Page 43 of The Smuggler & the Society Bride

On this side of the hut, their leader aimed his weapon at Gabe, then at Kessel, his face contorted in anger.

‘Don’t do it,’ Gabe urged. ‘You only have one shot. I’ve been a soldier; trust me—you haven’t enough men. Save your weapon to get your troopers away, before fools drunk on power and free whiskey—’ he jerked his chin in the direction of the men attacking his agent ‘—cause a serious injury.’

After another fraught moment, with a roar of impotent rage, the leader kneed his mount and charged the wagon where the knot of smugglers were abusing his man, firing his one shot into the group. While the smugglers scattered, the leader pulled the injured man onto his horse. In the confusion, the four other King’s men backed away to find their mounts and rode off, the free-traders jeering and shaking fists at them as they retreated.

Gabe scrambled to his feet and ran over to Miss Foxe. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked anxiously, his eyes scanning her for possible injury.

‘I am fine!’ she assured him. ‘How can I thank you and Laurie enough for intervening? If you hadn’t distracted Kessel, he might still be holding Eva. But what of you, sir? You are bleeding!’

Gabe glanced impatiently down, noting the scrapes and cuts on his hands where he’d hit the rocky soil when he knocked Kessel down. ‘’Tis nothing. Take my horse, please. Deliver Eva home and then get back to Foxeden. If you hurry, you should manage to arrive not too long after your aunt’s horse and spare her worrying that you’ve been thrown to your death.’

She’d been about to protest, he could tell, but at this, she checked. ‘You are right; she will worry when Mischief returns riderless. But I did so wish to speak with you! There’s so much I need to tell you.’

‘And I, you. A very great deal!’ Now that the danger had passed, he allowed himself a moment to gaze hungrily at her lovely features. ‘But here is not the time and place. I’ve a reckoning to settle with Mr Kessel.’ His gaze narrowing, he glanced toward Dickin’s brother, who had hauled himself to his feet and was hurrying over to join the cheering men at the wagons. ‘Will you come to the school tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow?’ she echoed, dismay and disappointment in her tone. ‘Y-yes, I suppose I can wait until then.’

He permitted himself one final pleasure—pressing her hand, a contact that immediately submerged the sting of his assorted cuts and bruises in a tingling warmth. ‘Good. Eva will need comforting, I suspect, before you take her home.’

‘We’ll bring her back to the vicarage first,’ Father Gryffd’s voice interrupted him.

Gabe blinked, startled to see the clergyman leading his horse toward them. Apparently he’d missed the vicar in the confusion, for Miss Foxe did not look at all surprised by his presence. ‘Thank you for bringing me here, Father,’ she said, confirming Gabe’s impression.

‘’Twas a brave, bold thing you did, lass, getting the child away from Kessel,’ the vicar said. ‘I just praise the Lord you’re both unharmed.’

Holding her sister’s hand, Laurie joined the group. ‘I tried to stop him from taking her, Father,’ she said, tears choking her voice. ‘But he wouldn’t listen.’ She laughed, a touch of hysteria edging the bitter sound. ‘He never listens to any but his own counsel now. Dickin argued against transporting the goods by daylight, but John called the men out anyway.’

Unconsciously she fingered the bruise on her cheek. ‘I…I’m going back home with Eva. He said he’d kill me if I tried to leave, but I don’t care any more. I won’t go back to him.’

Father Gryffd nodded, his gentle eyes lighting with compassion and a fervour that, on another man, might have been rage. ‘You must both stay at the vicarage. Yes, and your mother, too. Eva can continue her schooling and you’ll be safe, until you decide what you want to do next.’

Laurie’s eyes widened, hope lightening them for a moment before it dulled. ‘No, it wouldn’t be right. ’Tis powerful kind of you, Father, but I can’t involve you in my quarrel.’

‘You are one of my lambs; it is my quarrel,’ Father Gryffd replied softly. ‘Besides, you think John Kessel would dare to attack a man of God?’

Gabe didn’t doubt it. Apparently Laurie didn’t either, for she said, ‘I believe he thinks he is above God.’

‘No one is above God, and all our fates lie in His hands,’ the vicar said. ‘But since the Almighty also helps those who help themselves, let me assure you that there’s no Cornishman alive who can best a Welshman when his ire is up. I wasn’t born a priest, you know. I insist that you stay. For the child’s and your mother’s protection, if nothing else. You know John Kessel, may the Lord yet rescue his black soul, would think nothing of threatening them to force you to his will.’

No one present doubted that fact. One tear leaking down her battered cheek, Laurie nodded. ‘We’ll stay, then. How can I ever thank you, Father?’

To Gabe’s shock, the vicar actually gave her a wink. ‘Oh, I shall think of a way,’ he said before turning to Miss Foxe. ‘With Miss Steavens here to reassure Eva, why don’t you take the captain’s horse and go directly to Foxeden? He is right; the mare will doubtless return straight to her barn, and I should not wish for your aunt to worry.’

‘Well…if Eva has her sister, I suppose she doesn’t need me,’ Miss Foxe said.

Eva darted from her sister’s side and threw her arms around Miss Foxe’s waist, hugging her fiercely. ‘Oh, I think she does need you, Miss Foxe,’ Laurie said. ‘But she can see you at school tomorrow. Can’t you, Eva?’

Nodding, the girl released Miss Foxe, who gave the child’s head a quick caress; her eyes were suspiciously bright. ‘But, Captain, if I take your horse, how will you get back to town?’

He shrugged. ‘I must find Richard Kessel and settle some business first. I’ll claim a ride back to the inn with him.’

‘Very well, then. Father, Captain, Eva, Laurie, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Gabe indulged himself in one more opportunity to touch her as he helped toss her into the saddle, just that brief contact firing the desire always simmering within. Then he stepped back to savour the view of her trim ankles emerging from the froth of petticoats, since, as the mare with the sidesaddle had galloped off, she was forced to ride astride. Pulling his gaze from that distracting and delectable sight, he murmured. ‘Until tomorrow, Miss Foxe.’

Her eyes widened, telling him she understood from his subtle emphasis that her true name was no longer a secret. She gave him a quick nod, doubtless in appreciation for his not revealing it to the others. ‘Until tomorrow, Captain Hawksworth.’

After watching the arousing spectacle of her trim posterior bouncing on the saddle as she rode off, Gabe set his jaw and walked off to find Dickin. Since neither he nor the elder Kessel had been at the inn, they were probably down at the beach, supervising the unloading.

John Kessel approached him as he walked to the stone hut. Brushing off his clothes with an elaborate gesture, John said coldly, ‘Make no mistake; I’ll see you pay for your interference.’

‘Truly,’ Gabe said, within a hair’s breadth of taking out his frustrations by pummelling that smug, arrogant face. ‘Just how do you think to manage that? I’m not a little girl a fourth your weight and size.’

Kessel inhaled sharply and curled his hands into fists. Gleeful at the possibility of a satisfying fracas, daring the man to try to strike, Gabe glared at him.

Kessel looked away first. ‘We’ll see about that,’ he muttered.

Gabe felt an itching premonition between his shoulder blades as the man strode off. He’d have to be vigilant. Kessel was more the type to strike with a knife in the back out of some dark alley than with fists openly raised in a fair fight.

He ducked into the hut and swiftly followed the tunnel to the cave. Emerging onto the beach, he spotted his friend immediately, directing the unloading of a small boat that was retrieving tubs moored along the cliff wall.

‘Ah, Gabe, my lad,’ Dickin called out as Gabe walked over, ‘will you plant me a facer first or let me explain?’

‘Explain. But it had better be good.’

Dickin nodded. ‘I don’t blame you for being angry, but you knew the order was almost complete when you hared off to London. After Dubois sent word that all was in readiness, we needed only the right weather to make the run. I delayed as long as I could, but when a perfect, sweet little storm blew in from the southwest, with Johnnie arguing we should go at once, at length I had to give way. Conan Willes skippered the Gull before you; he is nearly fully healed, and after five months on shore, was itching to get to sea. So I let him. He and Will Glasson both had a most successful voyage.’

‘And the landing?’

Dickin flushed. ‘I thought Johnnie had agreed not to bring in another cargo in daylight. ’Twas already in the works when I found out, too late to call a halt. But after today, I’m sure he’ll not try it again. Jake Dawes took a ball in shoulder, the men tell me, and there were other injuries.’

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