“Who is in charge here? Show me to the stables,” he demanded.
“No one is in charge,” she said helplessly. He didn’t dismount, so she walked meekly beside his horse to the stables. He tied his horses to the hitching post, dismounted and fastened the reins of his own horse securely. Then he strode inside, saying, “I’ll take any livestock you’ve got if there’s no horse.”
He came to a full stop when he saw that the stables were empty. Just then Summer’s tummy gave a loud roll and he looked at her in disbelief. He knew now what he had only suspected; namely that he had been cheated. What made him livid was the knowledge that he had been a fool to pay money out before he’d received the merchandise. Greed had prompted him to do such a thing, of course. The price asked for the Barbary had been a fraction of what it was really worth.
“No horses, no livestock … then I demand my money back,” he said aggressively, and his voice echoed about the empty stables.
“Money?” she asked quietly as if she’d never seen such a commodity. “Sir, we don’t even have food.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked beyond the raggy gown. She might be a bit of trash, but she was magnificent trash! His eyes gleamed with speculation as he decided he would have something for his money. What better place than a deserted stable? He’d never coupled with a female this young and beautiful in his life. He was suddenly harder and randier than he had been in months. If his luck held, he’d keep her in the stables long enough to enjoy her tender flesh two or three times, If she resisted, he knew ways to force her to his bidding. Spirited fillies sometimes needed a taste of cruelty before they were ready for total obedience. If he hurt her, it was no more than she deserved for cheating him out of what was his. His eyes narrowed and his mouth twisted into a leer.
Before he took one step toward her, however, she had her knife in her hand.
“Cat,” came a voice from the stable door. He whirled about to see a male version of the girl, also with glinting drawn knife. “Spider,” she answered, and the two began to slowly close in on him. The hair bristled on the nape of his neck as he realized the pair who used code names were primitive, uncivilized, savage. He took to his heels and ran. He mounted his horse with a filthy curse as he saw the lead rein had been cut and one of his horses was missing. He thought better, however, of inquiring after it.
Summer looked at her brother with admiration. “Where did you put your pony and the other horse?”
He winced. “Actually I put them in the back kitchen.” He took off at full speed to assess what havoc they might have wreaked.
“Spider, I’ll brain you! As if the place isn’t in enough shambles,” she cried, taking after him. They reached the back kitchen door together and collapsed upon each other mirthfully as they saw the big bay gelding and Spider’s pony had devoured every scrap of their food. Gone were the freshly baked loaves, a basket of apples, a bag of oats for their porridge, and the pan of cream to go on it.
Spider said, “I could nip next door and steal some eggs.”
“Don’t you dare,” cried Summer in great alarm, then she caught the teasing gleam in his eye.
“There’s a ham in the larder. Let’s hurry and eat before the wagons arrive for the brandy,” he urged.
“You mean they’re coming in broad daylight?”
“Don’t tell me you’re turning into an old woman,” he scorned. “Oh, Spider, you’ll give me a heart attack,” he mimicked in falsetto.
She glared at him and bared her teeth. “I don’t get heart attacks; I give them!”
Later in the day when they counted up their money and were about to lock it safely in their cash box, she said with pride, “We have almost three thousand pounds with what I brought back from London. Oh, Spider, I don’t know how you’ve done it.”
He grinned happily. “Only another seventeen thousand to go, don’t despair.” He filched a sovereign from the box before she locked it and tossed it into the air. “Don’t wait up for me, Cat,” he said, winking.
The candles had burned themselves out when suddenly Summer came wide-awake. She sensed something was not as it should be and fumbled to light a fresh candle. She reached for her crimson velvet bedgown, took up the candlestick, and went downstairs. In the front hall Spider leaned back against the door, his face ashen.
“What’s wrong?” She ran to his side, her heart beating wildly in her throat.
“Militia,” he whispered, “took a shot at me.”
“My God, what were you doing?” she whispered furiously.
“Nothing … well, nothing much … stuffs still in the cave. Almost caught us red-handed … had to make a run for it,” he said breathlessly.
They nearly jumped out of their skins as a loud hammering came upon the door. Summer jerked her thumb toward the stairs and he silently disappeared up them.
“Open in the name of the law,” came an order in a voice which almost froze her blood in her veins. She waited silently until he hammered on the door again, then she flung it open and held her candle high. It showed her a burly young man with a florid face and small, piggy eyes. “Who are you?” she asked. “What is the meaning of this?”
“I am Sergeant Oswald, Falmouth Militia,” he said with authority.
“And so?” she demanded.
“I have reason to believe that this household is involved in smuggling.” He took a step forward with one boot touching the threshold. Summer did not move back, but thrust the candle closer to his face.
“This household, as you put it, consists of one lady. How dare you accuse me, Sergeant?” She sensed one or two men beyond him in the darkness and knew her only weapon was to humiliate him.
