Booksroc, thank you as always!!
Reviews would be lovely people, as usual, if you enjoy this chapter.
Johanna next chapter, promise.
Chapter Twenty-Eight.
Sanders could hear his own shallow and nervous breathing as he re-entered the Thorny Crown, and he swallowed with great difficulty as Ormond clapped him on the back merrily and asked him to show him "the broad" who he was talking about.
Sanders tried to smile, "She'll be out in a minute," he said with false confidence, "The moment she realises I've returned, she'll have all sorts of notions that I've returned purely to see her and she'll be happy. Why don't yeh take a seat right there and I'll go buy us somethin' to quench our parched throats, yes?"
"Nonsense!" Ormond said, "Comrades don't sit patiently while another goes to buy a drink. I'll come with you to the bar. I would love to see the reaction of this girl when she sees you."
Without further word, Sanders had little choice but to guide the detective up to the bar with him. There were no available stools of course, this being a busy part of the day, but Sanders watched as Ormond tapped a burly looking man on the shoulder, accompanied by a simple order, "Move," It was not a harsh order, rather, it was indifferent, as if he expected to be obeyed on the spot. Sanders watched curiously as the burly man heaved himself up, looking down at the rake-thin man with a sense of sardonic amusement at being ordered by an insect in comparison to him – a stick insect who could easily be snapped into pieces.
"Move?" the man chuckled, with a hint of a Belgium accent, "Why? Who's asking?"
With a flourish of his hand, the detective pulled out from his cloak a copper badge and held it up, answering politely, "Scotland Yard, Sir, requests that you do. Will there be any trouble? If you would like to leave a complaint, I'll be more than obliged to take down your name."
The man's eyes widened and he bowed awkwardly, muttering apology after apology, then in less than a fleeting moment he had disappeared from the tavern, taking his fellow friend who had been sitting with him. Ormond smiled to himself and his success and sat down, then patted the stool beside him, "Come, Mr. Sanders, it seems that we have found luck with finding some seats."
Sanders sat beside him and looked about, looking for somebody to serve them when to his satisfaction Louise waltzed up with a dustpan and brush, after cleaning up the broken glass from the jugs. Ah, just the tart he needed for some distraction.
"Louise, love!" he called cheerfully.
Louise turned after her name was called but her smile faltered in fright when she saw the blunt lawyer, and she timidly approached them.
Ormond laughed at the sight of the pretty girl, "Is this the one who holds a candle to you, you dog? Funny that, she seems as anxious as a mouse! Is that what they call infatuation these days?"
"No, no, of course not!" Sanders replied, "No, not Louise – now, what would yeh fancy to drink, Detective Ormond?"
He saw the girl's fear fade just a tiny bit as he purposefully made known his acquaintance's occupation, indeed, she even responded a little saucily, "You may have anything that you fancy, Sir!"
"Is that so?" Ormond leaned forward, examining the pretty girl with interest, "Well, I know it sounds odd, but I don't really make it a habit of mine to drink, I think it's poison really. Do you have anything to eat in this establishment? Perhaps something sweet?"
"Oh!" Louise smiled, "Well, of course. I cook all the food here, you see, I'm awfully good at it, and…"
With this, Sanders lost interest and turned his ear from the girl's lies, looking frantically for any sign of Laura. Where the devil was she? She had been here just moments previous, when he had left!
Relieved, he saw her coming through the crowd of patrons scattered throughout the tavern and he bit back a curse of impatience when she stopped to laugh at a joke one of her customers made. He caught her eye, and with his hand gestured to come over to him. She looked over surprised that he had returned so suddenly, but she did as she was told – more from inquisitiveness than any need to obey him.
While Louise continued to name every single delectable item off the tavern menu and the detective listened with fascination more for her pretty face than what she was saying - and being distracted from everything else - Sanders grabbed Laura's hand and muttered under his breath with a hiss, "Yeh want to be my lover!"
The look of utter shock was not concealed from her features, but in this emotion her words were barely more than a hoarse whisper as she blinked, "I beg your pardon?"
"Please!" he begged in the same quiet but fraught tone, his one revealed eye trying to impart on her the urgency of the situation, "Please, I can't explain it right at this moment, but this man – it's just – yeh need to trust me. I'll explain everything later – but just – this'll help your friend Anthony, and Jo, just – just trust me!"
As completely absurd as this whole situation sounded, Laura stared at him for a moment and understood the dire need of it all, but she said bluntly, "Ten sovereign for it."
Sanders stared at her, his mouth agape as he hissed, "Yeh're bartering for a price when there are lives at –"
"Twelve sovereign," was her interruption.
He swore, gritting his teeth, "Seven!"
She seemed affronted at this paltry offer and said, her hand on her hip, "Ten!"
Sanders bit his lip, but conscious that the detective could take wind of this negotiation, finally grunted, "Fine," Laura smiled in triumph and he added, "But I want you to bake me a bleedin' chocolate cake as well, yeh hear?"
With discretion he pulled out his wallet and clasped the note in her hand which then quickly vanished never to be seen again in the depths of her bodice.
Sanders, now that his mind was relaxed about having to find a harlot, tuned back into the conversation between barmaid and detective, which had taken a disturbing turn from food to, "Oh, this silly old thing," Louise giggled, her hands tracing the material of her frock, "This is from a boutique, right on Regent Street. Cost me an arm and a leg, but one has to look their best, don't you agree?"
"Mr. Sanders!"
The excited trill of Laura's tone distracted Ormond from his own pretty girl, and he turned curiously as Laura laughed and wound her arms around Sanders neck, "Oh, I knew you'd be back Sir, you can't resist me can you?"
Sanders said nothing, but turned and smirked at Ormond, mouthing to him, "I told yeh!"
Ormond nodded with a shrug, while Louise expected to be reprimanded, looking stunned as this usually strict woman fell all over herself to be near the lawyer.
"Where were we?" Sanders said, his arrogance creeping back into his tone, "Ah, yes! Drinks! I'll have a pint, Louise, and Ormond here? Yeh wished to have something to eat, yes?"
While Louise listened, took down orders and ran to the kitchen to prepare what had been asked, Sanders feeling that he perhaps needed to act out his part better, leaned back into Laura fondly – although, rather awkwardly. This was watched by Ormond in amusement, who murmured, "Oh yes, a natural Casanova, you are Mr. Sanders."
Laura giggled wantonly; then whispered in his ear huskily so that only he could hear, "Oh, you're going to have to do better than that, my lover!" then coming from behind him, she plopped herself right on his lap, raising her feet on the bar, resting her head on his collarbone.
Sanders couldn't repress a soft gasp as she sat so intimately on him – involuntarily his skin tingled – when was the last time he had ever been so close to a woman? He had taken them to bed of course in his past, but it was an odd thing that he realised none had ever sat on his lap. He could see the touch of auburn in her hair, his nostrils were filled with the faint trace of cinnamon on her skin as well as buttermilk spice. Good God! She was a witch to make him so fidgety!
In a moment Louise returned and served them what they had ordered. But as Laura had not reprimanded her for dilly-dallying she continued to flirt with her new favourite customer while Sanders had to contend with Laura whispering sweet nothings in his ear, in such a tingling way that no woman should know how.
"Oh yes!" Louise said eagerly, "We have a dart board at the back of the tavern and we have competitions here every Thursday night."
"I would be much obliged if you could show me this dart board," Ormond smiled and stood, holding out his hand, and giggling, Louise took it and flounced off, leading the way.
"That poor man," Laura said softly with a snigger, her face merely inches away from Sanders, "He'll never rid himself off her now," she clapped her hands on her lap, "Now, here are more important matters at hand! Why were you so desperate for me to play the part of your lover, hmm?" she added mischievously, "You're handsome enough not to have to pay me you know. A little rugged around the edges and your hair needs a decent cut of course, but handsome enough in a Heathcliff sort of way."
Sanders grunted at this back-handed compliment (and it did not help that the hussy was thoroughly amused and laughed in glee at his response), but he quickly made her realise the facts about who he was, his nosy and clever disposition and the danger Johanna would be in if Ormond caught even a bit of suspicion that he was aware of her whereabouts. She nodded solemnly after he told her and said quietly, "I understand."
There was a silence between them, before Sanders asked, "Oh – where is your bairn?"
"Jacob?"
"No!" he could not help reply with a hint of playful sarcasm, "I meant one of your other many secret bastards you have lying around!"
She looked at him sharply, "Insinuate that title with my boy again Mr. Sanders and I'll take the money you just gave me and –"
"Easy lass, easy," a prick of guilt did indeed flare up inside him at the way she quickly defended her little imp with his careless words, and his hands caressed her waist, "I'm sorry, I am. I'm the bastard, but yeh mustn't mind me."
She chewed her lip, mulling over his apology for a moment and apparently was satisfied when she shrugged a little, "It's alright, I suppose. Anyway, Jacob is in my room now, playing with his toy soldiers. A good boy he is, so very quiet."
"Mm," Sanders replied thoughtfully, and noticed she was looking over his shoulder subtly.
"What is it?"
"He's looking at us…Sly one – he's not so infatuated with Louise as he made out. I think he wanted to see how we would act once he's gone…Do you want to give him a show?" Laura asked roguishly.
"Show?" Sanders asked confused, but he was answered with her finger being placed under his chin, and her soft lips lingering over his.
He moaned a little at this surprise kiss, the last kiss he had had – was it over a year ago? It had been a rushed affair, while he had been impatient to discover the legs of the young woman under the maddeningly restricting layers of lace and petticoat of her expensive gown. He couldn't remember now really what she had looked like, besides the fact she had had nutbrown hair, or what scent befriended her skin, all he remembered was his frantic desire while he pushed her against a wall, and her coarse little laugh as she had giggled that she had never been to bed with a pirate before. It was this little jest about his eye-patch that had made him turn cold, that had made him pull away and spurn any more of her touch. She had been a lady, the daughter of an esteemed gentleman, yet this cheap barmaid seated in his lap right now, who had already given birth to an illegitimate child, her affection was much more natural – her soft pink tongue nestled in his mouth, her warm arms around him, while the aromas of a wholesome kitchen and of sweet homemade desserts weaved upon her body.
Oh…Lord Almighty.
"He's not looking now," she was whispering to him a few moments after the kiss.
"Hmm?" he asked, as his hand circled her back.
"That detective fellow – his attention is upon Louise again, I worry about that girl, throwing herself at any man but never mind, she's not my kin to worry about. Shouldn't you go find Miss Barker now?"
"Miss – Miss Bark – Jo!"
Good God, what devilish spell had she cast upon him to make him forget his dear Jo! He pushed Laura off of his lap in a most unceremonious way – she nearly lost her balance as she landed on the ground, and he turned to bolt, but first growled at her, as if his moment of vagueness had been all her fault, "I still want my bleedin' chocolate cake, is that understood girl?"
Then he fled from the Thorny Crown to return to the urgent business of finding Johanna Barker, and he ran as if the hounds of Hell chased after him, away from the prying detective and the barmaid who smelled of cinnamon.
