Jennifer Wilde

by Marietta Love Me

  I nodded, removing a hairpin. The gates were gilded with bright silver moonlight. I didn't dare approach the lock until the clouds passed back over the moon, I frowned, impatient. Em sighed heavily, clearly disgusted. Come peered around the stockade, looking for the guard. Each minute seemed to drag on for an eternity.

  "We can't wait much longer," Em said. "Too much time has elapsed already. If we intend to make it, we'll have to be completely away from the island before dawn. Damn this moonlight!"

  A thin veil of clouds drifted across the moon. Some of the silvery illumination vanished, though not nearly enough to suit me. Bracing myself, I moved over to the gates and examined the enormous lock in the hazy silver-gray light. It looked formidable indeed, much more formidable than anything I had ever attempted before, but I refused to be discouraged. Remembering those days on the prison ship when, to relieve the tedium and squalor, Angie had taught me how to pick almost any lock, I deftly inserted the tip of the hairpin into the lock and began to jiggle it, concentrating on touch and sound, eyes closed as I felt the tip of the pin scratching, exploring.

  "Do hurry, luv," Em protested. "The guard will be back any time now. I'm getting very jumpy."

  "Hush," I scolded.

  The tip of the pin touched, caught on metal, and I began to pry gently, my eyes still closed. The pin slipped, scratched, twisted out of my hand, dropping to the ground. I cursed and knelt down to find it just as the thin clouds drifted away from the moon and brilliant silver rays spilled down with the brightness of afternoon sunshine. I spotted the pin, retrieved it, and inserted it back into the lock. I could hear heavy footsteps in the distance, moving slowly, moving closer. Em was gripping Corrie's hand with bone-crushing force, a tense expression on her face.

  "Come on, damn you," I whispered, giving the pin a vicious jab. There was an extremely loud click. "There!" I said.

  I gave the lock a turn. It clicked again, much louder, and then, to my horror, it tore loose and crashed to the ground with a deafening clatter. Em gasped and grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the shadows as the heavy footsteps came running. Unlocked now, the heavy gates began to gradually ease open, swinging outward.

  "What we gonna do!" Corrie exclaimed.

  "I'll divert," Em said quickly. "You—find a rock or something, luv. Do what you have to do."

  I nodded, understanding immediately, and Em stepped out of the shadows and stood in front of the gates with her hands on her hips and a disconcerted smile on her lips as the guard came rushing up, a long, deadly looking pistol aimed at her heart.

  "What th' 'ell are you doin'!" he yelled.

  "Not so loud, luv," she 'protested. "You'll wake the dead."

  "It's you, is it—Tremayne's woman. Whatja doin' out 'ere at this time a night? Them gates—they're open!"

  "No need to get yourself riled up, luv," she said reasonably. "I couldn't sleep and I—I thought I'd take a little stroll. It's a glorious night, isn't it? Don't you love the moonlight?"

  "You—you was try in' to sneak outta th' stockade!"

  Em sighed heavily, shaking her head. "I was leaning against the gates, enjoying the moonlight, and the lock—it just fell off. It must have been terribly rusty. Shocking. I should think Red Nick would keep things in better repair."

  "You're lyin'!" he bellowed.

  "Do lower your voice, luv, and while you're at it you might lower that pistol, too. A big strong brute like you doesn't really need a gun in order to subdue a—a poor defenseless female like me."

  There was a playful lilt in her voice, and her ploy was beginning to work. The guard scowled menacingly, his brows forming a straight, dark line, but he was a shade less belligerent. Em smiled coyly, adjusting one of the sleeves of her dark yellow cotton frock. For some reason, the exceedingly low-cut bodice slipped even lower. The guard lowered his pistol, taking a step nearer. Corrie was so terrified I thought she might faint. I gave her hand a squeeze and, putting a finger to my lips, cautioned her to keep silent.

  "I'm takin' you back to Tremayne!" the guard said gruffly. "I've a feelin' he ain't gonna like this."

  "He probably won't," Em admitted. "We—don't you think we might talk this over, luv? You seem a very reasonable chap—besides being so big and strong and attractive."

  "None a your tricks! I saw what 'appened to Grimmet. Cleeve near killed Mm. Grimmet said it wuz all your fault, said you led 'im on. Me, I ain't gonna be made a fool uv."

  "Of course not," Em replied. "You're much too sensible— and much too attractive."

  She smiled again, using her wiles with outrageous aplomb, and the guard was definitely intrigued and more than a little bewildered, obviously torn between duty and desire. Should he take her back to Tremayne, or should he take advantage of the invitation she was so blatantly making? Em brushed a (hick chestnut wave from her cheek and arched her back ever so slightly, causing the low-cut bodice to slip even lower,

  "You're a man who does his duty," she said, "I can see that, luv, and it's your duty to take me back to Tremayne, but—we don't have to be in such a hurry, do we? It's such a lovely night."

  "What're you gettin'at?"

  "I might as well confess it, luv—I've had my eye on you for some time. I have this terrible weakness for shoulders, and yours are so broad. I noticed right away, the first time I saw you."

  He was helpless now, utterly. Em tilted her chin down and peered up at him with melting hazel eyes and then, stepping forward, rested her hand lightly on his cheek. I spotted a rock on the ground a few feet away. It was large enough to do the job. Cautioning Corrie to silence once more, I crept forward, knelt down, and picked up the rock, grasping it firmly in my hand.

  "You want it, don't ja?" the guard growled.

  "Luv, how did you ever guess?"

  He jammed his pistol into his waistband and made a noise in his throat and reached for her. Em wrapped her arms around his shoulders and turned him a bit so that I would have an easier target. I moved very quickly, leaping forward, bringing the rock up, bringing it down sharply on his crown, He didn't make a sound. He slumped immediately, sagging in Em's arms. She staggered under his weight, almost toppling over backward.

  "We'll have to drag him outside the gates," she said, "can't leave him here in plain sight. Give me a hand, luv, he weighs a ton."

  I dropped the rock and took hold of the guard, and together we dragged him out the gates and propped him against the wall on the other side, half under a large shrub. He was like an enormous rag doll, limp and lolling. Em removed the pistol from his waistband.

  "He's not dead, is he?" I asked.

  "Not quite," she replied. "He'll be out for several hours, though, and when he comes to he's going to have a wretched headache. You wield a wicked rock, luv."

  "I believe in being thorough."

  "We make a marvelous team, don't we?"

  "Is—is everything all right?" Corrie asked, joining us.

  "Everything's fine, luv. Let's just push these gates shut and prop a log or something against them to keep them shut. We can't leave them sagging open like this—someone might notice."

  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, th6 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 going 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 b
each 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 nim 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.