Disclaimers: as before.

Thanks to my reviewers and sorry for the rather shocking cliffhanger. I felt guilty - honest!

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'Leave him alone! You bastard! You'll pay for this, I swear, I'll kill you!' Sydney rattled the portcullis in sheer anguish. Tears of rage and fear pricked in her eyes. She had rarely felt so powerless, so frustrated, and so downright scared for somebody that she loved. 'Please…'

Nigel, to whom the world was increasingly hazy, gave a guttural cry as the knife sliced through his flesh. He tried to recoil his arm, but the Baron forced it out straight so the blood, that was beginning to seep from his wound, dripped directly onto the statue.

As the first drops fell, the Baron lifted his other hand and ran it over his face. ' I don't feel any different,' he ranted. 'Why isn't it working?'

'Because its a load of rubbish! I don't know why, but I think Moira was conning you. Look…please…' Sydney was willing to be uncharacteristically humble. ' Just don't hurt him any more. Let me bandage his arm… please…' The tears were now trickling down her cheeks.

Nigel slumped forward onto the altar, resting his head on his other arm. He was still conscious but, besides the searing pain in his arm, he felt a strange tingling sensation. Black dots were appearing in front of his eyes.

'I cut too high up the arm…' rumbled the Baron introspectively. 'I must need his life's blood.' He yanked Nigel's head back by the hair, so his throat was exposed. Sydney screamed, guessing his intentions all too well. The Baron reached for the knife.

At that instant, there was a loud, resonating bang. The room was filled with a puff of smoke. When the fog cleared, the Baron lay prone on the ground, a growing spot of blood discernible on his left shoulder. In the doorway from the library, opened from without, stood the fragile figure of Lucy Milford with her husband's double-barrelled shotgun.

'Good shot,' gasped Sydney.

'I was Hampshire ladies clay-pigeon shooting champion, six years in a row,' said Lucy. 'I don't think my husband's ever forgiven me. He can't shoot for toffee… I better go and get help now!'

'Yes… please hurry!'

Sydney turned away, and reached through the bars to lightly touch Nigel on the shoulder. He was huddled at the base of the altar with his back to her, clutching his injured arm and trembling. The blood was seeping through his fingers.

'Nigel? I need to try and bandage you quickly. Can you move closer?' Syd ripped a strip of fabric off her already stretched and tattered dress.

Nigel obeyed, sliding himself towards her, and even managed a vague smile. 'I'm okay, Syd. I mean, well, I've been better…' Nigel flinched. 'Hurts like hell…but he was right, he cut too high. I don't think he's hit anything too fundamental…'

'Let's not take any chances, eh?' Nigel shakily held out his arm, and Syd did her best to bandage it as tightly, yet as gently, as she could.

……………………

Mr and Mrs Bob were the first real assistance on the scene after Lucy, who went to fetch them. Pansy had done little but have hysterics. Mr Bob helped Sydney prise her way out of the cage, while Mrs Bob tended Nigel and observed, rather carelessly, that the Baron was not actually dead. Lucy Milford was too good a shot, and had deliberately aimed for the shoulder. She wanted him to pay from what he'd done with long years in jail.

It was only after Sydney had ascertained for sure that Nigel was not dying, that the issue of Moira still being on the loose became pressing again.

'Well, she can't get off the island,' said Mr Bob. 'Not unless she tries to launch the car ferry – it's the only boat moored here at the moment - but in this gale, it'd be hopeless.'

'Yes, but she's a desperate woman,' said Syd.

'So you're going after her?' said Nigel faintly, attempting a reassuring smile. ' I knew you would.'

Sydney grinned back guiltily. 'Yeah, I'm sorry Nigel. I know we've got the relic, and this psychopath,' here she kicked her foot in the direction of the Baron. 'But, we can't let her get away. And… I've got to admit, I'm curious as to why she did…whatever she's been doing!' Sydney crouched down, and kissed him on the cheek. 'You'll be okay?'

'Fine. If you're going, you'd better go, hadn't you?'

Sydney gave him a tender hug, and dashed from the room before Mr Bob could stop her.

'Miss, let me come too,' he called after her, concerned, but she was gone.

…………….

Outside, dawn was now breaking. The rain had stopped falling but there was still a strong, gale-force wind. Sydney considered motoring down the drive in her 1930's sports car to gain time, but knew that it would loose her the element of surprise. She cursed the dress that had hampered her all night, but was glad that she had never put on the stilettos and was still clad in sensible boots.

It took a while to reach the jetty, but she was relieved to see that the ferry was still there. Sydney hid herself behind the boathouse, peeping out to survey the scene. At first there was no sign of Moira. After a few minutes, though, a slight figure emerged from the cabin of the little ship. Moira began turning the wheel that started the engine. Sydney guessed she had been waiting to see if the waves would subside, but had realised that she dare not delay any longer.

As stealthily as possible, Sydney slipped out of her hiding place and snuck onto the back of the boat. Moira was struggling with the controls, and only turned around in alarm when Sydney addressed her from barely a metre away:

'Game over, Moira, whatever your game is!'

Moira whipped a gun from the inside of her cloak. 'Stay away, or I'll shoot!'

Sydney remained calm, raising her hands and taking a small step back. 'If you launch this boat, chances are it'll capsize. It's not designed to cross rough seas.' The swell of the waves was already tilting the little ferry, harboured as it was.

A flash of concern crossed Moira's face, which she concealed in a frown. The engine had started chugging and, still with the gun pointed firmly at Sydney, she started to unravel the towrope.

'This is suicide, Moira!' Gusts of wind were whipping their hair and clothes. Surely she would not launch in this squall?

'I don't care!' shouted Moira, suddenly in a frenzy. 'Its all gone wrong… nobody should have known I was involved. The house and this whole island would have been mine!'

'Yours?' said Sydney, genuinely intrigued.

'Yes,' affirmed Moira angrily. 'Lord Bannockburgh left the house, in his will, to me and to Pansy. No-one but I knew, not even that blonde airhead.' She sighed dramatically. 'I needed them dead, so I could live my life, but I couldn't think how to get away with it… and then, on my last trip here, I intercepted calls from that stupid actor. He'd got wind of rumours about the regenerating powers of that statue while holidaying in Greece and traced it to here. He was clearly desperate, and I realised that he'd probably kill to get his youth back… I knew about the temple, and the poem on the vase, and that the old fool liked playacting vampires…'

'So you made up the whole ceremony thing up, so that he would kill them for you!' Sydney thought she would take advantage of Moira's confessional mood.

'Kind of… everything was going well until old Lord Bannockburgh overheard you and Nigel by the stables and realised who you were. He said he was going to announce at dinner he was giving you the statue. The silly old duffer was going to donate it to your friend in the first place; he thought any bad publicity would put off his paying guests. I dissuaded him before, but he was determined now he knew you were here… so, rather than poison him after dinner, I had to do it early… fortunately, Pansy was still sniffing about, so I knew people would suspect her easily enough to convince that baron he was safe to kill her…'

'And then make her death look like a suicide… and if anybody found out, they would blame both deaths on the Baron… I mean, Peter Morrison. You're a sick, twisted woman!'

'Yes… but I would have got away with it if you and your darned cute assistant hadn't turned up! No matter, I'm going to sink or swim with this boat.' She smiled, and cocked the pistol. 'But first I think I'm going to have to shoot you...'

Sydney smiled back sweetly. 'There's no need for that, I won't stop you leaving…' She feigned a motion backwards and then lunged forward, swiping the gun from Moira's delicate hand. She then landed a firm punch on her opponent's jaw, which sent the young woman staggering backwards into the ships controls. Moira jarred heavily against the lever that regulated the speed, sending the vessel lurching forward into the mountainous waves.

'Damn, that's not good,' thought Sydney. She grabbed at the controls, and pulled backwards, but this had no effect. The boat was chugging steadily out of the sheltered harbour, and into very obvious danger.

As she frantically fiddled with the various levers and wheels, she heard the beep of a car horn. A vintage Rover had just drawn up by the quay. Out of it piled Mr Bob, Lucy Milford, with her trusty shotgun and, rather more gingerly, Nigel. 'Nigel!' Sydney was temporarily distracted. He shouldn't be chasing after her in his state!

The three newcomers were waving their arms, and shouting animatedly, although she could not make out their words. Too late, she realised that a giant wave was heading for the little ferry. Sydney gripped the side of the boat as it rose ten foot in the air. Then the world spun one hundred and eighty degrees and water surged around her.

………………..

'Sydney!' Nigel cried out in alarm, as Lucy Milford screamed.

'Stay here,' Mr Bob instructed, mainly to Nigel. ' I should never have let you come with us… I'm going to get a rope.'

'Be quick,' harried Nigel as Mr Bob dashed into the boathouse. He then completely ignored Mr Bob's advice, clambering down onto the steep pebble and mud beach, over which the landing platform jutted out.

'Sydney! Sydney!' It was Nigel's turn to feel helpless to save someone he loved. He could see the bottom of the boat bobbing, but no one had surfaced yet. 'Why did it have to get deep so quickly?' he lamented. The waves were crashing down onto the beach in front of him, where a strong undertow churned the pebbles back down into the sea. There was still no sign of Mr Bob.

Amidst the towering waves only a few metres out, he spotted a waving hand. As the swell momentarily subsided, he saw Sydney fighting with all her might through the buffeting ocean. Nigel hesitated: he really didn't want to have to muster the strength go in there, but watching his Sydney founder in the water evoked the same emotions he'd felt as she hung from the tower. He wouldn't let her fall, so how could he stand there and watch her drown? Bewildered at how everything had come to this, Nigel waded cautiously into the biting cold of the undertow. The ground shifted unsettlingly beneath his feet as the pebbles grinded noisily forward in the current. Once he was just above knee deep, he held out his good arm in her direction.

'Syd,' he called over the roaring waves. 'Can you reach me?'

Sydney was still choking out water and couldn't reply. The part of her that wasn't struggling for her life, however, was wondering if Nigel had always had such a selflessly heroic streak and how he on earth he'd been given a chance to display it twice in one night. Exerting herself through the steeply undulating waves, she swam forward until she was inches from his hand.

As they reached to touch, however, a wave nearly as great as the one that had toppled the boat, swept over both of them as it broke towards the beach. Nigel, barely standing firm, lost his footing and was sucked under. When the water subsided, he did not re-emerge. Sydney, finding she was now within her depth, dived under and gratefully seized his body, dragging him back to the surface. With one arm holding him close to her, she grasped the end of Mr Bob's hopefully proffered rope, and pulled for the shore.

………………………………

'The man's a hero!' declared Mr Bob, and there was not a person present who disagreed. With every woman in the room apart from, annoyingly, Sydney, fussing over him incessantly, Nigel almost wished that somebody would.

They were all back safely at the mansion, Sydney and Nigel having changed into warm, clean clothes. Both were very glad their maritime ordeal was over. The Baron, now conscious and with his gunshot wound patched up, was firmly under lock and key. Nobody had been able to contact the police yet.

Even the Colonel had decided Nigel was a proper trooper. 'I think Sydney and your wife saved the day really…' ventured Nigel, but his female fans, and the Colonel, were having none of it.

'You saved that silly woman's life twice,' barked the Colonel, regarding Sydney. 'And, as for my wife! Well, she got lucky. I've no idea why she didn't wake me. I'm a sure shot!'

Sydney dropped her mouth in righteous, feminist disgust, and was on the verge of jumping to Lucy's defence, when the little woman touched her on the shoulder and whispered: 'don't worry dear; I hold the whip hand really. He's all bark and no bite … just let him fume.'

After the wind settled down, the first party from the outside world to arrive, rather unexpectedly, was the Baron's helicopter. It seemed that he had ordered it to arrive on the Saturday morning. His 'people' were rather shocked, to say the least, when they discovered the situation and heard the whole story.

The producer of the Baron's next movie, who the actor had instructed to turn up 'for a great surprise,' seemed strangely relieved. 'I knew he was on the verge of insanity, but I didn't realise he'd gone completely over the edge. We've been desperate to ditch him for ages, but he had invested a lot of money in the production company.' The producer looked Nigel up and down. 'You're a good-looking fellow,' he mused, 'how about a screen test? I'm sure at least a TV movie will come of what happened last night. You could rise to stardom by playing yourself! What d'ya think?'

Nigel slowly rose from his comfy chair. This caused Tabatha, Pansy, Miss Macduff, Mrs Bob and the thin ex-nurse with the ginger hair to reluctantly remove their hands from his hair, face and all the other parts of his body that they were fondly caressing.

'Thanks… but, no thanks,' he said the movie producer. 'I've had enough of being a hero… I don't think I make a very good one anyway.'

Everyone in the room clamoured to disagree as Nigel sidled over to Sydney.

'Please!' he hissed. 'You've got to get me out of here!'

'You're not enjoying the attention, then?' teased Sydney.

'No!'

Sydney slipped her arm through his uninjured one, and announced ' I need to have a word with my assistant in private.' She led him from the room as collective female voices raised in protest.

……………

'Are you feeling up to a little walk,' inquired Sydney

'Anything, as long as it gets me away from those awful women!'

'They adore you.'

'Yes, and they still treat me like I'm the stableboy. Tabatha was…well, I daren't tell you where she was putting her hands.'

Sydney raised her eyebrows and giggled. 'You know, I'm sure they respect you really. They all think you're a great hero. They just also find you very attractive. You should be flattered!'

'I suppose it could be worse,' admitted Nigel. He wondered if it was a good time to broach the subject of the kiss on the staircase.

They had descended the steps out of the front door of the house, and were heading around towards the side. 'When are we going,' asked Nigel.

'Where do you think?'

……………….

The stables had a solid roof and the hay inside it was still fluffy and appealing despite the overnight rain. Syd stood in front of it for a second, facing Nigel, who was peering at her from the doorway. Then she threw herself backward, letting her body bounce into the soft, natural couch.

When Nigel did not instantly join her, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him quizzically. 'What are you waiting for? You said you wanted a roll in the hay before we left!'

Nigel took a deep breath. 'Syd. I'm…well, I'm confused. Yesterday you said you didn't fancy me - that I wasn't rugged enough or something - and then last night in the tower, you…you…well, you know what you did. Then you pretend like nothing happened… and now this!'

Sydney frowned, and then screwed up her face apologetically. ' I suppose those are rather mixed messages…' she conceded.

'What is the message then?'

Sydney thoroughly surveyed the appealing sight of her teaching assistant. Nigel had the air of a wounded soldier, tired and jaded and with his arm bandaged. His hair and clothes were dishevelled, mainly from being toyed with by his female admirers. He was still quite clean, but 'God, who needs dirt?' thought Sydney. She figured he looked as sexy as hell. Moreover, he'd saved her life twice. Didn't he deserve some sort of respite from her torture?

'The message is…' started Sydney, ' that I'm not very good at sending them out sometimes. I admit, when I kissed you on the tower, I was just blown away by the passion of the moment. Hell, I've kissed other guys at times like that and regretted it later…but I don't regret it with you, Nigel. I should've done it before!'

'Really?'

'Yeah, really,' she patted the straw next to where she was lying. 'Come and join me?' Nigel eased himself down, so he was close next to her. As she did back on the plane, she leaned towards his intimately so her warm breath ruffled his hair.

'Like every other woman in this place, I've been lusting after you all weekend,' she purred seductively. She traced her finger lightly down side of his face, and then let it wander playfully down the front of his shirt.

'You have. That's wonderful…I mean…its…I…'

Nigel paused, but before Sydney had time to wonder, he communicated all with a deep veracious kiss. Their bodies then entwined together, as one, as they rolled over in the hay.

……………………………

A few weeks later, two very interesting emails arrived at Trinity University, coincidentally on the same day.

The first was from Maria. The statue had arrived safely at the temple exhibition in Athens, kindly donated by the new owner of the house, Pansy. They had managed to scrub off all the bloodstains.

The second was from Mr Bob, who had promised that he would keep them up-to-date with any interesting news. The first part was the least shocking. Pansy, who had promised ardently before Sydney and Nigel left that she would turn the house into a 'lovely museum,' had apparently changed her mind several times. She was now toying with the idea of an animal sanctuary or casino, and he hoped that Sydney could write to her and dissuade her from the latter.

The second half concerned the fate of Moira. She had paid for her crimes; her body had been found on the beach a few days later. Strangely, however, the coroner had not been able to positively affirm that she had drowned. Odder still, the autopsy had conjectured that her death may have been caused by blood loss, which could only have occurred through two strange marks which were found on her neck.

'Weird,' murmured Sydney to Nigel, who was reading the e-mail over her shoulder.

'Do you think it was the old boy, reaping his revenge?' suggested Nigel, baring his teeth and nails in a mock-Dracula pose.

'You shouldn't joke about a thing like that,' she said, despite suppressing a giggle. 'Hey, I reckon it was that Miss Macduff. She was really frightening!'

'I'd rather not recall. Most things about that weekend, I would very much like to forget.' Nigel turned to leave the office, but Sydney rushed around and stopped him, blocking the doorway.

'Surely you don't want to forget all of it?' she teased. 'You know, I kept some of my costumes.'

'You did?' Nigel wasn't sure where this conversation was going.

'And I kept that riding crop,' she whispered suggestively. 'Wanna play, stableboy?'

'Maybe later,' said Nigel quickly, and he picked up a random pile of books and pushed past her out of the office. Sydney smiled to herself. She knew he'd be back.

The end.

Thanks for reading: as before, I've been getting a guilty pleasure from checking my stats, but...

...please, please review! As I always say, I really appreciate it. I'm toying with several ideas for my next story, which I want to be completely different. If I know what people like, or what didn't work, it all helps!

Katy x