Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) (38 page)

His gaze shifted. “Eat your dinner, Allen.”

The boy, who had stopped with his spoon halfway to his mouth to listen, blushed and returned to wolfing down his food.

“Aye, and mind your own business! No one wants a big-eared bastard following them about.” Billy raised his hand to give the boy a cuff but Jack grasped his wrist, holding it easily while stabbing a sausage with his fork.

“Leave the lad be, Bill,” he said mildly. “You can speak in front of him. He knows what and when to keep quiet.”

Bill jerked his arm free and rubbed his wrist. “He’d better.”

“You’ve news then? Something better than country squires, school girls, or overfed parsons?”

Despite missing one eye, few men were better observers than Bill Wyse. Jack employed men like Bill as eyes and ears in every village from Huntingdon to York, and on more challenging adventures, he sometimes brought men like Ned.

“Aye. I’ve news. Rat-faced Perry wants a meeting.”

Henry Perry was the criminal equivalent of a local feudal overlord. Footpads, pickpockets, prostitutes, and thieves all paid him fealty and a percentage of their earnings. Some said his fingers reached as far as London and as deep as a magistrate’s pocket. He had no influence over his social superiors though, the free-willed gentleman of the road.

“Since when am I one of Henry Perry’s minions?”

Billy shrugged. “You pay me to bring you information. I bring it. He says you would find it worth your while.”

Jack snorted in disgust and downed the rest of his ale. What did a man like him need with more money? He had no family or property to maintain and was glad of it. A home was a trap, a family a burden, and a stationary man easily found and captured. He kept no mistress though he knew a few comely barmaids, and though he drank it was not as much as other men—and never enough that he failed to notice each exit and entrance or the lay of the land.

He had his freedom, a magnificent horse in Bess, and finely crafted weapons. He had plenty for gambling, clothes, and helping the occasional stray, and he could treat friends and acquaintances with food and drink. When he took to the road now it was purely for excitement. Something to stir the blood between endless rounds of cards.

His prey were the wealthy and privileged, or some exotic treat like the shipment of liquid gold malmsey marked for His Majesty he’d liberated two weeks past. It was a form of entertainment, though God knew it had lost its luster over time. Lately he’d been taking unnecessary risks, seeking the same thrill that had charged him in the early days.
Perhaps that’s why we all die young. We grow bored and careless.

“He said you might find it entertaining. He said there’s a wench involved.”

A gleam of interest sharpened Jack’s eyes. “A pretty one?”

Bill shrugged again. “According to you, aren’t they all?”

“I need you to deliver a package.” The rat-faced man was nibbling some fine Nottingham cheese, oblivious to the irony.

“
That
package?” Jack nodded toward a bound figure trembling in the corner, shrouded in an over-large cloak and held between two brutish thugs, both of whom he could smell from his comfortable seat by the fire. Or perhaps it was the cheese. He stabbed a piece with his dagger and held it to his nose experimentally, then popped it in his mouth. The old stone farmhouse chosen for their rendezvous was thirty miles from the nearest town and well off the road, and he had missed his supper. Curious, he shifted in his seat and craned his neck to get a better look. The shape was definitely female, but it was impossible to discern aught else. He wondered how she breathed.

“Why me, Henry?” he asked disinterestedly, though his curiosity was piqued. “Why not you, or one of your boys?”

“Because she’s a very
valuable
package, Jack,” the rat answered sourly. His nose twitched and his thin mustache quivered like long rat whiskers. Jack watched him with amused fascination.

“She’s of the gentry. She’s to be delivered to a puffed up lordling, and apparently only a gentleman can be entrusted with the task.” The figure in the corner stilled. Clearly, she was listening. “You were asked for specifically.”

“Was I?” That
was
a surprise. And there wasn’t much that surprised him anymore. “So
you…
are an errand boy then? Sent to petition my aid?”

“Have your fun, Jack. But I’m a useful friend and a determined enemy, and I’ve the kind of contacts a man like you might someday need.”

“You know nothing of a man like me, Henry. But I confess I’m intrigued. If I agree to help you with this matter, who would be ahh…accepting this package? And who would be paying me?”

“You don’t need to know the last unless you agree to the first. I will pay you one thousand pounds for taking her off my hands. His lordship declined to tell me why he wanted you, but doubtless he’ll pay you at least that much for delivering her, though that be between you and him.”

Every instinct warned Jack to get up and leave. Rat-faced Perry was not a man to trust, except to keep a threat. The woman was no concern of his and he’d be a fool to make her one. Even at his most reckless, when he embarked on any endeavor it was according to his own plan and not someone else’s. Mysterious commissions from unknown strangers were for desperate or foolhardy men.
Or the terminally curious. Many a fox has been caught that way. I wonder what she looks like.

“All right. I’ll do it. When, and how far?”

“Tonight. Twenty miles from here. A place called Hammond House. You’ll take my watch dogs with you, and you’ll be paid after the chit is delivered.”

“Don’t mistake
me
for one of your curs, Henry. Not when we’re becoming such good friends,” Jack chided. “You’ll pay me now. A note on the goldsmith in Newark will suffice. And you know I use my own men or else I work alone. If that doesn’t suit, then find someone else or do it yourself.”

~

Jack left shortly after sunset. The quarter moon cast a pallid light, barely enough to see by, but like any night creature his senses had long ago grown accustomed to the dark. A northerly breeze brought a bite to the air as it rustled through the trees, but the body slumped against his chest rested warm and silent in his arms. She’d made no attempt to struggle when they’d boosted her up in the saddle, and he would have thought her asleep if not for the rapid thrumming of her heart.

Curious as to his prize and somewhat concerned by her shallow breathing, Jack tightened his arm around her waist and tugged at the heavy hood, pulling it back off her head. A curtain of chestnut hair tumbled loose and her chest heaved as she gasped for breath. Underneath the hood, she was gagged and blindfolded.

Bloody hell, that seems rather excessive!
Did the fools want her delivered dead? What harm in making the wench a little more comfortable?

She began to thrash about and Bess reared up in protest.

“Don’t panic.” His voice was soothing and conversational, though his grip remained tight. “There is fresh air all around you. Breathe through your nose and you’ll be fine. You don’t have to take it all in at once. When you’ve calmed yourself, if you promise to behave, I’ll remove the gag and untie your hands. Now…I want you to listen. And match your breathing to my voice. One…breathe in and hold it. Yes…just like that. Two…slowly let it out. Good! Again. One…and two....”

Much to his surprise, she did exactly as he said, matching her breathing to his words. “You’re doing very well,” he soothed.

He’d half expected her to work herself into a faint, which might have made things easier, if much less entertaining. Her back was pressed against his chest, his mouth pressed close to her ear, and as they rode her bottom moved against his lap in interesting ways. He dropped the reins, guiding Bess with his legs, leaving both hands free. The way her wrists were bound behind her thrust proud breasts forward, tempting a fellow to reach around and slide his hands beneath her cape. There was nothing she could do to stop him if he did.

He rested his chin a moment against her shoulder, enjoying the scent of heather and wild roses and the luxuriant slide of silky hair against his cheek. “One wonders if you look near as sweet as you smell.”

She stiffened against him, her back growing rigid as his hands slid through and parted her waist-length hair. He eased it up and over her shoulders so it fell in a moonlit curtain past her breasts.

“Shh shhh shhhhh,” he whispered against the back of her neck. She trembled as his hands lingered, stroking the delicate skin just below her ear. “Alas, if things go as planned I shall never know how you look, and you shall never see what a handsome fellow I am.”

There was a soft nicking sound as he pulled his dagger from its sheath, and she started in fear.

“Easy, love. I’m just going to free your hands, but when I do, you are going to act like a lady and keep them folded nice and pretty in your lap. We are agreed?”

She hesitated a moment, then nodded her head.

He pressed his lips against her shoulder and wondered if her shudder was prompted by desire, cold, or fear. For all he knew she was one of Perry’s whores and the whole thing was an elaborate charade to please some jaded London lord with fantasies of rape and conquest.
Or perhaps she’s just some innocent who wandered too far from the herd.
Her clothing was modest and plain, though of fine material, and she wore a simple pearl necklace and earrings that might be appropriate for a young lady. But if she was that, why hadn’t they been stolen? Whoever she was, whatever he’d allowed himself to be drawn into, he hadn’t been as fascinated by a woman in a very long time, and he’d not even seen her face.

His blade was razor sharp and within seconds, he cut her free. She didn’t move her wrists and it took him a moment to realize they must be numb. She stiffened as he took them in his hands. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured against her hair. “I promise, I mean you no harm.”

Her skin was raw and swollen and her bones felt as fragile and delicate as a bird’s. He squeezed, massaging gently, helping the blood to flow, and then he eased her wrists apart and put his arms around her waist, placing her hands in her lap. “Soon your hands will burn as though stabbed by a thousand fiery needles. Keep massaging them and it will pass. I’m going to remove the gag now so you can breathe freely. Do you promise to behave?”

She nodded meekly.

His fingers began tugging carefully at the knot. Her hair was caught up in it and it was pulled so tight it had to be painful. He felt a stab of pity. The casual cruelty with which she’d been used disturbed him. What had started out as entertainment was now a burden and a dilemma.
This is a package I should never have opened
. But he could hardly abandon her on the side of the road, and there was still the mystery of who and what she was.

The knot slipped free and he stuffed the gag in his pocket. Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath and then she let out a truncated scream, choked off by a gloved hand wrapped tight about her throat.

“You promised.” He tsked his disapproval. “We’re deep in the woods, sweetheart. If you scream, there’s none to hear it, and if there were, they’d think you a night owl, a banshee, or something worse. There’s none who’ll brave the woods at night to come and save you.” His voice was calm, reasonable, but it held a distinct note of menace.

Her fingers scrabbled against his leather-clad fist and she wheezed for air as the black horse danced and snorted in alarm. He released his grip abruptly and she sucked in several deep breaths.

“You’re a bad girl. Or a stupid one. Which is it?” he inquired mildly as he calmed the mare.

“I am hungry. I am thirsty. I am frightened!” She didn’t sound frightened. She sounded accusatory and angry. She also sounded very young.

“Well… at least you’re not stupid, then. But
that
was very foolish. I promise you, whoever else roams these woods at night is not near as nice as I.” He reached for a flask tied to his saddle and held it to her lips. “Here. Drink.”

She gulped greedily, protesting when he pulled it away.

“That’s malmsey fit for a king, girl. It’s meant to be sipped slowly. Now try this.” He teased her lips with a buttery morsel. “Master Perry is a brutish oaf, but he knows his cheese.”

“The blindfold. Could you remove it, please?”

She had a very pleasing voice when she wasn’t shouting. It had a warm and mellow tone that made him think of fine brandy, rich and slightly smoky.
I wonder if she purrs when well contented.

“I don’t think that would be wise. It’s much better for both of us if you can’t see or identify me.”

“Do you intend to kill me?”

“Of course not! I have many vices, but killing young women is not among them.”

Her words tumbled out in a frenzied rush. “Please, then. You have to help me. The man you are taking me to is a vicious brute. If you deliver me to him, I fear I may never escape. I believe he was behind my kidnapping. He means to force me into marriage or worse.” She twisted sideways as if trying to see him through her blindfold. “I have money. I can pay you. I can pay you more than he will or the other man did,” she pleaded.

“I’m sorry, love. I’ve accepted a commission and have already accepted payment. A man must honor his word.”

Her voice was hoarse with contempt and tears. “A man of your word? A man of honor? You’re a man who delivers a helpless woman to one who would harm her, for pay!”

“Your romantic troubles are not of my making, girl. I’m just delivering a package,” he replied, stung.

“You
should
hide your face! You should be ashamed. You’re a base ignoble coward. You
mmmpgh
—”

He refastened the gag. Looser than it had been, but tight enough that all she could do was mutter and growl. He didn’t remove it again until she had growled herself out and fallen asleep in his arms.