Falconer's Heart

by Janice Bennett

  “Very neat.” Riki joined him.

  Belmont kneeled, felt for the man’s pulse and nodded. “Let’s get on with it.” He subjected the guard to a rapid search, found the key ring that hung from a chain, unfastened it and rose.

  “Gil—” Riki tried to take it from him. “Leave it to me. Please. I can’t ask this of you.”

  “I’m deep in it already.”

  “Riki?” David’s voice called softly. “If this is a rescue mission, I’m sure glad to see you. Is that Belmont with you?”

  “It is,” the viscount snapped.

  “So you finally decided to believe me, did you?”

  Belmont’s jaw clenched. “You don’t belong in this time. You must go back to your own.”

  David’s lips twitched in a rueful smile. “And you hope I drown in the process? Don’t worry, I probably shall. But I never thought I’d be so glad to try.”

  Belmont shoved a key into the lock but it didn’t work. He repeated the process three more times to no avail, with Riki hanging on his arm, casting uneasy glances over her shoulder, afraid that at any moment they would be discovered. How long does someone remain unconscious after they’ve been hit over the head? The fifth key, at last, produced a protesting creak as the rusty inner workings responded. The door to the iron cage swung open.

  David bounded out. “Lord, it feels good to be free of that place! I was afraid I might only come out feetfirst, the way he kept looking at us.” He gestured toward the inert form of the guard.

  He turned with no more ado to the other cell. By the dim light they could just make out a sleeping form curled beneath a blanket on the rough bunk. “Marie, my love,” David called softly. “Here, Belmont, unlock this, will you?”

  Belmont knelt beside the still-unconscious guard again and refastened the ring of heavy keys where they belonged. “No.”

  David swung about. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean she’s staying. I’m committing one treasonous act already, releasing you before a trial. But you’ve got to get back to your own time before you do any more damage to mine. She’s a different case. She belongs here, and I’m going to see to it she pays for her treachery.”

  “You’d take it out on her, make her the scapegoat!” David’s hands clenched.

  Belmont glanced up from his work. “She’s no innocent caught in a trap, Warwick. She knew what she was doing—she used you, if you’ll wipe that besotted look off your face and try to remember.”

  “Please, Gil.” Riki laid her hand on his shoulder. “What difference can it make if she goes with us? If she’s to be shot anyway, her disappearance won’t affect history. She’d be as good as dead, as far as this time is concerned. She’ll simply vanish. And she may die, we all may drown, as we try to go home.”

  Slowly he turned his head, and his cold, furious expression made a stranger of him. She fell back a pace.

  “Leave me some scraps of my honor, madam.”

  That look of unbearable, frigid contempt sliced through her. No trace remained of the earlier love that had burned so brightly in his eyes. She had killed it.

  So why must his unyielding sense of honor and duty make him that much dearer to her, that much more worthy of her love? His withdrawal—no, it was more than that—his utter rejection of her, proved unbearable. Pain welled up, robbing her of coherent thought.

  Belmont started to rise, only to crumple on top of the guard. He didn’t move.

  “Gil!” Riki stifled a scream and sank beside him, feeling for the pulse in his neck that beat faint but steady. Frantic, she cast a glance behind her at David.

  Her cousin, his face unnaturally pale, held Belmont’s pistol by the barrel. “He-he’ll be all right, Riki.”

  “How could you?” She hugged Belmont, unheeded tears starting to her eyes. “David, he was helping us!”

  “He was leaving Marie! Damn it, Riki, I’m not going to let them murder her. She means more to me than my own life.”

  He shoved Belmont’s sturdy body aside, found the keys that were once more attached to the guard’s chain and jerked them free. “I didn’t want to do that but I had to, Riki. I had to. Marie,” he called, soft but urgent.

  She was sitting on the bed, her tousled blonde curls falling about her pale face. She clutched the top of the rough navy blanket about her as she watched, wide-eyed. “David?”

  He rammed the first key into the lock, attempted to turn it then tried another. “We’re getting out of here.” At last he found the right key and thrust the squeaking door open.

  In a moment Marie was on her feet and in his arms, holding on to him as if she had thought never again to find that haven. When she at last turned her face from his, she saw Riki kneeling on the floor beside Belmont. “What have you done?” she whispered, her lovely eyes widening with horror.

  “Belmont knocked out the guard to free me. I had to hit him to save you. Riki, I’m sorry. I had no choice, you must see that. Would you have me leave her?”

  Riki shook her head. “No.” She cradled Belmont’s unconscious body in her arms, holding him tight.

  “Come on.” David grabbed her hand and dragged her to her feet.

  She released Belmont slowly, reluctantly. “What—”

  “We’ve got to lock them up before they awaken. What are the odds of their recovering and raising an alarm before we’re safe?”

  Marie went instantly to Belmont and grasped his shoulders. “I need help.”

  “No!” Riki pulled her away. “David, he saved you!”

  “And now I’m going to save him. Do you want him accused of treason for helping us? This way no one can blame him. He can say he suspected you of trying to free us, so he came back to the ship but I was already free and overpowered him. This way his precious honor remains intact.”

  He pushed her aside and she made no protest as he and Marie dragged him into the first of the iron cages. The guard went into the other.

  Riki went inside, then kneeled beside the bunk where Belmont lay and clutched his limp hand. It was all for the best, she told herself. David was right. It would have come out anyway, somehow, that Belmont hadn’t ridden to London with Menchen that night after all. This way he’d be cleared of all blame.

  She arranged him more comfortably on the narrow bed, which was no easy task. He was not a light man. Then she bent to kiss him one last time.

  “Come on, Riki!” David looked anxiously over his shoulder. “We’re wasting time.”

  Time, that horrible dimension that must always separate her from her beloved Belmont. She brushed his lips once more with her own then allowed David to fasten the cell behind her.

  Believe me, Gil, this is for the best. She willed him to hear her thoughts, to understand why this had to be. She couldn’t stay with him. She belonged in the future, not here where her heart yearned to remain. She was a nobody in his world, not someone of whom he could be proud. If she stayed, she wouldn’t continue to bear the glamour of being an American spy. She’d be only Riki…

  And how much damage might she do, all unintentionally, by knowing things a person of this era he had no right to know? No, Marie might be able to go to a future that was not yet determined, but Riki could not remain in a past that had already been decided. She turned blindly, and hurried after the other two, who wasted no time now that they were free. None of them spoke again until they had gone several hundred yards along the dock, leaving the ship far behind.

  “What now?” David said at last when they stopped for breath.

  Riki shook her head, too depressed to really care what David said or did at the moment, her thoughts still with Belmont. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” The strain of the last few weeks—or possibly years—sounded in his voice. “Damn it, Riki, didn’t you have a plan for once you got me out of there?”

  “Not really. I—”

  “Oh, my God, you never were one to prepare for anything properly, were you?”

  “
That’s not fair, David. It was always you who—”

  “This is no time to argue!” Marie broke across their childish flare-up. “You have rescued us and for this we are grateful. We shall now merely hide ourselves.”

  “For how long?” David glanced at the overcast sky and excitement replaced his tension. “Look, you can’t see any stars showing. Has there been any lightning, Riki?”

  With a massive effort, Riki rallied. They wouldn’t know, of course. They’d been in that horrible dark hold, where Belmont lay now…

  “No, only rain.” She shook off the last remnants of her lethargy. “The weather has the feel of thunder and lightning, now, though. Don’t you think so?”

  David stood still for a moment, his eyes closed. “Yes, it does. Almost…” He looked about, eager. “Let’s find a small boat and head out into the Channel.”

  Find. He meant steal, of course. Under the circumstances there was no other way, she supposed. But she hated doing it.

  “It looks like it may break at any moment.” Excited, Marie scanned the thickly clouded sky.

  “This is our chance! Let’s not miss it.” David cast a quick glance up and down the wharf. “There are some small crafts over there. Let’s go.”

  “We…we may need some supplies.” Vividly Riki remembered the unpredictability of a raging storm. It might take no more than moments for them to encounter the lightning, or it might take all day—or even a week.

  David frowned. “Think you can find some? We can’t waste much time.”

  Riki nodded. The kitchen at the inn where she stayed should provide ample food—even if they didn’t know they were doing it. That, at least, she could pay for—with the coins Belmont had left with her. She hurried off on her errand, leaving the other two to “procure” transportation and fasten an iron chain to the top of the mast.

  Reentering the inn wasn’t difficult. Nor was locating enough food to last them for a day or two. She packed this up quickly in a basket that stood on a shelf, all the while casting anxious glances over her shoulder to where the scullion slept peacefully in the chair.

  By the time she returned to the dock almost an hour later, her nerves were tied in knots. Marie was waiting for her, and grasped the basket Riki carried. She hustled Riki along the long, dark wharf to the end, where David had already partly raised the sails of a small ketch, preparing for casting off. Riki jumped to the deck then turned to help Marie.

  “Free the lines will you, Riki?” David, busy with the sails, didn’t even glance at her.

  With the practiced ease of years, Riki clambered back out, unfastened the lines and cast them to the bottom of the boat. Marie gripped the wooden edge of the wharf to hold them close until Riki was once more safely aboard. Together they pushed free, and David dragged the mainsail into place.

  The breeze caught it and the cold spray hit Riki full in the face as they slipped into the dark harbor. At first they remained close to the shadowy outlines of ships riding silently in their berths. Belmont lay a prisoner in one of these, and by their hands.

  Riki closed her eyes, fighting back her tears. He would never forgive her for what she had done to him. Was this why he would retreat, leaving the pleasures of London behind to build Falconer’s Folly on that tiny, almost inaccessible island? And would his “dearest lady” of the journal be his memory of her, or would he find another woman, one who would wipe clean his feelings of betrayal and dishonor?

  That thought proved almost unbearable. With a last whispered goodbye, she turned resolutely away and stared ahead, into the darkness of the Channel.

  Riki had no idea how long they sailed. She huddled in her cocoon of unhappiness, the vision of Belmont’s fury her constant and uncomfortable companion. At last the iciness of the unrelenting spray coming off the churning sea penetrated her misery. It froze her, stinging, but it wasn’t as salty as she expected. She glanced up into the cloudy sky and realized this was more than a drizzling mist.

  “Rain!” Marie cried, as the realization struck her at the same moment. She hugged David, who sat close at her side, his arm about her. “The storm’s beginning!”

  He grinned, excited, at Riki. “We’ll make it!”

  Riki nodded, her heart aching. They had to make it. She couldn’t stay here, even if Belmont still wanted her—which he didn’t.

  She scrambled to her feet and lurched forward, gripping the low railing to keep from being pitched overboard as the craft tossed on the choppy waves. Huge drops pelted down on her, faster and faster, washing away the sheen of salt thrown up by the prow.

  Ahead of them a thin, silvery streak appeared briefly in the sky only to vanish the next moment. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the spot. “Did you see that?” she called over her shoulder.

  “What?” David leaned forward. “Is there something out there?”

  “I thought I saw—”

  The next streak of lightning obliterated the need for her explanation.

  “We did it!” David cried. “Marie! We’ll make it!”

  Riki gripped the rail, trembling. Lightning, all right. And she still hated it.

  The storm inched closer. The next fiery slash through the clouds would be accompanied by that rumbling roar of thunder that always left her ill. Damn old—and unquenchable—fears. And there it came. Riki huddled down in the boat, cursing herself, cursing the storm that she both needed and dreaded.

  It wasn’t close yet—she counted nearly ten seconds between the flash and that not-distant-enough sound. That meant more than a mile—almost two, really—yet to go.

  Clinging to the rail, Riki stared fixedly into the sky, waiting for the next vivid flash of electricity to slice through the night. Blackness surrounded them for several minutes then two jagged streaks lit the charcoal clouds, one right after the other. The savage drumming followed three seconds later.

  We’ll make it. Riki repeated that, over and over. They’d make it, and as soon as they did she’d move far away from her island to somewhere where she’d never again have to hear that dreaded sound. Somewhere that wouldn’t constantly remind her of Belmont and the love she’d managed to turn to hate.

  The clouds split with streaking light just to their right and thunder exploded about them. Riki cringed then forced herself to look up. The first fury of the rumble had barely faded when a second flash brought a renewed onslaught against her ears. Closer…

  The boat swerved as David tacked to compensate for the driving wind and current. Steadily they headed deeper and deeper into the heart of the storm. The thunder rumbled, unending. The flashes became constant jagged streaks of unharnessed electricity.

  Riki’s teeth clenched on her lip, controlling her fear by the merest thread. Then directly above them, the brilliant light flashed, and the entire boat glowed with bluish light.

  Marie’s scream echoed in her ears, becoming part of the rumbling thunder that reverberated through Riki. The eerie light danced up her arms from her hands, which gripped the rail. They had been hit!

  With a crackling hiss, flames shot up from the mast, licking at the sail, dancing along the yardarm.

  “We’re going to burn!” David yelled, stark terror in his voice.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Fire!” Marie cried, adding her voice once more to that of the storm. “David!”

  Fire? It can’t be! Riki stared at the flaming canvas in disbelief.

  Then reaction took over. Clinging tightly to the side, Riki eased her way back along it until she found the basket of food. Throwing the contents unceremoniously toward the cabin door, she turned to face the unanticipated danger.

  She leaned over the edge, scooped up water, and heaved it toward the burning sail. The next moment David was beside her, using a wooden bucket he must have found below. The beating rain helped, and soon only smoldering remnants of cloth remained.

  Riki dropped her basket, staring mutely up at the tattered wreck. “Did…did we go forward through time?”

  David stared at Ri
ki, both his pallor and the unsteadiness of his voice betraying his shock. “It wasn’t like this before.”

  Riki looked about, bewildered. The storm still raged and lightning flashed off to their right. She barely flinched as the thunder rumbled across the sky. “Nothing has changed,” she breathed. “Last time— I can’t remember what happened. I lost consciousness, I think.”

  “Me too.” David looked at her helplessly.

  “David?” Marie’s quavering voice interrupted them. “Where are we?”

  He turned and gathered her into his arms. “I don’t know.”

  “We’d better find out.” Riki looked back at the sail. “Do you think we can get anywhere using the mizzen if we try to rig it onto the mainmast?”

  They tried it, and it worked with a considerable bit of finagling. The smaller triangle of canvas had not been designed for the larger frame, but with extra line it stretched. David fastened off the last knot and Riki grabbed the tiller and steered them into the wind. Their sail caught and filled, driving them forward.

  “Which way?” she called.

  David shrugged. “If we could see the stars, we might be able to make a guess. That way?” He gestured to the port side, where France might conceivably lie unless they had been driven drastically off course.

  Steadily they inched away from the heart of the storm until the rumbles of thunder retreated in the distance. Rain continued to beat heavily down, adding to the puddle in the hull caused by the swamping waves. David and Marie turned their attention to bailing.

  Riki shivered in her drenched clothes but steadfastly ignored her discomfort. Straining her eyes, she stared ahead, trying, by the occasional flashes of lightning, to catch a glimpse of land. It was easier for her to see now, but only endless waves and thick clouds met her searching gaze. A soft glow lit the horizon. Dawn, she realized with amazement.