Outside, the night was as dark as pitch. The warehouse at Cape Hood was little different, lit only by a single candle. Still, there were certain things Roman could identify in the darkness-a small fishing boat overturned nearby, paddles, nets. The smell of fish and dried salt were tangy in the heavy air.
Roman stood silently beside Tara. They were dressed as gypsies again. She had taken his amulet and hung it about her own neck. It was hidden now beneath her blouse. That knowledge gave him some hope. Mayhap it would give her luck, for surely they would need it. Listening to every noise, he absorbed each nuance of the men around them.
From the darkness, Dagger chuckled. "So ya got the bracelet, Princess."
Tara tossed back her long, black hair. It gleamed in the light of the tallow candle. "Did I not say I would fetch it for you?"
"Aye. Ya did."
Tara smiled. Even in the dimness, Roman could see the gleam of her teeth. They seemed brighter than ever against her walnut-stained skin. She held out her hand. Against her palm, the sapphires winked. " Twill teach ye not to distrust my word."
"I did not distrust it," Dagger said, turning to pace the room. "Indeed, I think ya could do whatever you set your mind to, Princess. But I did not expect ya to succeed so soon. For ya see, I heard a rumor that the... former owner was wearing the piece only last night. Did ya hear such a rumor?"
The warehouse fell silent. Roman tried to quiet his pulse, still it raced out of control, banging against his bare chest like a warning drumroll.
But Salina only shrugged and flipped her hair behind one bare shoulder. "It is is here now. Do you take it and seal our agreement, or do you waste my time questioning my methods?"
"I don't deny that your methods intrigue me," he said. "But then ..." He sighed. "'Tis enough to call it mine, for 'tis a pretty bauble and 'twill make a fine match for another piece I have. Mayhap ya would like to see its mate."
She shrugged again. "'Tis doubtful the jewels will adorn my own form, so I have little interest in them."
"But ya've such a bonny form," said Dagger. "Angel, bring out the necklace for the princess to see."
Roman's gaze skimmed the darkness as he assessed his enemies on all fronts. Spread in a semicircle behind him, there were at least a half dozen men. But still, the greatest danger stood before him. Angel was to his fore and right, Dagger directly in front of him.
Sapphires and diamonds spun on a fine web of silver tumbled out of a pouch into Angel's hand.
"There it is," Dagger said. "It'd look good on ya, Princess. Mayhap even better than on a French lady or a buxom barmaid."
Dear Jesu! He knew! Roman thought, but Tara cocked her head, looking perfectly relaxed.
"Are you offering me the necklace, Daggerman?"
For a moment, there was absolute silence, then Dagger chuckled. "Sweet Christ, ya are a bright one, Princess. Ya are a bright one, indeed. But who are you? I ask myself. For a time I thought you were the Shadow, himself. Now that seems ridiculous. But I met a woman at..." He paused, shaking his head. "She reminded me of you. And yet... it couldn't be."
Tara raised her chin. "I do not care to be compared to other women. I think that you will have little chance to get to know me better."
Dagger chuckled again and walked toward the lone candle, letting Tara and Roman see his face. "I fear ya're right," he said. "Because ..." He lifted his hands as if begging forgiveness, but at the same time he nodded shallowly to the men behind Roman.
A nightmarish memory flashed through Roman's mind. Dagger had nodded to his men before and Scar had died. Roman twisted about just in time to see a man lunged toward him, knife outstretched. He died with a gurgling scream.
"Run!" Roman yelled. Tara did. But instead of dashing toward the door, she leapt forward to whisk the necklace from Angel's hand.
The villain's fingers closed a moment too late.
"Kill her!" Dagger shrieked.
Angel yanked a blade from its scabbard. Tara lunged away, but in that instant, Angel grabbed her blouse and reeled her back.
She shrieked as she was snapped to a halt. Roman leapt toward them with a growl.
Angel spun toward him. Releasing her to defend himself, he swiped with his knife. Roman ducked and stabbed.
There was a rasping gasp of pain. Angel staggered backward, a dirk protruding from his abdomen.
"Go!" Roman roared. But Tara was surrounded.
Terror roiled in Roman's stomach. There was nothing he could do but sacrifice his life.
Screaming, he launched himself, bare-handed, into the circle of men. Two of them went down with him.
"Roman! No!" He heard Tara's shriek, but there was no time to think. A blade descended toward him. He rolled to the side and nearly gained his feet. But suddenly pain stabbed through his back.
"No!" Tara screamed again. But he could no longer see her.
He was surrounded by a circle of slavering hounds, drooling as they closed in for the kill.
"What now, Princess?" Dagger crooned.
Tara spun about and Dagger grabbed her arm. There was no time for thought. She snatched the nearby candle and slammed it into her captor's face.
Dagger screamed as the flame bit his cheek. Stumbling backward, he swatted at the sparks in his hair, but the action only fanned the flame. He shrieked for help. Two men turned from Roman and rushed toward him. Tara lunged sideways, not thinking, only reacting.
The oar felt solid and real in her hand. She swung at the nearest man and struck him across his left ear. He yelped, dropping his knife and careening into his companion.
Roman rose from the ground with a growl of fury. A knife flashed in the dim light. A man crumbled. Another backed away. Tara swung again.
"Come on. Come!" Tara yelled.
Roman stumbled toward her. She grabbed his arm, sticky with blood, and dragged him toward the only exit.
"Locked!" he rasped.
But in that moment the door swung open.
"Hurry!" gasped Liam.
Outside, the darkness swallowed them.
"Kill them!" screamed Dagger.
The guard near their feet moaned.
Liam dragged at Roman's arm, dancing along beside. "Hide," he insisted then darted away.
Tara froze, abandoned, terrified. Roman leaned on her shoulder, heavy and limp.
Footsteps thudded inside the warehouse. Sweet Mary, they were coming. She had to save him. Had to hide.
Gasping for breath, she dragged him along the side of the building. He stumbled and nearly fell, but she pulled him to his feet and hurried on. The warehouse ended abruptly. She pulled him around the corner.
Men careened to a halt as they rushed out after them.
"Where—"
'They're coming. Run!" Liam yelled.
The villains turned as a unit, falling for Liam's ploy and bolting off after him.
Tara allowed herself one moment to rest and pray. "Don't die!" she pleaded quietly.
"The water's our best wager,” Roman rumbled.
"You can speak,” she whispered and hugged Roman's arm to her. Blood smeared across her blouse. His head drooped. "Scotsman." Her voice sounded panicked to her own ears.
His head came up. He lifted his hand and touched her cheek. "Who are ye, Tara O'Flynn?"
"Please." The word came out as a whispered sob. "Please, don't die, Scotsman."
"’Tis sorry I-" he murmured, and slumped heavily in her arms..
"No!" She managed to pull him back up. "The water. I'll get you to the water." But the river was more than twenty rods away, and there would be no cover. Still, they couldn't stay where they were. Dagger's men would surely circle the warehouse once they lost Liam.
Dragging at his arm, Tara toted Roman into the open. Eternity passed with every raspy breath he drew. Terror gnawed at Tara's gut. "Just a little farther. A little—"
"Check by the water!" Dagger growled from the doorway.
Footsteps raced through the darkness toward them.
Tara froze. For the first time in her life, panic consumed her. "I'm sorry." She clung to Roman's arm. "So sorry. Please—" She was babbling.
"Shh," he hissed. Slumping to the ground, he picked up a stone and heaved it with all his remaining might.
"What was that?"
"There! They're over there!"
Footsteps rushed away.
"It willna take them long ta learn they've been tricked," Roman rasped.
"Forgive me," Tara whispered. "Please."
"Get me in the water," Roman ordered.
"Forgive me," she pleaded again.
Roman turned his face to look into her eyes. "I've na wish ta die here, lass." His words were no more than a whimper.
She nodded. Hope was distant thing, far out of her reach. But he had asked her to do it, and she would. From their right, they heard men splash into the water.
"Did ya find 'em?"
"They're 'ere somewhere."
A man swore. Their voices were distant, but coming closer.
Tara stepped into the water, dragging Roman with her. It was shockingly cold, taking her breath as it rose to her chest.
"Tara." Roman's voice was weak. He was half floating now and felt much lighter. "I cannot hold on much longer. Ye must—"
"No! Please."
His hand found her arm and gripped it hard. "Listen ta me, lass."
"Roman," she whimpered.
"Shh. I would have ye know this now, lass, before the darkness takes me. Na matter the circumstances, these days with ye have been the best of me life."
"Roman—"
"Shush now. I am sorry ta have failed ye."
"No. No." She hugged him tighter. "Please—"
"But I must ask ye one more thing." For a moment he went silent. She watched his eyes fall closed. "I am sorry. Very ..." He shivered. "Cold." He fell silent again. She felt his muscles go lax.
"Roman!" She said it too loudly, but she didn’t care.
"Shh." He woke with a start. "Ye must leave me."
"Nay!" She sobbed the word.
"Have ye the necklace?"
"I won't leave you. I won't."
He shushed her again. "Ye must get the necklace to Harrington. Tell him I have fulfilled me part of the bargain."
"But—"
"Tell him," Roman begged. "Or me death will be in vain. MacAulay will die with me."
"I'll get you to a healer."
He shook his head, but the motion was weak. "There is na time, lass. The necklace must be in Harrington's hands by tomorrow. It must."
"I know you're here, Princess."
Dagger's raised voice sliced into Tara's thoughts. He was close. Very close.
"I know you're here because this is where I would come." He chuckled. The sound was low and soothing, as if they shared a harmless conspiracy.
"Did y' find the 'ore?" someone gasped, running up.
For a moment there was silence then, "Yes, Wads, I found her," Dagger said.
"I'll kill 'er for y'."
"This one is mine," Dagger said. "Give me your knife."
There was a moment's silence, but suddenly a man's gasp filled the night. Footsteps stumbled. A body fell.
"You should have known she was far too good for the likes of you, Wads," Dagger said.
Tara heard him turn toward her. Terror and cold immobilized her.
"I will not hurt you, Princess," he called. "See, I have killed Wads for you. I'm unarmed, now." He fell silent, pacing closer.
Dear God, he was coming!
"My apologies for the misunderstanding. You saw my face, so I believed you must die. But now I realize your worth."
Tara dared not breathe. Beside her, Roman was silent. Was he dead? She felt a sob rise up her throat, but clasped her hand over her mouth, praying.
"Come out of there, Princess. I can see you, you know. I fear your friend will not live. But perhaps that is best. He seemed the jealous sort. There must be nothing standing between you and me. We were meant to be mated for life. Ahh, the things we could accomplish together."
Tara could see him now. Could he see her?
She heard running footsteps, whispered voices. Someone had joined Dagger.
They were coming. She could wait no longer. She would have to take the final risk. Tara grasped Roman's sleeve. Her fingers were numb. She willed them to tighten, tugging harder. He moved, floating along beside her.
'There! What is that?"
"It's them!"
"Get out there!"
"Get 'em!"
Roman was about to die. He would die, if he weren't already dead. Sweet Mary, please no! The silent lament sang through her heart. "Please no," she whispered, and placing her hands on Roman's shoulders, pushed him under.
He didn't resist as his head sank below the surface. Tara willed herself not to think of that as she joined him beneath the waves. He was alive. He was merely holding his breath. He had to be. She managed to propel them through the water. Time wavered. Reality dimmed. She could die here with him. What would it matter? Her lungs ached, begging for air, but she moved on, dragging Roman through the dark water, willing him to live.
But finally she could wait no longer. Lungs bursting, she shot to the surface. Air rushed in, sweet, intoxicating, and for a moment she had no strength to worry about Dagger or his men. She was alive for this moment, and that was enough.
Beside her, Roman coughed. Praise God, he was alive. She had to keep moving.
Not bothering to try to distinguish the shadowy forms on the shores, Tara pushed her numb muscles back into motion, dragging Roman along behind her as she trod through the water.
Minutes turned to hours and hours to eternity. The night stretched interminably before her, until finally, exhausted and freezing, she dragged him to shore.
Shaking, she pulled the amulet from her neck and slipped it over his head with a prayer. When she pressed her ear to his chest, she could hear a pulse, but it would not be there long, not if she didn't get him warm and dry.
Clamping her hands over her freezing arms, she glanced around. Dawn was approaching. And with it, additional dangers, or help. She waited for a moment, trying to think.
The sound of a horse's hooves finally penetrated her mind. What should she do? The Shadow, with her precision timing and unflappable bravery was indeed dead. In her place was Tara O'Flynn, terrified and uncertain. But she could not stay there on the bank of the firth forever.
One silent prayer and she was up the slope to the road. A piebald horse was trotting down the lane. It snorted at the sight of her and swerved, rattling the narrow cart behind it.
"'Oo goes there?" called a quavering voice.
One quick glance in each direction assured Tara that the road was empty but for this one traveler. "'Tis just me," she said, stepping into the clearing.
The woman on the wagon skimmed her gaze over Tara and then into the brush from which she had stepped. "What be ya doin' out 'ere?"
Tara took another step forward. Her legs wobbled dangerously. "I'm in trouble."
"I'd like ta 'elp ya, lass," said the woman, shifting her nervous gaze sideways again as if searching for villains, "but I needs ta get these fishes ta market 'fore the sun sets 'em ta stinking."
"Please." How rarely had Tara begged before this past week. But pride had abandoned her since Roman's entrance into her life.
The woman chewed her lip. "I got ta go. Mr. Cobb's been laid up, I'm alls what stands between the babes and hunger." She raised the reins to drive the piebald on. Tara stepped into the middle of the road, trying to think with her senses as she always had. Fear and fatigue weighed her down, but perhaps instinct took over.
"Your husband, will he mend soon?" she asked quickly. Her mind was spinning. She had to think. The sun was rising, pushing a pale, predawn glow over the world.
The woman nodded, settling her rein-bearing hands back on her knees. "'E's been down a bit. But 'e'll be up and givin' little Margaret pig-a-back rides soon enough." A mixture of hope and adoration shone in her eyes, but she shifted them again as if remembering she spoke to a stranger. "Do I know ya, lass?"
Tara shook her head. A scheme was beginning to surface.
"Are you alone?"
There was no time for mistakes now, and very little time to think. "Nay. I've... I've a friend down by the river."
Mrs. Cobb tensed, ready to flee. Tara took one step closer.
"Please, I need your help. My Rory..." She dropped her face into her cupped palms and felt the sob rise in her throat with no urging. "My Rory! Such a good man is he. 'Tis not our fault he was born to the anvil and I to the manor." She lifted her face to gaze imploring at the fishmonger. "'Tis not our fault."
"'Oly saints," the woman murmured as Tara's words sunk home to her. "'Oo are ya, lass."
Tara bit her lip. Time was fleeting. "My name's Christine," she whispered just loudly enough to be heard. "Christine Harrington."