He took her hand and unwound the bandage. Juliana swallowed her useless, stupid tears. Their time was up. Four days had passed. Barun would be coming for her tomorrow and she didn’t want to spend the rest of their time living in stilted silence, angry at Morgan.
He studied the burn on her hand, washed it with what little clean water they had left and re-bandaged it. “It’s not healing as well as it should,” he said, tying it closed. “You need to eat better.”
“There seems to be a lack of fruits and vegetables on this cruise ship.”
One corner of his mouth lifted in a semblance of a smile. “We should demand our money back.”
Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them away. This was what she missed, the camaraderie, the closeness. “I miss you, Morgan.”
“I’m right here.”
“Are you?”
He dropped her hand. “What do you want me to do, Juliana? Pretend everything’s okay? Pretend my wife isn’t sneaking out at night to meet another man?”
“It’s not like that and you know it. I’m doing the best I can, but I need you. I need you to help me. Support me. Tell me what to do.”
He looked away and blew out a breath. His chest rose and fell as if he were controlling his own tears. “I’m as lost as you are.”
The words cost him. Ate at his self-esteem, eroded his dignity. He should be the one rescuing them and he was helpless and hurt. Useless, he had to be thinking.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked again.
“No.” Not this time and not since he branded her. In fact, Barun had been the perfect gentlemen when they were together but that didn’t make her less on edge. It made things worse because she knew it couldn’t last. Eventually he would turn on her again. It was in his nature.
“What do you see? When you’re up top? Land?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“And his crew? What are they like?”
She thought back, pictured Barun’s crew. “They’re scared. He’s not a nice captain. They won’t look at me. And will only look at him if he speaks to them. There’re no sea shanties being sung like there is on your ship. No laughter.”
“No hope from that quarter,” he said.
“No. Maybe John. If I can convince him.”
“He won’t help. He wants to save his brother.”
“Do you think Barun even has his brother?”
Morgan put his hands on his hips and she was happy to see the desperation, the helplessness gone, at least for the moment. He was moving easier. Even the swelling in his knee had gone down and he could bend it a little more. “I don’t know. But it’s taking too long to convince John. What about weapons?”
“Most of the crew have daggers, but not pistols. Barun carries the lance everywhere with him. Never lets it out of his sight.”
“And John? Does he carry a weapon?”
“No.” She sighed in frustration. “Not when he comes to get me.”
Morgan nodded, his eyes far away.
“Are you thinking of staging a coup?” she asked. “Leading a mutiny?”
He grinned. “It has possibilities, but I don’t think it will work.”
No. She’d thought that too.
“Our best bet is to wait until we reach land, but we don’t have that much time, do we, Juliana?”
She met his unflinching gaze. How had he known? “No,” she whispered.
“How much time do we have left?”
She closed her eyes in pain. “Tomorrow. He’s coming for me tomorrow.”
He made a low sound and when she opened her eyes, he’d turned away from her.
“Is this how it ends?” she asked softly. “Have we both traveled hundreds of years, found each other again, to have it end like this?”
He hung his head and rubbed his eyes, his back still to her. When he turned around, his eyes were moist with tears. “I’d like to say no. I’d like to storm out of this goddamn room and kill the bastard for you.”
She squared her shoulders as an idea took shape. “Then let’s do it.”
He blinked and stared at her for the longest time. “Do what?”
“Let’s get out of this room and kill the bastard. What’s the use in waiting?”
“There are at least a hundred men out there loyal to him who would kill us in a heartbeat.”
“And if we stay? If we wait for him to come get me? What happens then? I’d rather die fighting.”
For the first time, there was hope in his eyes. “We could overpower John. You said he doesn’t come with a weapon.”
“We would need a weapon.”
“Not necessarily.” He flexed his fingers. Was he thinking of killing with those hands?
“We can’t sail this ship by ourselves,” she said.
“No. But we could steal a tender.”
“We’re days from any land.”
“Isabelle will find us.”
“Isabelle? How do you know she’ll find us?”
“Because I told her what happened.”
Juliana blinked. “What’d you do, call her on the telephone?”
He laughed and told her about Patrick showing up on the lawn outside the ball. “When Barun threatened your life I told Patrick we were sailing on the Thomas to Isabelle’s home on Barbados. The Thomas sailed several weeks earlier, and Isabelle doesn’t have a home in Barbados. Reed was forced to sell it after she was injured. I took a chance Patrick would understand the message and realize we were in trouble.”
“Do you think she understood?”
“I hope so.” His looked turned serious and he reached for her good hand, held it tightly in his. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. We have to be realistic, Juliana. Our chances of making it out alive are slim. The chances of Isabelle finding us are even slimmer. The ocean is large, a mile in either direction and she may not see Barun’s ship.”
She squeezed back. “I’d rather die fighting,” she repeated. “I’d rather die with you beside me than at Barun’s hands.”
“Tomorrow night, then. When John comes for you.” He tried to pull away but she tightened her hold on him.
“There’s something you should know. Something I need to tell you.”
His face paled and his lips thinned. “He…hurt you, didn’t he? Ah, God, Juliana, did he rape you?”
She shook her head. “No. Nothing like that.” She looked away and gathered her courage. “Promise you’ll stick to our plan even after I tell you.”
“Juliana, damn it, tell me.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m pregnant.”
His hand went slack in hers. She saw his Adam’s apple bob when he took a swallow and what little color had been left in his face drained. She knew his thoughts probably mirrored hers. They were going to have a baby and they probably weren’t going to survive.
He pulled her against him, held her tight and rocked her. Juliana buried her face in his shoulder and cried. His muscles were like rocks, strung tight with emotion he wouldn’t let go. So she let go for both of them and when he pulled away, his face was set with determination.
“Then we’d better make sure we get out of this alive,” he said.
Morgan held Juliana through the night. As soon as they lay down, she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep, yet sleep wouldn’t come for him so he held her and watched her. He even prayed a little. But mostly he thought. Of their plan. Of the baby.
My God. A baby. He should have known. Should have seen the signs—the sickness, the weight loss. He rubbed his chin against the top of her head and closed his eyes. His hand cupped her belly where their baby grew. Safe. But not safe if Barun found out. The thought turned his stomach and he felt a fierce protectiveness toward this tiny, fragile life.
He had more to fight for now. As if Juliana wasn’t enough, now he had their child’s life to fight for. Hope. He thought he’d lost it, but Juliana had given it back.
Even if they didn�
��t survive he would have this moment. His family.
He turned his head and rested his cheek against her hair. She breathed deep and snuggled closer. His family.
She shuddered and he rubbed her arms until she stopped trembling. Dawn was approaching. He could tell by the noises coming from above. Not much more time before John came for her. Before their plan was put into action. He felt a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. And a great deal of satisfaction that he was at least doing something instead of sitting around useless.
But the painful truth was he was no match against Barun. Not now. In a few weeks, a month, maybe. They would have to be quick. In and out. Kill him and get on the tender. Row fast. In the dark, before anyone knew they were missing. John would be the first to suspect, but Morgan was hoping the man would understand and keep his mouth shut. At least until they were far enough away.
It could work. If luck and time were on their side.
The door flew open and banged against the wall. Morgan jumped to his feet, pulling a groggy Juliana behind him.
Barun stood in the open doorway. Automatically Morgan reached for his cutlass but it wasn’t there.
“No,” Juliana whispered. Then louder, “No!”
Morgan’s stomach knotted. Not now. They wouldn’t be able to escape in the light of day.
“You agreed, sanam.”
Juliana clung to Morgan and he felt her body tremble against his. John wasn’t in the room. Where was he? What had Barun done to him?
“One more day,” she begged Barun. “Please give me a day. I’ll go with you after that. I promise.”
Barun stepped closer and Morgan shoved Juliana farther behind him.
Barun’s mouth turned down into a sneer. “Protecting the slave, sanam? What is this?” He flicked a derisive glance at Morgan. “What happened to the woman who has been with me the last several evenings?” Barun leered, his words meant to indicate they had done more than dine together and walk the deck. Morgan refused to give the man the satisfaction of a reaction.
The lance was tucked beneath Barun’s arm and his fingers played with the hilt as he eyed Morgan but spoke to Juliana. “Have you been fooling me, sanam? Pretending your affections while plotting behind my back?”
Morgan heard her small gasp and prayed Barun hadn’t. But the man narrowed his eyes and Morgan knew yet another prayer had gone unanswered.
With a battle cry that bounced off the walls, Morgan lunged for Barun. The man side-stepped and hit him against the side of his head with the flat end of the lance. Morgan stumbled and went down on one knee. The second blow toppled him over and the stars dancing before his eyes went black.
“No!” Juliana dropped to her knees beside Morgan.
Hands grabbed her around the middle and pulled her back. She fought. Desperately, she fought to get to her husband.
Barun’s fingers dug deep into her waist and she was hauled away. She screamed Morgan’s name as she kicked, not caring anymore about the games she’d been playing or the deals she made. The door closed, locking Morgan on the other side. Barun put her down and her legs gave out as she reached for the closed door. Barun dragged her away by her arm but before she left, she caught a glimpse of John in the shadows.
“John!” She reached for him. “John, please. Help us.” Barun pushed her down the corridor and she frantically looked over her shoulder. “John!” she screamed. “Please,” she begged. “Help,” she whispered as she was dragged away.
Barun took her to the gilded cabin and shoved her into the room. She stumbled, hit her head on the bedpost and wrapped her arms around it to keep from falling over. She felt drained, exhausted. Malnutrition and the near constant nausea from the baby had all taken its toll. She tried to summon the energy to fight, knew this was her last chance. Somehow she had to make it back to Morgan, save him, save herself. Get off the ship.
Stick to the plan. She could hear Morgan’s voice in her head. Stick to the plan, Juliana. Fight. Kill him if you have to.
Barun’s smile was cruel, vicious. “You are my wife now, sanam. You will do as I say. I never want to hear the slave’s name again, not even in your thoughts.” He stepped closer until his breath blew against her neck. “And I will know your thoughts.”
He squeezed her throat, cutting off her air. She gasped and pulled on his wrist. His forearm trembled with the pressure. The veins in his forehead popped out. What sanity had been in his eyes was gone and in them she saw death.
The room dimmed. She heard herself gurgling, but it was a far-off sound. She fought to stay alert, to draw in another breath. His fingers dug into her skin and then suddenly he released her. The air whooshed back into her lungs. She doubled over, dragging in one lungful after another until her vision returned.
“That was for thinking of the slave. You will not think of him again. And you will pay for lying to me all these days.”
He squeezed her breast. She flinched. His other hand squeezed her other breast and she averted her eyes.
Her gaze darted around the room, looking at anything but Barun and his hands on her body. His cold fingers plunged into the bodice of her gown. She shivered and bit her lip to keep from crying out. He yanked the bodice down. The flimsy material ripped and she was exposed from her shoulders to her waist. She reached behind her, wrapped her arms around the bedpost and closed her eyes, trying to take her mind to a different place.
He bit her neck. His lips seared her, scorching her skin. Hers trembled and she realized she was about to cry.
Crying, Juliana? She blinked the tears away and thought of sunflowers and lazy summer afternoons, of bees flying between the flowers, of the sound of children’s voices raised in play. Of pink jump ropes with green handles and blond-haired boys with skinned knees.
Morgan opened his eyes but all he saw was gray smoke. No. Not smoke. He blinked and slowly things started to focus. He was staring at the wall of the damn prison Barun was keeping him in. His head pounded like a son of a bitch and he groaned, closing his eyes again. But they flew open when he remembered why his head hurt. Juliana. Barun had taken Juliana away.
Quickly he rolled onto his hands and knees, but that made the dizziness worse. He hung his head waiting for it to pass.
When he looked up, John was standing in front of him.
“You bastard.” Morgan lunged and shoved John against the wall, his forearm across the man’s neck. John pulled on Morgan’s arms as his face went red, then white and his lips turned blue.
“I should kill you right now.” He pushed harder. “Right here.” John’s eyes widened. “Where’s Juliana?”
The man gurgled and Morgan eased the pressure. “Barun took her to his cabin.”
Morgan stepped back and noticed the door to his prison was open.
“I brought your dagger and a cutlass.” John pointed to the weapons lying on the floor. “She couldn’t… I couldn’t…” John swallowed. “She screamed.” His eyes were haunted. Scared, but determined. “I can’t do it anymore. He has her. He has her and—”
“And you need to help us.” Morgan interrupted. “Take me to her.”
Barun’s hand slid up Juliana’s skirt and touched her thigh. She closed her eyes, fought the bile clogging her throat and clutched the bedpost behind her. A whimper bubbled up, threatened to escape but she swallowed it.
He reached the juncture of her thighs and her eyes snapped open. Barun was all but panting now, his eyes glazed and unfocused. It was the first time she’d ever seen him without the tight control he usually exhibited and she knew this was her moment. Maybe the only moment she would get. She looked around the room, trying to find any sort of weapon.
And then she saw it. The Holy Lance lying in the middle of the bed, thrown there by Barun and all but forgotten by him. She glanced back as he dipped his head and kissed the tip of her breast.
With all of her strength she shoved him away. He stumbled back, his hands ripped from beneath her gown, his lips wet. He looked confused. She reached behind h
er, grabbed the lance and raised it high.
He had no time to duck, no time to even lift his arms in self-defense. She thrust it down and the lance sank into his shoulder, hitting bone and muscle with a sickening crunch that made her shudder. Blood spurted from the cut but she closed her mind to it and continued to plunge the lance into him until she didn’t have the strength to push any more.
Barun opened his mouth, his hands scrambling for the hilt. She pushed him away and watched, a part of her horrified at what she was seeing and what she’d done but a larger part satisfied. He made strange gurgling sounds, his fingers slipping on the bloody hilt. He fell back, his fingers still fumbling. Their gazes locked. She refused to look away. All of her disgust, the horror and terror and fury rose to the surface and she let it show in her face. He saw it. His eyes widened. Blood was pouring out of his shoulder, coating his arm, running onto the floor, the coppery scent of it overpowering, but still she refused to look away.
There was no regret, no sorrow, no remorse for what she’d done. In fact, she wished she hit a main artery. Or his shriveled heart. If he even had one.
She wanted to say something to let him know how relieved she was that she might have killed him but there were no words to convey her feelings so she watched. And waited for him to die.
Except he wasn’t dying. He was looking at her with an odd blankness, but he wasn’t dying.
“Damn you,” she whispered. “Die, you bastard.”
He smiled, an evil, horrendous smile that turned her blood cold.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Morgan shoved his shoulder into the door of the cabin. It crashed against the wall, a leather hinge breaking under the force.
His mind conjured up picture after picture of Barun and Juliana together, one more horrible than the last. What he hadn’t expected was Juliana standing in the middle of the room, her bodice ripped and blood on her face and hands.
Wherever You Are Page 24
