Chapter 7

Lucky's POV

I was shown into a well-lit room with candlelight along its sides and a huge fireplace. There was a small table and two chairs in front of the fireplace, a desk at the other end, and a cabinet where bottles of wine and liquor were displayed. It was warm inside, but something about the man by my side gave me chills.

"Come," he said kindly, showing me to one of the chairs. "Tell me about yourself?"

I sat down, and as he did nothing but act polite and gentlemanly, I knew the interrogation had begun.

"I'm afraid there's not a lot to tell," I answered while he poured two cups of a pale brown liquor. From the corner of my eye, I saw him adding something else to the drink, and I could only guess what it was.

"My name is Marie," I continued as if I were completely unaware of what he was doing. "I'm from a small ministry in Norway, near Oslo. Our mission was traveling to northern Spain via Scotland and England to get more recruits."

"What happened?" he asked, settling into the chair in front of me before handing me a cup. I took it and placed it on my lap, feeling somewhat reassured by having something to hold onto—even if it was poison.

"I don't know what happened to the rest of my mission," I said, staring into the glass. There were still small bubbles from whatever he had put in it. Perhaps he hadn't bought into the lost-mission-girl story as wholeheartedly as I had hoped. I would have to sell the lie better this time.

"We were attacked, and I got lost in the confusion. I was alone when I ran into—the other gentleman. He spoke a language I didn't understand and…" I paused and looked down. "I think he misunderstood my line of—profession." I didn't need to act this part. I only had to think about the soldier in the woods—his eyes, his grin, and how obviously he thought it was his right for me to willingly give myself to him. Just thinking about it made me want to kill him.

Without realizing it, I had clenched my hands around the glass in my lap so hard I was afraid I might break it. I took a deep breath and looked up into his eyes, which seemed to be studying the very depths of my soul. "Well, the past is the past, and I'm sure I'm safe here with you, sir," I said with a sigh of relief.

"Indeed," he answered and forced a smile. Damn, I was good. He bought it! The only way he would truly smile was if he caught me lying.

"You say you're from Norway?" he continued, and round two began. "Yet you speak English so perfectly?"

"Thank you, sir," I answered, gracefully avoiding the question to occupy his mind with other things. "I also speak Spanish and Latin."

"You're well-educated!" he said, unable to hide his surprise.

"Our mission travels all around the world and firmly believes in fostering closer relationships by speaking the native tongue," I quickly explained, once again reminding him that I was indeed a damsel in distress. "I guess we all have to learn sooner or later that reality doesn't always live up to one's ideals." I paused and looked up. My heart sank when I saw his eyes—he was angry. He was losing a fight he had hoped to win. He wanted to reveal a traitor and get the satisfaction of beating them—me! I quickly thought of a way to play my emotions into yet another Oscar-winning act. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. You've been so kind to me, I don't know how to repay you."

"Think of me in your prayers," he answered after a short pause, never taking his eyes off me.

"I will," I said, not hiding the fact that his stare gave me the creeps.

As if he suddenly remembered his manners—after concluding that he'd only caught a nun and nothing of significant worth—he got up.

"You must be tired," he exclaimed. "I've arranged a room for you on the top floor." Just in case you're not who you say you are, he might as well have added, but I only smiled and thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

As I walked up the stairs, I realized this was going to be more difficult than I'd imagined. The house had three floors. Three! The tallest house I had ever seen had been two stories high and had belonged to a doctor. I went to the window and discreetly looked out. I could see the yard and the prison, but there were also soldiers, civilians, and everything in between. Best to wait until nightfall.

I went to the bed and sat down.

And finally, another thought hit me. What was I doing? Why was I lying to protect a bunch of men who were probably just like all the others—perverted and sexist? Wouldn't an English officer be able to help me just as well as a noble Scotsman could? But before I finished the thought, I remembered Markus’s words. The right of any free man, huh? Somehow, his voice found its way to my ears: Markus McCollum. He had said it with dignity and honor. A name that meant a lot to many people.

I sighed and threw myself back on the bed. Well, I'd started a lie, and Captain Fitzwilliam didn’t strike me as the forgiving type, so I might as well finish what I started. And perhaps, Mama, I thought to myself, perhaps his story and ideals will reach home, and we too will be free.

I fell asleep before my head touched the pillow. I wasn't worried that I wouldn’t wake up in time. If I put my mind to it, I could wake up at any given hour. This time, I just needed a few hours of sleep before starting my plan at midnight.

And sure enough, I woke up again at midnight. Outside, I could hear an owl hoot and some uneasy horses stomping the ground. Otherwise, the house seemed quiet. I got up and carefully tiptoed to the door. I could hear two very tired guards. One easy way to get rid of them. I tiptoed back to a desk where a vase of water stood. Quickly, I untied my dress before grabbing the vase and dropping it on the floor.

As expected, the door was flung open, and the two guards were ready to kill.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I cried out in my most innocent voice. "I fell asleep with my clothes on, and—oh, what a mess! I'm so clumsy."

"Don't worry about it, ma'am," one of them said and quickly rushed over to help. A pity, I thought. This one was actually nice. The other one was—like many men in the army—an asshole, only glaring at my shoulders and partly exposed breasts.

"I'm so sorry," I said and smiled. He didn't even have time to respond before I blocked the airflow to his brain, and he fell unconscious to the floor. Before the other one realized what had happened, he got the same treatment.

"Perhaps if you hadn't been so occupied by my boobs, it’d be a different story," I muttered and went to the door. I took a quick look outside. No one seemed to have awoken or been bothered by the noise. I sighed in relief. So far, so good.

Silently, I went down the stairs. Luckily, I didn’t meet any more guards until I entered the kitchen. They got a little white lie—that I was hungry—before they too were unconscious. I grabbed some bread—hey, I was hungry—and, while sending my mother all the grateful thoughts I could for her strict teaching, I filled a basket with wine, bread, cheese, and ham. I was going to need that later. I also found a dark cloak, which I stole before heading to the prison.