Gregory, Lisa (33 page)

"Please
don't judge him so harshly. He's never met a woman with your spirit before, and
he doesn't quite know what to do with you."

She
slumped against the desk, her face sullen. "Oh, stop it. I don't want to
hear any more of your excuses. Just go away and leave me alone. And take that
supper tray with you; I am not hungry."

Peljo
sighed. She and the captain were a pair, all right, both as stubborn as mules,
and both blind to their true emotions. He walked across to the table and bent
down to pick up the tray, his back to her. Swiftly, Katherine raised her arm
and swung; with a heavy thud the bottle crashed into his skull. He slumped to
the floor amid the wine and broken bits of glass. Katherine bent to feel his
pulse, fearful that she had struck him too hard. Reassured that he was only
unconscious, she took one of Matthew's handkerchiefs and pressed it against his
wound to stop the bleeding. Then she took the keys from his belt, snatched up
her cloak, and scurried out of the room. She stopped long enough to lock the
door from the outside, then dropped the keys beside it. It would give her a
little extra time if he had to yell for someone to release him, but she was
afraid to buy more time by tossing the keys in the water. What if they couldn't
get him out?

She
hurried toward the gangplank, but when she reached it she was stopped by a
sailor guarding the exit. Inwardly she cursed herself for her foolishness. She
should have realized that there would be a guard at the gangplank. Why hadn't
she grabbed Peljo's gun?

"Excuse
me, ma'am," the sailor said nervously. "Uh, the captain's orders were
for you not to leave the ship."

Katherine
fixed her haughty, glacial gaze upon him. "I beg your pardon?"

The
young man cleared his throat. Damn. He was roasted either way. If he let her
go, the captain would have his hide, but neither was it wise to get the
captain's mistress set against him. "Ma'am, I can't let you pass. I'm
sorry."

"Your
loyalty is commendable, sailor, but Captain Hampton is waiting for me in
London. He sent a wire to Peljo, telling him to bring me to London to join him.
And I don't think he will be very pleased if you make me miss my train."

"I'm
sorry," he said doggedly. "But I would have to hear that from Peljo
himself."

Katherine
sighed impatiently. "Then why don't you go ask him? He's back in my cabin
getting my baggage."

The
sailor turned to go, and Katherine made a slight move toward the gangplank. The
young man caught the movement and swung back, stepping onto the plank to bar
her way. Instinctively Katherine pushed him with all her strength and he,
caught off balance, stumbled backward, teetered on the edge for a moment, and
then tumbled ingloriously into the water. Katherine picked up her skirts and
scampered down the gangplank.

At
first her only thought was to evade her pursuers, and she ran at top speed,
turning frequently. At last, however, she had to stop to catch her breath and
she realized that it was growing dark and she was lost somewhere on the
Liverpool waterfront with absolutely no idea of where to go. Sternly she forced
down the panic that rose in her. It would gain her nothing to lose her head.
Looking about her, she chose a direction and set off briskly.

As
night fell rapidly and she remained in the twisting slum streets, she found it
hard to suppress her fears. Once a drunk stumbled out of a pub and knocked into
her. She began to walk faster, and her heart raced as if it would outstrip her
feet. A sailor called out an indecent proposition to her, and she broke into a
run. Rounding a corner, she ran full-tilt against two men.

"Hey,
little girlie, where you going so fast?" one said jocularly, grasping her
arms.

"Let
me go!" She tried to twist away from him.

"Now,
you're a pretty little thing, ain't you?"

"I
would hardly call me 'little,'" she snapped at the man, who wasn't an inch
taller than she.

His
companion chuckled. "She's right there, Ned. I'd say she's a real handful."
He pinched her bottom and she shrieked indignantly.

"How
dare you! Why, you—" She tore away from the short man and began to run,
but they were on her instantly. She struggled wildly, clawing, kicking, biting,
but she was no match for the two. They dragged her into a dark, dirty alleyway
and pushed her down onto the ground amid the dirt and garbage. Desperately she
tried to free herself, half-crazed with fear. One pinned her shoulders to the
ground; in vain she lashed out with her feet at the other. He grinned down at
her, the pale moon glittering on his round, lust-filled face, and began to unbutton
his trousers.

"Quite
a fighter, ain't you, girlie?" he said and smiled unpleasantly.
"Well, we shall see how much fight is left in you after we get through
with you. I don't mind a little fight—makes it more fun."

The
other laughed and slid his hands down over her breasts, squeezing them
painfully. She battered at him with her fists and tried to rise, but he shoved
her hard back to the ground. The one standing suddenly bent and gripped her
legs and spread them apart, shoving her skirt and petticoats above her waist
and tearing away her pantalets.

"Ain't
that a sight?" he crooned, his voice thick with lust.

"Don't
take too long, Ned," the other joked. "I'm all ready for my
turn."

"I
won't,"
Ned said. "Next time around I'll take a little longer, but this one will
be quick." He slid his hands up her thighs and she cringed. Dear God, why
had she run away?

"Matthew,"
she whispered, "oh, save me."

Suddenly
a peculiar look crossed Ned's face and then he slumped on top of her, a red
stain spreading across his back. She stared at him in disbelief, for one wild
moment almost believing that her prayer had been answered, that somehow Matthew
had been magically transported from London to Liverpool to save her. Then she
looked up and saw a tall, thin man holding a cane, from the end of which
protruded a stiletto blade, stained with her assailant's blood. The dead man's
friend gulped and took to his heels.

"Dreadfully
sorry, madame," the man said, politely extending a hand to help her up.

She
struggled to her feet, staring at him in amazed silence. By his manner, he
might have just been introduced to her at a tea, rather than saved her from rape.

"Liverpool
at night is no place for a lady alone. Here, you seem quite shaken up. Let me
escort you to my aunt's house; it's very near here. She will give you a cup of
tea and you can rest a bit and freshen up and then I'll take you back
home."

Dazed,
she took the arm he offered, and they began to walk. Her thoughts were
careening around wildly in her head. Who was this man? He talked like an
English gentleman, but why did he wander about with a walking stick that
concealed a knife? Gradually, she began to regain her senses; her heart stopped
pounding quite so madly.

"Thank
you," she managed to say.

"Not
at all, my dear, not at all," he said airily. "Couldn't just stand
by, could I? Lucky for you, though, that I was there."

She
nodded. "Yes; very lucky." Very lucky, indeed; she knew that it would
have been much more horrible than anything she had ever suffered at the hands
of Matthew Hampton. She felt weak with relief.

"I—I
was trying to reach the police—the constable."

"Whatever
for?"

"I
was a prisoner aboard an American—I mean, a Confederate ship at the docks. I
escaped and was looking for the police."

"My,
you do lead an exciting life, don't you?"

"Never
before," Katherine said, on the brink of tears or laughter, she wasn't
sure which.

"Well,
then, as soon as we calm you down a bit, I'll take you to the
constabulary."

"Yes,
yes, please. Right now, please; I don't need to rest, really. I won't feel safe
until I've reached the police."

"Nonsense,
you are so upset you can hardly stand up. My aunt will fix you up in a second.
Now, I won't take any argument."

Too
confused and weak to protest, Katherine could only give in and cling to his
arm. She felt as if her head would burst from all the wild, discordant thoughts
and images and aches. What on earth would his aunt be doing living near here?
What was a gentleman like him doing wandering around slum streets, for that
matter? And how could anyone be as imperturbable as he? Although his clothes
were expensive, they seemed a trifle flashy. Or was it just that she was so
used to only sober Bostonians dressed in blacks and grays?

"Here
we are," he said, approaching an unprepossessing brown building.

"Here?"
Katherine asked doubtfully, glancing at the squalid surroundings.

Without
answering, he rapped sharply on the door. It was quickly answered and her
savior propelled her inside. They stood in a small hallway that was dimly lit;
but Katherine could see that the walls were a deep red and the carpets thick
and plush. What a strange place! Through the half-opened door she could glimpse
a large room with several people in it, men and—near-naked women. She
remembered things Matthew had told her.

"Why—why,
this is a broth—" she exclaimed as her companion's hand clamped over her
mouth. It held a sickeningly scented handkerchief. Feebly she tried to
struggle, but the world began to whirl around her and then go black, and she
slumped against him.

The
memory of their angry parting stayed like a bitter taste in his mouth. Matthew
wished she were here in London with him: they would go to plays and eat
intimate midnight suppers in sumptuous private rooms; he would take her
dancing, to the races, to wicked clubs that she would be eaten up with
curiosity to see. He would introduce her to a thousand pleasurable vices that
prim Boston had denied her. Instead, she was sitting alone in their cabin,
imprisoned, unhappy, no doubt feeling abandoned because the old doctor had not
come to her rescue.

To
add to his depression, his embassy had been singularly uncooperative. The
ambassador referred him to Mr. Redfield, whom he termed a "special
representative." Mr. Redfield put off his questions about a ship and
instead referred mysteriously to a plan, one that had not been quite worked out
yet.

"I
think perhaps you just might be exactly who we're looking for. We need a man of
your daring, your skills."

"For
what, man, for what?" Hampton had exploded, leaping from the chair to pace
the room. "What is this plan you keep hinting at?"

"Calm
down, Captain Hampton; there's no need to shout—I'm not a Yankee ship to be
taken. I am afraid I can't tell you about the idea until I have all the
details. I expect a vessel any day with orders from Charleston."

"And
in the meantime am I just supposed to sit around waiting?"

"Exactly."

"Look,"
Matthew said harshly, "I have a crew in Liverpool. They deserve a rest, a
little time to satiate themselves with booze and whores. But if we have to wait
too long, they will dissolve, begin to leave, lose their sense of unity, and
remember how much they hated that prison and think how much nicer some merchant
ship would be. I can't afford to cool my heels here for very long."

"You
will have to, Captain. Do you think I can just pull battleships out of my
pockets? We have no ship sitting ready for you in the harbor. I have no instructions
to order one built for you. Moreover, I have no money to pay for one if I could
find it. Captain, the Confederacy is strapped for money. The blockade is
strangling us—destroying our economy. What money we do have is hell to get out.
And our friends the English are somewhat leery of extending credit to us."

"I
realize the South's financial situation; my men have received no pay in two
years; I have to give them shares in the merchandise we take to keep them with
me."

"That
must appeal to your piratical instincts," Redfield said dryly.

Hampton
grinned and sat back down in his chair. The special representative rather
intrigued him. He was a dry, wispy little man, bespectacled, plainly dressed,
his nondescript sandy hair thinning on top. But for all his meek looks, Matthew
sensed a hardness in him, a quiet, dogged, steely determination. Every day he
fought a losing battle, juggling diplomats, money, supplies, and men, usually without
any communication from headquarters. It took a kind of gritty patience Hampton
didn't have.

Redfield
favored him with a thin smile. "Aside from the problems in obtaining a
ship for you, we may need you more in a different capacity."

"The
secret plan?" Hampton teased.

"Yes,
Captain. You do understand?"

"I
suppose."

So
for the past three days, Hampton had found himself idling away his time. Taking
his share of the bounty, he multiplied it in the gambling halls of London. He
knew that skillful operators lured the naïve into gambling halls and let them
win the first night so that they would return succeeding nights, when they
would be sure to lose heavily. Hampton roamed London, playing the gullible
American, allowing himself to be lured into the halls for one night of winning,
but not returning for the losing nights.