Smuggler's Glory (32 page)

“
Back away all of you, or she dies.”

Simon
straightened and watched as the faint outline of a dark shadow
appeared before him, and moved to stand behind Francesca. The gun
held to her head made his blood run cold. He tried to remain
professionally dispassionate as Lindsay yanked Francesca to her
feet by her hair. Her soft cry of pain through the gag was
accompanied by the shuffling of feet on the floor as she tried to
move toward Simon, only to be dragged back to stand closer to
Lindsay.

“
Hiding behind women now, Lindsay? God, you really do dredge
the bottom of the barrel, don’t you?” Simon snapped, disappearing
into the shadows.

He had
spent his life in the shadows. It was where he belonged and it was
about time that he used his familiarity with it to the best of his
abilities.

“
Get back here,” Lindsay demanded when he lost sight of Simon’s
shadow. “You’ll show yourself or she dies.”

“
But you need her to show you where your tunnel is, don’t you,
Lindsay?” Simon growled from his position on the floor. He saw
Lindsay spin around in his direction, trying to peer through the
gloom. Francesca struggled to gain purchase with her feet as she
was swung around in front of her captor.

“
If you kill her, you will never know,” Simon sing-songed from
Lindsay’s left, pleased when Lindsay swung around in a frantic
circle once more, dragging Francesca with him.

Simon
itched to poke the man in the back and really turned the torment up
a notch, but couldn’t run the risk that Lindsay would pull the
trigger of the gun he still held far too close to Francesca’s
head.

“
Don’t think I won’t shoot her. I’ve killed before and I’ll
kill again.” The bravado in the words was diminished by the
trembling in Lindsay’s voice.

“
Killing defenceless females seems all you are capable of,
Lindsay,” Simon chided from the corridor. “First Madeline, who died
for no other reason than she made the mistake of running up debts
she couldn’t pay.”

“
The stupid woman was useless. All she had to do was find the
bloody tunnel.”

“
But when she couldn’t, she had to die, didn’t she, Lindsay?
Especially when she wanted out of your brutal control and
threatened to tell Francesca everything,” Simon whispered straight
behind Lindsay. He dodged back when Lindsay ducked in panic,
dragging Francesca with him.

Francesca’s head whirled. She had long since given up trying
to see anything through the impenetrable blackness. It was the
blessed sound of Simon’s deep tones that soothed her battered
senses like nothing else could. Closing her eyes, she tipped her
head back and tried to block out everything but his voice. She knew
he was using the darkness against Lindsay, trying to make the man
disorientated and confused, but she wished he wouldn’t keep moving
around because the constant movement kept making her feel sick. She
had no idea who the other people were with Simon, but was glad he
had reinforcements. For the first time in that horrifying day, she
felt a small ray of hope that she just might get out of this awful
situation alive.

She knew
that the man behind her was starting to panic, by the increasingly
tight hold he had on her waist and the fine trembling of the gun
against her temple. She could only hope that Simon wouldn’t agitate
him too much and make Lindsay inadvertently shoot her. The past few
hours had brought forth so many emotions that she was struggling to
keep up with them. She felt sick, sad, worried, confused, hurt,
anxious, and so many more that she couldn’t put a name to. It was
all so confusing that she simply wanted to lay her head down and
rest for a while, preferably with Simon beside her.

At least
the mission he had been sent to achieve had gone well, and she felt
a surge of pride for his achievements and wonderful relief that he
was alive. By the sound of it, the villagers would be reaping the
benefits of his hard work for years to come. She wished that Simon
would be around to witness his success first hand, but a small
voice reminded her that he would soon be leaving. She had no idea
who the other men were, but they would undoubtedly take him with
them when they left and the thought that she was going to lose him
anyway made her situation now even more miserable.

She had
already known she loved him. The depth of that love shook her, at
her physical reaction to the reassuring sound of his voice, and
brought about a new, deeper despair. She had no idea how someone
could choose a life of such cruelty and depravity as this, over a
normal everyday life of happiness and joy. But it was Simon’s
choice and there was very little she could do about it.

Simon
continued his taunt, his voice coming from this way and that. Each
time he spoke, Lindsay whirled around and around, the trembling in
his hands getting worse. The arm around her waist was so tight that
it was painful and she began to squirm against the
restriction.

“
Stand still,” Lindsay snarled, poking her hard in the temple
with the end of the gun.

Francesca couldn’t reply.

“
Of course, we could just let you go,” Simon drawled from
somewhere at the back of the cellars.

Lindsay
spun around again. This time Francesca didn’t bother trying to gain
purchase with her feet, and instead went limp and heavy in his
arms. He struggled to hold her weight upright and for one brief
moment she felt the gun leave her temple. She didn’t know where it
was pointing but fell to the floor and spun around on her bottom as
she tried to crawl away.

A sudden
grunt from above her, accompanied by the sharp retort of the gun
going off, heralded the beginning of a flurry of activity that was
confusing. She screamed when hands settled on her shoulders, only
to find herself lifted gently to her feet. She couldn’t see who it
was but she was gently swept off the floor and carried from the
room as though she was made of precious glass. She was aware of the
heavy thuds of flesh meeting flesh, and the groans and grunts
coming from the men she left behind and began to pray that Simon
was not the one on the receiving end of the masculine
brutality.

“
Get a damned light down here!” someone shouted, moments before
someone else brushed past them and took the stairs two at a time,
thundering back down moments later with a candle and a lantern in
his hands.

Francesca winced against the sudden flare of light that hurt
her eyes, and looked at the man who was carrying her so gently up
the stairs. He was someone she didn’t recognise, but she knew he
was one of Simon’s colleagues. Minutes later, he placed her on the
chaise in the sitting room, before gently removing her bindings and
the gag. She swallowed against the burning pain her throat and
rubbed her sore wrists.

“
Thank you,” she whispered, her thoughts locked on Simon who
was still in the cellars.

“
Jamie,” the tall man murmured gently. At that moment the door
opened and Simon walked in.

Francesca gasped and stared at him in horror for a brief
moment before lurching off the chaise and racing across the room
toward him. He drew her against him with a soft moan, burying his
face in her hair and taking a deep breath of her familiar scent.
The joy that swept through him at the feel of her in his arms
practically unmanned him and for several moments he simply couldn’t
speak. He fought hard to gain control of the raging emotions that
began to pour through him and wondered if he could ever bring
himself to release her. Placing a gentle kiss at the base of her
neck, he eased back, hoping she would move her arms from the
particularly sore spot on his back.

“
Oh God, Simon, what happened to you?” she whispered, taking
note of the large gash above his swollen eye and the rapidly
growing bruises that were mingled with the lavish spread of welts
and grazes, and that was only on his face. She stood back and
picked up his hand, feeling the sting of tears at the sight of his
swollen knuckles.

“
Archie? Pie?” she gasped, staring at him in horror.

“
Archie is a bit worse than me and Pie decided to sit it out
and play babysitter,” Simon growled hoarsely, assuring her that
both men were fine.

“
Bertie?”

“
Here,” Bertie said, shuffling into the room and sweeping her
into a bear hug. The deep affection they had for each other was
humbling to see and, despite her own ordeal, Francesca helped the
old man to the nearest seat before turning back to
Simon.

“
We need a doctor,” Francesca asked, turning to
Jamie.

“
That’s me,” Jamie replied, bowing slightly. “I’m the
unofficial medicine man for the team when Harriett isn’t
available.”

“
I need to sit down,” Simon growled. He didn’t want Francesca
to see him so weak and useless but had a choice. He could either
remain upright and fall flat on his face, or retain some small
measure of his dignity and take a seat while Jamie tended to his
cuts and welts.

He
slumped on the chair with a low groan, lifting his best eyelid to
peer at Francesca who came to sit beside him. Despite the soreness
in his ribs, he drew her against his side and simply absorbed the
sheer pleasure of having her so close to him once more. He could
hear the thumps and thuds coming from the kitchens and didn’t need
to go there to see Lindsay, bound and gagged, being dragged up the
cellar steps and out into the stable yard. He would wait out there
under armed guard until the cart arrived from Launceston to collect
not only Lindsay, but the men from the barn.

Francesca jumped when a steaming cup of broth was wafted
under her nose, and she opened her eyes to see another stranger
holding a cup out to her. The delicious aroma of vegetables and
meat reminded her that she hadn’t eaten at all that day, and with a
gentle murmur of thanks she began to sip the fragrant
brew.

“
Rupert, ma’am,” the man said, nodding kindly at her before
turning to Simon with a sigh.

“
How’s Archie?” Simon asked, when Hugo came to join them and
had been introduced to Francesca.

“
Jamie’s seeing to him now. Then, if it is alright with you,
Francesca, he is going to bed. Once he has had some rest, I am sure
he will be well enough to return to Launceston to continue his
recovery.”

Simon
nodded in relief, aware of Hugo’s careful study of the intimate
hold he had on the woman in his arms.

“
You are all welcome to stay for as long as you need to,”
Francesca offered gently, wondering how much food they had in the
cupboards to feed so many large and hungry men.

“
One night will be all,” Hugo replied, moving to sit opposite
them.

Jamie
ran down the main stairs, a saddlebag of supplies in his hand.
“Your turn,” he announced to Simon, who merely groaned.

“
Do you need me to carry you up the stairs?” Rupert teased, and
was rewarded with dirty look.

Once
Simon had followed Jamie from the room, Francesca turned her
attention to Rupert and Hugo. The camaraderie between the men was
warming to see. Although they fought death and faced hardships
nearly every day of their lives, they were still human and needed
to feel close to someone. Even if it was a colleague who would
watch their backs in times of crisis. She was aware that the men
were waiting for her to leave before they discussed what happened
in the mines, but couldn’t bring herself to move until she knew
that Simon was going to be alright.

Hugo’s
declaration that Archie would be fit enough to travel back to
Launceston tomorrow also meant that Simon would be rested enough
after a good night’s sleep and able to travel with them. She
quickly blanked that thought out and rose to her feet.

She and
Bertie had been halfway across the moors road when they had been
stopped by a carriage heading toward them. At first they thought
that the carriage had lost a wheel, but then Francesca had spotted
Lindsay and she had known her day had just got considerably worse.
Her return to Thistledown had been on the grimy carriage floor,
bound by hand and foot and scrunched up as close to Bertie as it
was possible to get. She had thought that had been bad enough,
until Lindsay had dragged her down into the cellars, shoving Bertie
ahead of them. At first they had had a candle to light to banish
the worst of the shadows, until they had heard voices from outside.
The darkness they had experienced had been so thick, so suffocating
that Francesca had struggled to keep her sanity. Even the knowledge
that they were at Thistledown, her home, had not banished the fear.
Her imagination had run riot and, if she hadn’t heard the sound of
Simon’s voice when she had, she would have gone quietly
mad.

“
Is it over now?” she asked softly to nobody in
particular.

Simon
froze on the stairs and turned toward her. The gently spoken
question had sounded so lost, so fearful that he felt his heart
melt. “Yes, darling, it’s over now.”

Francesca sighed, unable to find the words to describe the
depth of her emotions, and merely nodded her thanks.

“
Get some rest,” Hugo ordered, pushing to his feet and glancing
at Francesca. “We’ll talk in the morning,” he added, glancing at
Simon.