Mary Jo Putney Read Online Free PDF Page A

was a mere village with a single pier and half a dozen fishing boats settled for the night. A small livery stable stood on the opposite side of the street, but there were no people about.
    “Into the dinghy,” Flannery ordered.
    Reluctantly she took his hand as he helped her down. She tried unsuccessfully to keep her feet away from the dirty water sloshing in the bottom. As she sat, she asked, trying to sound calm, “Where are you taking me?”
    Flannery climbed down behind her while O’Dwyer took the oars. As the dinghy wallowed toward the yawl, O’Dwyer said nastily, “To Ireland, where no one will ever find you.”
    Ireland? She stared at him, aghast. The Irish were rebellious and angry with English rule, so it wasn’t a good place for an unprotected Englishwoman. She pressed her hand to her belly as fear churned her already uneasy stomach.
    As O’Dwyer gloated, she decided to stop fighting her distressed stomach. She leaned forward with dizzy satisfaction and vomited on the horrible man.
    His furious roar was the best moment she’d experienced all day.
     
     
    It took less than half an hour for Rob’s instincts to be confirmed. A small tavern on the road west had half a dozen old men sitting in front, puffing clay pipes and watching the world pass by. They’d noticed the tan carriage because it was traveling unusually fast for a vehicle that was neither a mail coach nor the crested traveling coach of an aristocrat.
    Rob summoned the landlord of the tavern and sent a message to Ralston Abbey. Then he set off again, blocking out his fatigue and giving thanks for a fresh, strong horse.
    Throughout a long day of riding, he gradually gained on the kidnappers. He tracked the carriage to the waterside village of Burnham, where he found the mud-spattered vehicle parked in front of a livery stable facing the small harbor. An ostler and a boy who looked like his son stood outside grooming a pair of carriage horses. Two already groomed beasts were munching on hay inside the building.
    Steeled for bad news, Rob dismounted. “Good day to you. Did the fellows who came in this carriage set sail from here?”
    “Aye, about two hours ago. They just caught the tide.”
    “Did they hire the carriage from you?”
    “Nay, we only hire out horse and carriages for local use, not long distance.” The ostler patted the horse he was brushing. “This carriage was hired in Bristol and the team works on the Bristol to London road. We’ll be sending carriage and team back to Bristol in the morning after the horses have a bit of a rest. They were used hard today.”
    Rob gazed out to sea, his expression bleak. By this time, the kidnappers were well away and could be headed anywhere. “How many men were in the coach?”
    The ostler thought. “Four. A driver, a guard, and two men inside.”
    The stable boy piped up, “And a girl! A right pretty blonde.”
    Glad for the confirmation, Rob asked, “Did she seem injured?”
    The ostler frowned. “You seem powerful curious.”
    “I’m a Bow Street Runner.” Rob summoned his authority as an officer of the law. “The young lady was kidnapped and I’ve been sent to rescue her.”
    “A Runner!” the boy breathed, his eyes widening. “The girl was kidnapped? One of the men was marching her along with a hand on her elbow and she was drooping.”
    A drooping blonde? Miss Sarah must lack her sister’s bubbling energy. All the more reason to rescue her. “Do you know where the ship was heading?”
    The ostler shook his head regretfully, but the boy piped up, “Ireland. Cork.”
    “You’re sure?” Rob tensed, his mind spinning. Inspired by the American and French Revolution, many Irishmen yearned to throw off English rule and become a republic—and Cork was a hotbed of republican sentiment. Was there a political dimension to the kidnapping? Given Ashton’s rank, that was quite possible.
    The boy nodded vigorously. “I heard the guard and coachman talking about how long it would