Tangled Hearts (26 page)

“I was told I could find Captain Bartholomew Wyatt at this address,” Caden announced, his voice too big for the small entryway. He sounded angry, unless that was his normal gruff speech. It did make several of the ladies retreat into the parlor.

“Why yes,” said the lady in charge, Nell, perhaps. “The good captain has leased a room above. Will you be needing a room, too? I’m afraid all of them are full.”

“We will see the captain first and then decide whether we need to find lodging,” Caden said. They followed her up the thin stairway.

“If you decide that you need a place to stay, I’m sure my girls wouldn’t mind sharing their rooms with you, for a price of course.”

The only answer was the sound of the Scotsmen’s boots on the steps. Lord, she hoped Captain Bart wasn’t entertaining one of the girls when they barged in.

“Second door,” Nell started to say, when the door opened and Dory’s father stepped out—thankfully clothed.

“Heard you when you entered the house,” Captain Bart said and brushed past Caden to hug her.

“Really,” Dory said against his rough cheek. “What would Adela think?”

“Ah, what Adela don’t know won’t trouble her.” He laughed. “Anyway, Will and I are just boarding here, not whoring here.”

Will’s deep chuckle came from the room and he stepped out. “Quite poetic.”

He began to shove his way past Caden, but the Scotsman stopped him. “I was told to find Captain Wyatt, who I assume to be that man. Who are ye?”

“God’s balls, more Scots,” Will swore. “I’m her brother—well, nearly so. We were raised together. Where’s Ewan? Did you leave the dolt?”

Dory turned on Will as her magic pulled a lightning bolt down outside the window. It cracked, causing screams to echo throughout the house. “He’s back at the tournament, probably sacrificing his honorable life to save mine, so shut your crusty, swiving hole,” she said and looked at Captain Bart.

Captain Bart nodded and looked to Caden. “He told you to bring her to me?”

“Aye. Ye will need to sneak her out of London at dark.”

“I’m not leaving without Ewan,” Dory said, her voice still raised.

“Do you know where he is?” Captain Bart asked, his eyes on her.

“He was creating a diversion so she could escape,” Caden supplied. “Searc and his father, Alec, were headed back to help him.”

Dory’s eyes welled up and she blinked.

“Were you being showy?” Captain Bart asked softly, and even though there was no disappointment in his tone she felt it in herself.

“He was shot through with an arrow from a long bow,” Caden said. “She had to heal him or he’d have died.”

“God’s balls, Dory,” Will said. “You gave yourself away before a country of witch hunters!”

“Someone shot him,” Dory defended.

“He looked like one of ye,” one of the other Highlanders said in a thick brogue and nodded to Will.

“A pirate?” Caden asked and the man nodded.

Captain Bart looked to Will. “O’Neil planted one of his crew in the stands to finish him off probably.” He turned back to Caden. “Did Ewan kill O’Neil?”

Caden paused but then shook his head. “He was injured, but I don’t believe it was life-threatening unless the slice under his arm becomes tainted.”

Captain Bart rubbed his jaw and Dory started to pace, her energy finally starting to return to normal. “We need to go back,” she mumbled but the men seemed to ignore her.

“Damn,” Will muttered. “What happened to the shooter?”

“Got away,” the Highlander said and the other one said something in Gaelic. “Gavin almost caught him, but the crowd had pulled in tight when Ewan fell. We would have injured bystanders reaching him.”

“By the devil,” Dory said. “Then he could still be out there trying to shoot Ewan again.” She turned to Caden. “I’m going back with you. He could be injured.” Or worse!

“That would only make his distraction mean nothing,” Caden countered, his face set.

Will gave a dark chuckle. “Aye, Dory, make his distraction mean nothing,” he said, referring to his foolish distraction at port to save her that had started this whole disaster.

“Shut your rat-arse-licking gob,” she snapped at Will. “I got you out of the Tower.”

The two Scotsmen looked at one another. Caden didn’t even blink.

“I suggest you tie her to a chair,” Will continued despite her order, “if you don’t want her to interfere.”

She gave him her sharpest glare. “Just try to tie me to a chair.”

Thunder cracked outside again. Caden glanced between them, and one of his eyebrows rose.

“I’ll tie her up if you’d like,” Will continued to goad her.

“Try it and I’ll slice it completely off this time,” she challenged.

One of the other Scotsmen chuckled softly. “Ye are Ewan’s woman?”

“What’s so funny?” she asked with a snarl. They were wasting precious time.

The Scotsman smiled. “Ewan doesn’t like complicated lasses and ye seem as complicated as a wildcat among kittens.” He looked to Caden with a grin. “Perhaps all Englishwomen are so.”

“We are wasting time,” she reminded them. It didn’t matter what they thought of her. They needed to find Ewan.

Caden’s firm stare stilled her pacing. “Ye will stay here.” She opened her mouth but he kept talking. “Ye will watch the wee one and stay out of trouble.”

“I’m not wee,” Margery grumbled.

“Both of ye will stay here,” Caden said, leveling his glance on Margery first and then Dory. The young girl swallowed hard and nodded.

“Donald, stay here,” Caden ordered.

Captain Bart shrugged into his long coat. “I’ll be going to reacquaint meself with the captain of the
Ebony Whore
.”

“There’s a ship called a whore?” the Scot called Donald asked.

“They call her the
Queen Anne
when in port,” Captain Bart chuckled. “And she’ll be our way out of this English cesspool even if I have to slit the captain’s throat to do it.”

Caden nodded and Captain Bart kissed Dory’s forehead. “Don’t do anything foolish, Panda, and we’ll get out of this scrape.” With that he left the room, his boots trotting down the stairway.

The Scot’s leader spoke to Donald in Gaelic, and she heard her name mentioned.

“’Tis quite rude to talk before others in a foreign language,” Dory mumbled.

Caden snorted. “The Scots are not known for their manners. Now stay here with Donald and him.” He pointed to Will, who leaned back on the simple, unmade bed. Caden and the other Scotsmen followed her father out.

Dory looked around at the sparse room. Margery sat on a wooden chair at the crude table. Donald took a stance in front of the door as if she might charge past him and he glanced nervously at the window. Perhaps she should spook him by leaning out of it.

Long moments crawled by over what was probably less than a quarter hour when hard boots crunching on pebbles outside the window drew Dory to peek around the dingy curtain.

Gaelic words came from the alley behind the establishment and Donald followed her to look out from the other side. He said something in Gaelic, but the words sounded relieved.

Dory tore the curtain back then, her eyes searching. Please let Ewan be with them! But all she saw was Searc and his father. They were arguing in low tones.

Donald called down to them and they looked up. Dory stuck her head out, Will by her side. “Where is Ewan?” she asked.

Searc met her gaze, his youthful features suddenly a decade older. “We couldn’t get him out of there. He was still fighting when… we abandoned him.”

Alec cursed and pushed against Searc’s chest so that they flattened against the building as a group of riders on horseback passed, and Donald grabbed Dory back inside. She felt numbing fear radiate out from her stomach and didn’t even try to stop the magic from swamping her as she leaned against the wall. A cold gust of icy wind blew inside, sending the simple square of cloth flanking the window flapping. Dust floated in the air as the faded rag settled.

Will yanked the blanket from the bed and draped it over her shoulders. “No twisters or lightning or they’ll know where we are.” He looked at Donald. “I think we need to do something. Those were guards riding by. They will search the public buildings, probably followed those two back here.” He jerked his head toward the open window.

Yes, they had to leave, had to try something. She refused to give up on Ewan, not if there was a chance he was still alive. “Where will they take Ewan?” Dory asked, her voice low, but completely firm.

Donald rattled off a series of Gaelic, probably curses, and gazed back out where Searc and Alec stood looking between the open end of the alley and the window. Somewhere down the street, several shouts came, followed by pounding on a door. Hell! They had to get moving.

“Searc,” Dory called softly. “Where would they take Ewan if he’d been captured?”

“Caden said not to leave,” Donald said, but even he had to know that the plan had to change. Margery came up to her shoulder and looked down at Searc, too.

“The Tower,” she said. “Everyone needing to be locked up in London is just thrown into the Tower.” Her voice dropped. “Even if they are injured.”

Donald cursed in Gaelic, looked heavenward, and rattled off more in his tongue, something about Caden and Ewan. He then crossed himself. Somehow, Dory didn’t think he was praying for them but rather for himself once Caden and Ewan found out he’d let her go to the Tower.

Dory squeezed Margery’s thin shoulders but returned to Searc’s steady, stubborn gaze. He gave a brief nod as he rattled off more Gaelic to his father. Alec Munro frowned fiercely but nodded and Dory’s heart thumped. Aye, they would brave the Tower of London once more.

Dory looked down at the street-wise girl. “Do you know a quick way to get there?” she asked.

The girl smiled broadly and nodded.

Will groaned. “God’s balls,” he cursed but hoisted himself over the wooden sill first.

…

The cell door clanged shut, adding a tone of finality to the constant dripping of foul water in the corridor. Just as before when he’d visited Captain Bart, the cold air lay thick with must tinged with the tang of urine and dung. Silence and despair filled the darkness, interrupted occasionally with a cough or groan. These certainly weren’t the accommodations afforded nobles. He was housed down with the criminals, pirates, and those the king and his advisors wished to forget.

Ewan rubbed a hand over his sore jaw and touched the sticky spot at the base of his skull where they’d cracked him unconscious with the butt of a sword, most likely. Bloody English had taken their fury out on his face. True he’d probably killed one or two, but he’d been trying to stay alive.

He shook his head and wiped at the crusty line of a cut on his cheek. When he won on the field, someone had tried to kill him from the stands. Then, when he didn’t die, Cromwell had certainly tried. Had the king’s advisor set all this in motion?

“Bloody hell,” he whispered and tugged at the metal collar they had fastened around his neck, in case, they said, he could disappear like his witch wife.

God, Dory. Had Caden gotten her to safety? After her public display, she needed to flee England as fast as possible. With so many witnesses, word would spread, details would be exaggerated, and the witch hunt would be on.

Ewan stretched the chain as far as it would allow and sat to lean against the rear wall. Wind scattered leaves beyond the barred slit in the outside wall. A few guards hurried by. He wondered if they were the same guards that Dory had totally bewitched with her flattery before.

Och… Dory. He closed his eyes and played back over the last glimpse he had of Dory. Her hair had come loose while she healed him, curls falling down around her shoulders. She’d thought nothing of herself, only him. Surely that must mean something. Even if she hadn’t claimed him back, surely that risk, that bloody foolish risk, had meant something.

He swore in Gaelic and breathed deeply. He needed rest to heal. Then he’d figure out a plan. Night fell outside the window slits, blackening the cell even further. He heard the wind pick up, scattering leaves in the bailey. A latch turned down at the far end, the door he’d been marched through.

“Supper,” a guard called and Ewan heard the squeak of a cart and clang of metal against bars. He stood, wondering if the food would make it back to him.

Slowly, the squeak crept closer. Occasionally the guard would curse, about who knew what. Perhaps the man would think the last cell was vacant.

“Hey there,” Ewan called. “Some water and food will keep me alive to hang.”

The squeak stopped, but footsteps sounded the guard’s approach. Ewan was ready to grab whatever the man threw his way. Sharp shadows stretched away from the torch the guard carried until he stopped before the door. He rattled it. More cursing, familiar cursing.

Ewan blinked to clear the blinding glare of torchlight from his eyes. Once again he stared through the bars at Will Wyatt. “Is she away? Did Caden get her away?” Ewan asked.

Will worked the lock with a long instrument. “Aye, he got her to us but she refuses to leave without you.” The lock turned in the door and Will swung inside.

“And Alec and Searc?”

“They are well, though the lad is spitting pissed that his father yanked him from the fight.”

“Searc would have died,” Ewan said.

“He seems to think differently.”

Ewan looked down the long corridor, thankful it was empty. “Where is she?” His muscles tightened. If Will was still here, Dory wasn’t away on some ship. Not yet anyway. “Where—”

“Out there causing more havoc,” Will answered and as if on cue, another guard ran by yelling about a twister.

“Bloody hell,” Ewan said as Will attacked the lock at his neck.

“What did you do to make them lock you around the neck?” Will asked.

“I didn’t die.”

Will worked for several long minutes while the metal collar dug into Ewan’s already raw skin. “I can’t get it to release,” he grumbled. “It’s a different kind of lock. The tumbler ain’t moving.”

At the other end of the dark corridor the door opened. Light footsteps came their way. Will’s mouth hissed in his ear. “She’s coming. You have to convince her to leave. She won’t unless you do, and if they catch her—”