"You—how did you—"
"I returned to New Orleans to discover you'd already left for England on The Blue Elephant," he said quietly. "My heart was broken, of course, and I vowed I'd go to England after you and tear you out of Hawke's arms and take you away with me, but things kept coming up. There was a job I had to finish, then another one. Three weeks ago I ran into your friend Will Hart in a rather sordid establishment in New Orleans. I lugged him out into an alley. He had some interesting things to tell me."
"He—"
"I know, lass. He told me everything. He was in considerable pain as he did so, I might add. I'm afraid I broke his arm before I finally got the whole story out of him—tore it right out of its socket, I fear, just like you might tear a drumstick off a roast chicken."
I shuddered. The muscles of his right arm grew tauter, drawing me closer to him.
"I finished him off, of course, took a great deal of pleasure in crushing his windpipe with my forearm. I dumped him behind a pile of garbage, and then I gathered up the best men I could find. One of 'em owns a small ship, no bigger than a tug, really. It's anchored three miles down the coast, in a secret cove. We rowed the rest of the way to the island. The boats are waiting down on the beach for our return to the ship."
I straightened up, letting go of his shoulders. He released me and moved back a step or two. I was composed now, even though my heart still seemed to leap, even though it all still seemed like a dream. I took several deep breaths, and when I spoke my voice was surprisingly level.
"How did you know I would be on the island? How did you know I wouldn't be in some squalid crib in Caracas?"
"I knew Red Nick wouldn't let a beauty like you get away, lass. I knew he'd appropriate you for himself. Are you steady now? Able to function without falling to pieces?"
"I'm all right," I replied.
"Sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Good. We don't have a lot of time. I've got to plant explosives in the armory—you're going to have to show me where it is—and then we've got to hightail it down to the beach. My men'll meet us there, and we'll be on our way."
I could feel the cool night air on my bare shoulders and arms, but I was no longer shivering. I paid no attention to the cold. Only a few moments ago I had been as low as I had ever been in my life, had given up all hope, weak, finally defeated, and now I felt strength and resolution charging through me like new sap. I was renewed, revitalized, filled with a fierce determination and eager for action.
"There's a guard," I said, "and the armory's attached to the barracks. There's a side door, but it's locked."
"I'll take care of the guard."
"And the lock?"
"I'll pry it off."
"And make such a racket every man in the barracks will be down on you, no doubt. I'll unlock it for you."
"How're you going to do that?" he asked.
"Wait and see. I'll have to go back inside the house, and I'll have to stop by one of the cottages."
"I'm not letting you out of my sight, lass."
"I'll do it while you're setting up your explosives," I continued, ignoring his remark. "You needn't worry about Red Nick. He's down at one of the canteens. There are two other women who're going with us. A girl, Corrie, and Em, a friend of mine."
"I guess we can manage two more," he said amiably.
"And I'll have to change. I can't go tearing through the night in bronze satin."
"You'll have to be quick about it, lass."
"And there're my jewels."
"Jewels?"
"I'm not leaving the island without them," I said firmly.
"Ah," he said, chuckling, "you are feeling better. The old spirit's returning. Sure Red Nick's not going to pop in on you while you're changing your gown and restyling your hair?"
"There's no one in the house besides the servants."
"All right then, but first the armory. Just let me fetch the explosives. I hid 'em behind a tree. We'll meet back here. There's a rope hanging over the side of the wall. I climbed up it, swung into a tree, dropped to the ground. When I saw you strolling about, I couldn't believe my luck."
"Get your explosives," I told him. My voice was impatient.
Jeremy Bond chuckled again and hurried into the shadows, returning a moment later with a bulky package wrapped in oilskin. I led him through the gardens and around the side of the house, keeping in the shadows as much as possible. As we cleared the side of the house, the moon came from behind a bank of clouds, silvering the lawns. I took Jeremy Bond's hand and led him quickly across a patch of bright silver to the protective darkness beneath a tree. We paused for a moment, then dashed toward another tree, the fringe on his buckskin jacket flying. I saw the guard pacing near the gates. The windows of the barracks were open, pools of yellow light spilling out.
"How many men in there?" he asked.
"Twenty or so," I replied.
"Christ!"
"They're gambling and drinking rum. If you're quiet about it, they won't hear you. The guard's out of sight now. Come on."
We passed Em's cottage and soon were hidden by the shrubberies growing near the armory, the same shrubberies under which Em and I had hidden the guns and ammunition we had stolen. As I led him cautiously toward the side door, I could hear rough voices and hearty laughter as the men in the barracks played cards and consumed their rum. Jeremy Bond shook his head in despair when he saw the lock on the door. I shoved him out of the way and removed a hairpin.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" he whispered as I set to work.
"On a prison ship. I'm quite expert at it. Damn! This one's difficult. I don't know if the pin is going to reach—there, I can feel it giving, Just another minute—"
"You're amazing, lass."
"Shut up, you're breaking my concentration."
"Lippy, too. I come all this way to rescue you from a fate worse than death, and you tell me to shut up. You and I are going to fight a lot during years to come, lass."
"There!" I opened the door.
"Amazing," he repeated.
"Do whatever you plan to do with your explosives, Mr. Bond. Em and Corrie and I will meet you in back of the house in fifteen minutes. And—and please be careful. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."
"You do care. I knew it."
"I just want to get off this bloody island," I said dryly.
Jeremy Bond smiled and flung an arm around the back of my neck and kissed me quite suddenly, quite thoroughly. He was outrageous, utterly outrageous, jaunty and devil-may-care in the face of grave danger, refusing to be serious even when his life was at stake, taking the time to kiss me when every minute counted, kissing me with robust energy.
"There'll be more later," he promised, releasing me. "You be careful, Marietta. I'd like to get out of this without getting myself bruised up. Hate to fight. Prefer to sneak around in the dark."
He patted my cheek and stepped nimbly into the dark armory. I moved back behind the shrubberies, listening for the guard. When I heard him pacing heavily on the other side of the stockade, I hurried back to Em's cottage, keeping to the shadows. The front door was unlocked, a light burning in the sitting room. I stepped into the foyer. My heart was beating rapidly, I was out of breath. I paused for a moment, pulling myself together, then moved into the small sitting room.
Em was standing in front of the mantle, still wearing the elaborate purple brocade gown embroidered with silver flowers. There was a glass of brandy in her hand, and in her eyes there was a lost look, a look of total dejection, total defeat. She had taken off the diamonds and amethysts. They were scattered carelessly over the top of a small table in front of the pale blue sofa, shimmering in the candlelight.
"Get your things together," I said briskly.
"Lord, luv, what's the matter?"
"We're leaving."
A wry smile curled on her lips. "It must be the wine, luv. You drank an awful lot of it. Your cheeks are flushed bright pink. Your eyes—your eyes
are like frozen blue fire."
"We're leaving the island, Em. We're leaving tonight."
"Red Nick wouldn't like that, I'm afraid. Neither would Draper. I'm expecting him any moment now. I really don't think it's a wise idea, your being here at this particular time."
"Em! Didn't you hear me? We're leaving. We don't have much time. Jeremy Bond and his men have come for us. He's planting explosives in the armory at this very moment, and they've put explosives in all the ships and warehouses. Everything's going to blow in a matter of minutes."
"My God!"
"I was strolling in the gardens. He dropped out of a tree and seized me and—I really don't have time to explain. We have maybe twelve minutes. I told him we'd meet him in back of the gardens."
"You—you're not drunk?"
"It's true, Em."
"Jesus," she said. She swallowed the rest of the brandy, set the glass down and hurriedly began to scoop up the jewelry. "I'll be there, luv. I've just got to get the rest of my jewelry ancf—and a few other things. Do I have time to change? Twelve minutes. I can do it. Corrie? What about—"
"I'm going to get her right now. Ten minutes. Em. Make it ten minutes. Meet us in the gardens behind the house in ten minutes, no later,"
She nodded, curls spilling over her cheeks. She grabbed a tiny snuff box of solid gold set with pink and blue enamel, hesitated before a pair of silver candlesticks and then rushed out of the room. I hurried back outside and ran toward the house, bronze skirts billowing, whipping in the breeze. I was out of breath again as I entered the house, so excited I could hardly think. Calm, I told myself. You must be calm. You mustn't alarm Corrie. We've got a full ten minutes. There's so much to do. Ten minutes. Plenty of time if you don't allow yourself to panic. I moved up the stairs and stepped into the bedroom. Corrid was still sewing.
"Miz Marietta! You startled me. You look upset."
"Put down your sewing, Corrie. I want you to listen to me very carefully. We're leaving the island tonight. Some men have come to take us away. Don't ask me any questions. I want you to go down to your room and get your other dress and your cloak and then come back up here."
Corrie put her sewing aside and stood up, perfectly calm, as though she had been expecting this. Leaving scissors, sewing box, and thimble on the table, leaving the blue and silver gown on the floor, she moved quickly and silently out of the room. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment and then stepped over to the wardrobe, pushing aside gowns and reaching behind rows of shoes to retrieve the white cotton bag I had hidden there. Corrie had made it for me. It had straps like an apron, and I had worn it tied around my waist, filled with jewelry, when we had attempted our escape.
Forcing myself to remain calm, I took down a fine white cotton petticoat, skirts awhirl with ruffles, and then took down the simplest and sturdiest gown I had, thin tan linen with narrow brown and rust stripes. I carried the garments over to the dressing table and draped them over the stool and opened the jewelry box, dumping its contents into the bag. I set it aside and undressed, dropping bronze gown and leaf-brown petticoats to the floor, kicking them aside as I strapped the bag around my waist, letting its weight rest against the side of my left thigh. My hands trembled slightly as I tightened the knot, securing it firmly.
I put on the white cotton petticoat, smoothed the snug bodice down, and then put on the gown. It had short, narrow sleeves and a low, scooped neckline that revealed the swell of my breasts. The waist was tight, the skirt extremely full. It wasn't the ideal garment, no, but it was better than satin or velvet. I fastened the tiny hooks in back and ran my hands along my sides, adjusting the fit.
As I moved back over to the wardrobe to take down the tan linen cloak lined with rust-colored silk that went with the gown, I thought about Jeremy Bond and the extreme danger he was in as he moved about in the dark armory, placing those explosives he carried wrapped up in oilskin. What if he stumbled in the dark and knocked over a rack of guns? The clatter would alert the men in the barracks immediately, and they'd be upon him in a matter of seconds. What if he fumbled with the explosives and tailed to set them up properly and they went off?
I forced the thoughts out of my mind and fastened the cloak around my shoulders. For all his jaunty, irreverent manner, Jeremy Bond was extremely capable, a professional mercenary who was apparently one of the best. He wasn't going to knock over a rack of guns. He wasn't going to blow himself up by accident. He would do his job quickly and efficiently and hurry back to the gardens to help us over the wall and down to the beach where the boats were waiting. So much had happened, so quickly I still found it hard to believe that he was actually here, that escape was at hand,
Corrie should be returning any minute now. I glanced around the room, trying to organize my thoughts. I had the jewelry. I had changed. I had put on my cloak. There was still three or four minutes. What else did I need? Clothes. Perhaps I should grab a couple of other dresses. An extra pair of shoes as well. I could make a bundle of them. I took down a long blue cloak and spread it out on the floor, then returned to select the gowns, ail so very sumptuous, cloth of gold, silver lace, deep garnet velvet, fine for the kept woman of a pirate chief but totally unsuitable for my present purposes. I finally selected a heavy blue silk and a golden yellow brocade. They were much too elegant, but they would have to do. I folded them up and put them on the cloak.
Shoes. I scanned the rows of them lined up on the bottom of the wardrobe. They were all so fancy. Satin slippers. High heels. Shoes with gem-encrusted buckles. My mind seemed to whirl. I could feel panic building, I snatched up a pair of dark blue leather slippers and tossed them on top of the gowns, then grabbed hairbrush and comb and added them to the pile, I kneeled down and began to bundle the things up, folding the heavy blue cloak over gowns and shoes, hairbrush, and comb. It was a shame I couldn't take the makeup case, I reflected, but ii would make the bundle far too bulky.
Using the long blue ribbons meant to fasten the cloak under the chin, I tied the bundle up and placed it on the dressing stool, glancing anxiously at the clock. Eight minutes had passed since I first entered the room. I had moved fast indeed and, once again, was slightly out of breath. My nerves were beginning to jangle. Where was Corrie? What was keeping her? She should have returned by this time. Hearing footsteps in the hallway, I gave a sigh of relief and began to adjust the folds of the tan cloak over my shoulders, looking into the mirror as I did so.
"We must hurry," I said as I heard her enter,
"Indeed?" Nicholas Lyon inquired.
I whirled around. I could feel the color leaving my cheeks. He stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the door frame, the other thrust casually into the pocket of his maroon satin breeches. The maroon frock coat embroidered with black silk fleurs-de-lis hung open, revealing the fine white lawn shirt beneath. Frothy white lace ruffles cascaded from his throat and from beneath the cuffs of his coat. Those piercing blue eyes took in my change of clothes, the bundle on the dressing stool, the opened wardrobe doors. He slowly arched one brow, chin lowered, the heavy red-brown wave slanting over his forehead.
"It seems you were expecting someone else," he observed.
My throat was tight, constricted. I tried to speak. I couldn't. I felt a terrible sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, and my pulse seemed to leap wildly just once and then vanish completely. My eyes must have reflected my alarm, for his thin lips slowly curled in a mocking smile. I wondered if my heart was going to fail me, if I was going to pitch forward to the floor.
"Going somewhere?" he asked.
I managed to nod, desperately trying to fight back the alarm.
"In a fit of pique, no doubt. My little flirtation with Pepita must have upset you."
"I—I thought you'd be gone—much longer."
"Obviously. Did you actually think I'd sleep with that coarse little harlot? I gave her some more rum, let her chatter on for a while, and then dumped a few gold coins down the front of her blouse."
He removed his hand from the door frame and folded his arms across his chest, his chin still tilted. He was enjoying himself immensely, enjoying my panic, my fear. I swallowed and passed a hand across my forehead, praying for strength.
"What's all this about?" he asked, jerking his head to one side to indicate the confusion of clothes on the floor, the bundle, the open doors of the wardrobe.
"I—I'm leaving, Nicholas."
"Are you?"
"You can't stop me,"
"No?"
"Men have arrived. They came to—to rescue me."
"Do you expect me to believe that?"
"I don't care what you believe."
My voice was stronger now, a hard edge underlining each word. The initial shock had worn off, and ! could feel determination building inside me. I wasn't going to be intimidated. I wasn't going to let him interfere. I stared at him with defiant eyes, no longer afraid.
"You're being very foolish, my dear," he said gently.
"I'm leaving. I'm taking Corrie with me."
"Very foolish," he repeated, shaking his head, "I'm going to have to punish you, you know."
"I'm not afraid of you, Nicholas."
It was true. Fear had vanished entirely. I felt a steelly hardness inside, strength such as I had rarely felt before. I stood very still, every muscle in my body taut, ready to spring, ready to strike. Nicholas unfolded his arms and tilted his head to one side, studying me with a reflective look in his eyes, a sad half-smile on his lips.
"This time I won't hesitate," he told me. "This time I won't allow personal feeling to interfere with duty. I told you I'd kill the little nigger, and I intend to do so. You'll watch."
"Corrie's already gone," I lied. "She left the house ten minutes ago."
"You're lying, Marietta."
"She's already with the men. They're going to blow up all your ships, the warehouses as well. He—the man who came after me—is setting a charge of explosives in the armory at this very moment."
"You do have a vivid imagination," he remarked. "No ship could possibly have approached this island without being observed."
"They anchored the ship in a secret cove down the coast and rowed to the island after dark." A slight frown creased his brow as he considered this information, wondering if it could possibly be true. After a moment he rejected it as being altogether too improbable. I prayed Corrie wouldn't come in, prayed she would hear him and have the sense to go out to the gardens.
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