Smuggler's Kiss (8 page)

It seemed an age before Will appeared behind the cottage. He came from a different direction, sliding unobtrusively around the tumbledown sheep pen that backed onto the hovel. When he saw me still crouching uncomfortably by the wall, manure drying on my bare feet, he grinned.

‘That was most unlucky,’ he said jerking his head in the direction of the strangers. ‘My, your ladyship, you look more elegant every time I see you.’

‘Go to hell,’ I swore at him. ‘You tipped me into a midden, and I’ll swear you did it on purpose,’ I said. ‘There was no need for me to hide.’

‘Oh, wasn’t there, though?’ said Will with a chuckle. ‘You should see yourself.’

I put my hand to my ragged hair, wondering if he was taunting me with that. ‘Not just your hair,’ he said shaking his head. ‘You’re part girl, part boy, and part ghost. Do you think a tale like that wouldn’t get about? The last thing we need! You need to wash. And we should do something about your hair.’

I’d completely forgotten what a sight I must look. The thought brought a blush to my cheeks and tears to my eyes. Last winter I’d been the toast of London society and in the summer I’d been the reigning beauty of Bath. Now I must look like a mixture of vagabond and clown.

We found a small stream that trickled down from a sheep-nibbled hillside, sparkling in the morning sunshine, and there I bathed the sticky mess of chalk and ash from my face and soaked the manure from my feet.

Will took my chin in his hand, scrutinizing my face. I pulled away resentfully. ‘I was just checking for you,’ he said. ‘There’s still … wait … ’ He dipped his right hand in the stream and scrubbed at my cheekbone. I turned away as soon as he was done. ‘Just trying to help,’ he said. I ignored him. ‘Spoiled beauty,’ Will taunted me.

I turned to face him. ‘Firstly, you’ve done nothing so far that convinces me you’ve any kindness in you,’ I told him fiercely. ‘I don’t need to be spoiled to consider you’ve treated me abominably from the start. And secondly, I don’t want you touching me in any way. You disgust me.’

Will grinned. ‘Of course I do,’ he said, in a voice that suggested he thought the opposite. I glared at him, and he smirked back. I longed to slap him, but that would be unladylike. ‘Put your stockings and shoes back on,’ he said at last, and turned away.

As I pulled the scratchy fabric over my blistered feet, I found my eyes blurring with tears. This was all so unfair. How had I fallen into such a nightmare? I followed Will without further complaint. We crossed fields and sheltered in a small wood for a time. I dozed off again and when I awoke, the brightness had faded from the sky.

‘Come on,’ Will said when he saw I was awake once more. ‘We’ve a long way to go yet.’

I got up, my body stiff and sore from the unaccustomed exercise and stretched. Will walked swiftly, while I kept up as best I could. We skirted settlements, kept to tracks across fields and among trees. He took routes that seemed to involve climbing hundreds of dry-stone walls. The rough stone scratched my hands, and my arms and shoulders ached. The ground was uneven and my boots rubbed my feet raw. Brambles clawed at me, and every muscle in my body cried out. In the end I was keeping going more by guess than anything else. I walked into gorse bushes several times. A pothole in the road caught me unawares; it caught my foot and twisted my ankle. I fell with a cry, tearing hands and knees on the rough ground.

Will halted ahead of me, looking back, waiting for me to get to my feet. When I didn’t, he turned back and crouched beside me. Tears of pain and exhaustion were starting in my eyes. Lacking a pocket handkerchief, I swiped them away with my sleeve.

‘It’s only a few minutes to the next stop,’ Will told me.

‘I can’t take another step,’ I told him weakly. He took hold of my arms and hauled me to my feet.

‘Oh, my ankle! Ouch!’ I cried as I tried to put it to the ground.

‘Best to walk on it straight away,’ said Will unfeelingly. ‘Resting it makes it worse. You can lean on me.’

He offered his arm, but I pushed it away. I hobbled along beside him, sniffing, feeling sorry for myself. It wasn’t long before we reached a farm. Dusk had fallen in earnest now, but Will clearly knew his way through the gloom. He led me along a rough path to a barn, where, after a quick glance around, he pulled me inside. It was a lofty building, stacked high with the autumn stocks of hay and straw. A sweet, dusty smell pervaded it, reminding me of the barns at home. I paused a moment to sniff, but Will pushed me on to a ladder.

‘Climb up,’ he ordered me.

‘Why?’

‘Just do as you’re asked for once.’

I didn’t suspect him of any amorous intent, so I climbed up. Once we reached the hayloft, I found I’d been quite right about Will. Far from attempting to embrace me, he dropped the sack, extracted a length of rope from it, grasped my wrists and bound them behind my back. I was too surprised to prevent him.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ I demanded indignantly.

‘Making sure you’re still here when I get back,’ Will replied.

I started to fight him. ‘Back from where? Don’t tie me!’ I begged him, struggling and wriggling, but the rope was already tight.

‘I have someone to see and your company would be highly inconvenient,’ Will said, pulling me across the loft so that my back was to a post. ‘In other words: none of your business.’ He swiftly looped the rope around the post and made it fast.

‘You’re a … 
scoundrel
!’ I cried, thinking of the worst word I could. ‘A blackguard! How
dare
you do this to me?’

‘It’s more a matter of not daring to leave you untied, dear heart,’ said Will with a grin. I aimed a kick at him which caught him on the ankle, but he just laughed. ‘I’m sorry, really I am. But I have no choice. I won’t be long.’

He turned and descended the ladder swiftly. ‘Don’t you dare leave me here!’ I yelled. ‘Don’t you
dare
! I’ll scream the place down! I’m warning you!’ When I got no response I began to yell: ‘Help! Help me! I’m tied up in the barn … HELP!’

Will’s face appeared at the top of the ladder again, his expression reproachful. For a moment I thought he’d relented, but, as usual, it was a mistake to think well of him. He pulled my bridal veil out of the sack, tore off a portion and stuffed it into my mouth.

‘Believe me, I regret this necessity,’ he said in a maddeningly calm voice. ‘But you brought it on yourself.’ He bound the gag in place with a strip of petticoat. I watched him in silent fury. The gag was horribly uncomfortable, and I needed to stay calm and breathe steadily through my nose if I didn’t want to choke.

‘See you soon, Isabelle!’ said Will and dropped a kiss on the end of my nose. ‘Be good and don’t wander off!’

I convulsed with anger but couldn’t reach to strike him. My rage, once Will had left me, knew no bounds. I fought vainly against my bonds, tensing and straining my whole body to free myself, but Will had done his job all too well. Hate-filled words buzzed in my mind, longing to be yelled out loud. I raged, I fought and then I wept. At last, exhausted from my anger and from having walked further than ever in my life before, I fell asleep.

I awoke suddenly in darkness with the feeling something had disturbed me. I retched and struggled before I remembered where I was. My neck ached and my throat was raw from the gag. I was sure I wasn’t alone. All the fears of the ghosts last night came flooding back. Chills ran over me. How could Will leave me alone like this?

As I sat, straining my ears to hear anything at all, a cold, ghostly finger stroked my cheek. My stomach clenched with fear, my body convulsed and I gave a muffled shriek that made me choke helplessly. In the middle of my terror, laughter reached my ears.
Laughter!
Will emerged from behind me, holding his sides. ‘This place is as haunted as that old house!’ he said. I rolled my eyes, desperate to be able to breathe properly. Will seemed to understand, for he loosened the gag at once, pulling the veil from my mouth. ‘Sorry, Sleeping Beauty,’ he said. ‘I simply couldn’t resist.’

I coughed; my throat too raw for the insults and reproaches I longed to heap on him. The moment he released the ropes at my wrists, I swung my numb left hand round and struck his face. It gave a satisfying slap and his head snapped to the right.

I braced myself and shut my eyes, expecting to feel a return blow but it didn’t come. When I opened them, Will was rubbing his cheek ruefully and staring at me.

I glared back angrily and then I forgot everything else as the pain of the blood flowing into my numbed hands flooded me.

‘Where did you go when you left me?’ I asked Will as we strode out into the night. ‘You were gone ages.’

‘You don’t need to know.’ His voice was maddeningly calm. He shifted the sack he was carrying to his other shoulder with a grunt. It seemed heavier and fuller than it had been earlier in the day.

‘I hate you,’ I told him with feeling.

‘So you keep telling me. I really don’t care.’

‘Where are we going now? Or is that secret too?’

‘We’re on our way to meet
The Invisible
.’

‘Where?’ I asked him. Getting information out of Will was like drawing a tooth: difficult and painful.

He shook his head at me. ‘Why?’ I demanded angrily. ‘Why does that need to be secret? For heaven’s sake, you are ridiculous!’

‘If we were to be captured or stopped by the king’s men,’ said Will, as though explaining something to a very stupid child, ‘do you really think I want you to be able to tell them where the ship is coming in to shore?’

I stomped along beside him. I was a prisoner. I had no say and no choice in anything. It was intolerable.

There were lights twinkling ahead in the darkness. I glanced at Will to see if he was going to avoid them, but to my surprise, he continued walking straight towards them. The dark shapes resolved into cottages, and I could tell from the stink drifting across to us that they were not well-to-do dwellings.

‘What is this place?’ I whispered.

‘These are quarry workers,’ he replied. ‘They work hard but they’re very poor. At the moment, times are so bad they can’t make enough to live. Many have been laid off altogether.’ At the edge of the waving shadow of light, he paused, stopped me by grasping my wrist and looked me over critically. He pulled my cap, which I’d pushed back, down lower over my face, then nodded. ‘You’ll do,’ he said. ‘As long as you don’t speak. Stay close to me.’ Then he stepped out of the darkness between the cottages.

The glow of light was emanating from a fire in the muddy space between the cottages. It was like a brick oven or some such thing, and, early in the morning though it was, a woman was bent over it tending it. As Will appeared, several small children in tattered rags and bare feet ran towards him shouting with excitement. He dropped the sack at his feet and crouched down to speak to them. I wondered why we’d come here.

Will was reaching into his sack and pulling out pieces of fruit: apples, an orange. A paper bag of raisins; a cone of biscuits. The children clamoured for them, sharp-eyed and hungry, hardly waiting until they had the food in their hands before they began to eat. Even so, a couple of the older children were making sure the youngest had their share in the scramble.

I noticed how pitifully thin many of them were. Their cheeks were hollow and shadowed with want. As Will handed out the food, he spoke a few words to each of the children and it seemed he knew them all.

Once the children had all had something from him, he walked from cottage to cottage, placing a loaf of bread or a wrapped square of cheese just inside each doorway. From some there was a nod of thanks or a word exchanged. From others a silence. From most, a stench of unwashed bodies, excrement, and mould.

Just before we left the village, a very young child limped up to me from out of the shadows and slipped a small, grimy hand into mine. I tried not to recoil at the sight of her ragged, filthy nails and at the smell of sickness. Her skin was grey, her hair lank. She smiled up at me. I looked into her eyes and was transfixed. They were huge and dark in her pale, thin face and had the look of one who had already seen the other side.

‘Jess,’ said Will with a smile. He crouched down where he stood. ‘I wonder if there’s anything left for you?’ he said. He delved into the sack once more, almost empty but for ropes and gown now, and pulled out an orange. He held it out and the girl let go of my hand and limped towards him. I saw her foot was malformed, and that there was an open sore upon her leg. I shuddered and drew back, wiping my hand on my breeches, hoping I hadn’t caught anything nasty. I was shaken by the sight of so much dirt and degradation. I wished Will hadn’t brought me here. The girl looked back at me again, and all such selfish thoughts were silenced by her clear, intelligent gaze.

‘Who’s this?’ she asked Will in a soft voice. It had the local twang, but it was musical. A slight blush crept into my face under her scrutiny.

‘He’s helping us with the trade,’ said Will, still crouched down to look the girl in the eyes. ‘So we can keep bringing you oranges.’ I didn’t contradict him.