Kenna took the offered slice and broke off a piece, dipping it into the stew’s thick gravy. Under cover of her thick lashes she stole a glance at the table by the door. The lone gentleman seated there was indeed handsome. His hair was fair, his features clearly defined like those of an Adonis, and his slender hands were both elegant and strong. He was wearing fashionable traveling clothes and a crystal knobbed walking stick rested at the side of his chair.
Kenna’s interest turned to the other patrons in turn. There was a father and his two young sons, a group of men who could only be locals given the familiarity with which they greeted the innkeeper, and a half dozen or so travelers from the public coach which had pulled up just before Kenna’s arrival. The atmosphere of the ale house was lively, what with so many conversations taking place at once, and Kenna took more time with her meal than usual to prolong the illusion of being part of the activity.
When Kenna had had enough of Janet’s reproachful look she motioned to Mrs. Robinson and the kindly woman showed them to the room they would share for the night. As they were standing in the hallway while Mrs. Robinson searched her oversized apron pocket for the key to the room, the handsome young lord from the common room passed them, tipping his hat politely as he went to his own chamber. Kenna’s cheeks warmed at the polite gesture but she was careful not to give him any encouragement.
The room Mrs. Robinson had prepared for them was eminently satisfactory. Crisp, well-laundered sheets were turned down on the double bed and a heavy colorful quilt was folded at the foot. Kenna’s portmanteau and Janet’s bags rested beside a glowing fire and fresh water had been added to the basin on the nightstand and a pitcher filled with more of the same stood beside it.
Janet helped Kenna out of her drab but practical traveling clothes and hung everything up on hooks on the wall while Kenna washed at the basin. Afterwards she gave Kenna’s hair a sturdy brushing and plaited it.
“Which side of the bed do you want?” Kenna asked as Janet changed into her voluminous nightdress.
“I prefer to be closer to the wall. I should warn you, my late husband said I snore a mite.”
Kenna yawned sleepily, unperturbed. “’S quite all right,” she said, slurring her words. “I sometimes scream.”
“Don’t I know it. We’ll have none of that tonight, m’lady,” she said stoutly as she climbed over Kenna to get to her side of the bed. “Try thinking of something pleasant, like that young man you pretended not to notice in the common room.”
Kenna wrinkled her nose at her maid. “I can’t conjure my dreams to order.” But as she fell asleep, she found herself thinking of a fair, handsome face and the rest came surprisingly easy.
Kenna did not know how many hours had passed when some strange noise woke her, but when she opened her eyes sleepily the face that was staring down at her was so familiar, so gentle that she thought she must be still dreaming. Her eyes drifted closed and she started to turn on her side. It was only when her movement was prevented by an insistent hand on her shoulder that she realized she was awake.
She opened her mouth to scream and immediately a gloved hand was clamped over it. Kenna kicked wildly, hoping to rouse Janet but the calm, handsome countenance above her warned her it was useless. He allowed Kenna to move her head slightly to one side, never releasing his hand. She paled as she saw the blood on Janet’s temple mingle with a shock of silver hair.
“Jeb hit her a little too hard for my tastes.”
The soft, faintly accented voice of the gentleman who was not at all what he seemed washed over Kenna and she ceased to struggle. She stared up at him, trying to still her panic. Upon closer examination the face above her was not as young as it first appeared. There were faint lines about his eyes and mouth, and at the temples his fair hair was actually a very light gray.
Another voice, this one rougher and uncultured came from across the room. “Now don’t be usin’ any names. We don’t want her singin’ any tunes to the authorities, mate. Anyway, it was you wot walloped the old one with yer cane.”
“So I did, but this young lady won’t be going within miles of anyone who will listen to her,” the man replied easily and to show his unconcern with the matter he introduced himself. “My name is Mason, lovely Kenna, and the two miscreants accompanying me are Jeb and Sweet.”
Was she supposed to care? she wondered. She wanted to help Janet whose breathing was shockingly light and shallow. The pressure on her mouth was unrelenting and she pleaded for release with her eyes.
Mason ignored her and spoke to the others. “Sweet, get the bottle. Jeb, tie her wrists and ankles, then hold her down. I suspect she’s not going to accept this easily.”
Kenna began to struggle immediately and though it proved useless she did not quiet until the last of her energy was drained and her hands and legs were tightly bound.
“Now listen to me carefully, Kenna,” Mason said, his eyes on her heaving breasts as she fought for air in the aftermath of her struggle. “We are not going to harm you. Do you believe me?”
Was he serious? Kenna shook her head.
“Good girl,” he said. “In the same circumstances I wouldn’t believe me either. No matter, it happens to be the truth. I was hired to do otherwise which explains the presence of Sweet and his friend.” His voice was soft, hypnotic. “I’ve no real taste for murder, not when I can turn a profit.”
Kenna frowned. Murder? Profit? What was he talking about?
“When I saw you in the common room an alternate plan formed in my mind, one of a decidedly less final nature. Rather fortunate for you, don’t you think? Now, don’t worry about answering,” he grinned, showing a mouth full of white even teeth. “I don’t really expect one. What I want you to do now is drink something I’ve specially prepared for you. It won’t kill you,” he added when he saw her look of pure terror. “Though at less skilled hands than mine it could. It will make you drowsy and distort your perception a bit, but it will not harm you permanently. Sweet is going to hold your nose and I am going to pour a measure of it down your throat. I would suggest you not try screaming for the alternative to this is very painful. Look to your maid again if you doubt me.”
Kenna didn’t doubt him at all. Sweet’s thick fingers pinched her nose and Mason lifted his hand just enough to pour a dram of liquid in her mouth as she opened it for air. She sputtered and coughed and tried to spit it out but another measure of the foul tasting stuff was poured in again. She saw Mason hold up the bottle to the firelight, roughly measuring how much he had given her. He did not slip the bottle into his inside vest pocket until it was a quarter empty. His hand remained on Kenna’s mouth and he glanced at his companions with something akin to satisfaction on his beautiful face.
“Now we wait.”
It was not long before Kenna’s eyes closed, and much against her will she dropped into a state of semi-consciousness. When Mason felt the tension vanish from her body, he slowly removed his hand and motioned to Sweet. “Gag her,mon ami, then we go.”
* * *
Rhys lay back on the bed, fluffing a pillow under his head. The pale pink silk canopy billowed at his smallest movement. He imagined it must resemble the roll of an incoming tide when Polly Dawn was entertaining her clients. The fat little cherubs carved into the bed’s headboard smiled serenely over Rhys’s head and the gold threads running through the pink wallpaper glittered at him from across the room. The bedchamber was hardly to his liking but it suited Miss Rose.
Rhys watched her comb her hair and arrange it artfully about her head. Her tiny plump fingers flicked the platinum curls this way and that until she was satisfied with her reflection. She caught Rhys’s eye in the mirror and silently asked the age-old question.
