A Rose in Winter (71 page)

"That's grand o' ye!" He chortled sneeringly and moved on into the parlor. As he poured himself a libation, he spoke over his shoulder. " 'Tis strange ye comin' here today."

Erienne followed him into the room and removed a rumpled shirt from a chair before perching on its edge. "Why is it strange?"

"The sheriff come ter see me."

"Oh?" It was her turn to use the single word in a questioning tone, and she waited to hear what that brigand was up to.

"Aye." Avery moved to stand beside the window and peered through it, speaking in a museful vein. "I had a long discussion with him. It seems Lord Talbot has grown displeased with me over some frivolous matter and has threatened to dismiss me." When no answer came from his daughter, he continued. "I sought some way to placate him, and thought perhaps if me and the sheriff were ter bring in yer lover and string him up before the townfolk, Lord Talbot might prove ter be in a more forgivin' mood."

Suspicous fear reared up like a sharp-fanged beast in Erienne's breast, and her sudden wariness was evident in her tone. "What have you done, Father?"

He casually strolled about the room until he stood between her and the hall. Seeming to settle himself in place, he lifted his thick shoulders in a careless shrug. "I told Allan Parker what I knew... about ye and yer lover, I mean."

"How could you?!" She came to her feet in outrage. "How could you so blithely betray your own kin?"

Avery snorted. "Ye're no kin o' mine, girl."

Her hand flew to her throat as a shocked gasp emitted from it. "What are you saying?"

He braced his short legs slightly apart and folded his arms across his chest. "Ye ain't no daughter o' mine. Ye're that Irishman's brat."

Erienne shook her head in disbelief. "Mother would never have played you false with another man."

The mayor jeered. "The seed was already growin' before I met yer ma. She had taken up with the bloke, married him against her family's wishes, and then hardly a fortnight later he was hanged. Yer ma would not wed me unless she told me the truth 'bout ye bein' there already growin' in her belly, but all these years I've wished I'd never known. 'Twas a sour thing ter swallow. All I could think o' was her in his arms." His upper lip curled back. "She never stopped lovin' him. I saw the way she'd look at ye, and ye bein' the very image o' him."

"If you met my mother after my father was hanged," Erienne inquired slowly, as if she found it hard to grasp what he said, "how could you have known—"

"What he looked like?" Avery finished for her. He laughed caustically. "Yer ma never knew it, but I was the one what gave the final orders ter hang the man." He shrugged beneath Erienne's stunned stare. "I didn't know yer ma at the time, but that wouldna've stopped me. The man was arrogant, claimed ter be some lord instead o' the bastard he was. I can still see him stridin' in front of the guards as if the thought o' dyin' was something ter be laughed at. Oh, he was a handsome one with his black hair and deep blue eyes. He was tall and lean-waisted, like yer lover. A man like me could never have taken a maid from his arms. All those years yer ma lived, she mourned after him. When ye were born, I saw the joy leap in her eye. Ye were his, all right, and none o' mine. Riordan O'Keefe, a man who has haunted me all these many years."

A frown furrowed Erienne's brow, then slowly faded as a rueful smile replaced it. "And you, Father? Nay, never that title again. Henceforth, I shall address you as anything but that." She reformed her statement. "And you, sir, have haunted me all these many years."

"Me?" Avery shook his head in confusion. "What do ye mean, girl?"

"You will probably never fully understand, but you have lifted a great burden from me. All these years I thought your blood was mine, and I am most relieved to find that false." She tucked the small purse back in her cloak and approached him, looking him squarely in the eye. "I give you a warning, Mayor. I shall not be as forgiving as my mother. If you pursue the hanging of Christopher Seton beyond this moment, I shall live to see you hanged and many with you."

Avery wondered at the spine of steel the twit had found. His own was pricked by little barbs of apprehension, for he was convinced that she meant every word she said.

"I will give you a bit of further advice in return for your tender care, sir," she stressed the last words sneeringly. "If you would avoid a hanging yourself, I bid you hold yourself a goodly distance from Sheriff Parker and his friends."

"And why, pray tell? Tell me," he bade derisively, taking high offense at her words. "Perhaps yer lordly Saxton has a comfortable position for an old man. After the whole tale is told, will he even listen to his wife? Why should I cast off me friends on the say o' an adulteress?"

Erienne's eyes glittered with a coldness that should have chilled him to the bone. "I have given you a warning. Do with it as you will. Allan Parker has no friends, and he may learn something new of ropes before all this has come to an end."

"And what will that be, Lady Saxton?" a new voice from behind her questioned. "Who will teach me more about ropes?"

She whirled on her heel, and her breath froze as Allan Parker moved with leisured stride into the room. A pair of his henchmen followed close on his heels. The kitchen door swung shut behind them, and the sound made her start. The cruel horror of the robbery she had witnessed came back to her, and the almost gentle smile on his face became a savage leer of evil. She spun about to flee, but Avery's arm shot out, and she was caught and held fast in his grasp. Her intended scream was cut short by the sheriff's hand clamped ruthlessly over her mouth.

One of the men snatched a cord from the drapery, and as Parker pulled a gag across her mouth against a possible outcry, the man bound her wrists firmly together in front of her. The sheriff shoved her down in a chair and jerked his thumb toward the door.

"Fleming, get rid of that coach and driver," he commanded tersely. "Send them home. Say that she's spending the day."

Avery's concern was rampant. The purse she had tucked away was uppermost in his mind, and he was loath to lose the possibility of others that could follow. "Ye wouldn't be hurtin' me 111' girl, now, would ye?"

"Of course not, Avery." Parker threw his arm across the other's shoulder and guided him toward the door as he explained, "But with bait like this, we could just catch us a Mr. Seton. That should put us on Talbot's good side, eh?"

Avery nodded eagerly in newfound wisdom and opened the door as the sheriff stepped out of sight. The mayor cleared his throat and called, "Ho there, Mr. Tanner."

The coachman looked around. "Aye, sir?"

"Ah... me daughter wants ter spend the day with me. She said ter take yerself on home."

Tanner and the footman exchanged uneasy glances, and frowning, the driver slowly approached the cottage. "Lord Saxton bade me to watch over his lady. I must await her return."

Avery waved him off with a loud guffaw. "Have no fear, laddie. She'll be safe enough with her own father." Avery gestured toward the inn. "Have yerself an ale or rum ter warm yer innards. Tell them ter put it on the mayor's account, and I'll send her ladyship home in the livery before dark. Now be off with ye."

Tanner was reluctant to leave, but there was not much point in further argument. Climbing to the driver's seat, he clucked the horses into motion, swinging them past the inn without a pause and urging them into a fast gallop when they cleared the indistinct outskirts of Mawbry.

Avery returned to the parlor and avoided Erienne's accusing glare as much as he could. Her face was flushed above the linen gag, and her eyes snapped with a promised vengeance.

Parker rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he stared down at his prisoner. "The Lady Saxton is, after all, the mistress of a known criminal and an adulteress. That should be enough reason to hold her captive, and in the meantime we'll spread the word for Seton's ears that she's taken. That will bring him in."

He motioned to one of the men. "You. Go to the livery and hire the carriage. Assure the driver that we will not need his services and will bring it back before nightfall." He counted out a few coins into the other's palm. "That should be enough to satisfy him." As the man departed, he admonished, "And try to get a decent horse for it."

Parker glanced at Erienne again. "Have no worry, my lady. You are as safe with me as in your own home." He chuckled briefly at the doubt visible in her eyes, and added, "At least until Lord Talbot returns from his business. Then I fear I'll have to leave you to your own resources."

A bristling glower was bestowed upon him before Erienne deemed to turn her face away, dismissing him as effectively as with her voice. She might be trapped and bound, but she was not dead yet, and she promised herself to give them whatever trouble she could.

A rattle of loose-jointed wheels announced the arrival of the rickety livery as the sheriff's man drew it to a halt in front of the cottage. After a glance out the window, Parker caught Erienne by the arm and lifted her from the chair. "Come, milady. I'll escort you to your carriage."

Avery interposed his bulk again. "Uhh, Parker, ahh. She had a purse." In a lame gesture he held out a hand and waited for it to be filled.

The sheriff stared at him as a laconic smile crept across his face. "You'd thieve from your very own daughter? Tsk-tsk. Avery, how could you? Here, take mine if you have a need." He fetched out his own much lighter one and dropped it in a greedy palm.

Avery frowned sharply as he hefted the purse. "I've got more comin' than a few shillin's. Why, his lordship owes me for the past two months and this one. And then there's me services of late." His eyes narrowed above a greedy snarl. "Aye, he owes me a lot more'n this."

"The purse should buy you rum for a few days." Parker shrugged. "You can discuss it with Lord Talbot when he returns. I'll see that a meeting is arranged." His smile broadened. "I suppose you know who will come when the Lady Saxton doesn't return this evening. Were I wearing your shoes, Avery, I would visit Wirkinton, or Carlisle, or some other place a good distance off."

The sheriff touched the brim of his hat in farewell, and adjusting Erienne's hood well forward to hide her face, he led her from the cottage. He was just stepping past the garden when she abandoned her meek guise and brought her heel down sharply on his booted toe. Before he could react with anything more than a grunt of pain, Erienne came around with her bound hands clenched together and struck hard at his throat, right where his Adam's apple protruded. Her assault jolted the breath from him, and he stumbled back with a hand clutching his throat as he choked and gasped for air.

Erienne's attempt to flee was abruptly curtailed by the man who had followed them from the cottage. Flinging long, thick-thewed arms about her and lifting her off her feet, he shoved her into the carriage. She fell upon the seat but was immediately clawing at the opposite door to get it open until the man reached in and dragged her back to the side nearer him. Erienne was not finished yet. She turned on the seat and thrashed out with her sharp heels, kicking him wherever she could until a broad fist thrust forward, catching her alongside the jaw and abruptly blotting out her world.

Still holding his throat, Parker glanced about and was relieved to find an absence of witnesses. He climbed into the interior of the carriage and taking a seat beside the crumpled form, began to lower the shades. As they departed, the second henchman mounted his own horse and, leading two other steeds behind, trailed the timeworn conveyance.

Avery slammed the door and made his way toward the kitchen, still hefting the purse. He had found a good rasher of salted pork in a crock, and the very thought of it made him drool in anticipation. There would be time enough to relieve his hunger before he had to set to flight.

His eyes widened and he came to a sudden halt as he realized the sheriff had taken the only available livery in town. "But how will I leave Mawbry when I have no mount?"

"Try walking."

The sneer came from the kitchen door, and Avery froze in fear as his gaze raised along the booted, tan-garbed figure who stood there. His knees began to tremble before he recognized his son.

"Farrell! 'Od's blood, lad! Ye nearly frightened me ter me grave." He tossed the purse and caught it. "Ye see this, lad? I've found a way ter turn our fortunes, and there's plenty more where this came from."

"I heard, Father." The sneer had not left Farrell's voice. "I saw the sheriff and his men skulking by this door, and I heard ... enough."

"Now, Farrell, me lad," Avery coaxed. "Our woes are over, but I have a need for your horse..."

"You sold her again." The younger man's tone was flat as he ignored his father's request. "And this time for a pittance."

"There'll be more, laddie. Much more!"

Farrell stared at him as a new light of knowledge began to dawn. "You really did cheat Seton at cards, didn't you?"

"Well, the man didn't need it." Avery's voice took on a whining note. "He had so much, and we had so little..."

"So you left me to a duel with no honor in it, and you didn't care about the outcome." He looked down at his stiff right arm. "A settlement with the Yankee was beyond your pride."

"I had no money ter pay the man off!"

"So you sold Erienne on the block!" Farrell's lips twisted in vivid repugnance. "It wrenches my belly to think that I took part in it."