She licked her lips and let her head fall back, enjoying his touch way too much. Damn the roomful of people. This was their party.
“Are they treating you well?” he asked.
Two voices made their way down the hall. Morgan tensed and his head came up. His hands tightened on her waist and Juliana leaned against him. The voices grew louder, then faded as they passed the door and continued on.
Morgan pulled away from her. “Not the smartest thing to do in a house full of people,” he said as he adjusted her bodice. “You didn’t tell me if they’re treating you well.”
“And what are you going to do if they’re not?” she teased. “Beat them up?”
“It wouldn’t be proper to beat up a bunch of tight-assed ladies.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’d beat up their husbands.”
She laughed and hugged him. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I can take care of myself. I’ve been fighting my own battles for a long time now.”
She turned to open the door but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to anymore, Juliana. You have me now.”
“As much as I appreciate it, Morgan, I can still stand on my own two feet.”
He opened his mouth to say more, then closed it.
“What were you and Patrick discussing when we arrived?”
The shutters fell over his eyes. Juliana knew that look well.
“You were talking about Barun, weren’t you?”
“Juliana—”
“I thought we were going to forget about him for tonight.”
“I can’t forget about him, especially tonight.”
“You think he’ll show up here?” While preparing for her wedding, and the blissful days after, she tried to push thoughts of Barun to the back of her mind. He was constantly there, a silent shadow, deadly, hovering. Never going far, always casting a pall over everything she thought, everything she did. But she tried her hardest not to let him intrude on the happiest days of her life.
A shiver of dread raced through her and left in its wake a trail of foreboding. The orchestra struck up a tune, reminding Juliana where they were and why they were here.
“Do you think he’ll be here?”
“Isabelle, Reed and Patrick and I have made this place as impenetrable as we can. I think he would be a fool to come here.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Do you think he will be here?”
He pressed his lips together and she could tell he didn’t want to answer. His silence was answer enough.
“Be careful,” he said. “And don’t go roaming unattended halls again.”
He was being cautious and protective. She didn’t fault him for wanting to keep everyone safe. Even so she had an uncontrollable urge to peer into the shadows of the darkened room to search for Barun. Of course he wasn’t here. He would be stupid to try to penetrate Morgan’s defenses at such a well-attended ball. Still she couldn’t help the shiver of unease racing up her spine.
“I won’t.” She frowned, noticing for the first time the way his brows dipped low and the touch of pain in his eyes. She traced a line down his temple with the tips of her fingers. “How’s your head? Still hurting?”
He grimaced. “Yes. But I’ll be fine as soon as I have you under me.” He grinned wickedly and she laughed, relieved he’d erased some of the tension inside her.
She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Morgan.”
He pulled her into him and she rested her head against his shoulder. “I love you too. I think we better rejoin the other guests before people start talking.”
Reluctantly she nodded and he opened the door, stuck his head into the hallway and pulled her forward. Quickly she looked down to make sure everything was in place and together they walked to the ballroom. As soon as they entered, Reed pulled Morgan away to talk about a new ship he wanted to purchase for the company, leaving Juliana to wander the huge room of people she didn’t know, who were here to celebrate her wedding, but really wanted to talk about her behind her back. People, it seemed, were the same no matter what century you were in.
She grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter and, spotting Sophia and Isabelle across the room, headed in their direction. She could always count on Sophia to put a smile on her face and lift her mood.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Morgan watched his wife walk away, noting the lack of excitement in her eyes that had been there earlier in the evening. His head was pounding furiously and absently he rubbed his forehead. He felt for Juliana. She had such high hopes of making her first real party and a celebration of their wedding a success. Although Sylvia’s heart had been in the right place, the people she invited were no more interested in him and Juliana than they were the fishmonger. They came to see and be seen and to gossip. Unfortunately, Juliana was the brunt of their gossip.
He watched her grab a glass of wine and lift her chin. It was as if she were pulling her armor around her, insulating herself from the whispers behind her back. The kids in school hadn’t been any nicer and she had a lot of practice ignoring them growing up.
He would give them another hour then take her away from here, back to his home—now their home—where they would lock the rest of the world away. And he would tell her he was leaving first thing in the morning. He grimaced and his headache flared. Juliana hooked up with Sophia and he saw her first real smile since the end of dinner.
“Any sign of Barun,” he asked Reed.
“No sign,” Reed said.
The heat from the hundreds of candles and the overwhelming odor of so many powdered and perfumed bodies in such a small space was making his headache worse. “I’m going outside to check the perimeter.” Maybe fresh air would help as well.
“There’s no need. I spoke with John a little while ago. Everything is quiet out there.”
His stomach pitched. The wine he swallowed settled uneasily and he feared his headache was becoming something much worse. “All the same,” he muttered. “I’m going out.”
“Don’t stay too long,” Reed advised. “Or Sylvia will come after you.”
Juliana stood at the edge of the party. A wallflower. She stifled the urge to wring her hands. No one was looking at her but the two ladies across the way were probably talking about her. She hated this. Sophia had been pulled away by some friends, leaving Juliana on her own. She tried striking up conversations but they were stilted and she knew the people didn’t really want to talk with her. She was also nervous around so many people, convinced she would make a mistake and reveal she wasn’t from this time. Of course her story was that she’d come from Barbados so that would cover any mistakes but what if someone started asking questions about Barbados? Ugh. She should have taken Morgan’s advice and cancelled the party.
She made her way to the corner of the room where a matronly woman sat with a smile on her round, pale face and watched the crowd, her toes tapping to the music. She looked up at Juliana and her smile widened. Juliana smiled back and relaxed a bit.
John, Morgan’s trusty night watchman emerged from the crowd, obviously uncomfortable amongst the glittering people. She saw him come in and out all night. Each time he pulled on his collar and his gaze darted around the room as if he were scared of the people. She commiserated. She was scared too. Okay, not scared. But she certainly didn’t like it any better than he did.
“Hello, John.”
“Mrs. Langtree.” The young man inclined his head as he stepped closer. “Um…” He paused and glanced around.
“Is something wrong?”
His eyes flicked this way and that before landing on her, then sliding away. “It’s the captain, ma’am.”
“Morgan?”
He nodded and took another look around, then bent so his lips were close to her ear. She smelled the distinct and nearly overpowering odor of rum and frowned. Morgan wouldn’t be pleased the men were drinking. Not tonight.
“He’s not feelin’ well, ma’am. Said
he needed you.”
Her stomach muscles tightened. Earlier she could tell he’d been in pain but he said it was nothing more than a headache. Still, headaches could become miserable especially in this heat with the loud music and conversations competing with one another.
“Where is he?”
“Outside.” John pulled on his collar. His face was bright red. “Said he needed fresh air, but he ain’t lookin’ too great, ma’am. I thought maybe I should come and get you.”
“You did the right thing, John. Please, take me to him.”
Patrick pulled Morgan into the same room Morgan pulled Juliana into earlier and closed the door tightly behind them.
“What is it?” Morgan asked, sensing Patrick’s agitation. Leaving the ballroom helped his headache but it still pounded behind his eyes.
“I was havin’ meself a little smoke outside, seein’ as how Lady Isabelle’s aunt won’t allow us to smoke in the house and all.”
“Yes, yes.” Morgan knew Patrick had gone out for a smoke, he told him so the last time they spoke.
“Well now,” said the little man. “Didn’t I see Thomas Hamilton run up the steps, all out of breath and such as if he’d been running for his very life? So’s I stopped ’im and asked ’im what devil was chasin’ ’im. And didn’t he tell me the most interesting story?”
Morgan made a hurry-up motion with his hand because he still wanted to get outside and breathe fresh air in the hopes his headache would at least dull to a distant roar.
“He told me he found our John talkin’ to Barun. Just this evenin’, he did. Right before the beginning of this here party. Said the two of ’em were head to head, deep in conversation.” Patrick rolled back on his heels. “Real chummy like.”
Morgan’s head snapped up. “John?” Not John. John was one of his most trusted men. Morgan had picked the boy up from a Navy vessel years ago and saved him from the harsh, horrendous life of the Royal Navy. John was as loyal—more loyal—than any other man besides Patrick.
Patrick’s faded blue eyes told the truth though. Thomas wouldn’t lie and he wouldn’t repeat such a blasphemous story if it weren’t true. Patrick knew it too.
“Son of a bitch.” Morgan’s fists curled. “John’s in charge of the perimeter. If he’s as close to Barun as Thomas says then Barun could very well be here right now.”
Juliana hitched her skirts and followed John through the dark gardens of Sylvia’s home. When John stopped she quickly stepped around him, dropped her skirts and peered into the darkness. They were far from the house, in an area dense with trees. She no longer heard the music from the ball and only the moon lit their way. Why would Morgan come all the way out here when he’d told her to stick close to the house?
“Where is he?”
John pointed to a place where the trees were heaviest and the shadows dense. The moon glinted off a stone bench and the faint outline of a man on the bench with his head cradled in his hands, elbows on knees.
Morgan found Sophia in a gaggle of giggling girls who instantly quieted when he approached. He’d ordered Patrick to scour the perimeter for John. Reed had been sent to summon his carriage and Isabelle was collecting her and Juliana’s wraps. The only one missing out of the group was Juliana and the nagging feeling he’d had all night began screeching like a fire alarm inside him. It took every bit of willpower not to tear the place apart looking for her. He thanked God he told her to stick to the ballroom and not wander away again. She was here. Somewhere. She had to be.
“Where’s Juliana?” he asked Sophia.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I saw her last over there.” She pointed her fan to the far corner of the ballroom.
“When?”
“A few minutes ago. Why? Is everything all right?”
“Go to Isabelle,” he ordered. “We’re leaving as soon as I find Juliana.”
He walked swiftly to the corner Sophia indicated. The crush of people hindered his progress. Long past being polite, he began to push his way through but when he got there, Juliana wasn’t there. He cursed and his stomach tightened.
Juliana gasped and took a step back. That wasn’t Morgan on the bench. It was Barun. She turned to run and collided with John, who wrapped his arms around her in a tight bear hug, pinning her arms to her side. She cried out and struggled but her skirts wrapped around her legs, immobilizing her.
A plump, matronly woman sitting a few feet away glanced up at Morgan. “Are you looking for your lovely wife?”
“Have you seen her?”
She smiled up at him, flashing dimples in her pale, round face. “Why I believe I saw her leave with a red-headed fellow. It seemed as if he were nervous. When he spoke to Mrs. Langtree she grew quite agitated and left with him. Is everything all right, dear?”
Juliana left with John. Son of a bitch!
“Do you know which way they went?” he asked.
“I believe they used the terrace doors to go outside.”
God bless nosy women.
Morgan raced out the terrace doors and made his way to the deepest shadows at the side of the house where he took his dagger out of his boot and cursed his oversight in not securing another weapon nearby.
He headed toward the heaviest line of trees. If Barun was going to take her from here, he would do it in a place he wasn’t easily seen.
What the hell happened? How had he slipped through the nearly impenetrable line of defenses he and Isabelle and Reed set up?
Of course they hadn’t counted on John being the spy. Never John. The betrayal cut deep. If Juliana came to any harm, if there was one scrape, one bruise on her, Barun and John would pay with their lives.
Once Morgan reached the tree line he stopped and listened. The music from the ball was faint. Everything else was quiet. There were no insect noises and nothing from the street reached this far into the trees even though they weren’t far from the alley that backed up to the Parker's estate.
Faintly he heard voices coming from his left. Too close to be from the ball, too far to distinguish. He moved in that direction, picking his steps carefully, keeping to the darker shadows. He controlled his breathing in order to hear better, but no matter what he did he couldn’t control the heavy beating of his heart. He stopped short of stepping into a small clearing. The shadows cloaked him and he tightened his hold on his dagger. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
Juliana was in the middle of the clearing, her hands tied behind her back. John was beside her, gripping her arm in a bruising hold. A pistol was pressed into her side. Morgan ground his teeth together but remained still. Waiting for what he knew was to come.
Barun, dressed for a ball in black breeches and coat with a white shirt and cravat, stepped in front of Juliana and looked right at Morgan’s position.
“I see you’ve solved the problem of making me search for you.”
Juliana’s head jerked up. Her eyes were wide with fear as she searched the tree line for him.
Even though he wanted to jump into the clearing, yank her from John’s grasp and plunge his dagger into Barun’s heart, Morgan forced himself to remain still. He couldn’t move faster than a pistol ball and if he rushed John the man would shoot Juliana.
I want you to kill me if he takes me.
He pushed the words away. There was a way out of this. There had to be. He wouldn’t lose her now, not after all they’d been through and what it had taken for them to be together again. He simply wouldn’t allow it.
“I know you are there, daasa. There is no escape.”
Morgan curled his fingers into a fist. Barun was looking right at him, right through the shadows cloaking him. It was this type of mind game that made Barun seem all-knowing. But Morgan knew he wasn’t. Barun was bluffing, playing games with Juliana’s mind the way he’d played games with Morgan’s while being held prisoner.
“Step out,” Barun said.
Morgan didn’t move. Barun nodded to John and John cocked the hammer, shoving the barrel i
nto Juliana’s side. She winced but didn’t make a sound.
There was no doubt now. Barun wasn’t playing mind games. He knew Morgan was in the trees watching. He’d been followed. He and Juliana had been set up and he neatly walked into Barun’s trap. More than likely Barun’s men were behind him and he was cut off from the party. Bloody hell! Why hadn’t he told anyone where he was going? Why had he run out of the ball without reinforcements?
A man materialized on each side of him. One stripped his dagger from him, the other held his hands behind his back. Morgan struggled but he knew it was useless. He couldn’t run back to the ball and sound the alarm. They walked out of the shadows. Juliana locked gazes with him, her eyes huge in her pale face. The gown she’d carefully chosen for her first ball and for their introduction as husband and wife into society was now torn and dirtied.
Morgan struggled against his captors’ hold. “You got what you want, Barun. Let her go.”
“Not nearly what I want. But almost. Almost.”
Morgan lunged, but the men behind him held tight and Barun merely laughed.
“It will be a pleasant day to see you in shackles again, daasa. There will be no escape this time.” He moved closer to Juliana. She flinched from him but John held her still and Barun touched her shoulder. Morgan’s anger churned inside him, eating at his good sense which was exactly what Barun wanted. Even knowing this he still struggled.
“I will think of you rotting on my ship as you row until your heart gives out.” His hand moved from her shoulder to her neck. His fingers twined through a curl. Morgan growled. “And you will think of me making love to your woman.”
Morgan broke the hold. He rushed John and punched him. The man hit the ground and Morgan spun around to face Barun.
“Run, Juliana,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Get out of here.” He wasn’t going to win this fight, not with three against one, but he could buy her enough time to escape and maybe get help.
“Get the hell out of here, Juliana! Now!”
She picked up her skirts and started to run.
Wherever You Are Page 19
