A Dangerous Deceit (Thief-Takers) Read online

  It had been years since she’d had reason to employ those lessons, but they all came flooding back to her now. Before the man could get his arm around her throat and threaten her breathing, she dropped her chin down to her chest. It was an awkward position, and counter-intuitive to hunch over and expose the back of her neck, but it worked. The man’s forearm pressed against her mouth instead of her vulnerable throat.

  She screamed and bit down on his arm at the same time, ignoring the repugnant taste of dirt and old wool.

  Dimly, she was aware of his cursing in her ear.

  She saw the glint of the knife in the corner of her eye, and she reached out to catch his forearm and shove it away. With her free hand, she lifted her skirts and delivered a hard, scraping kick to the side of his leg. Twice.

  And then she was free of him, tripping forward out of his grasp and turning around to face him at the same time.

  His face was red with fury. He pulled the knife back with the obvious intention of delivering a slashing blow.

  She threw her hands up to shield her face and stumbled back. Her muscles tightened, anticipating the first awful sting of the blade.

  But it never came. Nothing happened.

  Cautiously, Jane lowered her arms to peek out through squinted eyes. What she saw astounded her. He was running away, bolting down the long alleyway behind the main street as if his life depended on it, as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

  Caught between terrified and dumbstruck, she stared after him.

  “Get behind me.”

  If she’d had the air, she would have yelped at Gabriel’s sudden, sharp command. But her breath was coming too fast, catching loud in her throat. She didn’t manage much more than a startled jerk.

  Gabriel shoved her back and lifted his gun to take aim at the retreating man.

  “You can’t.” Her voice sounded thready to her own ears. “He’s too far away now.”

  One would need a rifle to make a shot at such a distance.

  Gabriel didn’t seem to hear her, and didn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry to pull the trigger. He just stood there, staring down the barrel as if he had all the time in the world.

  “You’ll miss,” she breathed.

  His eyes narrowed slightly. He took a breath in, then slowly let it out.

  “I don’t miss.”

  Jane jumped at the sharp crack that echoed through the alley.

  The man crumpled to the ground with a howl.

  Good God, he’d hit him. In the leg, from the looks of it.

  She could just make out her own babbling over the ringing in her ears. “Yes, that’s right. You’re the marksman, aren’t you? You’re the marksman in your group. The Thief Takers. I’d forgotten.”

  Gabriel’s gaze raked over her in a quick but thorough inspection. Apparently satisfied, he grabbed her hand and pulled her down the alley toward her attacker. “Take deep breaths, Jane.”

  “I’m all right,” she said. But she did take those deep breaths, and they did help. The ringing quieted to a muted whine, and the trembling began to subside.

  “Stay behind me,” Gabriel ordered as they reached the prone man.

  Jane could see he was still conscious. He was gripping his leg and rolling back and forth on the ground as a string of hissing noises and filth poured out of his mouth. “You rutting bastard. Son of awhore.”

  Gabriel didn’t react other than to bend down and press the muzzle of the gun against the man’s forehead. Cold as you please. “Where’s Kray gone?”

  “You shot me in the back, you—”

  “Skimmed the side of your calf, actually. My conscience will survive. Tell me where Kray is.”

  The man only groaned and hissed and swore some more.

  “If you won’t talk,” Gabriel said. “Then you’re of no use to me.”

  He cocked the weapon.

  “I tell you…” the man managed through gritted teeth. “You let me go.”

  “You tell me. You live.”

  “I’ll die before I go back. We all would.”

  “Go back where?”

  “What is the meaning of this?!”

  Jane started at the intrusion of a new voice. She whirled about and instinctively pressed herself up against the nearest brick wall. The new arrival was a middle-aged man with a rotund belly, balding pate, and a large gun in his hand.

  “Here now,” the newcomer huffed at Gabriel’s back. “Turn about, you.”

  Jane looked to Gabriel and saw him give his captive a private, perfectly terrifying smile. “Lucky man,” he whispered.

  A second later, he was facing the newcomer with the same solicitous and slightly rakish grin he’d offered her on her doorstep the first day they’d met.

  Chameleon, she thought. Always changing. Always someone new.

  “My apologies for the disturbance.”

  The newcomer took in Gabriel’s fine clothes and accent, along with the gun he was holding. “I have to ask you to put that down, sir,” he said in a notably modified tone. “Put it on the ground where I can see it, if you please.”

  “Certainly.” Gabriel crouched and placed the gun by his feet. “I’m going to push it away, out of the reach of my friend, here.”

  “Quite right.”

  Gabriel sent the weapon skittering across the dirt alleyway, and rose just in time to plant a boot on the wounded man’s chest when he tried to roll away. “Don’t make the good man shoot you,” he chided.

  The injured man’s struggles subsided with a pained grunt, and Gabriel returned his attention to the villager. “Again, I apologize for the commotion. I imagine that shot was heard in all four corners of town.” He pointed to his coat pocket. “If I might retrieve my card?”

  A single nod. “Slowly now.”

  “Here you are.” Gabriel retrieved a card and extended it in offering.

  The gunman inched forward, slipped it from Gabriel’s fingers, and jumped back.

  “Sir Gabriel…” The man trailed off, looked up from the card and blinked at Gabriel. “Arkwright,” he finished in a stunned voice. “By God, itis you.” He lowered his weapon and gaped in astonishment. “Sir Gabriel Arkwright.”

  “You have the advantage, I’m afraid.”

  “Ah. Yes. Yes. My apologies. Mr. Wallace, sir.” He offered a quick but low bow. “At your service.”

  “Pleasure. Mr. Wallace, would you mind very much if I…?” He jerked his chin toward his gun.

  “Not a bit, sir. Not a bit.”

  “Most kind. Jane, if you would, please?” He nodded toward the gun and tapped his foot against the prone man. “I hate to leave him unattended.”

  Reluctantly, Jane pried herself away from the wall and retrieved the weapon. It felt uncomfortably warm and heavy in her hand. She passed it to Gabriel just as a new voice intruded on the scene.

  “Mr. Wallace?”

  Mr. Wallace glanced behind him as two men came hurrying toward them, brandishing clubs. “It’s all right, Mr. Pentworth. All right, Jim. It’s Sir Gabriel Arkwright.”

  Both men came to a stop and looked at Gabriel. Their jaws dropped in unison.

  “My God.”

  “As I live and breathe.”

  “Is it safe?” Yet another voice called out.

  Jane craned her neck for a look around Mr. Wallace. A least a dozen people stood at the end of the alleyway, gathered at the very edge of the building.

  Well, they’d certainly been seen, hadn’t they?

  “It’s Sir Gabriel Arkwright,” one of the new men called back.

  A collective gasp followed, and the whole group surged forward, talking at once.

  “The Sir Gabriel Arkwright?”

  “Is it really?”

  “It is, look at him.”

  “Eliza, come and see! Sir Gabriel Arkwright!”

  “I can scarce believe it.”

  A young boy poked his head around someone’s waist. “Who’s Sir Gabriel Arkite?”

  Jane had t
he most absurd urge to give the child a kiss on the cheek, and possibly a large bag of sweets.

  He was promptly shoved to the back of the group.

  “What’s a Thief Taker doing here?” someone asked.

  “Never mind that, who’s he standing on?”

  Mr. Wallace pointed at Kray’s man. “Who’s that you’ve got, sir?”

  “Just a ruffian attempting to relieve a lady of her jewelry.” Gabriel explained with a nod in Jane’s direction.

  She wasn’t wearing jewelry. Not so much as a paste brooch, but no one seemed to notice or care. They were all eyes for Gabriel. All tongues as well. The group chattered away like magpies. It was difficult for Jane to discern individual comments amongst the noise. When Mr. Wallace moved closer to Gabriel to speak over the din, however, she could make out snippets about ladies and sensibilities and discretion.

  Mr. Wallace threw a glance in her direction and bobbed his head. “Quite right, sir. Quite right.”

  She decided she was better off not guessing what sort of fantastic story Gabriel was concocting on her behalf.

  “We’ll take care of him,” she heard Mr. Wallace say. He motioned for one of the other men to take Gabriel’s place. “Keep an eye on this one, Mr. Pentworth.”

  As soon as Kray’s man was secured, Gabriel was at her side.

  Mr. Wallace cleared his throat and made an impatient gesture at Kray’s man. “I hope this unfortunate incident won’t dissuade you from visiting our little village in the future. He’s not one of ours.”

  Gabriel shook his head. “The railway brings in all sorts, doesn’t it?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Quite dreadful,” someone else commented.

  “Ghastly things,” an elderly man said.

  “I like trains,” the young boy chimed in, and was once again roundly ignored by everyone but Jane, who managed a smile for him before Gabriel ushered her away.

  “My gun,” she said as they made their way back up the alley. “He knocked it out my hand. It’s…”

  “I see it.” Gabriel stooped and snagged the gun without breaking his stride.

  “Where are we going?” Jane asked.

  “Might as well take the train now.”

  “What about that man? And our horse?”

  “Mr. Wallace will see to both.”

  As they neared the main street, he shifted closer to her, putting his arm around her waist. It wasn’t an embrace, but it was close. His fingers were firmly anchored above her hip.

  There was no one about to see. Everyone within a two-block radius appeared to have abandoned their activities for the scene in the alleyway. Nevertheless…

  “I don’t think it’s seemly for as to walk in this manner.”

  “I don’t care.” His tone was low and hard, and when she studied his profile, she discovered that the bright, easy smile he’d shared with the villagers was gone.

  “Are you angry?” she asked carefully.

  “Not with you.”

  She glanced back the way they’d come. “With the man you shot, then?”

  “Yes.” He swore softly. “To start. He was hurting you.”

  “A little.” And she was plenty furious about that herself. “But you shot him, so I suspect he’s angrier.”

  His only response was to grip her a little tighter.

  It was more than unseemly, really. It was out-and-out scandalous. And she didn’t care. She wanted him right where he was.

  No, that wasn’t quite right…

  She shifted closer, then closer still, until she could feel his hard form along the length of her side. And why not? If they were going to be scandalous, they might as well do the thing right—she might as well let the heat of him warm away the chill from the alley.

  He kept her at his side as he purchased their tickets, but they didn’t speak again until it was time to board. Like the last train, this one had old-fashioned first-class carriages that were isolated from the rest of the train.

  As Jane took her seat, Gabriel shut the door behind him, pulled the curtains shut, then pulled back just the corner to peer out the window.

  “You’re certain they won’t be waiting for us at the next stop?” she asked nervously.

  “Yes. We’re ahead of all of them. Evidently.”

  “How did they find us so quickly?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well.” She searched for something reassuring to say. “At least we’ve been lucky with the timing of the trains. Two in a row.”

  He nodded and let the curtain fall away as the train started out of the station. She expected him to relax then, to sit back against the cushions and let his guard down. Instead, he reached over and hauled her out of her seat and onto his lap.

  Keeping one arm around her waist, he began running his free hand all over her. The touch was efficient, even impersonal, but it still lit a thousand little flames of excitement beneath her skin.

  Jane gasped and reared back. “What are you doing?”

  “Checking for engines.”

  Engines?No,injuries. “I’m not injured. I think I would know.”

  “He had a knife.”

  “It barely pricked.”

  At the wordpricked, his arm tightened around her with near bruising force. “Where?” He demanded. “Where did it prick you?”

  “My back, but—”

  “God damn it, you said you weren’t hurt.” He twisted her away from him and ran his hands from shoulder to waist before she could finish. “There’s no blood.”

  “I told you. It barely pricked.”

  His fingers found the spot where the blade had cut the fabric of her gown, and he swore ripely. “I should have gutted him when I had the chance.”

  “With a gun? That seems an unlikely proposition.”

  “I can be creative.”

  She twisted back around to look at him. “I’m all right,” she promised, warmed by the obvious concern she saw on his face. She was no stranger to being fussed over. Mrs. Harmon was a champion fusser. But it was different with Gabriel. For some reason, it felt sweeter. “May I get up now?”

  His only response was to settle her firmly against him, and tuck her head under his chin. He wrapped his arms around her like chains and simply held on.

  Jane offered no resistance. She hadn’t really wanted to move. It just seemed the proper thing to do.

  But this was so much better. He was warm and solid. And safe. She’d never felt so safe, so well protected as she sheltered in his embrace. Not even at Twillins. The little cottage was her sanctuary, a place for her to hide from the world. But Gabriel… Gabriel was afortress. She didn’t feel hidden away. She felt guarded, and that made her feel bold. Untouchable. As if she could thumb her nose at the world without a care, or stroll into battle without fear. She could do whatever she liked, go anywhere she pleased, so long as he was there.

  They sat there for a long time, until she felt the tension ease from his frame, until her own muscles grew lax and her lids became heavy.

  “They should have been at least a half day ahead of us,” Gabriel said at length, and Jane was relieved to find that she could hear him clearly, much as she had when they’d shared the horse. “They couldn’t have gone ahead and come back already. It’s too soon. There’s no tactical sense in… What did he say to you?”

  “Well…” She thought back over the scene in the alleyway. “He wanted to know where the list was and where you’d gone. I claimed ignorance on both. I said you’d left me behind, but I don’t think he believed it. Then he wanted me to go with him so he could give me to Mr. Kray. He said I was enough for…bail?” She cleared her throat uneasily. “I may have misheard that. I’m sorry. I was quite nervous.”

  “It’s all right. Don’t apologize.”

  “He was quite keen on leaving. He didn’t want to meet with you. At all.”

  “Because he’d rather die than go back,” he murmured thoughtfully. “They all would.” Then said something unintelli
gible under his breath, something foul by the sound of it. “They’re convicts. Maybe all of them. Fulberg recognized one of the men at Twillins as someone he’d seen in gaol, but I assumed he was a man Kray already knew, that he’d pulled some strings to release him for this job. But he bloody well pulled strings for all of them.”

  “What does it matter if they’ve spent time in gaol?” They were clearly criminally minded individuals. It wasn’t exactly surprising.

  “It matters if they’re men facing long sentences unless they do Kray’s bidding.”

  “But…” Jane tried not think about what manner of crimes warranted long sentences. “That seems awfully shortsighted. Aside from the general havoc that might be caused by the sudden release of a small army of criminals on an unsuspicious pop…I mean unsuspecting population, what’s to stop the men from simply running off?”

  “Fear, mostly. They’re afraid of being caught, of Kray, of losing what might be their only chance at freedom for God knows how long. If Kray was smart, he offered rewards as well. A financial boon, or the opportunity to be free of both prison and his employment. Bail, as you said. This complicates things.”

  “In what manner?”

  “Any or all of those men might decide to run at any time,” he explained. “Eventually, they’ll realize they can’t trust Kray, or conclude that I’m the greater threat, or convince themselves that no one will bother hunting down one or two deserters. They’ll hide, slip away, or stay behind in a small village along the way—where the two of us have a fair chance of running into them by accident.” He swore again. “I can’t predict the behavior of men whose goals and motivation might change at any given moment. There’s no way of knowing when or where any of them will decide to take their chances on the run, or where we might be in relation to them at the time. And now… Now I bloody well can’t be absolutely certain any of them are behind us.”

  She sat up and pulled away a little to look at him. “Will we be all right at the next stop?”