“Let’s do it, then. It’s goin’ to storm. I want to be on my way.”
A few beats later, the doors on both sides of the coach opened.
“I’ll take the lass.” The man who spoke was Mouser, the breast squeezer. He reached in for her, and Gwendolyn leaned away from him. “Come on, pretty,” he said with mock hurt. “Dinna be that way with me.”
“Git over here and help us carry this bastard,” his companion said, hissing out the last word. “She can wait.”
The man left Gwendolyn alone to do as he was told.
They dragged Beckett out of the coach. There was just enough moon peeping in and out ofthe quickly moving clouds that Gwendolyn caught a glimpse of Beckett’s head hanging as the three of them carried him into the night. She held her breath, praying she didn’t hear a splash. She didn’t.
Then one of her kidnappers came for her. He wasn’t Mouser. She was thankful for small favors. The man picked her up and carried her down a bank to a lugger, a small sailboat big enough to move cargo. In Ireland, they were popular with smugglers. The boat was pulled up on a bit of muddy beach. The sails were tied down.
He had to wade a few steps into the water to hand her up to a man in the boat. They almost dropped her. The hem of her skirt dipped into the water.
The man handing her up said, “Stay with that coach and prepare to drive it. We have a long road ahead of us.”
“Where are going?” the boatman asked.
“North,” was the curt answer.
With a grunt, the boatman dropped her, none too gently, beside Beckett on the deck. Her back was to his. Her skirts clung to her legs, and her arms ached from being tied behind her for so long.
“What is the name of the ship in Portsmouth again?”
“TheDuke of York. It’s sailing in two days’ time. These two had better be on it.”
“What do I say when I deliver ’em?”
That seemed to baffle their kidnapper. “Don’t know.” He paused. “Do you need to say anything?”
“I dinna?” the boatman said.
“Tell ’em they are from Colemore,” came the reply.
“Colemore? Aye, fine then. And my payment?”
“Here is half, and you will receive the other half when you have delivered the cargo.”
“Do I come back here?” the man demanded, none too happy.
“See me in one week’s time at the Riverhead in Gravesend. Do you know it?”
“I do.”
“One week from tonight.”
“And if you don’t show?”
“You can trust me. I’m married to yer sister, remember? But either way, half of what was agreed is still good payment.”
“I want it all now.”
“Dint have it. But I will, in a week.”
There was a long pause as if the boatman considered his options. There was movement at the bow, and Gwendolyn realized there was another man on the boat.
“Riverhead, then,” the boatman agreed. “But if ye cheat me, it’ll go bad for yer.”
