“How long have we been at sea?” she asked as he set the pot on the floor beside her bunk.
“Twenty-seven days, miss.”
Almost a month! She swallowed, her throat still raw from heaving up her belly. “How much longer at sea?”
The boy glanced at the steps and back. “I ain’t ter talk to ye, miss.”
Emma gave him her best smile. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” she said with a wink.
His little lips twitched. “Awwrite. Should be another eighteen days, maybe more.”
Eighteen days. She closed her eyes and prayed Lucian would find them before they reached land. Would be much easier to get her away from Sorrington on the sea. Too many places to hide her on land.
Emma opened her eyes to ask another question but found the boy gone. She placed her palms on the wooden table and hefted herself to her feet. Giving the bunk a longing glance, she walked up on deck instead. The air, warm and humid, was like breathing in soup. Sweat beaded around her hairline and rolled down her back. At least the air moved up here.
“You look pale,” Sorrington said, coming to her side at the rail.
Glancing out at the green-gray water, to the little white triangles on top of the waves, she breathed in the briny air. “Typical of being kidnapped, I’m sure.” Emma couldn’t help herself. Nettling Sorrington felt too good.
He pulled a sour face. “You will soon find I am the better choice.”
She snorted and shook her head. Like hell.
“Once we get to—”
“A ship,” called a man from the crow’s nest. “Fast approaching, she is.”
Emma’s heart did a flip as she turned to scan the horizon. She saw nothing but puffy clouds in an assortment of grays crowding out the sky. Sorrington grabbed her arm. “Come,” he said, yanking her to the steps.
While Emma scrambled to keep her balance, Sorrington shoved her in the dining room, then pushed her into her tiny cabin. “Not one sound from you,” he growled and slammed the door.
Sitting on the bunk, Emma’s heart raced. She picked at her thumbnail, waiting an eternity. When the ship slowed, she held her breath for several heartbeats. Lucian. It had to be. He found her.
Bootsteps clattered above. Emma pressed a hand to her chest, waiting. Hoping. Lucian would search the ship. Wouldn’t he?
What if the crewmen lied about her being onboard? Sorrington assured her he had the men in his pocket, and they would not betray him. She chewed on her thumbnail. How would she let Lucian know she was here?
What if it wasn’t Lucian at all?
Glancing at the swaying lantern hooked to the wall, she watched it swing back and forth till it stilled. A man called something she could not make out. Nibbling on her bottom lip, she slid off the bunk and crept to the door. Placing her ear against the wood, she listened, but heard nothing on the other side. No steps, no movement at all. Where was Sorrington?
Holding her breath, she lifted the latch. The door did not open. With a frown, she yanked and pulled. It did not budge. Locked inside, then.
Should she scream for help?
Even if it wasn’t Lucian, someone from the other ship might hear. He might help.
As Emma drew in a breath to let out a scream, the door came open. Sorrington stepped inside, fury twisting and mottling his face. She took a step back. “What are you doing?” she asked, bumping into the bunk.
Sorrington closed the door behind him without answering. He turned and placed a finger to his lips, his eyes glittering a warning to heed his command.
The room was much too small for them both. Emma found it difficult to breathe. She wiped the sweat from her brow, trying to think. Had it grown warmer? Sweat slid down her forehead, then dripped in her eyes. She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and mopped her face.
Bootsteps clattered above and Emma stilled. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. Was Lucian coming for her? Her pulse roared. Hope filled her chest. She glanced to Sorrington, to the stiff set of his shoulders, to his balled hands, to the murder in his eyes, and she knew.
Lucian had found her.
Emma could not keep the smile from her lips.
With a snarl, Sorrington moved faster than Emma thought possible. Wrapping his fingers around her neck, he brought her close. Nose to nose, he hissed, “I killed the last Earl of Hartford to get you back. I won’t let you go now.” He squeezed. “I’d rather see you dead than returned to him.”
Twisting and pulling, trying to get away, her fingers clawed at his hands. She could not draw in a breath. Blackness closed in. Her limbs went numb. And her body floated away on a strange gray mist.
“I am sorry, my lord, I have no passengers on board.”
Lucian narrowed his gaze on the captain. The nervous twitch near his left eye spoke otherwise. He nodded to his men, and they raised pistols, startling the packet crew. “I will see for myself,” he ground out.
A cabin boy waved him forward, pointing at the steps that led to the cabins. Lucian hurried to the child, sensing something wrong, Jeremy and Sean on his heels. “You have a lady on board?”
He nodded and flew down the steps, pointing to one of the closed cabin doors.
Lucian pulled open the door, almost tearing the thing from its hinges. Finding Sorrington choking the life from his wife made fury erupt so fast, his vision blurred. With a growl, Lucian reached for the bastard.
Sorrington was no small man. He was tall and wide, heavier than Lucian by almost a stone. Yet, with the amount of rage flowing through Lucian’s veins, he grabbed the man and shoved him into the dining room.
The table slid two feet as Sorrington crashed against it. When the man straightened, Lucian flew forward and threw a punch. Using the full force of his body, he planted his knuckles on the bastard’s nose, hearing the sickening crunch. So enraged, Lucian felt nothing, although his hand should hurt like the devil. “You bastard,” he snarled, throwing another punch, this one to the man’s jaw.
Sorrington wobbled, then his eyes rolled white as he collapsed to the floor.
Spinning around, Lucian found Sean lifting Emma into his arms. He swallowed, unable to get his legs to work. “Is she…?” He couldn’t finish. Guilt exploded, choking him. Never would he forgive himself if he hadn’t arrived in time. Just a few minutes sooner.
When Sean stepped from the tiny cabin, Jeremy leaned down, placing his cheek before her nose. He smiled. “She lives.”
Lucian released his breath. Thank God! He came forward and grazed his fingers against her pale cheek. Then he took her from Sean and held her against his hammering heart. “You’re safe now,” he whispered and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
As he brought Emma to the Enigma and settled her on the large bed in Jack’s quarters, her eyes fluttered. She gazed at him and smiled. “I knew you’d find me.”
Lucian brought her hand to his lips, trying not to frown at the bruises coloring her neck. “I’ll always find you, my love.”
She glanced around, a question in her gaze. “Sorrington?”
“Clapped in chains below deck.” His lips twitched. “With some company.”
Her brows sprang up. “Company? Lucian, you didn’t seize the whole packet?”
Lucian regretted his words. He didn’t wish to tell her about the burned bodies. He shook his head. “No.”
Her brows furrowed. “What are you not telling me?”
He lifted his hand and traced her lips with a finger, then he leaned down and kissed her, hoping to distract her from her questions. “I missed you,” he whispered against her mouth. Turning rock hard, he ended the kiss before he got carried away. Emma needed rest.
Her thick, dark lashes lifted, then her eyes went wide. “Samir?”
Lucian placed his palm against her cheek. “He will recover.”
She relaxed, her hand sliding over his. “Lucian, I’m sorry.” She gave him a squeeze. “I never should have left like I did.”
His thumb swiped across her lips. “Was foo
lish, minx.” He smiled, happy to have her back.
Emma nodded, her eyes solemn. “It was. We should have brought more men with us.”
His smile fled. Lucian crossed his arms, trying not to get angry. “I meant you leaving the house was foolish. You talking me into taking you back to Bristol was foolish. The whole damn treasure hunt was foolish.”
She raised her chin. “Not all hunts are like this,” she argued. “Most are quite boring.”
Lucian bit back his words. Now was not the time to discuss this. He had every intention of keeping his wife safe. From this day forward, he would see that she went on no more hunts. Even the so-called boring ones.
A tap sounded and Lucian called to enter.
Sean stepped inside, carrying a tray. “I thought you might be hungry.” He shuffled forward and set the tray on the table next to the bed. “How are you feeling, Em?”
Lucian watched her swallow hard, her gaze shifting to the bowl of chicken soup and hunk of bread. “I am not hungry, Sean. Would you mind taking that out of here?”
“Of course. I should have asked first.” Sean removed the food from the room.
Emma raked a hand across her forehead. “It is warm. Too warm,” she said.
Watching the green cast to her skin, Lucian grew worried. “Are you ill, Emma?”
She waved a hand before her face and shook her head. “I just need some air.”
Lucian helped her up. She wobbled a couple of steps, and he steadied her with a hand on her arm. “Maybe you should stay and rest a while.”
Shaking her head, Emma went out to the deck. He followed close, in case she faltered. She stopped at the rail and drew in several deep gulps of air. Then she wrinkled her nose. “What is that horrible smell?”
Lucian did not want to tell her about the dead bodies. “What smell?”
Her gaze darted about. “I don’t know…” Then she spun around, leaned over the rail, and heaved.
Lucian helped her back to the cabin. The smears beneath her eyes were almost as dark as the ugly finger bruises around her neck. He feared the ordeal had taken a great toll on Emma. Once they returned, he would have Amelia check her over.
“I would like a bath, if that is possible,” she said, her eyes closed.
“Yes, that can be arranged,” he said, walking to the door.
Lucian spoke to one of the crewmen then spied Sean pacing on deck, a worried frown on his face. He hurried to him. “What is it?”
“I saw Emma. Sick.” Sean shook his head. “Was something the boy said when we were taking her from the packet.”
“What did he say?”
Sean mopped a hand down his face. “That Emma has been sick. For days now.” He turned away and studied the ocean. “Emma is never ill. She doesn’t get seasick.”
Fear pooled in Lucian’s belly. “What are you thinking? She has been poisoned?”
Lifting sad eyes, Sean shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Lucian fisted his hands. Later, when Emma rested, he would go below deck and have a little talk with that bastard Sorrington. He would learn the truth. He cracked his knuckles. One way or another, he would learn what was wrong with his wife.
Chapter 33
Emma heard the knock and opened her eyes. They had docked several hours ago and she knew Lucian had sent for Amelia. She could not bear the worry and fear in her husband’s eyes as he watched her. If she were honest with herself, she was worried, too. Never was she sick. Nor so exhausted.
Amelia swept into the room, hefting her large black bag. “Well, now, we must quit meeting this way, Emma.”
Lucian hurried in. “Allow me to take your bag.”
Shaking her head, Amelia came to the bed and set the bag on the floor. “Thank you, no, Lucian.” She gave him a big smile. “Please wait outside while I make my examination.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but Amelia raised her hand. “I insist.”
Shoulders hunched, Lucian nodded. His eyes met Emma’s, then he turned and left the room, closing the door with a soft click.
Amelia sat on the side of the bed and pressed her cool, soft palm to Emma’s forehead. “Tell me your symptoms.”
“I am sick a lot and tired all the time.”
Amelia nodded and lifted Emma’s hand, examining her nails.
“Do you think I’ve been poisoned?” When she nagged enough, Sean had told her their concerns.
Leaning forward, Amelia placed a finger below Emma’s right eye and tugged, studying the skin inside the bottom lid. Then she examined the other. Pursing her lips, she checked Emma’s gums. With a sigh, Amelia shook her head. “I see no signs of poison.”
Emma relaxed. “Then what is wrong with me?”
Amelia lifted Emma’s chin, her fine brows pressed together as she studied Emma’s neck. “I will give you a paste for the bruising. Will help them fade quicker.” Rising from the bed, Amelia walked to the washbowl and scrubbed her hands. “I would like to examine your wound and another area.” She returned, drying her hands on a towel. “This will not hurt.”
Emma nodded and Amelia threw back the covers. She lifted the white nightgown borrowed from Evie and pressed on the pink scar across her lower belly. “Now, I must examine between your legs,” Amelia said.
Blowing out a sigh, Emma raised her legs, bending her knees, setting the bottom of her feet against the bed. Perhaps the wound had festered inside. On her travels, she had seen people get very sick from festered wounds. One man had to have his leg amputated, but it did save his life. Some had died. Emma frowned as Amelia performed her examination, wondering what could be amputated if her wound had festered.
Amelia’s breath caught and she removed her finger.
“What? Is it my wound? Is there an infection?” Emma lowered her legs and tugged the gown back down.
“No infection. Your wound is fine.” Amelia rose and washed her hands once again. When she came back to the bed, she wore a huge smile.
This made Emma even more nervous. “What is wrong with me?”
Blue eyes dancing, Amelia placed a hand on Emma’s arm. “When was your last menstrual cycle?”
Emma gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Then she lowered them. “But you said I could not conceive.”
Amelia shook her head. “I said it might be difficult, not impossible.” She patted her arm. “I could not be certain how much scar tissue would build, but lucky for you, very minimal.”
Emma thought back to her last monthly. “It’s been seven weeks, I think. Maybe eight.”
Amelia leaned down and opened her bag. She mixed several herbs and placed the mixture in paper, wrapping it tight with a string. “Sprinkle this in your tea each morning upon rising. It will help with the sickness.”
Emma’s mind reeled. She was with child? How was this possible? Her cheeks heated at the thought of exactly how it was possible.
“I would like to see you in a month. Before if you experience any issues.”
Emma took the package. “Thank you,” she said, still in shock. At least she hadn’t been poisoned. Lucian would be thrilled— Lucian! How would he react to the news? Be happy? Sad? Lock her away till the babe was born?
The last thought made her grimace.
Amelia lifted the bag and smiled. “You are welcome. I am so glad to bring you good news for once.”
As she turned to the door, Emma halted Amelia. “I would like to tell Lucian.”
“Of course.” Amelia gave her one last smile, then opened the door.
Lucian rushed inside, worry pressing his brows. “Well? What did she say?”
Emma hesitated. She did not want to be locked away for months and feared Lucian would do just that.
He came to her, noticing the package with the herbs. “What is that?”
“Something to settle my stomach,” Emma said.
Sitting on the bed, Lucian moved the stray curl from her cheek. Emma noticed how his hand shook. She reached up, lacing her fingers through his. “I have not bee
n poisoned. Nor am I going to die.”
Lucian closed his eyes. “Oh, thank God!”
Emma had to tell him. She had to. “Lucian, I am—”
“Emma!” Sean dashed inside the room, waving a piece of paper. “You are not going to believe this!”
From the febrile glee in Sean’s eyes, she knew. Another treasure waited to be found. Her heart picked up speed, and her middle tingled as her own excitement grew. “What is it?” she asked, the words falling out of their own accord.
Lucian glared at Sean. “Can you not see your sister is ill? Now is not the time to upset her.”
Sean’s smile grew. “This will not upset her in the least.” He waved the paper. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Emma sighed and lifted her free hand. “Let me see what you have, Sean.”
With a jaunty step, Sean moved to the bed and handed her the paper. Two, in fact. One, a letter from Mr. Planta, the other a sketching. As Emma read the letter, then examined the drawing, her pulse hitched. A small Aztec warrior figure made of pure gold! So, the Spanish did not find all the treasure in Tenochtitlan three hundred years ago. Montezuma must not have told Cortez all. Her lips curved up, and she lowered the papers.
Lucian’s gaze seared into hers. He said nothing, but he didn’t have to.
Emma had a decision to make. No, that was not true. The decision had already been made. The moment she learned she was with child. She had the babe growing in her belly to consider now. To place above any treasure in the world. As she would for Lucian, as well.
She handed Sean back the papers. “I cannot be involved.”
Her brother’s face fell, the opposite of Lucian’s glow of happiness. Sean folded the letter and drawing. “You know a lot about the Aztec’s, Em.”
“I know as much as you do.”
“I see. Well, then. I will check on Samir. He has recovered enough to travel to London. Then I’ll be on my way.” His sorrowful gaze lifted. “You sure, Em?”
Emma blinked back the sudden rush of tears. She hated disappointing her brother. “Please, come see me before you leave.”
He blew out a breath and nodded.
Lord Hunter (Secrets & Scandals Book 6) Page 29
