Moonlight Lover (40 page)

"Answer something for me," Sin-Jin said as they entered the noisy establishment.

Duncan indicated a table in the corner. It suited his purpose to keep a wall at his back and his eyes on the door. "If I can," he said, sitting down.

"Why did you return that man's purse to him?" Sin-Jin gestured toward a barmaid. The woman, her face covered with a thick coat of face paint that made her more garish than attractive, hurried over. "Two ales," Sin-Jin ordered, glancing at Duncan.

The latter nodded his assent. Duncan shrugged carelessly in reply to the question. "He had the look of a grandfather about him. A poor one."

Sin-Jin leaned back in the chair, regarding the other man. He did have a conscience after all. "So you only rob from the rich?"

"Something like that." Duncan laughed. "Though that sounds far too noble for the likes of me. I'm not Robin Hood, you know."

The ales arrived and Duncan took a liberal drink from his tankard before leaning forward. He wrapped two hands around the tankard's base, then glanced up at Sin-Jin. His look was patient. "So, tell me your tale of woe."

As succinctly as he could, Sin-Jin gave Duncan a brief narrative of the events of the last month or so. He left nothing of import out, including Vanessa's nocturnal visit to his room.

Duncan listened to it all quietly without comment. His attention only wandered once when he nodded at a young, pretty barmaid as she passed. He gave her well-formed bottom a pat, then shifted his eyes to Sin-Jin once more.

When Sin-Jin was finally done with his story, Duncan said nothing for a long moment. He thoughtfully studied the inside of his tankard, which was almost empty, as if he expected to see something materialize there.

Impatient, Sin-Jin drew his chair forward, scrapping it along the scarred, uneven floor. "Well?" he asked.

Duncan raised his eyes to Sin-Jin's, waiting for the rest of the question.

He supposed it was a sign of his desperation that he expected Duncan to be able to tell him something that would help him in his search. Perhaps even make Rachel appear somewhere close by like a sorcerer conjuring up a woman out of vapor and air. He sighed heavily.

The emotion behind the sigh was not lost on Duncan. "So you believe that this Simeon has her?"

Sin-Jin had nothing else to go on. He spread his hands helplessly. "It's what Vanessa said."

Duncan's mouth quirked cynically. He had run into his share of Vanessas, lovely women with no souls and the sting of an asp. "And she, of course, is the soul of truth and virtue."

Sin-Jin looked at Duncan, annoyed. The man echoed the growing pessimism of his own thoughts. Each time he thought he knew the depth of Vanessa's depravity, he found that he was woefully underestimating her. Adulteress, kidnapper, there seemed to be no end to the blackness of her soul.

He was wasting his time here, Sin-Jin thought, anxious to resume searching. He threw down a shilling and began to rise. "I have nothing else to go on."

Duncan's hand clasped around Sin-Jin's wrist like iron cuffs, holding him in place. Sin-Jin was surprised at the strength he felt in the long, elegant fingers. "If she lied
about loving a man, she could easily lie about the way she
rid herself of her beloved's intended."

Sin-Jin's mouth twisted into a snarl, but he sat down again. "I am not her beloved."

The broad shoulders lifted and fell. "From what you tell me, I think Vanessa would beg to differ with that assessment." He beckoned the barmaid over, holding his tankard aloft. "But London is as good a place to begin as any in our search. We need to look into all alleys on this matter."

It was what he had initially hoped, but the actual offer surprised Sin-Jin. "You'll help me?"

Duncan raised his brow. Why else did Sin-Jin think he had accompanied him here? "Of course."

There was no money in it. At least, they hadn't spoken of any. Purity of spirit did not seem to be Duncan's calling, though he had seen him return the old man's purse. "Why?"

It seemed obvious to Duncan. He smiled as he accepted
a refreshed tankard from the barmaid, who giggled and retreated, seductively swaying her hips.

"I owe you. You spared me when you didn't have to." Duncan took a deep, long pull, then set the tankard down. "You could have just as easily run me through."

Sin-Jin shook his head. The laugh was mirthless. "And
taken my chances with your men? We were out
numbered three to one. And mine hardly knew one end of
a sword from the other."

Duncan smiled as he cradled the tankard in his hands. "A compassionate man and a wise one. A rare man, one not to be discarded." His eyes skimmed over Sin-Jin and his tone softened. "One to be regarded as a friend."

Moving the tankard to one side, Duncan put his hand out to Sin-Jin. Sin-Jin took it and a bond was formed.

Duncan's smile grew as his hand tightened around
Sin-Jin's. He was scarcely ever wrong in his estimation of
a man.

"What do we do first?"

In reply, Duncan took another drink of his ale. The tankard echoed as it hit the wooden table.

"There's very little that goes on in London that I don't hear, one way or another." He tossed back his head and drained the remainder of the tankard as Sin-Jin watched in fascination.

Finished, Duncan blew out a long, pungent breath. He was not drunk or anywhere close to that condition. Only revitalized. "To the business at hand," he announced,
rising. Sin-Jin was quick to join him as Duncan strode out
the door.

The latter threw his arm around Sin-Jin's shoulders as they walked down the street. "I have a fine network of friends," Duncan told him. "Someone must have heard or seen something that will lead us to fair Rachel."

Within a day's time, Duncan's network of privateers had led them to Simeon's father's door. The battered,
gnarled old man lived within the tavern that he swept out
nightly in exchange for a pallet in the storeroom and two meager meals a day.

Wary, distrustful, the old man at first refused to speak to them. Silver crossing his palm changed his mind. Slipping the coins into a pouch he wore on a chain inside his filthy shirt, the old man swore upon his late wife's grave that his son had not been to see him in over a
fortnight. As far as he knew, Simeon still lived at Shallot,
a faithful, enamored minion of the woman he served.

The path had come full circle.

"It would seem, then." Duncan said to Sin-Jin as they left the rodent infested storeroom, "That the lovely Vanessa has lied to you again."

Sin-Jin said nothing. He only prayed that Vanessa had not lied when she said that Rachel was still alive.

Chapter Forty-one

Rachel had no idea how much time had passed. She was exhausted, and weak from hunger. No one had been by to feed her or give her water to soothe her parched throat. No one had been by at all. Whether she had been left here for a matter of hours or days she had no way of reckoning.

She thought she fell asleep once from exhaustion. She remembered starting as she felt something biting her. With a scream that ricocheted silently in her brain, Rachel bucked and writhed and whatever it was had scurried away from her. From then on, she worked more frantically at her ropes. Perspiration, tears and blood had all mingled freely. She refused to stop. Couldn't stop. Fear hovered over her, goading her on.

Finally, the blood seeping from her wrists had wet the
ropes sufficiently enough to allow Rachel to loosen them.
Arms aching, muscles straining, she twisted the ropes apart far enough to yank the rest of her hand free.

Free!

Her hands were finally free.

Tears flowed, unheeded, down her face. With arms that trembled spasmodically, weakened by the position she had been forced to assume, Rachel raised her hands to drag off her blindfold.

Pain had her blinking furiously. Her eyes felt as if they had swollen shut. But it was only the darkness that made them feel that way.

As she concentrated, straining hard to focus, she discovered that she could detect shapes. Small, furtive, moving shapes. Rats. Rotting hay or straw was on the dirt floor beneath her. A thin sliver of light was coming from a crack in the walls high above her, letting her see.

Daylight.

Rachel could only guess that she was in some sort of dungeon or cave. But where? And why?

She removed her gag, spitting the filthy rag out. Coughing, she began to choke. A sickening heave within her stomach rose up to her mouth. Moments later, she was retching, sobbing.

No, no time for pity. She had to get free. It was all that mattered.

With stiffened fingers, she worked at the ropes around her bare feet.

Rachel realized that she was shaking again. She couldn't let the iciness claim her, the fear that had been eating away at her. The rodents would come for her if she stopped.

The single thought galvanized her and kept her from giving in to despair.

Her legs finally free of the ropes that bound them, Rachel tried to rise. They buckled beneath her and she fell.

"Stand, damn you stand,"
 
she ordered her limbs hoarsely. The sound of her own voice comforted Rachel and she tried again.

And again.

Until at long last, she gained her feet. Unsteadily, she
wavered and spread her hands before her, trying to touch
something solid.

Her fingers met only air. Dank, stagnant air.

Biting her lower lip, Rachel took a hesitant step forward, and then another. Her heart hammered in her breast, afraid of what she might find.

Perhaps she was in an underground cave. One misstep could have her plummeting over the edge into an abyss.

She stood still, trying to steady her legs. They felt like pudding, ready to betray her at any moment.

Slowly, listening for sounds, vainly attempting to still the drumming of her own heart, Rachel shuffled forward a painful inch at a time. Why was the wall so far away? Why couldn't she find it?

Her outstretched hands touched something damp. Cool. Solid.

The wall.

A stone wall. Rachel nearly wept for joy. Taking a deep
breath of the foul air, she braced herself to go on.
Patiently, though her nerves were shredded and screamed
for mercy, for rescue, she inched her hands along the wall, searching for a way out.

"Oh God, Sin-Jin, where are you?" she sobbed.

"He's not here," she answered the next moment,
digging for inner strength. "And you are. Now work with
that, Rachel O'Roarke. Or you'll be nothing but food for the rodents before long."

Softly, because it made her feel better, she began to sing to herself.

And all the while, her fingers worked along the walls. Searching.

Storming the front door would have given vent to his pent-up fury. And it was his right as earl to take
possession of the manor. But Sin-Jin had no desire to give
Vanessa the advantage of being prepared for him. He no longer knew what she was capable of and would take no further chances. Rachel's life could very well be at stake.

Since she had knowledge on her side, stealth was all that was available to them. Stealth and surprise.

There was an alternate means of entering the manor. Sin-Jin and Duncan entered the grounds by way of the woods that surrounded the rear of the estate. It took Sin-Jin several frustrating attempts to locate the entrance of the cave that ran underground more than two miles away from the manor. It fed directly into the lower cellar, which would lead them to the library.

After a moment's hesitation, Duncan followed Sin-Jin into a cave opening that was scarcely bigger than a full grown man and not much wider. It felt as if he were willingly venturing into a tomb. Duncan had always favored the light.

Inside the passageway widened to accommodate the two men traveling side by side. Duncan held his torch
aloft and looked about, leery of bats. "Nasty little piece of
work, this."

Memories returned to Sin-Jin like a page from a well-loved book. Time and again he had eluded his tutor by slipping out of the library and down these narrow passages. Burns had showed him the way in secret once many years ago. He doubted if any other member of his family knew of its existence. It had made him feel proud and special then to know about it.

Sin-Jin hurried through the dark corridor. A draft came from some unknown opening and the torch flamed higher. "My great-grandfather had it dug out in case he and his family had to flee from his enemies."

"His enemies," Duncan repeated, amused. "That being poor folk?"

He couldn't blame Duncan for his feelings about the rich. In the last two days, they had shared food, lodgings and sections of their past. Duncan's had been a hard life. Sin-Jin had known Duncan's father by reputation and the reputation had been an ugly one.

He spared the man a look now. "They were on the side of Mary, Queen of Scots. Not a popular stand in those days."

"Ah." Duncan nodded. "I'm well acquainted with stands that are not popular."

They traveled for a time in silence. The sound of water trickling from an underground stream in the distance was heard, making Duncan uneasy. He was relieved when the passageway widened even further.

When it did, Sin-Jin pointed his torch toward the side and squinted. There were two doors set in the walls, not five feet apart. If he didn't miss his guess, therewere cells beyond them.

It reminded Duncan of the prison where he had once languished, waiting for death to be meted out. Fortuitously, his men had rescued him before the hangman's noose could claim him.

Duncan indicated the cells to Sin-Jin with his torch. "Your great-grandfather have his own dungeons as well, did he?"

Something leaped within his chest as Sin-Jin approached the two cells. Hope? Fear? Surely Vanessa hadn't placed Rachel in one of the cells. The very idea was too heinous to consider.

"I don't know what he used those for," Sin-Jin replied honestly.