Carried Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book Two)

by Kamery Solomon

  Making landfall, the crew split up easily, used to completing their individual jobs when they were on shore. The cargo would be sold to the harbormaster and then we would all be free for the next three days. It was likely the majority of men would spend their share of the loot in the brothel, having sex and getting wasted drunk, which meant I’d be spending my time off with the lot of them anyway.

  Helping Sam out of the boat, I held her hand firmly in mine, keeping her close as we followed Randall to our destination. She didn’t seem to mind, her eyes wide as she took in everything around her.

  “Never been to Nassau?” I guessed, smiling at the glimpse of the old Sam I saw in her. The expression of wonder she wore now was one I’d seen in our own time, whenever we worked together in the Pit. She still looked so beautiful now, even in dirty, men’s clothes that didn’t fit her.

  “No,” she confirmed. “It feels a lot like Tortuga, though. And the village on Madagascar.”

  “I imagine the people here are doing the same things they were there.” I chuckled, secretly adoring the way her fingers felt in mine, wishing there were some way we could stay together. As always, my self-loathing over loving her reminded me that she was married and in love with another man. Shoving reality from my mind, I resolved to simply enjoy the moment while it happened, future problems be damned.

  Stepping through the doors of our latest prison, my eyebrows rose at the flurry of activity before us. The building, a stone structure two stories high, was by far one of the busiest establishments I’d seen as we passed through town, with the bar coming in at a close second. Topless women paraded their breasts in front of a slew of patrons, the men reaching out and touching the waitresses and even pulling them onto their laps for a kiss. At the bar, drunkards laughed over some card game that was taking place, betting on who would win. The stairs to the rooms were in constant use, either by women leading men up, or patrons leaving after their lusty meetings.

  “How can I help you?” An older woman, wearing entirely too much makeup appeared magically at our side, eyes swiping over the group. Her perfume was so strong that it caused me to forcibly fight the urge to gag,

  “Your best room,” Randall told her coolly, reaching into his coat and procuring a bag full of coins. Shaking it gently, the sounds of the money clinking together inside made her eyes widen with hunger and happiness.

  “Will you be wanting a girl to go with it?” Her tone was casual, but I didn’t miss how her gaze seemed to pause on Sam for a second, a frown pulling at her lips.

  “No. It’s not for me.” Looking over his shoulder, Randall nodded for me to step forward. “It’s for my friends. They’ll be staying a few nights and I want them well taken care of.” He jiggled the purse again, as if reminding her about the money involved. “You’ll be paid handsomely for watching after them for me. Especially the girl.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed and she turned her attention to him, seeming to be assessing his character. Finally, after what felt like an hour of holding my breath, she nodded, reaching out and snatching the bag away from him. “She’ll not take one step without me knowing. Follow me.”

  Pushing through the crowd, she yelled at a few people to behave themselves, laughing loudly as she went up the stairs. It wasn’t hard for us to follow, the crowd staying parted to allow Randall and his sinister air to pass through.

  Finally, we reached our room, located at the end of the hall. It was a rather large space, with sparse furnishings, but it held the comfort that a hammock on a ship lacked.

  “Your meals are paid for and the privy is out back,” Captain Randall said as he watched Sam sit down on the edge of the mattress. “If I hear one word of either of you leaving before it’s time to set sail, I promise Nassau will be the last place you ever set eyes on.”

  “Yes, Captain,” I replied, leaning one shoulder against the bedpost. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t try to leave.”

  He regarded me with a cool and calm interest, his eyes flicking between the two of us for a moment. Ever since I’d stopped him from slapping her, he had seemed to hold less trust in me. Perhaps he’d realized I had real feelings for her. Or maybe he thought I was trying to take some of his power from him. Either way, I’d been given much less information than normal, and he’d stopped pressing me for details on what Sam knew about the treasure.

  Without another word, Randall left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him and plunging Sam and I into our three-day “vacation.”

  Sighing, she fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression. Following suit, I moved to the other side, lying so our heads were together, and remained silent.

  “I don’t suppose you brought any books or cards,” she finally said, moving onto her side to look at me.

  “As a matter of fact, I did.” Getting up, I went to the small bag I’d brought with me. It had some clean clothes in it, as well as an extra knife and gun. Before we’d sailed in to port, I’d gone to a couple members of the crew and paid them off with my share of the loot for their cards and dice, knowing there wouldn’t be much to do during a three-day confinement indoors.

  Shuffling the cards, I motioned for her to join me at the small table, dealing out a hand for each of us. After a few hours, I was surprised to find that Sam was quite good at gambling.

  “Where did you learn to play so well?” I asked after a particularly nasty loss on my end.

  “Tristan,” she answered, laughing. “He plays with his grandmother every time they get together. She’s the master, but he’s beaten her once or twice. He taught me how to do it, for practice. I’m afraid I’m not that much of a challenge for him, though.” She grinned, mixing the deck again and dealing out the cards.

  Our dinner arrived after dark, a delicious pile of roasted pig, bread, and tropical fruits. Wine had also been delivered as our drink, but the waitress was nice enough to bring some water up when I asked her.

  “She likes you,” Sam said after she left. “She kept tossing her hair for you.”

  “She likes every man here.” Chuckling, I sat back down, pouring her a glass of water. “She works in a whore house. It’s her job to like every man she meets.”

  “I don’t think that’s true.” Tearing off the crust of her bread, she chewed on it thoughtfully. “It’s her job to sexually arouse and please every man she meets. She doesn’t have to like it.”

  “You really want to be technical about prostitutes right now?” Grinning, I passed the cup over to her, enjoying the banter.

  “Actually, no.” Standing, she brushed off her pants and nodded toward the exit. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “Oh.” Gulping down the bite I’d just shoveled into my mouth, I pushed to my feet, hurrying to open the door for her.

  As I’d suspected, the ground floor was even more packed than when we’d arrived, our crew making the most of their leave. Slipping out the rear entrance, we found the privy with ease—it looked like an old outhouse and stank like one too—and I waited outside while Sam did her business.

  After an unusually long time seemed to have passed, I cleared my throat, embarrassed. “Is everything okay in there?” I asked with as much discretion as I could.

  “Yeah.” Her voice was strangely high and strained, with a quiver I hadn’t heard earlier. Before I could ask again, though, the door opened and she came out, her features a mask.

  Not saying a word, she led the way inside, hurrying up to our room. When the door was closed, the mask broke and she looked at me, tears in her eyes.

  “I’m bleeding, Mark.” Her voice caught and the tears started rolling down her face. “The baby—it’s d-dead.”

  “What?” Going to her side, I took her in my arms, holding her as she shook. “Are you sure?”

  “There’s b-blood.” She was struggling to speak, a panic so strong shaking her that even I felt it.

  “How much?” When she didn’t answer, I pulled away some, staring at her sternly. “Sam, some ble
eding during pregnancy is normal. It could be nothing. I won’t know how to help you if you don’t tell me.”

  She nodded, hiccupping as she tried to stop crying, a shaky hand brushing across her face.

  “It wasn’t a lot, just a little spotting, like I’d started my period.”

  “What color was it, bright or dark red?”

  “Bright r-red.”

  Bringing her to me again, I held her tight. Bright red was fresh blood. If there wasn’t a lot, she could just be experiencing some break through bleeding. There was no reason to think she’d lost the baby—yet.

  “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” I told her firmly. “You are going to stay on bed rest the entire time we’re here, do you understand?”

  Nodding, she seemed to calm a little.

  “Everything is fine. This could be normal. I want you to remember that, alright?”

  Slowly, I coached her down from the panic attack and sorrow she’d been feeling, getting her tucked into the bed. I knew my words and actions would only have a small effect on what she was feeling, but it was all I could do.

  “If you start having cramps or bleeding worse, we’ll figure out what to do next then,” I told her reassuringly. “Right now, you need to rest. Let your body figure out what it’s doing and how to take care of you.”

  “Thank you, Mark.” Her voice was quiet and I could see the fear in her eyes. I hated not knowing how to help her find out what she wanted to know, how to tell her if her child was going to live or die.

  But, most of all, I hated that I wasn’t who she needed to be with right then. All I could do was pray that Tristan would find us soon.

  As we sailed away from Nassau, headed for the coast of what would one day be the independent country of Mexico, I felt like crying again. Not for myself, but for Sam, who was currently in the surgery, probably lying just as still as she had the entire time we were on land. We were both too afraid to say what we thought was happening—that the bed rest hadn’t made any difference.

  Her bleeding hadn’t increased, just the occasional spotting continually showing up to worry us. Cramping had joined in the mix as well, but the pains were few and far between. Symptoms like morning sickness and fatigue had remained in the past, too. There was nothing we could do to physically check the baby; it was still too young for her to be able to feel its movements and the heartbeat wouldn’t be strong enough to try and listen to with a makeshift stethoscope.

  All we could do was wait and see what would happen. Maybe the bleeding would stop, or she would deliver the baby, small as it was, and we would move on from there. It was my sincere hope that everything would be fine. She may have only been a few weeks along, but Sam was obviously attached to the kid already. I’d seen the way she touched her stomach and heard her whispering softly to the child when she thought I was sleeping. It was the only thing keeping her from trying to escape, the only thing making her go on as she waited for her husband, not knowing when or if he would come. If she lost it, I didn’t know what would occur.

  “You seem reserved, Mark.” Captain Randall joined me at the bow of the ship, an orange in his hand. He rarely used my real name, which made me think I was about to be scolded for something. “Where is our lady friend today?”

  “She’s not feeling well.” It was a short answer, but one I hoped he would leave alone for now. However, Thomas Randall wasn’t one to let his questions go completely unanswered.

  “What happened while we were on land?” he asked tersely, throwing his peelings over into the water. “Something is different. I want to know what it is. I’m your captain—your brother—so tell me.”

  Sighing, I peered around to see if anyone was nearby. Up ahead, a man sat in the rigging, seeming to rest in the light of the sun after climbing up and releasing the sails when we set out. Behind us, a few people stood around a barrel of rum, laughing as they drank freely from the newly acquired luxury. In our immediate area, there was only the two of us, and I looked him in the eye frowning.

  “She’s losing the baby,” I told him softly. “Or she might be. I don’t know. She needs a midwife, someone who can better tell her what’s going on.”

  I didn’t know why I always told him the truth. Maybe it was because I thought he would uncover any lie I uttered, or because I thought it was best to just have things the way they were, rather than try to remember some elaborate story I’d concocted. Either way, I knew this was important. He would have to listen to me, to get Sam the help she needed, if he wanted her to stay alive long enough for whatever plans he had.

  Of course, there were no midwives at sea, which meant I was about to find out what he thought of the whole thing.

  “Is she sick?” He didn’t ask out of care and his tone made it apparent. She was spoken of as if she were goods for trade.

  “Not yet, but she will be if it continues on. If she really is losing it, the baby needs to come out soon. If it doesn’t, she could get an infection. That would make her sick enough to kill her if it’s not taken care of.”

  He stared blankly at my answer and I belatedly remembered that he wouldn’t have any idea what the word infection meant. It didn’t matter, though; he had gotten the message well enough.

  “How long before you know if she’s lost the child?” he asked abruptly.

  “If she keeps bleeding like she is, I can’t say for sure. It could still go either way.”

  Without even stopping to think about it, he shared his plan with me. “We will sail on to Veracruz. If she hasn’t gone either way by then, we will find a midwife for her.”

  “That’s almost two weeks!” I argued. “She needs someone who knows how to take care of her now, to help calm her down before she loses it.”

  “Then I suggest you make sure she doesn’t get to that point,” he shot back coldly. “Brotherhood or not, I gave you a task to do—keep her alive and find out what she knows. I don’t think I have to tell you what happens when you fail at both.”

  Snapping my mouth shut, I leaned away from him, trying to keep my eyes from narrowing. There was nothing more I would have liked to do besides punch him in the nose. Samantha was possibly entering into a life or death situation and all he cared about was if I’d managed to find out where the treasure really was.

  Taking a slice from his treat, he placed it in his mouth, the juice rolling down his chin as he bit into it.

  “I haven’t asked her where it is yet,” I said through gritted teeth. “She isn’t to the point where she would tell me anything.”

  “I didn’t think she ever would be.” Swiping his arm across his face, he caught the extra liquid on his sleeve. “It’s obvious to any idiot with eyes that she’s in love with that idiot Dog, O’Rourke. She’s taken to you for some reason, though. She trusts you. And you love her.” Raising an eyebrow, he waited for me to deny it.

  I didn’t give him the satisfaction.

  “She has a pretty face.” Continuing in an offhand manner, he slowly ate his fruit, looking over the water. “A woman unlike any other I’ve come across. Of course, she would be, since she’s from another time. But she’s still the beguiling sex that has done nothing but underhand progress from the start of all time, exotic or not. You would do well to remember that, Snake Eyes. She will turn on you the second she doesn’t need you anymore.”

  Shaking with fury, I bit my tongue, facing away from him instead of replying.

  “Don’t believe me? I’ve seen her do it. If you think she’s an innocent, maybe you should ask her about when we left her in La Coruna, what she did to her own husband.” He laughed, a low, throaty sound, and stepped in front of me again. “She slept with the captain, right under O’Rourke’s nose, and then left without saying a word. In all my life, I’ve never figured out why he forgave her for it.”

  “Perhaps your information is wrong,” I replied, as coolly as possible.

  “Perhaps. You should also ask her about James Abby, the man she left for dead in the pit on Oak Isle. If yo
u wanted, I could tell you about the men I watched her kill personally, cutting them down without a second thought.”

  His words were sinking in and he knew it. A strange sort of triumph gleamed in his eyes as he continued to drag her through the mud, making outrageous claims against her character.

  At the same time, I felt my own heart hurt at his words, my brain unwilling to believe what he was saying. Sam would never hurt anyone! But, a small voice in the back of my mind reminded me of what I had done to survive here. It was more than likely that she’d done her fair share of regretful things in order to make it by.

  “Men are waiting for us in Mexico City,” Randall said, returning my attention to him. “Once we arrive there, we’ll have all we need to continue north. You and I will follow the path of the last, great Black Knight—and we will find the treasure. The world will be at our fingertips. Would you let a woman keep you from that?”

  His words brought a realization to me and I shook my head, wanting him to leave. “No, Captain. I wouldn’t.”

  “Good.” Even if only mildly convinced, he nodded, looking past me to something up by the helm of the ship. “Make sure she doesn’t die.” Without another word, he pushed past me, heading toward whatever had caught his attention.

  Hurrying below deck, I slipped into the surgery, closing the door behind me and held a finger up to my mouth. Sam, from her spot on the table, stared at me questioningly, arranging the blanket so she could sit up.

  Stepping closer, I whispered quickly, not wanting to risk any chance of a long, drawn out conversation that someone would overhear.

  “Randall already knows where the treasure is,” I said quietly, right in her ear. “He has men waiting to join us in Mexico City. He said they’d be following the path of the last, great, Black Knight. He’s not waiting on any information from you.”