Wings of the Morning (Kensington Chronicles) (36 page)

Haamich Wynn, and Smokey began to tremble as she had done

when she'd been locked in the cell.

She was still shaking when the guard led her to the open

area of the courtroom and held the foil for her hand Her heart

sank when she grasped the weapon. It felt as if it weighed a

hundred pounds.

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Smokey suddenly realized the room was deathly still. She

glanced up to find every eye in the court upon her, and she

hadn't even lifted her sword Brandon was in place opposite

her, and she met his eyes, ready to tell him she couldn't do it.

"Is that doubt I see in your eyes, Miss Simmons?"

From where the strength came, Smokey knew not, but her

chin lifted and so did her foil. Brandon cried "engarde," and

their foils met.

Occupants of the room barely breathed as they watched

Lord Hawkesbury's immediate attack. He came at Smokey

without mercy. She countered every move, years of training

overcoming her weakness. Judge Pinkerton came to his feet,

absentmindedly dragging the wig from his head as the opponents

danced around each other, both trying to gain the

advantage.

Using the move that had wiped the smile from Brandon's

face the first time they dueled, Smokey cut his coat. It was to be

her undoing. She couldn't recover, and in a merciless downward

stroke, Brandon flipped the foil right out of Smokey's

grasp. The move left Smokey's arm tingling from shoulder to

fingertips.

Smokey was so spent at that point that she couldn't move.

Only seconds passed before the room erupted in pandemonium.

Everyone seemed to be talking at once, and over the

pounding of the gavel, Haamich Wynn could be heard shouting.

"This proves nothing! You could see how easy he was with

her!"

Brandon turned to the man in fury, but the door burst

open and a commotion ensued from the rear. The occupants

of the room finally heeded the judge's call for silence as

Dallas Knight marched in. Wrists tied behind his back and

preceding Dallas at the point of his sword was Haamich Wynn,

scar and all.

Smokey stared at the man's face in shock. His eye was

blackened and his lip was bloody, but the resemblance to the

man already in the room was remarkable.

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Suddenly the first Haamich Wynn panicked. With no

warning whatsoever, he vaulted over the railing and grabbed

Smokey. With an arm around her throat in a choke hold, he

dragged her back toward the judge.

"I'll break her neck," he shouted in desperation, his eyes

wide with panic. Smokey clawed at the arm that was cutting

off her air, but it did no good

"Stay back or she's dead." He continued to back toward the

judge's podium. He was about to shout again when he stopped

dead in his tracks. The judge, his wig in place once again, was

holding the point of one foil in Wynn's ear. The impostor had

never noticed as Brandon set the foils up on the stand.

"Now release her," Pinkerton's voice was calm, "or the

entire room will watch what we do with pirates."

With the point pressed against his ear, the first Haamich

Wynn grudgingly released Smokey and stood frozen in place;

in fact everything seemed to freeze outside of Smokey, who

crawled to safety and stayed were she was as Brandon began

to speak.

"The man you see before you is not Haamich Wynn. This

man is Lawrence Lynne. The man in the rear, however, is Lord

Darrell Lynne, alias Haamich Wynn." The crowd began to

buzz, but Brandon continued.

"Darrell and Lawrence are cousins who have been robbing

us blind for nearly a year. When Darrell is in London, Lawrence

goes into seclusion. Only when Darrell is headed out to

sea does he contact his nearly identical cousin to cover for

him on the streets of London. The split is 50-50 from what I

understand, and with the success they've enjoyed, there have

been no plans to quit."

"Take them away," Judge Pinkerton said softly. "The case

against Victoria Simmons is dismissed." The room exploded

with noise and confusion.

The guards started toward Lawrence, but with a swift

move he leaped away from the judge's box and tried to run.

The guards fell on him.

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It seemed to Smokey that a fight was breaking out in every

corner of the room, forcing her to hold her position on the

floor. Just seconds passed before Brandon appeared before

her. As he reached to pull her to her feet, she saw the Judge

shouting to be heard above the fray.

"The press will be pitiless. Bring her out through my

chamber."

Brandon followed without question and began to move

Smokey forward Her head whipped back just before they left

the courtroom, hoping for a final glimpse of Dallas. Smokey

spotted him amid the commotion, struggling with a man on

either side. Then just moments later, before Smokey could

find her bearings, she was outside, lifted into a carriage, and

headed onto the streets of London.

"Where to, Smokey?" Brandon asked her from his place

across the coach.

'The docks," she said wearily, praying as she did that

Dallas would be all right.

"Are you sure? I know Dallas wants to see you. Sunny is at

our town house here in London."

Smokey nodded "I appreciate the offer, Brandon. I would

like to see Sunny and especially Dallas, but I need to get to the Aramis."

"As you wish," Brandon told her, seeing that she was

fading fast. He gave orders to his driver and settled back

against the squabs.

"Brandon," Smokey's voice came weakly from her seat.

Her senses were beginning to dull, but this had to be said "In

Klink Prison I had a cellmate. Her name is Aggie. I told her

about Christ," Smokey's head had fallen back against the seat,

but she forced the words from her mouth.

"Please check on her. I didn't even get to say goodbye.

Please go to her, pray with her. Please--"

"I'll take care of it," Brandon told her, and Smokey let her

eyes slide shut with a sigh. She wasn't aware of the way the

driver used back streets to avoid being followed or of Brandon

250

himself, who was determined to get her to her ship safely,

even if he had to lay down his own life.

They stopped 30 minutes later. Smokey had been sound

asleep for most of that time and was not aware that her ship

was finally in sight. Not until someone called her name did

she come out of the dream she had been having about sitting

at Willa's kitchen table.

"Smokey," the voice grew louder. When someone shook

her by the shoulder, she opened her eyes.

"Darsey?"

"It's me, lass."

"Is Willa here?"

"No, but if you come aboard theAramis, we can sail home

and see her."

"I can go home?" Smokey asked with childish wonder, just

before she began to sob. Her hands covered her face, and

amid her harsh weeping she was hardly aware of the way

Brandon lifted her from the carriage and tenderly handed her

to her first mate.

A crowd that included newsmongers who had been keeping

an eye on theAramis was swiftly converging upon them.

Smokey's crew was there to surround her and to take care of

anyone overly zealous for a story. In an effort to see them

safely up the gangplank, Brandon's own coachmen climbed

down and assisted in the fray.

With no time wasted, Darsey carried Smokey to her cabin.

He knew that Scully was already preparing a bath, but when

he got to the cabin, he saw it would have to wait. Smokey was

asleep once again. Darsey stayed below only long enough to

cover her with a blanket before going topside to cast off.

Lord Hawkesbury's coach was gone, and Darsey was glad

that he'd already said his thanks. They cast off, leaving the

docks teeming with frustrated journalists and spectators. By

nightfall, they were out at sea.

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Darsey held a cup of strong broth to Smokey's mouth, and

she drank greedily. Her hands came up to hold the mug, but

they were shaking so badly that Darsey did not relinquish his

hold. After just a few swallows, Smokey lay back as though the

effort was too much for her.

She had managed to bathe and even wash her hair. Darsey

had changed the sheets for her, since she had lain on them

before her bath and couldn't stand the thought of touching

them after she was clean. After washing she had put on a

nightgown and crawled into bed, ready to sleep for weeks, but

Darsey had other ideas.

"You've got to eat something."

"I'm too tired," she told him, but he ignored her.

"I'll help you," he said and did, holding the broth and

letting her take all she could. Then she was asleep again, and

this time Darsey allowed it. She hadn't taken much in, but

Darsey knew they were going to have to take things slowly.

Truly, "slow" would be the operative word where Smokey

was concerned. As long as he was in charge, they were in no

hurry. If it took weeks to gain their home port, then weeks it

would be. And if it took weeks for Smokey to tell him all she'd

been through, he would wait.

He found himself making these promises in his heart as

he gazed at her sleeping form. Like the last time they had been

separated, the tears poured down his face, tears for all the

pain she'd known, and tears of thanksgiving that God had

brought her back to him.

251

Q//^~Qfw

"iDiDN'TTHANKBRANDON/'SmokeytoIdDarseywhenthey

had been at sea for five days.

"He'll understand"

"Or Dallas," she went on.

"He'll understand"

"He didn't last time I left in such a hurry."

Darsey stared at his skipper. "This was nothing like last

time, mainly because this time Dallas knows that you love

him."

Smokey nodded from her place on the deck, desperately

wanting to believe Darsey's words.

She had barely been able to climb the stairs, but she was

sick to death of her cabin and insistent on going topside. She

was wrapped in a blanket against the wind, but the sun felt

wonderful on her face. The men had all come one at a time to

sit and visit with her, and she could see that although they

were a bit thinner, they were all right. Her heart overflowed

each time she looked at them and saw that they were safe and

well.

"Dars, can you tell Scully that I'm hungry?"

"Sure," Darsey forced himself to answer calmly and rose

slowly from his seat. What he wanted to do was shout and to

run for the galley as fast as his legs could carry him. She had

wanted so little to eat since they had set sail. And even though

her color was good, the skin of her face was still stretched