by Kim Allred
"You're a traitor." Ethan's accompanying sneer enraged the man.
The spy stood so quickly, the barrel tipped over and rolled toward the darkness until a boot stopped it. It took him a couple of minutes to note the silence. Finn and Ethan understood because they'd seen the men at the edges of shadows. The spy had only the abrupt stop of the barrel to clue him in—they weren't alone.
Three men stepped from different paths through the crates. The spy turned, and when he saw the face of Valentin and two barrel-chested sailors, he backed up until he had nothing behind him but cage.
"Captain…" The man looked around, his head almost bobbing in the effort. A strangled laugh chirped out of him. "I was telling tales to keep your passengers occupied." He held out his hands in supplication while glancing over his shoulder at Finn.
Finn didn't respond.
Valentin nodded at one of the sailors, and the man moved swiftly, the punch landing even faster.
The spy was on his knees before he was aware of what happened. The second sailor stepped in and used his knee to slam into the downed man's chin. Finn heard bone snap and glanced at Ethan. Based on his grimace, he'd heard it too.
Then the show was over. Though not completely over for the spy.
Valentin had his man and a confession. Finn had a momentary twinge of pity for the man, then it vanished. Life at sea was hard. If Valentin didn't make an example of the man, he wouldn't be able to trust his crew. And that made it dangerous for everyone aboard.
Valentin nodded to one of the men, who unlocked the cage and opened the door.
Valentin spread his arms wide. "Come out and get some fresh air. Then we'll share a meal, and you can tell me about the women you chase." He raised a hand when Finn began to protest. "No. You can't hide this from me. I know the look of men without their women. Besides, it's been a long voyage with men way overdue for a bath. I could use some discussion about feminine pursuits."
When Finn and Ethan stepped out of the cage, the sailors dragged the spy inside then slammed the door shut with a metallic clank.
"I assume you have a decent vintage to go with dinner." Finn faced Valentin. "And I know you're eating better than the swill you've been feeding us."
Valentin laughed as he steered the men to the door. "What Frenchman would sail without a good stock of wine? And the best port. I believe we have one or two things to celebrate this evening. A traitor caught, we're less than a day from England, and we have years of tales to retell."
Valentin placed a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "And perhaps I can get you drunk enough to tell me why Murphy considers you such a valuable passenger."
Ethan just smiled as he shot a quick glance at the man replacing them in the cell. "Will he make it to England?"
Valentin glanced at the man with derision. "Oh, oui. He'll be mostly in one piece. I'll trade him for goodwill and a few coins. In this, he's better alive than dead."
As the men left the room they'd shared for two days, Ethan smiled at Finn. "Green."
When Finn raised a brow in confusion, Ethan said, "Her favorite flower is lavender, but she still favors the color green."
23
AJ dumped the small crate of supplies on the scarred table. When she'd left for town, the table wobbled terribly, yet it was sturdy now. She had to admit, she didn't think Beckworth would know how to fix something so simple, or find it within himself to do it. The young man who followed her from town with a cart carried in another load of supplies and set them on the kitchen counter. He left the last crate on the porch as requested by the older woman who lived in the old, well-cared for cottage.
AJ and Beckworth had arrived in the town of Corsham, five miles southeast of Waverly Manor, just after midday. As promised, Beckworth positioned himself at the remains of an old stone building just outside town while AJ continued on. The town was larger than she expected, and she kept her head low as she noted the different shops, keeping watch for anyone who looked menacing enough to be one of Dugan's men. Once through town, she circled the outskirts before returning to where she left Beckworth.
She'd given it a fifty-fifty chance that Beckworth would be waiting for her, but she found him lounging on his horse in the shadows of the building. When she trotted up and nodded, he turned his horse down a secondary road. She followed without question, assuming they were headed to the farmhouse he'd mentioned, but they stayed west for a mile before turning south. Beckworth must have changed his mind about his original destination.
AJ pictured being taken to an old, dilapidated wood structure. It turned out to be as old as anticipated but far from ramshackle. The colorful farmhouse pierced her heart when she thought of the cottage she'd shared with Finn in Ireland after their first jump. It seemed a lifetime ago. She pushed the thought away, knowing it would come back to haunt her when she tried to sleep.
The thin but hearty woman, Eleanor, had been genuinely happy to see Beckworth. The shock of that had barely worn off when AJ noted the kind way he cupped her weathered face and kissed her cheek. Who was this man? Then the old Beckworth returned when he shouted at AJ to take the horses to the stables and feed them. Then he took Eleanor's elbow and guided her carefully into the cottage.
AJ grumbled while she took the horses to the stable, removed the saddle from Beckworth's horse, and brushed it down as Finn had taught her. She had to admit, her anger had calmed by the time she finished feeding the horses. She kept her horse saddled since she intended to ride back to town as soon as she figured out what was up with Beckworth and the old woman.
When she returned to the cottage, Eleanor asked her to sit at the rickety table while she poured tea and fed AJ biscuits. The woman was spry for what AJ could only guess was a woman in her sixties, but age was difficult to determine in this century, especially among the working class. AJ glanced around the cottage. The house might be old, but it was well-loved.
Once AJ had been filled with tea and cookies, Eleanor showed her to a small guest room where Beckworth had placed her canvas bag on a chair. Before she left for town, he handed her a list of supplies, which included food, gunpowder, shot, clothing, and some feminine amenities that must be for Eleanor.
They had discussed AJ taking the cart, but since she never handled a horse in harness, Eleanor suggested she ask Mr. Covington at the mercantile to have one of the boys bring the supplies out.
She changed into a dress and tied up her hair. Eleanor gave her a thick shawl to wear and kissed her cheek. The gesture had made AJ more determined to find out what was up between this old woman and Beckworth.
AJ scanned the cottage and found a few other items that had been mended while she'd been gone. Eleanor returned from the garden carrying several vegetables she dumped in the kitchen basin. She crooned over the supplies. The discussion at dinner was all about Eleanor's only son, who had been studying to apprentice at the apothecary before he left for the war. She fretted constantly, and it was obvious Beckworth was equally concerned. He assured Eleanor her son would be safer once they discovered his medical expertise. He was positive the young lad would end up at an army hospital tending the injured. Whether Beckworth believed it or not, he never gave Eleanor any doubt to his claim, and AJ found herself hoping he was right.
Once the old woman had retired for bed, Beckworth pulled a bottle of wine from a cabinet in the living room.
"You shouldn't be taking her wine. I could have stopped at the inn."
"Nonsense. Who do you think gave her the wine in the first place? Besides, she has a cellar filled with bottles of the stuff."
AJ arched a brow. "All from you?"
He shrugged. "Mostly."
"So who is she to you? The two of you seem to know each other quite well."
"Just a dear friend who used to work at Waverly. More importantly, what did you hear in town?"
AJ wanted to dig deeper into the only person she'd met that could bring out a tender side to Beckworth. She'd been positive he didn't have one. But he was right. She needed to stay f
ocused.
"Not much. When I made a comment about hearing the viscount was back at the estate, people clammed up."
"Hmm." Beckworth pulled at his sleeves before drumming his fingers on the table.
"That's all you have to say? Doesn't it sound like they're hiding something?"
"Or maybe they're scared to say anything that might find its way back to them. You're a stranger in town asking about the viscount. You do remember how scary Dugan is, don't you?"
AJ hadn't thought of that. But was that enough to explain the closed lips she'd found in every shop she'd entered? Probably. People from small towns tended to stay close and shut others out, especially if driven by fear of reprisal.
"I should have stopped at the inn. I might have heard more from someone who had too much ale." She leaned in and ran a finger along the wood grain, knowing it was something Finn did when in thought. "I did happen to hear something at the mercantile. I don't think the two women knew I was behind them. A week ago, one of them saw the viscount's carriage on the road to someplace called Hagersham. He returned a few hours later."
Beckworth leaned in. "You're sure they said Hagersham?"
"It's not an easy name to forget. What does that tell us?"
"Not sure, to be honest, but it is interesting."
"Why?"
"There's nothing there anymore except for an old church. Most of that has deteriorated over time. The church was built in the ninth century." He sat back and sighed. "There might be someone in Bath who knows something about it. Hagersham is about five miles east of there. Did either of them say they actually saw the viscount?"
Good question. She had wondered as well, and if she hadn't stayed to eavesdrop for as long as she had, she would have missed the most important piece. "The younger woman swore she saw the viscount poke his head out the window. The carriage had been held up by a cart with a broken wheel. She said the viscount seemed very impatient and yelled at the driver to go around. Her description of ash-blond hair and blue eyes sounded like it could've been you."
Beckworth jumped from his seat to set a kettle of water over the fire.
"Do you know this man who claims to be the viscount?" AJ had a gut feeling Beckworth was holding back, and retired reporter or not, she thought it a good time to toss the question out there.
Beckworth grabbed the edge of the counter, his knuckles almost white. Without seeing his face, AJ wasn't sure how to gauge his response. Had she gotten close to something, or was he just angry that someone claimed to be him?
"I don't know him." Beckworth remained at the counter until the water was hot in the kettle.
Once he poured the tea, he settled back down. His face was haggard, days of confinement finally catching up with him. She considered the situation from his perspective. He'd been gone four months, yet a year had passed him by. Then he discovered someone else had moved into his home, taken everything he'd built, legally or otherwise, and called it their own.
But they were forgetting the important piece of the puzzle, the reason she was here—to find Maire.
She turned the cup of tea in her hands, then broached the topic. "Not once did I hear any mention of anyone staying at Waverly other than this viscount. If Maire was there, where would she be?"
The question seemed to shake Beckworth out of his personal musings. "She could be locked up in the same chambers as before, but it will be difficult to confirm." He stared at the fire, then turned to study AJ. "There is one other place we could try. If she's not there, and if the building isn't being used for anything else, the location may give us a vantage point."
AJ nodded, thinking she knew where he was going. "Are you talking about the old barracks building?"
Beckworth shook his head. "No. The building is too valuable for housing his security force. There's another building on the other side of the property. It's well hidden behind trees and shrubs."
"An old guest house of some sort?" That didn't make sense, even to her.
When Beckworth didn't answer, a shiver crawled up her spine. "What kind of building is it?"
"It used to house holding cells."
"A jail?" AJ tried to play down the rising panic while not waking Eleanor.
He shrugged. "Of a sort." When he noticed AJ's distress, he tried to calm her. "Let's not get worked up. If Maire's there, it will be easier to extract her, depending on the number of guards."
AJ bit her lip, considering their options. They weren't there to rescue Maire, just to confirm if she was on the estate. But if she'd been held in a cell all this time? AJ wouldn't be able to make a decision until they confirmed she was at the estate and could evaluate the situation. Finn, where are you? She pushed her tea away. One thing was certain. She'd get little sleep until she knew for sure if Maire was within reach.
24
Leaves rustled behind AJ as she crept toward the next tree. She pressed her body against the rough bark and, closing her eyes, counted to ten to calm her breathing. When she refocused on her surroundings, she caught a flash of Beckworth melding behind the tree she'd just left. He nodded toward the clearing.
She gathered a breath and inched around the tree. Two guards, their backs to her, spoke for several seconds before parting, each striding off in different directions to continue their rounds. That made six guards in all they'd spotted since they began their reconnaissance thirty minutes ago.
Beckworth had woken AJ at first light and promised Eleanor they'd be back in a couple of hours for a hearty breakfast. By the time AJ had dressed in her pants and jacket, she'd found Beckworth walking around the yard, head down, occasionally squatting to pick up a rock or digging through a pile of leafy debris. When he found a rock to his particular liking, he placed it in his pocket and continued on.
She watched him for several minutes before he noticed her.
"Come over here. I have some for you." Beckworth didn't bother to glance at her before he moved to another section of the yard.
"I know we're somewhat limited on our weapons, but sticks and stones?" AJ quirked a smile when Beckworth lifted his head, his expression serious.
"No sticks. Just the stones." He stuck his hand in a pocket and came out with a handful. "Here. Put these in your pocket."
When she stared at his prized collection, he sighed. "Truly, woman, even with this, you fight me?"
AJ pinched the bridge of her nose. "I haven't had a decent cup of coffee since leaving Baywood. The coffee at the monastery was only passable, and it was deplorable on the ship. I think I'm having withdrawal symptoms, or possibly hallucinations. Searching the yard for rocks was the last thing I expected from you."
Beckworth flashed a breathtaking smile. "Oh, my dear, this will not be the last of my surprises. This is a very old trick that, even in its simplicity, works every time." He scraped another pile of debris with his foot to discover several more jewels he slid into his pocket.
He led her over to a log where a tin mug, a glass bottle, and a wooden crate the size of a microwave had been set up. The lineup appeared to be a makeshift target range. "You seem to have some skill with your dagger. Though I doubt you'd hit your mark every time, especially if you haven't maimed or killed anyone yet."
When she raised a brow, he continued. "And stabbing me twice is not nearly the same as hitting the same mark with a throw."
She planted her hands on hips with a reluctant nod, knowing he was right.
"Your archery skills, on the other hand…" He paused to run his hands through his hair. "Well, you're downright scary. But again, aiming for a target, even if it was inches from my head, is different than aiming for a man's chest."
AJ turned to scan the yard, anything to not look him in the eyes. "I know."
"Don't pout. It's the same for anyone. If we're in peril, I have no doubt you'll come through. But a split second of indecisiveness isn't just about giving the other person the advantage. That instant of delay could also make you miss your mark."
AJ chafed under the mixed complime
nt, but he was right. Until she was under battle conditions, there was no telling how she'd react.
"Now, these stones." He pulled a couple out of his pocket and jostled them in his hand as if testing their weight. "These will accomplish two things in surveying our main target—the outbuilding with the holding cells. We must remain quiet. They can't hear us coming nor moving about. If we need to communicate, and hand signals or other gestures are impossible, then we'll use these to gain each other's attention."
"You mean if you're not paying attention to me, I simply throw a rock to wake you up?"
His smile came easily. "Now you have it."
"And you want to practice throwing rocks?"
His smile faded. "It's not as easy as it looks." He turned, and with almost no thought, threw the rock which struck the tin mug dead center as it went flying. He tossed her a stone. "You try."
AJ knew better than to just throw it, so she used the skills she'd learned with the dagger and bow. Without taking much time to set up, she lobbed the rock at the crate and watched it sail by the target.
He whistled. "Not bad."
"I missed it by an inch."
"Yes. But unlike the dagger and bow, you're not trying to kill or injure me. Please try to remember that. You just want my attention."
She rolled her eyes, but couldn't resist a jab. "I'll try to remember. But I can't predict what might happen in the heat of battle."
"Funny. Now, here's the critical part, and the second reason for the stones. As difficult as it is to say this, try to aim for the largest part of me. If my back is to you, aim for the middle of my back. If I'm turned sideways, aim for the largest surface area. You don't want to rustle tree leaves or make any other sound."
She brightened as she understood his meaning. "If I don't hit you, softening the sound of the rock, someone nearby could hear, giving away your location. If that were to happen, I should throw another one in the opposite direction."
He nodded, somewhat disgruntled. "You're quick for a woman." After she scowled, he threw another rock. "But here's the rub. While this is a simple trick—and works almost every time—it's only good once. Possibly a second time if there are more men or slow-witted guards."