Bound to a Spy Page 22

  “I will not. I will never do as you say.” She could keep her voice calm as well. There was an inner peace that was stealing over her. It was a strange sensation because she knew her life was in very grave danger yet she would not go down without a fight. If there was one thing Turners knew, it was how to fight back.

  “Oh, my dear.” He stepped toward her, then around her so that he approached from the side. She turned to him, knowing to always have her enemy in front of her. “You will learn quickly. Trust me.”

  She looked at him steadily, and she could see in the flicker of his eyes that she confused him. She was not acting as she should. She was not showing fear. She was not cowering and he did not know what to do about that.

  “You have stolen me away from Holyrood at the behest of the queen to silence the knowledge I have of a conspiracy to kill the king. Your plan is to wed me, then murder me. I will not comply. I will not behave. I will not be silenced.”

  “Oh, you will,” he said, edging closer.

  Rose didn’t want to move away from him. She wanted to stand firm and face him but she also had a sense of self-preservation. Idly she wondered if Margaret had spoken to Will, if Will knew what had happened and if he was on his way to save her.

  At the same time she knew that only she could save herself. She couldn’t rely on outside sources to sweep her out of this. She had only herself.

  She didn’t move away fast enough. His hand arched out and backhanded her across the cheek, causing her head to whip to the side and making her gasp.

  He smiled.

  Her cheek was numb, her mind shocked, but she stood her ground and stared him in the eye. “You may beat me,” she said. “But I will fight back.”

  His hand moved toward her, and she couldn’t help herself. She flinched and he laughed. “We shall see who will be the victor here.”

  “It might be you,” she said. “But you will not walk away without wounds, I assure you.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “You’re a cheeky bitch.”

  “And you’re a conniving bastard.”

  Fury turned his face a dark red, and he grabbed her shoulder with one hand as he slapped her across the other cheek with the other. He hit her again and again until her ears were ringing. She heard someone yelling but it was a moment before she realized it was her. Screaming. She was screaming, and he was yelling at her to shut up but she wouldn’t.

  “Kill me now,” she screamed over and over. “Kill me now.”

  She was certain the entire establishment could hear her and by the look in his eyes he knew it too.

  He dragged her to the bed and ripped off the top bedsheets with his free hand. She fought him, hitting him with her fist but the blows fell ineffectually on his back. She kicked but she used her bare foot and it did nothing but hurt her, not him.

  He threw her on the bed and she rolled away from him, was almost to the other side before he pounced on her, pushing her face-first into the soiled, rank-smelling mattress until her nose and mouth were covered. She bucked, terror overtaking her. She was going to suffocate. He was going to snuff the life out of her and she was going to die in this no-name inn in the middle of nowhere Scotland on a dirty bed. She was screaming but no one could hear her because her mouth was pressed into the mattress. She tried to draw in air but only managed to suck the bottom bedsheet into her mouth, causing her to panic more.

  Lysle flipped her over and pulled her arms above her. She drew in a much needed breath and bucked against him, using her legs as best she could but he was tying her wrists together. He knotted the other end of the cord he’d taken from the curtains to the bedpost.

  “You’re a bastard,” she said and screamed as loud as she could, knowing no one would save her but feeling better for it. If she died here those men out there would have the weight of her soul on their shoulders for the rest of their lives, and it gave her some pleasure to know that she had cursed them with that at least.

  “Shut up,” Lysle said wearily. “No one here is going to save you. I will pay the proprietor so much money that he can retire and live a life of ease.”

  He tugged hard on the rope to make sure it would stay. Rose kicked him, landing a solid blow to his midsection. He sucked in a deep breath of pain, grabbed her foot and twisted it until she cried out. It felt as if her bones were grinding against each other, and she had no doubt that Lysle had every intention of shattering her foot.

  “Do it,” she said between clenched teeth.

  “You are mad.” He released her foot and backed away as if he were frightened of her.

  “You picked the wrong lass to wed,” she said with a tight smile. “I pray you regret your decision.”

  He looked around the room then down at the bedsheets lying on the floor. He grabbed one and tore a strip off then tied it around her mouth. She saw him coming and knew his intention, attempting to foil his plan by whipping her head back and forth, but there was little she could do and he quickly knotted it in the back, catching strands of her hair in the knot and pulling them.

  He stepped back. She glared at him and tried to kick him but he was standing too far away with a smug look and—dare she hope?— a little bit of relief in his eyes.

  He opened the lone window, turned to give one long considering look at her skirts rucked up past her knees and her bare legs. There was a glint in his eyes that made her tremble. If he decided to take her now there was not much she could do about it. Everyone would ignore her screams. After all, a husband could do what he liked to his wife. She would be helpless.

  The feeling didn’t sit well with her, but she also knew that at some point he would have to untie her and let her leave this bed and that was when she would have her revenge.

  She glared at him, daring him to do what he wanted. He looked into her eyes, blanched and walked out of the room, leaving her uncovered, the bitter air blowing in and causing her to shiver.

  Chapter 30

  Will had been enjoying that quiet time of the day when the sun was beginning to set, the animals were preparing to hibernate for the night and there was a hush to the air that one could only feel at that certain time.

  Much to Will’s relief Thom had stopped talking a while ago and the four of them had fallen into a comfortable silence. They were still riding hard, but not hard enough to tire or injure the horses. Will thought a lot about Rose, and the urge to move faster was still there but the panic had abated some. Being with the Turners, who seemed supremely confident in “their” Rose, as they referred to her, and even more confident in their ability to save her, helped focus his mind.

  They weren’t far from her. Will had never been in this part of Scotland before and had no idea where he was but he knew that they were close to her. It was a strange feeling, being so connected to someone.

  “You’re from England, eh?” Thom asked into the silence. Like Rose he did not possess the deep Scottish burr of the Highlands. His speech was closer to English.

  “I am.”

  Thom grunted and Will guessed it was not a pleased grunt, but he couldn’t help where he was from.

  “Mates with Darnley?” Thom asked.

  “We went to school together.”

  “You in Scotland for the baptism?”

  “I’ve been in Scotland for a few months and planned to stay for the baptismal festivities.”

  Thom’s mount carefully picked his way through heavy ground covering. Will followed. When they came abreast of each other again Thom continued the probing into Will’s background. Will wasn’t alarmed. He was accustomed to such questioning, and he was comfortable with the story that he and Queen Elizabeth had created.

  “Where will you go after the festivities?” Thom said the word “festivities” as if it amused him.

  “Maybe back to England. Maybe elsewhere.”

  Thom glanced at him. “You have no obligations back home?”

  “Nay.”

  “You’re an interesting man, Sheffield.”

 
“Oh?” He deliberately made his tone noncommittal and studied the landscape in front of them. They’d been riding parallel to a road, or dirt track would be a better description. They hadn’t seen any other person for hours. It was as if they were at the end of the world, the only people left.

  “There is more to you than you want people to know. You’re tightfisted with information about yourself.”

  “Because there is not much to tell. I’m an only child. My father was an advisor to Queen Mary and my mother was a lady-in-waiting.”

  Thom grunted. Will was beginning to hate that sound because it could mean so many different things.

  “When you approached my home, I could tell that you’ve seen combat.”

  “Not formal combat. Maybe a brawl here and there.” There was truth in that at least. He’d never fought with the queen’s army but he had been involved in many fistfights and brawls.

  “You’re watchful, patient, aware. Like I said, more to you than meets the eye. A spy, maybe.”

  Will laughed, so startled by Thom’s correct conclusion that he couldn’t stop himself.

  “My parents would be amused that you think that of me. They believe me a ne’er-do-well.” He was improvising here, not panicked that Thom was so close to the truth, but also not completely calm.

  “I’ve seen a lot in my life, learned to size people up, and I got your measure as soon as I saw you. Does Rose know?”

  Will’s mind whirled. Like Thom, he too was a good reader of people and was accurate more often than not. His gut was telling him to trust this man.

  “Nay,” he said softly.

  Thom’s wide shoulders seemed to sag a bit. “You bloody bastard. Did you drag her into this mess?”

  Will gave a surprised snort. “She dragged me into this mess. I was minding my business along with the business of the damn lords plotting their murder when Rose stumbled across it and overheard everything. Ever since then I’ve been trying to keep up with my duties and keep her safe. She’s a tough lass to keep safe.”

  Thom’s eyes narrowed. “Somehow I believe you when you say that. You know Rose well, then.”

  “I know she’s hardheaded and softhearted.”

  “Like her mother.”

  “I see the resemblance. I also see the resemblance between you and Rose.”

  “She’s a good one, she is. The best.”

  Will let the silence fall between them, silently agreeing. Rose was the best. The best woman he’d ever met.

  “Are you worried about her?” Will asked softly.

  Thom blew out a breath and seemed to think about it. “Have you seen her angry, son? Not irritated or frustrated but really, truly angry?”

  Will thought about that for some time. “I guess not.”

  “You don’t want to either. Trust me. She’s a sight to behold. Locked her brothers in a closet because they were bothering her, she said.” He hitched his thumb backward to indicate his oldest son. “Gave that one a black eye after he was the one to teach her to punch. She’s…formidable. I think that’s the right word. And downright frightening. It’s the red hair.”

  Will thought it was less the red hair and more that she was the only girl amongst five boys and had to fight for every bit of freedom she possessed.

  “So are you saying that Lysle doesn’t have a chance against her?”

  “Nay. He’s still a man and stronger than her, but he can’t give her any opportunity. If he does he’ll regret it. She’ll fight back, I have no doubt. But in the end?” Thom’s voice trailed away. “In the end only God will determine who will survive.”

  A chill ran up Will’s spine, and he shivered as if someone had walked over his grave. God’s will that Rose would be the survivor in this. God’s will that they make it to her in time.

  Thom stiffened suddenly. He held up a fist, a universal sign that they were all to stop and be quiet. Instantly on alert Will scanned the land in front of them, seeing nothing. But the night creatures had stopped shuffling around, and it was eerily quiet.

  “Come out,” Thom said softly.

  There was nothing for the longest time. No movement, nothing but the quiet shushing of Will’s suspended breath. And then two faces appeared out of the tall grass on either side of the road and two lads emerged and approached.

  “Rabbie,” Thom said. “Paden.”

  These were the lads that Thom had sent ahead of them to locate Rose and report back? They were far too young to be partaking in something like this.

  But they approached Thom without fear and with a little bit of swagger that impressed Will despite his surprise.

  “What have you learned, lads?”

  “Just up the road,” the one named Rabbie—clearly the older of the two—said. “There’s an inn. That’s where she is.”

  A surge of excitement raced through Will and he tensed. Thom put a staying arm out as if he sensed that Will was ready to pounce now.

  “Did you see her?” Thom asked.

  Rabbie shook his head. “But I saw the queen’s guards.” He was clearly impressed by the guards. His eyes shined and his voice became excited.

  “How many?” Will asked.

  Rabbie spared Will a quick glance before turning back to Thom and giving his answer.

  “Six. They’re outside of the inn, as if guarding it.”

  “Is Lysle there?” Thom asked. “A lord.”

  Rabbie lifted bony shoulders and let them fall. “There’s a carriage but didn’t see nobody come in or out of it.”

  “Anyone else staying there?”

  Rabbie shook his head. “Just the man what owns it.”

  Will peered up the road as if he could see the inn from here. Everything inside of him said to go now, to save Rose, to storm the inn and take her away but he knew that was not the way to approach this. The guards were there for a purpose and that purpose was to make certain that Lysle and Rose made it to Lysle’s estate unharmed so they could marry and so Rose would be silenced.

  All the calm that Will had collected on the way evaporated. All the training he’d had over his life to practice patience, to think things through, to have a plan, vanished in the face of saving Rose.

  “Thank you, Rabbie. You did well, lad.”

  Rabbie smiled, motioned to his brother and they disappeared back into the tall grass. A few moments later the two boys reappeared with two small, hardy-looking ponies. They mounted the ponies and Thom began following them.

  Will hurried to catch up to Thom. “Surely, we won’t be taking the boys with us,” he said quietly.

  “How else will we find this inn and our Rose?”

  “Maybe the boys can tell us where to go?”

  “And leave them behind?” Thom sounded surprised.

  “You don’t think they’re too young?” Will asked, watching the slim backs of the lads as they rode their ponies in front of them.

  Thom made a noise with his lips. “Rabbie and Paden’s mother is my sister. If she finds out I left them behind she’ll skin me alive. We’re border reivers. We learn to fight and steal early in life. This is a good opportunity for them.”

  Will added Rabbie and his brother as two more that he would need to keep his eye on and keep safe.

  They rode for another hour. The sun had gone down, and snow started blowing as the winter wind picked up. Thom had taken the lead when they ventured off the path and dove deeper into the forest. By some unspoken command that Will missed, everyone stopped and slid off their mounts.

  “What are you doing?” Will asked, still astride his mount.

  “Bunking down for the night,” Thom said as he took his bedroll off the back of his saddle.

  “Bunking down? But we’re close. We need to save Rose.”

  “We can’t just ride in and steal her away. We need to know what we’re facing. We need to observe.”

  While Will knew Thom was right he was not pleased that they were stopping for the night. He wanted to attack now. But that was his heart talking. His
head said to listen to Thom. He could only hope that Rose would stay safe for a few more hours.

  Chapter 31

  Rose shivered throughout the long, dark night with the open window and no coverings. She tried as best she could to pull her skirts down by wriggling on the bed but was only able to move them a few inches. The cold had entered her bones, making her teeth chatter.

  Her arms were tied above her head with the cord from the curtains and she’d quickly lost feeling in her hands. The numbness crept down to her wrists, her elbows and then there was shooting pain in her shoulders until she cried with it, silent tears that dripped down her cold cheeks, chin and neck, making her even colder. Her mouth, tied with the strip of bedsheet, had long ago dried out. Swallowing was painful and she was so thirsty that when she did sleep fitfully she dreamed of fast-moving creeks and large lakes.

  She awoke so stiff that it made her groan.

  Overnight a brisk winter breeze had blown up. The moon was full and bright and she watched snowflakes dance through the window and bob through the cold air.

  She wanted to lose hope, in the dark of the night. Her mind wanted her to give up but her heart wouldn’t let her. That fierce Scottish stubbornness took hold of her and refused to let go, refused to let her give in, give up.

  To keep her mind off her pain, her wracked, shivering body, she thought of all the ways she wanted to kill Lord Lysle and what she would do to him when he untied her.

  If he unties you.

  She shook her head, pushing the thought away. He would return. He must, for the queen had commanded that he wed her.

  Wed you and kill you.

  She couldn’t deny that.

  Her days were numbered if she didn’t escape—or kill Lysle herself.

  When her thoughts became too dark she thought of Will. While she hoped that Margaret had told him Rose was missing, she also did not want him to see her like this—abandoned, tied to a bed. Helpless. But she was also pragmatic enough to know that if he walked through that door right now she would cry in joy and relief.

  And then, in the deepest, darkest part of the night, when all thoughts turned inward and everything seemed as if it couldn’t possibly get worse, she wondered what would happen if no one came to save her. What if Will didn’t care enough? What if Margaret simply thought that Rose had had enough of court life and went home? What if no one noticed she was gone?