Edith Layton (5 page)

The plump man gestured frantically. “Closer,” he said huskily. “Dunno who might be coming out to use the privy, y’know. Don’t want to wake no one in the stables, neither.”

She didn’t want to go closer, the men smelled bad enough from where she stood. But she edged a step nearer.

“Yes. Well, then. So, about my cousin,” she said, aware that she was too nervous to be talking clearly, and suddenly even more aware that she’d possibly done a very stupid thing.

A moment later, she couldn’t talk at all. A big hand whipped out from behind her and clapped over her mouth. It tasted rancid, and held her fast as another hand clamped around her waist. She was pulled back against a hard body. She struggled, biting and hissing, but she could hardly breathe, much
less make a sound. She couldn’t land a kick either, her legs were held still, captured between her assailants’. She was silently and inexorably dragged into the shadows behind the stables.

“You was right,” she heard the filthy man from the inn say softly from behind her. He fumbled at her, and squeezed a breast hard. “Pretty and plump in all the right places. I goes first.”

“Damned if you do!” the plump man said in a fierce whisper. “Whose idea was it, eh?”

Meg felt her stomach grow cold and her legs weak.

The plump man began to unbutton his breeches. “I found her,” he said. “I get her first, that’s the way of it.”

“Damned if you do,” the man behind her growled. “You got the last one. It’s my turn.”

“No,” breathed the big thick man as he stared at Meg. “This time, it’s me.”

“Now, listen to me,” the plump man said in a hoarse whisper. “I made the game, and I make the rules. This one is mine first. Then, you two decide who goes next. But make it fast, and be quiet, and then cosh her and leave her. We’re out of here and gone right after. We take her, and then her purse, and then we go. Understood?”

There was a moment of grudging silence.

Meg felt hot tears and cold shame as she strained to break free. She wasn’t a big woman, but she thought herself fit, and was shocked to find she couldn’t even move. She’d never had her strength tested against a grown man before. It felt as though
she were caught in a vise. The man behind her clamped down hard to stop her struggles. She felt his rising excitement against her back. For the first time in her life she knew what it was to be utterly powerless. There was no argument that she could make, no appeal she could utter, no strength to break free. She refused to believe what was happening.

She could only stare at the plump man in horror as, smiling, he strolled toward her.

And then she saw him stop, look over her shoulder, and stare.

The hard hand left her mouth, the crushing pressure on her arms eased abruptly, she suddenly found herself freed. She stumbled, then righted herself and pulled away, looking frantically for a place to run to, terrified that this was only a new game. But when she glanced behind her she saw the man who had caught her slumped on the ground.

She spun around and saw the plump man’s lips open, but no words came out. They were stopped by the fist that struck him square in the mouth. Meg stood, astounded, as his attacker rushed in, knocked the plump man to the ground, dragged him up by his bandana and struck him down again, until he lay still.

The thickset man stood watching, dumbfounded. Then he closed his opened mouth. He shook himself out of his astonishment and came lumbering forward. And went reeling back, as the man who had struck down the other two came hurtling at him head bent, and rammed him in the stomach. While the
thick man staggered, the other man landed one, two, three more blows, not stopping until his opponent was laid out on the ground.

The inn yard was quiet again, except for Meg’s ragged gasping, and the rough breathing of the man who stood, hands on his hips, facing her.

She steeled herself. She hadn’t fought before. Now, she’d run. Scream the rooftops down; she’d attack with her nails and her teeth, she’d fight to her death if she had to. She would not be captured again. She raised her chin.

“Lord, woman, have you no sense at all?” the gypsy asked in exasperation.

“N
o. It could
not
have happened to anyone,” Daffyd said, cutting off Meg’s stammered explanation. “It could only happen to someone too stupid to be left out by herself in the rain, much less the dark. Now, go inside. I’ll talk to you later. I have to see to these beauties.” He poked one of the men in the ribs with the tip of his boot.

“What are you going to do with them?” Meg asked nervously, taking a tiny step back. The shock of seeing that it was the gypsy, Mr. Daffeigh, who had come to her rescue had eased somewhat, but she was still wondering if he was somehow in league with the vile trio.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to take them home and nurse them. What do you think I’m going
to do?…Oho,” he said, seeing her expression, “You think they’re my mates, do you? Could be. Maybe I always let them abduct women, and then after I beat the cra…stuffing out of them, it’s my turn to menace the female. But since I like my comforts, I take my women in their beds instead of inn yards.”

It sounded ridiculous, but the horror of what had happened was so fresh in her mind it also sounded weirdly plausible to Meg. She stepped back another pace.

“Oh, go away,” he said in disgust. “You don’t have to see me again. It had nothing to do with you. I just don’t like rapists. Don’t worry. You won’t see them again either. Well?” he asked angrily, when she just stood there. “Are you going?”

“I
do
want to see you again,” she said, knotting her hands together. “I need to talk to you.”

“Then you will,” he said, looking at the villain by his feet. The man was stirring. “But not now. Go!”

Meg fled. She ran into the inn, up the stairs, into her room, bolted the door, and sat on her bed. After a moment, she rose, lit her lamp, and then sat down on the one chair. She sat, shivering, wondering what to do next. What she most wanted to do was hide.

But she waited. By the time she became aware that she was cold, it was growing late, and the night was passing. It was dead silent, and for the first time she began thinking about what to do next. She wouldn’t go to bed. Sleep would make her vulnerable. But when first light appeared, she’d watch from her window, be sure that the villains were nowhere in sight,
then creep down the stair, avoid the treacherous serving maid, and get on the first coach going in any direction.

That decided, Meg breathed normally for the first time in a very long time.

A clattering at her window made her shoot to her feet, and begin to edge back toward the door. Then she froze, wondering if someone was throwing things at her window precisely so she
would
leave her room, so they could grab her when she did. She looked around wildly, but saw no weapon with which she could defend herself. The lamp by the bedside might catch her sleeves on fire if she hurled it. The bag she traveled with was too soft to hurt anyone. There wasn’t a hearth in the wretched little room, so there wasn’t even a fire poker to defend herself with.

She suddenly thought of the only possible lethal weapon at her command. She snatched it up. Then she edged away until she stood with her back to the door. She raised her weapon and looked at the window, breathing rapidly, waiting for the inevitable, whatever it might be.

The shutters flew inward. A dark shape slipped inside, and stooped when it saw her.

“Is that for me?” Daffyd asked, gesturing toward the heavy chamber pot she’d raised over her head. “Thankee. Considerate of you. But I don’t need it. I had the whole outdoors to use just now.”

“Why didn’t you come in the door?” she demanded, still holding the chamber pot over her head.

“Oh. And I suppose you’d have let me in if I knocked?” he asked sweetly.

“If you said who you were.”

“Right. And since I didn’t want anyone to know, I’d have whispered. So if you didn’t hear me, I’d have had to shout. Then the world would know you had a man coming to your room.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or did you want that?”

“No,” she said, “Of course not, no.”

“You might as well put it down,” he said conversationally, eyeing the way her arms were wavering under the weight of the chamber pot. “If it slips you’ll have the mother of all headaches. Is it full, by the way?”

“Oh,” Meg said, lowering her arms and looking at what she held. “No, of course not, no.”

He noted her pallor, her breathless, repetitive speech. He frowned. Then his voice changed, grew softer, gentler. “Put it on the floor,” he told her. “Things get heavier the longer you hold them. Then sit down. The men who bothered you won’t be back. I won’t hurt you. You’re safe. Really.” He reached out a hand. “If you can’t put it down, give it to me. No sense hanging on to it. Or is there?”

“No, of course not, no,” she said, and held the chamber pot out to him.

He took it, put it on the floor, and studied her. Her eyes were wide, her face was white, and her breathing was quick and shallow. He’d seen this before. “Just sit,” he said. “We’ll talk. When you feel like it. You’re fine, it’s fine, nothing will hurt you now.”

She stood still.

He sighed. “I promise,” he said quietly. “I won’t hurt you.”

She believed him. She suddenly realized that what he said was true. It was over. She was safe. He hadn’t attacked her, he’d saved her. She made a queer little sound, like a stifled sob, and looked at him directly for the first time since he’d come into her room. “Thank you,” she said. “Did I say thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” he said gravely. “Now, will you sit down?”

She went to the chair and sat, drawing her skirts primly around her ankles.

He nodded, and leaned against the wall by the window. “Now,” he said. “Want to tell me the real reason you’re chasing the heiress?”

She took a deep shuddering breath. “What happened to them? The men, I mean.”

“Oh, them. No worries. They’re gone. Not free,” he added quickly, when he saw her eyes widen. “In custody, you could say.”

“The Runners?”

He laughed. “No. Nor with the local justice of the peace. The Runners are too far off and there was no reason to wake the justice. No, I’ve friends. They’re taking care of those nasty blokes. For a profit, so I know it’s being done right. That’s how everything gets done in this world. A man can be any kind of evil and get away with it. But not if he interferes with business. Money is God in most civilized places.
Matters more than life, actually. That’s why a fellow can get his neck stretched for stealing a man’s snuffbox, same as for taking his life. Blood and money comes to the same thing in the world of justice.”

“They’re not coming back?” she asked.

“Never. They’re being delivered to those who’ll appreciate their company the most, and come down heavy for it. See, I heard about them before I met up with them. Those dirty guts have been preying on people up and down the Brighton road. There’s a reward out. Coaching companies don’t like someone spoiling their business. Of course, His Majesty’s Royal Mail would be interested in them, too.” His voice curled with irony as he added, “But though there’s little justice for the wicked in this land, there are loopholes, now and then. I didn’t want them to find any. Bribes, blackmail, luck—oh, there are ways a villain can escape his fate. So I thought it best they never got even so far as Tyburn tree. They won’t. The gents that run the coaching lines will see to that. Don’t trouble yourself. It’s over. They’re gone.”

He straightened and stared at her. “Now, why the devil are you chasing after the chit? And why were you such a fool as to meet those devils alone, in the dark? Or were you meeting them for the first time? Are you as innocent as you pretend, after all?”

“I met them because I was a fool,” she said sadly. Her eyes widened. “But the serving girl? Is she in league with them?”

“She’s in league with whoever’s got coins in their pocket. Forget her. More. Tell me more.”

“I told you, I’m Rosalind’s companion, or was. When she disappeared they blamed me for not keeping closer watch on her. I couldn’t bear the way they were looking at me. The Runner in charge, Mr. Murchison, suggested I leave for a spell.” She raised one hand. “I know. I think he might have wanted me to leave so someone could follow to see where I was going. But I changed coaches and believe I fooled whoever that was several miles back on the road, and he lost my trail.”

“Now, why would you do a thing like that?” he asked softly, but with new interest.

Her temper flared. “Because if you’d been accused, if not in so many words, of being in league with a runaway heiress, and then, when you were already packed and ready to go visit with your old governess, and then, and only then, remembered your charge might have given you a hint of where she was off to”—she drew in a much needed breath—“would you have changed your story?”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t be doing any of that, so I couldn’t say. But I can sympathize. I’m not fond of Runners, though I’ve met one of two who are decent enough. Murchison is, by the way.”

She stared. “You know him?”

“Yes,” he said and finally moved. He began to pace her little room. “So where is she going?”

She hesitated. “What is your interest in this, sir? You said you’re a gypsy, but you don’t sound or look like one. You said you were asked to find her, but how can I believe you?”

He stopped his pacing and cocked his dark head again. She saw his white teeth glint in the growing light in the room. “Because,” he said, “who else are you going to believe?”

He waited until she’d taken that in, and added, “I told you. I’m looking for her as a favor to her godmother. I’ll find her and take her home. That’s all there is to it. Now, again. Where do you think she’s gone?”

She knew when she’d come to the end of one road. She’d acted like a fool, but she wasn’t one. Her experience tonight had showed her that this pursuit was filled with dangers she hadn’t foreseen. She needed help. This man, whoever he was, had a still, sure certainty about him. And he’d saved her from a terrible fate. For whatever reason, she trusted him, and though he was rough spoken at times, and certainly mysterious, she believed she could work with him.

“I think,” Meg finally admitted, “she’s going to Plymouth.” She raised her eyes to his. “At least, I think I remember she had her finger on the map and it was on Plymouth.”

She didn’t expect his reaction. He threw back his head and laughed. “Listen, Miss Margaret, I already knew that,” he said, on a last chuckle. “And you risked your pretty neck—and other pretty parts—for that? Folly.” He shook his head. “Why else do you think I’m here? I’ve followed you all the way, but I didn’t mean to. I saw you in passing and kept seeing you, and then I got interested. Nice work, the way
you shook off the Runner Murchison sent after you. But I haven’t stuck to the main road. I met you by chance today. I’ve been on and off the road all the way down, asking questions of those who know answers. Your Rosalind is probably on her way to Plymouth. Or so I’d bet. And I’m on her trail. So go home. Or back to the baron’s, or to that governess of yours, if she even exists. Just go and leave this chase. All you can do is get hurt.”

“No,” she said. “I can find her, exonerate myself, and be free. I won’t work for her family again, but I will be able to find work elsewhere and get on with my life, and I won’t be able to do that if I just give up and go away, and wait on events. So,” she said, pulling herself upright, “I have a bargain for you.”

He stared.

She nodded. “Yes. I can be invaluable to you. I know one thing you don’t. I know what she looks like.” She sat back and looked at him triumphantly.

He smiled. “So you do. And so what? I have her description, and if she’s got a brain in her head, she doesn’t look like that anymore. I’m not just relying on her looks. I know other things about her, and her companion. Aye, I doubt she was abducted. It doesn’t look like she’s eager to give him the slip either, I’m told. Believe me, I’m on their trail.”

“But I can make your work easier,” she argued.

“Listen, my girl,” he said, shaking his head, “I understand your interest. But you can’t come with me. It’s a long road, maybe with danger ahead. Even if
there isn’t, I’ll be sleeping in wagons and barns, when I’m lucky, and under hedgerows when I’m not. There’s no room for a female in my plans.”

“But you must make room for me,” she insisted. “I can be of use to you. You’ll see.”

“Oh,” he said thoughtfully. “Well, it ain’t the first time I’ve misread a wench. So no wonder you didn’t fear those villains.” His smile grew wider. He took a step toward her. “I’m flattered. I’m also willing and able. All right. I’ll oblige you now, but I’m leaving at dawn. So, I’m sorry, but it will have to be a quick one.”

She stared.

He came closer, his smile becoming a leer. “On the bed? Or where you are? I’m adaptable, too.”

She shot to her feet. “I did not mean
that
!” she gasped.

He laughed. “Didn’t really think so. You’ve got prim written all over you and that ain’t my sort at all. But what other use would I have for a female on my journey?”

“I can help,” she said, ashamed to discover she was almost pleading. She gathered her wits, with effort. There he stood, implacable, untouchable: a man in a world of men, free to do exactly as he pleased. She had to face danger at every turn, and yet if she didn’t, she might have no future at all.

She steadied her voice and herself. “I may have made a mistake this evening,” she said. “But I’m not buffle-headed. There are some places where having
a female along may help you—places I can go where you can’t, questions I can ask that you may not.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But I don’t want a woman with me. Look, Miss Margaret, helpful as you are, and I’m sure you are, I’d find you more of an anchor than a sail. I have to travel light and fast. Women can’t. I like to change my direction with the wind, and not have to explain myself.”

“Not every wench you interview can be bought or charmed,” she said desperately. “Sometimes only a woman can get an answer from another female.” She hesitated, wondering how sensitive he was about being a gypsy and then dared to add, “That’s especially true if she’s respectable.”