The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,110

a mother-of-pearl jacquard waistcoat, and gleaming black boots, Simon clutched the chief magistrate’s release order and sprinted forward.

Finding a narrow path near the edge of the pier, he ran as if every desire he’d ever had waited for him at the other end. His hat toppled from his head, but he didn’t care nor slow his pace, he just kept going, mindful of only one thing – one person – one dream.

Ida.

He had to reach her, had to save her, had to bring her home.

His heart beat so hard he feared it might crack a rib. Sweat permeated his shirt until it clung to his back. His lungs burned, protesting the rapid intake of air.

Ignoring every discomfort, Simon kept running, not stopping until the final vessel came into view. Ropes were being cast off from the bollards and pulled aboard. The men who’d seen to the task hurried onto the ship and then the gangplank was being lifted.

Simon forced his feet to move so fast he almost stumbled. “Wait.”

The sound wheezed in his throat, so painful it made his eyes water. And yet he shouted once more, louder this time and with greater effort. “Wait!”

“Raise the anchor and drop the main sail.”

Reaching the side of the ship, Simon stared at its retreating form. Without the mooring lines in place, it was gradually easing away from the pier. “Stop. I must get on board!”

No one responded. The crew was too busy, the orders shouted to them by their captain overpowering Simon’s words. He shook his head. It couldn’t come to this. He could not be this close to getting Ida back, only to fail. But what could he possibly do?

His mind raced. He had to think of something fast, before the distance between him and the ship increased any more. Making one last attempt at gaining somebody’s notice, he shouted again at the top of his lungs, but just like before, his words received no response.

Time to think of something else then.

If there were a rowboat nearby, he could have used it. But there wasn’t. The last one he’d seen was quite a ways back. By the time he reached it…

He shook his head. A waste of time. He scanned the side of the ship until his eyes found a rope hanging over the side – a mooring line that hadn’t been pulled back on board yet.

Gauging the distance, Simon tucked the chief magistrate’s letter into his jacket pocket, stepped back and drew a deep breath. His fingers flexed in preparation for what he was going to do. The ship slid further away. If he didn’t act fast, he’d lose his chance altogether.

Without second guessing himself, Simon ran forward. When the front of his foot met the edge of the quay, he jumped, fully aware he might land in the river, but choosing to hope he’d be able to make it.

Reaching forward, he strained his fingers and grabbed for the rope.

His hands closed around the thick twisted twine even as his momentum threw his hip into the ship with a jarring thwack that ricocheted through him. The rope scraped his palms as his weight pulled him down, burning his skin until it felt raw. But rather than let go he tightened his hold and was able to stop his fall. Bloody hell. He glanced up and pressed his lips firmly together. The railing wasn’t so far. All he had to do now was climb.

Clutching the rope, he pushed himself into position and planted his feet against the side of the ship. Then, hand over hand, he walked his way upward while gasping and wheezing for breath. Pain radiated from his hip and his hands felt as though they’d been lashed by a whip. He paused, gripped the rope harder, reminded himself of the stakes. This was about saving Ida. He had to find the energy required to make his way over that blasted railing and onto the deck.

Swallowing, he thought of her dazzling eyes, her beautiful smile, and the sound of her laughter. The muscles in his arms bunched and strained. His foot slipped and for a brief second he lost his purchase. But then he was climbing again, faster than before, the railing now only one yard above him. He caught the edge and hooked his arm on the wooden ledge to haul himself over.

“Who the hell are you?” a crewmember asked.

The man, along with several others, had halted their chores to stare at Simon while he staggered to his