Captain and a Corset (26 page)

“I wouldn’t have thought you were a man more interested in listening than doing, Doctor.”

Jordon Camden stepped out of a darkened doorway and offered Nerval a half bow.

“What interests me is the production of another Navigator. I am not paying for the possibility that that female is carrying if she spends the night alone.”

“As thick as the doors are, they might well be arguing.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “I very much doubt it. They could barely keep their hands off one another in the ballroom.”

“I concede the point.”

“Only because you came to make certain of the facts too,” the doctor accused. “You have really no use for either of them. Why are you here?”

Jordon smiled at the doctor. “I always have an interest in profit, and there is profit to be made here. I promise you I will be bidding against you. But feel free to underestimate me.”

It would do him no good. Dr. Nerval made his way down the hallway to the rooms he’d been provided. No good at all. He would have the Navigator his actions had created. Failure was not an option. He was a Helikeian and only the best were allowed to survive.

***

Decima Talaska sat at the window of the room she’d rented for the night. It wasn’t modern or even in good repair, but it had a fine view of a tavern across the street. She sat in darkness, so she might watch the residents of the village without their knowledge. It was frustrating not to be able to walk among them, but a stranger would have been noticed.

Still, there were details to take in—the type of clothing the women wore, the way the men toasted one another, and a hundred other things. It was a skill she’d had since she was a child, noticing details. It was the core of her success as a Hunter Guardian. She saw the little things that so many others overlooked. They might form a trail or, in this case, offer her the opportunity to blend in.

“Planning to try and replace the morning delivery boys?”

She jumped and bit back a curse. Lykos was already too sure of himself for her to let him know he’d startled her.

“Since the prince is planning an auction and seems to enjoy lavish displays, I suspect his kitchens will be taking in supplies at dawn.”

“We are no match for the number of guards the man has.”

“Which leaves us trickery,” she informed him.

“A skill you are accomplished at, I admit.” Lykos spoke in a tone rich with praise.

He leaned against the window frame and looked out at the revelers below. Decima eyed him warily, far too aware of his presence. It was simply a response triggered from the approaching battle. That was all. And she would not think about it anymore.

A ripping sound woke her. Sophia opened her eyes, but the room was still dark. The candles had been pinched out, but with her altered sight, she could see the residue of light in the room. The ripping came again.

“Is it time?” she asked, her mind clearing instantly. She should have been tired, but the anxiety of the past day made her far past ready for freedom. “Have the hounds gone in?”

“They will soon. Get dressed.” Bion tore another strip off a bed curtain and added it to the rope he was making. “Wear something, well—”

“Besides the petticoat?” she offered as she found her chemise and shrugged into it.

He nodded, his focus on the rope. Sophia opened the wardrobe and searched through it.

“Your eyes have finished their transformation.” Bion spoke softly from behind her, a touch of envy in his tone.

“Yes.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “It’s really quite amazing, I’ll never kick the bedpost in the middle of the night. You’ll see soon.”

For a moment his hands were still, his attention locked on her. “Thank you.” He knotted the rope again but stopped and looked back at her. “I never said that, but I should have.”

“Even if it’s landed you on an auction block?”

His teeth flashed at her as he pulled another knot tight. “Even if it ends with us breaking our necks as we climb out of the window, because I’ll be double damned if I’ll waste the chance you’ve provided to try and escape.”

There was hope in his tone and his actions. She watched him continue working, then turned back to find something to wear. She’d go out the window in her chemise if she had to.

She wasn’t going to waste her opportunity either.

***

Decima was frustrated. But at least she was faring better than Lykos. Her partner was currently fighting to maintain his composure as they chased down one false lead after another. No one was sure who provided the morning milk to the prince’s estate. The duty seemed to be passed around like a chore because the prince would decide how much he was willing to pay and there was no room for bargaining.

“It seems we’re at a crossroads.”

Lykos angled his head and glared at her. “How so?”

“We can reserve our funds for the auction or use some of them to provision a wagon and deliver it to the prince’s holdings,” Decima said. “But if we buy the provisions—”

“We’ll not have enough gold left to defeat the other clients,” Lykos finished.

He scowled, but Decima expected her own expression was just as dark. They would have to make a decision and Bion and Sophia’s fate would hang in the balance.

***

Captain Aetos rose early. The maid he’d enjoyed during the night rubbed her eyes, then gathered up her clothing. He stretched and reached for his pants. The sun was just beginning to brighten the horizon. He frowned as he looked back at the rumpled bed. A few more hours of rest would be most welcome, but he wanted to get back in the air by sunset.

He’d have to commence with tying up the loose ends of his business dealings. Beyond the gates of the main house were the village and a bustling marketplace. Traders came through the village from the Far East as well as Europe. There might even be merchandise from Africa this time of year. The nobility of Russia liked spending their money on treasures, but they rarely left their land for fear of being suspected of treason.

Surely there would be something appropriate to settle his account with Jordon Camden, even if he didn’t care for just how the man had kept his end of the deal. For a moment Aetos indulged his anger. Jordon Camden had done exactly what he’d said he’d do and not one thing more. He’d tracked Bion and Sophia and given him the information and then sold it to a dozen other interested parties. It was a betrayal, at least to Aetos’s way of thinking. There was one thing Jordon Camden could count on and that was that Aetos didn’t suffer being played for a fool. But he’d still get the man his gift because vengeance was far better when it was unexpected. Aetos finished dressing and checked his pistol before hiding it in the interior pocket of his vest.

No one need know that Aetos was going to enjoy knifing the man in the back just as soon as an opportunity presented itself. Until then, he’d be finding the gift Jordon had demanded.

***

There was a sharp whistle in the distance. Bion leaned out of the window as the dogs began to bark. They were moving away from the main house; the next whistle came from further away. Bion nodded, his body tensing.

“Don’t look down.”

“I’ll look where I please, since these might be my last moments among the living,” Sophia groused.

Praying
might
serve
you
better
than
being
snippy.
She sucked in a deep breath. It was only one floor.

Plenty
high
enough
to
kill
you, girl.

“I suppose I can’t take exception to your tone.” Bion scanned the yard once again before tossing their rope down the side of the building.

“Because it saves you the trouble of trying to decide how to talk me into following you?”

He gave the rope a yank and the bed remained solidly in place. The look he gave her was rich with challenge. “I expect Grace O’Malley to have no problem following.”

He shot her a grin and a wink before he went through the window, the rope pulling tight as it supported his weight. The edges of the horizon were pink. Soon there would be too much light for them to make it down the expanse of the wall without being seen. Sophia poked her head out and swallowed to force a lump down her throat.

If she were going to die, she’d go out like a pirate queen.

The rope Bion had fashioned was easy to hook her hands into. She swung her leg over the windowsill, but the side of the house was slick. She lodged the tip of her boot into a groove between bricks and ordered herself to leave the house behind.

Bion was right; she shouldn’t look down. But her pride refused to allow her to heed his advice. She was suddenly grateful for every sore, aching muscle her Asian fighting class had given her because she needed the strength she had built up. Her arm shook but she took one step and then another down the side of the house. The distance was no more than that of crossing a bedchamber but it seemed to take forever. Her heart was racing and sweat popped out on her forehead. She had to slide her feet along the smooth surface of the stone wall because the riding skirt she’d found to wear kept trying to get under her boot heels. Her fingers began to ache and it seemed as though the sun was rising impossibly fast.

“Almost there,” Bion whispered from below.

She was panting but moved her feet a few more steps. At last Bion reached up and caught her. She wasn’t even willing to quibble about the fact that he grabbed her hips in a far too intimate fashion for out of doors.

They were outside!

She drew in a breath and savored the feeling of the earth beneath her feet. “We did it.”

“Not yet we haven’t.” Bion’s voice was edged with urgency. “It won’t take them more than an hour to see that rope.”

He clasped her hand and tugged her around the back of the house. He slipped along the wall and she mimicked him. The chickens were waking up, the rooster beginning to crow. Behind the main house the stables stood in the predawn light. The master of the hounds was shepherding his charges inside, the animals eager to be fed.

Someone struck a bell in the distance, the sharp sound carrying through the morning stillness.

“That will be the watch changing at the gate.”

A few moments later, there was the steady sound of marching feet as the men who had manned the gate returned to the barrack buildings. The back doors of the kitchen opened, two youths appearing with their hands full. One carried an iron pot with steam rising from its top while the other balanced a huge pitcher. Behind them a younger boy hauled a basket of freshly baked bread. They trudged toward the long, low building the guards had disappeared into.

“That will keep them occupied for half an hour.” Bion pulled a small pocket watch from his vest pocket and noted the time.

Sophia scanned the area around them, desperate to find somewhere to hide. Dawn was still breaking, but it felt like high noon on an August day.

“Here,” Bion announced at last. He pulled her a few more feet toward the kitchen doors, then reached down to lift a small trapdoor.

She hurried inside, crouching down to fit through the entrance. The air was musty and stale, but she could make out the shelves that lined the walls. The air was chilly, which would keep the food stores fresh and she hugged her arms to keep warm.

“Now we wait.” Bion’s voice was hard. There was no going back for him and she realized she felt the same. He kept the door to the root cellar open just an inch or two. They watched the boys return to the kitchen, their feet kicking up dust as they stomped the dirt loose on the steps.

The light was increasing and all they could do was wait. She was straining to hear the sound of an approaching wagon. Every second seemed to last for hours.

She jumped when it came. She was so desperate for escape that Sophia doubted what her ears were telling her. She pressed her face closer to the opening and peered out into the dusky morning light.

“Your sight is better than mine. What is it?”

She blinked, forcing herself to believe what she saw. “A wagon. Oh yes, Bion… and it has a cover over the back of it.”

She was so happy she shook, but Bion didn’t share her joy.

“Let’s hope they unload quickly. If not, it won’t take them long to find us here.”

She looked behind her. The shelves were only half full. No, it wouldn’t take long at all.

***

Mr. Graves whistled, then stopped, realizing what he was doing. It had been a mighty long time since he’d felt merry enough to whistle a tune while he worked. His new employer was perched behind the counter of his stall as Graves continued to set up the boxes of spices the man had for sale. There were cloves and cinnamon and their scents reminded Graves of his mother’s kitchen.

He whistled again, remembering the song his mother had so often sung to him. He felt younger than he had in a long time; freedom seemed to be a magical tonic. There were men who would call him foolish for giving up his rank among the crew of the Soiled Dove, but he was more than content with his choice. He’d happily remain a lowly merchant’s man.

“Exotic birds Camden can get. The man lives in the Ottoman Empire.”

Graves froze, his blood chilling at the sound of the familiar voice. He looked past the boxes he’d just stacked and felt his eyes widen. Captain Aetos walked among the stalls, members of his crew trailing behind him.

It was fate coming to get him, all his misdeeds refusing to be left behind. He didn’t deserve happiness. His hand gripped the small box he held so tightly that the wood cracked. The sound drew his attention and when he looked back up, Aetos had moved on.

Graves set the box down, his arms shaking as sweat dotted his brow. How in the hell had he gotten so lucky? He couldn’t find a reason, which left him with the sure knowledge that a reckoning was coming.

He certainly deserved it.

***

“We’ll have to make a run for it.”

Even if Bion’s voice had held hope, Sophia doubted she would have placed any faith in it. There were just too many opportunities for failure.

But she mustn’t dwell on that. No, it would be better to feel the strength in Bion’s grip as he prepared to leave the root cellar behind. There was plenty of light now, maybe not full daylight but enough for anyone to spot them. She drew in a deep breath and tried to muster her courage.

“Let’s go.”

He cut her a sidelong glance and she stared straight back at him. “I’ll be right behind you,” she promised.

He nodded and lifted the cellar door. They climbed out and hurried across the distance toward the wagon. Inside the kitchen, the sound of people moving about drifted out the open door. Outside, someone was arguing with the owner of the wagon over the price as the rest of the kitchen staff scurried inside to escape it.

Bion climbed up into the back of the delivery wagon with one long step, pulling her along with him. The cover that had protected the goods from dust was pushed toward the back of the bed. Sophia knocked her shin as she followed Bion but she didn’t slow down. Pain shot up her leg as she crawled down the bed of the wagon and beneath the thick cover Bion held up for her. It smelled of road dirt and spoiled milk, but she decided it was the best scent in the world.

They were huddled in the corner and she realized Bion’s jaw was clenched. Of course it was; he wasn’t one who hid from trouble. But there was nothing for it. The driver muttered something in Russian that Sophia didn’t need translated. Profanity had a tone that was universal.

The driver climbed up onto the seat and set the horses in motion. The wagon swayed as it turned in a circle and began the trek back to the gates. It was so simple, yet every second felt like an hour. All of her senses were heightened as they neared the gate and it opened.

She shivered with happiness and Bion squeezed her hand in response. Hope filled her as the wagon continued on its way, no shout for it to stop coming. It seemed too good to be true.

Which was what frightened her most.

***

Captain Aetos didn’t like being on the ground too long. His temper was being tested as he walked through the stalls of the marketplace. He had more important things to do than buy gifts for a spoiled businessman. But offending Jordon Camden meant losing an important contact.

The morning was well underway as he continued to pass stalls because their merchandise seemed too common. Everything was beginning to blur as he became more frustrated with the need to procure something before the auction time arrived.

He checked his watch and growled. It would have to wait. Aetos turned to retrace his steps to where his horse was tied on the outskirts of the market.