A Breath of Scandal (32 page)

Perhaps she could devise her own escape. Traveling all the way to London with only Crockett and the driver of the coach to guard her presented many interesting possibilities. Surely she could outsmart two men who had more brawn than brains. She spent the next hours planning her escape, only to have her hopes dashed when a dozen men joined them at the coaching inn where they stopped to change horses and purchase food.

“Who are those men?” Lara asked. They all seemed to be under Crockett’s authority.

“They’re my men,” Crockett bragged. “They’ll be handsomely rewarded for this day’s work once we reach London.”

“So you
are
taking me to London.”

Crockett cursed beneath his breath. “I don’t suppose it matters that ye know where we’re taking ye.” He handed her a pastry. “Eat up, I don’t know when another meal will be forthcoming.”

Hunger pangs convinced Lara to eat the greasy tart. She was eating for two now and had to nourish her babe.

“Won’t we be stopping for the night?” she asked, licking the crumbs from her fingers.

“Too dangerous.”

“But I have to …” She bit her lip and blushed.

“The jakes are behind the inn,” Crockett said. “I’ll escort ye.”

He opened the door and stepped down. Lara followed. Outside the coach at last, she thought gleefully as she scanned the area for a source of help. The stable boy came into view. Perhaps she could catch his eye, or call out to him to let him know she was being abducted. Unfortunately the stable boy was so busy with the horses, he didn’t even look in her direction. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t hurt to scream.

“I wouldn’t if I were ye, wench,” Crockett growled. “Not if ye value the lad’s life.”

“You wouldn’t! He’s an innocent boy.”

“Aye, a boy who means nothing to me.”

Lara gasped, realizing that she was dealing with a heartless madman. She finished her business quickly, stopped briefly to wash her hands and face in a barrel of rainwater, and reluctantly returned to the coach. When she hesitated at the door, she was unceremoniously tumbled inside by an impatient Crockett.

Lara scooted into the far corner, rested her head against the squabs, and pulled her cloak tightly about her. She was exhausted. But far worse than exhaustion, the greasy tart had upset her fragile stomach, and nausea plagued her. As the coach rolled off into the night, Lara’s stomach roiled dangerously, until she could no longer control the appalling urge to vomit. She sat up and clapped a hand over her mouth.

“What ails ye now, wench? Can’t ye see I’m trying to sleep?”

“I’m sick,” Lara moaned. “If we don’t stop now, I’ll foul the coach.”

“Bloody hell!” Crockett blasted. “Is this a trick?”

The gagging sound she made must have convinced him, for he rapped on the roof and the coach rolled to a stop. One of the outriders yanked open the door. “What’s amiss?”

“The wench is sick,” Crockett said, moving aside as Lara stumbled out of the coach. “Watch her. I don’t know what she has up her sleeve but ’tis not going to work.”

Lara was beyond caring what Crockett said or did as she headed for the side of the road. Crossing her arms over her belly, she bent over and lost the contents of her stomach. When she finished, she ripped a ruffle from her petticoat and wiped her mouth. One of Crockett’s men must have felt sorry for her, for he offered his water pouch. Lara accepted gratefully. She poured water on the scrap of cloth and cleaned her hands and face, then she rinsed out her mouth and drank deeply.

“What’s keeping ye?” Crockett hollered from the coach.

“Are ye ready?” the guard asked.

“Thank you,” Lara said. “You seem like a reasonable man. Would you help me escape?”

The man cast a nervous glance over her shoulder and saw Crockett watching him. “I’m loyal to Crockett.” Grasping her arm, he turned her around and shoved her toward the coach. “Get ye inside, wench.”

So much for kindness, Lara thought as she climbed inside the coach and settled in the far corner.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Crockett said. “There’s another inn down the road. My men could use the rest, and so could I. Besides, I don’t fancy spending the night with a sick woman in the coach.”

Lara said nothing lest Crockett change his mind. She felt terrible and wanted to do nothing to harm her unborn child. Lara didn’t speak again until they reached the inn and Crockett dragged her inside.

“I’d like a bath,” she said in her haughtiest tone after Crockett paid for two rooms. “Please have someone bring a tub and hot water to my room.”

“That’ll be extra,” the innkeeper said.

Crockett shot her a venomous look and placed another coin on the counter. “Prepare a bath for the lady.” Then he grasped Lara’s arm and pulled her up the stairs.

“I’m setting a guard outside yer door,” he said as he opened the door and shoved her inside. “I’ll be in the room next to yers, and this is the second floor so don’t even think about leaving through the window.” He made for the door. “Enjoy yer bath, wench.” He paused at the door and stared at her. “Yer a fetching little piece. If I wasn’t afraid of the Jackal I’d sample yer wares myself.”

“Get out!” Lara hissed. “Julian will kill you if you touch me.”

Crockett’s laughter followed him out of the room. Lara slammed the door and leaned against it. She was still there when servants arrived with the tub and hot water.

Four days later they reached the English border. After that first night, Crockett decided that stopping at inns was less dangerous than traveling on snow-covered roads at night.

Once they crossed the English border the snow turned to chilling rain. Not for the first time since her ordeal began, Lara was grateful for the fur-lined cloak she’d purchased in Inverness. That thought brought forth another. She hoped the shopkeeper hadn’t suffered any permanent injury from the blow Crockett’s henchman had dealt her.

They were well into England now, and Crockett sought rooms at an inn on the outskirts of Coventry. Soon they would reach London and Lara was desperate to escape before meeting the Jackal.

Lara had learned that the men who had accompanied Crockett to the Highlands were smugglers from his ship. Once they reached England, the men, except for Dorks, who was driving the coach, parted company with them. Crockett told her they were returning to their ship, which awaited them in a hidden cove on the Cornish coast. Crockett and Dorks were to join them once Lara was delivered into the Jackal’s hands.

Lara dragged her feet into the inn. She was exhausted, ill, and barely able to function. Apparently she was too slow for Crockett’s liking. Grasping her arm, he all but dragged her through the door. She almost collapsed when he released her and used a chair to steady herself. She had eaten little of the unappetizing food Crockett provided for her and had lost weight. Her face was noticeably thinner, and purple shadows smudged the delicate skin beneath her eyes.

Once Crockett had secured their rooms he shoved Lara toward the stairs with unnecessary roughness. Dorks followed behind them. Neither Lara, Crockett, nor Dorks noticed the young Rom sitting in the corner near the fire, nursing a flagon of ale. But he saw them and recognized both men as well as Lara. He waited until they disappeared up the staircase, then followed. Lurking in the shadows, he saw Crockett escort Lara inside a room and slam the door behind her.

He hugged the wall, not liking what he saw. A rough looking man settled down before Lara’s door and placed his loaded pistol in his lap. The young Rom slunk back down the stairs, returning to his seat before the fire. He had no weapon, and he wasn’t as foolish as he had once been. He had done something incredibly stupid, and because of it was no longer welcomed by his people.

Rondo remained in the common room the entire night. He was awake and watchful the following morning when Crockett descended the stairs and ordered breakfast for his party. Moments later Rondo sidled out the door, saddled his horse, and waited. He’d done Lara a terrible wrong and had accepted his punishment. Now fate was giving him a chance to right that wrong. Obviously Lara was in deep trouble and he was to blame.

He’d never meant Lara harm. True, he had been jealous of Drago and had betrayed him, and he sincerely regretted it. Now it was up to him to help Lara.

Lara lay on the bed fully clothed. She hadn’t bothered to undress any of the nights since she’d been abducted, for Crockett had a habit of barging into her room each morning and dragging her out of bed so they could be on their way. This morning was no different. The door burst open. Crockett entered.

“Time to leave,” he growled. “I sent a messenger to the Jackal. He’s expecting us in London tonight.”

Lara raised up on her elbows. Her head started to spin. “I don’t feel well.”

Crockett grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Ye haven’t been hurt yet but yer trying my patience.”

“Who is the Jackal and what does he want with me?”

“Ye’ll find out soon enough. I had the cook wrap up something for ye to eat in the coach. Come along, now, no dawdling.”

Lara was hustled downstairs and into the coach. Crockett climbed in after her and thrust a greasy cloth sack into her hands. “Eat, it may be all ye’ll get for a while.”

The smell made Lara nauseous. She set the sack aside. “I’m not hungry.”

Crockett shrugged. “Suit yerself.”

The day dragged by endlessly. Lara knew they were getting close to London for she recognized familiar landmarks. She was hungry, but she still couldn’t stomach the food Crockett had offered.

Lara hugged the secret of Julian’s child to herself, aware of the pressure on her to save the innocent babe she carried. She wanted this child fiercely, and hoped Julian would want it once she told him. Perhaps having a baby with her would be exactly what Julian needed to finally relegate Diana to his past, where she belonged.

An ominous darkness shrouded the streets of London as the coach lumbered toward the waterfront. Lara knew instinctively that the section of town through which they traveled was one of the worst London had to offer. Prostitutes openly plied their trade on street corners and footpads prowled for likely victims. Warehouses interspersed with disreputable saloons lined the litter-strewn streets, and the smell of rotting garbage mixed with tangy salt air assaulted Lara’s senses.

“Where are you taking me?” Lara asked.

“Where ye’ll be safe while we wait for Scorpion to show up.”

“What makes you think he’ll show up? Maybe you’ve got the wrong man.”

Crockett sent her a knowing grin. “He’ll show up.”

The coach pulled into the yawning maw of a dark alley and rattled to a stop. Lara looked out the window at a blank wooden wall.

“What is this place?”

Crockett opened the door and stepped down. Then he grasped Lara’s arm and pulled her out of the coach. A rat scurried past; Lara shrieked in surprise. Bile rose in her throat; the stench was nearly unbearable.

“Come along with ye,” Crockett said, all but dragging her down the alley.

Lara feared they were going to murder her and leave her body for the rats. Then she saw Crockett push open a door she hadn’t noticed before and she breathed a little easier.

He pulled her forward and sent her through the opening. “In ye go, wench.”

Dorks, having found a lantern somewhere, pushed past them to light their way. The glow revealed an abandoned warehouse. The room was cavernous. The play of shadow and light against the filthy walls made it appear sinister and foreboding. Empty boxes and crates lay haphazardly about. The musty smell of mold and rotting wood nearly gagged her.

“Keep moving,” Crockett said.

He prodded her across the room to a closed door. Flinging it open, he shoved her inside. Lara stumbled and fell, catching herself with her hands to cushion the fall. She scrambled to her knees.

“Ye’ll be safe enough here,” Crockett growled.

“You’re going to leave me here?”

“For the time being. I don’t know what the Jackal has planned for ye once he gets rid of Scorpion. I doubt he’ll let ye live. Ye know too much about his operation.”

“Julian won’t walk into the Jackal’s trap. He’s too smart.”

He laughed. “Tell that to the Jackal. I’m going back to sea soon. Smuggling is what I do best.” Still laughing, he headed out the door.

“Wait! Don’t leave me in the dark.”

Crockett considered her request, then spoke to Dorks. Dorks disappeared, returning moments later with another lantern. He set it down on an upturned crate.

Lara’s voice rose on a note of panic. “When can I expect the Jackal?” She didn’t want to stay in this place. She didn’t want to lure Julian to his death. She had to escape.

“He’ll arrive when he’s good and ready.” Dorks handed Crockett the sack of food Lara had rejected that morning and he set it next to the lantern. “Here’s something in case ye get hungry. Mayhap ’twill be more to yer liking when hunger gnaws at yer innards.”

Lara swallowed hard against the panic rising in her chest as Crockett and Dorks exited and slammed the door behind them. The scrape of a wooden bar being lowered into place sent a bolt of fear through her. What if the Jackal didn’t come? Would this warehouse become her tomb? Her hands flew to her stomach. No! She wouldn’t accept death meekly. She’d live to give Julian his child.

Lara was so exhausted she couldn’t think straight. The trip to London had been grueling. Gathering her reserves, she picked up the lantern and conducted a thorough search of the room. It appeared to have once been an office, for a rickety desk and broken chair still remained. Two wooden crates sat beneath a window that had been boarded up. More crates were scattered about the room.

Lara sat down on one of the crates to think. The window was too high up for her to reach, even if she could knock out the boards nailed across it. She eyed the crates beneath it with speculation. She could reach the window if she stood on the crate, she reflected, but that still didn’t solve her problem. There seemed to be nothing available to use as a battering ram against the window.

Tired, so very tired. Perhaps if she rested for a bit she’d be able to come up with an idea. Pushing the two crates together, she lay down and closed her eyes. Sleep came almost immediately.