Keys jangled, seeming to appear in the scarecrow’s jaundiced palm from thin air. She plucked them from his fingers and made her way down the cellar steps.
“Follow,” Evan barked at his hostages.
Twin clicks of pistols ratcheting to the ready echoed in the still chamber, and then three pairs of boots slapped against the stone steps behind her. It was going to be a full house.
When she reached the bottom of the stairwell, she set the strongbox in the dirt. She went straight to her cousin and unlocked the iron shackle fettered around her thin ankle.
Emeline’s terrified gaze went from Susan to her former captors to the manacle lying open and harmless at her bare feet. She touched Susan’s cheek with cold, trembling fingers, then put her face in her hands and cried.
“You’re free,” Susan swore, enveloping her shaking cousin in a strong hug. “I promise you. Nobody’s going to hurt you again.” She hugged Lady Emeline tighter, stroking her hair as she sobbed heartwrenchingly silent cries on Susan’s shoulder. “You can live with me, and be safe. I swear on my life.”
It was all Susan could do to keep her own tears from doing more than stinging at the corners of her burning eyes. But she had to be strong, for cousin Emeline’s sake. She couldn’t let her believe for the tiniest second there was any risk of being chained again, all by herself, in the dark.
“You’ll never be alone again,” Susan promised her fiercely. “You have me now. Forever.”
Lady Emeline kissed Susan’s cheek. She leaned back long enough to scrub at her dirt- and tear-streaked face, then linked arms with Susan and stared up at her with an expression Susan had never seen on her cousin’s tormented face.
Hope... and trust.
Susan smiled and squeezed her arm. Cousin Emelinebelievedin her. This time, she would be worthy of it.
“I’ve got to find Forrester,” Evan said, without averting his gaze from his two captives. “Before the knave gets away clean.”
“Go find him, then,” came the scarecrow’s scratchy taunt. “We’ll wait for ye.”
Evan growled and shoved the barrels of his pistols deeper into their stomachs.
The men began to argue.
Susan lifted the open manacle from the floor and caught cousin Emeline’s eye. Both scarecrow and giant were too focused on the pistols aimed at their midsections to pay attention to two mere women kneeling upon the dirt floor. Susan handed the fetter to Emeline, who nodded in understanding. Susan reached out, caught hold of another manacle, fumbled with the keys. At last, it fell open.
They edged closer to the men’s feet, Susan toward the giant, and Emeline toward the scarecrow. The chains just barely allowed the distance—but it would be enough.
“Now!” Susan cried, and snapped the iron band closed around the giant’s thick ankle.
Emeline did the same to the scarecrow, but her wasted limbs couldn’t move backward fast enough to avoid the scarecrow kicking her directly in the face with his manacled boot. Evan smashed his fist in the scarecrow’s belly, and followed that impact with an elbow to his nose.
Susan scrambled to Emeline’s side, terrified what she’d find when she lifted her cousin’s bowed head.
Despite a rapidly forming bruise across her cheek, Emeline was grinning in victory. She gave Susan a joyous hug.
Horse hooves clomped overhead. Susan’s army had arrived at last.
She helped Emeline to her feet, then tugged at Evan’s sleeve. “Leave them. Let’s tell the Runners about Forrester.”
Evan hesitated as if the thought of putting a bullet in their ribs was too delicious to ignore (and, truly, Susan was of the same opinion) but turned and shoved his pistols back into his waistband.
“Get the strongbox,” he said, swinging Emeline into his arms. “I’ll carry your cousin outside. She’s been down here long enough.”
Susan grabbed the iron box and raced up the stairs after them. The number of people outside had doubled. The Bow Street Runners had in fact sent a militia to Bournemouth. Susan was convinced every inhabitant was also present in the garden.
Including Gordon Forrester.
“What’s that, now?” he was saying with a little laugh. “Pirates? Not in a quiet beach town like this.” The magistrate flashed the newcomers his hallmark dimples.
They were patently unimpressed.
One raised his voice. “For the last time, where is Miss Stanton?”
