Smuggler's Glory (21 page)

Simon
sighed deeply, knowing exactly what was coming. He gave Francesca’s
hand one last pat, warning her to stay beside the warmth of the
fire, and left. He was immediately drenched by the relentless
deluge that hammered down on him as he stalked across the stable
yard. Tonight, for about the first time since his arrival in Much
Hampton, he felt as though he was perfectly safe. There was no
sense of being watched. His instincts weren’t screaming at him to
keep his ears open and his path indirect. For tonight at least, the
damage had already been done.

Thanks
to Hugo’s contacts, he now knew enough about Madeline’s background
to know that the outcome had really been inevitable. A woman
couldn’t get involved with the kind of people she had been
associated with, without expecting at least some backlash. More
importantly, she couldn’t try to escape the brutality by simply
disappearing and expect not to be found. Unfortunately in
Madeline’s case, the backlash had been swift and brutal, and on
Francesca’s doorstep.

He shook
his head regretfully at the dark mound that lay at Archie’s feet.
He could see the hilt of the blade sticking out from her side even
through the darkness.

“
Several hours?”

Archie
nodded. “Professional job too, by the looks of it.”

“
Not surprising really, given what we know of her,” Simon
sighed, wondering why Madeline had felt the need to drag Francesca,
an innocent, into her problems the way she had. Although he could
understand her need to escape the ruthless clutches of a
cold-hearted mercenary, there were hundreds of places she could
have chosen to hide. North of the border perhaps? Or even abroad.
Why run to Francesca? Had she been sent there because of
Thistledown? He had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t mere
coincidence that had prompted Madeline to insist on accompanying
Francesca to Thistledown. Someone had forced her into going, and
that someone had ultimately taken her life. Had she failed in her
allotted task, whatever it was?

“
What do you want to do with her?” Archie asked, covering
Madeline’s body with her cloak.

“
We’ll place her in the barn for now. It’s abandoned but at
least it is dry. We can move her in the morning.”

“
Do you want me to go to Launceston to arrange a
removal?”

“
I think it is necessary. The fewer people who know about this,
the better.”

“
What about her?” Archie asked, nodding toward the
house.

Simon
shook his head and puffed out his cheeks. “She’ll be devastated,”
he replied sadly, staring down at Madeline. Given what he knew, he
didn’t regret her death. He deeply regretted the impact it was
going to have on Francesca and her future at Thistledown though.
“Grab her feet, I don’t know about you but I want to get warm and
dry right now. I’m sick of these cold winds.”

They
arrived at the kitchen door minutes later, sodden and solemn. Simon
knew by the look on Francesca’s face that she knew what he was
going to say. He could see no way of softening the news. How could
one break the news of a brutal murder by person or persons
unknown?

“
It’s Madeline, isn’t it?” Francesca whispered, her voice
trembling with barely suppressed emotion.

“
I’m afraid so.”

The
gravity in his voice stopped her from actually asking the question.
She didn’t need to ask and he didn’t need to say the words, for her
to know instinctively that her friend and companion was
dead.

“
How?”

“
Stabbed,” Simon replied, walking slowly toward her. “Beside
the well, I’m afraid.” He only half heard Bertie’s soft curse
behind him, but paid him no mind. His attention was firmly locked
on the woman before him.

Francesca felt her world wobble alarmingly for a moment and
her dreams begin to crumble at her feet. Tears dripped from her
eyelashes, but she couldn’t utter a word.

“
By the well?” she whispered, closing her eyes at the sight of
Simon’s single nod.

“
I’m sorry, Francesca,” he murmured gently, wishing he could
ease her pain.

Francesca swallowed the raw emotion that lodged itself in her
throat, and swiped a hand down her face, blinking rapidly against
the fresh flood of tears that immediately replaced the first, and
the second, and the third.

“
Well, I guess that’s that, then.” Strangely, she wasn’t
certain if she was crying because of the death of her friend, or
the lost of her life at Thistledown. “What do we do now?” She
glanced at Simon, wondering how one explained away a brutal murder
to the authorities.

“
I think that the fewer people who know about her death, the
better. I don’t want the locals getting wind of the fact that you
are here alone.” He hated to be so brutal but couldn’t see any way
around explaining what they had to do. “Before first light we are
going to take her away from here. Archie here will see to it that
she is laid to rest properly.”

“
I can’t be there?” Francesca gasped, horrified that her
friend’s burial would be so undignified.

“
I’m sorry, Francesca, but there is no way to hide a body long
enough to arrange the kind of funeral you want for her and we
cannot arrange a funeral without notifying the local constable and
that would raise a lot of questions that right now, we can’t
answer. As far as we know, Madeline didn’t have any other
relatives, so we have nobody who needs to be informed. It is best
for everyone right now, if this remains strictly between
us.”

“
But why? Where will you take her?” Tears began to flow faster
as her desperate gaze flew from one man to the other. Strangely,
nobody seemed able to meet her desperate gaze.

Bertie
moved to her side and placed a comforting hand on her arm. “Please,
my dear, don’t stress yourself so. You made her final days much
nicer than they might otherwise have been. She had this beautiful
house to live in, and spent many hours with you, which is where I
am sure she really wanted to be. Because of the dangers that face
us now, you need to accept that her burial has to be shrouded in
secrecy, for all of our sakes.”

Francesca took a deep breath and felt her stomach dip
sickeningly. She suddenly wished that when she had run outside, she
hadn’t bumped into Simon and had continued running, right out into
the moors and beyond. Somehow, she knew that despite her best
protests, she wouldn’t be able to stop the men carrying out the
removal of Madeline’s body and arranging her burial without her
knowledge. She wondered if there was some kind of law against it,
but these were men serving king and country.
She
would probably be committing a
crime by hampering them in carrying out their duties. Still, she
ached for the sad loss of her companion. Lifting sad eyes to Simon,
she felt the desperate need to be by herself. The house didn’t seem
so threatening now, she thought blankly.

“
Where are you going?” Simon frowned at her when she began to
walk toward the hallway door. He wondered if she should be left
alone at all. The strange remoteness about her was alarming, and he
didn’t like it one bit. Wondering if he should fetch a doctor to
give her a sedative or something, he watched her leave.

“
Just give her time,” Bertie said softly. “It’s a shock to us
all. Although I didn’t know Madeline all that well,” he said,
“well, she downright hated me as you know, nobody deserves to meet
their end in such a brutal way.”

“
Where do you want her to be buried?” Archie asked.
“Launceston?”

“
Yeah, it’s close enough to here so that when this is all over,
Francesca can visit her grave if she wants to,” Simon replied
quietly. It felt as though a heavy weight had settled in his chest
and it was an altogether unfamiliar feeling that didn’t sit well on
him. Rubbing absently at his chest, he sat down at the table and
motioned for everyone to join him. It was time they discussed who
was going to do what to bring this investigation to an end,
preferably before Francesca was the next victim.

It was
late by the time Bertie and Archie took to their beds. Pie had
offered to take first watch, followed by Archie and then Simon at
first light. They had immediately refused Bertie’s offer of taking
his share of the watch, warning him that they were a well-oiled
machine, used to such practices, and would be more efficient if
they were left to get on with it. The relief on Bertie’s face
wasn’t unnoticed but his offer had gone a long way toward earning
the respect of the latest arrivals.

Simon
paused on the threshold of his bedroom and stared blankly at the
empty bed. He should take his clothes off, climb between the sheets
and get whatever sleep he could, while he could. But a deeper, more
protective side of him wouldn’t let him rest so easily. Not until
he had seen for himself that she really was alright.

Walking
quietly down the corridor, he eased open Francesca’s door moments
later, shaking his head at her for forgetting to lock it. He
frowned at the empty bed. A surge of fear began to build, and he
quickly began to search the upper floor, including Madeline’s room.
Panic grew to alarming proportions by the time he burst into the
kitchen, to find Pie quietly closing the sitting room
door.

“
In here,” he whispered quietly, nodding toward the closed
door. “Appeared like a ghost a few minutes ago, sat on the chaise
and passed out.”

Simon
eased the door open, his heart lurching at the heartbreaking sight
of her curled up in a tight ball before the roaring fire. Even from
the doorway he could see the gentle glint of tears on her too pale
cheeks. She looked so alone, so miserable that he couldn’t stand to
leave her like it.

“
You going to carry her up?” Pie whispered, watching Simon
squat down before her and study her closely.

She was
oblivious to the blunt fingertip that gently stroked the tears
away.

Shaking
his head silently, he rose to his feet and sat in the chair beside
the fire. “I’ll stay here for the night.”

Pie
studied his friend’s face for several minutes before turning his
attention to the woman fast asleep between them. He had never seen
this softer side of Simon and wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
Although he felt fairly certain their relationship wasn’t of an
intimate nature – yet, he was fairly certain that they cared deeply
for each other. Only Simon was the very last person Pie had ever
thought willing, much less able to fall hard for a
woman.

Francesca was beautiful admittedly, but certainly not the
most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her blonde hair was darker
than most, giving it an usual tint that looked almost brown and
although she was slender, she was almost too thin, giving her an
ethereal look that warned she could break if you were too rough
with her. She was a stark contrast to Simon’s tall, dark and
distinctly masculine appearance.

Still,
her presence in Simon’s life brought about something in him that
was enlightening, and Pie wasn’t entirely sure it was a bad thing.
As long as Simon kept his mind on the real reason he had been sent
to Much Hampton and didn’t focus too much on Francesca’s problems,
Pie didn’t have a problem with her.

Shaking
his head at the folly of the lovelorn, he quietly left the
room.

“
Francesca?”

Francesca grumbled and tried to push the hand that was
shaking her off her shoulder.

“
Darling, come on, wake up.”

“
Go away, Simon,” she grumbled, rolling over and willing sleep
to return. For some reason she didn’t want to face the new day. A
frown began to creep across her brow, only to steel her breath when
the memories of the night before came flooding back.

Her eyes
sprang open and she found herself staring directly into Simon’s
direct blue gaze that was only inches away.

Simon
sat carefully on the edge of the bed, tentatively drawing her hand
into the warmth of his.

Francesca immediately felt her stomach dip and knew she
wasn’t going to like what he was going to say. She wanted to cover
her ears and tell him to stop; she didn’t want to hear it, but
something kept her quiet. She knew she would hear it at some point
throughout the forthcoming arduous day, so she may as well get it
over and done with.

“
It’s not even dawn yet,” she sighed, glancing toward the
window. Sometime during the night someone, Simon she suspected, had
carried her to her bed and tucked her in. Although she was still
wearing the clothes she had worn yesterday, she was safely
ensconced in her own room. Strangely, she had no fear of being
there and had no unwanted memories of strange men intruding on her
private space.

“
Madeline is ready to go,” Simon began, bracing himself for
more of Francesca’s tears. “I wondered if you wanted to say goodbye
before she went.” He had carefully removed the blade embedded in
her side, and covered her over to prevent Francesca from seeing too
much of the gruesome detail. Although he had prevented her from
attending the funeral, he wasn’t harsh enough to forbid her from
bidding her friend a final goodbye.