We closed the gates, and Corrie held them shut while Em and I looked for a log or large rock. Finding none, we looked at each other and then looked at the guard. I sighed. Em shrugged her shoulders. We lugged him over and propped him against the gates.
“We’d better be on our way now, luvs. We’ve lost enough time as it is.”
“Is—is there snakes and things in them woods?”
“Those woods,” I said.
“Not a single snake,” Em lied. “Come on, let’s scoot.”
I took Corrie’s hand, and Em led the way. We hurried into the woods, moving at a killing pace. Em and I had come this way so often we knew every root, every rock, every hanging vine, and we were able to skirt every obstacle by instinct. The woods were very dark, only a few rays of moonlight seeping through the tangled limbs overhead. The air was damp and clammy, heavy with fetid odors. Branches seemed to reach out to scratch our arms and tear at our skirts. The hanging vines were a constant threat. After a while, panting, we were forced to slow down. The woods seemed to close in around us, dense, damp, a dark green-black lightly sprinkled with pale silver that only intensified the heavy shadows. Insects hummed. Scurrying, scratching noises abounded.
“How much farther is it?” Corrie asked. Her voice was laden with apprehension.
“Just a short way,” I replied.
“What—what was that noise?”
“Probably a rabbit,” Em said. “Keep moving. Ouch! Thorns. Watch out for that branch.”
“I wonder what time it is,” I said.
“Much too late. I—I’m a little worried, luv. We must be away from the island before dawn—well away—if they’re to assume we’ve merely crossed over to the mainland.”
“It’s my fault, Em. I shouldn’t have let him take me the second time. I should have pretended to—to have a headache or something, but I didn’t want him to be suspicious. Burke had been talking to him—I’ve no idea what he said, but I had the feeling Nicholas was observing me very carefully.”
“It couldn’t be helped, luv. The path gets tricky here,” she added, leading the way around a mass of tangled roots. “I wish there was a bit more light. Did you bring your jewelry?”
“Every single piece.”
“Me, too, plus a few things Michael had—a solid gold watch, a set of silver hairbrushes, some diamond studs. I’ve got so much loot strapped around my waist I can hardly walk. Jesus! What was that!”
“It was just a bird calling out, Em.”
“Sounded like a wildcat to me.”
“Is—is there wildcats?” Corrie asked shakily.
“Of course not. Em’s just being fanciful. Look, you can see the moonlight up ahead. We’re almost there.”
“We gotta climb down that cliff?”
“There’s a path,” I told her. “Em and I know the way. Everything’s going to be fine, Corrie.”
“I wish I was as brave as you, Miz Marietta.”
I didn’t feel at all brave at the moment. I was, in fact, so terrified I could hardly breathe. I wondered how long I would last. How long would it be before the terror completely overwhelmed me and I became a jibbering mass, incapable of taking another step? This whole scheme seemed wildly improbable, utterly foolhardy. We must have been out of our minds to think we could actually make it, I thought, shoving a hanging vine out of the way. Nicholas and his men would find us, and then … I couldn’t allow myself to think of what might happen.
“Keep up, Corrie,” I said sternly.
“I’m right behind you, Miz Marietta.”
In the faint light I could see that she was still clutching the knife, and Em held the guard’s pistol in her hand, casually swinging it back and forth. I saw that it was cocked and, horrified, took it from her.
“You’d better leave the guns to me.”
“I was just getting the feel of it,” she protested.
“You were just getting ready to blow your foot off.”
“Really?”
“This is madness, Em.”
“I know, luv, but we have no choice.”
The trees were thinning now, the moonlight much brighter, and a few minutes later we cleared the woods entirely and moved rapidly across the rock-strewn open space above the cliff, making our way toward the narrow path that looked far more treacherous than it had in daylight. The enormous, jagged black rocks were frosted with silver, the waves below a deep pewter gray, churning furiously in the wind and sweeping over the sand with unexpected violence. I paused at the top of the path that scaled the side of the cliff.
“I’ll lead the way down, Corrie,” I said. “You follow closely behind me, and Em will bring up the rear. Watch your step and don’t—look down. It’s very narrow, but there’s no danger. We’ll be down on the beach in a matter of minutes.”
Corrie nodded, and I hesitated just a moment and then started down, keeping close to the rocky wall, trying to ignore the open air and the sheer drop to the rocks below. The wind was fierce, much fiercer than it had seemed earlier. The waves pounded, pounded, making a furious noise. Cautiously, step by step, I made my way down the steep incline that, in places, was no wider than two feet. Hair blew across my cheeks, across my eyes. My legs were shaky, my knees so trembly I felt they might buckle beneath me. My terror grew, and I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to summon the strength to continue. I stepped on a small rock. It rolled under my foot. I lost my balance, swinging out into space.
“Miz Marietta!”
Corrie seized my arm, jerked me back. I slammed against the rock wall with stunning force, flattening myself against it with arms spread wide. Dark clouds seemed to whirl in my head, widening, darkening, picking up speed with a dizzying force. I started to sag. Corrie took hold of my arms. I straightened up, taking several deep breaths.
“Jesus, luv,” Em said. Her face was white. “Are—are you all right?”
“I—think so. I stepped on a rock. It—rolled. Just—give me a minute to pull myself together.”
The dark clouds ebbed. The dizziness vanished. Corrie was holding one of my hands, stroking it gently. I sighed and smiled shakily and pulled my hand free, and then I continued on down, moving around projecting boulders and keeping my eye out for loose stones on the path ahead. It gradually grew wider, the slope less steep. The wind howled, mist from the waves stinging my cheeks. It was with great relief that I stepped onto the sandy beach, stumbling a little. I turned to assist Corrie. She gave me a brave smile.
“We made it,” she said.
“Barely!” Em exclaimed. “My heart almost stopped beating there for a moment, luv—you gave me such a fright! I’m still shaking.”
“So am I,” I said dryly.
We started trudging down the beach toward the cave. The sand was damp and slippery beneath our feet, making progress difficult, and the great waves continued to slosh over the sand, sweeping forward in foamy billows. The sky was a much lighter gray now, the color of pale ashes, the stars barely visible. The wind blew even harder, whistling against the rocky face of the cliff.
“This wind bothers me, Marietta.”
“I know. Perhaps it’ll die down.”
“I certainly hope so. I—I’m horribly worried, luv. Don’t let this jaunty, carefree manner fool you. I’ve never been so frightened in my life. If we don’t make it, and they catch us—”
“You mustn’t think about it, Em.”
“Don’t mind me, luv. I intend to be frightfully cheerful once we’re in the boat and away from the island.”
It seemed to take us forever to reach the mouth of the cave. I parted the hanging strands of ivy and fastened them back over a rock. Moonlight streamed in behind me as I stepped inside. The walls were damp and clammy, coated with liquid silver, it seemed. Em and Corrie followed as I moved down the tunnel, the sand dry here, even more slippery. I could hardly believe that we had made it this far. The apprehension I had felt earlier began to evaporate, replaced by steelly determination. We were going to do it. We were g
oing to get away. We were actually going to make it.
The boat was a shadowy outline in the darkness, the shape barely visible. I caught hold of the rope I had affixed to the front earlier and began to pull with all my might.
“Here,” Em said, “let me help.”
The boat slipped easily over the dry sand, heavy though it was with food, water, and guns. It took only a few moments for us to pull it to the mouth of the cave.
“The wind seems to have died down some,” I said.
“A little,” Em replied. “It still seems terribly fierce.”
I went back into the cave to fetch the oars, placing them inside the boat when I returned. The three of us stood there for a moment, looking out across the beach to the churning pewter-gray water and the dark, sinister mainland beyond. In my imagination I could see naked savages crouching behind the trees, watching us, their long bows drawn, arrows ready to fly. Pushing the vision out of my mind, I took hold of the rope again and, with Em and Corrie helping, pulled the boat across the wet sand toward the waves.
“That’s far enough,” Nicholas Lyon said.
I whirled around. He stood there on the beach with Burke and three other men, his head lowered, his hands resting lightly on his thighs. His red-brown hair blew in the wind, whipping across his forehead, and in the moonlight his face was utterly without expression. Burke was leering. The other men looked extremely worried. Corrie gave a whimper. Em stood very still, holding the end of the rope in her hands.
“See!” Burke cried. “I told ja! I told ja I knew something was up. I had my eye on her. I knew she was planning something, the way she was slipping around. I kept my eyes open, just like I always do.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Marietta,” Nicholas said quietly.
“What are you going to do?” I asked. My voice was surprisingly calm.
“You’re gonna be lashed!” Burke exclaimed. “You’re gonna get fifty, at least. Maybe more. All three a you are gonna catch it now, and it’s gonna be a pleasure to watch.”
“Shut up,” Red Nick ordered.
“You oughta kill her!” Burke continued. “She’s a trollop, just like the other one. You oughta get rid of her! Let me do it. Let me do it for you! A bitch like that doesn’t deserve to live.”
Nicholas Lyon turned to him and glanced at him for perhaps a fraction of a second. Then he reached into his waistband and pulled out his pistol. He leveled it point-blank at Burke’s forehead and pulled the trigger. The explosion was deafening, echoing against the face of the cliff. The impact knocked Burke off his feet, a spurting red hole blossoming just above the bridge of his nose as he crashed to the wet sand. Corrie screamed. Em gathered her into her arms, holding her fast.
Nicholas Lyon calmly blew on the barrel of the pistol and then thrust it back into his waistband. His harsh, handsome face was still without expression as he looked at me.
“Burke was right,” he said. “You’ll have to be punished.”
“It was my idea,” I told him. “It was all my idea. They—Em and Corrie didn’t want to go along with it. I forced them to. I don’t care what you do to me, but they’re not to blame, neither of them.”
He made no reply. He hadn’t so much as glanced at the bleeding corpse on the sand. Burke might never have existed. The three other men were even more apprehensive, uncertain about what might happen next. The wind died down all at once, raging fiercely one moment, still the next. A faint pink hue began to stain the pale gray sky.
“I suggest we go back to the stockade,” Nicholas said. “Men, you escort the other ladies back. I’ll see to Miss Danver.”
“No!” Corrie cried.
One of the men tore her out of Em’s arms. Corrie struggled valiantly. He frowned, doubled up his fist and slammed it against her jaw, catching her around the waist as she sagged forward, totally unconscious. He slung her across his shoulder and carried her down the beach as though she were a sack of potatoes. Em walked off with the other two without protest, one on either side of her. I faced Nicholas Lyon with cool composure that matched his own. Waves lapped at the prow of the boat, lapped at the grotesque corpse on the sand.
“Are you going to kill me, too?” I asked.
“I should,” he replied.
His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. He had just murdered a man in cold blood, and he felt absolutely nothing. He had pulled the pistol and fired without giving it a thought, had not even bothered to look at the body. He was a monster, but I had known that from the beginning. I gazed at him now without fear, without feeling and with no hope whatsoever. I had matched wits with him, had thought myself crafty and clever indeed, and all the while he had been wise to my maneuvers. He had undoubtedly been amused by my feminine wiles, a sardonic smile playing on his lips as he let me continue making a fool of myself.
“I don’t care what you do to me,” I repeated, “but Em and Corrie are innocent. Neither of them wanted to help me. I made them do it.”
“We’ll discuss it later,” he said. “Come along, Marietta.”
He began to stroll casually down the beach toward the pathway cut into the side of the cliff. I followed meekly, stumbling on the damp sand. Nicholas Lyon never once looked back, but when he reached the foot of the path he turned, waiting for me to catch up. He took my hand, assisting me gallantly, letting me move up first so that he could keep an eye on me and take hold of me if I lost my footing. I climbed up the steep incline, not caring whether I slipped or not. When I was halfway up I paused, looking down. I could jump now. I could end it all. It would be over in a matter of seconds. Red Nick waited patiently, knowing what was on my mind, unperturbed.
I couldn’t do it, of course. I truly didn’t care what happened to me, but I couldn’t desert Corrie and Em. Em might be able to fend for herself, but Corrie was utterly defenseless and I still might be able to save her somehow. I continued on up the path, feeling his presence behind me. The sky was more pink than gray now, taking on a faint golden-orange hue on the horizon. I reached the top, exhausted, depleted, swaying slightly. Nicholas took hold of my arm, steadying me, his manner strangely compassionate. I looked up at his face. It might have been sculpted in granite.
“I’m all right now,” I said.
He let go of my arm and moved across the clearing toward the trees, lithe and graceful as a panther. Although he maintained complete silence, that curious gallantry prevailed as we moved through the woods. He took my hand now and then, leading me around a tangle of shrubbery, helping me over a fallen log. He held vines back out of the way as I passed, treating me in a manner that might almost reflect a tender, protective concern.
The sun had come over the rim of the horizon as we cleared the woods, and a dark golden-orange light streamed down in slanting rays as we passed through the gates and crossed the stockade. Several of the men were loitering out in front of the barracks, watching us, and I saw Em going inside the cottage door, Tremayne holding her arm in a firm grip. I had no idea what Nicholas was going to do to me. I didn’t really care. I didn’t seem to be able to feel anything at all as we moved up the steps and into the foyer.
“You’re filthy,” he said in a flat, toneless voice. “Go to your room and bathe and change. I’ll be in the drawing room.”
I went upstairs and removed my clothes and unfastened the cloth bag holding the jewelry and dropped it into the jewelry box. I took a long bath and brushed my hair until it gleamed and put on a frock of sky-blue brocade embroidered with tiny royal blue flowers. I adjusted the off-the-shoulder puffed sleeves and ran my hands over the snug waist and spread the full skirt out over the layered petticoats. I gazed at myself in the mirror with sapphire blue eyes that seemed utterly lifeless. My hair fell in a rich tumble of copper-red waves, spilling to my shoulders in thick profusion, but I didn’t bother to pin it back.
I felt numb as I went downstairs. Nicholas was waiting in the drawing room, drinking a cup of coffee. He didn’t look up as I entered. He continued to drink his coffee, lost in tho
ught, it seemed, his blue eyes reflective. He had changed into a pair of snug dark brown breeches and a pale, creamy tan shirt open at the throat, the full bell sleeves gathered at the wrists. His dark brown boots were glossy. His tarnished copper hair was unbrushed, falling across his forehead in feathery locks. He finished his coffee, set the cup down and turned to look at me, his eyes still thoughtful.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asked gently.
“I don’t know. I don’t care.”
“It seems those endearments you murmured last night were less than sincere. All the while you were planning to run away.”
“I don’t deny it.”
“That distresses me, my dear,” he continued. “I had hoped we had reached a new phase in our relationship. I had hoped you were actually beginning to enjoy my company.”
His voice was low, gentle, almost crooning. He looked at me as he might have looked at a beloved child. The voice, the manner were far more chilling than anger would have been. The cold, harsh Nicholas was familiar. This tender, concerned lover was frightening indeed. I gazed at him with my chin held high, my eyes perfectly level. He sighed and shook his head, a regretful smile on his lips.
“Burke told me you were planning something. He wasn’t sure just what, but he knew something was afoot. I chose not to believe him. I made love to you, and then I made love to you again, and you clasped me to you and rubbed your palms over my back and whispered sweet words. Apparently you meant none of them.”
“I hate you, Nicholas. I always have.”
“I went back to my room and slept, and half an hour later Burke awakened me and said that you and the little nigger were gone. I summoned the men, and we found the guard outside the gates, quite unconscious. You must have hit him very hard.”
“I wanted to get away from the island. I wanted to get away from you.”
“I was upset, naturally, but most of all I was concerned for your safety. I was afraid you might actually get off the island and fall into the hands of the Indians. It was then, my dear, that I realized I had fallen quite hopelessly in love with you.”
“You’re incapable of love,” I said.
Love Me, Marietta Page 29
