“I’d as soon be drowned in the Ashley as to become your mistress, my lord!”
He shook his head, smiling still, though his lip suddenly curled contemptuously. “Very well... have it your way.” He sounded bored now. He started away, and then stoppedabruptly, turning once more. “Though perhaps I might still persuade you as yet... You didn’t happen to wonder how Daniel Moore knew to arrest the Mistral, did you? Or why he would think to suspect Christian? Did you wonder if he knew of Hawk? Aye,” he replied to his own question when her eyes widened. He rubbed his chin pensively. “I see that perhaps you have contemplated such things.” He smiled benevolently. “Well, then, you might be interested in knowing that I also know about Ben. Tell me, how is his limp now? Does he fare well?”
Jessie’s face paled.
“Improved, I hope.” He lifted a brow. “I’d like to see him walk tall and proud to the gibbet, m’dear.” He turned from her once more, leaving Jessie confused and speechless. “Oh,” he said, turning to address her yet again. “And you will give my felicitations to Hawk, will you not? that is, if you ever happen to see him again.” With a dirty little laugh, he turned and strode confidently to the door.
“Wait!” Jessie implored. She could not simply stand by and see Christian hanged—and Ben! She shuddered to think what punishment would be meted them both. “I’ll go with you.”
“I rather thought you would,” he said with little surprise, and laughed hideously.
Despite the waythings had been left between them, Christian found himself eager to return to Shadow Moss—to see Jessie.
While her silence had not been promising, he realized, neither was it hopeless, and bearing that in mind, he made his way quickly up the staircase, his footfalls echoing throughout.
“M’lord!” Quincy exclaimed, appearing in the landing above, his face contorting miserably. Christian halted in his step, sensing something was wrong.
“’Tis Miss Jessie!”
Christian took a step upward, then another, staring expectantly at Quincy as he ascended the stairwell. The hair at his nape prickled.
“St. John was here, my lord.”
Christian’s jaw grew taut and his eyes began to burn with fury.
“He took her with him, my lord.”
Christian halted in his step. “What the hell do you mean he took her with him?”
“She didn’t go willingly,” he said, and then, as quickly as he was able, related all that he’d overheard.
“When?”
“Not long ago, m’lord—just before you arrived.”
Even before Quincy was finished speaking, Christian had turned and was bolting down the stairwell, racing for the docks.
“I hopeyou’re not overly attached to him,” St. John said, lifting an imperious brow as he rowed. “I cannot simply allow him to go free.”
Cold prickles swept down Jessie’s spine.
She knew precisely to whom he was referring, but asked nevertheless, “Him?”
His smile was forbearing. “Hawk, of course.”
“But you swore you’d leave him be if I returned with you, my lord—you gave me your word! Would you break it now?”
“I know what I said, Jessamine... but it is out of my hands, m’dear. Hawk is a traitor to the Crown and he’ll hang for his crimes. ’Tis as simple as that—Moore would never set him free. Certainly not now that he has proof against him at last.” He shrugged noncommittally. “Ben, on the other hand, is another matter...”
Jessie resisted the sudden uncontrollable urge to fly at him and thrust him overboard—lying, misbegotten cur that he was! She wanted to tell him that Christian had proof of his innocence—at least this time he did—but what if St. John had already named him as Hawk? She had to know. “Have you accused him as yet?”
“Not as yet,” he admitted. “There was no one to come forward till now... not with Hawk free to wreak his vengeance upon them. Now, of course, with him in gaol, it shouldn’t take much to convince McCarney to step forward. He wants revenge, you see, because Hawk killed his brother. Still”—he smiled coldly—”you must take comfort in the fact that your dear cousin is free... for now,” he added in cautioning tones. “Though perhaps he shan’t be for long if you don’t prove worthy of my troubles. Perhaps you should remember that,” he taunted, his face flushing slightly. “Perhaps you should remember that tonight.”
Jessie shuddered with revulsion. Panic burst through her, for in that instant she knew Ben would never be safe. St. John had lied to her. And Christian—she couldn’t bear to stand aside and see him hanged. Well, she wasn’t about to! She had to warn them. Her mind raced. But how?
She glanced around wildly, and to her surprise, she spotted a small boat approaching swiftly from behind them. Her heart leapt, for somehow she knew it was Christian. Her gaze reverted to St. John, and she wondered if he’d spied the skiff as well, but when he continued with his crowing, she decided he was too full of self-admiration to be aware of anything but his own voice ashe spoke. If only she could catch him unawares... jump into the river... but her clothing would make it impossible to out swim him should he decide to come after her...
She worried her lip, for jumping seemed her only option. She forced herself to inhale slowly and calm her ragged nerves.
