When William had returned to the carriage, he had not been in the best of moods; between Nan's words still lingering in his ears and the smile he had seen her give Hoss so openly, so freely, it was a wonder, he had not marched up to the man and beat him within an inch of his life and then dragged Nan back to his house and locked her in her room.
He could not shake the anger he felt toward Hoss. She had been with the man for barely an hour and smiled at him with such warmth. What had the man done to make her smile in such a manner? What did he say to her? William could not shake these thoughts from his head nor recall another time when warm smiles had nearly shattered him.
Then, when the carriage door had jerked open, admitting Nan's wet form, all thought of Hoss's actions drained from William's mind, though his absence did not go unnoticed. This time, a different form of anger filled William's being. He had told Hoss in no uncertain terms not to let her from his sight. If William could see her so plainly and not see Hoss; he had clearly failed in the task William had given him, an action that did not bode well for his man's future health and even less for his employ.
Moreover, she was soaked. Again! Her hair hung loose, some plastered about her face and neck, while the rest lay in long wavy tendrils about her shoulders; her cheeks and nose were rosy from the cold, her dress so dark a blue it resembled more the color of her eyes than the clear blue sky, but what drew his attention the most was the doe-like quality her eyes had taken on upon seeing him. Her expression was a mixture of surprise and terror, and he liked the look of that less than her currently drenched state.
"Sir William," she breathed in surprise, wiping at her dripping face. Then William grabbed her arm and pulled her into the carriage completely, practically tossing her into the seat across from his. She stared back at him, even more surprised from her new position sprawled across the seat of the carriage than before.
"Nan Harris, you wicked chit, when I get my..." Hoss shouted as he wrapped his hands around the opening of the carriage, the rest of his words dying the instant he saw his Master's furious gaze directed at him. "Sir William," Hoss breathed, though his tone and expression were far less shocked than Nan's. Withdrawing from the carriage, Hoss stepped back several feet as his Master rose and followed him, slamming the door behind him, taking hold of Hoss's arm, and walking them several paces further from the carriage before stopping.
Even as the rain poured down, William ignored it. He was too caught up in trying to control the rage whirling within him to give much heed to the rain that was now trying to drown him. Not even the cold reached him as he stood staring down the street, his gaze fixed on where he had glimpsed Nan smile so freely at Hoss. So long as he did not think about the cause of her smile, his anger dulled enough for him to manage words rather than fists.
"Tell me, Hoss. Were my instructions unclear?" William asked, his gaze unmoving. His voice was calm, crisp, and far too controlled for Hoss' liking.
"No." Hoss shook his head, his eyes never wavering from William.
"Were you set upon by bandits, thugs, or some other intent on doing her harm?" William asked, his tone unchanged.
"No, Sir."
"Did God shine down from the heavens and tell you to forget my orders?" He quipped, though there was no humor in William's tone when he spoke.
"No, Sir."
"Then why in God's name did she return without you!" William snarled, finally looking at his man.
"I've no explanation to give you, Sir," Hoss replied, his tone steadfast, his expression unchanged as he stood straight and tall, impassive to his William ire towards him.
It took virtually all of William's control not to throttle his most loyal and devoted servant and possibly the most faithful friend he had ever had. Still, it was proving extremely difficult. All that kept him from unleashing his fury was the thought that Nan would see them. That she would see the physical extent of his wrath. And then she would have reason enough to fear him, if not devise a way to get away from him. With that thought, William drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes for several seconds before opening them and glaring at Hoss.
"You'll find your own way back." William grated out finally before turning back to the carriage and shouting at the driver to go. Once he had gotten into the carriage, slamming the door behind him, he slung himself into his seat as the carriage lurched into motion. For several seconds, Nan stared at William, stunned, then out the window, as the image of Hoss began to grow smaller the further they went down the road.
"Why isn't he coming with us?" Nan asked, the words passing from her lips as fast as they entered her mind and in the same puzzled tone.
"Because he has been relieved of my company," William replied, glaring out the window.
"What! No! Stop the carriage!" Nan ordered. "He did nothing wrong!" She shouted at William. When he did nothing, said nothing, she lunged for the carriage door. Only to be caught up in William's arms as he pulled her back. Yanking her slender frame up and about before pulling her down to sit neatly between his legs.
"Let go!" Nan snapped, glaring daggers at William as she sat with him wrapped so intimately about her. One hand holding both of hers by her wrists as the other coiled itself about her waist, keeping her back pressed against his front, without a sliver of air between them.
"No."
"I ran from him! He had no idea what I was going to do! He did nothing wrong!" she declared. "Please, William! Please. He did nothing!"
"So you were trying to escape."
"Yes. I was trying to escape by running back to your carriage. That seems like a brilliant plan." She snapped, glaring at him from over her shoulder. "It started raining. He didn't know how best to get me back to the carriage without getting me soaked through or leaving me. So I chose him and ran. It was my idea. He had nothing to do with it. If you're going to punish someone for being foolish. Punish me. He did nothing."
"He made you smile," William replied, his tone dark and unforgiving as once more memories of charming smiles assailed him.
"We were talking." She breathed, her voice full of disbelief. "Am I to speak with no one? How spiteful can you be?" she shrieked, struggling against him until his arm tightened about her waist to the point of near pain, while his other brought her arms to her chest, pinning her in place against him.
"You have never smiled like that when we talk." He replied.
"You've given me nothing to smile about," she bit. And you give me less cause to do so now."
"I've given you and your child more than any other in this town. I've given you food, shelter, and clothing. The promise of protection. Whatever you would want." He growled, his arms tightening. "Yet, you would threaten to kill me, leave me. Tell me how those acts show your gratitude?"
"You've given me a cage and a collar and hung Jamie's welfare over my head like a noose. While at the same time expecting me to trust you when you clearly don't trust me enough to grant me even the slightest consideration that I might see through Hoss's charms. I'm a beggar, William. I'm not blind." She snapped with a harsh twist. "If you can. Please explain how any of that would give me cause to smile at you with genuine happiness. Tolerant and understanding my arse." She spat, giving one final jerk to try and free herself of him, before freezing when she felt his hand move from her waist to the back of her neck.
With great care, William swept the wet tendrils of her hair aside and covered the cold nap of her neck with his palm. Placing his lips against the back of his hand. He did not kiss her there, though he wanted to greatly; he merely rested his lips against the flesh that touched hers. Breathing her in. He needed her silence to clear his head.
Somehow, knowing that shocking her into stillness would give him that silence, he rested his hand on her shoulder and applied no more pressure there than that of his hand's weight; even the hand he'd used to bind hers together sat loose in her lap, merely holding her wrists, no longer bracing them together in a tight grip.
For the longest time, William sat quietly behind Nan, considering her words. She'd not been wrong. It goaded him how easily his temper let him believe the brash actions he took were right. Still, he could not bring himself to concede such.
Pulling his mouth from her shoulder, he asked. "Who told you this?" he was no longer angry, though for once, he had taken notice of how quickly and easily he'd allowed his temper to control him.
"Told me what?" she bit, her own ire having cooled into a petulant glower.
"That I was tolerant and understanding?" he replied in a tired breath, removing his hand from her neck, though he kept the other about her wrists, finding direct contact with her, kept him clear, if not in a cooler state of mind.
"Hoss. I was asking him about you. That is what he told me."
"Bloody fool." He breathed, leaning his head back against the seat as he covered his eyes with his free hand.
"He's very loyal to you. For some reason." Nan stated.
"Yes." He groaned.
"He said you saved his life."
"I saved him from being shipped to America as a slave. That is hardly saving his life." He grumbled, dropping his hand to find her looking at him. And while her expression was still irate, he was thankful she no longer glared or snapped at him.
"He thinks otherwise," she informed him, her scrutiny forcing him to look away from her a moment before looking back. He loved how her gaze never wavered from him but was still unsettled by the unblinking regard she now displayed.
"You weren't trying to escape?" he questioned, foolish though he knew it was. If she had been trying to escape, she wouldn't have run back to his carriage, a fact she had already informed him of.
"If I were trying to escape what point would there be in my returning to your carriage. I'm confident in my skills for some things. Overpowering your driver and maneuvering this," she gestured to the carriage, looking about its interior before looking back to William, "back to Stonebrook, for Jamie is not one of them." She clarified with a raised brow. "Will you please go back for him, William? I ran because he would not leave me to bring the carriage. He did nothing wrong." She shook her head, her dark blue eyes pleading for him to return. Cupping her cheek in the same manner she had touched him on their way to town, he marveled at how she neither flinched nor recoiled from him. "Please." She added, covering his hand with her own.
With a sigh, William withdrew his hand from her face and softly said. "No."
Hoss stood stunned, staring at nothing as his Master's words echoed through his head. Find his own way back? That was it! That was all his Master had to say to him! To do to him! Was that to be his punishment? Quickly, Hoss discarded the thought. Simply, because his Master had not dealt with him then and there did not mean he would not deal with him at a later time. Still, he'd expected... he was not sure what he had expected. To be hit certainly, grabbed and threatened definitely, but he had received nothing but instructions to find his own way home. Surely, there would be something worse in store for him when he returned, and while a sane man would have taken his chance and ran. Hoss was not fool enough to try.
Sir William may not have had the same high society connections he once did, but he did not lack from want of them either. Those connections he had to men of the sea replaced London with strength and surety that was as widespread as any sea storm and could easily cover the distance of England in half the time. No, Hoss was not fool enough to run from Sir William. Not when he knew there was not a Captain in all of England and Wales that did not know his Master's name and would readily give Hoss up to him if asked.
His Master may not have been a well-liked man by those in favor to dry land, but those in favor of sea, and ocean, and any bit water that could set a ship sailing across its surface. He was known to them. First by the hand with which he treated his crew, then by the deeds that had won him his title, and finally by the small fleet with which he had built his fortune, where any man in need of wood and water beneath his feet could gain the opportunity.
With a brisk shake of his head, Hoss pushed his Master's odd neglect to the back of his mind. If he was to find his way home, he could do it in the morning, when he'd had a hot meal and warm bed to sleep in the night before, and information on his Master's lady to help lighten the punishment he was sure to receive when he returned to Stonebrook.
Having resolved his course of action, Hoss turned to the best place to gain all he sought.
________________
Tom Banger had just tossed the last lout too drunk to stand from his pub when he closed the door for the night and turned at the sound, then the sight of a lit match being raised to a lone lantern, the small flame coming to light quickly and jumping about merrily. Illuminating the face of its maker and causing Tom to frown with knowing displeasure when he was able to make out Nathan Hoss sitting with ease in the back of his pub, his feet propped up on the table.
"I swear to God if I ever find out how the hell ye keep gettin' in here, after I've locked all the doors, and winders, I'll be sealing it up tighter than a nun's chastity." Tom snapped, as he glared at his former Captain's man. What little respect Tom still had for Sir William, he had even less for the man who did his bidding.
"Provided, of course, that the Nun is virtuous enough to remain chaste." Hoss smiled knowingly, then kicked out the chair opposite him, telling Tom more than asking him to join him.
"Aye, provided." Tom agreed bitterly, glaring at the man who had bloodied his floor nearly as many times as his Master. "What poor soul ye lookin' for this time?" Tom asked as he walked over to Hoss' table, pulling the chair back as he sat down.
"How well you know me." Hoss beamed at the barkeep, dropping his remaining foot to the floor as he sat up and crossed his arms atop the table.
"Too well if ye ask me," Tom grumbled. "Now, who? I don't like ye here when you're drinkin'; I like ye less when you're not." Tom stated matter-of-factly.
"Nan Harris," Hoss answered, paying close attention to the look of surprise on Tom's face. Normally, when Hoss came to Tom, he was looking for men who had slighted Sir William, either in person, in business, or at the gambling tables. And whenever he had told Tom who his prey was, Tom had shown not the slightest bit of concern for the individual. Even knowing, or at the very least considering, what their outcome would be. What Hoss saw now was not the look of a man who had expected to hear some drunkard's name. What he saw was abject and total surprise.
"What ye wantin' to know about Nan fer?" He questioned, seeming unable to wrap his mind around the oddity of Hoss's request.
"She provided Sir William with a kindness. He wishes to pay it back," Hoss replied, noting the suspicion in the barkeep's eyes as he considered Hoss's words.
"And what sort of kindness is the Black Knight wishing to repay a beggar girl with?" Tom asked, his tone harsh, almost accusing. "He get tired of that strawberry tart? Decide to go after something with a bit a' innocence?" Tom growled at Hoss, his hands slowly fisting against the table as he glared daggers at the man across from him.
Despite Tom's critical demeanor, Hoss found himself beyond pleased by the barkeep's reaction to his statement. Tom was no friend to whores of present or past affiliation. And while Hoss had doubted Nan was one, it was still reassuring to see this kind of ferocity showing at the mere thought that Sir William might be finding his pleasure in Nan. Though Hoss was already quite certain Sir William was, just not in the manner Tom seemed to think.
"Oh for God's sake man," Hoss replied, rolling his eyes at Tom's overprotective reaction. "Just because he looks like a monster doesn't mean he is. And if Sir William was truly set on deflowering the local virginity, do you honestly think he'd start at the bottom of bleeding the barrel?"
"Then, what's he want with Nan?" Tom replied, unwilling to consider Hoss's reasoning as he continued to glare.
"I told you he wants to repay a kindness," Hoss stated once more.
"Then, he'll have a devil of a time doin' it. I haven't seen her in near a week." Tom smiled as he leaned back in his chair. His form relaxing for the first time since he had turned to find Hoss in his Pub.
"I care little for her location. I want her history." Hoss glowered.
"History?" Tom frowned, clearly perplexed.
"Yes." Hoss nodded. "I know her name. I know her position, and I know she keeps a child. But beyond that, I am at a loss. And should my Master wish to reward this woman beyond a few coins, I'd like to see them not wasted on someone undeserving." Hoss explained.
"I've not known Sir William to waste his coin on any woman but the maids he employs and the whores he beds. Why the sudden interest in Nan? And don't be tellin' me it's because of a kindness." Tom shook his head at Hoss, clearly no longer willing to swallow the line Hoss had been so readily feeding him.
"Because she can see what Lady Horton would not." Hoss bit out, recalling all too well the state his Master had been in after her departure and seeing no need to elaborate since Tom knew almost as well as he how sharp a blow she had landed against Sir William. It was nearly a year after that when his Master's title as the Black Knight had come to the surface, and his drinking lessened enough for him to take notice of the rumors being whispered about his twisted features being matched only by his sadistic and unforgiving temper. And he had never bothered to stop them from thinking it was true nor given Hoss leave to either. "Now, will you tell me what you know?" Hoss demanded, slamming down a handful of coins in front of Tom.
"If you think a bit a coin is gonna make me tell ye about Nan Harris," Tom replied, looking at Hoss as though he were insulted by the gesture, then he smiled and quickly pocketed the coins. "You'd be right." He nodded.
"What do you know?"
"That she's a beggar. That she keeps a child. Has a fair knowledge of plants and the like for healin' brews and whatnot."
"I know all this," Hoss stated, and this time, it was his turn to glare at the man before him. "I want to know her history. Who her kin are. Where she comes from."
"Oh well, I can't tell ye that," Tom admitted with a shrug and an unconcerned tilt of his head.
"Why the bloody hell not!" Hoss snapped.
"Because she's not Nan Harris."