Chapter Twenty-Three
James’s frustration grew as the innkeeper shook his head. “No, My Lord, no one the likes of her has been by here in the last few days. As a matter of fact, we have had few travelers stop in at all. Most want to get to wherever they’re going as quickly as possible and then stay off the roads with all this rain. Will I give her a message if she arrives? What name will she give?”
“No,” James sighed. “That will be all. Thank you.” This inn was the latest of many in which he had stopped to inquire if anyone matching Sarah’s description had stopped in the past day, but no one had seen her. He even inquired at several cottages along the way in the hopes that she had asked for directions or some other request, but to no avail.
Though he would not give up, he had to admit that worry plagued him. With each passing heartbeat, that worry increased, and it was tenfold since finding Molly.
“My Lord, there’s a man in the pub now who came in maybe an hour ago if you’d like to ask him.” The man bent forward and lowered his voice. “Though, I doubt he’s got enough brains about him to have noticed a woman unless she were wandering around in her shift.” He gave a loud guffaw at his attempt at humor, but James found his words unamusing. When the innkeeper realized that James was not laughing, he cleared his throat and added, “Anyway, you might ask him if he’s seen anyone like the woman you’re asking about.”
James doubted highly that speaking to some random man who happened to be out on the road would get him any new information. However, a drink sounded good after the hours of riding, so he thanked the innkeeper and walked through the small opening to where tables and chairs were set up in a small room. The stone fireplace was large and the fire blazing within it was substantial enough to begin drying his clothes as he walked past. His eyes scanned the room until they fell on two men in the corner drinking and laughing. Neither had noticed him walk into the room so engaged in their conversation were they. James walked over to a makeshift bar and asked the man behind it for a brandy.
As the bartender poured his drink, James leaned against the bar and watched the men at the table. The elder of the two had bright red hair and a matching beard that was long and curly. His distinct Scottish accent made it difficult for James to understand what he said, but it was not he who James had an interest.
The younger man had hair that was matted to his head as if he had not washed in months. His clothes were a dull gray and James wondered what color they had been when he first donned them. The crooked nose said he had been in more than one fight in his life and he had lost most of them. Unless his opponent looked worse than he did.
“So, she got her prince from the sea and I got drinkin’ money,” the younger of the men said and the two belted out another round of laughter after clinking their mugs together.
A cold chill rushed down James’s spine. There was only one woman he knew who would say such a thing, and she was not one to share her tales with a man the likes as the one sitting at the table. He slammed the glass on the counter, the amber liquid sloshing over the sides and the bartender giving him a gruff chastise for almost breaking one of the only glasses in the place. However, James cared nothing for the brandy or the glass in which it sat. This man knew where Sarah was, and if James had to beat it out of him, he would.
“Repeat what you said!” James said. If the man had known him, he would have recognized the underlining threat to his voice.
“Who the hell are you listenin’ in on a honest man’s talkin’?” the man asked as he leaned back in his chair.
James grabbed the man by the collar of his filthy coat and slammed him against the wall, his head making a satisfying thump against the stone. “I asked you to repeat what you just said, or I will take you out behind this fine establishment and beat you until even your own mother will not recognize you.” His face was mere inches from the man’s. “And trust me, I can do it.”
The elder man moved away and the younger shot him a glare. “Ain’t you goin’ to help me?” he managed to choke out.
“I don’t know nothing about nothing,” the Scotsman said as he grabbed a dilapidated hat and clutched it tightly in his hands.
“I will count to three, and if you haven’t told me what I want to know…just know that I keep my promises.”
The man gasped for air as James tightened the hold on his collar, which also tightened against his throat. “Fine, I’ll tell you!”
Although James did not release him, he did loosen his hold. “Go on, then.”
“I just said ‘a prince from the sea’, you know, coming off a ship, nothin’ more. It was something told to me.”
James released the man but blocked his way in case he decided to attempt a quick escape. “Continue.”
“That’s it. A woman said something about wanting a prince and a ship or something.” The man looked as if he was about ready to cry.
James had no time for pity. “The woman who told you that? Where is she?”
The man hesitated.
“I am the Duke of Pillberton,” James said through clenched teeth as he leaned into the man one again. It took every everything he had in him not to do as he promised even if the man were able to lead him to Sarah. “With one word I could have you hanged in the streets before the sun rises if you do not give me the answer I seek.”
The red-headed man gasped as he stood staring at James, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide as his face turned an sickly white. “The Duke of Pillberton?” he said in a near whisper. “Marcus, that’s the man who burned down that woman’s garden as a child! Killed a dozen people in the process! Tell him what he wants to know, for God’s sake!”
Marcus nodded, his face matching the Scotsman’s hue. “She’s with Harry at the cottage of the Widow Barlow. Well, she ain’t really a widow anymore seeing as she died a few weeks back.”
“Where is this cottage?” James asked, his anger hotter than the fire blazing beside him.
The man pointed toward a window. “The road back out of town, take the first left. It’s down aways, but it’s the only cottage you come across for some time.”
James took a step away from Marcus and the man slumped in relief. However, he did not take his eyes off the man as he spoke. “Know this, if I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to do what I must. I would finish your drink immediately, leave and never return.”
The man nodded, his eyes so wide they reflected the entirety of the room.
James hurried to the door and over to the innkeeper. He had paid the man to stable Molly, giving him extra to see that she had oats for her dinner.
“I will need my horse brought back around.” When the man made no move to do his bidding, James raised his voice. “Not tomorrow! Get on with it!”
“Y-yes, My Lord. Right away!” He called over to young man in mismatched and oversized livery.
However, James did not want to wait a moment longer. Instead, he swore under his breath and shoved past the young man without even a second glance. Then he himself ran to the stables to collect Thunder. He had the saddle placed on Thunder in no time and was racing down the road toward Widow Barlow’s cottage and the woman he loved.
This Harry had best pray that Sarah was safe, because James was unsure as to what he would do to the man if she was hurt in any way.
***
James took a left as directed as Thunder kicked up large splashes of water. The legs of his breeches were soaked through, but James cared not; the only worry he had was for Sarah. For a brief moment, he wondered if the man named Marcus had lied to him about Sarah's whereabouts. However, as he reflected back to the look of fear on the man’s face and the frightened tone his friend had used told him that what he had said had been the truth.
He had not paid attention to the elder man’s story about James and his terrorizing of a family, but it would be something about which he would have to ask Sarah later. The thought of her brought on a feeling of urgency and James dug his heels into Thunder’s flanks to urge him to go even faster. He prayed the road was safe enough for the horse to travel at such a speed in the deplorable weather, but at this moment, his only thoughts were of getting to Sarah before something dreadful happened to her.
For some time he rode, then a flash of lightning lit up the night sky and at the same time illuminated a lone cottage in the distance. There was smoke rising from its chimney and a faint glow in the window telling him that someone was there. He slowed Thunder and then came to a stop at least a hundred feet from the building. It had to be the cottage where Sarah was being held, for he had passed no other for miles. Though he did not know how many men were involved in this crime, he had gathered from the conversation with Marcus that only one would be here at this moment. There could be ten and James still would not be balked. He would save Sarah no matter the number of men he had to fight to do it.
The rain muted Thunder’s steps as James moved up to the door. His Sarah was inside waiting to be rescued. She had told him repeatedly of her dreams of a prince saving her from danger, and now was his chance to do just that.
He slid off the horse and tied the reins to a small tree beside the cottage. With long strides, his feet sank in the mud as he made his way to the door. A voice he recognized as Sarah’s came to his ears. The sound brought joy to his heart and hope to his mind, but the words confused him. He pressed his ear to the door and listened to what she was saying.
“Harry, you beast!” she was saying in a husky tone that make James’s blood boil. “See how my bosom heaves for you?”
“I do and it is a lovely bosom,” the man, who must have been Harry, said in a tone that expressed a sheer happiness that dug into James’s back as if a knife had been lodged there.
“Kiss me more,” Sarah cooed. “Bring my desires for you to their peak!”
“You mean like this?” Harry asked.
“Yes!” Sarah cried. “My desire is overflowing for you. Please, a few more drinks and your wonderful kisses and I will be yours!”
That was it! James stood back and gaped at the door that separated him from the woman he loved. He had no idea what was happening, but he would put a stop to it if it was the last thing he did. There was no need for her to give her innocence away to this scoundrel, and getting drunk would not take away the regret she would surely feel come morning.
Sarah wanted a chivalrous prince to rescue her from her day of peril. That day had come, and her hero was there. With a shout of anger, he kicked open the door and then stopped dead in his tracks, not believing what he saw before him.