Summer Of Love Part 28

"Yes, Joe-what's his name again? ... Oh, it escapes me right now-"

"I didn't know he had a last name," she interjected sarcastically.

"Anyway, Joe came with this young woman, claiming to be the young man's father, and the turnkey didn't recognize him-he was so neatly made up, and then he exchanged places with the prisoner."

"n.o.body recognize him? I mean, this is hard to believe."

"I agree with you fully, but that's water down the Clyde. We've been searching for them ever since last evening. I won't rest until we catch them."

"Ah... In this area?"

"Yes, we'll check every vessel leaving the wharf."

"I see, as a precaution? ... But come to think of it, the la.s.s must have come down to the wharf, otherwise she couldn't've engaged Joe, ... unless Joe's really the young man's father. His wife had a teenage son when she finally got sick of his drinking and returned to her folks in Lanark. It must be nigh ten years ago already."

"I don't think so. I actually arrested the young man. He claimed to come from Argyle, although my impression was that he's English. He has a strong southern accent. The trouble is, I should have taken a more careful look at his wife when I arrested him at The Good Shepherd."

"They stayed at The Good Shepherd? They've expensive taste!"

"I guess you're right... Look, Rose, the reason I'm here is to ask if you did see the young woman. All we know is that she has red hair, is of medium height, dresses expensively-according to the turnkey, she wore a gray skirt, white blouse, and dark jacket. He also said that she's good-looking. 'Striking' was the word he used. The trouble is that no more than half an hour ago I talked to a young woman who fitted that description. But when we chased after a young man who had been seen hiding in Jarvis' warehouse, she got away from one of our new recruits."

"She got away?" Outraged surprise colored her voice. "What kind of recruits do you get now-a-days who can't even hold on to a young woman?"

"Oh, she was quite nasty."

"What do you mean by nasty?"

"She kicked him in the groin. He still has trouble standing straight, the stupid fellow."

Rose whistled through her teeth, shaking her head. "She's quite a la.s.s. First, springing her man from prison and then cutting down a policeman... I can't help admiring her a bit."

"Yes, she is. I really misjudged that pair completely. When the provost told me to lock up the young man, I felt quite sorry. He had this innocent look about him. But I'll have no pity for him, not after what happened last night. How he got his wife to fool the prison wardens so brazenly is beyond me!"

Naturally, it would never occur to you that a woman planned all this, she said silently to herself, smiling inside, feeling smug.

He continued: "You know, we searched all over the city for that horse, every single inn. I think yours was the only one we didn't search, but then only sailors would ever know of your place anyway."

She suppressed a grin and nodded vigorously.

"And then in the middle of last night, we got this anonymous letter that we would find the horse in the stables of The Golden Eagle. And it was there. But when our men tried to detain the highlanders who were lodging there and claimed to own the four horses in the stable, they got beaten up rather badly. The one guarding the stallion managed to ride away and call for reenforcements, but when we got to the inn, the four had vanished."

"You don't say! Could they have been the young man's accomplices?"

Constable Fraser pondered this for a few seconds, as if that thought hadn't occurred to him. "If they were, why would he have denounced them?"

"How do you know that he wrote that anonymous note?"

"We found a second on the stallion, signed by him."

"Well, they may have fallen out with each other. You know how readily these Highlanders pick a quarrel."

"That could explain a few things..." He left the sentence hanging in midair. "Anyway, as I started to say before, we are looking for all of them, and particularly the young couple. The young man is about the same height as I, just a bit slimmer." He patted his bulging stomach. "Black hair, well spoken. He had a full beard, neatly trimmed, but is now probably clean shaven-"

"I haven't seen anybody fitting this description, nor did I see the la.s.s around here," interrupted Rose again, "but if I hear anything, I'll let you know. In fact, I'll make some discreet inquiries among my regulars... So Joe's really involved. I've a hard time believing that. What's going to happen to him now?"

"Apparently, he's still too drunk to be questioned, and he won't remember anything. My guess is they'll let him go in a week or so rather than having to put up with him... But now, I better get back to my patrol and see whether they have found any traces of that young man or his wife. Thanks, Rose, for that delicious coffee. I really should visit you more often."

"Yes, Constable Fraser, you do that!"

She followed him to the door.

"Had any trouble lately?" he asked, pausing briefly on the steps.

"You know me. I won't tolerate trouble... No, all my patrons behave themselves while I'm around."

He nodded, saluted, and walked away briskly in the direction of the wharf. She watched him until he disappeared behind a warehouse. The wind had abated and the cloud cover was hanging even lower, with a fine drizzle falling. After closing the tavern door behind her, she leaned against it and let go a relieved "oomph".

20.

Three hours later, a miserable and cold Andrew sneaked into the backyard of The White Heron, after Owen had made sure the coast was clear. His clothes were still wet, or wet again from the steady drizzle, and all crumpled up. His s.h.i.+rt was a dirty grey, rather than white.

"Oh, look at you, you poor man. You're all wet. Change into something dry," exclaimed Rose, and then she caught herself. "Oh, you left all your things on the Clyde." She filled a cup with hot coffee and pa.s.sed it to him. "Here, have at least something to warm you."

He took the cup gratefully and sipped the hot liquid slowly, looking around, searching for Helen.

"She's asleep," remarked Rose, guessing his intent. "The poor la.s.s just collapsed. I promised to wake her if I got any news from you. But now that you're back safely, we don't have to disturb her."

He simply nodded. He felt leaden himself. After emptying his cup, he begged: "May I see her?"

"Sure!" Rose showed him the way. Outside the door she whispered: "You get undressed and rest too, and give me your clothes. I have them washed and freshened up again."

He entered the little room and watched Helen for a few seconds, before he shed his wet clothes and wrapped himself in a blanket. Then he placed his garments on the floor outside the door.

For a while he wondered what to do. He was reluctant to wake Helen. Should he lie down on the floor? Finally, he decided to join her on the narrow bed. Gently, he moved her closer to the wall. She didn't even stir. With just enough s.p.a.ce, he stretched out next to her. He had barely closed his eyes when sleep conquered him too.

Mid afternoon, Helen woke up. Without opening her eyes, she turned to her side, and her hands touched naked skin. Startled, she shot up and, seeing Andrew sleeping peacefully next to her, fright turned into joy. She observed him quietly. His lips were slightly parted, tempting her to kiss them, but she resisted. She studied his lean torso, his flat stomach, the spa.r.s.e spike of black curls pus.h.i.+ng from his pubic hair to his navel. Her hand reached out to touch them, but stopped short. His flaccid p.e.n.i.s lay on his left thigh a few inches above the pink scar of the bullet wound. A smile played on her face, as she studied its odd shape curiously.

After a while, she carefully slid off the bed, undressed, and emptied her full bladder in the chamber pot. Then she climbed back onto the bed and, lying on her left side, nestled into the crook of his arms, her head on his shoulder, her right hand on his chest, leaning against him, their bodies touching from head to toe. She felt euphoric, hardly able to contain her love, having a need to wake him, to tell him. Almost without thinking, her right hand stroked his torso and came to rest on the spike of curls below his navel. She noticed his manhood filling. How would it be to hold it? For a moment her thoughts shocked her. But he touched her in the most intimate places, why couldn't she touch him? Almost gingerly, she folded her hand around it and couldn't entirely suppress a giggle when it began to swell gradually. She moved her hand down the hardening shaft, freeing its s.h.i.+ny, pink head. Andrew stirred. From the corner of her eyes she saw that he had opened his eyes. Embarra.s.sed, she withdrew her hand.

"Don't stop, love," he whispered, "this feels good."

She folded her fingers again around the erect shaft, moving her hand cautiously up and down, feeling its strangely ribbed texture. She searched his eyes. "Am I doing it right?" she asked hesitantly.

He nodded and then cupped her hand briefly with his own, showing her how to move it more vigorously. Slowly, he tensed his whole body. She sensed her own arousal. Suddenly, his manhood began to pulsate in her hand, the juices spilling onto his belly. Peals of soft laughter rose in her throat. Their eyes met, glowing coals of love. Andrew took her face between his hands and kissed her.

"I needed that . . Where did you learn how to do this?" he asked, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

The question was so unexpected that she blushed in spite of herself. "I discovered it right now," she said defensively. "You're my first and only man!"

"I know, Helen. I was only teasing... I also love playing with all your exciting treasures... You're my treasure trove."

"But you learned doing these things with other women!"

"I did, Helen... Would you rather that I still were the same green lover of four years ago?"

"I loved it fine then."

"I was clumsy, though. Admit it!"

"A bit," she conceded reluctantly and then broke into a broad smile. "And now you're almost too clever. You set me on fire with a single touch."

She got off the bed, wet a cloth in the water bowl and wiped his stomach and p.e.n.i.s clean, giggling as she did. When she had finished, he pulled her down onto the bed and, lying partly on her, covered her with light kisses.

"I love you," he murmured.

A smile twinkled in her eyes. She offered him her lips.

"I want to make love to you," he said softly.

She nodded. Her smile broadened. Her eyes became narrow, blazing slits. "Stay inside me this time," she whispered, as she folded her arms around his neck.

Growling stomachs finally drove them out of bed. Andrew found his clothing, clean and neatly pressed on hangers outside the door. They joined Rose in the kitchen. She was preparing the evening meal.

"I was just going to bang at your door to rouse you from your sleep," she exclaimed. "Or did you wake up already a while ago," she added, winking at them.

Andrew and Helen both blushed, but Helen replied: "Yes, Rose, we did."

"Thanks for doing my clothing," murmured Andrew.

"Oh, that was no trouble at all."

"I forgot to tell you, Rose," said Helen, "I told Captain McGeorge to leave our saddlebags with another s.h.i.+p, and that somebody will pick them up."

"That won't be so simple anymore. Constable Fraser-he's the fellow who arrested you-told me that they're watching the wharf... But maybe if the bags are put into a sack and taken off the boat by a sailor, we might get them past the police. Let me worry about this."

"So they're watching the wharf," repeated Andrew. "Then, we can't leave by the river anymore." He turned to Helen: "We've to flee on horseback!"

"I guess that's the only way now," remarked Rose. "Where are you going?"

"South to England," answered Andrew, while Helen said at the same time: "Into the Western Highlands."

The two young people looked at each other in consternation. Rose laughed spontaneously, and then, seeing their confused expressions, tried to appease them: "I'm sure you want to go together."

"Most boats to America leave from Liverpool. So we'll have to go south," explained Andrew.

"But it will be easier to get away and hide from the police by going into the Western Highlands, and then catch a boat to Ireland and go to America from there," argued Helen.

"Only small boats leave from Ireland."

"So?" Helen countered with a defiant edge.

"Quarters on a small boat are too crammed. There's no privacy." And then he added somewhat derisively: "Besides, a small boat tosses you around horribly. I don't want to be sick all the time."

"Most people survive it. It won't kill us."

"But why go on a small boat, if we could take a comfortable big boat from Liverpool?"

"Because, it's more dangerous to go South." Helen tone of voice was now strident. "Lots of people live there, and it's more likely that we'll be spotted and reported to the authorities than if we went into the Western Highlands."

"But it's a big detour. It will easily take a whole month longer."

"That's hardly a good reason for not taking the safer route!"

"I had planned to arrive in America before the end of the summer, so that we'll be settled when winter comes."

"You had planned to go there alone. Now you're married. So your precious plans may have to change. Anyway, a month more will hardly make much difference."

Rose watched them argue, an amused smile playing around her mouth. "So, the two love birds have their first little spat. I bet you'll have many more. You can take my word for it."

"Oh, it's not our first one," remarked Helen with a hint of sarcasm.

"Helen," exclaimed Andrew, a mixture of indignation and hurt in his voice, and then he begged in a subdued tone: "Let's not fight. Let's look at the pros and cons and then make a decision together, ... sensibly, logically."

"You and your logic!"

"There's nothing wrong with good reason and logic. Any sensible person will accept logical reasoning."

"I see, and next thing you'll tell me is that I'm not logical and sensible. If you had used your reason and common sense, you wouldn't have bought that black stallion, and we wouldn't be in this stew in the first place."

Blazing, she stormed out of the kitchen. For several seconds Andrew stood there, dumbfounded. The remark about the horse felt like a blow below the belt. He blushed. She was right, but he resented that she brought it up in front of Rose. He didn't comprehend how that little disagreement had suddenly escalated into a major fight. But I'm right, he told himself silently. It was better and much safer to sail out of Liverpool on a big boat. He had traveled on small boats. He knew how sick everybody got. In a bad sea, even the sailors weren't spared.

"Go, young man. Talk to her. Make up," said Rose, pus.h.i.+ng him gently to the corridor that led to their little room.

He needed little encouragement. His righteous mood had already given way to fear of having lost Helen's love, and remorse for insisting on being right. Hadn't she said 'men always need to be right'?

She sat on the bed and turned away when he entered and wanted to join her.

"I'm sorry, Helen. Please, don't be angry... I'm so grateful for all the things you did for me and should have shown more consideration. It must have been terribly distressful on you, and then Robert-"