Myriah Fire (17 page)

Silkie’s shod hooves clopped along the deserted street and echoed loudly in the stillness. Myriah looked around warily as they passed stores and narrow, darkened alleyways on their path down to High Street.

She gave a sigh of relief as she came to High Street. She pulled out the crude map Dibbs had drawn for her. Yes, this was the way, and she continued down High Street towards the center of the village.

The sound of men at pleasure began teasing her ears, and Myriah again was assailed with doubt.

She looked into the narrow alleyway that led to the inn’s rear entrance and stableyard with hesitation. The alley was just wide enough for her and Silkie to pass. It was lined with two-story buildings, with only a few brightly lit windows giving off their light. The sounds of revelry, fuller now in its proximity, made her tense with fear, for she had never before gone into such a place and had never before even thought of going alone down such a path.

A man popped his head out of an open window just above her, and Myriah jumped, startled by the unexpectedness of the action. He laughed coarsely. “Fidgety lad, ain’t
ye?”

She ignored both the man and his taunt and continued to lead
her
horse up the sloped alleyway to where a large, square barnyard stood.

Hostlers came scurrying out of everywhere anxious to be of service, hoping to receive a sizable gratuity for their service. She gave Silkie’s reins into the hands of one of the boys and dropped a coin in his palm.

“Water him and hold him ready for me. I shall return shortly,” she said in a voice she felt was credibly masculine.

And as he was far more interested in the coin she gave him than in the huskiness of her voice, he scarcely glanced at her.

Myriah attempted a lad’s swagger as she stalked into the inn, passing through a rear small tavern room where several older men mildly glanced her way before she entered the long hallway.

She had not seen Kit in the small room, nor did she find him in the sitting room to her right. A quick glance out the hall window into the enclosed courtyard told her that he was not lurking about outside. She was worrying over the problem as she turned and walked into the belly of the substantially sized innkeeper.

“Eh, now, laddie—what be yer hurry? Ye look a bit young to go sauntering free as ye please into
my
ken.” The man wiping his hands on his white apron looked friendly enough.

“Oh,
if
you please … I am looking for Lord Wimborne,” Myriah said, hoping her voice would pass.

He eyed her a moment, thinking her a sickly looking lad. “Got business with ’is lordship, ’ave ye? Well now, why don’t ye give me yer name, and I’ll go inform ’im you be ’ere wanting a word with ’im.”

“Very well … tell him Master White needs him immediately.”

The innkeeper went off in the direction of the main tavern room at the end of the corridor and left “Master” White to pace the hall in what might have seemed to any observer a most frenzied fashion.

As it happened, Sir Roland, just as Tabby had thought and advised her, was not only in the area but had taken up residence at the Mermaid Inn, and he chose that moment to round the corner in the hallway and stop short some ten feet away from Myriah.

She nearly gasped out loud as she turned her face from him and moved into one of the tavern’s smaller rooms. All she could think was that Sir Roland was only a few feet away. What was she to do? What if he recognized her through her disguise?

And then she looked up and saw Kit in the far corner with Fletcher at his side, deep in conversation with another man. He looked up as though he felt her gaze, and their eyes locked. She saw at once that he became concerned for Billy, and as he took long, hard strides to her and held her by her shoulders, she squeaked out, “No! Billy will do … the doctor is with him … right now.”

“Then what the deuce are you doing here … like this?” he hissed.

“Dibbs … he came … needs you …”

Kit and Fletcher, who had sidled over in time to hear the last of this exchange, exchanged glances, and Fletcher said, “Oi’ll be getting the horses and meet ye in the courtyard.”

“Aye …” Kit said as he took Myriah’s hand and led her outside, heedless of what people might think to see him holding a boy’s hand as though it were a treasure.

Myriah was conscious of the trembling shivers his touch always made her experience, but out of the corner of her eye she saw something—someone else.
Sir Roland.

He had followed them outside, and now Sir Roland was looking at her black stallion … and Sir Roland had often seen her black to know …

She was undone!

* * *

Kit’s mind worked hard. What was Dibbs doing at Wimborne? He thought everything had been settled on his last trip to London. What had gone wrong? What could have brought Dibbs here in the dead of night?

Just before Myriah had appeared, he had asked the men that served him to wait on him for the final details
of
their next crossing, which would not be until the night after this, when the moon would be at its peak. They needed enough men ready to unload their cargo when they returned, and the timing was crucial.

And with all that to deal with … Myriah was still forever infiltrating his thoughts. By all that was holy, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He saw her face at every turn. She was a constant, a need that rubbed him raw.

She played around in his head, turning up when he least expected it, and now here she was in the flesh, dressed as a boy! Would she ever cease to amaze him? He wanted to lecture her, but damn, she had come through on this one.

Just who was this Myriah White?

* * *

Myriah’s thoughts were a jumble as she rode Silkie in a fast-paced trot in an effort to keep alongside Kit’s dark bay gelding.

She was in the suds. Sir Roland would inquire about who Kit was, and then he would know she was at Wimborne. Perhaps he would think she was on a lark … pretending to be a lad?

What was she going to do? If such was not enough to distract her, there was Kit, whom she loved with all her heart. His voice went through her, tickled feelings of need, and she wanted to tell him who she was … but she couldn’t. She wanted him first to declare himself, so she could be sure he loved her … not her wealth.

He was in trouble; she knew that much, but nothing more. Who was this odd man, Dibbs, and what had he to do with Kit? What was Kit doing at the Mermaid Inn? Who had been with him in the tavern? Why had Fletcher been with him? Absolutely no answers presented themselves to Myriah before they turned onto the drive that led to Wimborne’s front double doors.

Kit had not said a word to Myriah since his first questions, and except for a sideways glance every now and then, she had not been sure he cared whether or not she and Fletcher kept up the pace. However, he was off his horse and scooping her down from hers before she realized what he was about.

Surprised by his sudden attention, she eyed him shyly, unsure of herself and feeling unattractive in her boy’s attire.

He smiled and took her hand. “You look a veritable child. Why had I not seen that before?” he whispered softly before turning to Fletcher. “I am sorry, Fletch, to leave you to see to the horses on your own, but I must get Miss White indoors and meet with Dibbs.”

“Aye, that I will, though yah best be nobbut a moment, fer there’s no tellin’ how long thay’ll wait on us,” Fletcher grumbled.

“Don’t be such a woman, Fletcher!” His lordship laughed and took Myriah’s arm, leading her into the house.

“Wisht, wisht, that won’t hold!” returned his groom, walking all three horses away with a shake of his head.

Kit rushed up the stairs, pulling Myriah with him, and he looked as though he was in high spirits. She had no notion what had occurred to send him soaring but was heartily thankful that he was at least at peace with her.

When they reached Billy’s room, Myriah stopped suddenly and looked inquiringly into his face. “My lord, I believe you will want to be private with Mr. Dibbs, and
I
am sure
Billy
will want to be in on the conversation. Therefore, I shall retire to my room until such time as I am needed.”

He looked down into her face and smiled, and the glow she saw in his gray eyes set her heart racing. “Will you never, ever cease to surprise me, sweetings?”

She had no answer to this question and thought that this was the moment to retreat, which she did. Now Myriah was as curious as any female, and the questions that taunted her needed answers, yet she was often governed
by
instinct, and ’twas instinct that made her retreat suddenly.

She sat in the darkness and waited for a knock to sound on her door, smiling to herself. Finally, yes, finally, the high and mighty Viscount of Wimborne Towers was beginning to find her not so very hard to like! She had done him a service and had asked nothing in return, not even the chance of listening to their secrets.

The knock sounded at her door and she breathed a sigh of relief—finally.

She rushed across the blackness to stand looking up at Kit’s beloved face as he raised a brow, and she was struck by his larger-than-life quality. W
hen his voice came, she felt herself tremble.

“Why were you sitting in the darkness, Myriah?”

“What? Oh, it helps me to think at times.” Her voice was barely audible.

“And you have so much to think about?” inquired Kit, standing too close, and looking at her in a way that made it difficult for her to think at all.

“Faith! Can
you
ask such a thing? Here you are … a total mystery … and I
am
human. So, yes, I must admit to my curiosity—in fact, ’tis threatening to overcome me.”

He laughed good-naturedly and flicked her nose. “Thank you, Myriah, for everything … for the questions you don’t ask … and for what you did tonight, though, in truth, I never want you to try such a thing again. ’Tis too dangerous, and I don’t like you going about at night alone … but I do thank you. It was more than anyone else would do under the circumstances.”

“You have this lamentable habit of exaggerating, my lord,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t know what to
make
of you. One moment you think me some sort of monstrous female seducing young lads with bullet holes in their arms, and then, suddenly I am a heroine of stupendous qualities.” She giggled. “My dear sir … I am quite certain I did what anyone would do, given no other choice—and I
had
no other choice!”

“I see you must have a very peculiar notion of me indeed. But let it go for the present.” Kit said, taking both her hands, “Thank you, Myriah … I know what this must look like to you, and perhaps soon I will be able to explain.” He put her fingers to his lips and closed his eyes as he kissed them, and Myriah’s body went into overdrive.

“Come, Myriah,” he said softly, leading her across the hall.

They entered Billy’s room and were greeted with a sunny smile. “Never say you’ve brought
her
back in here, Kit! Hang it, man … why would you want to do that to me—didn’t I tell you she’s a devil? Even let my broth get cold, she did,” Billy accused with a wide grin.

“Odious brat—if you don’t have a care, I shall not make it up to you by bringing you another bowl.”

“She-devil … that is precisely what I have hoped for. If you don’t bring me some meat, Kit, she’ll be pushing that mush at me. What sort of a brother leaves his own flesh and blood to the dealings of such a female!” Master William protested amiably.

“Hold, hold, Billy—if I brought you meat, how the deuce would you slice it with your one bad arm?” offered his lordship grinning.

“Bring me the meat … I’ll find a way.”

“Oh, very well. If
you will eat that
…
perhaps I shall fetch it, and if you are very, very good perhaps I shall even slice it for you,” Myriah offered sweetly.

Myriah suddenly remembered Mr. Dibbs and looked about, asking in a tone of surprise, “Wherever is Mr. Dibbs?”