a slithering sound as some loose shingle went sliding down into the valley and then a muffled curse, and then, as she held her breath, a man came round the path and beckoned to her.
‘Come, Kathryn,’ he commanded. ‘Take my hand and I shall help you.’
‘Lorenzo…’ she breathed, her heart leaping. She moved towards him, and somehow she was not surprised that he should be there. Ever since the woman had taken her to the garden she had believed that only one person could have arranged to have her freed.
He frowned as she came towards him, his eyes going over her with disapproval. ‘What is the matter?’
‘Take off those wide skirts,’ he told her. ‘You will never be able to negotiate this path in that gown, Kathryn.’
Kathryn did not hesitate. Untying the strings that held her overskirt, she let it fall to the ground. At once she felt so much easier in the petticoat that fitted to her body more closely than the cumbersome panniers she had donned that morning. She went to him with new confidence, taking the hand he offered. His fingers closed about it tightly and he smiled at her in a way that set her spirit soaring.
‘You are a good, brave girl,’ he told her. ‘Trust me, for this next bit is difficult, but I shall not let you fall.’
‘Thank you.’ She nodded at him bravely, trusting him, confident that he would not let her slip.
He smiled but said nothing, and, looking down, Kathryn saw that the brownish-grey rock jutted out to an alarming degree over what was a sheer fall. The path around it was no more than a ledge and could never have been intended as a path at all. It looked as if at some time a part of the rock had fallen away, leaving this overhanging ledge dangling precariously. It was hardly surprising that the Don had not considered it necessary to guard this side of his mountain home, for a party of men could not pass this way, and the only other approach was past the main gate.
She could never have done it alone! Her heart was in her mouth as she took a tentative step on to the narrow ledge, and only the firm grip of Lorenzo’s hand on her arm kept her steady. They had their backs to the rock, which pressed into Kathryn’s flesh, scraping her as she pushed back against it, edging one tiny step at a time, moving sideways, inch by inch, not daring to look down. Only the firm pressure of Lorenzo’s hand kept her from falling as her eyes closed against the dizziness that seemed to take her mind and for a moment she felt that she could not go on.
‘Not much further,’ Lorenzo said. ‘We are almost there, Kathryn.’
She could not answer—she was too terrified. She breathed slowly, deeply, hanging on to her nerve by the merest of threads, and then, all at once, she found that her feet were on more solid ground and she was suddenly swept into a crushing embrace. Lorenzo held her so fiercely that she almost swooned from the surging emotion that possessed her body and mind. She held on to him, her breath coming in great sobbing gasps as she clung to his strong body and felt the relief wash over her. She wanted to weep, but the feel of his body warmed her, giving her courage.
‘You are safe now, Madonna,’ Lorenzo said. ‘Come, my brave one. My men and the horses are waiting. We have no time to waste—once they know you are missing they will come after us.’
As she looked up at him, he bent his head, his lips brushing hers in the lightest of kisses, so light that she hardly felt it, yet it was enough to set her heart fluttering wildly.
Kathryn blinked as he let her go. She longed to be back in his arms, for she had felt so warm and safe there, but he was already hurrying her down further to where a small party of men and horses were waiting. From there the way was a gentle slope, widening out into the valley, and in the distance the grandeur of the sleeping city lay shimmering in the first rays of the morning sun.
‘Once we reach the galleys we are safe,’ he told her. ‘We shall talk then, Kathryn. But first we have some hard riding ahead.’
She nodded at him, recovering her breath now as he lifted her on to the back of one of the horses and then mounted his own. There was a sense of urgency about him that made Kathryn realise they were not yet safe and she did not need to be told to urge her horse first to a canter, and then, as they left the steep roads behind, to a gallop.
The pursuit did not begin until they had almost reached the shore. One of Lorenzo’s men gave a shout and pointed to a party of horsemen outlined against the sky. The alarm must have been given soon after Kathryn’s disappearance, for the Don’s men were not that far behind them. Lorenzo’s party were urged to make a final effort, and then they were within sight of the cove.
The horses were abandoned to one of the party, who rode off with them in another direction as Lorenzo, Kathryn and half a dozen men began the scramble down to the sandy beach where the boat was ready to take them out to the galley moored in the bay. From above them they could hear shouting and, as she paused to look up, she saw that some of Don Pablo’s men were preparing to fire at them with their deadly mosquettes, a superior weapon of Spanish invention.
Lorenzo pushed her into the boat and climbed in himself, though two of his men had fired their matchlocks at the Spaniards above; however, they were useless at such a distance and did nothing to deter the pursuers from beginning to scramble down the rocky incline to the beach below.
Now they were all in the boat and pushing off from the shore. Don Pablo’s men had reached the beach and were racing to the water’s edge, some of them wading out to take aim at the rowers. One found his mark and an oarsman fell wounded. Lorenzo took his place while Kathryn bent over him, distressed to see that he was bleeding from a shoulder wound.
She tore strips from her petticoat, making a wedge and then binding him as best she could, her attention given to her task as the shots of the men on the beach began to fall short of their target. By the time she had finished her work they had reached the galley and many hands reached out to take both her and the wounded man aboard. She heard Lorenzo giving orders and then a cannon boomed out and she looked towards the shore, seeing that the men there had fled back to the cliffs and were scrambling up them.
‘Kathryn.’ Lorenzo came to her as she stood shivering and at a loss to know what to do. Around her the men were preparing to put some distance between them and the shores of Spain. She alone could do nothing and she suddenly felt lost and terribly alone. ‘Come, you must go to my cabin and rest. This has been a harrowing experience for you. Forgive me, but there was no other way.’
‘There is nothing to forgive,’ she said in a trembling tone. ‘I must thank you for my life.’
‘I did very little. The friend I told you of—Ali Khayr—it was he who risked his life to come to you at the hacienda. I pray that he was not taken, for it will go ill with him. He lives in Granada only because his neighbours tolerate him. He says that money buys him freedom, but it was a great risk he took for our sakes.’
‘Then I shall pray for his safety,’ Kathryn said. She raised her head to look at Lorenzo, seeing the customary hard line of his mouth, his eyes giving no hint of his feelings. ‘I have had time to think of and to regret my own folly. Had I not ignored your advice, this would not have happened. I hope that you will forgive me for causing you so much trouble?’
A faint smile curved his lips. ‘Would that I could believe it will be the last time, Madonna.’
‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes sparked with indignation.
Lorenzo merely shook his head. ‘Forgive me, I have work to do. I must stay on deck in case we are followed and attacked. I
