“You offered far more than a pillow and blanket. We both know that.” He let her loose then and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Another place, another time, I’d have gladly taken you to bed, and most likely would still be there. Enjoying the pleasures we’d find.”
“To bed?” The mortification he knew exactly what she’d wanted blazed through her, heating her cheeks faster than a roaring fire. An attempt at insult launched forward as her defense. “I offered no such thing.”
“Didn’t you?” He shook his head. “I recall things differently.”
“Then you are addlepated.”
He laughed and she spun around, marching down the center of the barn. “What was it you needed my assistance for?”
“Nothing,” he answered. “Other than to say I’m sorry.”
This time she turned around slowly. An apology was not what she’d expected. “For what?”
“For kissing you. For allowing you to think—”
“You have no idea what I think.” Frantic at the very idea he might, she continued, “And you should be sorry for kissing me. It was a barbaric way to behave.”
“Indeed,” he said with a nod and a grin.
The mockery in his eyes was what struck her the hardest. If she knew how to harvest and use her powers, she’d cast a spell to make him disappear into thin air, leaving behind nothing but dust. Her thought flipped at that moment, telling her she wouldn’t do that. She loved him. As unbelievable as that was, she cared as much about him as she did for Uncle William and Gracie. More in some ways, different ways. Witches weren’t supposed to love anyone but themselves.
Frustrated beyond all else, Marina stomped forward, toward the door. “I have things to see to.”
Once again he stopped her by taking her arm. “What I said earlier is imperative. We must travel light. Only the essentials. Oscar will help me retrieve the wagon tonight, but it’ll be late. Very late to ensure the village is asleep, and then we’ll need to travel fast.”
The seriousness of his eyes dulled the rapid beat of her pulse in one way but increased it in another. “When did you speak to Oscar?”
“This morning. He was in the woods behind the garden. The villagers believe the tale of his daughter and John’s mother arising from the dead. Panic is overtaking the community. Five more arrests were made yesterday.”
“Oh, dear heavens,” she whispered. “Who?”
“He didn’t say.”
Remorse filled her head with pain and she pressed at her temples. “This has to stop.”
“It shall,” Richard said.
Knowing her role, Marina nodded. “Yes, it shall.”
Richard’s hand cupped the side of her face, and a tremble encompassed her body. Not just from his touch, but from the vision forming behind her eyes. She saw herself going to him, her lips hot and demanding as they met his. The apparition was more real than others had been and full of emotions. She could feel the joy, the power of justice behind the kiss. It made little sense, for he wouldn’t be here when justice was served.
* * *
Richard fought the desire to pull her close, to once again feel the heat of her lips, taste the sweetness of her mouth. He’d spent most of the night berating himself for what he’d already done, and he couldn’t afford to waste any more energies on things that couldn’t be.
Dropping his hand, which instantly felt cold and instilled a bitter loneliness inside him, he said, “Oscar also said Hickman dispatched a rider to Boston yesterday.”
“The one we saw.”
“I assume so,” he said. “The rider was to deliver a message to the governor.” He didn’t add the message called for his arrest.
There was no surprise in her eyes, just as he hadn’t been surprised to hear the news.
“Has he returned yet?”
“No, not according to Oscar.” The rider was of little concern. It would take far more than an order from the governor to arrest him. Richard flayed a hand in the general direction of the barn stalls. “I’ll create a safe hiding spot for anything you can’t take with us tonight but wish to have retrieved at a later date.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Her tone held a potency he may have pondered if her eyes hadn’t looked so forlorn.
“Perhaps you’ll find something while packing today that will change your mind.”
She shook her head. “The house will be scavenged as soon as everyone’s gone. There will be nothing to retrieve.”
Chapter Sixteen
The day lingered with impotent slowness even though there was much to be done. William discovered things he wanted hid in the barn, and Richard pried up several boards along the back wall to secure a hiding spot for them. He was a bit taken aback by Marina’s willingness to comply with her uncle’s wishes. His nerves also grated against one another at her avoidance of him. He’d set his ground rules and had to abide by them. He not only had her future to contend with, but his own and Gracie’s.
His life now included a daughter, and that would impede upon his sailing days enough. He’d considered that last night, too. And how Grace was about the same age he’d been when Earl took him to the sea. Leaving her to be raised by an acquaintance at a seaport no longer appealed to him, not like it had upon his summons to retrieve her. Grace had been little more than a thought then, a problem he needed to solve. Now she was a flesh-and-blood person. His daughter, who had wheedled her way deep inside his heart. Something he did not regret.
The sun was falling behind the trees when he made another trip out to the barn, this time to complete the evening chores. He’d just finished milking the cow, a part of him wondering where he’d get fresh milk for Gracie while sailing, when a knock drew his attention to the side of the barn. Setting the milk bucket aside, he ventured out the back door and around the side.
Oscar Pullman stood near the corner of the building, peering across the road. Turning, the man whispered, “It’s gone.”
“What’s gone?” Richard questioned.
“John’s wagon. Along with his team of horses.”
Richard cursed beneath his breath. Getting everyone to safety without a wagon was impossible. He’d already considered a boat, but getting John through the swamp would be impossible. William wouldn’t be able to trek it, either. Richard had depended upon his strength many times but knew he couldn’t carry two men that far.
“The reverend’s slaves hitched up the team and loaded the wagon earlier today,” Oscar said.
“Slaves?”
Oscar nodded. “A black man and woman the reverend brought with him when he moved here. I suspect no one else was brave enough to enter the house, not with the rumors of the Goodwife Griggs coming back from the dead.”
The way Hickman had treated his slaves in Barbados made Richard wonder why some would still be with him, but it didn’t surprise him. The man relished being waited on hand and foot.
“Who else has a wagon?” Richard asked.
“No one we can trust,” Oscar said.
“I don’t need to trust them. I just need their wagon.”
“That’s the problem,” Oscar said. “The church has confiscated most of them. They are packed full of personal possessions and inside Hickman’s barn. He keeps the place locked tight.”
“What about the horses?”
“One of the church elders, Thomas Bolton, takes them out to his place. It’s several miles from town.”
Another idea was taking shape in Richard’s mind. “What about Hickman’s carriage? His horses?”
“They’re at his place, but ye can’t be considering...” Oscar’s eyes grew wide as his voice trailed away.
“It’s the only option. I have to get John to a doctor and the rest of them to the safety of my ship.” A chill rippled his spine. “Tonight. Tomorrow may be too late.”
The other man nodded. “I’ll be in the woods. Waiting to help.”
Richard gestured toward the barn. “After we’re gone, take the cow a
nd chickens and set my horse loose. It’s too slow to be any use, but will find the way back to its stable in Boston.” He turned around and made his way back into the barn through the back door. The weapons upon his ship came to mind, guns and cannons, cutlasses and daggers. All he had was the short blade in his boot. It had already come in handy but was hardly what he’d need if taken upon while stealing Hickman’s carriage. William had scrounged up what he had. A pair of rusty dueling pistols that weren’t worth cleaning.
He cursed everything about their predicament while making his way to the house.
Marina had supper on the table and the meal was a somber event. John was still in the front room, growing weaker by the hour. Even little Gracie seemed to sense the tension hanging in the air and ate with caution filling her eyes. That goaded Richard and increased his determination. As if he’d needed any more reason to want this all over.
“Get a few hours of sleep,” he said to no one in particular while pushing away from the table. “You’ll need it.”
He retreated to the front room to tie the last set of ropes he’d secure after taking care of the night watchman later.
The house had gone quiet except for a clink or clatter coming from the kitchen. Marina had carried Grace upstairs earlier and he wondered what she was doing now. Against his better judgment, he went to see.
She was sweeping the floor. He leaned a hand against the door frame. “Is that necessary?”
“What?”
“Cleaning? The house will soon be empty.”
“I will not have the scavengers believing we lived in a hovel.”
He laughed. Perhaps she wasn’t that different from other women. Gesturing toward the single bundle near the back door, he asked, “Is that everything you’re taking?”
“Yes. Gracie’s clothes. Enough until more can be purchased.”
“Thank you. I do appreciate all you’ve done for her.”
“Getting John to a doctor and William to the sea will more than repay what I’ve done for Gracie.”
Her tone once again tickled his brain, but they were all on edge, anxious for this night to be over. Things weren’t settled between them, either, but there was no settling to be done. Marina had no future with him. Not the one she deserved.
“You should get some rest. I’ll be leaving in a few hours.”
Her eyes glowed in the candlelight and held more thoughtfulness than he had the ability to perceive at this moment. His loins were tightening, growing hot with desires and thoughts of what could have been. Fighting them would take energy he’d need later, so he left the room.
He stationed himself in the front room, in William’s usual chair, where he could hear any movement outside through the slightly open window. The day had been warm, and the house held that heat long after the sun fell. Sweat beaded upon his brows and increased as Marina entered the room. Without a word, she checked on John and then climbed the stairs.
Richard rested his eyes for a short time, using the quiet to pick apart his plan, making sure he hadn’t left out a single detail. When the hour came, time to set things in motion, he stood and, after donning his black tunics, gathered the things he’d need.
Before leaving the house, he awoke William. “I’ll be back in an hour. See everyone is ready.”
“Aye, Captain,” the man answered, rolling to the edge of his bed to secure his wooden leg.
Using William’s window again, Richard left the house. He used the same pathway he and Marina had last night, to the garden and then into the woods. There was no amusement filling him, not like last night when Marina’s enjoyment of slipping around in the dark had made her face shimmer in the moonlight. He shouldn’t miss her companionship, but he did.
Cautious to not make a sound, he made his way through the woods and across the road. He left one rope near the road and picked up a couple of rocks before proceeding toward the sentry. There had been a change in guards shortly after sunset, leaving him to assume this man was alert, listening and watching for anything out of the ordinary.
A smile touched Richard’s lips. Things were certainly about to get unordinary.
Surprise was always the best tactic, and he relished the upcoming attack as he sneaked forward. The watchman was on the ground, leaning against a tree. Richard tossed a rock into the hedge and watched as the man stiffened and then straightened to peer toward the bushes.
Richard tossed another rock, and then he opened the pouch hanging from the belt of his tunic to withdraw the tankard full of the ashes he’d mixed with spices from Marina’s kitchen. The watchman had climbed to his feet but stood still, as if waiting for the noise to happen again.
With a roar that sounded beastly even to his ears, Richard jumped to his feet and rushed forward.
The watchman spun around. “Who goes there?”
Richard tossed the ashes directly in the man’s face. “It is I,” he growled. “The devil who has come to reward you for your deeds.”
The man stumbled backward, rubbing his eyes with both hands. “Reward?” he screeched. “I have done no wrong.”
“Aye,” Richard replied. “You have already aligned yourself with Satan.”
“No. No. Not me.” The man fell to his knees. “My eyes. They are burning. I cannot see.”
“Because no one is allowed to see me.” Richard tugged out a length of cloth he’d tucked into his belt and used it to gag the man. Then he dropped a bag over the man’s head and tied it with a rope around his neck. Next, he pulled the man to his feet and planted him upright against a tree, where he secured him to the trunk with several lengths of rope.
The man’s muffled cries had grown into whimpers by the time he was done. Before leaving, he whispered close to the man’s ears, “George Hickman made a pact with Satan years ago, and anyone who aligns himself with the man shall rot in hell at his side.” He then let out a mocking laugh at the man’s increased whimpers before moving on.
It took little time to set all of the snare lines for the dummies and to tie up the final rope, which he left lying across the road. Richard then entered the woods for the trail that led to Oscar’s place and on into the village.
From the bedroom window, Marina saw the dark figure enter the woods. As her heart tightened so severely she feared it might strangle her, she sent up a silent prayer, asking God to protect Richard. She wasn’t certain that was appropriate, considering he was on his way to steal a wagon. It was John’s wagon, she then justified, and he needed a doctor.
Everything was set for Richard’s return, so there wasn’t much for her to do other than carry the sleeping Grace down to William’s bed. They would need Richard’s help in getting John out the door, so she left him sleeping in the front room.
“He’ll be here shortly,” Uncle William said as the two of them stood in the kitchen, not doing anything except moving to glance out the window now and again.
“You have your gold,” she said in half question, half statement.
“Yes. No worries, girl. We have plenty to start over.”
She blinked at the tears forming. Enough tears had flowed upstairs, where her heart had filled with such pain it must have finally broken in two, leaving her numb. It was time to tell him. “I’m not leaving.”
“Not leaving? Yes, you are. Richard will be here—”
“I can’t leave.” She lifted her shoulders and let them fall, feeling rather hopeless. “Not when I’m the reason this all started.”
Uncle William let out a line of curses that were as much a part of his sailing days as his wooden leg. “I’ll hear no such thing,” he shouted afterward. “You had no part in it.”
“You know that’s not true. You know the accusations didn’t start until Hickman heard about what happened to me in Maine.”
“Only because he was trying to get rid of me. He knew I remembered him from my sailing days.”
She shook her head. That had been her uncle’s response since the beginning. “There’s no sense denying it, Uncle Wi
lliam. I’m a witch. Captain Farleigh sat in this very kitchen and told you what happened.”
“You were dropped from the loft onto your noggin.”
“There are things I can’t explain to you.” Tears fell onto her cheeks. “I wish I could, but I can’t. I don’t even understand them, but I know all those people in jail, all those people being murdered, are because of me. I have to put a stop to it.”
He stomped across the room and had her by the shoulders. “Put a stop to it? How? I’ve told you before I won’t let you be arrested. I won’t—”
The back door flew open. “Hurry! Into the carriage!” Richard ran through the room and up the hall.
“Grab the bundle by the door,” Marina said, running herself. “I’ll get Gracie.”
With the child in her arms, she paused at the door while Richard rushed past carrying John, and then she followed him. Oscar Pullman was holding the reins of a team of horses, but they weren’t hitched to John’s wagon.
“You stole Hickman’s carriage?” she asked.
Richard set John on one of the seats before turning to take Gracie. “It was all I could find.” After handing Gracie to William, he reached for Marina.
She stepped back and shook her head.
He waved a hand. “Climb in.”
“I’m not going.”
Shock briefly covered his face before his eyes narrowed. “Yes, you are.”
He launched forward, but she’d been prepared for that and leaped in the other direction. His hand had brushed her arm, so she spun and ran. Passing the carriage door, she slammed it shut, and then, although it was dangerous, she ducked beneath the harness rails and came out on the other side. She knew he’d never fit between the horses and carriage.
He ran around the front of the horses, while she ran around the back of the carriage. “Bloody hell, woman! Get in the carriage!”
“No! Someone has to make sure you aren’t followed.”
“Oscar will do that!”
“Captain!” Oscar yelled. “I hear horses!”
They each rounded the carriage again, and Marina’s heart stopped. “Go,” she said to Richard over the horses. “Please, go. I have to stay. These are the people my father told me to save.”
Saving Marina Page 19
