ations 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.