AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Every sense in his own body grew heightened, alerting him to the threat. After so many years, he’d honed his nature to recognize trouble, and it was there in the form of this hulking man who was growing more agitated by the second. However, Valentine couldn’t tell if he was more agitated becauseshehad noticed the signs of danger and was about to act or whether the instincts were his own. Both, probably.
“I believe, sir, you have me confused with someone else. I am not in possession of any list.” She paused, a thoughtful, calm stare returning to the man. Her posture had changed again. Instead of being rounded with submission, it had become straight and keen like a knife edge, as though crossing her would get a man slashed to ribbons. Who was this girl? “However, if you have a message for the Kestrel, please let me know.”
“The fuckin’ what?”
The man took the words right out of Valentine’s mouth. Surely he didn’t hear that right? Brain whirling, his mouth fell open. Lady Bronwyn was in league with the Kestrel? Had she met with him on the ship? The questions raced through his head like wildfire. Had the Kestrel been one of the young bucks she’d been flirting with, and he’d somehow not noticed because he’d been insensibly distracted byher?
“Never mind,” she said coolly and placed both hands on the table to show she wasn’t a threat, but the man’s aggressive mien didn’t change.
This was going to go sour very quickly.
Just as Valentine made the decision to intervene—he’d come up with some plausible story as to why he was there—the table between them went flying as the lady flipped it, clipping her companion in the face and dousing him in a tankard three-quarters-full of ale. The man shoved upward with a roar, crashing into the man behind him in the process, and within seconds, pandemonium erupted into a bar brawl. Fists and curses flew in tandem.
In the commotion, Valentine saw Bronwyn duck under a meaty arm that reached for her, nearly catching on the back of her coat, as she slid into a narrow servants’ hallway that led to the back of the establishment.
Punching out blindly at the two drunks who tried to block his way, he shoved past the throng of surging, flailing bodies and followed where she’d disappeared into the narrow hallway that lead out to a filthy alley. But she was gone, nothing but a hint of cinnamon and apples left on the wind. Curse his luck that he hadn’t been closer.
Reaching for the pistols clipped into the holsters at his hips, Valentine took off.
She couldn’t have gotten too far.
Six
“Oy, little bunny rabbit,” a voice called from behind Bronwyn. “Where’re you runnin’ to?”
Damn and blast! Of course there would have been others waiting. He’d said as much:We know you have it. Bronwyn lengthened her stride, her lungs screaming in her chest. She’d been smart to put on the gentlemen’s clothing beneath the heavy coat that she had discarded as soon as she’d begun running. She had learned the hard way that a lady’s gown led to much less economy of movement, especially when fleeing for one’s life. And she definitely was doing just that at the moment.
That man from the tavern was most certainly not Miss Mary Richards.
And even if Mary had sent him in her stead, he had not known Wentworth’s secret code they had agreed upon to confirm each other’s identity. It was a rather simple question about the quality of the hops in the ale, and he had looked at her as if she were daft. That had been the first clue. His appearance had unnerved her, not to mention the way he’d scrutinized her like an insect he wanted to squash under his boot. Every warning bell in her body had rung from the moment he’d sat down, but she hadn’t wanted to misjudge someone on account of their appearance.
War made strangers and monsters of everyone.
As the minutes had crawled by, however, she’d realized that somehow she’d been found out. How, she did not know. She hoped that poor Miss Richards was not in harm’s way or hadn’t been hurt and forced to give up any information that might hurt her. That man didn’t look like he had a kind bone in his body, and Bronwyn had no doubt he would have done dreadful things had he gotten his hands on either of them. Had he come tokillher? Her blood ran cold.
Clenching her teeth, she willed her legs to pump faster, the soles of her shoes snapping against the gravel of the road. She had no idea where she was going, tearing down darkened street after darkened street. Unlike London, this wasn’t familiar territory, after all, but if she could find a safe place to hide, then she could figure out her next steps. For now, she had to avoid her pursuers. If they caught her, she was dead. Or worse. She didn’t want to become a sorry casualty in a hole somewhere.
She cursed again.
Why hadn’t she left a note for Cora, letting her know where she was going?
It wasn’t that she didn’t usually do that, but tonight she had been preoccupied, her nerves nearly shot to death. Her confidence that Rawley might be present and watching her every move hadn’t helped either. It was almost as if a part of her had expected the adept islander to follow her. She had foolishly hoped he would.
A stupid,stupidassumption on her part while she was in a foreign country meeting with unfamiliar people…and now she was going to pay a horrific price for the mistake. Her lungs were going to collapse in her chest, her breath streaming white fog from the deepening chill in the crisp air. Every muscle in her body burned from exertion.
There!
A slab of wood lay open on one hinge, leading to an underground space. From what she could tell, it looked like a root cellar—the kind that merchants or farmers stored food and produce in to keep them cool. She could hide in there. The streets were deserted and quiet, but beyond this residential-looking square, the area opened up into the docks and that would be much too exposed for her liking.
No, she had to hide here and pray for some luck. Running toward the opening that some good soul had forgotten to close, she climbed down the crude, uneven steps and pulled the door shut, enclosing herself in darkness but for a meager sliver of light through the crack. Bronwyn tried to ease her breaths as best as she could, the panting sounds sawing through her throat loud and harsh in the quiet. She dug in her pockets for the pistol she carried, feeling its comforting weight in her palm. At least, she was armed. The small weapon was only good for one shot, but she’d make it count if she had to.
It would have been so easy to shoot the man in the tavern, and she had almost done so, but getting arrested and detained was not part of the plan. Not while she didn’t know who she could trust. The sound of clopping footsteps echoed beyond the doors, and Bronwyn held her breath. There had to be at least two men from the number of footfalls. Maybe more. They went past as she had hoped they would, but she didn’t move. Not yet. It was a good thing she waited, too, because those same treads returned, only slower. Bronwyn strained her ears, wishing she could see, but she didn’t dare move.
“Come out, li’l darlin’,” a gravelly voice called out much too close to her hiding spot. “We won’t hurt you.”
“She’s gone, Carl.”
“Little bunny was fast.”
