She stood by a rustling alder watching for any sign of movement among the ruins, but all seemed quiet. The clouds closed over the last of the sun, and suddenly she could no longer see the ship in the bay. She brushed aside the leaves to step from the shelter of the bushes by the river’s edge.
Another growl of thunder sounded almost overhead, but she realized the rain was less heavy now. She could no longer feel the drops striking her shoulders and the moaning of the breeze through the damp wood was louder and clearer. The river slid smoothly past the old abbey, its bed unbroken by boulders, but in the distance she heard it babbling again as it rushed the last mile to the sea.
Slowly she moved on to the level ground by the ruins, pausing as a new scent caught her nostrils. It was a distinctive smell, warm and sweet, and mixed with a trace of leather. There was a horse close by. She froze, her eyes sweeping the tangle of branches and leaves that stretched around the perimeter of the clearing. Then she saw it, a dark shadow by a fallen rowan tree. Even in the eerie light of the storm she could see that it was Nicholas’ horse, hidden from the abbey by the tree, and safe from approach from the other side because of the river. But where was Nicholas?
She went to the horse to pat its shoulder soothingly. The animal was hot, as if it had only recently been ridden hard. She left the rowan tree and hurried through the thick grass to the nearest ivy-clad wall, flattening against it breathlessly to scan the remainder of the abbey. It was so horribly quiet now, but for the wind over Ladywood. The rain was reduced to wisps of damp gossamer that brushed her skin so delicately she could not feel it. An owl called. The darkness deepened with each passing second.
“Nicholas?” The whisper sounded unnaturally loud.
Something rustled through the grass behind her and with a gasp she turned, her heart thundering as whatever it was came nearer. Then she saw that it was a vixen, her belly close to the ground and her brush dragging behind her as she slunk across the open ground, pausing nervously to look behind as if she heard something. A twig snapped somewhere and the vixen was gone.
Fearfully, Jessica looked in the direction of the sound. The hairs on the nape of her neck prickled with fear and she licked her lips with a tongue that was dry. Stealthy sounds carried on the breeze, as if someone was creeping ever closer to the ruins. Instinct told her she had only just arrived ahead of the smugglers.
“Nicholas?” she whispered again, moving from the shelter of the wall to the next part of the ruin, the remains of a tower where the ground floor rooms were still complete.
“Nicholas, if you are here, for pity’s sake answer me!” her voice ended on a sob.
Her heart almost stopped then as a hand closed over her mouth and dragged her into a shadowy doorway. “Jessica, what in God’s name are you doing here?” Nicholas shook her, his voice rough with surprise.
She pulled his hand from her mouth urgently. “They know you are here! Tamsin told Cluffo that she heard what you said to Harry Parr. She didn’t know what she was doing.” She stared from him toward the quiet woods where the stealthy sounds had ceased. “The ship is in the bay already,” she whispered, her voice dropping so that he could hardly hear her. “And I heard them coming through the woods a moment ago. They are over that way, cutting off the landward side. There’s no escape that way.”
“Nor to seaward, for they’re already down there, I’ve been watching. God take Varangian, for I caught no sight of him. I’ve still no proof of his involvement.”
“Why does it matter so much? Let it be, Nicholas, for tonight is the last time anyway.”
“It is a matter of the law, Jessica.” He looked from the doorway toward the rowan tree. “We could perhaps reach the horse.” His arm slipped around her waist. “You should not have come, for this is too dangerous.”
“I had to warn you....” She broke off as his arm tightened, drawing her across the open doorway to the other side where he looked at the woods for any sign of danger.
“Well, Jessica, it grieves me to let the ring slip through my fingers, but I value my life above the letter of the law. Below where we stand, in the crypt, is stored so much contraband that I think Varangian must have culled a vast fortune since this all began.”
“He needed it,” she murmured and he glanced quickly at her. But then a late roll of thunder echoed over Ladywood and a dog began to bark furiously at the sudden sound. It was Nipper.
Nicholas seized the moment, dragging her behind him as he bent low to run across the open ground toward the rowan tree. They reached its shelter and crouched down to listen. Nipper was silenced at last and the stillness returned.
Quickly, Nicholas untethered the horse and mounted, glancing around before reaching down to lift Jessica. As she took his hand the pistol shot rang out and his fingers went limp. She screamed as he slid forward over the horse’s shoulders, falling heavily to the ground at her feet. The horse was gone then, its hooves thudding dully on the wet ground as it turned instinctively in the direction of Woodville House. Jessica went to Nicholas, crying out as she saw the slow trickle of blood oozing across his forehead. His eyes were closed and he did not move.
“Oh, Miss Jess, you hadn’t ought to have come here.”
“Jamie?” She looked up as Jamie bent over to look at the unconscious man.
“ ‘Tis only a graze, which be a pity as he’ve got to die now,” he said softly, reloading the pistol with slow, steady hands.
“No. No, please, Jamie!” Her hand reached out, trembling.
Beyond him she saw Cluffo, a torch held high. “They’m both dangerous, Jamie, you knows that,” muttered the groom anxiously.
Her eyes fled back to Jamie. “Your identities are known anyway,” she said quickly. “To kill us would merely add murder to the list of charges against you. Smuggling means deportation, but murder means the gallows.”
Jamie nodded. “I know that well enough, but I don’t know that you’re being truthful in this, Jess. By the looks of you I’d say you’d tell me anything to spare his life.”
“I would, but it so happens that I am speaking the truth.” She met his gaze as squarely as she could, for she must convince him.
“Happen you’re an honest woman most of the time, Jess Durleigh, but I’ve a sight to lose should I choose wrong now.”
“You haven’t, Jamie. You haven’t anything to lose. This was the last run anyway, wasn’t it? Well, take everything and go—go to America like you told me you planned.”
“And what of him?”
“He can do nothing to stop you.”
“He can get the militia on our tails quick as lightning. We’d not make it to Bristol.”
“How long do you need?”
“For Bristol? A day.”
“I can give you a day.”
“How?”
“I’ll keep him safe for a day, what more can I say?” She glanced at the faces at the edge of the torchlight, but she could not recognize any of them. Was Francis there? Or would he keep from sight?
“Get the line moving,” muttered Jamie, jerking his head at Cluffo.
“You ain’t going to listen to her, Jamie?”
“Do as I say, or the tide’ll turn and we’ll miss the last pickings.”
“What of me, Jamie? She knows me now.”
“Come with me to Bristol or hang.”
“You decided to trust her?” Cluffo looked at her with hate in his eyes.
Jamie nodded. “I’ve no desire to hang for my crimes, my friend. I dursn’t risk that our names are known. Woodville ain’t no revenue man, he’s a government man if ever I saw one. There ain’t no more palms to cross with silver now. Get out now and live to fight another day, eh?” Jamie smiled.
“But we’re putting us selves in her hands.”
“I trust her, Cluffo, and I’ve good reason to. Haven’t I, Jess?”
She nodded.
Cluffo shook his head agitatedly. “But, Dolly! What of her?”
“Dolly wouldn’t leave Henbury for a small fortune, you know that. Now get going, Cluffo, or I’ll end your botherings here and now.” Jamie’s pistol moved toward the man’s chest.
Cluffo turned away and the small group of men melted away through the ruins toward the beach where a light was flashing on the hidden ship.
In the distance a hound was baying and Jamie glanced toward the sound irritatedly. “Varangian’s out again!”
She looked at him, “He’s not one of you?”
“Varangian? You must be jesting. He’s like a ferret after the poachers every night. He’s too honest for my peace of mind is that one.”
“Francis has nothing to do with the ring?”
“No.”
“Then who is the leader?”
Jamie smiled. “You’re talking to him, Jess Durleigh. This ring is mine and mine alone.”
“Oh, Jamie, you could have set that brain of yours to something safe and legal, and you could have done so well for yourself.”
“Ah, but safe and legal would bore the tail off me. Just like marrying Varangian would have done for you, for I knows you well, Jess.”
“And will you leave no sweetheart behind?”
“The only wench I ever had a fancy for have taken to mixing with the nobs. A farmer’s daughter, chestnut-haired and with a light in her eye fit to spark an icicle.”
She looked steadily at him. “I’m sorry, Jamie.”
“There ain’t no need. ‘Tis nothing I’ll pine away over—not Jamie Pike.” He smiled. “ ‘Tis one of the injustices of life that I drags to mind when I’ve a notion the fire inside me is burning low.”
She looked away, brushing the thick gouts of blood from Nicholas’ face with the wet cloth of her mantle.
“What have the Woodville’s got then, Jess? Tell me that? For first it were that bad lot, Philip, and now this one.”
“There’s no answer to that question.”
“Well, happen you’ve chosen more wisely this time.” He turned to look toward the sea. As he stared, the light on the ship ceased to flash. “It’s nearly done now.”
Down in the bay a donkey brayed.
“But if Francis is out in Ladywood how will you get through?”
“By going right across Varangian Park, that’s how. I’m wise to him now. I know that when he sets out after the poachers he takes all his men with him. Like a dashed army they are. Varangian is daft not guarding his rear. A fine general he’d make, and no mistake.”
“Take care, Jamie.”
“I shall. Reckon this must be the last time I sees you then, Jess Durleigh.”
She stared at him, seeing in him a faint ghost from the past: a tousled-haired boy who had kissed her behind the schoolhouse, and then tugged her hair when she had told her best friend Rosamund.
Through the trees a line of faint lights moved along the shore line and Jamie tucked the pistol into his belt. “It’s time I went. A day now, I have your word on it?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll get him into shelter in the abbey, but that’s all I’m doing for you.”
“Yes.” She stood as he bent to grab Nicholas beneath the arms.
He dragged him slowly across the grass and into the room where earlier, she and Nicholas had stood wondering how to escape. Inside he laid him comfortably on the hard, dry ground.
“He’ll be well enough. A mortal bad headache, but no more than that.”
“I hope so,” she said anxiously, staring at Nicholas’ ghastly paleness.
“I knows what I’m talking about. Good-bye then, Jess Durleigh.”
“Good-bye, Jamie. And good luck.”
He caught her hand and pulled her near, kissing her on the lips. “And don’t go telling your best friend this time neither,” he murmured, releasing her abruptly. Then he was gone. She heard his footsteps through the long grass before the night swallowed him.