The Fighter and the Fallen Woman (29 page)

“I had to. I figured if you were still alive, I could help you most by being back in Mr. Adams’s pocket, and it worked.”

“How’s that?” She sounded leery, but she kept touching him. King felt the first real spring of hope he had in quite some time.

“I was able to direct him elsewhere, give him false leads, because he was determined to find you. He’s been quiet about it, but he’s obsessed with bringing you back.”

Lady shuddered and King couldn’t bear not to comfort her. He turned his hand so they were palm to palm and he grasped her hand in his. “I’m not going to let him get you,” he promised and waited until she looked at him to repeat his oath. She looked scared, but that strength he loved about her was there too. He only hoped she had more where that came from.

“That’s why we need to escape, Lady. He knows where you are and he’s coming.”

* * *

For a second or more, Lady felt like she’d fallen off the bluff and was tumbling through space, waiting to be crushed on the rocks below. Wasn’t that what imminent death felt like—a forever of waiting going by in a second, followed by a burst of immense pain?

“Mr. Adams is coming here,” she repeated numbly, needing to hear it again in her own mind.

“He’s in Glasgow, waiting. I came south, Shade went north and Jonathan went east. We’re to meet tomorrow and report in. The plans are to head farther north if we can’t find you, work our way back down the east coast.”

“Jonathan’s here?”

King nodded and gripped her hand tighter. If one looked at everything Jonathan had done for her recently, he was probably one of the better people to have around. King was probably under the impression she was scared of the Aussie, but it was, as odd as it felt, a small comfort to have him working for Mr. Adams. She hoped her old master hadn’t changed him that much.

“I guess Mr. Collins gave him to Mr. Adams as part of a business deal, so as soon as the fight was over, and with Mr. Collins being dead too, he started working with Shade. But you shouldn’t worry about him. I won’t let him hurt you.”

Lady waved her hand as though brushing away a fly. Aside from King, Jonathan was the least of her worries. “So what happens when you report back to Mr. Adams?”

“What reason do you think I’d have for going back?” King felt a growing fury coloring his words and twisting his face. “That’d be a fine how-do-you-do to the woman I love. If you think I spent three months in the belly of the beast trying to protect you, just to turn you over to that stubby little bastard, you’re more nickey than him and Jonathan put together.”

“Sounds exactly like what somebody would say to gain my trust.” She dropped his hand in his lap and stood up. “Right before I was put back in my cage.” She started to walk up the bluff, away from her tangled emotions and the man who was causing them. It was only fair to say that outburst certainly sounded like her King, right down to his outrage in proclaiming his love, and it was equally fair to say she believed he did still love her. She now had a little more faith to put in her growing store, but with so much at stake, she needed to be sure, desperately so.

She heard King behind her, and judging by his thrashing through the grasses, he was moving fast. Before she had time to wonder what his intentions were, he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to meet his gaze, the expression on his face part angry, part desperate and achingly vulnerable.

“Don’t you get it? I came here to take you away from all of this bad stuff that’s happened to you. I love you, Lady or Elizabeth or whatever you want to be called, and I want to be with you, share everything. All I’m asking you to do is come with me, right now. Take my hand and we’ll leave behind all of the broken promises and shattered dreams. We’ll start over fresh, side by side. No master, no mistress, just equals.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders and held out one, palm up. “I’ve got two tickets on a ship leaving tonight for America. By fall we can be on our own land in Montana, nobody around us but fish and bears. Or we can open a pub in Washington, where the loggers are. Or we can call ourselves gentry and live in San Francisco. As long as I have you with me, I have my happily-ever-after. I guess the question is, is it enough for you?”

Lady stared at his hand as though she could read their future in his palm. Years of hardship in a new, foreign land, but there would be no past haunting them. She knew she could do it with King, knew he would fight bears or loggers and more for her, but there was still a fear holding her back.

She hesitantly reached out and took his hand, but before he could say anything, she said, “I’m scared, King. Yes, we can run, but hiding works well too. Can’t you tell him I’ve died, then come back to me when he returns to London?”

King slowly shook his head back and forth. “He’s had reports of somebody like you in the area. Even if I’m able to show him a grave, who’s to say he won’t have Shade torture the townsfolk to be certain? People like your friend.”

“Meggie,” Lady said. She pictured Shade gutting her like he had Nessie, knowing the vision wouldn’t be unlikely. Mr. Adams had the money and the belief he could do anything and not be caught. Killing several people from the town would be as easy to him as sitting down to a breakfast of tea and scones.

“If we run, I think across an ocean and another country is far enough that he won’t chase us. He doesn’t have the influence or the contacts over there, so it’ll be a hard task for him to find us. And you know Mr. Adams, he can be a bit lazy,” King said with the hint of a smile, and it forced a choked laugh from Lady.

He took her other hand so he was holding both of hers in both of his and took one step closer to her. “We can do this,” he said softly.

She looked at King and saw every word he’d said reflected in his eyes—the promise of the two of them, side by side, facing life together, sharing love, laughter and tears along the way. This was the man who would hold her, love her, protect her.

“Then we’ll run,” she said and squeezed his hands. “Together.”

He released one hand and used the other to lead her across the field toward the road.

“I didn’t mean now,” she said. He looked over his shoulder and winked at her.

“The longer we’re here, the more chance Mr. Adams has to find us. I made sure I got the area including Troon, but that also may have tipped him off. So you’re going to get your things while I head back to the inn to pick up mine. We’ll meet in the square and head for the ship. I’ll slow down when we’ve sailed.”

“Do we have time to get all that?”

“I’m not supposed to report back until tonight, so we have a little time, but not much more. If we’re leaving here forever, there’s one thing I can’t leave behind. Plus I have some money that will help us.”

“You’re right. I have a few things it would break my heart to leave behind. And how much money?” Lady pulled them to a stop.

“About twenty-five hundred pounds. You took my winner’s purse, but I still had the money I won betting on myself.”

“You bet on yourself?” Lady was so confused that King was able to start them walking again.

“Why else do you think I took Mr. Collins’s offer to throw the fight? He pays me five hundred pounds, I bet on myself at five-to-one odds—”

“And win back twenty-five hundred,” Lady finished, admiration tingeing her voice. “Crafty, my love, crafty.”

In one motion, he stopped and swept her into his arms, and Lady felt his solid presence more than she felt the earth under her feet. “Call me that again,” he demanded, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“My love.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. “My love, my love, my love.” Each endearment caused another, longer kiss. At the last, she kissed him hungrily, passionately, and he responded the same. His tongue plunged into her mouth and she sucked on it, twining hers alongside. She nipped at his lower lip and pulled it into her mouth, never getting enough of him close enough to all of her.

She reached down to the buttons of his shirt, intent on consummating their love here on this grassy bluff, the sea breezes their only sheets, but with a painful groan, King pulled back and put his hands over hers.

“Love, I really like where you’re going with this, but we need to get out of here. If it makes you feel any better, we’ll have weeks on that ship with nothing else to do.”

She rubbed against him, reveled in the heat and strength of his erection. “Does that make you feel any better?” she asked, a naughty smile curling her lips.

She let him grab her hand and start leading them to the road again. She felt like a girl being courted but one who also had the knowledge of physical love, and enjoyed the combination of the two. Lady almost skipped into town.

As they reached the edge of Troon, King stopped and took her face in his hands, lowering his head to look at her eye to eye. “Take only what you need and get going. Even though we have some time, that doesn’t mean I want to tempt the fates. The sooner we’re on the ship, the happier I’ll be.”

“I’ll be there soon.” Lady left King heading into town and ran to her cottage. After making a quick pile of what she was taking with her, she found she was able to pack everything in one bag: two dresses and underthings, a shawl and an extra pair of boots. Two thousand pounds were hidden under a secret panel lining the bottom of the bag, and three hundred pounds were sewn into a petticoat. She had her last hundred folded up in her pocket for easy reach. She had managed to sell all of her jewelry in Glasgow save the pearl-and-ruby necklace, which she’d had restrung, and it was bundled up in a pair of drawers. Lady hoped any men who searched her bag would brush over such a personal item.

Meggie would be over tomorrow, and she’d get Lady’s note to take the chickens and goats for herself, or to sell them at market. That left her with one more thing to do before she could leave.

Lady set her bag on the stoop, then took her little brown thrush outside, as well. Through the bars of bamboo, she looked at the little bird whose song had gotten her through the past three months, and smiled. She opened the small door and pushed the cage toward the sky, watching her little bird take flight in the open air. After the thrush had become a small speck against the blue, Lady threw the cage to the ground, destroying it. With a clear heart, she headed to the village square, debating using the name Elizabeth permanently.

She noted how few people were out—none, in fact—but since she typically didn’t come into town during this time of the day, she figured it was always like that. Perhaps everybody was at home for the noon meal. The important thing was that King was here—she could see him standing against the corner of the smithy’s with his bag at his feet. The poor dear looked nervous. Lady smiled, thinking of how much fun she’d have teasing him once they were on the ship.

“Did you think I wasn’t coming?” she called and waved. She picked up her skirts to run toward him when somebody stepped out from the back of the smithy’s.

“Hello, Lady,” Mr. Adams said, one side of his mouth clamped on a cigar, the other pulled up in an obscene grin. He was holding a pistol aimed at King’s head.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Lady gasped and it felt like she was swallowing a cold blade. She turned and saw Shade and Jonathan behind her. Even without King in such danger, there was no escape.

There must be a small sliver of hope, else King would be dead and she’d be tied up or drugged already. She needed time to think and there was only one way to do that.

She dropped her bag and let her shoulders slump a little. She let a weary pout pull her face down, yet tried to keep a naughty sparkle in her eyes.

“Thank goodness you came, Mr. Adams.” She took a deep breath to push her chest out. Even in this faded country dress, Mr. Adams would be hard-pressed not to take a peek.

And peek he did, looking over her like a starving man in front of a roasted pig. She approached Mr. Adams, blending sex and contrition, and held out a hand to him. “I’ve been weary, and so lonely—”

The instant she was close enough for him to touch, he reached out and viciously backhanded her, the force of the unexpected blow dropping her to the ground. Lady tasted blood, and even though her eyes were watering, she could see that he continued to keep the pistol trained on King. She now knew why there were no townspeople out and about—Mr. Adams had come into town like an ill omen, and if there was one thing the seafaring folk of Troon gave wide berths to, it was evil portents. There’d be no help from her new neighbors today.

“Keep your lies, whore. I wondered if you were spreading your legs for this one—” Mr. Adams gestured at King with the pistol, “—even after he swore nothing happened.” He took one step and stood flush against King, the two men pressed together from feet to neck. Even though Mr. Adams was a full head shorter than King, he made up for it with the pistol he jammed under King’s jaw, drawing an involuntary gasp from Lady.

“You see, Knife?” he asked, looking at Lady but not moving the gun. “No cunt would react that way unless her man was threatened. Isn’t that right?”

“Aye, that’s right, Mr. Adams,” Jonathan replied and Lady was so surprised to hear him answer to that name that she looked over her shoulder.

“Forgive me, Lady.” Mr. Adams stepped away from King and lowered the pistol, holding it as negligently as though it was a handkerchief. He offered his free hand to Lady and she took it—she had to—and he pulled her to her feet. Almost formally, he presented her to Jonathan, who had stepped forward and given a low bow. “Allow me to introduce my newest fighter, Knife. Knife, this is Lady. She’s a lying, deceitful whore, but the best fuck you’ll ever have.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Lady.” Jonathan was smiling in a joyfully insane way. Lady had watched him kill after such a smile, but she had also watched him become as gentle as a little boy. That he was smiling in such a way now could be a very bad portent, or another such measure of hope.

Lady was yanked out of her musings by Mr. Adams jerking on her hand. She looked at him and tried to interpret the look he was giving her, his eyes going back and forth between her and Jonathan. She finally realized what he was going for and with only one hand, made a deep curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you, as well, Knife. You must be highly skilled for Mr. Adams to employ you, as he only has the best.”

The last part was a grasp at Mr. Adams’s vanity, something she used to be so practiced at manipulating that she could do it without thinking, and was glad that old skill served her well today. It might have worked because Mr. Adams’s grasp loosened slightly.

“Let’s go, then. Knife, tie Lady’s hands. Shade, get the carriage. I want to get the first train back to London.” Mr. Adams walked back to King, pulling Lady along behind him. “This one we still need to decide what to do with. We’ll travel lighter without the weight...”

Lady met King’s eyes for the first time since seeing him with a gun held to his head. To outward appearances, he looked stoic, almost bored, but she could now read those brown-and-gold eyes like a book, and saw the story of his death there. Faced with such an outcome, she was at a complete loss as to what to do besides throw herself into his arms and cry at the unfairness of it all.

Suddenly, King’s eyes darted around the square and she watched his brow furrow slightly. Wondering what concerned him so, she risked a glance and saw nothing unusual. It was a large cleared space, the area holding the market stalls from just the day before. Where was the hope in that?

“Mr. Adams, I have a proposition for you,” King said. “I fight Shade. I win, we go away forever. He wins, I go with you willingly, do whatever you want me to do.”

Mr. Adams studied King, obviously chewing his offer over in his mind. Lady understood what her fighter had been looking at—the Troon square was about the same size and shape as the warehouse where he’d won the tournament. She wanted to kiss King and congratulate him for his cunning. The only thing Mr. Adams liked better than having the best and being flattered was contests where a true winner—his winner—could be declared. Throw a meaty bet on top of it, and he was in heaven. That was why he’d organized the tournament. It was an opportunity for him to show off his stable, be flattered about it and win on the outcome. It fit him on every level and was why Lady had come away with the jewels she had.

“I don’t know,” Mr. Adams said, and scratched his temple with the barrel of the pistol. He then pointed it at King as though it was just another finger. “How can I trust you to return to my loving fold when Shade wins?”

“I give you my word,” King said. “And if you ever suspect anything, you can have Shade or Jona—Knife kill me. And until then, you’d have every thief, merchant and lawman in the East End scared to cross you because you’d have the reins of the three of us, and nobody would want to cross that.”

Lady watched Mr. Adams picture his empire growing, his coronation as the Earl of the East End being celebrated by blood and violence. He was close, but he hadn’t tipped yet. She swallowed the blood trickling from where Mr. Adams hit her cheek against her teeth and pushed the pain back. She’d been hit before, had to ignore the pain before, but never with this much at stake.

Lady leaned close, letting her breast brush against his arm. “And if Shade wins, I go too. Willingly. You can do anything you’d like to me—tie me up, whip me, drug me, leave me at the Red Door, watch me with other women—and I will be enthusiastic about it.” She finished by flicking his earlobe with her tongue. She glanced at King and tried to reassure him with her eyes, but Mr. Adams suddenly turned toward her and she had to look at him.

“Other women?” He licked his lips.

Lady nodded, her whole being conveying earthly delight while she promised herself she would escape this mess or die trying. The only way she’d be back at the Red Door or under this man again was if she were dead.

“Mr. Adams,” Shade said, clearly sounding worried.

She had one chance to make this work, one chance to get Mr. Adams to buy in, or she and King were as good as dead. She trailed her hand down Mr. Adams’s chest and over his belly to suggestively stroke his crotch, giving a little earthy cry of pleasure when she traced the fleshy ridge there. She let her eyes travel over his body like it was a piece of candy, and when she reached his neck, glanced over his shoulder at Shade. The silent fighter watched her, a putrid hatred oozing out of his eyes, and she held his gaze. He could stare all he wanted. She’d watched him kill her best friend and she would never look away again. Shade finally broke his stare and focused on his master.

“Mr. Adams,” Shade repeated and Mr. Adams threw up a hand to stop him, the gun casual to him but not to the rest of them. Lady had the pleasure of seeing Shade flinch.

“Shade, who does the thinking here?”

“You do,” he answered automatically.

“Then bugger off and get ready for your fight. It starts in five minutes. I still want to make that train.”

* * *

King started bouncing from foot to foot and throwing shadow punches. Shade was a few feet away doing the same thing, and King knew he should be watching him but wasn’t. He had to get his mind ready to fight, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Lady and what she had done. More than anything, he wanted to hold her, whisper in her ear how proud he was of her, but he couldn’t, not when she was still being watched by Mr. Adams. Their only hope was to win the fight and get out of here. If he didn’t win, he’d do what he could to give Lady a chance to run.

He glanced at Mr. Adams again, see if he could determine his mood by the look on his face, but the little man was watching Lady, a confused set to his brow. King looked at Lady and saw she was sneaking looks at her bag on the ground. He almost groaned, but couldn’t blame her for her nervous gestures.

Not saying anything, Mr. Adams tucked his gun into his jacket pocket and stepped forward, drawing Lady’s attention. Giving her a puzzled grin, he picked up her bag and set it on the hitching rail. As he pawed through the contents, she watched, her face flat.

“Oh, I’ve missed these, I have.” Mr. Adams lifted a rolled bundle of some white material in his hand. He held it up to his face and King was able to tell by a wayward ribbon that Mr. Adams was breathing deeply of Lady’s drawers. He had a look of sublime pleasure on his face and exhaled deeply, perhaps to do it again, when an object fell out of the bundle and landed in a sparkling heap on the ground. Mr. Adams, Shade and King looked at the ground, and when King saw the pearl-and-ruby necklace, he looked at Lady, who was looking up as though she was ready to start throwing punches herself. “Dammit,” she whispered.

“Oh-ho, I’ve missed these too.” Mr. Adams slipped the necklace into his jacket pocket. “Now that I’ve got one set of jewels returned, let’s see if I can get two more. It’s time to fight.” He walked into the center of the square and motioned to King and Shade. Shade strode forward, but King hesitated long enough to touch Lady’s hand.

Lady grabbed him and held tight. “How about a kiss for luck?” she asked with a tremulous smile. “The last man I kissed won the tournament, so I must have some good fortune.”

King grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her hard, pressing his lips against hers with a force spiraling out of their control. He broke off quickly and looked at her eye to eye.

“I love you,” he said, the words a fierce vow.

“And I love you, my fighting man. Now destroy this son of a bitch so we can leave.”

King walked into the makeshift ring, and passed Mr. Adams, who was heading back to Lady. He glanced over his shoulder to take one last look at her, and Shade took the opportunity to punch him so hard it spun him around before knocking him to the ground.

* * *

Hannibal watched Shade drive King to the ground with a single blow and he felt his blood rise. Bloody hell, he’d missed this raw savagery, this primal matching of two rabid dogs against each other. He grabbed Lady by the arm. He wanted to keep her near, but also was feeling the old itch to spin her around and bend her over. This way he had a good grip for either.

Without looking he knew Knife was behind him, and wondered if Knife would be able to protect him like Shade would if Hannibal chose to tup Lady right now. He had missed his blood sport but he had missed her sweet cunny more.

Shade kicked King in the ribs, not letting him breathe or get back up. He pounded on him for several seconds, causing Hannibal to remember how much he enjoyed watching two men beat each other to death. King was finally able to roll away. He grabbed Shade’s foot and twisted, throwing the taller man off balance and to the ground. King and Shade got up at the same time and they circled each other, the real fight coming on the air like a storm. He had to say it was now on even par with the thought of Lady’s cunny.

As though signaled by an imaginary bell, King and Shade charged toward each other and Hannibal laughed. Lady glared at him and he winked at her, almost feeling that hellcat writhing under him. “Oh-ho, pet. Don’t get tied in a knot yet. This is a right good fight, and I’m enjoying it. Might set up another one or two back in London, get some proper bets going. Now hush, and watch. You’ll miss it.” His day was getting better and better.

Blows were exchanged, fists landed with heavy, wet sounds, and soon sweat was replaced by blood. Since this wasn’t a formal match, there were no rounds. A few times both men would stop and watch the other, catching their breath, but they would dive back at each other. Hannibal yelled with each charge and he didn’t know if it was the fight, the money-making possibility of more like it, the thought of Lady’s cunny squeezing him home or all of it. He was in heaven and such an emotion couldn’t be contained.

With a fierce cry, King launched himself at Shade and knocked them both to the ground. They struggled in the dirt, rolling back and forth. One man would be on top, then he would be swung to the bottom. King managed to get his upper body across Shade’s and used his leverage to pin him knees to shoulders. One quick jab to the nose teared Shade’s eyes and allowed King to land a flurry of blows, each one knocking his opponent a little more senseless.

After one last ferocious blow, Shade slumped bonelessly on the ground and Lady started to rush to King. Hannibal jerked her back to his side and growled, “Where do you think you’re going, bitch? Just because King-boy there won the fight doesn’t change anything. You’re still going back with me.”

He watched his whore look away, her face showing disgust, but then she frowned and looked into the ring. Hannibal followed her gaze and saw King coming toward them, his blood obviously still up.

But then he saw Shade.

Shade—glorious Shade—had staggered to his feet, blood mixing with the dirt on his face to create a primitive mask of death. He stood behind King, a jagged rock in his hand and Hannibal smiled. Oh, yes, he was going to win this fight after all.

“Look out!” Lady cried, and pointed behind King. Hannibal tried to cover her mouth with his hand, at the same time using his arm to pull her against his body so she would be restrained, and they both watched Shade bring the rock above his head, ready to break it on King’s head. Lady was squirming against Hannibal, and where part of him enjoyed the feel of her curves straining against him, her arms held tightly between them, the knowledge that he was about to watch Shade brutally kill King was what made him hard.