Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Kate

Kate lifted her head and assessed the carnage that surrounded them.

Four men were dead—three of the criminals who'd captured them and one of the men who'd come to rescue them. Was that what this was? A rescue?

As if to answer her question, the man who'd negotiated with her captors dropped on his haunches in front of her and handed her a bladder of water. "Drink."

She took the water, taking several greedy swallows, the cool water soothing her dry cracked lips.

When she finished, she gave her mouth a very unladylike wipe with the back of her hand and then turned to give the water to Anna.

But she found her sister already in the lap of another one of the men. Dark and handsome, he was feeding her several swallows of water from his own bladder, holding the leather container to her lips.

"Who is he?" she asked, her voice broken and hoarse as she stared at Anna. "The man holding my sister."

"That is Lord James Bancroft, and I am Jack Wit." And then Jack Wit passed her hardtack. She didn't question him as she ripped off a piece with her teeth.

The water was already returning strength to her limbs.

"Are you friend or foe?"

He cocked one eyebrow. "Do foes usually kill your captors and then feed you?"

Had he meant to be funny? She didn't laugh. "I just spent four days locked in a closet. It's a question that bears asking."

His eyebrow fell. "It surely does. Which is why I will tell you that I am an agent of the King of England and an ally to the Smith brothers."

"Smith brothers?" She had no idea who they were and why they'd be her friends.

"They are financed by the Duke of Ducat. Him, you surely know, as he has been tasked with seeing you through society."

She gave a nod. She should have known His Grace would come to her aid. Her shoulders slumped in relief. "Is there any way you can prove all you say. I don't mean to be impertinent, I just…"

"You're fine. You're not being impertinent at all, and you've every right to be cautious." He sat in the sand in front of her. "I met your sister Isabelle on her wedding day. Her first wedding day. I'm guessing that you are Kate."

The hardtack stuck in her throat. She'd give anything to be with Isabelle now. "You know my sister?"

"I'm trying to think if I know something so personal that you'd believe me, but I can't think of anything, so I'll have to settle for sharing this. Even if she has every right to be furious with your father, she seems to have settled into practical acceptance, which I find so odd, but seems completely normal for her."

He knew her sister. Only Isabelle could feel sympathy for their father in the situation in which she'd found herself.

His words brought tears to Kate's eyes. The ones she hadn't allowed herself to cry since those terrible men had taken her and Anna from their carriage, killing all of Ducat's footmen. "That's Isabelle," she whispered, swiping away at the tears. "Drat. I'm sorry. It's been…"

He shook his head and suddenly Kate found herself drawn against his body, pulled onto his lap as his strong arms came about her.

He smelled of sea and cheroot with just a hint of sandalwood underneath. It was the most pleasant thing she'd ever encountered and, in the fading light, she noted her torn and dirty clothes, her hair a tangled mess, and her hands covered in smudges of dirt.

But still, she settled her cheek into the hollow of his neck and let a few more of the tears go.

"Ships gone," the man holding Anna called. "King's boat is in pursuit."

King? Kate had heard the name bandied about her captor's boat and it had confused her. Who was the king?

"Your boat will shake them in no time, Bancroft," Jack called back. "Though I'd feel better if I'd killed the man in charge…"

Bancroft cocked his head. "You did kill him. He's right there."

Jack shook his head. "No. That's not him. There was another, behind him, who I believe was the criminal king I've been hunting."

Kate didn't want to look at the bodies in the sand and she found herself digging deeper into Jack's warmth.

"What can we do now?" Bancroft asked.

"The plan is the plan. Let's put the women in the dinghy and we'll row down the beach until we find Fulton."

She nodded into his shoulder, not that he'd even been speaking to her. But she wished to stay with this man in the comfort of his embrace. He was warm and strong and for the first time since she'd been captured, she felt safe.

She wrapped her arms tighter about his middle and held on as tears slowly slipped down her cheeks.

He seemed to understand, gently picking her up and splashing through the water until he was seated in the dinghy with her in his lap.

"Where's Anna?" she asked, her head lifting long enough to see that her sister was also in a man's lap on the bench in front of hers.

"Don't you worry. Bancroft will take care of her. Promise."

The other two sailors pushed the dinghy off the beach, climbing in and rowing the boat parallel to the shore.

The sun had disappeared, the moon now shining in the sky. "Where are we?"

"Plymouth."

"Plymouth," she gasped. "A few days ago we were in London."

"I know," he answered, holding her tighter. "But I think the more important question is where you go from here."

"What are my choices?"

"I can send you back to London. To your parents. Or…" She leaned back to look at him, noting for the first time that he was ridiculously handsome.

Not just sort of good looking. But the kind of handsome that would have made her blush back in London.

Hard lean muscles were pressing into her. She'd never been more aware of just how plain she usually looked.

Not that she looked ordinary now. If she were to guess, she currently appeared as though she'd been dragged through a fisherman's net.

"Or I could take you to Isabelle."

She gasped in a breath, hope rising in her chest. She missed her sister so much. But she'd just met this man. Did she really trust him to take her on a multi-day journey to a place she'd never been?

Her life as a debutante would be completely over if she did that. Perhaps it was already. She and Anna had never arrived at the school that had been expecting them.

"Hey!" someone called into the night. "That you, Jack?"

"It's me," he called back. "I've got Kate and Anna."

"And the men you hunted?"

He gestured for the boat to be rowed in to shore. The men did so without question and soon, they were grounded in the sand once again.

Gently, Jack set her down and climbed out of the boat, speaking in soft tones to another man. He had to be one of the tallest she'd ever seen, except that at least two behind him were even larger.

One of them caught her gaze and started toward her.

She shivered, part from the cold and part from the fear. Somehow, her mistrust was back again, making her wonder who to trust.

"Cold?" the stranger asked and then his massive coat was off his shoulders and around her in an instant.

"Thank you," she murmured pulling the warmth of it around her.

"My name's Griswold Smith. Are you Anna or Kate?"

"Kate," she answered softly.

"Kate, we're going to get you on Fulton's ship in just a few minutes, where you will be bathed and fed and then put into a comfortable bed to sleep."

A second man came up to Griswold. "I'm leaving."

"Why? Where, Tris?"

"To tell Ducat the girls have been found and the king has been identified. I'm going to get another ship to aid you if I can."

Kate couldn't help but ask. "Should we not come with you to London?"

Tris gave her a warm smile. "I'll be riding without rest, a journey I'm not certain you're up for. And besides, you ought to consider travelling to Scotland. Isabelle and Bode's new house isn't terribly large, but I reckon the farm will hold you and your sister for some time."

Her mouth dropped open and her fears disappeared. She'd read gushing letters from her sister about her new home. These men were men that could be trusted. "I'd like that very much."

Jack returned to the edge of the dinghy, his hard square jaw and broad shoulders making her squirm under Gris's jacket.

He climbed in, pulling her against his side, more warmth infusing her frigid muscles.