The Highwayman's Lady (6 page)

It is the subject of Imogen that is most exercising Thomas’ mind as we stand back from the barrel, panting.

“So, who is she?” Concise and to the point, Thomas can generally be relied upon to go straight to the heart of the matter. “And what the fuck is she doing here?”

“Her name is Imogen Bennett. She requires a place to hide. I thought here would be a suitable choice.”

“She is an outlaw?” Thomas’ eyebrows disappear under his low cap. “Seth said you brought her into the yard bound and blindfolded.”

“Not bound, but I believed it prudent that she remain unaware of this place, or at least as unaware as I could make her. And no, not an outlaw. She is merely in need of protection and a safe refuge for a few days. I naturally thought of you.”

Thomas gives a disgruntled snort, then picks up a cloth and starts attacking his perfectly clean tables with it.

“How long?”

“Two days… three perhaps. She met with something of a misadventure last night and needs time to recover. Just bruises, but she is sore and—”

“Not you?”

I glare at him, incensed. “Of course, not me! God’s holy teeth, Tom, have you ever known me to raise my hand to a lass?”

“Aye, often enough.” He fixes me with a level stare, quite unintimidated by my indignant response.

I subside. He has a point, perhaps.

“Not in anger and never to a lass who did not desire it.” Thomas does not share my preference for rough bed sport, but he understands my idiosyncrasies well enough. And he knows I would never coerce a female into submitting to something she feared or preferred not to share. He is not wholly wrong, though, about my interest in the sweet Miss Bennett. Were the wench to prove amenable, I would delight in widening her sensual horizons a little. I doubt the opportunity will arise however, given her recent experience of male violence. What I would offer her is very different but in the circumstances, I could not fault her reluctance to experiment.

“How came she by these bruises then?”

Thomas’ curiosity is still not quite satisfied, so I spend the next twenty minutes recounting the events of yesterday evening and explaining the bargain Miss Bennett and I arrived at.

“So, she is to pay you a portion of her inheritance if you see her safe to her kinsfolk north of the border? Is that the sum of it?”

“More or less. Except I have no intention of taking the money.”

“Why help her then?”

I shrug. “I like her. And I find I dislike her stepbrother most heartily.”

“I see. Fair enough. So, I am to feed her and otherwise attend to her comfort, am I?”

“I will make it worth your while.”

“Now you insult me, my friend.”

I smile at him. I knew Thomas would not let me down. “I may leave her with you then?”

“Aye, the lass’ll not be disturbed. When will you be back for her?”

“Later today. I need to investigate the best route to convey Miss Bennett to Scotland.”

“Where do her family live?”

“I do not know. In my haste to fight off her assailant and bring her here undetected I neglected to discuss the finer details with her.”

“Leave that to me. I’ll take her up some food and we can have a nice chat. You go, do what you need to do. I will see you later.”

I nod and grasp his hand, then think better of it and throw my arm around his shoulder. “Thank you, my friend.”

Gray has been gone for perhaps thirty minutes. I spent the first portion of that time stretched out on the soft feather bed provided for my use. My ribs are tender still, but the pain is reduced to a dull ache and is almost gone if I do not move. Or breathe too hard. I suspect laughing would be a challenge, but I doubt the problem will arise. My jaw aches and I still fancy I can taste the blood in my mouth though that may be my imagination. All in all, I have escaped from my ordeal relatively unscathed, thanks mainly to the intervention of my mysterious highwayman.

I roll onto my side, then gingerly plant my feet on the floor. The fire is dying and I must toss an extra log onto the embers before it is too late to rekindle the flames. I make my way across the room, my limbs stiff, and crouch before the small blaze in the grate.

The sound of the key in the lock startles me, I almost overbalance as I turn to see who is entering.

“I apologise, Miss Bennett, I did not mean to frighten you. Here, let me attend to that.” I note a Scottish brogue not unlike Gray’s northern lilt.

The man entering is stocky, perhaps thirty or thirty-five years in age. He carries a tray upon which are balanced a bowl of something steaming, a hunk of French bread, and several other smaller pots. He sets his burden down on the small table against one wall and bends to hurl two more logs onto the fire.

“There, that should do for a while. I brought you some breakfast. Just porridge, but it’s hot and wholesome. And some bread. There’s honey too and a little damson preserve if you fancy that.” He turns to face me, his arms folded across his chest. The man might be intimidating but for the mischievous gleam in his green eyes. “I’m Thomas McIntyre, by the way. This is my inn.”

“Ah, yes. I am pleased to meet you, Mr… McIntyre. Gray mentioned you. He said you were his friend.”

My visitor casts a wry smile in my direction. “Did he? Well now, I suppose that might be one description. He told me a little about you too. I gather you find yourself needing to travel to Scotland with all possible haste.”

I make my way back over to the bed and perch on the end. “Yes, I have relatives there, close to Stirling.”

“Stirling?” Thomas’ eyebrows lift at that news. “I used to hail from those parts myself. What is your family name?”

“It is my mother’s cousin really. Beatrice. Her husband is the earl of Kirkleven so I imagine I should be able to find their home without too much trouble. If I can just reach Stirling I will be able to ask around.”

“Kirkleven? Aye, I know that estate.” His eyes narrow as though the name means more to him than he is disclosing. “Did you tell Gray the identity of your cousin?”

“My mother’s cousin,” I correct him. “But no, I do not believe that he asked.”

“I see. And are they expecting you there? At Kirkleven?”

I shift on the bed, uncomfortable at the prospect of descending unannounced at Kirkleven. Still, I have no choice.

“Hardly. I suspect my arrival will be something of a surprise, but I hope to secure the protection of my mother’s family until such time as I am of age and able to manage my own affairs. I shall be twenty-one in July of next year.”

“Not long to wait then. I understand it is Gray’s intention to secure you passage on a coach to Scotland whenever you are ready to continue on your way. As to your more immediate convenience, he mentioned that you might appreciate a bath?”

“I would, if that is not too much trouble, Mr. McIntyre. And, might I be able to purchase a spare gown, do you think? I have a few coins.” I show him the purse provided for me last night by Gray, before he left me to my fate. It occurs to me he may expect the money back now that we have arrived at a different arrangement but perhaps he will agree to add it to my debt. I probably should ask him before spending the money, but I would very much like to obtain a change of clothing now as I do not wish to present myself at my cousin’s fine home in a mud-spattered mourning dress.

“I doubt if Gray will thank us for bringing in a seamstress, but I will see what I might acquire. You may keep your coins for now and we can settle up later. I will have your bathwater brought up whilst you take your breakfast. I shall be back later for the tray, but if you require anything just knock on the floor.”

“Thank you, Mr. McIntyre. I do appreciate your hospitality, really I do.”

He offers me a smile, convivial enough and leaves to go about his business. I turn my attention to the food he brought and realise I am quite ravenous.

It has been almost twenty-four hours since I last ate and the day just passed has been a momentous and turbulent period for me. I could not stomach a bite at lunchtime yesterday, just before my mother’s funeral and since the ceremony I have either been incarcerated in the cellar or fighting for my life in a hired coach. Now, my stomach growls and grumbles and the aroma from the fare, plain though it is, sets my mouth watering. I pull up a chair and reach for the spoon.

* * *

I open my eyes. Something has disturbed me, woken me from a deep, restful sleep. I lean up on one elbow and shove my tangled curls out of my face. Dusk has fallen, though the light from a small lamp illuminates my room. Apart from the time I spent eating and luxuriating in a warm bath I have actually slept the entire day away. Footsteps on the staircase beyond my door, then on the corridor outside alert me to the likely return of my bandit rescuer. I sit up straight to watch the door as it opens.

Gray steps through, his mask in place though he no longer wears his cloak or his three-cornered hat. This is the first time I have been able to see him in the light and I find him a most impressive figure. His clothing is of fine quality: well-cut tan breeches, expertly tailored waistcoat in green brocade, and a fine coat to match with large, embroidered cuffs. He does not wear a wig, unlike many of the men in my usual circles. His hair is a distinctly pleasant shade of mid-brown with flashes of a lighter hue and is caught back into a queue at the nape of his neck. His eyes, clearly visible above the kerchief that conceals his mouth and nose, are a deep brown, the exact shade of the polished mahogany table that graced my mother’s dining room in York. He is taller than I remembered, broader too. He seems to fill the small room with his presence as he approaches the foot of my bed to scrutinise me.

“How are your bruises, madam?”

“Much better, thank you. The bath was most efficacious.” I wonder if it might be judicious to get out of bed. It seems most incongruous to conduct a conversation from here.

“Excellent. You have eaten?”

I opt to remain where I am, but ease myself up on top the pillows. “Yes, thank you. I had breakfast and a most enjoyable lunch too.” Thomas brought me a generous slice of venison pie with ale to wash it down. I managed to remain awake long enough to do it justice.

Gray seats himself on the bed beside me, seemingly not sharing my concerns at the impropriety of the situation. I remind myself that his profession calls for a certain degree of moral unpredictability, so perhaps I should not be surprised that he does not conform to the usual standards of behaviour. Given the somewhat unique circumstances in which I find myself perhaps I might not, either.

He tilts his head at me, still uncertain as to my health. “Do you feel ready to leave soon then? I have been busy on your behalf and have learnt that a stagecoach leaves Harrogate bound for Edinburgh tomorrow, at eight in the morning. I have reserved a seat for you and it is yours if you feel up to it.”

I beam at him. I could not be more impressed were the Archangel Gabriel to appear before me bathed in celestial light. “Really? So soon? I will be in Scotland by…”

“The day after tomorrow. You will have to make your own arrangements for the final stage of your journey. The money I gave you should suffice to hire a carriage but I will provide more funds if need be. Thomas tells me you owe him some of your coins already as you were in need of new clothing.”

“I hope that is acceptable. I would have asked you, but you were not here and I—”

“You are welcome. So, do you need me to replenish your coffers, Miss Bennett?”

I shake my head, emphatic. “No, I will be absolutely fine. You have been more than generous already, but I promise to recompense you as soon as I have control of my fortune.”

He shrugs, as though the matter is of little consequence to him. I must surmise that highway robbery is a lucrative trade and he finds himself able to spare the coins. He regards me, his eyes registering concern at the prospect of my onward journey. “Do you have far to go, after Edinburgh?”

“No, I do not think the distance too great though it is not a part of the country I have visited before and I am uncertain of the route.” Now it is my turn to shrug. “The earl of Kirkleven will no doubt be known in Edinburgh. I expect I shall have little difficulty finding directions to his estate.”

“Kirkleven? Did you say Kirkleven?” Gray appears shocked, his eyes widening at the mention of my relative by marriage.

“I did,” I reply, cautious now and keen to assure him I do indeed possess the necessary connections to secure my future. If I can but get to them. “Cousin Beatrice is wed to the earl. She is the countess of Kirkleven.”

“Your cousin Beatrice is the countess of Kirkleven. Are you sure?” He sounds quite incredulous.

“Of course, my mother told me so often enough. Her husband is Phillip, earl of Kirkleven. Do you have reason to doubt my account?”

“It is not that. It is just…” He hesitates, then seems to rally. “I had not expected you to move in such lofty circles, that is all.”

Now I start to make sense of his apparent consternation. He fears that I may betray him. “You are concerned I might divulge your whereabouts to the earl? I swear I will not. I give you my word. I will tell no one of your aid to me, nor even of your existence. If Sidney reports anything to the authorities I shall not bear out his account. I shall say I was not there.”

He regards me beneath his lowered eyebrows. I am unable to see his mouth but I suspect he is smiling. “Thank you, Miss Bennett; that is most reassuring. I do trust you but you are quite correct. The less you say of this whole escapade, the better I will like it.”

That settled, I return to the matter in hand. “What time should I need to leave here in the morning in order to catch the stagecoach? Is Harrogate close?”

“I shall come for you at six. Is that all right?”

“Of course, I shall be ready.”

“Very well. I will leave you now. Until the morning then.” He stands, executes a courtly bow and turns toward the door. I am overwhelmed by a sudden and irrepressible urge to entice him to stay here, with me. I have no wish to be alone.