Midnight Star (35 page)

“All right.”

“Swear to me, else I’ll string you up by your toes.”

He felt her hand stroke over his chest, downward to his belly. When her fingers lightly closed over him, she said very sweetly, “I swear . . . and I’d rather have you do other things to me.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, somewhat in awe at his body’s immediate reaction, “I’d thought I was dead for the night!”

* * *

They left Grass Valley at ten o’clock the following morning. The summer day was bright and warm, not a cloud in the clear sky.

“We’ll arrive in Nevada City in an hour,” he said, turning in his saddle to face her.

“Yes,” she said. “You already told me.”

“There’s something else that occurred to me. Remember the message I got telling me there was trouble at my mine in Downieville? It was obviously another ruse. Doubtless Baron suggested it. Montgomery probably expected that I would leave you in San Francisco. When I brought you along, he had to make other plans, likely again with Baron’s aid. The man is intelligent, I don’t doubt that. And an intelligent man is a dangerous man.”

“But he is also a man who has no experience outside the bounds of civilization. I remember as a child that he never hunted. Nor can I recall ever seeing him with a rifle or a gun.”

“He killed your father.”

“Yes, an overdose of laudanum.”

There was silence between them for several minutes. “I do have a plan, Chauncey,” Delaney said. “I don’t particularly like your part in it, but there are practical considerations, such as trying to force a man out of town at gunpoint. I doubt I could pull that off. However, you must promise me that you will do exactly as I tell you.”

She gave him a long, thoughtful look. “You are also an intelligent man. And I trust you, now that you’ve admitted to my true worth. I give you my word.”

“There is still an element of danger.”

“I have lived with the thought of danger for the past six months. At least now I can look forward to eliminating it once and for all.”

“Very well,” he said. “Listen.”

Paul Montgomery jerked his watch from his vest pocket and stared at it again. Where the hell was Baron? He shoved the watch away again and gazed about the small saloon, empty at this hour save for several drinkers and diehard gamblers at the roulette wheel. He felt as if he’d died and gone to hell. Awful place. Sawdust floor, gawdy lewd paintings of sprawled naked women over the long mahogany bar, circular wooden tables that he wouldn’t have allowed in his stables.

Where was Baron?

He wanted the wretched business over with. He wanted to go home, where he’d spend the rest of his life in peace and security. He’d traveled all the way to this godforsaken land to ensure it. He cursed softly, remembering his impotent fury when Elizabeth had escaped the carriage wheels in Plymouth. It hadn’t taken him long to realize what he must do. If only Saxton didn’t have
powerful relatives in England! But he knew what would happen if he allowed her to live. He shivered at the thought of the Duke and Duchess of Graffton. He’d thought about leaving England and moving to the Continent to live like a king for the rest of his life. But it wouldn’t work, he knew. Once Elizabeth discovered the truth, she wouldn’t rest until she’d avenged her father. He had no choice but to remove her permanently.

And of course, there was the money, so much of it, and all his. Too bad Elizabeth had married, for now the Penworthys couldn’t inherit even at her death, and he wouldn’t be able to collect a healthy percentage. Married to Delaney Saxton! He could only pray that Elizabeth hadn’t discovered too soon that her husband wasn’t the evil villain she’d believed him to be. He swallowed nervously at the thought of a letter already posted to the duke and duchess informing them of his treachery. No, dammit, he wasn’t too late! He couldn’t be too late!

He lowered his fisted hand to the rough tabletop. If only Hoolihan hadn’t bungled the job! If only Saxton hadn’t captured him and forced him to talk! If only . . .

Where was Baron?

He had the final payment in his pocket. His valise was packed.

“Sir? Mr. Montgomery?”

Montgomery turned to face a skinny boy garbed in too short flannel trousers and bright red wool shirt. “Yes? What is it you want?”

“I’ve got a letter for you, sir.”

Paul Montgomery stared at the folded sheet
for several moments. He dug into his vest pocket and withdrew a coin and gave it to the boy.

Slowly he opened it and read:
Montgomery, Saxton is dead. We’re holding the girl at the old Hopkins mine just a mile south of Nevada City. You can kill her. It won’t take much. Baron.

Damn!

He reread the short note. Damn Baron! Bloody squeamish coward!

“Boy!” He rose quickly, but the lad was gone. Damn Baron! Why was he playing this wretched game? Why?
You can kill her. It won’t take much.
He shuddered, knowing they’d raped her. Why couldn’t they simply finish the job? God, he’d wanted it quick and clean. He’d tried; he’d really tried.

“Damned little bitch! She has more lives than a cat!”

Montgomery sat back down and drew off his spectacles. He slowly and thoroughly wiped the glass lenses with his handkerchief. It was a habit that always soothed him.

Saxton is dead.

He felt sorry about that. But, he repeated to himself silently yet again, he had no choice. No choice at all.

I’ve got to kill her! How? Put a bullet in her heart? Throw her over a cliff? Strangle her?

He felt his gorge rise. He wasn’t a bloody savage barbarian like those wretched Sydney Ducks and Hoolihan and Baron. And Baron
was
a savage barbarian. Why hadn’t he killed her?

Damn Baron to hell!

He rose somewhat shakily to his feet, his steps
becoming more purposeful and confident as he strode to the swinging doors of the saloon.

The Hopkins mine had been abandoned a year before by its disconsolate owner, Jeb Hopkins, Delaney told Chauncey, to pass the time. What Hopkins had believed to be a vast gold-bearing quartz vein hadn’t appeared. Another Ophir Hill he’d thought it would be. But it wasn’t. There simply wasn’t enough gold to separate from the quartz.

The main tunnel and the huge shaft dug into the bowels of the mountain weren’t yet in ruin.

“It’s damp in here,” Chauncey said, hugging her arms around her. “And cold.”

“Yes, I know. Poor old Jeb is working alongside many other miners today, over at the Ophir Hill Ledge. The underground workings will be something to see someday. He’ll be here soon, Chauncey. Everything will be all right, I promise you.”

“I just want it to be over with,” she said, trying to smile.

“Baron!”

Chauncey leapt to her feet, but Delaney laid a restraining hand on her arm. “Easy, love,” he said in a low voice.

“Baron! Where are you?”

“It’s him,” Chauncey whispered, Montgomery’s voice filtering through her mind back to long-ago childhood memories. She raised wide, dilated eyes to his face.

“Listen to me. I can’t take the chance that he knows Baron’s voice. I want you to scream now, as loud as you can.”

Chauncey moistened her dry lips. She let out a shrieking yell that reverberated off the walls of the mine tunnel.

Delaney stepped back into the darkened tunnel. He withdrew his gun from its holster and held it easily in his hand, pointed to the mine entrance.

Montgomery’s voice came softly now, closer. “Elizabeth?”

Chauncey whimpered, then cried out again.

“Bring her out, Baron. I’m not coming inside that hellhole.”

Chauncey sent her husband a look of panic and consternation.

Think, you fool!
“Baron’s not feelin’ good, sir!” Did he sound like Jasper? Please, God, let it sound so to Montgomery. “He’s pukin’ his guts out. The girl’s nearly a goner. Give us our money and she’s all yours!”

“Bridges, is that you?”

Bridges. Jasper Bridges! How kind that name sounds.

“Yep. Ye’re wastin’ time.”

Delaney held his breath. He heard footsteps drawing nearer and nearer. Keep coming, you bastard. Keep coming!

He nodded to Chauncey, and she cried out again. Surely, she thought frantically, he can hear my heart pounding.

Montgomery appeared in the tunnel entrance. “Elizabeth,” he said, taking a step inside.

“I’m here.”

“As am I, you miserable son of a bitch.” Delaney stepped forward, his gun firmly trained on Montgomery.

Montgomery had no time to pull the derringer from his vest pocket.

“No, don’t try it, Montgomery.”

“Where’s Baron?” he asked, his mind fastening on one fact he could grasp.

“Neither he nor Jasper concern you further,” Delaney said.

Montgomery drew a deep breath, his eyes adjusting to the gloom of the mine entrance. “The short message—’twas from you,” he said.

“Yes. I had to get you out of Nevada City.”

Chauncey had said nothing; she was staring at the man she’d known all her life, trusted implicitly until just months ago. Oddly, he looked much older than she remembered. And not as heavy as she remembered his being. His eyes shone through the thick lenses, and she could see his fear and . . . resignation. She asked very softly, her voice breaking, “Why did you kill my father?”

Paul Montgomery turned slowly to face her. “I had no choice,” he said simply. “It seems that all choice has been wrenched from me since that time.”

“No choice,” she repeated. “But my father loved you! Trusted you! I called you ‘uncle’!”

“Your father was something of a fool,” Montgomery said, contempt entering his voice. “All his life he assumed that money was there for the asking. Only the best for Sir Alec! While he was enjoying himself at Oxford, I was slaving as a damned clerk with barely enough food in my belly! Oh yes, he was my friend. He discovered quickly enough that he needed me, needed my ability to handle his money. He even lowered himself enough to call me by my first name after
only five years of acquaintance. But never was I invited to dine with his fancy guests! And if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been raised so very well. All the finest you had! Beautiful home, servants, stables! Damn you, why didn’t you marry Sir Guy! Why?”

She gave an odd, strained laugh. “No choice,” she said, her voice a thread. “I was also raised to hold honor dear. A penniless young lady doesn’t hold a gentleman to his offer, you know.”

“I didn’t want to kill you too, Elizabeth, but—”

“I know,” Delaney interrupted coldly, “you again had no choice. You knew she would discover the truth.”

“That’s right,” Montgomery said in a strangely calm voice.

Delaney could see Chauncey’s pale face, see her eyes dilated. He had to spare her this. He said abruptly, “Chauncey, I want you to leave now. Go wait by the horses.”

“But—”

“Go now. Obey me.”

Paul Montgomery said nothing. He watched her straighten her shoulders and dust off her skirt. She didn’t look at him, merely walked from the mine into the sunlight. She never looked back.

Chauncey carefully placed one foot before the other, her eyes seeing the rocky ground, her mind blank. She reached the nickering horses and reached her hand out involuntarily to stroke Dolores’ silky nose. The mare butted against her shoulder and Chauncey moved closer, pressing her face against the mare’s neck.

There was one gunshot. Only one.

She felt tears sting her eyes. She realized they weren’t for Paul Montgomery; she had already cried for him and what he’d done months ago. They were for her husband. What he had been forced to do to protect her.

Suddenly she felt his warm hands clasp her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said quietly. He turned her against him and held her close.

“No,” she said in a fierce whisper. “It is not for you to be sorry.”

Delaney cupped her face between his hands and looked deep in her eyes. “It’s over.”

“Yes. I have taken so much from you, Del, so much! Please forgive me.”

His hands tightened about her face. “There is nothing to forgive. You are my wife, the most important person in my life. You will never forget that, never.”

She closed her eyes a moment against the intensity of his gaze. She whispered softly, “No, I shan’t forget.”

He hugged her tightly. “Now, Chauncey, let’s go home.”

Home to San Francisco, to live in joy and happiness, never again to know fear.

“Yes,” she said, smiling now, “let’s go home.”