War of Hearts, A Historical Romance (15 page)

“What’s up?” Gabriel asked, in reference to
the surprise visit.

“I know about your plan, and I’ve agreed to
help.”

“Have you changed allegiance?”

“I never had any allegiance to the Brits,
only cash.”

“So what is more important than money?”
Gabriel asked with a knowing look.

“Miss Smith is very convincing.”

“Very?”

“Very,” Tristan reaffirmed with a slight
blush.

Gabe laughed heartily, “Well then, we have
lots of work to do.”

***

Sarah tethered Molly two shops down.
Covering her hair with a heavy scarf, she made her way to the
tavern. This street was run down, and her heart quickened as she
felt eyes upon her. She bravely opened the door and stepped inside.
The stench of body odor and stale smoke greeted her as she looked
around the room, trying to gain her bearings.

She received several looks from men before
making her way to the bar. She was surprised to find that the
bartender was a woman. The heavyset lady did not give her a second
glance as she leaned her arm on the sticky bar front.

“What’ll it be?”

“Actually, Ma’am, I’m looking for my
husband. He hasn’t been home in two days.” She wrung her hands in
worry.

“Just what you see, unless you want to check
the rooms above. They are rented by the night.”

She thanked the woman and with
determination, marched up the rather rickety stairway. She silently
noticed the room numbers and stared at one in the middle.
Hesitating for a second, she knocked. When she received no answer
she moved on to the next.

This time she got a reply; the door was
opened by a sleepy headed girl, even though it was in the
afternoon.

“Whatcha want?” she asked, surprised to see
the unfamiliar woman.

“I was looking for my husband.”

“He ain’t here,” she replied trying to close
the door.

“Do you mind if I look around?”

She shrugged as she made her way back to the
filthy bed and collapsed on top of it. Sarah took in the small room
consisting of a bed and trunk. She was drawn to the open window and
peeked out, gaging the distance to the ground below. ‘Perfect’ she
thought, turning and making her way back to the bar.

“Find him?”

“Not yet, but I will,” she added with
resolve as she swept out of the room and into the street.

She returned to the manor and hurried
upstairs to finalize her plan. Turning the corner in haste she
gasped as she ran into the Major full force. She was rewarded by a
small grunt as the air left his lungs. Recovering quickly, his arms
snaked around her, effectively holding her in place.

“Eager?” he whispered into her ear.

She let out an involuntary laugh.
You
have no idea
, she thought to herself as her mind thought of
escape plans.

Instead of answering, she grabbed his hair
and pulled his face down to hers. She met his lips with hers and
tried not to gag as he forced his tongue into her mouth. She
counted to ten in her head before trying to push him away. “Please,
not here…”

Randall growled in his throat as she turned
her head. “Why not?”

“Because, Tristan will know. Meet me
somewhere…tonight,” she whispered before leaving the stunned Major
alone in the hallway.

She escaped to her room and sunk to her
knees next to the wooden chest on the floor. Opening it with a
creek she dug to the bottom, pulling out an old powdered wig and a
rose-colored day dress. She found a drawstring bag and shoved the
wig inside, along with the knife. Putting on the dress she headed
downstairs to the library. She searched the desk for ink and paper.
Sitting down, she scribbled out a note for Randall giving
directions where to meet. Sealing it shut with wax, she wrote his
name on the front and slipped it into her pocket.

The dinner bell rang and she headed to take
her seat. She met Randall’s eyes across from the table and looked
away quickly as he met them. The Colonel was going over in great
detail the food that would be served for the ball and Sarah pushed
her food around on her plate. Her stomach was clenched with fear.
Her fork clattered against her plate as she went for a bite of
meat. Forcing herself to swallow, she wiped her mouth and took a
deep breath as she pushed away from the table.

“I’m sorry; I’m just not feeling well.
Please excuse me.” She stood and swept out of the room, swaying
just a bit as her hand went to her forehead. Concerned, Tristan
followed her. He did not want her toppling down the stairs in her
unsteady state.

She turned to stop him. “No, Tristan, I’m
fine. Just a silly headache, I just need some rest tonight,” she
pouted apologetically.

“I’ll check on you later.” She smiled her
thanks as he turned and headed back to the table.

She slowly ascended the stairs clinging to
wooden railing for support. She stopped outside of Randall’s door
and slipped the note underneath. Heading to her room she laid down
for some much needed sleep.

Tristan came in a short while later. Finding
her asleep he felt her forehead, thankful to find it cool. Slipping
her shoes off, he tucked her in under the covers and kissed her
cheek. Reluctantly he left, locking the door behind him.

***

Sarah awoke sometime later. She sat up with
a start, her heart pounding as she noticed the dark sky. What time
was it? Was she late? Hopping out of bed, she lit a candle and held
it to the clock on the mantle. Eight o’clock, she still had two
hours. Not trusting herself to drift off to sleep, she crept to the
door and listened for any sound in the hallway. Not hearing any,
she sat back on the bed and put her boots on.

Stopping by the washbasin, she peered into
the mirror above. In the dim light she studied her reflection.
Doubts about her plan flickered through her mind. Randall was a
bastard, but did he deserve to die? Did she deserve to kill
him?

He threatened Tristan; if she lost Tristan,
her attempts for rescuing the men would be fore not. Was saving his
life worth risking hundreds of others? No. Every day, more men died
from disease and sepsis. She had to save as many as she could no
matter how much the cost.

Leaning forward she grasped a kohl stick and
added a beauty mark to her cheek. Satisfied, she headed to the door
and opened it cautiously. The night was still. She locked her door
and headed down the back stairs, careful not to make a sound. At
the stable, she held her hand over Molly’s nose to prevent the
usual welcome neigh. The moon was full and afforded her some light
to saddle the mare.

Making sure the house was still silent, she
left the gate and headed on her way. Unbeknownst to her, dark eyes
watched her leave from an upper window.

Clutching her bag tightly to her, she
navigated down the darkened roads. Street lamps burned here and
there, but the darkness was her ally and she tried to avoid them.
She paused in her journey to wrangle the wig out of the pouch and
flopped it onto her head. She adjusted it by feel and hid her red
hair underneath. She thought wigs themselves were too much; her
head started to itch immediately and she hoped it was due to the
rough material holding it in place and not to some type of
infestation.

The world was so different at night; even
the air seemed different. Everyday objects cast ominous shadows
around her and her heart beat heavily in her chest as she pressed
on. Few people were on the street; the ones that were staggered
drunkenly.

The glow from the Tavern washed in front of
her, a beacon in the night guiding her way. It stood out boldly
against the other darkened shops. She tied Molly at the end of the
block next to the alley, walking the rest of the distance.

She was glad to see a man behind the bar;
men were much more gullible than women. The room was much more
crowded with soldiers and civilians alike.
A great place to
gather information
, she thought. Her memory flickered back to
the previous barman hanging from a tree;
perhaps not such a good
place.

She greeted the man and asked for a room.
His eyebrow rose with suspicion as he took in her clean attire.
“Are you alone?”

“Not for long.” She winked at him and took
the key. Ignoring the whistles and stares from the other men she
climbed the stairs and matched her key number to a door. Letting
herself in, she hid the knife under a pillow and opened the window
to let some fresh air into the stagnant room. It smelled of sweat,
whiskey, and old perfume. Taking a deep breath, she felt better
instantly. She still had an hour until their meeting time; an hour
to reflect back on her life and how the hell she ended up here.

It all came down to arrogant men, from the
British soldiers whom killed her family to the damn King himself.
It was as if she had no control over life, but tonight, she would
be in control. She would choose her destiny.

Restless, she headed out the door and down
to the bar for a drink. She ordered a Brandy. She wasn’t sure what
a brandy was, but that was what Tristan drank. Thinking of him, she
wondered if he would look for her tonight. If he raised alarm…

“Drink up,” the rough voice muttered,
splashing the drink down on the counter.

Lost in thought, she took a rather large sip
and choked as fire burned in her throat. The fire continued down to
her stomach, warming her insides. Taking a deep breath she took a
much smaller sip as the man chuckled at her. She sat facing the
doorway, keeping watch for Randall. She barely recognized him when
he appeared in civilian garb. He had a hat flung down low over his
face; however, she would recognize his cruel mouth anywhere. He
took a double look at her as he came closer. She smiled as
recognition set in and he joined her ordering a whiskey.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” she
whispered, taking another sip.

“I’m surprised you did. Of course you are
full of surprises,” he said, laying his hand on her thigh. She
covered it with her own and moved it higher.

“I have a room.”

“I’d like to see it.” He downed his drink
with one last gulp. Sarah left hers, already nauseous.

She guided him up the stairs, hoping they
would not collapse with both their weight. Releasing the lock, they
stepped in and closed the door behind them.

He immediately seized her and his hands and
mouth were everywhere. Grasping, nipping, and tearing.
Perhaps
this was not such a good idea
, she thought. She cried out as he
lifted her dress and ripped off her bloomers. This was ridiculous;
between him and Tristan she might as well walk around naked.

“Bed,” she gasped, hoping he would take the
hint. He did. Picking her up, he tossed her onto the filthy
mattress as he fumbled with his pants. Sarah panicked as he came
toward her; she reached under the pillow and pulled out the knife.
The moonlight glinted off the blade and she gasped when he grasped
her wrist trying to wrench it from her.

His other hand went for her throat and she
gasped for air as her free hand feebly tried to pull it loose. She
kicked out at him with her legs as she felt her breath leaving her.
She was barely aware as the room washed in light as the door opened
and closed quickly.

Her throat was released as she sucked in air
desperately, her oxygen-depleted mind trying to comprehend what was
happening. Two figures scuffled and she rolled away as her hand was
released. Still holding the knife she tried to make out the new
comer, but it was too dark. They fell onto the bed in a tangle of
limbs and Sarah was glad Randall appeared to be losing. As her eyes
adjusted to the darkness, she could see the rope wrapped around
Randall’s neck. His body jerked one last time as his soul returned
to hell.

Holding the knife in front of her, she
questioned her rescuer. “Who are you?”

“Shhh, it's okay, ma’am.”

“Ryan?” she questioned, recognizing his soft
voice. “What are you doing here?”

“My apologizes, ma’am. Randall left the note
behind in our room and I read it. I thought you might need some
help.”

“How did you know I was planning to kill
him?”

“Well, ma’am, I think there’s a long list.
I’m just happy I was able to help.”

Sarah, accepting his answer, set the knife
down as she slunk to the floor. Her throat ached and her wrist hurt
like the dickens. She moved it, testing out her range of
motion.

“Did he hurt you badly?”

“No, I’ll be fine. What do we do now?”

“Let’s hide him under the bed. Hopefully he
won’t be found for a couple of days.”

The two worked together to roll the large
man onto the floor. After much pushing and pulling, they found it
more feasible to just move the damn bed. So they did. They
straightened the room and left the door unlocked with the key on
the side table. Sarah put the knife back in her bag and wrapped it
around her wrist.

She motioned to the window for them to
escape and Ryan looked down hesitantly. Sarah climbed out first and
hanging from her fingertips, dropped silently to the ground
below.

She nodded encouragement to Ryan, whom
dropped down next to her. Helping him to his feet they walked arm
in arm to the alley. She had a million more questions for him, but
he shushed her.

“Not here.”

They arrived at the horses and Ryan led the
way, heading in the opposite direction she had come. Fear filled
her heart as they headed away from home. Another two blocks and
Ryan finally turned toward their destination.

“Just a small ruse in case any one notices
us,” he assured her.

“I still don’t understand why you helped
me,” Sarah replied, removing her wig and shoving it in her bag.

“The good Major was not comfortable with the
Colonel’s relationships. He threated to report it. The Colonel can
be very devious when pushed. He was aware of your mistreatment by
Randall and had me follow you.”