Nowhere Near Respectable (2 page)

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Authors: Mary Jo Putney

BOOK: Nowhere Near Respectable
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Chapter 2
A good thing Kiri had her anger to keep her warm, she thought acidly, or she’d be shivering. The late October night fell quickly as the sky clouded up, and the temperature dropped like a stone. Though Chieftain was a splendid mount, progress was slow because the ground was muddy from several days of rain. The track she was following north to Dover twisted up and down through the rugged hills, which slowed her even more.
But Dover was only a few miles farther. She couldn’t miss it as long as she followed this track, which paralleled the coast. She would spend the night in an inn—a nice, warm inn—and take a coach back to London in the morning. It would be interesting to ride a public coach instead of a luxurious private carriage. She liked new experiences, even if they were likely to be uncomfortable.
The track descended a hill in a narrow cut that was barely wide enough for a horse and rider. A good thing she was in relatively safe England rather than India, where bands of dacoits might lie in wait.
She was contemplating a roaring fireplace when she rounded a bend and found herself face-to-face with a pack train of heavily laden ponies heading upland. What the devil . . . ? It took a moment for Kiri to sort out the jumble of rough-looking men, ponies, and tightly shielded lanterns.
Smugglers!
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she tried to pull Chieftain around so they could escape, but the free traders had also recovered from their surprise. “Get ’im!” a sharp voice bellowed. “Can’t let a stranger see us!”
A smuggler lunged at Kiri. She slashed her riding crop across his face while applying her heels to Chieftain. But more men grabbed her and the track was so narrow the horse couldn’t turn quickly. She kicked two men away, slashed others with her whip, but before she could win free, the sharp voice shouted, “Jed, use yer bird net!”
A weighted, malodorous net flew through the air and dropped over her, entangling arms and legs. As she struggled to free herself, her assailants dragged her from her horse. She slammed to the ground with bruising force and exploded into furious Hindi curses.
A redheaded trader grabbed her and exclaimed, “Jesus, it’s a bloody woman!”
“Wearing trousers and riding astride?” another said skeptically.
“I know a tit when I feel one!”
A lean man with a long, morose face approached and knelt beside Kiri. Her hat had come off, and in the narrow beam of a lantern, her face was clearly visible. “ ’Tis a woman, right enough,” he said in the leader’s voice. “Or rather a girl. She was babbling in some foreign language. Do you speak English, gal?”
“Better than you do!” She tried to knee him in the groin but was too trapped by the net to manage it.
“In those trousers, Captain Hawk, she’s mebbe a whore,” a smuggler remarked.
“I’m no whore!” Kiri cursed them again, this time in English and using the filthiest language a little girl could learn in an army cantonment.
“Mebbe not be a whore, but she sure ain’t no lady,” a man said rather admiringly.
“Gag and blindfold her,” Hawk said tersely. “Then tie her up and toss her over her saddle. Howard, Jed, take her down to the cave and make sure she don’t get away. Mac the Knife is coming tonight, so make him welcome if he arrives before we get back. We’ll figure out what to do with ’er then.”
“I already know what to do to her, Captain,” a man said with a lewd chuckle.
“We’ll have none of that,” Hawk said as he admired Chieftain. “This horse is worth a pretty penny, so the girl might be valuable, too.”
“We need to be careful,” the heavyset man warned. “If her people are too important, asking for ransom might bring a troop of soldiers out here looking for us. Safer to roger her, then toss her off a boat with a few rocks for weight.”
Kiri stiffened. If they learned she was sister to a duke, they might be so afraid of consequences they’d kill her out of hand. She unobtrusively used her right thumb to turn her ring so the diamonds were underneath and only a plain band showed on top. “I’m neither rich nor important, so no need to murder me.”
“You talk like money.” The captain’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your name?”
She thought quickly for a name close to her own. “Carrie Ford.”
“Some Fords over in Deal,” a man volunteered. “She don’t look like one of ’em.”
Stick to the truth when possible. She said, “I’m from London, not Deal.”
“Where did you get your fancy horse?” Hawk asked.
Her mouth twisted. “I stole him to get away from a man who lied to me.” Which had the advantage of being true.
The smugglers laughed. “Sounds like she’s our kind of woman,” one said.
“Could be she’s lying.” Hawk scowled. “We’ll figure that out later. For now, truss ’er up and don’t damage her. We need to be moving.”
Despite Kiri’s furious struggles, the smugglers were able to peel the net off her upper body and tie her wrists with a length of thin, hard line. She wanted to scream with frustration because she couldn’t free herself to fight properly. She should have been carrying a knife, but she had wanted to be genteel for the wretched Norland house party.
Howard, the heavyset man, tried to gag her with a filthy square of cloth. “You swine!” she snarled before biting his fingers.
“Bitch!” He slapped her cheek and tied the gag painfully tight, but she had the satisfaction of seeing that she’d drawn blood.
After her bite, the free traders handled her with wary efficiency. Jed, the wiry redhead, blindfolded her. Trussed like a goose, she was draped over Chieftain’s saddle and tied to the horse.
It was a gut-wrenchingly uncomfortable way to travel, especially since she could see nothing. Using her hearing and other senses, she knew that she was being taken downward on a path so narrow that sometimes her feet brushed a rough stone wall.
Kiri was perilously close to throwing up before the horse halted and she was untied and pulled from the saddle. She staggered, but a hard hand caught her elbow. “Since there’s nothing for her to see but rock,” Jed’s voice said, “I’m taking off the blindfold so she can walk down on her own.”
Even though it was night, having the blindfold taken off gave her some sense of her surroundings and cleared her head. They stood in a sheltered pocket surrounded by boulders on all sides. One end was fenced off for a crude paddock that held a couple of ponies munching on a mound of hay.
Looking wary, Jed tried to remove Chieftain’s saddle, and got nipped for his efforts. Rubbing at the rapidly forming bruise on his forearm, he growled, “Then you can just stay in your tack and be uncomfortable, horse.”
Chieftain entered the paddock willingly since hay awaited. He was a fine animal, so Kiri hoped one of the other runners knew how to care for horses. Not that she blamed Jed for being afraid. Chieftain was a large, high-spirited aristocrat among horses, and he obviously had little patience with peasants.
Jed took her arm and led the way to a path hidden between two boulders. Unable to use her hands, she might have fallen if he hadn’t kept hold of her. No chance of escape with Howard just behind them.
The path flattened out to a ledge that led to the narrow entrance of a sea cave. A path split from the ledge down to a sliver of shingle beach. There was just enough light for her to see several boats moored out in the small natural harbor. The free traders’ fleet—fish by day, brandy by night. It was a good hideout that excise ships sailing along the coast would have trouble finding.
Jed led her into the cave, which broadened into a surprisingly large chamber. Kiri estimated that it was almost as large as the ballroom at Ashton House.
Once they were inside and away from the entrance, Jed lit a lantern that illuminated much of the cavern. Alcoves were stacked with contraband, particularly wine and spirits in small, easily carried casks. She’d heard that smuggled spirits were so concentrated that large amounts would kill a man. They had to be diluted before being served.
There were oilskin-wrapped bales that probably contained tea and tobacco. Other packages might have been bolts of fabric and lace and other luxury goods. She couldn’t even guess at how much the merchandise was worth. Surely a lot.
Kiri was marched to the far end of the cavern. Before she realized what Howard was doing, he snapped a manacle around her left wrist. Despite her fury at being tethered to the wall like a beast, she held still while he cut her wrist bonds. The rope had been tied with a sailor’s skill and it was cutting cruelly into her wrists.
She was massaging the grooves left by the rope when Howard put a heavy hand on her breast and squeezed. Outraged, she jerked back and kicked hard at his groin.
She didn’t connect dead center, but her riding boot hit close enough that Howard screamed and fell backward, clutching himself. “You
bitch!
” Bent over and gasping with pain, he raised his knife. “You’ll be sorry for that!”
“Can’t blame the chit for not wanting to be groped.” Jed put a restraining hand on the other man’s arm. “The captain will know what to do with her. Start a fire while I get the fixin’s for a kettle of bumbo. The lads will want a hot drink when they get back.”
Grumbling, Howard obeyed, and within a few minutes the two men were sitting by a fire and taking turns swigging from a bottle of gin. Kiri could smell the sharp scent of juniper clear across the cavern.
The gin kept Howard quiet while Jed prepared the bumbo, which required him to suspend a large kettle of water over the fire, Then he added sugar, a lemon, and a pinch of nutmeg. Smuggling must be profitable to afford the ingredients.
The nutmeg and lemon put a pleasant scent in the air while the smoke disappeared into crevices in the ceiling. Kiri guessed that when the flavored water was hot, it would be combined with rum or some other spirit. Kiri wouldn’t mind a tankard of it herself—she was horribly thirsty, and cold as well.
Since she could do nothing about thirst or cold, she sat with her back against the wall and drew her knees up. Resting her wrists in her lap, she investigated the manacle. Cave damp had put rust on the surface of the metal, but it was still solid.
Or was it? She twisted at the metal circlet with her left hand, and had a sense that the manacle was more rusted than her captors realized. If the metal was weakened just a little bit more, she might be able to wrench the manacle open.
On her right hand, she wore the ring her parents had given her on her eighteenth birthday. Elegant rather than vulgar, the ring was set with seven small, perfect diamonds in a line across the top, tapering in size from the largest in the middle down to slightly smaller stones. Diamonds were very hard, and a line of them were like a saw. If she could groove the rusting metal, she might be able to twist and break the manacle.
She began to scrape the diamonds across the rustiest section, glad the surf covered up the rasping sound. The element of surprise would help her get past Jed and Howard if she could free herself before the other runners returned. Once she was on Chieftain, she’d be halfway to Dover before they figured out what happened.
The diamonds scratched into the metal, but progress was painfully slow. She was still tethered when the other smugglers returned. They were in high spirits from safely landing and moving so much valuable merchandise. Even if she could break free, she’d have to get past the whole gang of them to escape.
Quickly Kiri rested her hands in her lap when Hawk came over to examine her, fingers of her right hand resting on the manacle. “What to do with you?” he muttered.
Howard gave a bark of laughter. “Careful, Cap’n, she kicks as well as bites. Like a horse, she needs to be broken to saddle. I’m willin’ to ride her.”
“We’re smugglers, not criminals,” Hawk said tersely. “A pity she ain’t a local gal who could be trusted to keep her mouth shut about us.”
“Worry about ’er later, Hawk.” One of the men brought his captain a steaming tankard of bumbo. “’Tis time to celebrate a good run.”
Hawk turned away from Kiri. “Send a draft up to Swann since he’s waiting above for Mac. He deserves a bit of warmth.”
Kiri watched uneasily. Most of the smugglers would be family men and not prone to murder. But drink could make even sensible men violent, and Howard and perhaps others might kill in cold blood. Grimly she returned to working on the manacle. She had to do something, or she’d go mad.
Time passed, the runners got drunker—and then the devil from hell swept into the cave.
Chapter 3
Shock jolted down Kiri’s spine before she realized the newcomer was only a large man with a torch-bearing smuggler behind him. The sweeping folds of a dark greatcoat and the wildly flaring flames were what made him look like the devil arriving to claim Faust.
He stepped into the light, doffing a hat to reveal a handsome face that looked as if it was seldom troubled by deep thought. “Greetings,” he said in an easy voice that filled the cavern. “How are my favorite free traders?”
Staccato exclamations greeted his appearance. “It’s Mackenzie!”
“Aye, Mac the Knife himself!”
“I bet you say that to all the smugglers, you silver-tongued devil!”
“Where ye been, ye rogue?”
“Pull up a rock and join us, Mac!”
“Sorry I’m late,” Mackenzie said cheerfully. “I spotted a troop of excisemen and didn’t think you’d want me to lead them here.” He shook hands with the captain. “Could you bring in all I ordered?”
“We were a cask short of the hock, but everything else is on its way.” Hawk poured wine into a glass. “Taste this claret. ’Tis a new vintage, but mighty fine.”
Mackenzie accepted a glass and swallowed thoughtfully, judging the wine. “Excellent. I’ll want some of this next time around.” He held out his glass for a refill.
“Here’s your special French tobacco.” Hawk handed over a packet. “Smells nice, but no tobacco is worth what you pay me for smuggling this in.”
Mackenzie sniffed the packet appreciatively before tucking it inside his greatcoat. “Worth every penny. A moment, please . . .” He reached into a different pocket and pulled out two canvas pouches, one large, one small. They clanked when he handed them over. “This for the tobacco. This for the wine and spirits wending their way to London.”
“’Tis a pleasure doing business with you,” the captain said with a rare smile. Kiri noticed he didn’t count the money. Mackenzie must be a regular and trusted customer.
Though the newcomer was large, good-looking, and well dressed, that wasn’t why everyone in the cave watched him. The word
charisma
flitted through Kiri’s mind. She’d had a brief flirtation with a Cambridge student who claimed Kiri was charismatic because her beauty compelled all attention whenever she entered a room. Charisma was a personal magnetism that drew others close, he’d explained. It gave leaders the power to inspire their followers.
Then he’d presented her with a poem written in Greek, which was sweet of him, and concealed the fact that he was probably a bad poet. Calling Kiri charismatic was mere flattery, but Mackenzie was the real thing. All the runners, even the angry Howard, brightened when the newcomer acknowledged them with a glance or a smile.
Mackenzie was savoring his claret when his gaze reached Kiri. “Who’s the wench?” he asked as he moved in her direction.
Hawk, Howard, and Jed moved with him. “Trouble,” the captain said dryly. “She rode into us when we were moving the goods. Had to take her captive. I’m not sure what to do with her. Maybe see how much her family will pay to get her back.”
“They’d be fools to pay a shilling,” Howard growled. “She needs taming, and I’m going to be first in line.”
Jed laughed. “A good thing her kick was a little off or you’d not be able.”
Coarse banter ensued among the smugglers, but Mackenzie ignored them and went down on one knee to study Kiri more closely. She stared back with narrowed eyes.
The man looked a little familiar, though she was sure she’d never met him. Despite his air of genial frivolity, he moved with the feral alertness of a soldier. One who knew how to kill. But she didn’t sense mad-dog violence.
“If looks could kill, we’d all be dead,” he said with amusement. “She might be handsome under that gag. Is it necessary?”
“Had to gag her because her filthy tongue was embarrassin’ us,” Hawk said morosely. “Swears like a drunken sailor.”
The smugglers found that hilarious, and a roar of laughter filled the cavern. Kiri was chilled by the recognition that they were getting to the drunken state where they didn’t care about consequences for their actions.
“What are you going to do with her?” Mackenzie asked.
“Not sure. She’s probably worth something to someone, but I don’t know who.” The captain scowled. “She ain’t the cooperative sort.”
“Bites like a wildcat and kicks like a bloody mule,” Howard muttered.
“She has spirit,” Hawk agreed. “The sort to march off to the excisemen and persuade them out to hunt us down. She must have a pretty fair idea where this hideout is, too. Damned if I know what to do with her.”
“Tie rocks to her and drop her in the Channel,” Howard said.
Kiri glared at the man with murderous rage. She had meant these men no harm. Though she didn’t approve of smuggling, she knew that it was accepted and almost respectable in this area. She’d not have interfered.
But she no longer felt neutral. Given the way they’d treated her, she wanted to do just what the captain feared: bring the law down on these filthy kidnappers. Though she would pass on that in return for the opportunity to kill Howard with her bare hands.
“Says she stole her fancy horse, but I’m thinkin’ she comes from money,” Hawk continued. “Her clothes are strange but not cheap.”
“Sellin’ her back to her family would cause trouble,” Howard argued. “Better to use her and lose her.”
“That would be a waste of a tasty morsel.” Mackenzie’s gaze was still on Kiri, but coolly unreadable. “What’s her name? Maybe I can tell you how valuable she is.”
“Says she’s Carrie Ford, but she could be lyin’,” the captain said with a frown. “Know any rich Ford families?”
“No, but maybe if you take off the gag she’ll say more now that she’s had time to evaluate the situation.”
“Careful she don’t bite you,” Jed said.
“Or kick you in the bollocks,” Howard added. “She’s trouble for sure.”
“Trouble is my middle name.” Mackenzie caught Kiri’s gaze. “If I take off the gag, will you promise not to damage me or injure the delicate sensibilities of our companions with your language?”
She wanted to kick the lurking smile off his handsome face. But even more, she wanted to be free of the filthy, choking gag, so she nodded.
Mackenzie leaned forward and reached around her head to untie the gag. She gulped a deep breath, grateful for the air.
“That was really cutting into your face.” For a moment he cupped her face in his hands, and his warm touch almost unraveled her. Kiri wanted to turn her face into his palm and weep at the nearest thing to kindness she’d experienced since her capture.
But she could not afford to weaken. Burying her emotions, she said, “Thank you.” Her eyes narrowed. “In gratitude for untying me, you have until the count of three to move out of biting and kicking range. One . . . two . . .”
“You really are quite a handsome wench,” he said admiringly as he moved a safe distance away. “Your name is Carrie Ford?” He handed her his half-empty wineglass.
She took a swallow of wine, grateful for the moisture and for the taste that washed away the grime of the gag. “Call me what you will.”
“Very well, wench.” His gaze still on Kiri, Mackenzie said, “I’ll buy her off you, Hawk, and offer my personal assurance that she’ll keep silent about this little episode.”
Hawk looked startled, then interested. “How much?”
Mac considered. “I have fifty gold guineas on me. I should think that would do.”
It was a small fortune, and an unexpected bonus for the night’s work. The captain’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “She might be worth more to her family.”
“Perhaps,” Mackenzie agreed. “But finding her people could be difficult and perhaps dangerous.” He pulled another bag from an inside pocket and tossed it in one hand. It jingled alluringly. “Cash in hand, and no trouble for you.”
Hawk scratched his stubbled jaw thoughtfully. “That sounds like a good bargain to me.” He glanced at his men, who were listening raptly. “What say you?”
The nods and “ayes” of agreement were interrupted when Howard said belligerently, “
I
don’t agree! I want the bitch, and I’ll challenge this London sharper for the right to have her.”
“Then we won’t get our guineas!” someone complained.
“I’ll pay fifty guineas for her myself!” Howard retorted.
“You have that kind of money?” someone asked with surprise.
Howard stared at Kiri with hot, angry eyes. “I can come up with . . . thirty guineas now, and I’ll pay the rest out of my share of future profits.”
Kiri tried to hide her fear. Maybe she should be flattered Howard was willing to spend his savings and pawn his future for her—but not when she knew she wouldn’t survive his ownership.
Some of the runners looked troubled, but others found the business highly entertaining. “Sure, we’ll wait for part of her price,” one said drunkenly. “But when you’re through with her, you have to share.”
“She won’t look so pretty then,” Howard said. “What will it be, Mackenzie—guns or knives? Or will you withdraw your offer since I saw her first?”
“I’ll take your challenge, but really, nothing so deadly as guns or knives. I greatly dislike the sight of blood. Particularly my own.” Mackenzie pondered. “You gave the challenge, so I pick the weapons. I choose cards.”
Howard smiled, showing bad teeth. “Then I’ll have her, because I’m the best damned cardplayer in Kent.”
“Even good players are subject to the gods of chance.” Mackenzie reached into another pocket. “I have a new pack of cards here. You may check them before we start. What shall we play?”
Howard frowned as he shuffled through the cards. “Brag is my game.”
“Very well. Best of three, and may the goddess of chance decide.”
Howard squared up the cards. “With my skill, I don’t bloody need luck.”
Brag had different versions, so the contestants negotiated the rules while a battered card table and two stools were set by the fire. The smugglers began placing bets on the outcome, with Howard strongly favored.
The two men settled at the table and Howard handed the shuffled cards to his opponent, who shuffled again. “So we’re playing for the right to purchase the lady,” Mackenzie mused. “The most amusing stakes I’ve had for donkey’s years.”
Kiri wished that he was less amused and more serious about winning the match. The scene could have come from
Dante’s Inferno,
with steam from the great kettle curling ominously through the air and smugglers crowded around to watch the play, avid faces lit by lantern and firelight.
Mouth tight, Kiri continued scratching at her shackle with her ring. There was so much racket, no one could hear, and finally she was making progress. Soon she might be able to twist off the shackle and escape past the drunken men before they realized.
If that couldn’t be done, she prayed to all Christian and Hindu gods that Mackenzie would win. He was an unknown quantity, but he had to be less brutal than Howard. Certainly he was a lot cleaner. She would also have a much better chance of escaping from one man than from two dozen.
The opponents were silhouetted against the fire, Howard intent and wolfish, Mackenzie handsome, elegant, and casual to a fault. The progress of the game could be followed by the groans and exclamations of approval uttered by the onlookers.
The men seemed well matched. Given how devoted most English gentlemen were to gaming, she guessed Mackenzie was a good player. But she was very afraid that Howard was better. She bit her lip when she realized that the match had reached its climax.
“Three of a kind, Mackenzie!” Howard said gloatingly as he spread his cards out. “It’ll take a bloody miracle for you to beat that!”
“It appears you’re right,” Mackenzie said, to Kiri’s dismay. “But let’s see what the goddess of fortune has given me. . . .”
The audience hushed as tension built. The cards slapped flatly onto the table against the more distant whoosh of the waves. Nerves at the breaking point, Kiri continued scraping at the manacle even though her fingers were cramping and her hands were numb with fatigue. She was close, so close . . .
As a gasp of surprise rose from the onlookers, Mackenzie said with mild pleasure, “Fancy that. I also have three of a kind, and mine are all natural, without using a wild card. The match and the lady are mine.”
“No, damn it!” Howard leaped to his feet, knocking the board to the floor. “You cheated, you filthy cardsharp!”
Mackenzie stood but remained calm. “I cheated? Pray tell me how.”
Howard hesitated. “I’m not sure, but you did something, and by God, you won’t get away with it!” He swung at his opponent, who effortlessly dodged Howard’s fist.
Fighting exploded on all sides as if sparks had fallen into black powder. Howard lunged after Mackenzie, who was remarkably adept at avoiding his opponent’s blows. Their partisans attacked each other, apparently fighting for the pure pleasure of it.

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