“Aye.”
“Any dead?”
The man scratched his stubbled face, lips flattening, eyes sinking.
“Vern! I said any dead?”
“N–no.”
“Fine.” Orkey walked to the settee and hoisted a muddy boot onto the cushion. He smirked at Meg and Lord Cunningham, where they sat in the center of the rug. “Right unfair it’d be for folk like them to die for folk like these.”
Meg bristled against the rope binding her wrists. Hours ago, the two men had kicked back the furniture, shattered a porcelain vase, and slung Meg to the floor among the broken glass. Lord Cunningham had joined her before they could do the same to him.
His breath wheezed.
Every time his shoulder pressed into hers, the tremble surged through him, like a hare twitching and thumping in panic. “Whatever you want, take it.”
“What do you think I’m doing?” The boy laughed and slung orange peeling over his shoulder. “Vern, get outside and watch the drive. Let me know when they come.”
“B–but—”
“You want me to throw this knife in your gizzard?”
“No, Orkey.”
“Then do as I say. And take this.” He lobbed an apple across the room. “You ain’t ate all day. Something that ain’t never gonna happen to us again when this is over.”
Whatever had troubled Vern seemed to diminish. His dark-circled eyes brightened a little, as he nodded, rubbed the apple against his rags, and left the room.
Orkey laughed. “He wouldn’t last no time without someone like me to watch out for him.”
“You do that very well, I see,” said Meg.
“Watch now.” Orkey bounded toward her. He landed one swift slap across her face. “You’re not so mighty and fine now, you little lady thing.”
The sting wrought heat throughout her face.
And fury.
Lord Cunningham straightened. “If it is money you require, you shall have it. No price is too grand.”
“After this is over, I’ll already have money.”
“Then influence. Of a certain, there must be some service I may render you.”
“I’m a simple man.” The boy broadened his chest. “I don’t need much. Something to eat. Someplace to sleep.” He dropped his hand back to Meg. This time, his fingers skirted along her jaw with softness. “Someone to sleep with.”
“Unhand her this moment,” gasped Lord Cunningham.
“Love her that much, do you?”
“You could not possibly comprehend the intricate passions of love. They are beyond you.”
“Well, seeing as I ain’t never had no one to love, you might just be right.” Orkey sheathed his knife behind his tattered coat. “What if I told you there was a way I’d let you go upstairs with nary a scratch on you? Safe’n sound with that little sick daughter till all this is over.”
“You already know I would give anything.”
“Anything, eh?”
