The Rogue’s Stolen Bride

Chapter Four: In Need of Your Services

Kaida

“How will I know which one is Blackwood?” I asked as Maggie used a bit of twine to tie Riley’s old trousers around my waist.

“You’ll know him when you see him,” she said, tying the knot and tugging the tunic down to cover her work.

My poor breasts had been flattened against my chest with linen wrappings, and my hair had been braided and wrapped around my scalp before being stuffed under a jaunty cap. Maggie had used a bit of coal to darken and thicken my eyebrows, and to dirty my jawline, so that, at least in poor lighting, it looked like I had a shadow of a beard. To complete my disguise, I had stolen the clerk’s spectacles. I put them on my nose and checked my reflection in the oval looking glass.

“What do you think?”

Maggie shook her head. “I don’t know, Kai. I still say you are too small and pretty to pass as a man.”

“Men come in all shapes and sizes,” I reasoned. “Look at Riley, he’s not much taller than me!”

“Aye, but he outweighs you by half.” Maggie grabbed my shoulders and squeezed me hard against her bosom. “Don’t forget to disguise your voice.”

I clung to her for a moment. “Aren’t you going to tell me it’s too dangerous?” I whispered. “Will you not try to stop me?”

Her hand stroked down my back. “It is too dangerous,” she whispered back. “But I know it’s pointless to try to stop you. You never listen. Besides,” she drew a breath and straightened, releasing me from her fierce hug. “Meeting your fate here can’t be worse than meeting your fate with that undead b.astard.”

I adjusted the cap so that it shadowed my eyes. “So reassuring,” I muttered. But I drew a deep breath and stepped out of the dark alley and into the street in front of the Blue Pony tavern. Yellow light and lively music spilled from its open window, along with the smell of ale and roasted meat, beckoning travelers to come and seek refuge inside the rough building.

“Wait!” Maggie hissed, grabbing my arm and yanking me back. She fished a small glass vial from her apron pocket. “My Nana’s secret recipe!” She pulled the cork with her teeth and doused her hands with the strong smelling liquid. Then she began rubbing her hands all over me, my face, my neck, my clothes. She even lifted my arms one at a time and rubbed some of the potion under my armpits. The sweet herbal scents of mint, sage, rosemary, and some secret ingredients burned into my nostrils, effectively canceling not only my scent, but the lingering odor of my brother as well.

I kissed Maggie on the forehead. “You are a genius, Magdalene! Now wish me good luck. And if anything happens to me, don’t fret. Make a good life for yourself.”

“Don’t speak like that, you fool!” She cried, and gave me a shove toward the door. “Go find that rogue. This is going to work!” She lowered her voice and whispered. “This has to work!” She twisted her hands up in her apron and backed into the shadows again. “I’ll be waiting here.”

I started again toward the tavern. This time I made it to the door and stepped over the threshold. There were a fair amount of customers, all of them men, sitting around rough wooden tables or pulled up to the long bar. A trio of musicians were set up in the corner, and a few drunks were dancing to the lively tune. The only women were the barmaids and a couple of scantily clad prostitutes who had wrapped themselves around potential clients.

No one paid me any mind, and I was once again grateful that I was always invisible. I slipped between the tables, scanning the room for the rogue.

Maggie had said I would know him when I saw him, and she was right. The moment my eyes fell on the daunting figure of a man sitting in a dimly lit, shadowy corner, I was sure I had found my target. I straightened my shoulders and moved purposefully toward the table.

When I was a few feet away I stopped, feeling a strange heaviness in my chest, like someone had tied a belt around my ribs and was pulling it tighter and tighter.

“Well, boy? Are you going to stand there staring all night, or are you going to state your business?”

He didn’t sound like I expected a rogue villain to sound. Instead he had a voice like warm honey, deep and gentle-sounding. It was completely at odds with his appearance. He wore ragged, all-black clothing: a long jacket over a torn shirt. His hair was long and pulled back from his forehead with a bit of rawhide. It was hard to make out his features in the dim light, but I had the impression of a strong face, a broad forehead, slashing brows, and a chiseled jaw.

I staggered forward and grasped the chair that was still pushed up to the table across from him. “Are you—” I remembered later that I had to deepen my voice. “Are you Mr. Blackwood?”

The man stared back at me. “Nobody calls me Mister. I’m Jace. Who’s asking?”

“I’m George. George Sherman.” I poked out my hand, hoping he wouldn’t pay too much attention to how small it was. He didn’t grasp my hand, and after a moment, I dropped it back to my side. “May I sit?”

He picked up his tankard of ale and inclined his head in what I took to be assent. I pulled out the chair and quickly sat down before I lost my nerve. “Let me get straight to it, Mr.—ah, Jace. I am in need of your services.”

From that angle I could see his dark eyes glittering in the lamp-light. Although his face remained stern, it almost felt like his eyes were laughing at me.

“And which services would those be?” He asked.

I glanced around nervously to make sure no one was close enough to listen. But it almost seemed like the other patrons of the tavern were avoiding his corner. Still, I lowered my voice. “I need you to k.idnap someone!”