Smuggler's Glory (4 page)

The
woman stared at him, clearly trying to decide whether it was safe
to answer.

“
I need a place to stay overnight,” he persisted.

The
woman edged cautiously closer, glancing up and down the road
carefully. As she tugged her shawl tighter, Simon watched the grip
increase until the knuckles on her gnarled hands turned white. He
carefully leaned down as she edged closer.

“
If you have any sense you will turn that huge beast around and
get out of the village while you still can,” she whispered, her
hard eyes locked on his.

“
What’s wrong?” Simon asked, his own voice no louder than a
whisper. He wasn’t sure if the old woman was as nutty as a fruit
cake, but was happy to accommodate her strange behaviour as long as
she told him where he could spend the night.

“
It’s not safe for us villagers, let alone a stranger like
yourself. Please, you have to leave here, or you may not survive.
If you have any sense, you’ll go back the way you came.” She made a
furtive shooing motion with her hands, glancing around her
suspiciously before shoving her hands back under her thick woollen
shawl.

“
Survive what?” But Simon’s question met thin air as the old
woman coughed and stumbled backward, nodding to two old ladies as
they hurried past, their heads close together as they chatted while
they walked. Simon watched them pass, but as his gaze turned toward
the old woman, she was gone. Glancing up and down the road, he
could see no sign of her and shook his head at the foibles of
village life. His immediate thought was to dismiss the warning,
after all he was a stranger and she could have been trying to get
rid of him, but something warned him not to ignore it so
easily.

Determined not to be put off from his desire to secure a room
for the night, Simon turned Billie toward the opposite side of the
village from the church and went in search of the
tavern.

He found
it, but it wasn’t what he was expecting. As he turned into the
small courtyard, he suddenly had a new understanding of the old
woman’s cautionary words. There was definitely something going on
in the village of Much Hampton, and it was something dark and
sinister.

People
were everywhere, scurrying this way and that as if in a mad hurry
to get back to their homes. With so many people out and about, the
tavern should have been at the heart of it all, filled to the
rafters with revellers enjoying the opportunity to meet with the
village folk before going on their way. Instead the Bull and
Thistle, as the paint-worn sign declared, was barely habitable and
stood cold and empty.

“
Shit,” he snapped, twisting around in his saddle and staring
at the strangely empty road behind him with a frown. Where had
everyone gone? It was as though he had just imagined the busy
hustle and bustle of the main thoroughfare.

“
Hugo, you bastard, you should be here doing this,” Simon
growled, puffing out his cheeks as he studied the now deserted road
behind him. Curiosity drove him to nudge Billie back down the only
road running through the village and redouble his efforts to find
some other sign of life. His quest didn’t take long. Within minutes
he spotted a young boy skipping in an alleyway at the back of a row
of workers cottages, and quickly turned Billie in that direction.
He fought the urge to shout out a greeting to the young lad, lest
he scare him and cause the young mite to run away.

The
clip-clopping of Billie’s hooves on the cobbles drew the boy’s
attention and he stopped skipping and turned to stare. Simon wanted
to paste a bright smile on his face, but with the old woman’s words
of caution still ringing in his ears, couldn’t find it within him
to summon any sign of joviality. Instead he nodded amiably and
watched the boy carefully for any sign of fear.

“
Hello,” Simon said, slowly dismounting. His gaze flickered
from the boy to the house behind him. “Can you help me?”

The boy
stood and stared, making no move to answer.

“
I am looking for somewhere I can take a room for the night.”
It didn’t come as any surprise when the boy simply stood staring at
him for several moments, suspicion clearly written on his face. “Do
you think they will have a room for me?” Simon pointed to the door
of the tavern further down the road and began to wonder if the
youngster could speak at all, when the door to one of the houses
suddenly opened. The large woman who appeared in the doorway
glanced at Simon worriedly. He had no doubt she had seen him from
the inside of the house. He watched as she ushered the boy inside
out of the way, slamming the door behind them with more force than
was necessary. “I guess not,” Simon sighed, wondering if events
could get any stranger.

Not only
did he now have a growing list of questions that he needed to
answer, there were the original orders to take into consideration,
on top of where he could sleep for the night. With the size of the
village he was supposed to keep an eye on, he needed to be living
nearby and mingle with the locals enough to grasp some idea of who
the troublemakers were, and likely to be traitors to king and
country.

As he
slowly made his way back onto the main thoroughfare, he paused
again to consider his options. He could try the tavern and see if
it was still in use, but it looked cold and empty and for some
strange reason he had no inclination to stay there. Instead he
headed toward the church and the west of the village. He found the
doors to the church locked and barred to entry, and no sign of life
at the rectory. With a frown, he tugged his cloak higher and glared
balefully at the darkening clouds.

Mounting
Billie once more, he decided to make a wider circuit of the village
in search of somewhere he could stay. Although he didn’t hold out
much hope, and it looked like the tavern was going to be all that
was on offer

He had
no sooner gone a few yards when he became aware of the sound of
raucous laughter, accompanied by a woman’s squeal. The lewd
comments, accompanied by another round of laughing, didn’t sound
like anything enjoyable. Even from several feet away, Simon could
hear the woman’s pleas to be left alone, and the ribald taunts and
mockery that answered her cries.

For one
fleeting moment, Simon considered turning Billie around and
ignoring them. He knew from past experience that he couldn’t fight
every battle around him, but this was a woman who needed help.
Unless he was very much mistaken, a woman whose virtue was at risk
from two scoundrels, who were enjoying having the woman in deep
distress. Although he was certainly the last man anyone could
consider a knight in shining armour, his own conscience couldn’t
allow him to leave the woman to fend for herself and face the
consequences. After all, if he saved her, she would probably be
willing to tell him where in this God-forsaken place would be able
to provide him with a room for the night. Although he loved Billie,
he had no intention of bedding down with him for the night and at
that moment, it was looking like a distinct possibility.

Another
louder scream was enough to spur Simon into action. Shaking his
head at his own foolishness, he turned Billie toward the direction
of the noise. He didn’t have to go far before he found the source
of the screams. There, a few feet ahead, in the middle of the road
were two men tousling with a lone middle-aged woman.

The
large, burly man held her off the floor, while the man before her
was trying to capture her kicking legs. Together the men were
telling the woman just what they planned to do with her, clearly
finding her pleas and screams for mercy encouragement rather than a
deterrent.

The
soldier within Simon immediately rose to the surface.

“
Put her down,” Simon growled, glaring first at the burly man
holding the woman, and then the accomplice who had managed to grab
hold of one of her flailing legs.

The
smaller man turned slowly, a snarl of contempt on his face. “This
ain’t nothing to do with you, go away.”

“
Help me?” the woman gasped, “Please?”

Simon
didn’t look at her. A quick glance around them assured him that
there was nobody else lurking in the area. Dismounting Billie,
Simon stepped forward and straightened his shoulders, his voice
laced with contempt.

“
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“
Warn me about what?” the feral man laughed, glancing at his
accomplice. “Go to hell, this ain’t nothing to do with you. We have
some unfinished business with the woman here, so get lost. You can
have your turn after.”

The
woman gasped and began to struggle again, seemingly oblivious to
the brief flash of petticoats and bare leg beneath. The weasly man
jolted and jostled as he fought to hold the weight of her leg as it
kicked wildly.

Sensing
victory, Simon took advantage of the man’s brief lapse of
concentration. When he turned to snarl something at the woman,
Simon lunged into action. One well-placed fist landed at the same
time that the woman placed a well-aimed kick at the man’s
midsection. He dropped to his knees in time to receive a swift kick
to the bottom of his jaw. His head snapped back and he slumped to
the floor without a murmur.

Able to
put both feet on the floor at last, the woman began to writhe and
squirm against the cruel hold on her upper arms from the brute
behind.

“
Final warning,” Simon growled. “Are you going to let her go,
or go the same way as your friend here?”

“
Go to hell,” the burly man snarled. “This ain’t your
business.”

“
I’m afraid you have made it my business,” Simon snarled. “By
picking on a woman.” Simon paused as a thought flittered through
his mind, and he paused to stare at the woman.

Her eyes
met and held his for a brief moment.

“
Is either of these men your husband?” Simon hoped he hadn’t
just waded into to a marital argument.

“
God no, I am not that stupid to marry either of these oafs,”
she snorted.

“
Shut up, bitch,”

“
Go to hell,” the woman spat, her eyes shooting defiant sparks
at the man behind her.

Simon
almost smiled at her spirit, and nodded in sympathy. “Then if I
may?” He lunged forward, planting one fist in the man’s face at the
same time he dragged the beefy arm wrapped across the woman’s
shoulders free. Twisting it around, he heard the satisfying crunch
of bones seconds before they were accompanied by the agonised yowl
from the large man.

Suddenly
free, the woman fell forward and landed on the floor with a heavy
thump. Several swift blows later, the large man met his accomplice
on the ground.

Simon
studied them carefully for several moments before he was finally
assured that neither man would pose any more of a threat, before
turning to the woman.

At first
glance she was probably late forties, or early fifties. Her hair
was swept back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck and,
although they now sat straight, her round spectacles sat perched on
the gentle sweep of her nose that tipped up pertly at the end. But
it was her eyes that captured Simon’s attention.

Unusual
, was the word Simon would use
to describe them. They were the same colour as whisky; a warm
amber, with hints of dark mystery that swirled and collided
intriguingly. The more he studied her, the more his hackles warned
him that there was something definitely odd about the woman, only
he couldn’t quite decide what it was.

Francesca took a moment to collect herself under the guise of
brushing dust and dirt off her skirts. She had no idea who the
stranger was, but he had undoubtedly saved her from a fate worse
than death. Eyeing the unconscious bodies of her two attackers, she
edged sideways out of reach before reluctantly turning to the
stranger.

A shiver
of awareness swept through her as she studied him. Dressed entirely
in black, his height and sheer masculinity were unnerving to look
at; menacing almost. Her gaze drifted up, over the broad expanse of
chest to the sharp sweep of his jaw. She shivered as her eyes
reluctantly met his piercing blue gaze, and the curiosity he made
no attempt to hide. It made her tremble to realise that he had been
studying her just as carefully.

If she
was honest, she had seriously doubted her ability to get away from
the two thugs on the floor. They had overpowered her with sheer
bulk and she was only grateful they hadn’t managed to lift her
skirts.

“
Do you know who they are?” Simon asked, nudging one of the
attackers with the toe of his boot.

“
Charlie Wick and Tom Simpson,” Francesca replied
automatically, glaring down at them. “They live in the
village.”

Her
voice was cold and emotionless, but Simon could still hear the
slight tremor underlying the husky tones.

“
Thank you for coming to my rescue,” Francesca murmured when
the large man made no attempt at drawing any conversation out.
Still trembling with fright, she was at a loss as to how to take
her leave of him. She had thanked him, but was he waiting to be
paid? Did one pay a rescuer? If he was waiting for recompense, she
didn’t have much money on her at all, certainly not enough for him
to feel adequately compensated for his trouble. Besides which, what
was she to do about the two bodies lying on the floor? Did she just
leave them there to wake up in their own good time, or should she
go into town and fetch the doctor? But that would mean that she had
to implicate the man in an altercation, and she didn’t want to get
him into trouble now. Besides which, she wasn’t going to pay anyone
to come and look at the two men who had almost brought about her
ruination. The two men at her feet were undoubtedly the worst
trouble-makers the village had ever seen. Fresh out of Bodmin jail,
it had become apparent to the entire village pretty quickly that
they had left the dark recesses of the jail with more skills than
they went in with, and they weren’t the skills they could use in
any kind of worthwhile employment.