Midnight Rose (54 page)

It was a dark night, with no moon, but a few lanterns burned for safety and security.

Head down, shoulders hunched, misery personified in every nerve in his body, Ryan fought the impulse to just jump into the cold, black waters and give it all up. What was life, anyway, without the woman he loved? It was hard enough to live without her, but to have to live with the knowledge she believed him responsible for her fate was more than he could bear.

Suddenly he froze, blinked, shook his head to clear it, told himself it was only his mind playing cruel tricks. Then he was running, stooping to snatch up the single red rose lying on the pier.

Somewhere, a church bell tolled the hour.

Twelve times.

Midnight.

It all came rushing back, like tides eternal. A rose had been Erin’s signal in Richmond.

Could it be?

He looked up to see the ship—the name, visible by the lantern, on her bow
—Freedom.

It was all starting to come together. Erin had to be responsible for the midnight rose. It explained everything: why Nanny Bess had reacted as she had, even the preacher. Erin had escaped, and she was here, in Philadelphia, and they hated him, loathed him, held him responsible for her having been abducted in the first place, and believed he was trying to hunt her down, take her back.

It also meant Erin was somewhere close by, and by God, he was going to find her!

In the shadows, watching it all, stood Zachary. He wasn’t sure what was going on, what Ryan had found there on the pier. It looked like a flower of some kind. And he seemed excited, so he had to be onto something.

Maybe it would be time soon.

Time for vengeance.

Time to bring out the black powder he’d been waiting to use for such a long, long time.

Chapter Thirty-Four

There was no answer.

Erin knocked harder, louder, but no sound came from within the cabin.

A movement just down the narrow hallway caused her to jump, startled. Whirling about, she recognized one of the crew. “Norman, where is Captain O’Grady? I’ve got to see him right away.”

He cocked his head to one side in puzzlement over why Miss Starling was on the ship at such a late hour. She looked terribly upset. Surely some bloke wasn’t trying to assault her. What man would want to, less’n he was drunk? She was so dowdy and plain, and always cold and standoffish. “He’s not on board,” he finally told her. “Him and the others went ashore to make a little merry, being I’m told we sail tomorrow night. So’s I don’t look for them back much ’for day.”

Erin pressed her forehead, her palms, against the door.

“Is there something I can do?” he asked, hoping there wasn’t. Whatever was going on, he wanted no part of it. Even though he was on duty, he figured he could sneak a bit of ale as a treat, since he hadn’t been able to join the others for revelry, and he had some waiting.

Erin tried the knob. It wasn’t locked. “I’ll wait inside.” She stepped in and closed the door behind her.

Norman scratched his head. Something funny was going on, but he wasn’t going to worry about it. If she wanted to stay in the captain’s quarters for the night, so be it. He could hear that mug of ale calling.

Back on deck, he settled down. The night was passing slowly, but he didn’t care. The ale was relaxing, and he saw no harm in dozing. It would be hours before the others returned.

It was sometime later that he heard a noise like someone slipping up behind him, but he wasn’t quick enough, and a hand clamped across his mouth before he could get to his feet.

“Just be quiet and don’t move. All I want is information.” With his other hand, Ryan held the knife so the blade would gleam ominously in the starboard lantern just before the man felt it against his neck.

Norman whispered frantically as the cold steel touched his flesh. He wasn’t about to die defending a bloody ship. “Take what you want. I don’t care…”

Ryan said, “I’m not here to steal. I told you, all I want is information. Lie to me, and I’ll slit your throat.”

“Anything. I’ll tell you anything.”

“I’m looking for a woman. Her name is Erin Sterling. I have reason to believe she’s around here somewhere. You know her?”

“Never heard the name, I swear.”

Ryan pressed the knife a bit harder. “I told you, goddamn it, don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not, oh, God, I’m not.” Norman’s teeth were chattering, and he felt his bladder relax, the warm trickle of urine down his legs. “Don’t kill me, please. I swear, I don’t know anybody by that name. The only woman on board is named Starling, and she’s that way—” He strained to point to the ladder that went down to the crew’s quarters.

Starling, Ryan thought. Sterling. Of course she’d changed her name. She considered herself a fugitive slave. Tensely he commanded, “Where is she? How do I find her?”

“Down there. First door on the right. Sign outside says Captain.”

“Is he in there, too? Your captain?”

Norman managed to assure him no one else was on board.

Ryan didn’t want to hurt him but couldn’t take any chances on him sounding an alarm, alerting Erin. He would not risk losing her, now that he was sure he’d found her.

One swift blow to the back of his neck and the crewman slumped forward, unconscious.

Ryan hadn’t hit him hard, and the man wouldn’t be out long, but figured there was time to get to Erin before he came to.

He crossed the shadowed deck to hurry down the ladder.

Zachary waited in an alley next to the building that housed Morna Shipping Lines. He chuckled softly to think how Ryan’s obsession had made it so easy to stay close on his trail without being noticed. The fool hadn’t suspected all these months that he was being followed. Cocky, arrogant, his kind so smugly thought no one would ever challenge them.

But Ryan Youngblood, Zachary gloated, was soon going to learn different.

Anyone who had ever known Zachary Tremayne would not have recognized him as he waited for the ultimate glory of revenge at last. The voodoo had taken its toll on his gullible mind, and he was a man possessed. Wide, bloodshot eyes, a constant drool from his slightly parted lips, a lurch to his step, he was manipulated by the dementia within.

He had seen Ryan go on the ship, so he knew that was where Erin and Arlene were hiding. There had been no time to go back to where he’d left his pack mule on the outskirts of town and retrieve his black powder. But he prided himself on being smart, knew a bit about the ways of the world. All he had to do was break into a warehouse and find a cache there. He knew there would be ice in the river in the winter, and passage would have to be blasted clear for ships. The method would be the same as on the Rappahannock back home—saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal, all blended to make black powder.

Now, with a pail in each hand and a long fuse wrapped around one arm, he stepped out of the alley, cackling to himself, and crossed toward the ship.

Ryan quietly turned the doorknob but was not surprised to find it locked. He wasn’t about to call out, because if she was in there, she wouldn’t let him in, and she might even have a gun and, in a panic, start shooting. He had to keep reminding himself that, to her, he was the villain in all of this.

He braced himself against the wall opposite, gave a mighty lunge, and crashed through the door.

Erin screamed. She backed against the wall and screamed and screamed again. She picked up a half-empty bottle of rum and threw it at him. He ducked in time, and it smashed against the door.

“You’ve got to listen to me.” He started toward her, hands outstretched in a pleading gesture. “I had nothing to do with it. I didn’t know—”

That was all he had time to say, before he felt a sudden, sharp blow to the back of his head, then slumped to the floor.

Norman stepped across his body, held out his hand to her, and urged, “Come on. Let’s go. I don’t know what’s going on, but I saw another man out there, and we’ve got to get out of here now.”

Erin forced herself to obey, staring down at Ryan as she hurried out of the cabin. It had all happened so fast, but now she had a chance to escape. Gratefully, she took Norman’s hand and allowed him to lead her out.

“Up the ladder.” He pushed her in front of him. “Quick. The bastard hit me, thought he knocked me out, but I was just dazed. I followed him, got him just in time. Now we got to hurry ’cause there’s no telling what his partner will do if he catches us.”

Partner, Erin’s brain screamed. That had to be Nate Donovan. “You’re right. We have got to get out of here. We’ll hide till Captain O’Grady gets back…”

She pulled herself up and out on the deck. With Norman right behind her, they raced for the loading plank and ran down.

Reaching the pier, Norman cried, “Come on. Run!” He took off, not waiting for her. His job was done. He’d saved her from that madman. The rest was up to her, because he feared any second a bullet was going to hit him in the back.

Erin dared hesitate, to turn around and take one last look, as though saying good-bye forever to the past and any shreds of love she so foolishly harbored for Ryan. It had not been enough to banish her from his life, his home. Oh, no; he had to twist the knife of contempt a little deeper, denying her freedom forever. He had doggedly followed her, probably intent on shackling her himself, dragging her to an auction block, humiliating her, effecting the final degradation of the soul.

“Damn you, Ryan Youngblood!” The oath ripped its way out of her heart. “Goddamn you to hell—”

She froze.

Satan was not yet through with torment, for her eyes were playing tricks. Not enough to have the demon Ryan on her trail. Now the loathsome image of her stepfather loomed from up there, at the ship’s railing. He was waving a torch, and he began to run down the plank toward her.

“Don’t worry, it’s almost over,” he called as he came.

Erin could not force her legs to move, to carry her out of the nightmare. She could only watch in disbelief, trying to tell herself it was all a mirage. It could not be happening. Why would Zachary be here?

“I’ve got them both now,” he screamed in glee, leaning to set his torch to the wooden planking. “You’re mine now, and nobody will ever take you away from me again.”

Erin felt herself choking on the constricting knot of terror in her throat. He was setting fire to something. A trail of some kind. It was sputtering slowly but surely upward.

“Oh, God, no!” She came alive then, realized it was a fuse, and the ship was about to blow up, and Ryan was still on board.

She charged for the plank. Zachary leaped in her way. Possessed by strength and spirit she never knew she had, Erin gouged his eyes with her nails at the same instant she brought her knee up into his crotch, hard. “Get out of my way.”

He doubled over in anguish but still struggled after her as she continued toward the ship.

The acrid smell of the burning fuse struck her nostrils, urging her onward. She had no idea where he’d set the black powder, and there was no time to look in the darkness. The only trail was burning and might set off the explosion before she could find it.

She started down the ladder but tripped and fell. A sharp pain stabbed her ankle, but she dragged herself up, limping, forced herself to keep going.

Reaching the cabin, she dared feel a rush of hope to see that Ryan was up on his knees, struggling to stand. Grabbing him about the waist, she pulled him up, frantically shrieking, “Get out. Now. Zachary lit a fuse, and the ship is going to blow any second.”

It was like ice water in his face. He asked no questions, took no time to wonder what the hell Zachary Tremayne was doing there. “Let’s go.” He started toward the door, only to realize Erin had fallen, was clutching at her ankle, obviously in pain, unable to walk. With one swift movement, he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder and bolted out, down the hall and up the ladder.

Zachary had dragged himself on board and was staggering forward to try and block them from making it to the starboard railing but was not fast enough.

“I’m right behind you,” Ryan yelled, dropping her overboard. Without hesitation, he made good his promise and dove after her.

Erin hit the cold blackness, felt it
reaching out to wrap about her, pulling her downward into a clutching abyss. It would be so easy, her heart pleaded, to surrender to the peace.

She had saved Ryan’s life; he had, in turn, saved hers.

But why?

What was the struggle for?

She felt a hand twisting in her hair, pulling her upward, ever upward, as the ascent to reality began.

Then they were surfacing, and Ryan was dragging her along, swimming as hard as he could against the current, trying to get as far as possible from the ship.

And in the eerie light, just before it blew, they both saw him—Zachary—at the railing, waving and shrieking maniacally.

Then came the tremendous explosion.

Erin closed her eyes against the sight of flying bits of burning sail and wood all around her, grimaced against the sizzling sound as debris struck water.