resided in his blade-wielding sister, who could only do so much.
But a trio of English gentlemen, trained for combat, was a boon.
What Blair needed were three alert and vengeance-minded men to help her raid the place, not careful men who might look for a safe and peaceful way to get their friend back.
She needed them as determined as she was. They needed to believe the danger to Northwick was immediate. They would need fire in their bellies to do what she required of them. Therefore, they could not know about the ransom note . They could not know they had two weeks to act, for Martin couldn’t wait two weeks.
If they attacked the keep and found nothing, the English would still have time to gather their money and meet the ransom demands. If they didn’t find Northwick, she would tell them all. They would still have hope. Surely they would forgive her if they still had hope.
Harcourt mumbled. She hid the note behind her before looking down, but the man was still asleep. A quick look around the table proved the others were equally unconscious, but still she watched them as she made her way to the curtain and escaped. Then she moved quickly to the large fireplace.
She would have tossed the note in straight away, but she worried she might forget a detail, so she read it yet again. The message took up only the top half of the parchment, so she tore it off. Waste not, want not.
She prepared to toss the message into the flames, but paused once more.
It was a betrayal, to be sure.
She imagined the look on Ash’s face when he discovered it, but her brother’s face pushed its way to the fore.
She took a deep breath and fed the fire.
“Anything for Martin,” she muttered as she watched it burn.
“Have you finished, Madame?” Blair jumped at the woman’s sudden presence.
“Oh, uh, no, I haven’t. Could I trouble you for a pen and some ink?”
“ Certainment ,” the woman said, turning away. “Do you need parchment also?”
She held up the blank half of the note. “No. I have what I need.”
Quarter of an hour later she sat before an empty bowl, an empty cup, and a finished note of her own.
Our villains are at Givet Faux.
Meet where you left me your horse.
Sundown. Thursday.
I will enter without you if I must.
Scotia
That would give them half a day to sleep off their drink, she reasoned.
A new set of customers were led to the table next to Blair’s and she cursed under her breath. With the curtain still drawn, she could hardly walk past their table and toss the note on the rolls. The little man had been foolish to do so in any case—if the Englishmen staggered away without a good look around, they would have left the note behind. It might have been tossed out with the rubbish and ended as a snack for a pig!
For all his trouble, all that distance in the rain, the little man must have been exhausted indeed to toss the note and run off. Perhaps he was not welcome in the auberge and ran out before he could be tossed in the street.
Foolish man.
But now, here she was contemplating the same dilemma.
How to make certain they read the message? And get away besides? For indeed, she did want to get away without a fuss. If they woke, alert, and found it tonight, they would no doubt come looking for her and demand to know how she’d learned the truth. She’d much rather face them just as they are about to rescue their friend. Perhaps they’d be much less interested in her and her sudden information if they are moments away from the prize.
Yes, facing them the following night would be much better. Besides, with Ash looking into her eyes, she was afraid she might tell him anything he wished to know, that a forced rescue of their friend was not necessary. And he could not know the truth. Not until she had a chance to save Martin.
She would confess then, and gladly.
Probably.
She laid her coins on the table then sat back in the shadows with nothing else to do but twist the ring on her finger and wait for an
But a trio of English gentlemen, trained for combat, was a boon.
What Blair needed were three alert and vengeance-minded men to help her raid the place, not careful men who might look for a safe and peaceful way to get their friend back.
She needed them as determined as she was. They needed to believe the danger to Northwick was immediate. They would need fire in their bellies to do what she required of them. Therefore, they could not know about the ransom note . They could not know they had two weeks to act, for Martin couldn’t wait two weeks.
If they attacked the keep and found nothing, the English would still have time to gather their money and meet the ransom demands. If they didn’t find Northwick, she would tell them all. They would still have hope. Surely they would forgive her if they still had hope.
Harcourt mumbled. She hid the note behind her before looking down, but the man was still asleep. A quick look around the table proved the others were equally unconscious, but still she watched them as she made her way to the curtain and escaped. Then she moved quickly to the large fireplace.
She would have tossed the note in straight away, but she worried she might forget a detail, so she read it yet again. The message took up only the top half of the parchment, so she tore it off. Waste not, want not.
She prepared to toss the message into the flames, but paused once more.
It was a betrayal, to be sure.
She imagined the look on Ash’s face when he discovered it, but her brother’s face pushed its way to the fore.
She took a deep breath and fed the fire.
“Anything for Martin,” she muttered as she watched it burn.
“Have you finished, Madame?” Blair jumped at the woman’s sudden presence.
“Oh, uh, no, I haven’t. Could I trouble you for a pen and some ink?”
“ Certainment ,” the woman said, turning away. “Do you need parchment also?”
She held up the blank half of the note. “No. I have what I need.”
Quarter of an hour later she sat before an empty bowl, an empty cup, and a finished note of her own.
Our villains are at Givet Faux.
Meet where you left me your horse.
Sundown. Thursday.
I will enter without you if I must.
Scotia
That would give them half a day to sleep off their drink, she reasoned.
A new set of customers were led to the table next to Blair’s and she cursed under her breath. With the curtain still drawn, she could hardly walk past their table and toss the note on the rolls. The little man had been foolish to do so in any case—if the Englishmen staggered away without a good look around, they would have left the note behind. It might have been tossed out with the rubbish and ended as a snack for a pig!
For all his trouble, all that distance in the rain, the little man must have been exhausted indeed to toss the note and run off. Perhaps he was not welcome in the auberge and ran out before he could be tossed in the street.
Foolish man.
But now, here she was contemplating the same dilemma.
How to make certain they read the message? And get away besides? For indeed, she did want to get away without a fuss. If they woke, alert, and found it tonight, they would no doubt come looking for her and demand to know how she’d learned the truth. She’d much rather face them just as they are about to rescue their friend. Perhaps they’d be much less interested in her and her sudden information if they are moments away from the prize.
Yes, facing them the following night would be much better. Besides, with Ash looking into her eyes, she was afraid she might tell him anything he wished to know, that a forced rescue of their friend was not necessary. And he could not know the truth. Not until she had a chance to save Martin.
She would confess then, and gladly.
Probably.
She laid her coins on the table then sat back in the shadows with nothing else to do but twist the ring on her finger and wait for an
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