Madeline gave thanks he was looking away from them, stoically watching the men dig. He seemed entirely unperturbed, as if he knew it would be only a matter of time before rescue arrived. A typical Gascoigne trait, that unshakable belief in his own invulnerability.
Gervase halted less than two yards from Edmond; she halted beside him, and Dalziel halted behind her. An instant later, she felt a touch on her shoulder. She looked around as Dalziel slipped past her, then past Gervase, to take the lead.
Dalziel’s target-the traitor, their villain-was somewhere on the beach. Madeline stared, trying to see each man clearly, but again the shifting bodies defeated her. The man in the greatcoat she’d spotted earlier had merged into the melee.
This was their moment of greatest danger. Exposed, in the shadows yet perfectly visible if any thought to look their way, they had to wait until Charles saw them in position, then marshaled the boats for the beaching. How long that might take-
A sudden roar reached them, one that owed nothing to wind or water. Five boats came crashing onto the beach, carried on the crest of a single large wave. In the prow of one, his black hair in tight curls, a sword flashing in his hand, Charles looked every inch a pirate. The instant the keels grated on sand, men poured over the boats’ sides, brandishing swords and long knives.
The wreckers, momentarily stunned-long enough for all the fighters in the boats to gain the beach-abruptly came to their senses and sent up an answering roar. There was a mad scramble for weapons, then the two groups clashed; sand churned and flew.
Madeline snapped her attention back to her own task-the sense of Gervase slipping away pulled her back. She saw him glide behind Edmond, enthralled with the battle raging before him, toward the guard, who was clearly dithering over whether to stay with Edmond or join the fray.
Dalziel had disappeared.
Gervase reached the guard, drew near. Sensing something, the man started to turn; Gervase struck him on the skull with his sword hilt. The man crumpled.
Seeing Gervase, Edmond struggled to his feet. Madeline caught him by the shoulders. “No-stay down!”
Dropping back to his knees, he turned wide eyes on her. “Maddie?”
“Yes, it’s me. Hold still while I cut you loose.” There was, she noted, not an ounce of fright let alone terror in Edmond’s voice; he was excited, eager to join in. “Our job,” she told him, sawing through the ropes, “is to guard Gervase’s back.”
“All right.” Edmond was all but quivering with eagerness.
“There.” Pulling the ropes away, she stood. She waited while Edmond rubbed his wrists and got to his feet. He turned to her, and she handed him the short knife she’d used to cut the ropes. “This is for you.”
She knew her brothers very well.
Eyes shining, Edmond seized the knife. “Where-”
“You and I are supposed to stay here-me a little back from Gervase’s left, you a trifle further back, on his right.” Looking at Gervase’s broad-shouldered back, Edmond shuffled back a fraction. Madeline nodded. “Yes-like that. Now we’re in position to make sure no one attacks him while he’s defending us.”
Edmond nodded, eyes on the writhing mass of bodies, flailing and flinging themselves at each other. The clang of metal on metal sang over the waves’ roar; for a moment, Madeline felt detached, as if the pitched battle were a dream she was observing from a safe distance…then two men staggered back from the pack.
Large, heavyset, they weren’t locals. She saw them exchange a glance, a few snarled words, then they left the group and came running up the beach, churning through the sand toward her and Edmond, with Gervase ranged before them. The men targeted Gervase, focused their fury and fear on him. They looked set to fling themselves, blades flashing, on him-but in the instant before they did, he fluidly shifted; his sword swung out in a powerful arc, slicing one of the men’s upper arm.
The man yelped; both dropped back. Their eyes gleamed as they took stock, licked their lips.
Crouching, they circled.
Gervase beckoned them forward. “Come on-don’t be shy.”
Behind him, her own sword held out of sight parallel to her leg, Madeline bit her lip; he sounded entirely relaxed, tauntingly confident.
Another man fell back from the melee in the center. He saw his two cronies, guessed their tack, and came to join them.
“Gervase…” Madeline warned.
“Yes. Time to change tactics.”
That was all the warning he gave before launching a ferocious attack on the two before him, driving them back.
But other nonlocals had now seen. Understanding their value-hers and Edmond’s as hostages-in desperation they scrambled away from the fighting and came rushing to secure what might be their only way to win free.
She heard Gervase swear; with a swinging slash, he cut down one of the two he was engaged with, leaving him whimpering in the sand clutching his arm, and fell back. Poised with sword drawn, he stood between her and Edmond and the onrush of men.
Charles had seen but was surrounded by heaving bodies; he couldn’t immediately come to their aid. Dalziel was far to their right; his task was to find the traitor and seize him, or, failing that, cut off all escape from the beach by taking and holding the only path up the cliff. Glancing across, she glimpsed him on the lower reaches of the path, sword slashing as he drove back men desperately seeking to flee. With nothing to lose, they redoubled their efforts, but the relentless ferocity with which he met them kept sending them reeling back.
Looking back at the men charging toward them, fanning out to come at Gervase from multiple angles, Madeline felt her heart thud heavily; her lungs had long ago seized. She swallowed, tightened her grip on her sword, drew her long knife from her boot, and edged closer to Edmond. “Follow my lead.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Edmond nod. Like her, he was watching the men advance; unlike her, there was not an ounce of fear in his heart.
The jackals circled, then two launched a ferocious frontal attack; Gervase met it, flung them back, but was immediately engaged by another. Meanwhile, two men slunk in, one on either side.
Seeing them advancing, Madeline stooped, picked up a handful of sand and flung it in the face of the ogre to their left; leaving him swearing and stumbling, pawing at his eyes, she stepped across Edmond, brought up her sword and thrust at the smaller man sneaking in on Gervase’s right.
The man leapt back, eyes wide, his expression scandalized. “The bitch has a blade!”
Madeline wanted to follow him, but didn’t dare leave Gervase’s back unprotected-then Gervase shifted, engaging the smaller man. She pulled back, glanced to her left-in time to see the ogre lift his short sword.
He went for Gervase.
She got her blade up in time to deflect the thrust, gasped when the force of it reverberated up her arm; crossing her knife with her sword, catching his blade in the V, she heaved, and sent the ogre staggering back. Mean, piggy-bright eyes fixed on her; with a roar he lifted his sword high and came at her.
She got her crossed blades up, caught his-
Then he yelled and toppled sideways.
She glanced down to see Edmond-he was clutching the back of her jacket-pull his knife from the man’s beefy thigh, just above his knee. She nodded in approval; as one they whirled away, leaving the ogre howling and cursing and rolling in the sand-he was large enough to effectively block others from rushing in from that direction-and swung to protect Gervase’s other side.
Just in time.
Gervase had accounted for two more-all nonlocals-but three more desperate men had arrived, determined to seize them. Two had engaged Gervase, drawing him forward; the other waited, then rushed in from his left-
Again she swung her blade, caught the man’s thrust and swung his blade over to lock between hers…but this time the man had the agility and momentum to turn with her-to shift his attack from Gervase to her.