Blackwells: My Timeswept Heart Part 36

"But I know naught of you."

"Let's keep it that way, huh? Adds a little mystery."

He actually chuckled, the sound low and sinister, making her skin crawl. She couldn't draw a decent breath, sandwiched between them, and Tess thought she'd do something stupid like pa.s.s out. He was a cold-blooded killer, and she played a dangerous game.

"Back off, Rothmere," she warned, gathering the courage to look him in the eye.

"You haven't the choice, my dear." His cold, clammy fingers slipped inside the loose bodice, and Tess felt she'd vomit any second. Would serve him right, she decided, swallowing repeatedly. He bent 385.

his head, the grip on her arms tightening when she tried to twist away. I can't let him, she thought, afraid she wouldn't survive anything dealt by Phil-lip. Tess's hand slipped cautiously into her pocket, fingers wrapping around the lock picks. It was little defense, but all she had.

His long fingers roughly clenched her jaw, his foul-smelling lips hovering close. Tess sent her elbow into the guard's gut, then swiftly brought the pick upward, aiming for Phillip's eye, but only managing to stab at his cheek. The thin metal hooked in his skin and she yanked, raking it across his flesh. He howled, jerking back and covering his cheek. He glared between her and the pool of blood in his palm, then drew his arm back to strike. He swung and instantly Tfess dropped to the floor. The guard took the intended blow, staggering back with an agonized scream as Phillip's rings sliced open his face from forehead to jaw, Tess scrambled to her feet, but Phillip was quick, grabbing her by the arms and dragging her up to meet his face. Blood poured from his cheek in thick pulsing waves, running down his throat, staining his lace jabot and coat.

"I will enjoy every scream," he told her in a icy voice.

"You're just p.i.s.sed off 'cause I outsmarted your a.s.s."

His thin blond brow rose, sending a shiver of terror racing through her. "Are you claiming to be a worthy adversary, my dear?"

G.o.d save me, Tess thought, he was completely 386.

composed, showing no sign of pain. Christ, he needed about twenty st.i.tches!

"What? The lady has no witty retort?" He ran his hand down her arm to her wrist, gripping tightly. Tess fought with everything she had as he yanked her along, managing to keep him from leaving the room entirely. He called for aid, yet surprisingly none came.

"A man approaches, sir," a guard called from behind Tess. Phillips narrowed gaze moved toward the veranda doors. "The signal?"

"Sent, sir." The messenger's eyes drifted to Tess.

"And?" he demanded impatiently.

" Tis Lord Whittingham, sir."

Phillip frowned, glancing at Tess. "Bring him to me." He unexpectedly released her, and she banged into a chair- "We will continue this another time, be a.s.sured, my dear." He drew out a neatly pressed handkerchief, snapped it open, then held it to his cheek. It reddened instantly.

He walked away without a backward glance, heels tapping.

Tess slithered to the floor, breathless with receding fear. So, there was a signal, huh?

A pair of polished shoes appeared in her line of vision. She lifted her gaze to see the butler, his hand offered in a.s.sistance.

387.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

White stucco bleached as old bones was visible in the darkness. Windows glowing with candlelight gave the aura of fire inside a skull picked clean. Lavish flower beds draped red around the house like a torn peasant skirt, a bleeding slope to the high wall, black iron spikes protruding from its wide flat surface, resembling scepters of Lucifer.

Thick chains grated in their metal guides, the sc.r.a.pe vibrating in the night. Wood creaked and hinges whined as the drawbridge was let down slowly, giving safe pa.s.sage over shifting water. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing from beyond the residence could be heard over the command to enter.

On the ground a few feet away, Dane lay flat on his stomach, his body clad in black from head to toe, his face smeared with soot. He blended into the darkness like a stalking panther, only his pale green eyes glowing with a feral determination.

Nigel Whittingham tossed the torch into the moat. It hissed and sizzled as he walked slowly, his heavy trod thumping on the bridge. Dane crawled quickly across the damp earth, digging with his elbows to propel him- 388.

self to the water's edge, the smoke from the extinguished torch shielding his body when he met open ground. He slid down the bank, his hands making purchase on the rough wood, legs dangling over the black water. Dane maneuvered only a foot or two, hands shifting sidejby side along the drawbridge almost in time with Whittingham's steps. Almost. The instant the Englishman's foot met the path to the house, the bridge jerked on its ride back up. Dane held on, muscles straining, but the rise was swift. Vertical over the water, he reached out to grab a spike just as the wood fitted into its stone frame. The old iron crumbled in his hand and he groped for security on another, swinging a leg out to catch anything that might keep him from falling into the moat. His booted toes dug into the ancient mortar, fragments tumbling into the water with soft plops as he quickly adjusted his grip, then gradually moved away from the torchlight, inch by painstaking inch. Patience, he told himself, nocturnal sounds m.u.f.fling the sc.r.a.pes of his boots.

When he determined he was well enough away from the entrance, he pulled himself up until his eyes cleared the edge. Whittingham pa.s.sed beside a bubbling fountain in the center of the courtyard, then vanished from his line of vision, moving beyond, Dane knew, into the house. Close to his hiding place, three guards slowly paced, and he counted at least ten farther up on the slope, walking a measured path through the gardens. Dane watched. The pattern was the same, their manner bored and haphazard. The trio nearest to him smoked pipes, each taking a turn as lookout. Not toward the wall, he realized, but for movement from the house.

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Phillip strode into the study, scarcely sparing the man a glance, pressing the cloth to his face. Whit-tingham rushed toward him but stopped short when he saw the b.l.o.o.d.y handkerchief.

"Dear G.o.d, man, what happened?"

Phillip dropped into a leather chair. "It gives me a bit of character, don't you think?" He turned his head so Nigel could admire the wound.

The Englishman turned green, his expression sour. "For the love of G.o.d, man, have someone sew you up. d.a.m.ned wretched, that."

Phillip replaced the cloth. "The damages, Nigh?"

"Gone, all of it. Blown to h.e.l.l."

Another payment, Blackwell, Phillip thought with a tired sigh.

"But that is not why I've come." Phillip looked up, waiting for the man to deliver his news. "Captain Blackwell wants in."

"Naturally."

"You will not allow him entrance?"

Phillip merely raised a brow.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, man! He has my daughter!"

Not one muscle in Phillip's expression changed.

Whittingham clenched his teeth. "Then he said to give you this." He removed a pouch from beneath his waistcoat and tossed it to him. With a bored manner Phillip dropped the b.l.o.o.d.y cloth and opened the sack, dumping the contents into his palm. A diamond the size of his thumbnail glistened against his smooth white skin.

Nigel had never seen this side of the man as Phillip 390.

held the gem up to the light, the diamond's facets catching the glow and splashing it on the walls in filtered blues, pinks, and lavenders. Phillip was entranced, nearly hypnotized by the stone, his eyes flaming with strange greedy pleasure.

"Well, the Blackwells are rather impatient to part with still more of their fortune." Phillip swallowed, his tongue feeling thick.

Nigel eyed him cautiously. The man made no move to staunch the flow of blood. "He said there is more."

Phillip smiled thinly. "I can only wonder how much his precious bride is worth."

Gaelan turned his back from the house, struck flint and checked his timepiece. Three more minutes, sir, and we're coming in, he thought, wishing the captain had allowed at least one other to join him. He turned back toward the structure, lifting the spygla.s.s to his eye. Dane was like a predatory animal, hunting, hungry, as he slipped over the wall and moved behind unsuspecting guards, then disappeared into a clump of flowers. Gaelan held his breath when one of the guards turned his head in Dane's direction, peering curiously toward the flowers. The first mate lowered the gla.s.s, drawing his sleeve across his sweaty brow, then whispered to the man beside him. "Prepare to board, Mr. Finch."

Dane's powerful legs carried him swiftly to the side of the house. He paused in the dark, stepping back and glancing briefly around him before he removed the 391.

rope secured to his belt. The wind whipped at his shirt. He had only a moment to get to Tess before his men boarded. The guards began to move in his direction. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l! Why did they choose now to become devoted to duty? He made a swift wide circle over his head, the rope whining through the air, its sound blending with the wind. He snapped his wrist, and the iron grappling hook caught on the roof ledge. He jerked it once, then positioned his hands to climb. Thickly muscled arms lifted his body off the ground. One hand moved to overtake the rope when he heard the distinct click of pistol hammer, a second before he felt the cold barrel at the base of his skull.

"Make your choice, mister."

Dane silenced a curse, his shoulders tense as he slowly released the rope.

Beyond the wall, planks taken from the hull of Phil-lip's ship were positioned vertically on the bank. At the signal, the wood slots simultaneously lowered until their ends met the wall's edge to bridge the moat. Feet familiar with the roll of the sea covered the dangerous distance as if born to the task. Pistols and muskets were drawn and primed, a deadly a.s.sortment of swords and knives winking in the moonlight as Continental Marines a.s.saulted the stone prison to fight for their captain and his lady.

"What do you want?"

The dark-haired man extended his hand farther.

392.

"Merely to help you from the floor, madame. I a.s.sure you."

Tess sent him a nasty look. "I've heard that before, thank you very much." She climbed to her feet on her own power, not ready to trust anyone in this house.

"I am not your foe, Mistress Blackwell." His smile was gentle, wrinkling the corners of his young eyes.

She frowned. "Do I know you?"

He eyed her into silence, then glanced meaningfully beyond her. Tess twisted to see Elizabeth staring at her mangled hand, oblivious to her surroundings.

"Elizabeth," she called softly.

No response. She looks catatonic, Tess thought.

"Look, Jeeves, I want out. If you want to join me, fine, but-"

"He will not allow you to leave, Mistress Blackwell," Elizabeth muttered, her tone resolute.

"I don't give a era-"

A sharp blast drowned out her words, gunfire ringing through the ma.s.sive house. Tess whirled about. White smoke drifted from the study. Phillip appeared, shoving a pistol into the band of his breeches along with its mate, that horrifyingly calm smile playing across his lips. He walked down the corridor, his step uneven as he blotted at blood splatters on his clothing and face.

"You see," Elizabeth whispered into the sudden quiet. "No one leaves Phillip."

"Your husband is prepared to bargain for your life, mistress." He held the diamond up for her to see, then dropped it into his pocket.

Tess pushed the butler aside when he tried to shield her. No one else would die for her, she vowed, stum- 393.

bling back as Phillip advanced on her.

"The gems, my dear."

Tess overturned a chair to block his path. "I-I don't know anything about - "

He shoved aside the furniture, moving forward. " Tis a shame you are such a terrible liar, madame." His hand darted out to grab her arm and haul her against his side. His skin was pasty white, and he licked his lips repeatedly. "I've no patience for lies this night, Mistress Blackwell." He raised the gun and, with the barrel, stroked his mutilated cheek, the blood congealed and thick. " Tis a small matter of a debt to be settled a'tween us."

Tess saw her death in those ice-blue eyes. Diamonds or no diamonds, he wanted her blood.

From all directions came gunshots, screams of pain and victory crowding the air. Phillip hissed, his lips twisting cruelly before he bellowed for his guards, dragging Tess along with him as he raced to the veranda doors. Nearly a hundred men advanced, dispatching his sentries like farmers chopping cane. Overturned torches ignited swiftly, burning dry palm gra.s.s.

Two guards suddenly burst through the pantry doors, dragging a lifeless man by his arms. Tess's heart clenched, immediately recognizing her husband.

"Found *im climbin* to the roof, sir." They dumped their prisoner at Phillip's feet.

"Oh, G.o.d!" Tess cried, tearing away from Phillip and sliding to her knees beside Dane. She checked his pulse. Thank G.o.d!

Phillip chuckled, the sound hollow as an empty well, making her skin p.r.i.c.kle as Tess struggled to roll 394.

Dane over onto his back. His 'handsome face was marred with sc.r.a.pes and his clothing was torn, but other than that, she couldn't find any injury that would render him unconscious.

Behind her Phillip s.n.a.t.c.hed a crystal water pitcher from the,sideboard and moved to stand over Dane. "Well, Captain Blackwell," he said silkily, emptying it in his face. "How convenient of you to join us."

Dane's hand instantly shot out, latching onto Phil-lip's ankle and jerking hard, tumbling the man to the floor as he came upright. Phillip grunted, the pitcher shattered, and his gun slipped from his grip, spinning across the polished floor, A guard lunged at Dane, and the captain twisted around on one knee, his silver blade whizzing through the air and sinking into the man's chest. The guard fell, dead before he hit the floor. Dane turned; Phillip was climbing to his feet. The second guard raised his pistol. "Nooo!" Tess screamed; Dane was unarmed! Dane shoved her back and dove for the man's legs. At the impact, the gun went off. A peal of agony burned around them before the guard's back hit the parqueted floor. Then a second shot fired. For a breathless moment the house was silent. White smoke hovered around the butler, a flintlock in his hand.

Tess scrambled across the floor to where Dane lay sprawled on the guard's legs. "If you're hurt, Black-well, I swear, I'll kill you!" Her hands rubbed over his body, searching for the wound as he sat back on his haunches.

" Tis good to know such things, love," he offered, shaking his head to clear it. "Captain!" the butler shouted. Too late. The air 395.

abruptly left Tess's lungs when an arm clamped around

her waist, yanking her off the floor and away from her

husband. In one smooth motion, Dane leapt to his

feet. /*