Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three) (23 page)

As he finally reached the ground, he looked around for a
place to hide, as well as anything that could be used as a weapon.  He tried to
imagine what Vanessa would do in this situation, then saw what he needed, as he
slipped between two boulders.

Three-quarters of an hour later, Mortimer and Cassidy come
into view.  Mortimer had the Larsen slung over one shoulder and Vanessa’s
saddlebag over the other.  He was pushing Sir Lawrence along.  Cassidy was
pulling Vanessa’s arm.  Hidden by some rocks, he had to smile at Vanessa’s
slow, plodding steps.  She was dirty and had a cut above her left eye, which
Mortimer would pay for.  But she wasn’t cowed by the treatment, and he had to
bet she was actively plotting their escape.

Sir Lawrence on the other hand, was looking sullen.  His
prized boots by Hoby were covered with dust and no doubt scuffed beyond
repair.  His Weston jacket was ripped at the shoulder and the previously snow
white cravat was limp and the color of slate.  Arthur had to smile to himself,
despite the circumstances. 

Frederick Mortimer was looking around, using Sir Lawrence as
a shield.

“Where is he?” asked Portia.  “We would have seen his body
by now if he’d fallen, correct?”

 Arthur stepped out from behind the rocks, a dozen feet in
front of them.  “Release Vanessa and Sir Lawrence.”

Mortimer placed Sir Lawrence more firmly in front of him. 
“You’re just lucky we brought both, instead of one.”

“And you are lucky we did not shoot you on sight,” said
Arthur.

“We?” asked Mortimer skeptically.

“We,” reiterated Arthur.  “How do you think we were able to
obtain the spike in the first place?  As you’ve pointed out yourself, I am but
a lazy member of the aristocracy with nothing but money in my favor.  So, I
paid not only for the information on how to get the spike, but also for some
insurance once we hit the ground.”  It was the best bluff he could think of.

“Where are these helpers of yours?” asked Portia.  “Have
them show themselves.”

“Release Vanessa and Sir Lawrence and you shall get out of
here with your lives.”

“If you truly have these helpers as you claim, why would you
let us walk away?” asked Portia.

“Because I do not care to have to look behind me for the
rest of my life.  The two of you are nothing if not persistent.  If I cross you
now and you escape – which you’ve already demonstrated you’re quite capable of
– I do not doubt for a moment that you would be back with vengeance on your
mind.  Release the hostages, and I will give you the spike.”

“No,” said Portia, as she tightened her grip on Vanessa’s
arm.

“It’s a deal,” said Mortimer, who released Sir Lawrence with
a push.

“You won’t get the spike until you release Vanessa,” said
Arthur.

“Kellington,” said Mortimer, “you grow tiresome.  Bring me
the spike or your dear Vanessa dies.”

Arthur could tell the man would not give more until he got
what he wanted.  He climbed down from the rocks, holding the spike in front of
him.  He kept his eye on Mortimer, then stopped when he was but ten feet away.

“Release her and I’ll throw you the stake.”

Mortimer studied him for a minute then nodded to Portia. 
“Release her.”

“What?” asked Portia angrily.

“I want the spike,” said Mortimer.  “We already have the
sword and the chalice.  Killing three people will do nothing but slow us down
and bring more attention from the Home Office than we care to have.  Release
her.”

“You must be….”

“Now!” commanded Mortimer.

Given little choice, Portia shoved Vanessa away from her,
then Arthur tossed the spike to Mortimer.   As Vanessa quickly crossed to
Arthur, Mortimer put Vanessa’s saddlebag on the ground.   “For you, my dear. 
Consider it a remembrance of times past.”

With his pistol still trained on Arthur, Mortimer backed up,
then joined Portia.   “We had no choice but to take your horses, but I’m sure
you can walk your way out of here, eventually,” He gave a brief salute.  “Til
we meet again.”

Arthur hadn’t taken his eyes off Mortimer, but a movement
made him turn toward Portia.  He saw her raise a gun and take aim at Vanessa. 
The world seemed to slow as Arthur threw himself at Vanessa.  As the gun went
off, Sir Lawrence hit the ground to protect himself and Frederick Mortimer
knocked the weapon out of Portia’s hand.

As his senses returned to normal, Arthur looked up to see
Frederick Mortimer and Portia Cassidy riding away.  He realized he was lying on
top of Vanessa, and there was a high-pitched keening sound nearby.  “My God,
are you hurt?” he asked as he scrambled off her and began searching for signs
of injury.   It had been his worst nightmare come true. 

“I am fine,” she said.  “Are you all right?”  Her hands were
running over him, searching for a wound.  She looked as terrified as he felt. 
But it was becoming clear that neither of them was hurt.  They had both
miraculously survived. 

Yet, the keening sound continued.

They turned to see Sir Lawrence sitting on the ground,
holding his booted foot.  “That bitch shot me!” he said.

Arthur went to him and reached for his injured leg. 
“Actually, she shot at Vanessa.  You just happened to get in the way of the
ball.”

“You are not being helpful, Kellington,” complained Sir
Lawrence.  “The least you could do is bind my wound before I bleed to death.”

As Arthur gingerly examined the leg, Vanessa reached into
her saddlebag to find material for bandages.  She stopped her search for a
moment, her eyes riveted on something in the bag.

“What is it?” asked Arthur, who’d seen the odd movement out
of the corner of his eye.

“Nothing,” said Vanessa quickly, as she tore off a few
strips from the folded petticoat inside.

“This is most certainly not nothing,” said Sir Lawrence. 
“It hurts like the devil and surely I will bleed to death before you apply a
compress.”

“You won’t bleed to death,” said Arthur, as he finished his
examination.  “While I cannot be sure without removing your boot, the ball
appears to have only grazed your foot.  The leather seems to have taken the
worst of it.”

“Hoby will be so dismayed!” said Sir Lawrence of the famous
boot maker.

“I am sure he will recover,” said Arthur dryly.  “But we
will have to cut this off.”

“The foot?” asked Vanessa, horrified.

“No, the boot,” replied Arthur.

“Not the boot!” said Sir Lawrence.  “Simply pack it with
bandages.  We must see if we can salvage the boot once we reach civilization. 
However long that will take us.  This is all your fault, Kellington.  If you’d
simply climbed up the rope and given them the spike, they wouldn’t have shot
me.”

“But they surely would have cut Arthur’s rope,” said
Vanessa.  “You did the right thing, Arthur.  Although I dearly wish we hadn’t
had to give up the spike.”

“Hang the spike!” said Sir Lawrence.  “Kellington, do help
me up.  My trousers shall be ruined if I continue sitting in the dirt.  The
sooner we are out of this bleak place, the quicker we can see about saving
these boots."

Arthur helped Sir Lawrence to his feet.  As Sir Lawrence
leaned on him, they began taking their first steps out of the gorge.  Thankfully,
the wound was relatively minor, although one would never know it to hear the
man complain.  But Arthur gave little thought to Sir Lawrence, the loss of the
spike, chalice and sword or the fact that night was fast approaching and they
had no shelter.  All he could think about was that the shot meant for Vanessa
did not strike her.  He had kept her safe, just as he’d set out to do.

He was immeasurably relieved.  But immediately a new
question took hold.  What was he supposed to do now that the danger had passed? 
While he felt some obligation to help get the treasures back that he’d so
willingly surrendered, he also knew he was under no obligation to do so.  He
could go back to his life in London, knowing he’d risked his life for his
country.  He would be able to dine out for months on the tales of the past few
weeks.  And Vanessa had certainly stated often enough that she would prefer to
go on alone.

But for some reason, he couldn’t bear to think of her doing
so.  At the same time, there were dangers of a different sort if he stayed. 

He’d come to the rather reluctant conclusion that his
attraction to Vanessa was no longer just a physical one.  He admired her
courage and determination.  And she certainly had patience enough for a dozen
saints, if the way she calmly listened to Sir Lawrence’s constant complaints
was any indication.

But if he were truly honest with himself, there was more to
it than professional admiration.  He didn’t just admire her coolly.  He
admired
her.  He admired her in a way that made it unseemly to consider employing her
as his mistress.  She deserved more from life.  She deserved more from him. 
Somewhere out there was a worthy man – most assuredly not Sir Lawrence – who
would love her as she deserved, without the social barriers that were so
insurmountable between the two of them. 

“Blast!” said Sir Lawrence, as they tripped and almost fell. 
“Kellington, you must be more careful.  That rock you stumbled over very nearly
brought us all down.”

“Excuse me,” mumbled Arthur.  He had been distracted,
thinking about the man who could rightly claim Vanessa as his wife, then bed
her and father her children and do all the things Arthur would never have the
right to do.  But at least she would be safe.  And that’s what was really
important.   Was it not?

“Where shall we spend the night?” Vanessa asked, as she
looked around the area in the dim light of dusk.  “We should find some sort of
shelter.  I would hate Sir Lawrence to take a chill on top of his injury.”

“Yes,” said Arthur.  “I should hate that above all things. 
Let’s walk toward the woods.  Perhaps we can construct some sort of shelter
from fallen limbs.”

It was slow going, as Arthur and Vanessa helped Sir Lawrence
limp along.  Darkness was falling fast and Arthur despaired of finding adequate
shelter.   When daylight came, Arthur would venture out to the road and follow
it to the nearest village where he could rent a cart.

“I smell smoke,” said Vanessa.  “Possibly a campfire.”

Arthur smelled it as well.  That wasn’t necessarily a good
sign.  While he believed Mortimer and Cassidy were long gone, there were any
number of people who camped in the woods and not all of them were friendly.   The
three of them were unarmed, one of them could not walk on his own and Vanessa would
be a target with any group of men they encountered. 

“Stay here while I scout it out,” said Arthur.

“I’d really rather not,” said Sir Lawrence.  “My ankle is
throbbing like the devil and I should get off it.  Whoever is out there is sure
to offer us a fire to sit by, if nothing else.”

“Whoever’s out there might be dangerous,” said Arthur
through gritted teeth.

“I’m sure Mortimer and Cassidy are long gone,” said Sir
Lawrence, “and Nessa and I can certainly take care of anyone else.”

“Keep your voice down,” Arthur hissed at Sir Lawrence.  “The
two of you will stay here while I investigate.”

“I say, Kellington,” said Sir Lawrence even louder than a
moment before.  “You are being awfully high-handed.  You are not even an agent
of the Crown.  You are in no position to give either of us orders.”

Arthur was about to put himself in a position to hit Sir
Lawrence, when he realized they were not alone.  For the second time in his
life, he was facing a line of Gypsy men.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The nearby camp was similar to the one Arthur remembered
from so long ago.  The men who led them there said very little and they were
greeted with suspicion once they arrived.  Children ran by, looking at them
curiously.  Women kept close to their wagons, their
vardos
.  Men
followed at a distance, but kept a close watch on the three of them. 

“My friend is hurt,” said Arthur.  “Can anyone help him?”

A young woman took a few steps forward, but an older woman
held her back.  Arthur was beginning to think they’d have better luck going
back to the woods and continuing their search for shelter.   But then a little
girl with big brown eyes made her way through the ring of men and looked at the
newcomers.  She was about four or five years of age, with beautiful long black
hair.  And she was holding a doll almost as big as she was.

Arthur knew that doll.

At the same moment, the leader of the camp came forward and
put out his hand.  “Lord Arthur, it seems we meet again.”

Arthur shook Michun’s hand with relief and made the
introductions.  Michun hadn’t changed much over the years.  He was older, of
course, with a touch of gray in his hair.  But he was still strong, still a
leader of men.

“How is your mother?” asked Arthur.

“As good and as outspoken as she ever was, as you can see.”

“Welcome back, Lord Arthur,” said Sofia as she stepped
forward to take his hands.  She looked into his eyes for a moment as if to
study him, then without a word she looked over at Vanessa and faintly nodded. 
“You and your friends are just in time to take part in our evening meal.  Take
your young lady and find your way to the fire.  My son and I will tend to your
injured friend.”

Sir Lawrence began his protest, “I’m not sure you’re quite
the…”

Vanessa interrupted before he could fit one or both of his
feet into his mouth.  “Thank you very much, madam.  We are much obliged for
your hospitality.”

With a mysterious smile for Arthur, Sofia walked back
through the camp.  Sir Lawrence, aided by Michun, followed.

The camp was much as Arthur remembered it.  They walked by
carts filled with the wares the
Rom
sold in villages.  Now that Sofia
and Michun had in effect vouched for him, the people they passed were much
friendlier to the visitors who were so out of place.  There were several
members of the tribe who looked old enough to have been there on the terrible
day Sofia had been attacked.  Whether they remembered Arthur’s part in the
rescue or were simply being good hosts, the end result was the same.  Arthur
knew they’d be safe that night.  He would not have to worry about Vanessa.