Druid's Daughter (3 page)

“We gambled and lost. The Commissioner received a second
note requesting another five thousand pounds. One of Jamie’s curls was
enclosed. The note instructed us to leave the money at the same specified tree
in Hyde Park. The time frame was more appealing. After the scoundrel picked up
the package and verified the contents, Jamie’s release would follow in only ten
minutes.”

Morgan leaned over the desk, resting on her hands and said
nothing. She knew the Commissioner and his Chief Inspector must have considered
every possibility and yet made a deliberate choice to take the chance.

“Of course you posted men to observe.”

Dellafield gave a short bark of a laugh.

“We posted ourselves. We’re the best, aren’t we? We’d
planned to grab the messenger as soon as he made the pickup. Unfortunately our
nearest cover was too far away. The blackguard who picked up the money wore a
mask.”

Dellafield got up and began pacing the room, staring at the
floor as he strode.

“He didn’t stop to count the bills, just slipped into the
bushes so fast we got only the impression of a middle-sized man. He wore a big,
concealing cap pulled down over his features, although he appeared clean-shaven.”

Dellafield sat down at his desk, his intense eyes fixed
bleakly on her. “I’m a powerful runner and I tore after him but he’d gotten too
large a start. We’re worse off than before. Now the villain knows we won’t pay
up so easily a third time.”

Morgan twisted her hands in her lap, her heart aching at the
thought of the young boy in such evil hands.

“I called you in to see if you’ve had even a glimpse of
something possibly helpful to us.”

He didn’t try to hide a supplication that almost cracked
Morgan’s heart. She’d already surmised this man wasn’t quite the unfeeling and
cold-blooded aristocrat he appeared. His suffering eyes betrayed him to be a
caring and passionate person. A confirmation she cherished. She’d think later
about why this was important to her.

“You’re dreadfully worried about something you haven’t told
me that made you call me. What has you so fearful?” she asked.

Dellafield snorted. “You certainly seem to be able to read
me more easily than anyone except my mother. All right. I’ll tell you exactly
what I fear, although it’s not the usual subject for a young lady’s ears. Our
villain may think it too dangerous to exploit the Commissioner again. I fear
Jamie might be sold to an overseas slave market. He’s a most appealing child.”

“Dear Goddess of us all,” murmured Morgan. “I never imagined
such wickedness. I’d already determined to see you today. Although I don’t know
if what I have to tell you will help.”

She chewed on a knuckle before she continued.

“A startling picture appeared to me during the night. I’m
not at all sure this has anything to do with Jamie, but I knew I should tell
you.” She took a deep, reinvigorating breath. “As clearly as I can see you, I
saw a bar in a tavern. The bar itself was a dark polished wood and was
semi-rounded, a kind of half circle, which must be unusual. No people appeared
in the picture. A door on each side of the bar was painted a bright blue.” Her
voice slowed down as she continued. “That’s all, I’m afraid, but I could see
every detail clearly. I could even see the white painted door handles.”

Dellafield said nothing and she lowered her head in
disappointed rejection.

“I don’t think that’s much help.”

“We’ve nothing else to go on.” The Chief Inspector showed no
emotion in his graven face. “Nothing at all. We must try to make some sense of
this. Let me call in my sergeant.”

Sergeant Shriver snorted an uncomplimentary sort of grunt
when his Chief Inspector described the tavern just as Morgan described it to
him.

“Sure and I know the place well, Chief. It’s down on the
docks, a really disreputable hole. Called
The Blue Doors
of course.
Before I came to you my division kept trying to pin smuggling on the dive, but
they were always too slippery for us to catch. That it’s a den of villains, I’m
positive.”

The Chief Inspector looked up with more hope on his handsome
features than Morgan had seen since she entered the room. He stood up abruptly
and placed both hands on the desk.

“We’re going to surprise them, sergeant. Maybe we can pin
something even worse than smuggling on them. Gather twenty men. I want to be
well covered. Nothing must go wrong. I’ll go in first and the rest of you can
stand by to support me.”

Sergeant Shriver had at first looked pleased and now looked
doubtful.

“Begging your pardon, Sir, if you go in just the sight of
you will sound an alarm. Every crook in town knows Lucky Lance. They’ll scatter
and we’ll find nothing. There’s no way to disguise who you are. Let me rough
myself up a bit and go in first.”

Chief Inspector Lord Laniston Dellafield sighed. A deep,
disgusted sigh.

“Of course you’re right. But I want nobody to open those
blue doors after we enter. Nobody. This is of the utmost importance, sergeant.
No matter what you have to do after you enter, prevent anyone from going
through either of the blue doors.”

Morgan smiled inwardly. The man evidently didn’t have the
slightest idea how impressive he was, his muscled heft coupled with undeniably
aristocratic face and bearing—a most unusual and alluring combination. He would
be remembered by anyone who’d ever seen him. The sergeant was right. Someone
who could masquerade as a worker off the docks should enter first.

Morgan looked up, her expression impressed but skeptical.

“Are you admitting, my lord, that my psychic powers might
produce visions convincing to an incredulous officer of Scotland Yard? I find
this hard to believe.”

The Chief Inspector loomed over her as he rose to his feet,
his voice at its most distant as he answered.

“Of course I don’t believe in your so-called powers, Miss
McAfee. However, in this case we will at worst round up some villainous types.
At best I will be proven wrong about you and we’ll find something to help
Jamie. Or some other child about to be shanghaied to a slave vessel.”

He paused and let a little of his anxiety show in his voice.

“I’m desperate for a clue. I’ve no qualms in ordering such a
raid, even if it doesn’t directly help us in our search for Jamie.”

His face set and grim and his blue eyes clouded by inner
storms, he raised his glance just for a moment to Morgan’s. Morgan’s certainty
grew. He was the most compelling man she’d ever seen. What a shame they would
probably never agree on anything—he, not capable of even conceiving of the
world of magic and she, a daughter of the Druids desperately wanting to be more
than her poor powers allowed her to be.

She struggled to put her private thoughts behind her.
Jamie’s safety was much more important than any of her desires.

“May I go with you?” she asked.

Dellafield stared at her as if she’d sprouted scales and a
tail.

“Of course not. What an idiotic request. This tavern is in
the worst part of town and all its customers would doubtless give one look at
you and decide you’d do very well for their next rape victim. You are
extraordinarily beautiful, you know.” He turned and started toward the door.
“You definitely will not come near that den of murdering thieves.”

She didn’t even blink at the unexpected compliment.

“I intend to go. If necessary I will take a common hackney
and pay the cabbie well to wait with me outside the tavern. If by any chance at
all Jamie is there, he’ll appreciate a female to cuddle and love him.”

The Chief Inspector looked his horror. “You are beyond
insane. I absolutely forbid it.”

“I’ll take Ambrose,” she said. “No one will come near me, I
assure you.”

Lord Lance stared at her, his aristocratic face as frozen as
ice floes on the northern seas.

“Absolutely not. You have no idea of the kind of stews we
will be in. Stay here if you wish and I’ll get word back to you as soon as I
can. But do not come near the
Blue Doors Tavern
. Tonight, or any other
night. That’s an order.”

Dellafield turned to give more directions to his sergeant
and then stalked away. Morgan suspected he’d put her out of his mind.
Probably
just as well since he was being so damnably despotic. Men could be so difficult
.
She waited ten minutes after he’d disappeared and then mentally called on her
mother to send Ambrose.

Huge, dependable Ambrose. What could go wrong when Ambrose
furnished her protection?

Chapter Three

Morgan waited until Dellafield strode out of the room. Then
she called for a hackney and climbed in. The big dog padded alongside and
jumped on the seat beside her. The cabbie started to object at both the dog and
the address Morgan gave him. Turning around he found Ambrose with his face
quite close, staring directly in his eyes, his fangs just barely showing.

The cabbie swallowed, quietly clucked to his horses and put
the cab in motion toward his passenger’s stated destination, the
Blue Doors
Tavern
. Why any decent woman would want to go there he couldn’t comprehend,
but that big dog didn’t make for objections. Not of any kind. Her destination
was strictly up to her.

God help her though, if she didn’t know what that hellhole
of a tavern was like.

* * * * *

Morgan sat back, knowing with a deep conviction she would be
needed at the coming confrontation. She didn’t know how, but all would be
revealed. She put her arms around Ambrose, ruffling his thick fur and burying
her face in his luxurious pelt. Surely now they were on their way her Goddess
would keep Jamie safe for just a little longer.

“Thank the Goddess you’re here,” she whispered to the dog,
who slurped on her cheek in return.

The Blue Doors was as grubby as a tavern could be. Morgan
looked out at the sky where she could usually find peace. Her Druid soul was
always attuned to the natural and strength-giving Earth. If it was night and
the sky glittered with star-fire, she could find a soothing message in the
shining points of light. Today the somber clouds in the sky brought little
tranquility. She attempted to center her being into an inner peace, but
calmness did not come easily. At last some serenity returned and she leaned
back against the cushions to await the raid’s outcome.

She didn’t have long to wait. She watched the best of
Scotland Yard take their place in a ring around the tavern and a large part of
them march in. A great deal of noise came from the tavern, as most of the
customers seemed to be shouting their objections and their panic. The doors
were closed and held tight. Yet somehow one culprit escaped the net. He slunk
out a small door with no handle, a door blending almost without notice into the
wall of the building. He crept along the side of the tavern, quite evidently
meaning to sprint away as soon as he got clear.

Morgan whispered a few words to Ambrose, who immediately
leaped from the hackney cab and cornered the escapee. Ambrose rumbled deep in
his throat and the thug whimpered, a high-pitched, terrified sound.

The seedy man slunk back along the wall of the tavern,
obviously horrified by the bare fangs of Ambrose. The dog stood with his front
paws on the criminal’s shoulders, breathing into the hapless man’s face. The
huge dog’s fur stood out in a big ruff as he snarled at his cowering victim.

“Keep him right there, Ambrose,” Morgan said with a shudder.
“He has a perfectly hideous aura. I don’t think I’ve ever seen worse. Ugh. But
I want Lord Lance to talk to him.”

Hearing the name of the Chief Inspector caused the trembling
man to make a thrusting attempt to get past the dog. Ambrose merely put his
teeth in the thug’s shirt and dragged him back, rearing up against the man’s
body so he was again trapped.

“For Gawd’s sake, lady. Call your brute off before he kills
me.”

“I don’t think I can let you go,” Morgan said. “In fact I
think a gentleman is coming right now who is most desirous of speaking to you.”

The Chief Inspector appeared, beaming and obviously
delighted, his arms wrapped around a small child with golden curls. Not much
could be seen of his angelic face as Jamie peered shyly from the comfort of his
rescuer’s shoulder.

Then Dellafield spied Morgan. His initial reaction was sheer
incredulity, followed by a blazing anger that would have terrified almost
anyone else.

He started to stalk toward her, but Morgan ignored his fury
and walked to him, holding out her arms to Jamie.

“Will you let me hold you, Jamie? I know you’re a big boy
and can take care of yourself, but your Uncle Lance wants to know you’re safe.
Will you come to me, brave boy?”

Jamie smiled a smile of heart-stopping sweetness and held
out his arms to Morgan, who quickly took him and cuddled him in her arms.

“I’m not really so brave,” he said, hiding his face in her
shoulder. “I cried after the man took my food away before I could eat it all.
But only after he’d left.”

“There,” she said, smoothing his curls. “We’ll go to the
carriage and wait for your Uncle Lance. Nothing is going to hurt you again.
Lord Lance simply won’t allow it. He’s going to arrest the bad man Ambrose has
pinned against the wall and then you can feel safe again.”

She walked with him to the carriage, murmuring to him all
the while. Lord Lance looked at her in astonishment, his anger at her
evaporating as her words got through to him. He spun around and spied the
quivering man Ambrose held trapped and in waiting.

“My God,” he said simply. “Cuttering. I thought you’d gotten
away once again even though your men didn’t. So now you like to starve little
children. Another black mark among your many.”

His fists clenched and unclenched and Cuttering cringed back
against the wall. Lord Lance exerted his formidable self-control and whistled
for two of his men who came running and secured Cuttering with heavy cuffs.
Ambrose seemed satisfied and paced proudly to the carriage.