Lois Greiman (3 page)

“A bit of mendin’. Some sewin’. Nothin’ too fancy. But the folks on the other side pays good.”

“You live here?”

The answer seemed obvious and harmless enough. “Aye, sir. ’Ave for some months now.”

“Have you ever been to Larkscote?”

“Larkscote?” She liked to think she was not slow-witted. But she was having difficulty following his line of thought. But then, perhaps he was mad. Some were. Like old Willy down by the crossing. He’d take you in and give you a meal if you needed one, but you’d best be cautious cuz there was times he might mistake you for a wolf or some such beast and try to beat the living tar out of you. Life was unpredictable.

“How about Inglewood? Have you ever been there?”

She shook her head.

“Ever left the country?”

“Why are y’ asking me these things?”

“It’s a simple question, lass.”

And he was a strange fellow, and scary. Why was he here? How had he gotten in?

He took a step forward. She snapped her mind back into place.

“No,” she said, hoping the quick answer would keep him at bay. “No, I ain’t never left the isle.”

He was silent for a moment, watching her from beneath the brim of his weather-beaten hat. Candlelight flickered across his face, momentarily illuminating his lean cheeks and casting an orange glow to his shadowed eyes. It made her hair stand on end. Like the devil he looked. Like the devil come to make her pay for her sins. And she had a few of them. Mum had said it was sinful to take what wasn’t rightfully gained, but suicide was a sin, too. And trying to live without supplementing her income would be tantamount to suicide. She was only looking to take care of herself—the Lord’s temple. Speaking of which—a triangular iron lay near the door. It doubled as a pressing tool and a doorstop. If she struck him with it, might she have a chance to escape?

“Were you born here?”

She brought her attention back to his questions with a guilty start. “Born ’ere?” She made her accent very strong. For this moment she was Sparrow, a dowdy but good-hearted barmaid who didn’t ask much from life. She shrugged, adding to the act. “I don’t know ’xactly where I was born. Seems I always been ’ere.”

“You’ve never left the village?”

She considered lying. She had no aversion to fibbing now and again. In fact, she was quite certain a little judicious fabrication had saved her life on more than one occasion, for while she was not the magician some thought her to be, she had managed a few feats that kept her firmly planted somewhere between the pearly gates and hell’s fiery depths. But she had a strict rule about sticking to the truth whenever pos
sible. Lies were difficult. The truth was simple. Besides, he might ask around, and anyone would tell him, Fig included, that she hadn’t been in Somershire for more than a few months.

She grinned a little. “’Course I’ve left the village,” she said. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Where have you been?”

She shrugged again. “’Ere and there mostly.”

“Have you ever been to Portshaven?”

Curiosity dimmed as fear upped its power. Six months ago she had had a bit of a run-in with a viscount in Portshaven. He’d been drunk and arrogant, but she hadn’t meant him any harm. Not until he’d become pushy. Even then she hadn’t planned to rob him. But the good book said the Lord would provide, and when He did, it would sure be a sin not to take Him up on his generosity. Still, she’d been surprised at the amount of ready cash the gent had carried on his person. And the pocket watch had been a rare find. Gold-plated and smooth to the touch. It had brought a fair penny. Sometimes the Lord did better than other times. Right now He wasn’t doing so grand.

“Answer me,” he ordered.

She swallowed her fear, trying to peer up under his hat. “Who are y’?” she asked.

The ghost of a smile lifted his lips. “I’m a blacksmith,” he said, and took a full step toward her, arms outspread. “Can’t you tell?”

She rose to her feet, but there was barely room to stand, much less escape.

“Just like you’re a barmaid.”

They were inches apart.

“Listen, I don’t have no money if that’s what you’re after.”

“It is not.”

His words were flat in the shifting darkness and made her
blood run chill. There was nothing she liked better than the shine of coin, but when push came to shove it could be there were more important things. And she was trapped here. Trapped and alone with a man who didn’t appear to be easily duped or readily smitten. Not some foolish dandy with nothing better to do than find a likely bedmate, but a no-nonsense workingman with large hands and an attitude that suggested they had met before. An attitude that suggested he had come for revenge.

He took another step toward her. She sidled to the left. There was a knife behind her trunk, a butcher’s blade the length of her forearm. If she had her druthers, she would use wit before violence every time, but options seemed in short supply here. Still, the thought of using the knife gave her a pang somewhere between nausea and hope. There was also a walking stick inside the trunk and though it would be more difficult to reach, the idea of wielding it was not quite so horrifying.

“What is it y’ want then?” she asked.

He watched her carefully, breathlessly, as if she were naked before him, as if he could see into her very soul.

“I think I want you,” he said.

She shook her head slowly. Her limbs felt stiff and her chest tight. “I’m not what y’ think I am.”

Silence again, so deep she could hear her heart beat.

“I think you are a liar,” he said finally. “And a thief.”

“Lord help me.” The words escaped on their own. She shook her head more vehemently and sidled faster. Her fingers trembled against the wall behind her. “Just cuz…Just cuz I’m a barmaid don’t mean…” She was almost there. Almost to the trunk. She only had to bend and grab—and then stab him, of course. Her stomach twisted. “That don’t mean I’m easy. I…The rumors ain’t true. I—”

“Rumors,” he said and suddenly he laughed. His teeth
shone white in the candlelight. White and demonic. “You are a clever lass.”

She stared at him. His laughter sounded insane. But damn, he was bigger than Mad Willy, and so terribly close.

“Don’t you remember me, lass?”

She swallowed hard. “Listen, I don’t want no trouble ’ere. I’m a ’ard working girl, I am, and—”

But in that moment he swept off his hat. The world jerked to halt. She hadn’t thought she’d remember him so clearly. But suddenly she did, like it was yesterday, like it was a dream.

It was the viscount she’d robbed. It was the viscount, come for revenge.

N
icol watched the truth dawn on her face, watched her eyes widen. They were the same eyes he’d dreamt of for the past six months, the same eyes he’d obsessed about. He spread his arms slightly.

“It looks like
I
win,” he said.

“Win?” She looked as if she might faint. “Win what?”

“You’re a difficult woman to find,” he said.

She swallowed. Even in that high-necked gown, he could see her slim, pale throat convulse. God’s bones, that was the ugliest garment he had ever seen, he thought, and remembered how she had looked on that bright spring day—the spitting image of Anna. She would look that way again, but even more.

Right now she was as pale as a shade. He would have laughed again, but he could almost see the thoughts spinning in her head and waited in anticipatory silence.

“Find?” If her eyes got any wider, they would swallow her
face. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ’bout. Why would you want to find
me
?”

He smiled, willing to play her game, to let her fight the hook, to watch her wriggle. “Because you knocked me unconscious,” he said. “And stole my pocket watch.”

She shook her head wildly. Not a hair strayed out of place. What the devil had she done to it? It had been so beautiful, long and fair, gleaming in the springtime sun. Not that she would be able to keep it as it was anyway. But she couldn’t keep it like this either. No woman with any self-respect at all should keep her hair like
this
.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” she repeated. “You’ve mistook me for someone else. I told you, I’ve only been ’ere in Somershire for a few months.”

He gave her a nod for her performance. She was as quick as a whip, as sharp as a dagger. But then—so was he.

“It didn’t happen in Somershire, lass, as you very well know.”

“It…” She looked shocked and bewildered. Her hands were splayed out against the wall behind her. They were long-fingered and curled against the cracking plaster like a sparrow’s claws. She was too thin. But that should be easily remedied. “It didn’t ’appen a’tall,” she vowed. “Not with me.”

He ignored the lie, though it was executed with some panache. If he looked close, he might be able to believe there were tears in her eyes. “What did you do with my watch?”

“I don’t got no watch.”

“Did you sell it?”

She didn’t answer, and in the silence he glanced about him. She lived in a hole barely big enough for a dwarfed rat. “You were cheated, lass.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The watch was worth a good deal. Enough to afford you a better room.”

“I’m a good girl, Govner. I didn’t steal no watch. I swear it on—”

He raised a hand. “Don’t swear it, lass. Haven’t you heard that lying is a sin?”

“Of course I ’ave. I know all the commandments. I even got me a Bible.”

“Can you read?”

Something crossed her face. Some emotion he couldn’t quite phantom. “There ain’t much reason for a girl like me to read,” she said.

“So you don’t care to learn?” he asked.

Her eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second. “Like I says, there ain’t much purpose.”

He watched her for a moment, trying to decipher her thoughts, but there was little hope of that, so he plunged forward. Foolishly perhaps. “I have a proposition for you.”

“A what?”

“A deal. A business deal.”

She canted her head slightly. Her lips were pursed, but if there was one thing about her that hadn’t changed, it was those lips. They were the only reason he had sat for hours in the common room of the Lion’s Share. The only reason he had tolerated the inane conversation of the irritating gentlemen beside him. He had recognized those lips.

“I’m telling y’, mister, I ain’t the sort o’ girl y’ think I am.”

“Then you’re not interested in receiving three good meals a day as well as new clothes and an education?”

Her brows lowered into a scowl. She would have to learn to quit doing that. Anna rarely showed any sort of expression.

“Three meals a day?” she said, and he smiled.

“Yes.”

“Would I ’ave to kill anyone I’m fond of?”

“Not even anyone you loathe.”

“What would I ’ave to do then?”

He watched her again. Her face looked dull, but her eyes—“Come with me.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand. “I know it’ll be difficult for you to leave this charming place, but I’m afraid you’ll have to.”

“Why?”

“I can’t say just yet.” He didn’t dare tell her the truth. He hadn’t lost his mind completely—despite his current actions, which suggested evidence to the contrary. “You’ll come to my home,” he said.

“Yer ’ome.”

She sounded a bit disbelieving.

“Once there I will tutor you. If things go well, I will employ you for an undetermined amount of time.”

“Go well?”

“If she approves of you.”

She stiffened and pursed her lush lips. “I don’t ’old with none of that weird goings-on.”

He stared at her.

“I ain’t going to be no…” She flapped her hand wildly, her eyes wide. “No plaything for you and your missus. I may spend me nights servin’ drinks, but I got me morals same as—”

“God’s bones, girl, you’ve got a mind like a damned wagon spring. I never know where it’s going to hop next.”

She canted her head. “You’re not takin’ me ’ome to your wife?”

He almost had to laugh. “I don’t have a wife.”

“Then what do y’ want with me?”

“I want to teach you things.”

She opened her mouth to object, but he held up one palm.

“Manners,” he explained. “Etiquette.”

“I don’t need to learn no manners,” she said, and wiped the back of her hand across her nose.

“Of course,” he agreed. “She’ll be thrilled with you just as you are.”

“’Oo will be?”

He paused, thinking of Princess Tatiana Rocheneau, so alone, so aloof, so vulnerable. “She’s a great lady. That’s all you need to know for now.”

“What’s she got to do with me?”

“She will decide whether or not you have learned your lessons well enough.”

She frowned. “And if’n I ’aven’t?”

For a moment he remembered the headaches that had followed his first meeting with her. They’d lasted three days and had made him think his brain might just leap out of his skull like a trained circus monkey. As it turned out, he didn’t mind overly much if she fretted a little about her continued existence.

“Listen,” she said, and offered a tremulous smile. “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong. I ain’t who you think I is. Just let me go, and I won’t ’old no grudges.”

“You’ll be coming to Newburn with me.”

“I umm…” She cleared her throat and stared at him as if he’d lost a few playing cards from an already shabby deck. “That’s a right kind offer, sir. But I can’t—”

“You can keep the clothes.”

“What’s that?”

“The garments I purchase for you. They will be costly and there will be many of them. You may do with them as you will.”

“I could sell ’em?”

“If you wish.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And you don’t expect me to—”

He waited. She didn’t finish the thought. Neither did he. Instead, he merely watched her.

She cleared her throat with a scowl deep enough to drown a small pony. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

She was exasperated now, her plump lips pursed. “Don’t be expectin’ me to dong your bell, cuz I won’t.”

He couldn’t help laughing now. For the thought of this creature impersonating Princess Tatiana was suddenly the most absurd thing he could imagine. But he’d always appreciated the absurd. His life, for instance, but finally he sobered and subsequently realized she hadn’t joined in on the hilarity.

Her mouth was pursed and her back as straight as a royal guard’s. “I don’t like to be laughed at,” she said.

He sobered somewhat, but couldn’t quite conquer his grin. “Then you shouldn’t be so amusing. Come along now, lass; we’re leaving.”

For a moment he thought she might refuse, for her lips were still pursed and her eyes still narrowed, but finally she spoke. “You’ll give me clothes?”

“Yes.”

She shrugged, then, turning toward the nearby trunk, dropped her hands to the hasp. It opened rustily.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting me things.”

“You won’t be needing them. As I said, I’ll buy you new garments when we reach Sedonia.” A noise issued from upstairs, reminding him of his mission. “Come along,” he ordered, and took a step forward.

She shrugged, then jerked her arm forward and swung toward him. He heard the whoosh of the walking stick before he saw it, and ducked. It missed his head by a fraction of an inch. He felt it breeze through his hair.

There was no time to think. He barreled toward her, but she was as quick as a fox and twisted desperately away. Still, the room was tiny. There was nowhere to go. He caught her about the waist, wrapping her in his arms and thumping the air from her lungs.

She tried to scream, but he loosened one hand and slapped it over her mouth. She almost slipped from his grasp before he held her in both arms again.

“Listen,” he ordered, but she didn’t. Instead, she struggled madly. He shook her. “Listen to me! You owe me, lass, and you’ll pay me whether it’s at the gallows or at my manor.”

Her struggles slowed.

“I hear your Laird MacTavish is not altogether gentle when delivering justice,” he said.

Her movements ceased entirely.

“I see you’ve heard the same. I’m giving you a chance, lass, a chance to leave this isle alive and whole. Will you take it?”

For a moment he thought she wouldn’t answer, but finally she nodded once.

“Good.” He was still breathing hard. “I’m going to let go of you now, but I warn you, if you try again to damage me, justice will be swift.”

She said nothing, but shifted wild eyes toward him. He eased his hand off her mouth, then slipped his arm from around her ribs. But before she turned around, he grasped her arm.

“Come.”

“Wait.” She dragged back, her eyes insanely wide. “My clothes.”

“I don’t mind you being vicious,” he said, tugging her along. “But I won’t have you poorly dressed.”