Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(179)

Ruark rose from the bed and moved to stand at the end, bracing a shoulder against the massive post. He rested the point of the sabre on the floor, now turning the edge of the blade away from Harripen, acknowledging the truce. It was a long moment before he answered.

“This is a thing which I will have to think on for a time. I am not in doubt as to my skill, but much of what you say is true. And though I have my own share and Pellier’s, I still have need for wealth. I will think on it and give you an answer soon.”

He strode forward and took Harripen’s arm, leading him slowly to the door.

“There is but one thing now which I would ask of you. This portal is solid.” He tapped the door with the hilt of his sword. “And a fist upon it makes a good sound. You know,” he stared thoughtfully through Harripen, “I almost stilled your bargain before you spoke it. I would suggest that hereafter you pause a bit and not startle me again.”

Almost eagerly Harripen nodded and was ushered out. The door closed behind him, and he heard the bolt slam firmly in place. The pirate wiped a drop of sweat from the end of his nose and released his breath. Ruark seemed almost too gentle, but his eyes savaged a man’s very soul when he was angry. Harripen walked away and felt lucky that he had not taken a nick or two.

Ruark pressed his ear against the door and listened to Harripen’s boots clump down the stairs, while Shanna hurriedly donned her clothing. Ruark had barely stepped away from the portal when a soft tapping came on the panel. Cautiously he opened it a crack and found Gaitlier crouched outside. The small man straightened and met Ruark’s gaze over the top of the glasses he wore.

“Might I come in for a moment, sir?” His voice was almost a whisper.

Nonplussed at the servant’s presence and manner, Ruark opened the portal wider and beckoned him in. Gaitlier fussed over the table for several moments and retrieved the fowl from the floor. In the nervous gesture Ruark had noted before, he rubbed his feet one against the other, appearing at a loss. Ruark considered him from the foot of the bed where he half sat upon the end rail, waiting for Gaitlier to speak, and finally he sought to bring the problem out.

“Well, man!” he urged. “Let’s have it.”

Shanna knelt behind Ruark and rested her chin on his shoulder, as puzzled as he and twice as curious. The small man shuffled his feet and swept his eyes across the ceiling as if he sought divine aid. Now he faced them and, drawing a deep breath, began as if stepping into a chilling sea.

“I know you are man and wife!”

His statement was blunt and brought a gasp from Shanna and a low growl from Ruark. Gaitlier plunged on.

“I know, too, sir, that there is something in your past to be afraid of and that you are, in fact, Trahern’s bondslave.” He gestured to a small grill high on the wall where it had not been noticed and explained. “A listening port and a servant’s room beyond.” At their bemused stares he continued. “A way for a serving man to know before he enters what is amiss that he should not interrupt. A necessary thing with Captain Pellier.”

Shanna blushed in painful embarrassment and hoped fervently that the storm had shielded their passion.

Gaitlier caught Ruark’s frown cast toward the door and eased his worry. “Those fools know nothing of the port and would never guess its existence. An idea from the Far East, I believe. At any rate, quite handy.” He drew a ragged breath. “I have a bargain for you, and I would hope a more honest one than Captain Harripen’s. I know the way through the swamp.” He paused to let the significance sink in, and the only hint that it had was a new attention paid him by Ruark. “I would be shot if any of them”—toward the door—“as much as suspected that I knew.”

For a long moment there was no sound but the shriek of the wind and the pelting of the rain on the tiles of the roof. Gaitlier removed his eyeglasses and polished the lenses with his shirt.

“There is a price, of course,” he ventured timidly. “When you escape, I will go with you, and the girl, Dora, as well.”

He replaced the spectacles on his nose and stared at the two of them with a hint of sternness playing about his lips.

“I will aid you in every way possible and go with you to point out the entrance to the channel.”

Ruark gave the small servant his closest regard. He had never guessed the courage the man contained and was a little amazed. His frown showed for a moment, and Gaitlier misread it.

“You cannot force the secret from me,” he warned with enough determination to make his point.

Ruark smiled and caressed the butt of the pistol with his palm, meeting Gaitlier’s eyes squarely before he asked, “And what makes you think we plan to escape?”