Lady Bess

“Right ye are, Mama.” He nodded towards the boy. “What about him? I don’t fancy a lot of bloodshed—he is just a lad.”

She made a derisive sound. “Ye are too good fer yer own sake, Raphael, but never ye mind. I’ve got a special recipe for dinner jest for ’im, I do.”

He sighed heavily, tipped his peaked cap, and made off for one of his cob horses. He threw on a hackamore and mounted the large steed bareback before waving himself off.

His mother looked after him for a time and grumbled to herself for a moment before she turned to Thomas, who had watched the proceedings with wide and frightened eyes.

“Ye have been a troublesome boy, but it will all be over soon.” She then proceeded to climb the steps back into her caravan, mumbling a string of oaths and grumbling about the hardships of her life as she disappeared within its depths.

It was then that Bess made up her mind. She didn’t have time to waste. The Gypsy man was gone, the old woman wasn’t a challenge, and this was likely to be the only opportunity she’d have to get to the boy and free him.

She slinked through the trees and made a wild dash for the remaining cob horse, who was grazing on the lush grass, unable to run because of the hobble tied around his back leg. She undid the hobble in the hope that he would wander off.

She turned and saw the boy watching her, his eyes wide with hope, and she rushed towards him.

Bess went to the boy and put a finger to her lips as a warning for him to be quiet. She removed the rag from his mouth and whispered, “Watch as best you can for me while I undo your ties.” She then managed to undo the binding at his wrists, which were tied at his back, while he undid the rope at his ankles. The knotted rope that kept him tethered to the wagon’s wheel proved to be more difficult to manage.

She had finally got this undone when the boy cried out.

Bess turned to find the Gypsy woman swinging a cane and coming towards her.

“Run, Thomas, to the road, run—I have friends coming!” she called to him as she squared off with the old woman.

“But … you …” he objected bravely as he stood his ground.

“Never mind me,” she said, shoving the boy off and putting her hand in her pocket to retrieve her gun as she ducked the woman’s wide-swinging cane.

Bess leveled her little gun and said with all the gusto she could bluster, “I would think twice about what you are now doing. You see, it is time for me to tell your fortune, and I’m afraid it is worse, much worse, and far more certain, than the reading you gave me. Yours is inevitable. You are in more than a little danger.”

“Oi’ll kill ye fer this, ye stupid rich tart!” the old woman spat at her.

“If I were you, I would try and escape me and leave the area as fast as you can. You see, I have friends coming even as we speak. They will arrive, and your fate will then be sealed, for they will be armed and ready, and you will be brought to justice.”

“And ye will be dead,” said a male voice full of hatred at her back.

Startled, she spun around, but the Gypsy had already grabbed her. “Eh, Mama, ’tis a good thing I come back fer m’gun.”

Bess struggled as best she could, for he was attempting to take her pistol from her and didn’t seem to mind breaking her arm in the process. She had to do something, or all would be lost. She decided to try and get off a shot.

Without taking aim and hoping for the best, Bess took her shot. She was pleasantly astounded to find she had hit her mark.

She had shot him in the foot, and he was hopping on the other, shrieking in agony and telling his mother to kill her.

Bess was ready to make a wild dash for it. It should be easy enough to outrun an old lady and a man who was now as hobbled as his horse.

Her body was shaking, but she held onto her gun and kept on backing towards the road, keeping the Gypsy man in her sights. He couldn’t run, but once he had his gun he could shoot at her. She didn’t want to get shot in the back while she ran.

What she had forgotten was his cane-swinging mother, who had managed to make her way to Bess’s blind spot and suddenly came at her in a total fury. The old woman hit her mark and landed Bess a body blow that sent her flying back and onto the grass.

She lay there a moment, bruised and winded, but she didn’t think anything was broken. Then she heard a Scotsman’s roar as the earl dismounted and in one fluid, God-like movement knocked out the Gypsy man. He then threw the old Gypsy woman to Robby, telling him to truss her up.

She had seen his full-throttled action and felt a flood of warmth, but even so, the world as she saw it continued to spin out of control. Her gaze seemed clouded over, and she realized she had been more traumatized by the flush hit she had received than she knew. Suddenly, she was sure she was about to swoon.

She had never fainted before, but for some reason, frazzled nerves, pain, and relief made her feel dizzy. It all got to her all at once, and the world began to swim before her eyes. The last thing she saw was the earl’s blue eyes, and the last thing she heard was his dear, wonderful accent as he said, “Coom, love, I have ye, I do, that’s a bonny lass.”

~ Fifteen ~

BESS’s LASHES FLUTTERED open, and she looked up to find the earl’s handsome face peering down at her. She sm