"I've been very lax with you, Marietta," he said. "Much too lax. I let my feelings for you get in the way."
"You have no feelings."
"I realize now I should have taken a firmer hand at the very beginning."
He sighed and took a step toward me, the skirt of his embroidered maroon frock coat swaying, ruffles fluttering at chest and wrists. His dark copper hair was burnished by the candlelight, gleaming with rich red highlights. He smiled, his lips lifting at one corner.
"Don't come any closer," I warned.
"I don't know where your little nigger is, but rest assured I'll attend to her. Right now I shall attend to you—quite severely, I fear. I'm going to teach you a much needed lesson."
My hand flew behind me, groping on the dressing table. My fingers closed over the ivory handle of a hand mirror. I pulled it up and hurled it at him. He ducked as it sailed past his shoulder and continued moving toward me, slowly, smiling in anticipation. I rushed forward, trying to dart past him. His hand shot out, seizing my left wrist, wrenching it savagely.
"Let go of me!"
"Struggle all you like," he told me. "That'll only make it more interesting."
I pressed my lips into a tight line and kicked his shin with all the force I could muster. He winced in pain, bending forward, and as he did so I raked my nails across his cheek, digging deeply into the flesh, drawing blood. He let go of my wrist and stepped back and brought his right fist crashing against my jaw. Blazing pain shot throughout my body. I reeled backward, lost my balance, fell to my knees, stunned. Nicholas rubbed his bleeding cheek.
"You're going to be sorry for that," he promised. His voice was harsh now, metallic, filled with menace. "You're going to be sorry indeed."
He started toward me again and then stopped in his tracks as a thundering explosion sounded in the harbor, only faintly muted by distance. There was another and yet another. Nicholas Lyon wore a look of dismay, realization dawning on him as a fourth blast exploded with rumbling force. I touched my jaw, moving it gently to ascertain that it wasn't broken. As another explosion thundered he looked at me with blue eyes blazing, his cheeks ashen.
"It's true!" I cried. "Everything I said was true."
"You're responsible for this!"
"I'm glad. I'm glad! They're blowing up the whole island! The armory is going to go any minute now,"
"You bitch!"
He leaped forward, and his hands flew out, seizing my throat, strong, sinewy fingers closing around it, thumbs pressing brutally into the soft flesh just beneath my windpipe. I gasped, grabbing his wrists, trying to break his grip, and he shook me viciously, squeezing even harder. Bright lights seemed to flash before my eyes, whirling rapidly, and I lowered my lids. The lights continued to whirl and my breath was gone and my lungs seemed about to burst as those thumbs crushed flesh and muscle. I grabbed his wrists again and opened my eyes and saw his lace looming over me, his teeth bared, his eyes flashing blue fire. I tried desperately to pull those wrists apart, but my strength was going and I was beginning to sag. I knew I was going to die.
My head was filled with a shrill ringing noise, but I heard his yell nevertheless. He released my throat abruptly, staggering. I fell back onto the carpet in a limp heap, barely conscious. Through a shimmering haze I saw him above me, his legs wobbling and his torso swaying back and forth as his arms flew behind his back, reaching for something. He made a strange gurgling noise in his throat, beginning to topple, and I rolled out of the way as he fell crashing to the floor with a heavy thud, his arms thrown out. He lay there beside me without moving, and through the haze I saw Corrie standing a few feet away with the scissors held tightly in one hand, the shiny blades dripping with blood.
I coughed, trying to sit up. I was much too weak to make it. Everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, Come was on her knees beside me, trying to pull me up. I moaned and coughed and blinked my eyes. Her own were large and dark and filled with alarm as she helped me into a sitting position. My jaw still throbbed with pain and my throat was so sore I could hardly swallow, but I was fully conscious now . . . and alive. Corrie held me against her. Her arms were surprisingly strong,
"I thought you was dead," she said.
"I think—I'm all—right," I croaked hoarsely.
"I came up the stairs, and I heard him in here, heard him threatening you. I was afraid to come in. I stayed in the hall, leaning against the wall, and I was so scared, Miz Marietta."
"You should—have—gone on to—the gardens."
"Then he hit you and them explosions went off. I peeked through the doorway and saw him choking you and I—I didn't even think. I just came running in and grabbed the scissors and stabbed him."
"Help me—up—Corrie," I whispered.
"Is—are you hurt bad?"
She helped me to my feet. The floor seemed to tilt and sway beneath me, but the sensation soon passed. The dizziness vanished. My head cleared. I coughed again, wincing at the pain. Corrie still had hold of my arm, her brow furrowed with concern.
"I'll be fine," I said carefully. It hurt to talk, and I winced again, forcing myself to continue. "We must hurry. The gardens. Get the bundle on the—dressing—stool."
Corrie nodded and snatched up the bundle, and we left the room. As she paused to pick up the dress and cloak she had left in the hall, I looked back through the doorway at the man sprawled out on the carpet with arms thrown out and head turned to one side, copper hair gleaming richly. Red Nick was dead. The bloody scissors lay on the carpet nearby where Corrie had dropped them. Nicholas Lyon had loved me in his own, curiously twisted way, and that love had brought about his downfall. I looked at the body, feeling no remorse, feeling no horror, feeling nothing but relief. Corrie took my hand and I turned away. We started toward the stairs.
I held on to the banister, still weak, trying to move as quickly as possible. Come moved ahead of me, my bundle and her own dress and cloak under her arm. We were perhaps halfway down when the armory went. The explosion caused the walls of the house to shake. The banister trembled under my hand. One of the huge chandeliers in the foyer crashed to the floor, shattering. The entire lower floor glowed a bright, dazzling orange. Corrie paused for only a moment, then straightened her shoulders and continued down the stairs as the glowing light grew brighter, flickering wildly, as the first explosion was followed by a dozen smaller ones like a fireworks display gone mad. At the foot of the stairs she "turned and took my hand, and we hurried down the narrow hallway to the back door.
It flew open before we reached it. Em and Jeremy Bond tore into the house with frantic expressions and stopped short when they saw us. Em took one look at me and gasped and gathered me into her arms, holding me tightly, and Jeremy Bond frowned and herded all three of us out the door and into the gardens. The noise was still deafening. We could hear loud, hysterical voices over the crackle of flames and the minor explosions as kegs of powder blew and boxes of ammunition caught fire and split open with the noise of a thousand firecrackers going off at once. The whole sky seemed to be a bright, blazing red-orange, and the gardens were as light as day as the flickering, flaming glow spread. Great clouds of smoke spilled over the house, filling the air.
"My God!" Em cried. "What happened to you! Your jaw! Your throat! We were waiting out here in the dark, and I was getting worried and then—"
"Later!" Jeremy Bond barked. "We'll talk later. Right now we've got to get our tails out of here before that crew comes looking for us."
"She's been hurt!"
"She's walking, isn't she? Shut up and follow orders!"
"Oh, he's charming, luv," she said spitefully. "You really can pick them, I'll say that for you."
She turned to pick up a large bundle from beneath one of the shrubs, and as she did so a tall, powerfully built man with straight golden-brown hair and stern brown eyes came rushing around the side of the house, his leather jerkin flapping open, a pistol in his hand. Corrie stiffened. Em clutched her bundle and gave a shrill s
cream. Jeremy Bond looked relieved, motioning for the man to join us.
"Damn!" the man yelled. "When you do it, Jeremy-boy, you do it big!''
"What are you doing here, Randolph? I thought I ordered everyone to meet on the beach."
"I know you did, lad, but I finished settin' up the explosives in the warehouse and figured you might be needin' a little help up here. I started up the road toward the stockade, got halfway up when the damn thing blew. The front of the place flew apart, stones hurtlin' in every direction. Flames shot up in the air, lickin' the sky."
"Who's he?" Em demanded.
Jeremy ignored her. "Since you're here, Randolph, you can give me some help with the women. We have to get them over the wall and down to the beach."
"Happy to," Randolph retorted. "We'd best hurry it up, lad. The courtyard is swarmin' with pirates. No one paid any attention to me as I passed—too much confusion, guess they thought I was one of 'em—but some of 'em are bound to come back here any minute now."
Jeremy Bond nodded tersely and scooped me up into his arms and started moving toward the trees. I clung to him, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. Randolph slung an arm around Em's waist and took Corrie by the wrist and hurried them after us. Em protested vehemently, struggling to break loose and informing him in no uncertain terms that she could walk unaided. Randolph merely grinned, tightening his hold and dragging her along. I closed my eyes, beginning to feel dizzy again, growing weaker by the second. I rested my head against the side of Jeremy Bond's neck and breathed in his musky odor, feeling I was in the middle of a nightmare that would never end. He carried me up the stairs and along the walkway and then set me down gently beside one of the cannons. Randolph brought Em and Corrie up, holding both of them firmly as the sky glared orange and great billows of smoke filled the air.
"You can let go of me now!" Em snapped. "I'm not a baby!"
"You're a saucy wench, aren't you?"
"I don't like being manhandled by a great brute like you!"
"My name's Randolph, Dick Randolph. You can call me Randy."
"I'll bet you are," she retorted.
"Get 'em down," Jeremy ordered.
"Come on, Saucy," Randolph said cheerfully. "You're first."
Before Em could protest he bent down and wrapped his arms around her legs and slung her across his shoulders as though she were a sack of corn meal. Em let out a shriek and clutched her bundle. It rattled noisily as Randolph took hold of the rope tied around the base of the cannon and leaped over the side of the wall. Em continued to shriek as he scrambled down and deposited her on the ground. Jeremy held me in his arms. I felt faint, so weak I could hardly keep my eyes open. Randolph scrambled back up the wall and spoke very gently to Corrie. She nodded meekly and wrapped her dress and cloak over my bundle, holding them firmly as he picked her up and carried her over the wall.
"I—I'm so sleepy," I said. "I can't make it, Jeremy. You'll have to go without me. I—just—can't—make it."
"You're going to be fine, lass."
I closed my eyes, reeling, and I felt him sling me over his shoulder as Randolph had slung Em, but it seemed to be happening to someone else. I seemed to sway in midair as he moved slowly, carefully down the wall, one arm wrapped tightly around my legs, holding onto the rope with his free hand. He must be terribly strong, I thought, and then I seemed to be swallowed up by darkness, sinking into a blessed oblivion.
I opened my eyes later and saw trees and rocks and was vaguely aware that we were moving downhill toward the beach. I was nestled in his arms. He carried me lightly, easily, as though I weighed nothing at all. I sighed, closing my eyes again, swimming in darkness. Then I stirred and saw that we were on the beach. Several other men had joined us, and they all seemed to be talking at once. Three boats rocked on the sloshing waves. Em and Corrie were already sitting in one, Em having a spirited conversation with Randolph who stood waist-high in the water, steadying the boat. Moonlight shimmered, and in the distance the red glow spread over the top of the island. Jeremy Bond looked down at me, a worried frown creasing his brow.
"I'm perfectly all right," I told him. "I'm just sleepy."
"Of course you are, lass. Of course."
"Don't humor me. I'm not a child."
"We'll just get you in the boat, lass. You'll be fine."
He carried me through the water and set me down beside Em. She gathered me to her, stroking my hair.
"Delayed shock," Jeremy told her. "She'll rally in a little while."
I heard them talking about me, and then I heard the slap of oars in the water. The boat rocked pleasantly, and I rested my head against Em's shoulder. Later, much later, I sat up and brushed the hair out of my eyes, acutely aware of the cold. My head was perfectly clear. Em sat beside me, her arm around me, and Corrie huddled on the other side, stroking my hand. Randolph was sitting at one end of the boat, Jeremy at the other, both rowing in strong, steady unison. An icy wind blew across the water, chilling me to the bone.
"How are you feeling?" Em asked.
"Not too marvelous," I replied. "I'll survive."
"Corrie told me what happened, luv."
"It's over now," I said. "It's all behind us."
Silvery strands of reflected moonlight danced on the dark water, and there was a heavy haze in the air, I could see another long rowboat up ahead of us, and, turning, I saw another behind. Far, far in the distance I could see glowing orange light as fires burned on the island. We must have come at least halfway, I thought, turning back around and gathering the folds of the cloak around my shoulders,
"They blew up every single ship in the harbor," Em told me, "all the warehouses as well. The whole island's aflame now. It looks like Red Nick's men are out of business—those that survived. Did you get your jewelry, luv?"
I nodded. "It's in a bag, strapped around my waist."
"Mine, too," she said, "and I've got some other things in my bundle. Randolph gave me a lot of trouble about the bundle, said it was too bulky and heavy. I told him to take a flying leap. He's something, that one, stubborn as a mule— and strong as an ox. I think I'm in love."
"You talkin' about me?" Randolph barked.
"Never you mind, luv," she called gaily.
The haze grew thicker, billowing across the boat in foggy clouds. The wind blew vigorously. Spumes of icy spray splattered us as the men continued to row. The boat rocked precariously, bouncing on the waves. I looked over my shoulder, but I could no longer see the island, nor could I see the boat that had been behind us. I huddled between Em and Corrie, shivering as needles of spray stung my cheeks and wet my cloak. We had survived the island and its horrors. We were on our way back to civilization at last. As the wind grew stronger and large, angry waves slashed the side of the boat, I prayed we would make it.
BOOK THREE:
The Rogue
Twenty
The wind stopped abruptly, so abruptly that it was startling. One minute the waves were hitting the sides of the boat, spraying us thoroughly, and the next the boat was rocking gently from side to side and the water was still. I was vastly relieved, but there was a worried look on Jeremy Bond's face. Through the fine cloud of haze I could see a deep furrow above the bridge of his nose. His mouth was set in a tight line. He looked over my head at Randolph.
"I don't like this," he said.
"I don't like it either, Jeremy-boy. Not a bit."
"What's wrong?" I asked. "The wind's stopped blowing."
"That's just it, lass," Randolph said.
"Jesus, you two are scaring me," Em exclaimed. "I don't like the tone you're using. Are we going to sink?"
"How far to the cove?" Jeremy asked.
"A mile, maybe, maybe a mile and a half."
"I think we'd better head for shore, Randolph!"'
"Aye, it might be a good idea."
"Will you two please tell us what's going on!" Em snapped.
"Maybe nothin'," Randolph retorted, "nothin' for you to get all stirred up about.
You just sit there and keep that saucy tongue still for a few minutes while we row to shore."
"We'll probably be eaten by cannibals!"
"Hush, Em," I warned.
Jeremy Bond straightened his shoulders, took a firm grip on the oars and dipped them into the water. Randolph did the same, and the boat turned in the water, pointing toward the shore which was barely visible, a dark line in the darkness which, I realized, was gradually lightening. The haze swirled and lifted, thinning out. There was no sound whatsoever except the splash of oars dipping into water. Everything was still, frighteningly still. It was almost as though the earth were holding its breath, I thought, apprehensive now as the men rowed with grim determination.
"I'm getting a queasy feeling," Em observed. "I'll feel much better when we're on dry land."
"So will I."
Corrie looked up at us, silent, stoic, refusing to show the alarm I knew she must be feeling. Only a few minutes ago I had been shivering as icy wind assailed us, and now I felt warm. The sudden change in temperature was as disturbing as the abrupt stillness. The haze lifted, evaporating quickly, and a curious opal light began to seep through the semi-darkness. I realized that it was almost dawn. Layers of darkness melted away, revealing a sky the color of slate, deep, deep gray stained with the strange opal light that should have been pink and gold.
The oars struck bottom. Jeremy Bond climbed out of the boat, took hold of it, and began to pull us toward the beach. Randolph joined him, and a few moments later the bottom of the boat scraped on sand. Em grabbed her bundle and held it tightly as Randolph clamped his hands about her waist and heaved her out of the boat, setting her on the beach. She brushed her skirts and gave him a hateful look. He grinned, then turned to help Corrie out. Jeremy Bond reached for my hand, clasping it firmly. I climbed out and stood beside Corrie and Em. Jeremy picked up the remaining bundle.
Jennifer Wilde Page 33
