Not Always a Saint

by Mary Jo Putney

  “Alas, no. But there is another way out.” He was eyeing the window with its heavy metal bars.

  “Escaping through the window would be worse than the door!” she exclaimed, appalled. “Even if we could get through those bars, there’s a cliff out there! With rocks and raging seas at the bottom!”

  “The bars are solid,” he agreed. “But the wooden frame they’re set in is quietly rotting away from time and damp.”

  He pulled a folding knife from his pocket and started digging at the frame. Sizable chunks of wood dropped to the floor. “We’re more than halfway down the cliff here. Remember how when we were on the beach, I mentioned that a ridge of rocks around the base of the headland looked almost like a crude path? My guess is that the pirates or smugglers who used these tunnels augmented the natural rockfall to create an escape route to the Romayne beach, where they could safely bring a boat in.”

  She thought of the cliff, the rocks, the waves, the risk of broken bones and drowning—and squared her shoulders. “What can I do?”

  He paused in flaking the wooden frame and reached inside his coat to withdraw a flat canvas packet half a dozen inches square and about a half inch thick. He unfolded it and pulled out a small pair of scissors. “Start cutting those blankets into strips. The fabric is heavy enough to tie into a crude rope that we can use to get down to that pathway.”

  Bemused, she took the scissors. “You carry a medical kit around with you?”

  He nodded and turned back to the window. “I’ve needle and thread and basic bandages and a few other useful things. One never knows when a little surgical work will be required.”

  “You amaze me,” she said as she pulled the blankets from the corner. They were dirty and the edges were frayed, but the material was sturdy. If cut in wide strips, it should be strong enough to support a person’s weight. At least, she hoped so. She cut, ripped, then did it again.

  It didn’t take long to reduce the blankets to broad strips. Jessie asked, “Are you good at knots?”

  “I can tie the sort that won’t slip,” he assured her. “Just a moment.”

  Muscles straining, Daniel wrenched at the iron bars. He staggered back a step when the crumbling wood surrendered and the welded unit of metal bars came away in his hands, but caught his balance quickly. “Done!”

  When removed from the window, the bars and their frame formed a heavy metal grate. As he leaned the grate against the wall, Jessie said, “That was quick!”

  “The wood was very bad,” he explained. “Your husband isn’t a very good plotter.”

  She bit her lip to keep from swearing that Ivo wasn’t her husband. Unfortunately, in the eyes of the law he was.

  She moved to the open window and looked out. The drop was sheer and the waves hitting the cliff sprayed high in the air. But there was indeed a very rugged-looking ledge running along the base of the cliff a few feet above the current water level.

  She judged the size of the window. “I’m small enough to get out, but can you get your shoulders through?”

  “I’ll have to go through at an angle, but it can be done.”

  She looked down again. “We need more rope. I’ll cut up my cloak. It’s also heavy fabric and it will give us more length.”

  “Good idea.” He began knotting strips of blanket together. He tugged each knot after it was tied, then continued. By the time he finished tying the blanket strips, her lovely burgundy woolen cloak, which she’d worn only twice, was sliced and ready for knotting.

  Daniel tied on the pieces of cloak, then tossed her both ends. “Pull as hard as you can while I pull from the middle.”

  The cell had just enough diagonal length for them to test their improvised rope. “No point in waiting,” Daniel said. “Are you ready? I’ll lower you down. I think we have just about enough rope to make a loop at one end for you to set your feet in.” He tied in the foot loop as he talked.

  Jessie peered out the window again, feeling dizzy. The distance seemed twice as far as it had earlier. For an instant, she wondered if it would be wiser to wait for Ivo to return and let him scream off his insults.

  No. He was too unpredictable. If he was armed and turned violent, heaven help them. She might deserve to pay for her sins, but Daniel didn’t.

  She moistened her dry lips. “I’m ready.”

  Daniel tied one end of the rope to the metal grate, then knotted a loop on the other end. “The grate will make an anchor when I go down. First put your right foot in the loop. I’ll lift you onto the sill with your feet outside and hold the rope while you slide out and get a firm grip and both feet in the loop. That should keep you secure as I lower you down. Can you manage?”

  Reminding herself that her task was easier than his, she said with as much firmness as she could manage, “I can.”

  He caught her gaze, his changeable eyes as steely gray as the waves below. “Jessie,” he said quietly. “I won’t let you fall.”

  “I know you won’t.” She wrenched her gaze away, not wanting him to see her fear. She knew he wouldn’t let her fall. She would trust Daniel with anything. But she still felt the chilly distance that Ivo had caused between them.

  Daniel wasn’t her husband. He was more than that.

  Jessie stood on her toes to brush a swift kiss on his lips. “Whatever happens,” she whispered, “know that I love you.”

  Then she ducked her head and put her right foot into the fabric loop of their improvised rope. Wordlessly Daniel lifted her and threaded her into the window with her feet outside. She slid her left foot into the loop as well. A good thing she’d worn sturdy half boots for their morning walk.

  “When you’re ready, slide out and turn around. You can hang on to the sill until you have a firm grip on the rope. All set? You can do this. It will be over in just a couple of minutes.”

  Suppressing her terror, she nodded and eased herself out the window and into the abyss.

  Chapter 33

  Daniel kept a strong arm around Jessie until she was dangling over the lethal rocks, her hands locked on the rope in a death grip. No, a life grip. She swallowed hard and tightened her hold until her fingers whitened.

  “Here you go,” Daniel said, his voice as calm as if he was passing her a cheese plate. “If you want me to slow down or stop, just shout.”

  Beyond words, she nodded, and he began to pay out the rope. He’d wrapped it around his body so the operation was as secure as humanly possible, but she knew the journey down would live in her nightmares till the day she died. She was sweating despite the cold wind that buffeted and spun her around, sometimes banging her into the rough cliff face.

  As she descended, flying spray from the waves spattered icy water over her, growing heavier the closer she came to the rocky ledge that offered a tenuous safety. Dizzily she watched the shiny wet rocks grow nearer and nearer. When she touched down, she promptly slipped and fell because of the slipperiness of the wet rocks, but her grip on the rope spared her from hitting hard.

  Heart pounding with relief, she looked up and waved at Daniel high above. Swiftly he pulled up the rope, then lowered it again with his coat and shirt tied to the end. They hadn’t discussed that, but she realized he was reducing the width of his shoulders as much as possible. A half inch might make the difference between success and failure.

  She removed the garments and waved again. She wanted to call good luck, but he probably couldn’t hear her over the sound of the crashing surf. He returned her wave before disappearing for a moment.

  Then his feet appeared and he began carefully maneuvering his way out the square stone opening, which now looked far too small. Sickly she realized how much more treacherous his exit was than hers. Not only would he probably be scraping skin to get out, but at the same time he had to maneuver the square metal grate to an angle where it would lock behind the window opening and anchor his descent. If he positioned the grate badly, it would fly through the open square and he’d crash down the cliff.

  For the first
time since she was a very young child, she prayed. If anyone deserves your help, God, it’s Daniel! Please, please, please . . . !

  Abruptly his torso and shoulders emerged and he was outside, hanging safely from the rope. She began to breathe again.

  He came down much more swiftly than she had. There was blood on the shoulder she could see, but it was fascinating to watch the powerful play of the muscles in his arms and back as he descended hand over hand. He truly was beautiful. Her hero if not her husband. And she really was a wicked woman to think of such a thing under these circumstances!

  He even managed to avoid slipping on the wet stones when he reached the bottom. Not caring how disgusted he might be at all the trouble she’d caused, she threw her arms around him and shook, as she’d wanted to do earlier. “Thank God you got down safely!” she breathed, her eyes squeezed shut against her tears of relief.

  “I think He does deserve much of the credit,” Daniel agreed. He patted her on the back as if she were a friendly puppy, then pulled away and reached for his shirt, which she’d put as far from the spray as possible.

  As she’d guessed, his shoulders, the broadest part of his body, were scraped raw and were bleeding, but he’d managed to escape. The hardest part was over. At least, she hoped it was.

  He pulled the shirt over his head, which made the view less interesting but would help warm him. As he donned his coat, he said, “You’re afraid of heights, aren’t you? That makes what you did even braver.”

  She smiled ruefully. “Before today, heights only bothered me a little. Now they terrify me!”

  “Yet once again, you did what was needed.” His smile was friendly rather than intimate.

  She’d worry about that later. “I’m not sure how far we have to go around the headland, but if we make good speed, we should be safe on the beach well before it gets dark. Then we call the magistrate!”

  “It’s possible that Trevane is the magistrate, but something must be done about the man. Your attacking him in Bristol the night you ran away was self-defense, but his kidnapping us for his private revenge is a long way outside the law.” Daniel studied the rough path they’d have to follow. “The incoming tide is coming in fast and will cover some of this path soon, so it’s time we got moving.”

  She turned and started walking, her right hand skimming the cliff face for balance as she picked her way through the uneven tangle of stones. Some had very sharp edges and her feet slipped into crevasses too often. Grimly she carried on, moving as quickly as she could.

  About fifty feet along, the path curved to reveal a sea cave to her right. It hadn’t been visible from above, but it was sizable. Higher than a man’s head, it disappeared into darkness inside the cliff.

  She was about to mention it to Daniel when a howl of fury rang out from behind them. Startled, she turned back around the corner and rejoined Daniel, who was staring up at their former cell.

  Ivo Trevane leaned out the window, his expression enraged. “Damn you, damn you, damn you! You’ll not get away from me this easily!”

  “He called that easily?” Daniel said with dry humor.

  “He really isn’t a very good plotter, is he?” Jessie shivered. “Time to move out before he joins us for more threats and intimidation.”

  She wanted to run but didn’t dare do so on the dangerous surface. She was at the corner again when she heard a cry of terror.

  Jessie jerked around and saw that Ivo had emerged from the window to follow them down. His shoulders must be narrower than Daniel’s. But in his haste, he hadn’t taken time to place the grate solidly inside the window opening. Now he was looking up as the heavy metal rectangle scraped and twisted inside the cell.

  As she watched, appalled, the grate tumbled out the window with shocking suddenness. Ivo dropped like a stone, and his harrowing scream was another horror that would haunt Jessie’s nightmares.

  His scream ended abruptly as he hit the narrow path. The falling grate clanged down next to him, then bounced into the sea.

  Swearing, Daniel took off toward Ivo. Jessie wanted to run the other way until she was home and could bury her head under a pillow. But after an instant, she followed Daniel.

  He was already kneeling beside Ivo, who amazingly had survived the fall. Blood was gushing from a long gash on his upper arm. He must have hit a sharp-edged rock. His skull was also bleeding on the same side and his lower left ankle was twisted badly, either sprained or broken.

  As Jessie reached him, his eyes fluttered open. “You win, bitch,” he breathed hoarsely. “You can leave me here to die and walk away with everything, a real widow this time. You can keep Lord Fancy Pants if you want him. Instead of you dying for your sins, I’m dying for them.”

  “You are an amazingly unpleasant man, Ivo Trevane,” Daniel said in a pleasant voice as he stripped off his cravat. “But don’t count on dying yet.”

  Swiftly he tore the cravat in half and tied one half above the massively bleeding gash in Ivo’s arm. Then he pulled a pencil from inside his coat and slid it under the bandage. As he twisted the pencil to tighten the ring of fabric, Jessie realized it was a tourniquet. She’d heard of them but had never seen one.

  As the blood flow from the arm slowed to almost nothing, Daniel frowned at the damaged ankle. “With luck, your boot spared you a broken ankle, but I’m guessing there’s a bad sprain. I’ll have to cut your boot off.”

  An incoming wave splashed over all three of them. Jessie wondered how close it was to high tide. “Just around that corner, there’s a sea cave. It was higher than here and went back into the cliff and there were pieces of driftwood tossed inside.”

  “That sounds like a major improvement from here.” Daniel stood. “Jessie, if I take his shoulders, can you manage his legs?”

  “Very well,” she said without enthusiasm.

  “This will hurt, I’m afraid,” Daniel said as he levered Ivo into a sitting position and slid his arms around from the back.

  Jessie picked up Ivo’s feet. Despite her care, jostling his injured leg caused him to give an agonized cry before he clenched his teeth to cut off the sound.

  The next few minutes counted as among the worst of a very bad day. Jessie was moving backward on a wet, stony surface that was treacherous even if she had been moving forward and not carrying anything.

  But after a very long quarter hour, they managed to get Ivo to the relative shelter of the cave. A patch of sand was a dozen feet inside, so they set him down there.

  Jessie folded onto the sand, gasping for breath while Daniel immediately set to work, loosening the tourniquet cautiously. Since the wound was no longer gushing blood, he cut away Ivo’s sleeve and wrapped the arm with a bandage improvised from Daniel’s wrecked cravat and Ivo’s sleeve. “That should be enough pressure to stop you from hemorrhaging without destroying your arm.”

  “You seem to know what you’re doing,” Ivo said grudgingly.

  “Because I’m a doctor and I patch up fools all the time,” Daniel explained. “I’m going to examine your ankle now. Hope that it’s a sprain rather than a break.”

  “If this is a sprain, I bloody well don’t want to find out what a break feels like,” Ivo muttered before gasping with pain again as Daniel cut off the expensive boot and probed the injured ankle.

  “Romayne, why didn’t you just leave me there to die,” he asked gruffly. “Would have made your life much simpler, and you’d get to keep her, at least until she runs off again. If you’re lucky, she might not try to murder you before she leaves.”

  “Leaving people to die isn’t what I do,” Daniel said shortly. “And I suggest that you stop being so insulting about the lady given that I’m patching up your broken body and the process could be a good deal more painful than it is now.”

  “Lady!” Ivo spat, but he subsided under Daniel’s cold stare.

  “Jessie, could you take off Trevane’s cravat? I need it to bind his ankle.”

  Not anxious to touch Ivo again, Jessie said, “I can
tear fabric from my shift.”

  “Trevane started all this, so he can sacrifice his cravat,” Daniel said dryly. “It will work better, too.”

  Reluctantly Jessie knelt by Ivo and untied the cravat, then began to unwind the narrow length of linen. He watched her through angry, slit eyes, but didn’t say anything. Once it was off, she’d have to confront the scar of the near-lethal stab wound she’d given him, which would be still another bad thing on a very bad day.

  She removed the last winding of fabric, exposing the base of his throat—and there was no scar visible. She bent over to see better. A scattering of dark hair, but no trace of scarring. Surely a wound like that would scar?

  Struck by an impossible thought, she ripped his shirt down to his waist and looked at the rib area of his lower right side. Another expanse of smooth, unmarked skin.

  “Damn you!” she gasped, caught between incredulity and fury. “You aren’t Ivo!”

  Chapter 34

  Daniel jerked his head up. “This man isn’t Ivo Trevane?”

  “I most certainly am!” Trevane said indignantly. “I have a birth certificate at home that will attest to it.”

  “Well, you certainly aren’t the Ivo Trevane I married!” Jessie hissed. “My husband would have had a scar on his throat where I stabbed him.” Her finger traced the place. “Nothing! And you don’t have a mole here, the way he did.” She touched the spot on his bare ribs. “Who are you? My husband’s twin brother?”

  Trevane started to protest, then exhaled wearily in a resigned sigh. “Brother, but not a twin. I was two years older. We looked so much alike that we were mistaken for twins.”

  “If you really are Ivo Trevane, what was my husband’s name?” Jessie’s gaze was burning a hole in Trevane’s hide.

  “Rupert Ivo Trevane. Half the male Trevanes in Dorset have Ivo somewhere in their names. He didn’t like the name Rupert, so he often used Ivo when I wasn’t around to confuse the issue.” Trevane’s voice had changed, losing the gruffness and sounding more educated.