Wings Of The Morning Part 25

"Dallas, what is it?"

"Nothing," he said, but Smokey was not convinced "Have I done something?"

"No, no," Dallas tried to rea.s.sure her and reached for her hand He worked at controlling his expression, realizing he could not let his feelings show until they had time alone to talk.

Seeing Smokey with the baby had put Dallas' thoughts in a whirl. His mind had suddenly pictured Smokey as his wife, his wife to love and hold. He saw her swollen with child as Jenny now was, but the baby was his--theirs--and he was there for the birth. He saw her on a blanket in Maine with their own dark-haired child grinning at her. He saw himself playing with his own baby, not Brandon with Sterling.

"tonight, he told himself. Tonight I'll ask her. I'llaskherto be my own for as long as we both live. We've been apart so much that I'll ask her to marry me right now so we can begin our life together immediately.

Dallas' resolve gave him such a feeling of peace that it showed on his face. Smokey found herself staring at him again. She was still coming to know this man, so she wasn't certain, but he suddenly looked very satisfied to her. She told herself that one of these days they would be close enough so 209.

she could ask him. One of these days, she found herself hoping, she might even be his wife.

The coach and driver delivering Da.r.s.ey to London were not due back at Bracken until the following day. Just before dinner, however, there was a sudden commotion when the driver arrived back early.

Parks was there to meet him, and after hearing his story, turned to seek out the family. Within minutes Brandon, Sunny, and Dallas were gathered to hear his account. Smokey, coming quietly downstairs to the entryway, heard also.

"They arrested him almost immediately, sir, as if they'd been waiting." Brandon's coachman was breathless with excitement.

"And you think Haamich Wynn is behind it?"

"I don't know about that, sir, but the talk all over London is that he's been released and the Aramis has been confiscated and her crew arrested for piracy."

Something cold ran down Smokey's spine, but she knew what must be done. She turned from where she had been standing on the bottom step to move backup the stairs. Dallas spotted her and caught her wrist just in time.

"Let go of me, Dallas. I've got to go to my s.h.i.+p."

"Smokey, listen to me--" Dallas began, but the young captain cut him off.

"No. You listen to me, Dallas." Her voice was calm, but no one within earshot could have missed the underlying note of steel. "I would love the luxury of sitting back and letting you take care of me, but I'm the captain of that s.h.i.+p and responsible to my men. I will go to London, and you'll not talk me out of it."

"I'm not trying to," Dallas began again, tightening his hold on her wrist. "I'm just asking you to wait until morning. We can do nothing tonight."

212.

Smokey hesitated, and Brandon cut in.

"He's right, Smokey. It would be after midnight by the time we arrived. I doubt if even /could see anyone of importance at that time of the night."

Smokey stood in indecision, her heart so broken over Da.r.s.ey's arrest that she thought she might be sick.

"I need to be away before dawn," she told them.

'You realize," Brandon began, "there's a good chance you will be arrested as well."

Smokey had not thought of that, but it changed nothing.

"I still need to leave for London before dawn."

"The carriage will be ready," Brandon promised her.

Smokey nodded When she would have thanked them and continued up the stairs, Dallas tugged on her arm.

"Come to dinner and try to eat something."

"I have to pack."

"I imagine you'll be up most of the night. You can pack then. You need to eat."

Standing on the first step made Smokey almost level with Dallas, and for a moment she could only look into his eyes.

'Tell me you understand, Dallas."

"I understand completely," he said to her utter relief. "I just didn't want you riding to London tonight with no food or sleep."

Smokey nodded, and Dallas realized they were alone. He stepped near, his arms going around her. Smokey needed his closeness right now in a way she'd never needed it before.

When he would have stepped away, she wrapped her arms around his neck, Dallas was more than happy to comply and hugged her again, holding her firmly for some time.

"Come into the dining room, darling," he said when he could speak. "You won't want much, but you need to eat."

Smokey agreed and startled herself by eating a fairly decent meal. She surprised herself again after going to bed.

After praying with her whole being, she actually gained a few hours of sleep. She woke to find Brandon good at his word 211.

His largest carriage, pulled by four horses, left Bracken more than an hour before daybreak, after a tearful farewell with Sunny. Smokey was inside, hair braided and dressed for work Seated beside her was Dallas. Across from them was Brandon.

The duke's face was calm, but he was a man who clearly needed answers. Looking at his stern visage, Smokey could almost find it in her heart to pity Haamich Wynn.

213.

smokey's view of the akamis from the carriage window was one to make her heart pound. She had halfway hoped to find that this was all a frightful mistake, but not seeing a single familiar face, as well as the heavy guard apparent at the foot of the gangplank, made her heart plummet.

The magnificent carriage stopped, drawing attention from nearly everyone. Dallas alighted to give Smokey a hand Brandon was directly behind her, but not even he could stop the happenings of the next few minutes.

"Miss Simmons?" a voice spoke, and the three of them turned to see a young officer approach, "Yes, I'm Miss Simmons. Where is my crew?"

"If you'll come with me, please," the constable said, ignoring her question.

"Where are you taking her?" Brandon spoke calmly, and the officer looked surprised "I'm sorry, your lords.h.i.+p, but Miss Simmons is under arrest."

"And what are the charges?"

"Piracy," another, older constable came on the scene and answered. His demeanor was that of one in control, but his voice was respectful. "I'm afraid Miss Simmons will have to come with us, my lord."

Dallas was ready to jump in at Smokey's defense, but Brandon, wearing his position and power like a cape, spoke up.

"I will be handling Miss Simmons' case myself, constable."

"Yes, sir," the other man answered, his face serious.

The younger officer stepped forward then and put a hand on Smokey's arm to lead her away. She looked back over her shoulder at Brandon and Dallas. Her face was a mask of numb surprise.

Dallas shared her shock, but for just an instant. He recovered quickly, and when he started after her, Brandon moved his entire body to block him.

"Don't do it, Dallas," Brandon said as he, with no little effort, held his friend against the side of the carriage.

"I can't let them take her, Hawk! Did you see her face? I've got to do something!" Dallas' eyes were wide with panic, but Brandon only shook his head "You can do nothing for her right now. Your interference would only get you arrested as well. Pray, Dallas, and trust G.o.d to work this out. I'll do all I can to set her free."

Smokey's mind was in a ma.s.s of confusion as she was led to a waiting carriage and then to a part of London that was new to her. The ride seemed very brief. In no time at all, Smokey was being led inside a huge stone structure. Her head craned back to take it in as they moved inside, and Smokey wondered if this was the infamous "Tower."

She was given little time to speculate, but was led immediately inside and to a cell. There was no rough treatment and few words spoken as she was locked inside. Smokey stood for a long moment and just stared The room was s.p.a.cious with a large, barred window, and Smokey was surprised at the cleanliness. It was dry and swept, 214.

with a cot in one corner. Smokey's relief was so great that she moved to the room's one chair and sank gratefully down.

She started to pray, giving this nightmarish situation over to the Lord She committed herself, Dallas, her men, and everyone involved to her heavenly Father. She'd been praying for the better part of two hours when she heard movement and voices in the corridor without.

"Smokey."

Smokey stood quickly, unable to believe her ears, and moved to look at the barred portal in the door.

"Dallas!"

"Are you all right?" His voice was anxious.

"Yes." Smokey felt breathless with relief as she stood on tiptoe in order to be nearer the man she loved "Have you come to get me?"

"No." Dallas' voice and eyes were pained "But Brandon is working on it."

"All right. Have you talked to Da.r.s.ey or the men?" Now Smokey's voice was anxious.

"They're all right; just worried about you," Dallas replied "They didn't hurt you?"

"No. It's not bad in here at all. It's just that I'm..." she hesitated slightly, "a little frightened."

"No need to be," The surety of Dallas' voice calmed her.

"G.o.d is with you, and I know He's going to show us the best way to help you."

Smokey nodded, unable to speak. Dallas' fingers were suddenly there through the bars, and Smokey reached her own to touch his. For just an instant they let their eyes and fingers speak for their hearts. The next minute a voice was heard in the corridor, and Dallas' face disappeared from view.

Before Smokey could turn away, Brandon's face appeared beyond the bars. He spoke gently, and Smokey took his words to heart. "Don't give up hope, Smokey. I'll do everything within my power to set you free."

215.

Brandon's "everything" was something to behold Dallas accompanied Lord Hawkesbury to the office of a private investigator, where he paid the man a huge retainer to immediately go to work on the case.

When they were back in the carriage, Brandon ordered his driver to Parliament. Confidently striding into this building, Brandon moved into offices where Dallas could not follow in order to gain the real news of this case.

The charge against Smokey Simmons, captain of the Aramis, was piracy, and the rumors about the actual pirate were all too true--Haamich Wynn was a free man. The problem, as Brandon did more research, stemmed from the fact that Haamich Wynn had an airtight alibi for every charge.

Lord Darrell Lynne had reputable witnesses, one of whom was the prime minister himself, who had seen him at b.a.l.l.s, parties, and even on the streets of London each and every time he was supposed to be attacking a s.h.i.+p.

By the evening of the first day, Brandon had gathered enough conflicting information to baffle a genius. He and Dallas retired to Brandon and Sunny's town house in the early evening, both men feeling spent and confused They talked over dinner and then for hours afterward before both went to bed exhausted but peaceful. They had formulated a plan. In the morning they would pay a visit to Haamich Wynn.

Neither Brandon nor Dallas would have slept so soundly had they realized that not two hours after they left Smokey, she had a visitor. He was a fat, foul-smelling man who did not use the main entrance to exit the Tower. Fear clawed at Smokey's throat as she was led out of the Tower courtyard and into a back alley to a waiting carriage.

"Where are we going?" she tried to question the man who 216.

217.

seemed to be in charge, but she was simply ignored as the carriage lurched into motion.

Ten minutes later the coach came to a halt in front of London's Klink Prison for women; Smokey could only stare in horror until she was commanded roughly to alight from the carriage and go inside. The smells that a.s.sailed her senses nearly caused her to vomit as she was led below street level to a dark, damp cavern.

She could barely see as she was ushered forward to her cell, but as her eyes became accustomed to the dark, she realized that the inmates of Klink Prison were treated like animals. Pale faces beneath layers of dirt were momentarily illuminated as the lantern moved across their cells. The eyes in those faces were nearly lifeless, as hopeless as Smokey had ever seen.

Smokey was taken all the way to the cell at the end. Until that time no one had touched her, but she suddenly found herself pushed forward over the threshold where she heard the door slam behind her. With just two steps she caught herself, but started violently as a weak but irate voice spoke from the corner.

"Put her across the way in an empty. It's my turn, and I don't want her."

"Shut yer trap, ya old hag," the guard snarled, banging on the bars with his stick. Smokey shrank back from both the Jailer and her cellmate and then watched as the jailer walked away, taking his light with him.

A few moments pa.s.sed before Smokey's eyes acclimated once again to the dark and she took in her cell, illuminated only by a small, filthy window, some ten feet off the floor. The cell was a square, Smokey figured perhaps eight by eight feet in size, with two filthy straw ticks on the floor and a chamber pot in the corner.

Her nearly skeletal cellmate lay p.r.o.ne on one of the ticks and spoke when Smokey's eyes met hers.

"You'll not 'ave all that pretty flesh on yer for long," she said in a voice weak from her surroundings as well as her age.

"How long have you been in here?" Smokey asked, although not sure why she did.

"This time? A month, maybe two. Down 'ere, you lose count."

Smokey suddenly felt as if her legs were going to go out from under her. She moved to the edge of the unoccupied tick and sank to her knees. Her pants grew immediately damp, but she couldn't force herself to stand again.

With a shudder that ran over her entire body, she let her shoulder fall against the damp stone wall. The old woman appeared to be sleeping. Smokey let her own eyes slide shut, only she didn't sleep. She silently prayed the only words that would come to mind as her world began to close in to the point that she thought it would suffocate her.

Help me, Father, I beg of You. Help me to believe You never make mistakes.

"I'm sorry, you must be mistaken, my lord," the young footman told Brandon the next morning as he and Dallas tried to gain information from the doorman of a rather seedy club in the heart of London.

"We have not now, nor ever, had a member by the name of Lord Lynne." The servant's air was so superior that Brandon wanted to laugh, but he also felt the man was telling the truth.

That day and into the next had led them to one dead end after another in an effort to speak with Darrell Lynne. A visit to Lord Lynne's London town house had directed them to his club. They had gone to White's, only to come up empty, and finally now to this club, where no one had ever heard of him either. Brandon was beginning to wonder if the agency he had hired was going to offer him anything more than empty leads.

He also began to wonder how many aliases the pirate had Their choices were quickly narrowing down. Brandon and Dallas would have to ride out into the country where Lynne's 218.

wife lived in hopes of tracking the man down. Brandon knew!