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dangerous. It was dangerous to have left
London by himself and dangerous to have said so much to Robert. With greater
hindsight he realized he should have brought Higgins with him. But he had let
it be known that he had no intention of remaining, Saber thought doggedly. He
had stated that he was leaving shortly, not to return. That knowledge should
keep Robert from planning any unpleasant surprises—surprises such as the last
one the man had arranged. He wondered viciously if Robert had told that bitch
Annabelle that he had returned.
    Bitterly
Saber's mouth thinned, and an unattractive light glinted in the amber-gold
eyes. Four long years it had cost him. Four years of unspeakable brutality and
cruelty in the British Royal Navy—all neatly arranged by kind Robert Saxon!
Four years in which he grew from an idealistic boy into a hard, calculating man
who had fought bloody sea battles and felt the lash of the cat-o'-nine-tails on
his back, leaving scars that would be with him until the day he died.
    Remembering
those years, his hand tightened about the tankard until the knuckles shone
white. Angry with himself for allowing the fury to rise so quickly, he drank
the cool ale in one long swallow and slammed the empty tankard down. Grimly he
forced himself to push the memories away and to remind himself that in a way
Robert had done him a favor. That Robert had not had him impressed into the
British Navy for his own good was a moot point! A sharp unhappy laugh broke
from him and he rose impatiently from his chair, wishing that he had not
bespoken the private parlor. He needed the companionship of fellowmen
tonight—not the solitude of this small room.
    Beddington's
Corner was a small community, and the Bell and Candle, typical of the inns to
be found in such places, catered primarily to farmers and village folk. The
private parlor was seldom used—few ladies and gentlemen of quality stopped in
Beddington's Corner. Seeking more congenial company than his own black
thoughts, he left the private parlor, missing Mrs. Eggleston by a few minutes,
and joined the noisy group in the dark oak-beamed common room. When he caught
the roving eye of that buxom barmaid, he abandoned his plan to drink himself
senseless. A few minutes later she was warming his lap, giggling at his bold
advances. Between squeals of laughter and false protestations, she let him know her name was Peggy, she was finished at midnight, and was perfectly
agreeable to sharing his lonely bed. Smiling, he found himself a small table in
a quiet corner and watched with interest the behavior of the boisterous
farmhands at the bar. Peggy good-naturedly slapped aside their amorous
advances, turning frequently to the tall, dark-haired gentleman who lounged
with careless elegance in the corner.
    Coo,
he was an handsome cove, she thought delightedly, and a real gentleman
too, with his neatly trimmed beard, white starched cravat, and clean
long-fingered hands. A shiver of expectation slid down her spine as it neared
midnight. Soon she would creep up the backstairs with that gentleman, and as
she caught the lazy, amused glance he sent her through his thick black lashes,
a sharp, pleasurable ache hit her stomach.
    Saber,
knowing he would be pleasantly occupied for the remainder of the night, drank
little of the dark, heady ale that flowed so copiously throughout the evening.
His head was clear and his step steady, as a few minutes after midnight he and
Peggy made their way up the stairs. They reached his room at the top of the stairs
a few moments later, and Saber pushed the door open and ushered the eager Peggy
inside. She stepped into the dark room and gave a small cry of pain as a
crushing weight smashed into her head and she crumpled to the floor. As Saber
realized what had happened, he leaped against the wall of the hallway, pressing
himself tightly against it. Alert to the sudden danger, his fingers sought the
heavy seaman's knife concealed under his clothing. With his body hard