The Gallows Bride (29 page)

“
Unless I am mistaken, you should have been hanged in Derby a
while back; what went wrong?” Scraggan’s voice was conversational,
but lost none of its sinister edge. He clearly didn’t want an
answer. “I guess that’s what happens when you send someone else to
do a job for you.”

Jemima
jumped, and stared in horror at the outline of the small, wiry man
barely visible through the gloom. Peter’s hand briefly encircled
Jemima’s. He could feel her fingers trembling and silently willed
her to stay calm and trust him to keep her safe.

“
It’s about time you showed your face Scraggan,” Peter
grumbled, wishing he could slide his arm around Jemima and reassure
her, but he daren’t take his eyes off the man before
him.

For
someone so small, he certainly managed to cause a lot of
destruction in people’s lives, Peter mused cynically, eyeing the
stick-thin legs of the much shorter man. Height for height, Peter
outclassed him. Weight for weight, there was no competition.
Despite the physical advantages, Peter wasn’t sure how he felt
about facing down Scraggan.

“
I’ve been waiting for you,” the older man announced evilly,
eyeing them all with contempt.

“
How did you get through the Redcoats?” Peter asked, thinking
of the long, impenetrable line of soldiers that had waited for them
to leave Padstow before closing ranks.

“
Ha! Redcoats! That idiot bunch are useless. I knew something
was happening when word got to us that they were gathering in
Bodmin,” Scraggan boasted proudly. “My men were ahead of them and
told me where they were camped. They also told me you were still
alive and were in Little Petherick, Jemima.”

Jemima
flinched, and knew he was telling the truth. The small hairs crept
up on her neck as she realised that they had been watched since
their arrival.

“
We watched you go to the witch’s house,” Scraggan boasted,
turning to nod at the small cliff path not far behind him. “Didn’t
take much to see which way you were going, and follow by boat.
Rowed straight out of the harbour, we did. Right out from under the
Redcoat’s noses, and they didn’t suspect a thing.” Scraggan’s voice
was laced with satisfaction.

Peter
couldn’t see the cliff path through the mist, but had no doubt it
was there. He knew there was no other way Scraggan could have found
a way past the Redcoats. He cursed his luck, and made a mental note
to remind Hugo to watch out for such things on future operations.
Right now though, he had bigger problems.

Peter
watched Scraggan saunter toward them. Despite the slippery rocks
beneath his feet, the smuggler’s tread was as steady as a mountain
goat’s, warning Peter that, should it turn into a physical fight,
Scraggan would have the advantage.

“
Where are the others?” Peter demanded, staring at the smaller
man.

“
They’re safe,” Scraggan replied defensively. “I’m not a
murderer.”

“
No,” Peter agreed, in a tone that was anything but agreeable.
“You prefer to get everyone else to do your dirty work for you,
don’t you Scraggan?”

Scraggan
turned hard eyes on first Peter, then Jemima, smiling when she
looked away, clearly scared. “Obviously, I have relied on the wrong
people to do a proper job.” He sighed loudly. “It looks like I am
going to have to my own dirty work this time.”

Releasing his hold on Jemima, Peter put himself between his
love and the imminent threat to her life.

“
Aaah, isn’t that cute,” Scraggan snarled, “he’s showing some
bravery.”

“
Who the hell are you talking to, Scraggan? There is nobody
here to listen to you. If you are trying to unnerve us, you are
going to have to do better than that.”

Scraggan
snorted. “It’s about time we came face to face, Davenport,” he
said, drawing to a stop a few feet away; close enough to pose a
threat if he decided to lunge at them, but far enough away to be
out of Peter’s reach if he decided to throw a punch.

“
So, what do you want with us Scraggan? You will get nothing
from either Jemima or me, I can promise you that,” Peter
announced.

With the
fog shrouding them from watchful eyes, Peter knew that everyone’s
survival depended upon the next few minutes.

“
It’s payback time,” Scraggan snarled, his small, beady eyes
almost feral as they glared at Peter. “Did you really think you
could evade me?”

“
I’m not trying to evade you Scraggan, I’m not frightened of
you.” Peter’s voice was full of arrogant dismissal, and to
emphasise his point he slowly trailed his condescending gaze from
Scraggan’s wild grey hair to the tips of his grubby
boots.

“
You are the kind of man who enjoys terrorising women,” Peter
snapped. “It isn’t brave to chase after a woman, Scraggan.
Even
you
must
have enough intelligence to realise that. You aren’t worth
bothering with. Without your men, who are undoubtedly busy right
now going to Bodmin, you are nothing. Nobody.” He knew that last
remark had hit its mark when Scraggan immediately drew himself up
to his full height, flicking Jemima a brief look of contempt before
seemingly dismissing her as being of little interest.

“
I’m not after the bitch, you fool! I never have been.
Although, with the trouble she has caused, I should have murdered
her the first time I clapped eyes on her,” Scraggan spat with such
finality that Peter paused.

“
What?” Jemima gasped, unsure she had heard him correctly. She
glanced questioningly at Peter. Despite her fear of him, Jemima had
to ask. “You weren’t after me?”

“
You have no idea, do you?” Scraggan asked, ignoring her and
studying Peter closely. He seemed to find this extremely
funny.

It
wasn’t his hilarity that unnerved Jemima, but the suddenness with
which it stopped. One moment, he was laughing almost maniacally,
the next he was glaring in cold contempt.

“
It’s you I want, Peter Davenport. You owe me,” Scraggan
stated flatly, clearly expecting Peter to pay up there and
then.

“
WHAT?” Peter asked, shaking his head in consternation as he
held his hands out. “What the bloody hell do you want from
me?”

“
You murdered my family,” Scraggan accused, his own voice
rising in temper. “My father, both of my brothers, four of my
uncles, and destroyed everything we had worked so hard for.” His
cold black eyes glared maliciously at Peter. “I want revenge. I
want you to suffer. I want you to lose everyone around you whom you
hold dear,” he ranted, his voice trembling with fury.

“
I haven’t murdered anyone,” Peter argued, wondering if the
man was mad.

“
Oh, so you call Norfolk justice, do you?”

Peter
froze, realising what was behind Scraggan’s hatred. He already knew
that Scraggan had been the man who had evaded capture in Norfolk.
The man the Star Elite had eventually tracked to Padstow, and had
been watching ever since. Clearly, the smuggling gang Dominic and
Peter had been sent to Norfolk to capture, were all members of
Scraggan’s family.

“
You’re smugglers, Scraggan; you cannot expect to commit
crimes without being punished at some point in your lives,” Peter
reasoned, knowing from the look on Scraggan’s face that he wasn’t
listening. “It’s a risk that comes with your – lifestyle. The only
person to blame for your loss is yourself, and your family for
committing the crimes in the first place,” Peter went
on.

“
So it’s all right for you to come along and destroy my life,
as long as you can go back to your posh estate, with your bitch,
and get on with your lives? Well, not while I am around,” Scraggan
snarled.

“
I was just doing my job,” Peter stated coldly, refusing to
bargain with the man.

He was
aware that Jemima, standing so quietly beside him, was shaking,
whether through cold or fear of Scraggan he couldn’t be sure, but
he had to get her, and the others - wherever they were - off the
cliffs.

“
Well, I’m going to finish you, just like I should have done
back in Norfolk,” Scraggan boasted. “I saw the broadsheets
heralding the murders of the smuggling gang you broke up. My
smuggling gang! My family! You and Dominic Cavendish were national
heroes for a while there, but you forgot one thing.” Scraggan
thumped his chest heavily. “Me.”

“
You were smuggling illegal goods into the country and local
people were turning up dead!” Peter argued, refusing to allow
Scraggan to justify his depraved behaviour.

“
I have never worked out of Norfolk,” Scraggan replied, his
tone matter-of-fact.

“
But you were there -” Peter shook his head, wondering what
Scraggan was trying to do. Was he distracting them while he waited
for someone else to arrive?

“
It wasn’t me, it was my son, Rogan. I left the gang to start
up on my own further down the coast. Although we were two separate
gangs, we worked together most of the time; that is, until you and
Dominic Cavendish showed up. My son watched you and your men murder
his uncles; his family. He has never been the same since.” There
was a small tinge of loss in his voice that, for one infinitesimal
moment, made him sound more human.

“
That’s my fault? Your family being brought to justice for
murder and smuggling is unfair is it? You should have gone down
with them Scraggan. Where were you, by the way? Oh, I know, you
were running away to protect yourself.” Peter knew he shouldn’t
antagonise the man, but the memory of what he had done to Jemima
burned through his veins like molten lava, driving him to irritate
Scraggan and, he hoped, make him do something rash. Anything to
give him a reason to lift his gun and remove the man from all of
their lives.

He
wanted to, but he wasn’t a murderer. As much as he hated the man,
he wasn’t going to resort to cold-bloodedly shooting an unarmed
man. Especially in front of Jemima. He wasn’t going to lower
himself to being a murderer, and risk losing her respect, or her
love. If he had been on his own, he wouldn’t of
hesitated.

If he
was completely honest, a part of him wanted to see Scraggan swing
from the gallows. He wanted the man to suffer the same fear and
misery he had subjected Jemima to in Derby. He wanted Scraggan to
spend time in a condemned cell, knowing there was no way out. Peter
wanted Scraggan’s final moments to be at the end of a hangman’s
noose, knowing that justice had won.

“
Strange how you survived, wasn’t it, Scraggan? If you were so
close to your family and working together, why did they die and you
survive if you didn’t run?” Peter goaded, ignoring Jemima’s warning
look.

“
I wasn’t there. I had left a few weeks earlier to work for
one of the small gangs in Cornwall. They were rumoured to have
better goods, fetching a higher price. Perfect for what I needed.
It didn’t take much to work my magic and, before long, I had
everyone eating out of my hand.” Scraggan’s puffed out his chest,
clearly proud of his achievements.

“
Hardly that, now, was it Scraggan? You bullied people,
murdered those who didn’t want to cooperate, and stole from anyone
and everyone who tried to hold out against you. You were
ruthless.”

The
smaller man shrugged unconcernedly. “They didn’t have my
intelligence,” he spat.

“
You threatened them with death. That’s hardly intelligent, is
it?” Peter snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. He couldn’t
decide if the man was incredibly arrogant, or incredibly
stupid.

“
It worked. I made my fortune. I read the broadsheets
detailing what you’d done to my family, and had to sit and wait for
Rogan to come to me. I didn’t know whether he was dead or alive for
days, and had to carry on as though nothing had happened.” His thin
face scrunched up as he stared out toward the sea. “You should know
all about that.”

Peter
swore inwardly, refusing to betray any emotion and give the small
man the satisfaction.

“
It was easy to set the bitch up,” Scraggan’s voice dropped to
a contemptuous whisper, his hard gaze sweeping over Jemima from
head to foot. “She was so worried for that brainless sister of hers
that she fell for our claim that we had Eliza, hook, line and
sinker. She arrived at our meeting place as instructed, just in
time to hold the evidence.”

“
She didn’t really have much of a choice, did she?” Peter
snarled. “She didn’t deserve what you put her through.”

“
She is your whore. We watched you chase after her like a dog
after a bitch in heat. You care about her. It’s not nice to be
helpless and unable to protect those you care about, is
it?”

Peter
was determined not to allow him to control the conversation. This
was probably the only time he would have a conversation with
Scraggan, and he wanted answers.

“
So you and Rogan were running one gang, and the rest of your
family running another nearby. You then left and set up your
operation in Cornwall, and allowed Rogan to join you when the gang
he was running met with justice. You both ran the gangs here in
Cornwall until Jemima’s father lifted his head above the parapet,
and started asking too many questions. You know he took vital
information about you to the War Office,” Peter smiled to himself
as Scraggan shot a startled look at him, “and were determined that
he shouldn’t make a return journey. You slaughtered him before he
got home, and were worried that the ladies also had information on
you; that’s why they had to be killed, wasn’t it?” Peter didn’t
wait for Scraggan’s answer. Ignoring the smaller man’s impatient
shuffling, he continued to muse as though in deep thought. “Of
course, you hadn’t realised they would be so clever as to evade you
for nigh on twelve months.”