The Wicked Marquis by Mary Lancaster

Author:Mary Lancaster
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2018-02-16T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

COMMUNICATION BETWEEN MEMBERS of the castle patrol was clearly the problem. The next soldier Doverton and Tamar encountered had no idea of the attack on his fellow, and since he’d been watching the cliff path to the beach, he’d seen no sign of intruders coming the other way.

Leaving the injured Cobbler with him, Tamar and Doverton moved as swiftly and quietly as they could toward the other side of the castle. Suddenly, Doverton halted and flung out his arm to flatten himself and Tamar against the wall. A man walked out of the courtyard and straight past them. His elbow, crooked to steady the cask on his shoulder, almost brushed against Tamar’s chest.

Unmoving, they watched him lurch along the path, past the orchard and beyond, into the wood.

Doverton began to follow at once. Tamar, torn by the desire to stay and guard the castle in general, and Serena in particular, hesitated before a faint light coming from the wood told him there were other men there, too. He loped after Doverton.

It seemed that things were finally moving. On the forest track, a cart stood in the moonlight with two casks already on it. Two men also crouched on the cart, rubbing their shoulders while the man Tamar and Doverton had been following, approached them.

Their man paused, jerking his head back toward the castle, presumably in silent instruction to bestir themselves once more and bring the rest.

Amid indistinguishable mutterings, they’d started to obey when someone leapt out of the bushes—a red-uniformed soldier, his rifle aimed somewhat shakily at the cart. “Halt in the name of the king!”

Doverton groaned. “In the name of… What in hell is he doing?”

One of these men had already pursued Serena with a knife and struck down another soldier from behind. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill this one. When Doverton leapt out of the shadows, crashing through the undergrowth to join his man, Tamar was right beside him.

“Everyone halt and nobody fire!” Doverton yelled.

All heads jerked toward them. The man they were following hurled his cask onto the cart, where one man caught and steadied it. The other man on the cart leapt forward, seizing the reins and lashing the horse who lunged forward with a cry of protest, directly at the soldier who promptly dropped his rifle and bolted.

Meanwhile, the man they’d been following whipped round to face Tamar and Doverton once more. And he held a pistol. “Stop,” he commanded.

By the time they skidded to a halt, there wasn’t much distance between them. It might have been the lantern light, but the man’s eyes seemed to glint with venomous fury, perhaps because his task had been interrupted, even in such a farcically inefficient manner.

The cart halted once more. Their man backed up to it, still holding the pistol aimed alternately at Doverton and Tamar. He eased his hip onto the cart, which was now slowly turning until the horse returned to the track. There was nothing to stop it leaving. And very little Tamar and Doverton could do to follow it on foot.

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