The Gallows Bride (31 page)

From her
position on the ground, Jemima watched as Peter and Scraggan traded
blows. Although Peter was bigger and heavier, Scraggan was smaller
and able to duck lower, avoiding many of the fists Peter rained
down on him with fancy footwork.

She was
unsure what to do or where to go for help, when she became aware
that the fog had started to lift and she could see more of the
coastal path and the surrounding area.

“
Over here,” Harriett whispered, tugging on Jemima’s
elbow.

Brushing
tears out of her eyes, Jemima pushed to her feet and, through the
haze, spotted Eliza, sitting on the ground next to Edward a short
distance down the path. They had both clearly heard everything that
had been discussed.

Edward’s
eyes were burning with fury, Eliza’s full of gentle
sympathy.

Jemima
stumbled across the uneven surface and quickly began to remove
their bindings. She would have to deal with Peter’s revelations
later, but right now getting everyone off the cliff alive and in
one piece was more important.

“
You all go to the post masters office as instructed, and wait
for us there. I’ll help Peter,” Edward said, giving the ladies a
rough push onward.

“
Go!” he ordered roughly when they made no attempt to follow
orders and simply stared at the men still grappling on the cliff
top.

Grunts,
snorts and the sounds of flesh meeting flesh were the only sounds
that could be heard above the roar of the surf as it snapped
hungrily at the bottom of the cliff, waiting for its prey to
arrive.

The
ladies held hands and stood together, going nowhere until they knew
that Scraggan had been overpowered.

“
Are you all right?” Eliza whispered, studying the paleness of
her sister’s cheeks with concern.

“
I’ll have to be, won’t I?” Jemima replied, offering the other
ladies a brave smile that did little to reassure either of them.
“Are you? What happened?” She asked Eliza quietly.

“
Scraggan knocked Edward out with something, then tied him
up.” She hastened to reassure Jemima when she gasped in horror. “I
was just overpowered. He’s small,” she nodded toward Scraggan, “but
strong.”

“
He didn’t mean it, you know,” Eliza said after several
moments of silence.

“
Yes, he did,” Jemima argued. “I can’t believe I was so stupid
as to believe that he came after me because he cared for
me.”

“
Give him a chance to explain,” Harriett suggested, sharing a
glance with Eliza. Although she had known Peter for only a couple
of hours, his affection for Jemima had been clear to see. She
didn’t know much about the human heart, and romance, but she knew
that if a man looked at her the same way that Peter looked at
Jemima, she would believe it was love.

“
You heard him. We all did. It all fits now,” Jemima sniffed.
“He was after the information I carried.”

“
I don’t believe it,” Eliza argued. “He was bluffing. Trying
to reduce your importance in his life so Scraggan’s wouldn’t kill
you.”

Jemima
shook her head, unable to think. Although the fog around them had
begun to lift, the fog deep in her head was still there, blocking
out all sensible thought.

“
Jemima, I was there when Peter returned from the gaol on the
night they tried to save you from the gallows. I also saw the state
he was in the day after when he was grieving for you. He was
drinking to the point of unconsciousness to try to avoid the pain
your death caused him.”

Jemima
hadn’t been there, and had little to go on. Events had happened so
fast since that day that she had barely had the time to think, much
less ask anyone about what happened while she had been
unconscious.

“
He was grieving for someone he cares about very deeply,
Jemima. You don’t feel the kind of pain he did for someone you
considered a source of information or who you could bed for a
while,” Eliza shook her head slowly, a knowing look on her face.
“Whatever he was up to, you need to give him a chance to
explain.”

While
she had been talking, she had not removed her gaze from the two men
still wrestling.

“
Oh God, is that a gun?” Harriett gasped, catching sight of
the brief flash of metal held between Peter and Scraggans hands.
They watched in horror as Scraggan managed to wrench it out of
Peter’s hand. It pointed at Peter’s head for a brief moment, only
for Peter to slam Scraggan’s wrist painfully down on a jagged rock.
Scraggan cried out in pain and immediately released the weapon,
dropping it over the cliff.

Jemima
ignored Edward’s glare when he glanced back, furious to discover
they had ignored his orders and chosen to remain in danger. He shot
them a warning look before turning to the fighting men.

They
were too close to the cliff edge for Edward to wrench them apart.
If any one of them lost their balance, they could all go
over.

He
wanted to shout encouragement, but knew this wasn’t a boxing match.
This was very real, and very deadly.

With
little opportunity to do anything else, Edward stood back and
watched, ready to pounce forward if Peter moved too close to the
edge. As far as he was concerned, Scraggan could drop to his death,
but Peter wasn’t going to die today.

Blows
were traded, and blood flowed. The fighting was raw and brutal.
Peter was awash with wave after wave of pain that was as furious as
the waves below them.

Eventually tiredness began to affect both of them. Briefly
Peter wondered if they should just take their chances and roll over
the edge. The person surviving when they hit the waves was the
winner, but his inherent sense of fairness demanded that Scraggan
not find an easy way out; not after the misery he had caused
everyone. He deserved to go to the gallows.

With
most of his anger now subsided, Peter placed one large hand on the
wiry man’s throat, watching dispassionately as he began to gasp for
air.

For one
brief moment their eyes met. Scraggan’s gaze filled with fear as he
realised that he was at the mercy of a stronger man. A man who
could kill him if he so chose.

“
Enough,” Peter growled when Scraggan’s face turned puce, and
his eyes began to roll. “You won’t die today.”

Hauling
himself upright, he grabbed the gasping man by the front of his
shirt dragging him off the ground. Drawing back one large fist, he
landed a final blow with a satisfying crunch before releasing his
hold.

He
stood, bent over at the waist, and stared at the unconscious man at
his feet for several moments.

“
You alright?” Edward asked, eying Peter’s bloodied face with
concern before he flipped Scraggan over and tied his wrists behind
his back with the same ties Scraggan had used on him.

Peter
stood upright, every part of him aching. He watched as Eliza and
Harriett rushed toward them. Eliza threw herself at Edward, who
swept her into his arms and murmured reassurances into her hair.
Harriett held the remaining strap and handed it to Peter who took
some small comfort from gagging Scraggan. He had heard enough from
the smuggler to last him a lifetime.

It
wasn’t lost on anyone that Jemima hadn’t approached, but had
remained alone staring out to sea.

Peter
was soaking wet from lying on the wet stones, frozen from the cold
mist, and was bruised from head to foot, but none of that mattered
as much as the desolate vision Jemima made standing by herself on
the windswept cliff-top, her cloak billowing out behind her as she
stared blankly out at the vast expanse of ocean.

Peter
slowly walked toward her, knowing he had a lot of explaining to do.
He knew from the way she held herself, that she was deeply
distressed. Her arms were folded across her waist, as though
helping to hold her upright. Although she wasn’t crying, there was
a desolation in her eyes that was deeper than anything he had seen
before.

He
looked for the right words but came up empty.

The
importance of getting her to understand, to believe him, was simply
too much for his battered mind to deal with.

With a
sigh of frustration at his own inadequacies, Peter stalked the last
few paces to stand before her, unsurprised when she didn’t
acknowledge him. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t speak past the fear
in his throat.

The
silence lengthened between them for several moments, until Peter
couldn’t stand it any longer.

“
Jemima,” he whispered, trying to find the right words. “I
love you,” he whispered.

He
mentally cursed at the solemn look she gave him. He could cope with
her shouting and ranting at him, but the silent hurt was harder to
bear.

She
didn’t return the declaration, just looked at him, doubt clearly
written in her eyes.

“
We had better go,” she whispered, moving back up the path to
the others.

“
Jemima, please? Listen to me,” Peter asked, cursing when she
ignored him and walked away.

“
What will we do with him?” Jemima asked, glaring down at a
now conscious, if dazed Scraggan when she drew close. It helped her
to focus on something other than the feelings churning inside
her.

“
We need to take him to Padstow and hand him over to the
Redcoats. You ladies can go to Tintagel and wait in the carriage
while Peter and I take him. There is no sense in you traipsing back
to Padstow unnecessarily.” Edward didn’t add that Jemima didn’t
look as though she could make it across the cliff path, let alone
cover the several miles to Tintagel.

“
I’m going back to Padstow. Given all the misery and suffering
he has caused, I want to see him behind bars. If that’s on the back
of a prisoners’ cart on his way to Bodmin, then so be it.” Her
voice was flat and emotionless as she stared down at Scraggan
before dismissing him with an indelicate snort of
contempt.

At that moment she couldn’t really think of anything. Her
mind just wouldn’t form thoughts. Eliza’s cautionary words that she
needed to listen to Peter’s explanation before she judged him, came
flooding back to her, and she accepted the wisdom behind them. But
they were mingled with Peter’s cruel confirmation of the real
reason why he had chased after her when she had left Devon all
those months ago. Every word he had spoken had fitted so many boxes
for her, that she couldn’t really see any other explanation. She
longed to cry out in denial, to beat his chest, and bruise him some
more but something held her back. Some inner part of her simply
refused to accept what she had heard with her own ears. Surely she
couldn’t have been
that
wrong about him. She wasn’t sure what to
believe.

She
needed some time to think and, if walking to Padstow meant people
would leave her alone with her thoughts, then she would walk to
Padstow.

She
didn’t wait to see Edward haul Scraggan to his feet by his shirt
and push him roughly in front of him. Jemima was already walking
some distance away, head down, clearly lost in thought and not
wanting to talk to anyone.

Eliza
glanced sympathetically at Peter and offered him a small smile.
“Don’t worry, she’ll listen to you, just give her some time.”
Although she tried to be positive, she had never seen this side of
her sister before, and it scared her.

Had her
ordeal in Derby Gaol changed her so much? Eliza had also been
near-death in much the same way as Jemima had; being rescued at the
very last moment before death snatched her into its ruthless grasp.
But Jemima’s ordeal had been tainted by her hellish experience in
the condemned cell, and thinking she was going to be hanged. The
cruelty of it wasn’t lost on her, and she was worried about the
long-term damage it had done to Jemima, who was usually so gentle
and kind-hearted.

“
I lied,” Peter assured her, his eyes meeting Eliza’s. “I
followed her from Devon for no other reason than I loved her from
the second I laid eyes on her in the dining room.”

“
Then you need to tell her, but would you take a word of
advice?” She lifted a brow at him in query, her eyes telling him
that he would be a fool not to listen. “Let her have some time to
herself, then speak to her later when we are safely tucked up in a
tavern, with no threat from Scraggan. Get him out of your lives
once and for all, and then explain everything. Leave no stone
unturned, no truth hidden.” She threw him a cautionary look. “If
you don’t, you will most certainly lose her.” With that, she
quickened her pace to catch up with Edward, who was shoving
Scraggan ahead of him with a little too much enthusiasm.

Peter
watched her go, and caught the sympathetic smile Harriett gave him
as she too increased her pace to walk beside Edward and
Eliza.

Briefly
Peter wondered where Harold was, before the feline stalked
haughtily past, his tail flicking angrily before he ran to catch up
with his mistress. Clearly the moggy wanted to go home
too.

With a
deep sigh, Peter wearily followed. He too had a lot of thinking to
do, mainly about how to keep the woman he loved from leaving him
and taking his heart with her.