He flushed slightly. “If it were me, miss, we wouldn’t have taken you at all. Pa ain’t a bad sort, and I know he won’t hurt you. But we’re expecting a big shipment, worth a lot of money. He didn’t want you to interfere.”
“Had you simply left me on the beach with his lordship, I think it would have been less interference than you’ll experience now. And God help you all if he’s badly hurt.” She didn’t want to contemplate worse—she’d never be able to bear it if they’d killed him. “They’ll have the Waterguard searching for you, and you will hang.”
“She’s right,” came a voice behind her, startling her so badly she dropped her cider. Shorty frowned at her as if this were entirely her fault. “Guardsmen are out searching the coastline—saw three boats coming this way. We need to take cover.”
He grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her toward the cave before she could even contemplate yelling for help.
Chapter 15
Peter eyed his godmother’s skiff with some trepidation. “Are you sure it’s seaworthy?” He walked around it, kicked the bottom. It seemed sturdy enough. Possibly.
“Of course it’s seaworthy. Why would I send you out in a boat that wasn’t? Your father would kill me.”
“Somehow I doubt it. He’s not terribly happy with me at the moment.” When he had gone upstairs to wash, he found a letter from his father on his dressing table. ‘Not terribly happy’ was an understatement of monumental proportions, and the earl didn’t even know about Judith’s kidnapping yet. Phrases like ‘shirking your duty’ and ‘disgrace to the family’ appeared more than once. Peter shuddered to think what his father would do when informed Peter now had to throw over Cassandra and marry Judith.
“He’ll forgive you, although I may need to give him a scolding first. It’s not your fault you were put in a compromising position.” Peter opened his mouth to object, but she held up a finger. “We’ve already had this conversation, and we’ll say no more about it. I’m an old lady and can say whatever I like.”
Peter laughed. “You’ve always said whatever you liked, no matter how old you were. Why should that be different now?”
“Exactly. Now help me push this.” She set her hands on the edge of the skiff and pushed. It slid easily toward the water.
“It doesn’t appear you need my help, Aunt Gin,” he said, but joined her nonetheless. Within a moment or two it bobbed in the waves.
“Get in; I’ll hold it for you. There are oars, as well as some provisions.” Once he had climbed in and sat on the sturdy wooden bench, she held out a map printed on oilskin. She pointed to a spot. “This is where we are. Head to here.” She drew a line with her finger several miles to the west. “Tunno and his boys have a cave nearby, although I don’t know exactly where it is. If I know Henry, he’ll be grilling lobster, so you may see smoke before you see them.”
“Henry?”
“The younger boy. He’s not cut out for smuggling.”
“I see. You really do know these men, don’t you? Do you think they’ll hurt her?”
“No, I don’t, but Shorty is a volatile man. If he feels threatened…” She shook her head. “Let’s not think that way. You will find them, and you’ll rescue Miss Leslie. And your father may never speak to me again if he ever finds out.”
“He won’t hear of your role in this from me. But when he disinherits me, Judith and I will come to live with you.” Peter said with a wink.
“Of course,” she said seriously. He had been joking, but fear settled in his chest as he wondered if his father truly would cut him off.
“Now off with you, boy. Be careful. And Godspeed.” She handed him the map and released the skiff.
He looked over his shoulder as he began to row away, but she was already gone.
****
Judith chafed at the ropes which again bound her wrists and ankles. Shorty had stuffed a dirty cloth in her mouth so she wouldn’t cry out as the Guardsmen approached. There had been a flurry of activity as the smugglers had smothered Henry’s fire, used branches which had been stashed in the cave to erase their footprints, and then covered the cave entrance with a tarp painted to resemble the surrounding rocks. It wouldn’t fool anyone who was walking on the beach, but it would be enough to prevent the guards from investigating if they saw it from the water.
All of them now huddled in the dark, as they couldn’t risk lighting a torch. One of them had fallen asleep, as she could hear the snores—Judith’s money was on George. She could barely see the outline of the two older men near the entrance, and the occasional glint of a knife in Shorty’s hand.
What was he going to do? Stab the guardsmen? Panic lodged in Judith’s belly as she attempted to imagine an outcome to this that didn’t involve her dead body washing up on the shore.
She jumped when she felt a presence beside her. Henry.
“Are you all right, miss?” he whispered. “I wish I could remove your gag, but Pa would kill us both if you cried out.”
Judith nodded, although it didn’t do much to convey her thoughts, which were not suitable for polite company. Her mother would be appalled.
Which made her think about her mother, and the fact she might never see her again. A tear leaked out of her eye and down her cheek, and because her hands were bound, she couldn’t wipe it away. She pictured Peter. Kissing her. Winking at her. Lying pale and motionless in the sand. She growled from behind the gag.
“Quiet, girl,” whispered Tunno.
She squirmed, trying to loosen her bonds, but they only grew tighter as she struggled.
“It won’t be much longer,” Henry whispered. “Please be quiet. I promise I’ll untie you as soon as the guards leave.”
Judith stilled. She wasn’t going to get anywhere with her restraints. And she didn’t want to cause trouble for Henry, however much she wanted his cohorts thrown in jail. He had been kind to her and had obviously been dragged into this life by his father. She felt rather sorry for him; in another family, he could have been a baker, maybe even a great chef in a noble house. Her mouth watered, imagining his culinary creations. She vowed if she ever got out of this mess she would help him break away from his kin.
Silence settled over the cave like an itchy blanket. Judith closed her eyes, tried to relax, to empty her mind. Anything to stop herself from dwelling on the fear and anxiety that filled her.
Finally, light flickered back into the cave, and she opened her eyes. Tunno had peeled back the tarp and stuck his head through the opening, then left the cave. Judith squirmed; her fingers tingled uncomfortably.
Tunno returned and pulled down the tarp, flooding the cave with sunlight. “They’re gone, lads.” He began to bark directions to the men, but Henry ignored him, focusing instead on freeing Judith. As the ropes loosened, pain poured into her fingers as the blood returned. She shook her hands and stretched her arms behind her back. Her mouth was so dry from the gag, she croaked as she thanked Henry.
Henry blushed to the tips of his hair again. He really was adorable, but he couldn’t compete with Peter.
A shadow crossed over her, and she raised her head. Tunno was glaring at her. “Time to go, princess.”
“Where?”
“Never you mind.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Shorty would like me to.”
If it weren’t for the seriousness of their conversation, Judith would have laughed—it seemed she was not the only one who called Tunno’s companion Shorty. She swallowed, almost afraid to hear the answer to her next question. “But you don’t want to?”
Tunno spat in the dirt at her feet. “I may be a thief and a smuggler, but I ain’t a murderer. And besides, you haven’t given us as much trouble as I expected. By the time you get to civilization, we’ll be long gone.”
“Civilization? Does that mean you’re planning to release me?”
Tunno ignored her. “Let’s go.” He grasped her arm roughly and pulled her to her feet. “Henry, load the boat with provisions. We’ll leave a
nything we can’t safely carry.”
“Are we coming back here?”
“One day, mebbe. It’s too hot now.”
Henry nodded and grabbed a crate.
“Stop,” Tunno growled. “What is that?”
“My cooking supplies.”
“Too heavy.”
“But, Pa, we’ll need ’em.”
“We ain’t gotta cook, Henry. It’s too heavy, and we’ll have water to carry. Do you want to swamp the boat?”
Henry shook his head, his eyes heavy with sadness as he returned the crate to a spot along the wall. He grabbed a box of apples and slouched out of the cave.
“Your son is better than this life, you know,” Judith said. “You should leave him here to make his own way.”
Tunno’s eyes widened. “I’ll thank you not to be telling me how to raise my boys. Henry ain’t no better than the rest of us.”
“If you say so,” Judith said, climbing into the boat before Shorty threw her in again. Planting the seed of doubt in the man’s mind would have to suffice for now, as she couldn’t risk angering him while he still held her fate in his rough hands.
****
Peter’s arms, shoulders, and back throbbed with a persistent ache he hadn’t felt since he rowed at Oxford. But he couldn’t stop, not when Judith’s safety was at risk. With every stroke of the oars, he had to believe he drew closer.
He hugged the shoreline, his gaze scanning the beaches and rocks for some sign of Judith. He honestly didn’t know what he was looking for, but he would know it when he saw it.
Chapter 16
After what seemed like hours huddled in the boat, heading God knew where, Judith couldn’t help but wonder what they were going to do with her. Tunno had been clear he didn’t want to kill her, but he hadn’t been clear at all about what he would do. Leave her stranded somewhere? How would she find her way back to Howley House? She had left her reticule in her room when she had gone down to explore the caves, so was completely without funds. She would have to beg postage and write a letter to her mother.
But she was getting ahead of herself, assuming she’d be in a position to write anything. Tunno barked orders at Henry while George slept, oars held lax, his head tilted back and snoring. She was tempted to kick him but was afraid he’d retaliate, or worse, drop one of his oars so it would take even longer to get home.
Fortunately, Tunno did it for her, and George woke with a start, barely catching the oar before it slid into the water. She didn’t quite smother a snort, and the boy sneered at her in response.
“Why don’t we make her row?” he complained. “She’s doing nothin’ except eatin’ our food and starin’ at me.”
“Quiet, boy,” Tunno said before Judith could reply. “She’s a girl. Can’t be trusted to row us anywhere but into the rocks.”
Judith couldn’t let that pass. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent rower. Better than my brothers, at any rate.”
Tunno squinted at her. “Is that so? Perhaps we should give you a try.”
“I’d prefer it to watching his pathetic efforts,” Judith said, glaring at George. Henry was giggling, so she grinned at him.
George threw his oars down and crawled to the back of the boat with Shorty. Judith took his place in the center and picked up the oars. For all her bravado, she hadn’t had an oar in her hands in several years, her mother deeming the practice inappropriate for a young lady. They were heavier than she was used to and rough in her palms. But once she started, her muscles remembered. Soon she was matching Henry stroke for stroke, and they moved far faster than they had when George was rowing.
It felt so good to be doing something after what seemed like days tied up and in the dark. To be stretching her muscles, even if her arms strained at the tight sleeves and her corset pinched under her breasts. She hadn’t given in, even when she was convinced these men would kill her.
She noticed Henry watching her from beneath his long lashes.
“You’re good at this,” he said, admiration tinging his tone. “Not even just for a girl. For men too.” He blushed, dipped his head to avoid her regard.
“Thank you, Henry. That’s possibly the best compliment I’ve ever received.”
“Truly?” he asked, his head coming back up, his expression hopeful.
“Yes. Truly.” She beamed at him as she continued to row. To take her mind off the blisters she was certain were beginning to form on her hands, she asked, “Where did you learn to cook?”
“My grandmother, mostly. Mum’s mum. She liked to bake, especially, and didn’t mind having me underfoot. I was sickly, so I had to stay home when my brother was out with Pa.”
Apparently, it had been good for him. He was skinny, but strong, and seemed healthy enough.
“What’s your favorite thing to bake?”
He cocked his head, his lips curving. “Apple tarts. Grandmother had a special recipe she got from her ma, who was French.”
“What was so special?”
“Brandy. Apple brandy, called Calvados.”
“Calvados. How intriguing. I’d like the recipe, if you can part with it.”
“I’ll have to tell it to you. I ca…” He paused, the tips of his ears turning pink.
“What?”
“I can’t write.”
Judith swallowed her pity—he wouldn’t thank her for it. “I have a good memory.”
He sighed, possibly in relief she hadn’t said anything about his declaration. “Do you know how to make an apple tart? The usual way?”
“I do. Our cook makes a very nice tart, and she taught me.”
“So do that, then mix brandy with sugar and some cinnamon in a pan, until it gets syrupy.”
“And then?”
“Brush it on the tarts before you put them in the oven, and then again when you take them out, when they’re still warm.”
“Mmm, delicious.” Judith’s mouth watered as she imagined the smell of apples and cinnamon wafting through the kitchen of her home in Derbyshire. “I’ll have to make them for my family. Shall I call them ‘Henry’s Tarts’?”
He blushed again, his skin fairly glowing in the approaching twilight. “No, please don’t. What if your family doesn’t like ’em?”
“I can’t imagine that.”
“Oi, you two,” Tunno said. “Shut yer mouths. There’s something over there.” Judith followed his finger, pointing toward a speck along the coast. Was it a boat? Perhaps the Waterguard was back.
“What’ll we do, Pa?” George asked. “There’s no place to put in.”
“Maybe you should take your seat and put the fine lady back in her restraints where she belongs.”
Just thinking of being tied up again made Judith’s wrists chafe. “I’ll be quiet, I promise. I won’t say anything.”
“Hmmph. So you say, missy. I’d rather not test your trustworthiness.”
Shorty crawled toward her and took the oars away, shoving her toward the back of the boat.
“Stop it, Shorty.” Henry shouted. “She’s a lady. I’ll thank you to treat her as one.”
Shorty barked a sharp laugh. “Aren’t you a hoity-toity gent, then? What will ye do to me?”
Taking advantage of the man’s distraction, Judith grabbed one of the oars and swung it. The wood connected with Shorty’s skull in a satisfying but rather sickening thud. His eyes rolled up into his head as his body vibrated, swaying dangerously until he toppled over with a splash.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t intend to hit him so hard!” She raced to the side, looking for signs of life. “We have to stop.”
Tunno shook his head. “We haven’t time. That boat is drawing closer. If it’s the guard, we need to put to shore. We certainly can’t have a woman rowing.”
“You can’t have one tied up in the corner, either.” Judith snapped. “He’s your friend. You can’t just let him drown. What is wrong with you?”
Tunno spat into the water as the boat drifted away from the site of Shorty
’s disappearance. “He’s no friend to me. He’s a business associate, and not a pleasant one at that. Chances are he’ll come back up, spittin’ mad and meaner than ever.”
Secretly Judith suspected Tunno was right. Shorty seemed far too mean to die in anything other than a bloody gun battle. Nevertheless, she couldn’t sit there and let the man drown. She bent over to remove her boots, but her stays made reaching her feet difficult.
“What are you doing?” Tunno barked. “You’re not thinking of jumping in after him?”
“Of course I am, since you obviously won’t.” She managed to get one boot untied and tugged on it.
“Stop it, you damn fool woman. Why I didn’t just knock you out like your gentleman and leave you on the beach I’ll never know.”
George snickered and his father turned on him. “Think it’s funny, do you, lad? You jump in after him, then.”
The boy paled. “Me?”
“You can swim better’n Henry. Get in there.”
George tugged off his boots, then removed his suspenders and shirt, glaring daggers at Judith and grumbling under his breath. Judith barely registered the sight of his bare chest, far hairier than that of her brothers, before he slid into the water and swam over to the spot where Shorty had gone in. Judith kept her gaze fixed on the surface of the sea.
It was quiet, far too quiet, the only sound the lapping of the water against the boat and the creak of the oars against the wood. In the distance she could see the other vessel drawing nearer, but she still couldn’t make out what it was.
Just then George’s dark head burst through the water, sputtering as he dragged a motionless Shorty over to them. Judith and Henry helped to pull the unconscious man out of the water. Judith didn’t miss the disdainful look George received from his father, as if he wished the boy had been unsuccessful.
Henry alternately pressed on Shorty’s chest and forced air into his lungs, until the older man coughed up a great quantity of water. Henry rolled him onto his side, the water from his lungs pooling at the bottom of the boat.
Judith was relieved she wasn’t a murderer, but she wasn’t particularly happy to see Shorty back in the boat. It would have been far better for her had George taken him to shore. Tunno spat in disgust and turned back to the boat behind them, drawing ever closer. So much closer, in fact, she could tell it was a man in a skiff not unlike their own.
Treasure Her Heart Page 11