Chapter 16
Kate
Kate crouched lower, watching, waiting. The stack of water barrels by the stable wall hid her from sight but allowed her a clear view of the servants’ entrance. The eerie glow from the lantern hanging in the yard could not reach her here.
She adjusted the clasp of the navy wool cloak, the fabric itching at her neck.
The selection at the nearest shop had been meager, according to Tess.
Kate could not tell her maid that itching was not conducive to keeping watch, so she accepted it with thanks.
All that mattered now was the darkness of the fabric.
The new garment was not her only precaution. She had left a note by Tess’s bedside, assuring her that Kate had gone after Lord Brenton and asking her not to raise an alarm unless she had not returned by morning.
She pulled her cloak tighter as a brisk wind whistled through the yard, scattering leaves in its wake. The gust was sharp with the taste of salt and ship tar carried up from the harbor, and she shivered as the chill found every gap in the fabric.
As her legs went numb and she questioned the wisdom of her hiding place, the hinges on the servants’ door protested in the dark silence.
A lone figure slipped out. The man scanned the yard before crossing it, keeping his back against the stone wall.
The moonlight did her a favor, confirming his identity. James.
He carried a small unlit lantern and disappeared around the corner into the street.
Kate darted out from behind the barrels, careful to keep her footsteps light as she followed after him.
He was walking in the same direction they had taken that morning, the streetlamps reflecting on the shuttered buildings and darkened shop windows.
Kate kept a hurried pace to keep up with his long strides, but the damp cobblestones were slick and each step threatened to echo.
James walked with purpose, choosing the darker side of the street without hesitation.
It was difficult to see him clearly from where she followed, but she said a prayer of thanks for the quiet streets that made it easier, even if they left her with little cover.
Only a few souls wandered about at this hour, either too drunk or too absorbed in their own business to pay her any mind.
James turned a corner, taking a direction she did not recognize.
She hurried forward, but her foot slipped on the wet stones.
A small gasp escaped before she righted herself.
She reached the corner where he had disappeared.
Her stomach dropped when she found only shadows.
But he could not have gone far. Scanning side streets and doorways for the tall, dark figure, she moved forward as the eerie silence of the lane pressed in on her.
The only movement was a light mist drifting between the narrow buildings.
A hand clamped over her mouth as a strong arm circled her waist and dragged her into a dark alleyway.
Panic rose, but his grip stifled her scream.
She threw her elbow back, drawing a low grunt from her attacker.
She brought her heel down on his foot with as much force as she could manage and twisted against his hold.
His grip loosened, and she drew back, ready to land another blow, but a deep, familiar voice murmured in her ear, “Kate, it’s me.
Be still. Men are just around the corner. ”
Her panic eased, and she forced herself not to move.
Footsteps and laughter echoed off the walls.
Kate resisted the urge to lean back against James while they waited for the men to move away.
Once the voices faded into the night, she twisted and he released her at once.
She straightened her cloak and turned to face him.
James leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
He glanced toward the mouth of the alley and rubbed the side of his torso before regarding her with an intensity that made her feel uncomfortably exposed.
“Would you care to explain what you are doing?” he asked.
“I should think it rather obvious, Lord Brenton.”
“I thought we had decided that you would stay at the inn.”
“Ah, well, then you would be mistaken. I decided no such thing.”
He raked his hand through his hair. “Blast, Kate, can’t you see that I am only trying to protect you? Every time I turn around, you are walking toward danger as though it were a garden path.”
“I wanted a partnership, remember?” Her throat constricted. “But you refused. Do you truly think me so incapable?”
James went still, his frustration faltering. A rare uncertainty softened his expression, as though the accusation had struck somewhere he had not expected. “I have never doubted your intelligence or your courage. They are precisely why you keep finding your way into these situations.”
“Then why do you insist on shutting me out completely?”
His jaw tightened, and something like agony crossed his face. “Because every step you take toward this affair places you in greater danger.”
“And you believe that gives you the right to make decisions for me?”
“I believe it gives me the right to keep you alive.”
“At the cost of my choice? I am not a piece you can move across a board as you see fit.”
Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. She refused to yield, and for once, James seemed to accept it.
James let out a weary sigh, the mist clinging to his hair. “If we do this,” he said, his voice dropping, “you must promise me something.”
“That depends on what it is.”
“Kate,” he said, his patience fraying.
“Very well. What do you need me to promise?”
“I need your word, Kate. No—I need your vow. You stay by my side. You follow my lead. No improvising.”
She could abide by that. “Agreed.”
“I also need you to promise that if anything should happen to me, you will return to the inn by whatever means necessary and leave Dover as quickly as possible. Do not tarry.”
The sternness in his expression left her breathless, then vanished, giving way to something far less certain.
“Promise me you will save yourself, even if it means leaving me behind.”
She nodded. This was not the full partnership she wanted, but it was a beginning.
He held out his hand, the gesture seeming to carry more weight than just their current mission. She hesitated for only a heartbeat before accepting it.
“Come on, Kate. Time to be bold.”
They moved through the darker streets, their earlier argument lingering between them even as her hand remained in his. James set a careful pace, pausing twice to listen before urging her forward.
As they neared the warehouse, a raucous laugh burst through the still air.
Kate startled, and James pulled her with him toward a brick building.
A watchman approached from the end of the street, a drunk in tow who seemed vastly amused by his own predicament.
The watchman’s focus was on the drunk. For now.
One glance and he would see them. They could not afford to be seen or remembered.
Kate searched frantically. There was nowhere for them to hide.
James guided her back against the shop front and stepped in front of her, blocking her from view. His sudden proximity demanded her full attention. “Do you trust me?”
He had asked that before. She did not know what he had planned, but her answer was the same. “Yes.”
The laughter drew closer. James set down the lantern and placed his hands on either side of her head. He studied her as the rowdy voice grew louder, then bent his head. Anticipation flooded through her. The sheer warmth of him made her heart race.
When his mouth was a mere breath away from hers, he lowered his head to her neck, brushing the tip of his nose against her skin, up along the sensitive line of her throat.
His lips were not touching her yet, but her blood had already turned to ice and then fire.
She was aware of James’s strength, of how little space remained between them, of his mouth near the hollow beneath her ear.
“Kate.” The name was a ragged whisper against her skin, more breath than word. She closed her eyes at the brush of his lips on her neck, so soft she might have imagined it. James shifted, and his warmth was replaced with a shock of cold.
“Kate.” Why did he keep saying her name? “Kate.” She blinked at the streetlamps’ glow. James was watching her with an amused, slightly dazed expression. Only then did she notice the departing figures.
“We had better hurry. Sunrise will be here in a few hours.” His mouth curved. “Though I would not object if circumstances required such a performance again.”
He urged her forward and they quickened their pace toward the docks, avoiding the main streets until they reached the warehouse. The streetlamps in the distance threw a pale wash of light across the side of the building as James drew her into the shadowed recess beside the neighboring warehouse.
She tilted her head in question. “Guards,” he whispered, just as she spotted a looming figure pass by the door of the building and disappear around the corner.
It was dark, cold, and they might be walking into danger, but she could not deny the flush of exhilaration that ran through her.
Yet beneath it, guilt stirred, cold and heavy, for the truth she did not yet dare reveal.
After several tense minutes, the same guard completed another circuit of the warehouse. James squeezed her hand once, then moved. They hurried toward the warehouse door, the scent of wet timber and brine thick in the air. She reached out to push the door open, but it did not budge.
Disappointed, she turned to James, wondering if they should search for another entrance, but he was already pulling a leather pouch from his pocket, opening it to reveal several small metal tools.