The Lady of Bolton Hill (23 page)

So fast were they dashing down the pier that Clara barely noticed that the planking abruptly stopped, creating a dead end. With another two hundred yards to the shoreline, they could proceed no farther and their pursuers were gaining quickly. Manzetti had seen what was happening and had moved the wagon into place, but reaching him was hopeless.

The only remaining pier that reached the shore was on the opposite side of the old schooner they were stranded beside. “We’re going to have to climb aboard and make a leap for the opposite side,” Bane said. Their pursuers were still trying to navigate the correct path through the maze of piers to reach them, but it would only be seconds before they figured it out.

Bane grabbed a rope and pulled himself upward to scramble aboard the schooner. Clara didn’t know if she’d have the strength to haul herself up in a similar manner, but the sound of pounding footsteps on the planks behind her gave her the surge of energy she needed to heave herself up and swing a leg over the edge of the ship. Bane reached an arm around her waist and finished hauling her aboard. He pulled up all the ropes that dangled from the ship to the pier. “Quickly,” he said the moment the last rope had been pulled up before they dashed to the other side of the ship.

The pier was at least ten feet from the side of the ship and Clara’s heart plunged in defeat. “We’ll never make it,” she said, certain they would plunge into the bay no matter how hard they leapt away from the ship.

Bane grabbed her hand. “Trust me” was all he said. With the grace of a cat he leapt onto the lip of the gunwale and held a hand out for her to follow.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Clara said.

Bane didn’t budge. “This time you are just going to have to trust me,” Bane said. He bent at the waist and took her hand in his. Clara let him help her up on the gunwale of the ship. She could hear their pursuers trying to figure out a way to board the ship without the aid of the ropes.

“On the count of three, push off as hard as you can on your right foot,” Bane said. “We’ll keep our hands locked and make a flying leap for it. Either we both make it, or we both go in the drink.”

And at that moment, with hardened criminals just a few feet behind her and the prospect of breaking her neck on the pier below, that odd sense of calmness settled over Clara once again. She smiled and nodded her assent toward Bane, and when he counted to three, she leapt forward with all of her strength.

Just as she was landing on the pier, her hands scraping against the rough, dry surface of the planking, the crack of gunshots rang out, and Clara looked in horror as Bane collapsed against her, a bloom of blood spreading across his shirt.

Daniel heard the smattering crack of gunshots before they had even arrived at the harbor. He leaned low over his horse’s neck, urging the beast on faster. The thin moonlight made it almost impossible to see. Daniel squinted at the ghostly silhouette of ship riggings swaying in the harbor. Dozens of ships and a forest of masts lined the docks, making it impossible to tell which of these ships was
The Albatross
. They’d have to go ship to ship looking for it, just as they had done with the warehouses.

A clatter of horses’ hooves and wagon wheels penetrated his senses. Daniel wheeled his horse to a stop, his eyes widening in disbelief as a wagon careened toward him.

Manzetti?

The giant of a man was standing as he cracked the whip over the two wild-eyed horses pulling the wagon. Manzetti barely spared him a glance as he passed them. All he did was point to the pier and cry out, “Clara!” Daniel’s gaze swiveled out to the harbor, where he saw two figures in the dim light hurtling down the pier, one leaning heavily on the other. Before he could make sense of the pair, they stopped, and one of the men paused to toss something behind him before they turned and raced toward the shore.

The explosion lit up the sky. In that instant he could see everything perfectly, the silhouettes of the ships, the outlines of the planking, and two figures racing down the pier toward the shore, one man practically dragging the other.

Daniel spurred his horse forward to follow Manzetti, who pulled the wagon to a halt at the base of the pier. Manzetti leapt from the wagon to lower the back hatch.

Daniel gritted his teeth in frustration as he scanned the maze of ships and docking. “Where is Clara?” he demanded.

“On the pier! On the pier!” Manzetti shouted in reply.

Daniel squinted at the harbor, searching in vain for someone besides the two men running toward them. And then it happened. In the struggle to drag the man ashore, the cap fell from the smaller man’s head and a tumble of golden hair fell down her shoulders.

“Clara!”

The tremendous boom was so loud it hurt Clara’s ears and drove both her and Bane to their knees. She caught herself on the palm of her hand, and Clara felt a shudder run along the planking of the pier. A shower of sparks fell about them like falling snowflakes and Clara feared the pier was about to collapse. When she turned to look behind her, she could see the section of the pier surrounding the schooner was completely destroyed, making it impossible for their pursuers to follow them to shore.

“Keep moving,” Bane said. “I don’t know how long the rest of this pier will hold.”

A surge of excitement flooded through her. She and Bane had risked everything to take on the demons, and they had won. The shoreline was less than ten yards away. Clara braced her shoulder beneath Bane’s arm and ran toward Manzetti, who was waving frantically at them. Her eyes widened at the sight of two men standing alongside him. It was hard to see in the dim light, but it looked like . . . could that possibly be Daniel waiting on the shore? His stance was wide and he was staring at her as if she were a ghost, and it made Clara run faster down the pier.
He had come for her!

Before she reached the shore Daniel had snapped from his trance and bolted toward her. “Clara!”

He bounded to her and he cupped her face between both his hands. Whatever horrible anger had raged between them the night his house burned was obliterated by the pure relief of being alive. She ought to say something to reassure him, but the exuberance was still bursting inside her and she was shaking too hard to speak.

Manzetti showed up a moment later and scooped up Bane, taking him away to the back of the wagon.

At last Clara found her voice. “It’s okay, Daniel, we got away . . . we got away. . . .” At least that is what she tried to say; he had wrapped his arms around her so tightly it was hard to draw a breath. Her feet left the ground as she felt herself being rocked in Daniel’s strong arms.

“Oh, Clara, I love you more than life itself, and I’m getting tired of you leaving me.”

Tears pricked the back of her eyes. “I love you, too, Daniel. I was afraid I would never be able to tell you that.” His arms tightened around her, and she felt his ragged breathing against her neck. She wanted to stay here within the warmth and safety of his arms forever. She wanted to laugh and cry and listen to Daniel tease her. Tears spilled down her face, for even as relief washed through her, she knew she and Daniel would return to a life with all their old problems of faith and mistrust between them. But at least the Lord had given her the opportunity to try to repair that damage.

She swiped the tears from her face. “Alex is hurt and we’ve got to get him out of here,” she said once she was able to pull out of Daniel’s embrace. He gave a quick nod and strode with her to the wagon. By the time they reached the shore, Manzetti had already dumped Bane into the back of the wagon and was holding the reins of Daniel’s horse, which was shifting and stamping nervously in the street. Daniel mounted the horse and then stretched a hand down toward her.

“Hop on up, Clara. You can ride behind me.”

Clara paused just for an instant and cast a glance at Alex, who lay propped in the bed of the wagon. Clyde was squatting beside him, applying pressure to the wound in the boy’s side. There was no room for Clara. The horse was twitchy, still spooked by the explosion. It would make the horse even madder when she tried to mount up behind Daniel, and she gazed longingly at the small seat in the front of the wagon.

“Daniel, I’m afraid of horses.”

A pained burst of laughter came from the back of the wagon.

“What are you laughing about, brat?” Manzetti growled.

“Clara,” Bane gasped. “After all you’ve been through in the past few days, you are too afraid to get on the back of a horse?”

It did seem ridiculous.

Clara’s gaze flitted between Daniel and the horse. She straightened her shoulders. “I can do this,” she said. “Help me up.”

Bane tensed, struggling to remain still while the cart rocked with each bump along the cobblestone streets. Every jolt and lurch of the cart sent white-hot pain spiraling through his body. The man named Clyde, who Manzetti said was a doctor, kept a hand pressed over the bullet wound in Bane’s waist. Maybe the pressure was helping, but from Bane’s point of view, the hand pressing his wound was torture.

Just as bad as the pain was listening to Tremain gush over Clara. Ever since they had left the docks, there had been a steady stream of conversation coming from the pair riding on horseback beside the cart. It sounded like Tremain had it bad. He kept vowing never to let Clara ten feet out of his sight, telling her how beautiful she was, how brave, how precious.

“How long am I going to have to listen to that syrupy mush?” Bane asked Clyde.

“Tell me about it. She is my sister” was all he said.

Bane tried not to laugh. “I suppose that makes it even worse.” But the doctor wasn’t paying attention to him; he was taking Bane’s pulse and concentrating on keeping steady pressure on the howling mass of agony in his side. Bane closed his eyes, trying to blot out the blinding joy on Clara’s face when she saw Daniel Tremain again. Bane had no business hankering after someone like Clara. It was not the fact that she was so much older than he that was the problem; it was simply that Clara was way too good for someone like him. That didn’t stop the longing, though.

The cart hit a pothole, and Bane was embarrassed by the whimper that escaped his clenched teeth. Waves of pain rolled from his stomach, causing the beginning of a convulsion.

“Are you going to throw up?” the doctor asked.

The agony made it too difficult to reply. “Nod if you want me to roll you over,” Clyde said. “I don’t want you choking.”

As bad as he felt, Bane didn’t want the doctor to roll him over. Turning on his side would cause the pain to rip him wide open. “No,” he managed to gasp. “I’m fine.” He tried to concentrate on the stars overhead, anything other than dwell on the seething pain that radiated through his entire body.

Freedom had come to him tonight . . . hadn’t it? No matter how grim his fate looked at this particular moment, he never had to return to that sinister mansion in the Vermont woods again. He had broken away from the Professor’s iron fist and was now free to make his own way in the world. It was different than his original plan, but it was better. A smile curved his mouth, and a feeling of joy started to bloom as Bane experienced the meaning of
freedom
for the first time in his life.