Fortune Trilogy 1 - Fortune's Mistress Read Free

the logic of what she had done in asking him to kiss her. She’d put on an act for the crowd to save their skins. But one kiss was enough. There was no need for more.
    Daring possessed her and she strained up on tiptoe, offering her lips for another delicious taste, but ready to nip his tongue with her teeth if he took intimacies she’d not offered. God, but this freebooter was no stranger to kissing! His mouth scorched hers with laughing desire that made her wish they were anywhere but in this condemned cart in full view of half of London. Shivers raced down her spine and turned her knees to pudding.
    Breathlessly, she pulled free, her mouth all puffy and aching with wanting him to do it all over again. Wide-eyed, she stared up at him.
    “Thanks, darlin’,” he said. “I’m not sure why you—”
    Shouts of encouragement from the passersby nearly drowned out his words.
    “Hist!” She cut him short as reason surfaced in her mind and she remembered where she was and why. “Hist and listen well,” she whispered urgently. “‘Tis not your touch I yearn for. I’ve no intention of hangin’ this day, and if ye heed me, mayhap I can free ye as well.”
    “Sing on,” he replied. “Your lips are like honey, but I like this song better with every note.”
    “Be ready,” she said. “My brothers have a boat waiting on the Thames. Once we’re loose, we’ll have to run for our lives.”
    James looked at the heavy chain that bound them together. “I’ll be right behind you, lass.”
    “Lacy is my name.”
    “Lacy, then. Are you certain they’ll not forsake you?”
    “Certain?” she scoffed. “What’s certain in this life? I’m sure as hell not certain of you, but it’s run together or hang together this day, and I’ve no wish for the taste of rope.”
    “Nor I. Lead on, woman. I’ll follow you, right willingly, though you see us to the gates of hell.”
    They rode on without speaking for some time. The houses along Holborn were no longer so tightly packed, and Lacy began to notice open patches of garden and meadow. A few larger homes of brick were scattered among the more modest dwellings, and they passed more farm wagons loaded with produce and livestock heading east into London Town.
    The crowds, however, had not thinned. Nearly a hundred spectators trailed after the three felon carts. Gangs of ragged children ran in and out of the congestion. Some snatched rotten vegetables or handfuls of mud from the side of the road and hurled them gleefully at the prisoners.
    Suddenly, Annie the Acorn let out a howl as a rotten egg struck her in the head. She was still wailing when a window opened in the second story of a farmhouse and a serving girl dumped a bucket of slops. “Wash ye clean, deary!” the maid cried.
    Foul water streamed over Annie’s hair and ran down her back, splashing on Lacy’s shift. “Come down here, slut,” Lacy yelled. “Come down and let us give ye a taste of our good will!”
    The laughing throng surged close to the cart, and a dog yipped in pain as a wheel rolled over the animal’s foot. A group of students were chanting a bawdy ditty, and Lacy caught sight of a cutpurse plying his trade. The mounted guards were hard-pressed to keep beside the condemned cart as more and more people spilled out of the alleys and choked the narrow road.
    “Tyburn Hill,” the deputy-keeper called out as they turned a corner. The place of execution stood on a slight rise in the middle of open fields. Several hundred people were already gathered there, all eager and waiting for the free show.
    Lacy strained her neck to see the gallows looming against the bright blue sky. She swallowed hard as the severity of her situation hit home. Her stomach churned with queasiness.
    Cuds bobs! If Alfred and Ben didn’t think smart, she’d soon be dangling from that ghoulish tree with crows picking at her eyes and stray dogs chewing her toes. Bloody rotten! She’d no wish to meet her maker that way
    A light