The Hellion (The Lady Knights of Barony Book One ) (4 page)

Ava shrugged, kicking the man in his shoulder just for spite. “These bandits hardly need a reason,” she huffed, disgusted. “Crops, cattle, tools, food, you name it they’ve come to steal it.”

“Perhaps we should just ask this charming fellow,” Nell said with a chuckle. She held one of the simply dressed bandits by his collar. Despite his protests and struggles, Nell’s powerful arm held him firmly in place. She shook him roughly like a dog.

“Cease your cries, pig!” Nell commanded as she set him on his feet, still maintaining an unyielding hold on his collar. “Tell us what we want to know and you’ll live.”

Ava stepped forward, fixing the squirming prisoner with her cold, liquid gray stare, now turned silver in her anger. “Speak now or I’ll slit your throat.”

She lifted her dagger and pressed it against the man’s windpipe for emphasis. “Start talking.”

The man returned her venomous stare, his upper lip curled in disdain. “Femme stupide, Dorian Blake is not a man to be trifled with!” he spat in a voice thick with French accent.

“If you’re smart you’ll let him go and tell the families of those women that they needn’t bother waiting for their return.”

“The women,” said Isabelle’s soft voice from behind her. The queen slid her sword into its sheath, her eyes gleaming with anger as she joined them. “He means to sell them.”

Ava’s free hand curled into a fist as she turned back to the rat hanging from Nell’s grip.

“Where’s he taking them?”

He shook his head slowly, his jaw set in determination. “Do you think I would suffer his wrath when faced with a group of women pretending to be men? You don’t scare me!”

Ava felt her fingernails biting into her palm as she closed the distance between herself and the prisoner. Nell clamped her hand down painfully on his neck as he moved to pull away. Ava twisted the dagger until she’d pricked his skin. She watched with satisfaction as a drop of blood welled against her dagger and streamed down to his dirty collar. His eyes widened and he went completely still.

“I’ve been known to sever heads from bodies with this dagger,” she hissed, her nose nearly touching the trembling coward’s. “If you wish to keep your head attached to your shoulders you’ll start talking.”

“There’s a ship!” he exclaimed. Ava nodded, lowering the knife from his throat and taking a step away. He deflated with visible relief.

“Go on,” Nell prompted.

“It’s called
The Raven
and it leaves the port at Cardenas in one week’s time.”

“Where’s it going?” Ava questioned. “I plan to hold you until the information
has been verified, so don’t even think of lying.”

“Martinique,” he said quickly.
“An island in the West Indies. It’s where
The Raven
will make port.”

Ava nodded, satisfied that the captured bandit was telling the truth. “Have him held until the ship has been located,” she said to Nell. “Have a wagon sent for these bodies. A mass burial is more than these curs deserve.”

Nell motioned for Mudiwa to follow her and the two went to carry out Ava’s command. Ava turned to find Queen Isabelle seated on the smooth top of a nearby boulder, her shoulders slumped, her eyes downcast.

“Are you feeling ill, Your Majesty? Shall I send for your carriage?”

“I am perfectly well,” Isabelle replied, waving Ava’s concern away imperiously. “I am disturbed at the thought of Barony’s women being sold into slavery. I can only imagine the sort of places they are likely to end up.”

“More than likely they will be sold to brothels,” said
Hanako, her input blunt as it often was. “The more attractive ones may go to the higher priced places, you know the ones where they dress whores like ladies. The others will not be so fortunate.”

“None of them is fortunate,” Ava snapped. Honestly, as refreshing as she found
Hanako’s frankness, at times it bordered on tactlessness. “We must intercept the ship before it leaves Cardenas.”

Isabelle stood and sighed, rubbing her lower back distractedly. “As much as I’d hate to suffer his wrath for my involvement in today’s skirmish, I must inform my husband. He is bound to find out anyway.”

Ava nodded her agreement. She secretly hoped that King Serge would find a way to convince his wife to remain home and allow her and the other ladies to handle the kidnappers. While she was usually the first to defend a woman’s right to fight for home and country, a pregnant woman was an inconvenience as well as a potential target for their enemy. She quite possibly carried the heir to Barony’s throne and anyone who captured her held two valuable lives as bargaining chips. Ava didn’t want to risk it.

“We will escort you to Guthrie Hall then,” Ava said. “We will await our orders from the king.”

****

“We understand each other then, Mr. Vincent?”

Julian Vincent nodded silently before accepting the heavy sack of coins from his latest employer. He didn’t bother to count them, for he knew he hadn’t been cheated. There wasn’t a man within one hundred miles of Barony who would dare.

“How long?” Julian asked as he pocketed the first half of his payment.

“One week,” the man answered from his place in the shadows. “I want her delivered to my vessel,
The Raven
. She is docked at Cardenas.”

Julian studied the man who had sent for him, curious as he always was about the type of person that had a need of his services. This man had asked for him by name, declared that he would consider no one else for the job.

He was obviously wealthy. Julian could see this by the cut and quality of his clothes. A light accent belied French ancestry, yet brown, sun-kissed skin suggested that he came to Barony from a much warmer climate. The cold, hard gleam in his dark brown eyes told Julian that the man was as calculating as he appeared; not a person to be trifled with, not that Julian had any plans to.

“I’ll need a description of her,” Julian said, “to ensure that I don’t grab the wrong girl.”

Dorian Blake’s shadowy figure moved fully into the light. The hard lines around his mouth softened and he sighed wistfully. “You could not possibly mistake her for anyone else, Mr. Vincent. She is a heavenly vision, the epitome of feminine strength and beauty. She is what dreams are made of, this woman. Her hair is as black as the sails of
The Raven
, her eyes the mysterious color of smoke and ash.”

The man paused and shuddered, visibly affected by the mere thought of the woman. Julian fought the urge to roll his eyes. No woman was
that
beautiful, especially not inwardly where it truly mattered. They were all vain creatures, the lot of them, useful for no more than sating a man’s needs and bearing children. Besides that, there wasn’t much else to recommend them. Julian had never been so consumed by one.

This man was willing to pay him handsomely to deliver the woman and that was exactly what Julian planned on doing. Whatever the woman had done to enchant Dorian Blake so thoroughly was none of Julian’s business. If she knew what was good for her, she’d have never tangled with a man like Blake in the first place.

“You will find her in Gladstone, in the female regiment’s compound. Be warned, Mr. Vincent, the woman has deadly aim with a bow and wields a battleax like a man twice her size. There are others around her with similar skills.”

“I don’t think a few women playing soldier will be a problem,” Julian scoffed.

Blake grinned, a sickening pull of lips away from teeth. There was nothing cheery about the expression. “Très bien. Don’t say I did not warn you,” he replied, his eyebrows raised. “Do whatever you must to subdue her without harming her.”

“Oh, and one last thing,” he added as Julian turned toward the door. He stopped and glanced at Blake over his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I am convinced that my little angel is pure and untouched. She will be delivered to me that way, yes?”

Julian’s jaw tightened and annoyance flared in his chest. There was nothing appealing to him about some black-haired harridan swinging an axe. Even if there were, he was a professional. It was why people asked for him by name. His ability to see the job done without a second thought or blink of an eye had earned him his reputation. Rather than remind the fool of this, Julian merely nodded.“Of course.”

****

“I won’t have it!
Women being kidnapped from their homes? I won’t stand for it!”

Ava watched in silence as King Serge thundered his rage. It was the reaction she’d been expecting. Barony’s newly crowned king had an explosive temper and a great sense of duty and honor. Though not a native of Barony, he considered the province his home. This kidnapping of women was personal.

She sat beside Isabelle, watching as he paced silently, his hands clenched behind his back. He limped slightly, an old injury that showed when he was tired or agitated. As he turned to pace the other way, Ava caught site of the scar slashing down the right side of his face from just below his eye to his jaw line, just one of the king’s many battle trophies. Anxious hands raked through shoulder-length golden brown hair and cobalt eyes flashed angrily.

“I want them found,” he said. “I want them found and the man responsible punished. Do we know his name?”

“Dorian Blake,” Ava responded. “The man we took prisoner called him by that name. He warned that he is powerful, not a man to be trifled with.”

Serge’s jaw flexed and his mouth tightened into a thin line. “I don’t care if he’s a damned sultan! I want him brought to me, alive if possible. I want to know where he’s been taking these women. I also want a messenger sent to Cardenas.” This he said to Primus, Barony’s Grand Vizier. The distinguished man was at least thirty years Serge’s senior, but still carried the handsome features of his youth and dignity befitting his station.

Primus stood and nodded. “To whom will the message be going, Your Majesty?”

“Damien of course,” Serge responded, his pacing finally ceasing. “I need to know of any reported kidnappings in Cardenas in the last few months. Also, find out about this ship,
The Raven.
I want it seized and its occupants arrested. I want those women found.”

Damien, Serge’s younger brother and king of Cardenas, the neighboring province, would do everything he could to aid his brother. Ava had seen the two united in battle before and knew them as a force to be reckoned with.

“You might tell them to hurry,” Ava interjected. “Our prisoner has informed us that
The Raven
sails for the West Indies in one week, which is how long the journey to Cardenas could take if they don’t get a move on.”

“You heard her,” Serge added.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Primus said with a bow before exiting.

“Serge,” Isabelle spoke for the first time in minutes.
“If I may...“

“No, Isabelle, you may not,” he snapped, his eyes flashing as they narrowed in on his wife. “We will talk about your foolish and reckless behavior in private.”

Isabelle fell silent, but Ava could see the fire burning behind her venomous glare. The two would be at each other’s throats the second Ava left the room. Moments after that they would be in each other’s arms. Such was the nature of their relationship.

“Lady Longley,” Serge said, addressing Ava by her formal title. She had not yet grown used to it.

“I await your orders, my king,” she said, standing to receive his command.

“You and your lady knights will pursue Blake and bring him to me for punishment. I will also offer you a contingent of my own soldiers to add to your ranks. They will be instructed to follow your every command.”

Ava nodded. “We will set out after them with haste, Your Majesty,” she answered. “You have my word that we will do everything within our power to return these women to their families.”

Serge nodded in satisfaction and waved his hand in dismissal.
“Very well. The contingent of soldiers will arrive in Gladstone this evening.”

Ava bowed, winking at Isabelle and gifting her friend with a covert smile. Isabelle maintained a straight face, but as always mischief bubbled just under the surface.

By the end of the next day, Ava’s weariness was bone deep. There was much to do if they were to set out in search of Blake and the missing women in the morning.

She had left Nell in charge of receiving the soldiers from Guthrie Hall, as well as the gathering of supplies for their journey. Ava trusted her cousin to handle the tasks efficiently and quickly. For herself, there was an afternoon and evening of weapon cleaning and sharpening. There were gun parts to repair, as well as dented armor to smooth out. She soon found a steady rhythm to her work and finished her tasks in record time.

Satisfied, but exhausted and hungry, she slammed the door of the smithy behind her and turned the key in the lock. She would return with Nell and a wagon for the repaired items in the morning. For now, all she wanted was a meal and her bed.

Ava’s steps were quick as she moved down the darkened, familiar street. Her mother had always worried about her walking about alone after dark. Her father had countered with his usual arguments; his daughter knew how to take care of herself.