So Worthy My Love (12 page)

Read So Worthy My Love Online

Authors: Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

BOOK: So Worthy My Love
10.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Eagerly Spence held up a finger to interrupt. “Why, ‘twas last eventide, mistress, by the river . . .” His memory came swooping back in vivid detail, and the mental image of himself being dragged end over end behind the boat brought a crimson stain to his face. The blush deepened when the captain bent a stare of wide curiosity upon him.

Fitch was every bit as eager to please. He seized the trencher from Ramonda and, setting it on the table, lifted the bread. Dusting the small loaf off against his well-stained jerkin, he placed it on the rumpled napkin, then, with the cuff of his sleeve, he
carefully wiped several particles of grime from the hunk of cheese before he laid it beside the bread. With a sheepish smile he held out the food to her.

Elise stared at his offering in mild repugnance, and it was the captain who finally took it. He gathered the four corners of the napkin and, with deft fingers, knotted them together before presenting the bundle to her.

“My apologies,
vrouwelin
. The hour grows late, and I must return to my ship before dawn. If yu are of a mind, yu may dine in yur sedan.”

“Am I allowed to know where you are taking me?” she asked coldly. “And why I must be carried about in this thing?”

“ ‘Tis a matter of precaution. No one vould think it amiss if ye place a chest aboard my ship, but if ve vere to carry aboard a struggling damsel, it might arouse unvanted interest.”

“And then?” she demanded, as an oppressive feeling of doom descended upon her. Ships were for sailing, either to other towns or to other countries. The question of her destination was paramount in her mind and burned to be spoken. “Where are you taking me after I reach your ship?”

“I vill tell you our destination after ve set sail.”

“But you intend to take me from England, do you not?” she pressed.

“That is correct.”

“I'll not go!” she cried in a rising panic.

“Yu have no choice,
vrouwelin
. I'm sorry.”

Elise bestowed on him a glare of such heat and intensity it should have reduced the Hansa captain to cinders, but Nicholas merely inclined his head
toward the chest again in an unspoken directive and awaited her compliance with a firm, commanding stare. Grinding out a stream of mumbled threats, Elise slapped the bundle from his grasp, sending it flying, and stepped into the chest. She rapped her knuckles on the hard wooden sides and cast a derisive sneer toward her small audience. “Faith! You've provided such comforts, I may not survive the journey.”

“Entschuldigen Sie,”
Nicholas apologized, sweeping a quilt from the cot. He folded the piece and laid it over the bottom, then tossed a pillow atop the heap. Cocking a brow, he crossed his arms and stared down at her expectantly. “Anything else,
Englisch
?”

Averting her face, Elise sniffed primly and reluctantly lowered herself upon the quilt. The hide shoes were placed in her care before the captain squatted beside the chest.

“Now,
vrouwelin
, I vould ask yu to give me yur solemn oath . . .”

“You
are
daft!”

Nicholas ignored her interruption. “Give me yur vord yu vill not attempt to alert anyone's attention to this chest, and I vill refrain from using a gag and ropes to bind yu. For the most part yur cries vill not matter, but should there come a moment, I vant yur assurance yu vill remain mute until ve are safely aboard my ship. It vill be more bearable for yu if yu are allowed some freedom.”

“Again, what choice have I?” she asked bitterly. “You could let this thing become my coffin if you so desired, and what objection could I make?”

“None,” he answered simply. “But I vould make a pledge to yu in return to see yu safely aboard my ship as long as yu keep yur vord.”

Her eyes were cold as steel as she looked into the pale blue orbs that rested upon her. “I have a care for my life, sir, and ‘twould seem I must give you my oath to preserve it.” She inclined her head stiffly. “ ‘Tis done then. You have my word.”

Gently pressing her head down, Nicholas lowered the lid, and as her limited space darkened Elise took note of several patches of light where small holes had been bored through the chest to allow for the passage of air. At least she could take some solace in the fact that the first intent of these miscreants was not directed toward snuffing out her life by suffocation.

The hasp was secured with a lock, and Spence and Fitch looped ropes about the chest to form a sling of sorts to enable them to carry the cumbersome piece with more ease down the stairs. Nicholas quickly opened the door and made certain the way was clear before moving aside. Spence stepped to the front of the chest to bear the weight, while Fitch guided its passage from the rear, and together they slid their burden to the top of the stairs and peered down the flight as they considered the task at hand. Fitch was understandably concerned after his recent experience. He wiped his sweaty palms against his jerkin and, seizing the handle, lifted the chest on end with a single heave, then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth as he heard a loud thump and a muffled screech of pain followed by a lengthy string of unintelligible words. The tone
was hot enough to convey the girl's rage, and with a great deal more caution they proceeded down the stairs.

On the lower landing Captain Von Reijn slid past the two men and, with belaying pin in hand, opened the door a crack. Once again he made sure the passageway was empty before he moved aside. Receiving his nod of assurance, Fitch and Spence snugged the ropes across their shoulders and, lifting the chest, steadied it between them with their hands.

Elise could feel their short, jogging steps as they hastened down the hall and eventually out the door. There was a pause on the cobbled thoroughfare and a swoop upward, ending in a head-jarring thump as they lifted the piece to a higher elevation. Elise started in surprise as the ropes were dropped across the top, and from the rattle, jolt, lurch, and sway, she guessed the coffer was being pushed in a small handcart. Her suspicion was further borne out by the erratic path they wove amid much hushed and urgent cursing and hastily given directions. At the complete mercy of the men, she could only wince at the bumps and brace herself against the sides as she tried to avoid more serious damage.

There was a hurried plunge, first downward and then level, and for a short distance the cart moved along speedily, then suddenly, without warning, the wheel fell into a rut, bringing the conveyance to an abrupt halt. The chest had no such restrictions. It lurched forward to a sudden accompaniment of anxious shouting, and for a breathless space of time it seemed to Elise that her world teetered on the brink of an unknown precipice until the chest finally settled
back into the cart. Hearing the loud, audible sighs of the men and a nearby splash, she decided it was better for her to remain ignorant of all that had just transpired. A brief vision of the coffer sinking slowly into the dark, ebon depths of the Thames reinforced her relief.

Once more the chest swung upward, and then with much wheezing and short, halting steps it was carried down a walk that sounded hollow beneath their footfalls. The movement ceased with a final jolt as the chest was placed aboard what Elise assumed was a small craft, possibly the same boat in which they had sailed into London. She heard the slow lap of water against the sides and, a moment later, the steady creak of oars as they pulled away from shore.

It seemed like hours elapsed before the thump of wood on wood and the muffled exchange of voices intruded into the silence. The chest was tilted from side to side, then a wrenching sound came as it was hoisted upward, seemingly into the very heavens. When it was lowered again, the chest was put through another series of gyrations, which left Elise braced rigidly against the interior. At long last it came to rest upon a solid floor, or so it seemed to Elise until she heard a slow creaking, such as a large ship might make as it lay anchored in the main stream of the river. Once more the chest was lifted by the men, but this time the passage was short and in a moment or two a heavy door closed behind the party. After a few fumbling thumps against the exterior of the chest, a thin shaft of light appeared as fingers slid beneath the lid and lifted it.

Elise raised a hand to shield her eyes from the unaccustomed glare of a lantern that was held close above her. Beyond its light she could see the dark shapes of the three men who bent over her and, beyond them, the low-raftered ceiling of a ship's cabin. The men seemed incapable of movement as they stared down at her, yet her own vituperation overshadowed everything else. With an angry grunt she managed to heave her shoulders up and twist an arm beneath her. Her legs refused to comply as she fought to extract herself from the restrictive space of the cramped chest. Brushing tumbled tresses from off her brow, she raised a vengeful glare to blatantly accuse each of them.

“If
ever
I should chance upon any or all of you being flogged to the bare bone”—she spat the words out in a half-monotone that singed the ears of those who listened—“I would ransom my most precious possessions to serve tea and scones to your tormentor, so he might be well refreshed and wax eager in his labor.”

She levered herself upward, but her numb legs remained twisted beneath her. It was Nicholas Von Reijn, most bright of mind and perception, who moved first to assist her. Spence was a half-measure behind him, and Fitch eagerly pushed forward to lend aid. Before Elise could accept or reject their assistance, she was almost assaulted by the sudden plethora of helping hands, all seeking to pry her free at the same time. She was nearly plucked from her composure before the captain brushed the others aside. Placing a strong arm beneath her back and sliding another underneath her knees, he lifted her from the chest and stood her gently to her feet.

The awakening circulation in her legs was comparable to the sharp, stinging prickles of a thousand needles, and as Nicholas released her from his firm grasp, Elise teetered unsteadily, as yet unable to stand alone. Quickly he slipped an arm about her shoulders and half-supported her against his broad chest.

“Yur pardon,
vrouwelin
.” His warm breath brushed her cheek “Here, let me help yu.”

Elise was abruptly aware of his overzealous assistance and the crush of his brawny arm about her. It brought to mind a possible reason for her capture, and a sense of panic overtook her. With a screech she flung up her arms, thrusting herself away from him, and staggered back a few stiff-legged steps until she came up against a desk. A gnarled oak staff leaned against it, and as she struggled for balance, her hand brushed the smooth knob of the weapon. Or so it became for her. With a defiant snarl she snatched the stick and brandished it, sweeping a wide, wicked arc in front of her, setting them all back upon their heels. Disheveled, ragged, and filthy, Elise braced herself against the desk, looking very much like a savage woman with her auburn hair straggling in long tendrils across her face and a smudge darkening the tip and side of her nose. Her eyes blazed defiance at her three stout-hearted foes, and in the same half-snarl, half-monotone she warned them all, without distinction for rank.

“Sirs . . . or gentlemen . . . or worthless scum of whatever gutters you sprang from, listen well, I bid you. I've been most poorly used and abused these
hours past. Mauled and pawed! Trussed up like a roasting goose!” Her outrage gained ground as she listed the offenses. “Tossed over a shoulder like some common baggage! And thence, against my will, taken from my home and brought here to this . . . this . . .” Her eyes swept the cabin in search of a name to lay to the place wherein she now found herself and left the sentence hanging for want of an answer. Her gaze blazed afresh. “For this deed, perhaps some of you will soon be rewarded, but I warn you . . .” She waved the cudgel threateningly. “If I am so rudely touched again . . .”—her eyes pierced the captain through—“or violated in any fashion, I swear to you that your payment will come at once, be ye Grand Duke of England or surly
knave! And though I may die in the levying, I shall extract a dire tax from any who dare lay a hand to me!”

Strangely none of the men seemed to doubt her efficacy. Indeed, they had every reason to believe her, for the maid had already proven herself an uncommonly tenacious example of womanhood.

Captain Von Reijn's heels came together with a loud click, and he bowed briefly as a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Again I must beg yur apologies,
vrouwelin
. I had no hint of yur frailty and only sought to give aid.”

“Frailty, indeed!” Hefting the staff, Elise turned it slowly in front of her. “I will show you frailty, the sort from which you will beg relief. You may slay me here and now, whether by blade or halberd.” Her eyes marked the two weapons hanging on a wall, then a feral gleam began to burn in their blue depths as her gaze settled on the three. “I only know I have
had enough of this abuse and I will tolerate no more! Now do your worst or be done with it altogether!”

Elise's small, firm chin jutted as she clenched her teeth against a shudder. If they were truly desperate men, she had just invited her own demise.

“Belay yur fears,
vrouwelin
,” the Hanseatic captain attempted to reassure her. “I svear to yu ve are all svorn to yur velfare, to see yu safely borne on a voyage vhich yu may in due time view to yur benefit. Ve vill give yu our service and protection until ye deliver yu into the hands of the one who arranged yur capture.”

“Protection!” With scoffing laughter Elise rapped the end of the staff against the floor. “Oh, pray thee, saints above! Should I receive protection such as this much longer, I might yet succumb. Yea, I would rather have a pack of slavering wolves at my heels than the lot of you seeing to my care!
Protection? Service?
Bah!”

Her challenging stare dared any of them to repeat the vow, but stubbornly the captain tried again. “Vhatever vas done,
vrouwelin
, vas not carried out vith malicious intent. I say once again ve are at yur service. Do yu have a need ye can attend?”

Other books

The Vampire and the Vixen by St. John, Debra
600 Hours of Edward by Lancaster, Craig
The Jezebel Remedy by Martin Clark
Kaavl Conspiracy by Jennette Green
LoveThineEnemy by Virginia Cavanaugh
Warrior by Cara Bristol
Primitive Nights by Candi Wall
Earth vs. Everybody by John Swartzwelder