Back up the path.
Tony was at his heels almost immediately. Following as fast as her skirts would allow, she could see that he could have overhauled Sir Freddie anywhere along the upward slope. Instead, he waited until Sir Freddie gained the level stretch beside the gaping mine shaft before he reached out, spun Sir Freddie around, and plowed his fist into his face.
She heard the sickening thud all the way down the path where she was laboring upward. The first thud was followed by more; she couldn’t see either man but felt sure Sir Freddie was on the receiving end. She hoped every blow hurt as badly as they sounded. Gaining the level stretch, she looked, just in time to see Tony slam his fist into Sir Freddie’s jaw.
Something cracked. Sir Freddie fell back, onto a pile of rubble. He slumped, winded, but quick as a flash he grabbed a rock and flung it at Tony’s head.
She screamed, but Tony hadn’t taken his eye from Sir Freddie. He ducked the missile, then, lips curling in a snarl, bent, grabbed Sir Freddie, hauled him to his feet, punched him once in the face, grabbed him again, shook him—and flung him backward into the mine shaft.
There was a huge splash; water sprayed out.
Tony stood where he was, chest heaving until he’d regained his breath, then he stepped forward and looked down just as Alicia joined him.
She cast one brief look at Sir Freddie, spluttering, desperately searching for handholds on the slippery shaft wall, then looked at him. Reached out with both hands and touched him. “Are you all right?”
He looked into her eyes, searched her face—saw she was far more concerned for his well-being than hers— and felt something inside him give. “Yes.” He briefly closed his eyes. If she was all right, he was, too.
Opening his eyes, he reached for her, drew her to him. Wrapped her in his arms and gloried in the reality of her warmth against him. Cheek against the silk of her hair, he sent a heartfelt thank-you to fate and the gods, then, easing his hold on her, looked down at Sir Freddie, fighting to hold his head above the dank water. “What do you want to do with him?”
She looked down. Her eyes narrowed. “He told me he’d killed Ellicot, and he was going to kill me. I say we let him drown—poetic justice.”
“No!” The protest dissolved into a gurgle as Sir Freddie’s terror made his fingers slip. “No,” came again as he scrabbled back to the surface. “Torrington,” he gasped,
“you can’t leave me here. What will you tell your masters?”
Tony looked down at him. “That you’d sunk before I reached you?”
Folding her arms, Alicia scowled. “I say we leave him—a hemlocklike taste of his own medicine.”
“Hmm.” Tony glanced at her. “How about a trial for treason and murder?”
“Trials and executions cost money. Much better just to leave him to drown. We know he’s guilty, and just think—who forced him to come here from London? Did I make him spin me a tale about kidnapping Matthew?”
Tony stiffened. “He told you that?”
Lips tight, she nodded. “And just think of all the brave sailors he’s sent to watery graves! He’s a disgusting and debauched worm.” She tugged Tony’s arm. “Come on— let’s go.”
She didn’t mean it, but she was more than furious with Sir Freddie, and saw no reason not to torture him.
“Wait! Please…”Sir Freddie coughed water. “I know someone else.”
Tony stilled, then, releasing her, he stepped closer to the edge and crouched down to peer at Sir Freddie. “What did you say?”
“Someone else.” Sir Freddie was breathing shallowly; the water in the shaft would be freezing. “Another traitor.”
“Who?”
“Get me out of here, and we can talk.”
Tony rose; stepping back, he drew Alicia to him, pressed a kiss to her temple, whispered, “Play along.” More loudly, he said, “You’re right, let’s just leave him.” His arm around her, he turned them away.
“No!” Spluttering curses floated out of the shaft.
“Damm it—I’m not making this up. There is someone else.”
“Don’t listen,” Alicia advised. “He’s always making things up—just think of his tale about Matthew.”
“That was for a reason!”