Edith Layton by Gypsy Lover

cousin, so be it. Though, from what I heard about what’s happening to her, if she was my woman, I’d care something terrible, I can tell you.”
    That did it. Meg nodded, and slowly backed away. “Out back,” she whispered. “I’ll be there.”
     
    It was both darker and quieter behind the inn than Meg had realized. The place had been bustling only hours before, now even the better inns across the street were still. Coaches came early; travelers went to bed early too. The Stoned Crow had fewer guests to begin with, so the back of the inn was as quiet as a graveyard and just as full of life. The Stoned Crow didn’t spend money where it could be seen. There were no lamps or lanterns lit behind the inn. Meg could only see by the light of the half moon above.
    Though it was too dark to see more than an outline of the stables, Meg could smell the horses. Unfortunately, she could also smell the Jericho. She vowed to use the hated basin under her bed tonight; she’d gagged when she’d entered the noxious outbuilding during the day. Nothing would induce her to go in there at night.
    Meg stood and waited for the trio of men to appear. She had three sizeable coins in her purse, one to give each man. She hoped it would be enough. She was just beginning to wonder why they hadn’t asked her how much money she would reward them with, when she was distracted by a soft, but clear “ Hist !” coming from the stable yard.
    She squinted, and then made out three figures standing at the side of the stables. A very dark side of it. She shivered and fought back a desire to run right back to the inn. They said they knew something about Rosalind. She wanted to believe it. But she wasn’t a fool, and she was suddenly too uneasy here. Still, she reasoned she was within shouting distance of the inn. And she was so very tired of traveling an increasingly cold trail. And more than all that, they’d implied that Rosie was in danger.
    She forced herself to stand erect, and walked toward the men.
    “Yes?” she whispered. “I’m here. What have you to tell me?”
    The plump man gestured frantically. “Closer,” he said huskily. “Dunno who might be coming out to use the privy, y’know. Don’t want to wake no one in the stables, neither.”
    She didn’t want to go closer, the men smelled bad enough from where she stood. But she edged a step nearer.
    “Yes. Well, then. So, about my cousin,” she said, aware that she was too nervous to be talking clearly, and suddenly even more aware that she’d possibly done a very stupid thing.
    A moment later, she couldn’t talk at all. A big hand whipped out from behind her and clapped over her mouth. It tasted rancid, and held her fast as another hand clamped around her waist. She was pulled back against a hard body. She struggled, biting and hissing, but she could hardly breathe, muchless make a sound. She couldn’t land a kick either, her legs were held still, captured between her assailants’. She was silently and inexorably dragged into the shadows behind the stables.
    “You was right,” she heard the filthy man from the inn say softly from behind her. He fumbled at her, and squeezed a breast hard. “Pretty and plump in all the right places. I goes first.”
    “Damned if you do!” the plump man said in a fierce whisper. “Whose idea was it, eh?”
    Meg felt her stomach grow cold and her legs weak.
    The plump man began to unbutton his breeches. “I found her,” he said. “I get her first, that’s the way of it.”
    “Damned if you do,” the man behind her growled. “You got the last one. It’s my turn.”
    “No,” breathed the big thick man as he stared at Meg. “This time, it’s me.”
    “Now, listen to me,” the plump man said in a hoarse whisper. “I made the game, and I make the rules. This one is mine first. Then, you two decide who goes next. But make it fast, and be quiet, and then cosh her and leave her. We’re out of here and gone right after. We take her, and