shook it out, then took it to his warrior maiden as she led her horse out of the paddock. “Here, lass.”

  She whirled around, a knife glinting in her hand. “Keep away!”

  “Put that thing down,” he said mildly. “I’m offering this cloak so you won’t freeze to death.”

  “Sorry.” She didn’t sound as if she meant it, but the knife disappeared and she accepted the cloak. “My thanks.”

  Mackenzie thought he heard a faint chattering of teeth as she wrapped the garment around herself. On most females, the cloak would drag on the ground, but this one was tall enough that the fabric swirled around her ankles.

  “Need a hand in mounting?” he asked.

  She glanced up at the large horse. “Yes,” she said grudgingly.

  The lass didn’t waste words, and her tone was icier than the night. She planted a riding boot on his linked hands and vaulted into the saddle. He watched in admiration, wondering if other women might adopt split skirts like hers. Ignoring him, Kiri put her heels to her mount and headed up the slanting trail with a skill that suggested she’d been put on horseback directly from the cradle.

  Shaking his head with amusement, Mac shooed a couple of friendly ponies back so he could latch the gate, then mounted César. The darkness and rain slowed Kiri down, so she wasn’t far ahead of him. When he reached the top of the track, he found her halted and scanning the stormy night while the cloak billowed around her.

  Guessing she had no idea which way to go, Mackenzie pulled up next to her. “Dover is several treacherous miles, there are no villages nearby, and the rain is going sideways, so we’d better take shelter,” he remarked. “I know a comfortable barn that’s about half an hour away. Farther than the smugglers are likely to follow.”

  Her face was a pale oval against the dark fabric. She asked, “Might they do that?”

  “I left the fifty-guinea purchase price, which will mollify most of them.” Mac remembered Howard’s furious expression. “But Howard might be drunk and angry enough to pursue us, and maybe he can persuade some of his friends to come along. Better to put some distance between us and them.”

  “There is no ‘us,’ Mr. Mackenzie,” she said icily. “I have every intention of distancing myself from you as well. I most certainly will not share a barn with you.”

  “There is a gale blowing off the Channel,” he pointed out. “Shall we continue this discussion undercover?”

  She looked up into the rain, shivering. After a long pause, she said, “Your word as a gentleman that you won’t trouble me in this barn of yours?”

  “I give my word that I won’t harm you, but if I’m not a gentleman, my word is worthless. You must trust your instincts.”

  “It’s hard to be afraid of a man who admits to laziness and a distaste for the sight of his own blood,” she said with a sigh. “I’m tired enough to take my chances with your uncertain honor. That and my knife should keep me safe.”

  “Never fear, I’m harmless,” he said in his most guileless manner. “Women are a lot of work even when they’re willing. Why would I want an unwilling one?”

  She snorted. “Very well, but remember that I am armed, Mr. Mackenzie.”

  It wasn’t the most gracious agreement Mac had ever heard, but it would do. He set César in motion in the right direction—and the warrior maiden followed.

  Mackenzie’s barn was isolated, with no other farm buildings visible. Kiri pulled up beside it gratefully. She was wet and exhausted and any shelter would do. Hard to remember that she’d started this day with hot chocolate and fresh bread served in a comfortable bedroom at Grimes Hall.

  Her unwelcome companion dismounted and opened the wide doors so she could lead Chieftain into the barn. “There will be hay inside,” he said. “Burrowing in should help warm you up. I’ll rub your horse down for you.”

  She dismounted creakily, aching in every muscle. “I take care of my own mount.”

  “Spoken like a true horsewoman,” he said with approval. “I’ll see if I can get a fire going. There’s no one close enough to see.”

  Wondering where he’d find dry wood, she removed Chieftain’s saddle and blanket. As the horse munched on a pile of hay, she used handfuls of the dried grasses to wipe him down.

  When she finished one side of the horse and moved around to the other, she was surprised to see Mackenzie striking sparks into a nest of tinder. It caught immediately, and the flames showed a stack of kindling and cut wood piled nearby.

  “Convenient to have firewood here,” she said as smoke wound out the door, which he’d left ajar. “Do your smuggler friends use this barn for storing goods?”

  “Sometimes, which explains the wood. But they’re not friends of mine.” He slipped his tinderbox back into his greatcoat. “Merely business associates.”

  “Drinking is your business?”

  “I have an establishment that requires high-quality wine and spirits.” With the fire going well, he stood and began rubbing down his horse. “Buying directly from Captain Hawk ensures quality.”

  “Practical, if not exactly legal.” She looked over Chieftain’s back to study Mackenzie’s rangy, ill-favored mount. “That’s a remarkably ugly horse.”

  “César might be jeered at in Rotten Row, but I’ve never met his equal for endurance.” Mackenzie patted the horse’s neck. “I traded a pouch of tobacco for him in Portugal. He was such an ugly colt that he was about to be turned into horse stew. We were both lucky
that day.”

  Kiri found his obvious affection for his horse rather endearing. Chieftain was far more handsome, though.

  The barn had several empty box stalls—convenient for storing casks of claret—so after Kiri had groomed Chieftain, she led him into a stall and made sure he had hay and water. Then she settled down by the fire. In the flickering light, she examined the knife she’d stolen. It was a sleek, well-made weapon, small enough to go into an arm or leg sheath. The handle was elaborately etched and the short blade had a businesslike edge.

  She was testing the balance when Mackenzie joined her at the fire. He eyed the blade, which happened to be pointing at him. “Is that a warning to keep my distance?”

  “Perhaps.” She turned the knife, watching the reflections on the blade. “Why should I trust you?”

  “I’m not the one who captured you and chained you in a cave.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “True, but you didn’t seem upset to see what your ‘business associates’ had done!”

  His brows arched. “Would it have helped if I’d cried out in horror, ‘You brutes! Release that young lady right now!’”

  She looked down at the knife, thinking that he was distractingly handsome now that she could see him clearly. “They would have laughed in your face, and possibly chained you up next to me. If you’d tried to free me yourself, you would have been stopped immediately.”

  “Exactly. One must know one’s audience,” he said. “If not for Howard, buying your freedom might have worked, but since he didn’t want to let you go, I had to come up with another approach. Playing cards for your fate amused them.”

  She shivered. “Clever, but you might easily have lost. Even winning, the beastly Howard accused you of cheating.”

  “He’s beastly, but not stupid,” Mackenzie said, amused. “I was cheating.”

  She gasped, shocked by his casual admission of dishonorable behavior. “You cheat at cards?”

  “When necessary,” Mackenzie replied. “You wouldn’t have wanted me to lose, would you?”

  She knew her eyes must be as wide as saucers. “No, but . . . you’re a gentleman, and that is not respectable behavior.”