Wings Of The Morning Part 29

"Done!" Judge Pinkerton announced with satisfaction.

"This court will recess for 15 minutes so foils can be gathered"

Brandon came for Smokey then, leading her though the noisy crowd and back to the anteroom. Once inside he said only one thing.

"Resign yourself to the truth, Smokey. I wish it were otherwise, but the duel we fought at Bracken wilt feel like child-play after today. Dallas is not yet here, and I'm afraid that nothing else will save you."

245.

"tell me about my men," Smokey asked Brandon, who blinked at her in surprise.

He had just warned her how difficult their duel was going to be, and she asked about her men. Brandon stalled by giving her some more water, frustrated that he hadn't thought to bring her some food. She was still very shaky.

"You did say they were released, didn't you?"

Brandon was brought abruptly back to the present. "Yes.

I'd been working for a couple of days on their case, and it was finally decided that you were the one they were after.

"I couldn't get comfortable until they were out. It wouldn't do much good to have you released without your crew."

"And you believe I'll be released?"

"Yes."

Smokey sighed. "Where was his scar, Brandon?"

Brandon opened his mouth, but the guarding constable knocked and entered. Just minutes later Smokey found herself back in the courtroom. Her eyes met the seething gaze of Haamich Wynn, and Smokey began to tremble as she had done when she'd been locked in the cell.

She was still shaking when the guard led her to the open area of the courtroom and held the foil for her hand Her heart sank when she grasped the weapon. It felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds.

245.

Smokey suddenly realized the room was deathly still. She glanced up to find every eye in the court upon her, and she hadn't even lifted her sword Brandon was in place opposite her, and she met his eyes, ready to tell him she couldn't do it.

"Is that doubt I see in your eyes, Miss Simmons?"

From where the strength came, Smokey knew not, but her chin lifted and so did her foil. Brandon cried "engarde," and their foils met.

Occupants of the room barely breathed as they watched Lord Hawkesbury's immediate attack. He came at Smokey without mercy. She countered every move, years of training overcoming her weakness. Judge Pinkerton came to his feet, absentmindedly dragging the wig from his head as the opponents danced around each other, both trying to gain the advantage.

Using the move that had wiped the smile from Brandon's face the first time they dueled, Smokey cut his coat. It was to be her undoing. She couldn't recover, and in a merciless downward stroke, Brandon flipped the foil right out of Smokey's grasp. The move left Smokey's arm tingling from shoulder to fingertips.

Smokey was so spent at that point that she couldn't move.

Only seconds pa.s.sed before the room erupted in pandemonium.

Everyone seemed to be talking at once, and over the pounding of the gavel, Haamich Wynn could be heard shouting.

"This proves nothing! You could see how easy he was with her!"

Brandon turned to the man in fury, but the door burst open and a commotion ensued from the rear. The occupants of the room finally heeded the judge's call for silence as Dallas Knight marched in. Wrists tied behind his back and preceding Dallas at the point of his sword was Haamich Wynn, scar and all.

Smokey stared at the man's face in shock. His eye was blackened and his lip was b.l.o.o.d.y, but the resemblance to the man already in the room was remarkable.

246.

Suddenly the first Haamich Wynn panicked. With no warning whatsoever, he vaulted over the railing and grabbed Smokey. With an arm around her throat in a choke hold, he dragged her back toward the judge.

"I'll break her neck," he shouted in desperation, his eyes wide with panic. Smokey clawed at the arm that was cutting off her air, but it did no good "Stay back or she's dead." He continued to back toward the judge's podium. He was about to shout again when he stopped dead in his tracks. The judge, his wig in place once again, was holding the point of one foil in Wynn's ear. The impostor had never noticed as Brandon set the foils up on the stand.

"Now release her," Pinkerton's voice was calm, "or the entire room will watch what we do with pirates."

With the point pressed against his ear, the first Haamich Wynn grudgingly released Smokey and stood frozen in place; in fact everything seemed to freeze outside of Smokey, who crawled to safety and stayed were she was as Brandon began to speak.

"The man you see before you is not Haamich Wynn. This man is Lawrence Lynne. The man in the rear, however, is Lord Darrell Lynne, alias Haamich Wynn." The crowd began to buzz, but Brandon continued.

"Darrell and Lawrence are cousins who have been robbing us blind for nearly a year. When Darrell is in London, Lawrence goes into seclusion. Only when Darrell is headed out to sea does he contact his nearly identical cousin to cover for him on the streets of London. The split is 50-50 from what I understand, and with the success they've enjoyed, there have been no plans to quit."

"Take them away," Judge Pinkerton said softly. "The case against Victoria Simmons is dismissed." The room exploded with noise and confusion.

The guards started toward Lawrence, but with a swift move he leaped away from the judge's box and tried to run.

The guards fell on him.

247.

It seemed to Smokey that a fight was breaking out in every corner of the room, forcing her to hold her position on the floor. Just seconds pa.s.sed before Brandon appeared before her. As he reached to pull her to her feet, she saw the Judge shouting to be heard above the fray.

"The press will be pitiless. Bring her out through my chamber."

Brandon followed without question and began to move Smokey forward Her head whipped back just before they left the courtroom, hoping for a final glimpse of Dallas. Smokey spotted him amid the commotion, struggling with a man on either side. Then just moments later, before Smokey could find her bearings, she was outside, lifted into a carriage, and headed onto the streets of London.

"Where to, Smokey?" Brandon asked her from his place across the coach.

'The docks," she said wearily, praying as she did that Dallas would be all right.

"Are you sure? I know Dallas wants to see you. Sunny is at our town house here in London."

Smokey nodded "I appreciate the offer, Brandon. I would like to see Sunny and especially Dallas, but I need to get to the Aramis."

"As you wish," Brandon told her, seeing that she was fading fast. He gave orders to his driver and settled back against the squabs.

"Brandon," Smokey's voice came weakly from her seat.

Her senses were beginning to dull, but this had to be said "In Klink Prison I had a cellmate. Her name is Aggie. I told her about Christ," Smokey's head had fallen back against the seat, but she forced the words from her mouth.

"Please check on her. I didn't even get to say goodbye.

Please go to her, pray with her. Please--"

"I'll take care of it," Brandon told her, and Smokey let her eyes slide shut with a sigh. She wasn't aware of the way the driver used back streets to avoid being followed or of Brandon 250.

himself, who was determined to get her to her ship safely, even if he had to lay down his own life.

They stopped 30 minutes later. Smokey had been sound asleep for most of that time and was not aware that her ship was finally in sight. Not until someone called her name did she come out of the dream she had been having about sitting at Willa's kitchen table.

"Smokey," the voice grew louder. When someone shook her by the shoulder, she opened her eyes.

"Da.r.s.ey?"

"It's me, la.s.s."

"Is Willa here?"

"No, but if you come aboard theAramis, we can sail home and see her."

"I can go home?" Smokey asked with childish wonder, just before she began to sob. Her hands covered her face, and amid her harsh weeping she was hardly aware of the way Brandon lifted her from the carriage and tenderly handed her to her first mate.

A crowd that included newsmongers who had been keeping an eye on theAramis was swiftly converging upon them.

Smokey's crew was there to surround her and to take care of anyone overly zealous for a story. In an effort to see them safely up the gangplank, Brandon's own coachmen climbed down and a.s.sisted in the fray.

With no time wasted, Da.r.s.ey carried Smokey to her cabin.

He knew that Scully was already preparing a bath, but when he got to the cabin, he saw it would have to wait. Smokey was asleep once again. Da.r.s.ey stayed below only long enough to cover her with a blanket before going topside to cast off.

Lord Hawkesbury's coach was gone, and Da.r.s.ey was glad that he'd already said his thanks. They cast off, leaving the docks teeming with frustrated journalists and spectators. By nightfall, they were out at sea.

249.

Da.r.s.ey held a cup of strong broth to Smokey's mouth, and she drank greedily. Her hands came up to hold the mug, but they were shaking so badly that Da.r.s.ey did not relinquish his hold. After just a few swallows, Smokey lay back as though the effort was too much for her.

She had managed to bathe and even wash her hair. Da.r.s.ey had changed the sheets for her, since she had lain on them before her bath and couldn't stand the thought of touching them after she was clean. After washing she had put on a nightgown and crawled into bed, ready to sleep for weeks, but Da.r.s.ey had other ideas.

"You've got to eat something."

"I'm too tired," she told him, but he ignored her.

"I'll help you," he said and did, holding the broth and letting her take all she could. Then she was asleep again, and this time Da.r.s.ey allowed it. She hadn't taken much in, but Da.r.s.ey knew they were going to have to take things slowly.

Truly, "slow" would be the operative word where Smokey was concerned. As long as he was in charge, they were in no hurry. If it took weeks to gain their home port, then weeks it would be. And if it took weeks for Smokey to tell him all she'd been through, he would wait.

He found himself making these promises in his heart as he gazed at her sleeping form. Like the last time they had been separated, the tears poured down his face, tears for all the pain she'd known, and tears of thanksgiving that G.o.d had brought her back to him.

251.

Q//^~Qfw "iDiDN'TTHANKBRANDON/'SmokeytoIdDa.r.s.eywhenthey had been at sea for five days.

"He'll understand"

"Or Dallas," she went on.

"He'll understand"

"He didn't last time I left in such a hurry."

Da.r.s.ey stared at his skipper. "This was nothing like last time, mainly because this time Dallas knows that you love him."

Smokey nodded from her place on the deck, desperately wanting to believe Da.r.s.ey's words.

She had barely been able to climb the stairs, but she was sick to death of her cabin and insistent on going topside. She was wrapped in a blanket against the wind, but the sun felt wonderful on her face. The men had all come one at a time to sit and visit with her, and she could see that although they were a bit thinner, they were all right. Her heart overflowed each time she looked at them and saw that they were safe and well.

"Dars, can you tell Scully that I'm hungry?"

"Sure," Da.r.s.ey forced himself to answer calmly and rose slowly from his seat. What he wanted to do was shout and to run for the galley as fast as his legs could carry him. She had wanted so little to eat since they had set sail. And even though her color was good, the skin of her face was still stretched tightly across her cheekbones.

That, along with the change in her hair, made her look like a completely different person. Her eyes were still just as big and just as gray, but there was a new maturity there. Da.r.s.ey mourned the lack of innocence, but understood that G.o.d's way was always best.

The days flowed one into another as the Aramis made good speed west. Smokey slowly regained her strength, and a week outside of Maine was fully back in command of her ship.

She even raced another vessel and won adroitly.

Outside of her regular duties, Smokey spent a lot of time sitting on deck and thinking. Dallas was constantly in her thoughts, and she prayed for him every day. She also remembered Brandon, Sunny, Sterling, and Aggie. Whenever she thought of Aggie, she remembered how true it was that a person could walk around in a prison of his or her own making and never be behind bars.

It wasn't easy to dispel the image of that cell. At times it was so real to Smokey that she could smell the stench of it, even in the wind. But she never allowed her mind to rest there.

She would always push onward to G.o.d's grace and protection.

Then the black clouds of memory would be rolled away to reveal the glorious sunshine of G.o.d's love, and Smokey would ask G.o.d for her heart's desire--to be Dallas Knight's wife.

Almost hourly she prayed for him, his well-being, both physical and spiritual, his ship, and his crew. She prayed that he would soon realize his dream to stay in Maine and build ships, and that he would want her at his side when he launched his first Knight Craft.

It was during these prayers that Smokey would tell the Lord all the things she loved about Dallas--his convictions and tenderness, his beliefs and compa.s.sion. But even amid Smokey's desire to be with Dallas for always, she never failed to end her prayer by telling the Lord that as much as she wanted this, she wanted Him more. She always asked G.o.d to help her accept His will above her own, no matter what.

252.

It was because of this commitment concerning G.o.d's will that Smokey's gray eyes shone with joy and inner peace--a peace so deep that Willa did not believe she had been through all she said. When Da.r.s.ey was finally able to convince her, the older woman sobbed like a baby.

But true to form, when the weeping was over, she rose and took care of her loved ones once again. In the first week of Smokey's homecoming, Willa fed her constantly. She also sat Smokey down at the kitchen table and trimmed her hair into an adorable style. It had grown ever so slightly on the voyage home, and Willa was able to make the front hang over her forehead in wispy little bangs and the back and sides to curl under, giving a lovely frame to her face. The effect was darling, and Willa said they should have cut it years ago.

Smokey was not so convinced. All she could think about was what Dallas might have to say. She knew he had loved her long hair. When such thoughts crowded in, she told herself that it didn't matter, that as soon as Dallas returned he would come looking for her and they would pick up right where they had left off at Bracken. But the weeks began to drag, and this didn't happen.

"Why haven't you been to see Jenny?" Willa asked her pointedly one day.

Smokey hesitated. It was tempting to tell Willa that she wasn't up to it, but that would have been a lie.

"I think I'm afraid," Smokey finally admitted.