Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Novels from Top Fantasy and Science Fiction Authors

by Gwynn White

  “Yes.” She reached up, but Eli shouldered Grayson aside and took her hand instead. He pulled her to her feet, the movement making her wounded shoulder and throbbing head pound in unison. Unable to find her equilibrium, she stumbled forward, and Eli caught her against him.

  “Are you sure about that?” Grayson asked her, a smile in his voice.

  Beyond them, she saw Darby turn and eye the knife. She feared he might pull it out and hurl it back at Grayson, but he walked past it, hurrying toward the canal bank.

  “You’re bleeding, Miss Briar,” Eli said.

  “The knife nicked my shoulder.”

  “Nicks don’t bleed that much. We need to get you to the boat.” Without warning, he picked her up and her head spun with the sudden movement.

  “Eli, I can walk.”

  “I wouldn’t take that bet,” Grayson said, his tone too cheerful.

  “Eli, please,” she whispered.

  He swung her to her feet, and this time, the world flipped upside down.

  Hands caught her before she hit the ground, and once again, she was lifted off her feet. The dizziness hit so hard, she feared she might be sick. Squeezing her eyes closed, she prayed she wouldn’t vomit in front of the entire inn.

  “I commend your respect for her wishes,” Grayson said, his voice too close, “but sometimes, you have to do what is best for her, my friend.”

  With horror, Briar realized that Grayson held her.

  “You’re not my friend,” Eli growled.

  “You can put me down, Mr. Grayson,” she tried to cut in.

  “Sorry, Captain.” He turned and started walking. “I’m not yet yours to command.”

  She puzzled over the yet. Was he thinking of joining her crew? They would certainly welcome his cooking talents, but she couldn’t imagine a man like him serving as cook on a canal boat.

  She started to ask him about it, but he was setting her down. Good. She didn’t want to be carried away from the tavern like some delicate flower. She walked away from her fights.

  “Easy.” Grayson gripped her uninjured shoulder. “Can you sit up or should I lay you down?”

  “I’m fine,” she ground out, annoyed with his over protectiveness. “I’m not some damsel in distress that needs rescuing.”

  “We all need to be rescued at some point, Miss Rose. If one of your crew were injured and you were able, would you not carry him to safety?”

  “Yes, but I’m fine. I can walk to the boat.”

  “You’re on the boat.” He was definitely smiling.

  She blinked, trying to force her eyes and mind to work together. A hazy image of the deck of her boat swam into focus, the crew gathered around where she sat on a barrel.

  “Mr. Grayson is right,” Jimmy spoke up. “There’s no shame in letting your friends help you. Goodness knows, Eli has slung me over his shoulder more than once and hauled me home from a tussle.”

  She groaned and bowed her head, giving up on the argument. They didn’t understand.

  A tug on the shoulder of her waistcoat almost upset her uncertain balance—and reawakened the pain.

  “Sorry,” Grayson muttered.

  “What are you doing?” Eli demanded.

  Grayson leaned in to examine the wound. “This is going to need stitches.”

  “You ain’t doing it,” Eli said.

  Grayson sighed. “Is there anyone else onboard with the necessary training?”

  “I’m sure there’s a woman on one of the boats who—” Eli began.

  “Like bloody hell,” Grayson cut him off. “I’m not going to stand by while some woman and her dirty needles tests her sewing skills on Miss Rose.”

  “You ain’t doing it,” Eli repeated.

  “Are you suggesting that I plan to take advantage of an injured woman?” The coldness was back in Grayson’s voice. “I’d call you out right now, friend, but I happen to consider her welfare more important.”

  “Would you two quit?” she complained. “If it needs stitches, I’ll do it myself.”

  “It’s your right shoulder. You’re right-handed,” Grayson pointed out. “Don’t—”

  A loud crack of thunder cut off what else he might say. A large raindrop hit her cheek and another splashed against her forehead.

  “Someone help me get her down to her cabin and out of this rain,” Grayson said.

  “And that’s really not appropriate,” Eli said.

  “Then join me,” Grayson growled the words. “You can punch me if my stitching seems inappropriate.”

  “I’ll do it,” Jimmy spoke up. “You’d take up too much room, big guy.” He thumped Eli’s shoulder.

  Briar knew what Jimmy was doing and gratitude warmed her heart. Eli didn’t do well around blood. Even a minor injury would turn him green. Eli claimed he’d always been that way, and they had just accepted that aspect of his personality. Everyone had a weakness. Blood was Eli’s.

  “Come along, Captain.” Grayson started to pull her good arm across his shoulders.

  “I can walk.” She pushed him away, then slid to her feet. She had to grip the barrel to stay on her feet.

  “Take my arm, Captain?” Grayson offered his arm. “Your big man is going to pummel me if any harm befalls you. I assume that includes taking a tumble down the hatch.”

  “Ha ha.” She tried to make fun of it, but gripped his arm as he asked her to. She was still so light headed, but didn’t know if it was from the whiskey or the punch in the face. Probably both.

  “You want to climb down first in case she misses a step?” Grayson asked Jimmy.

  “You’re all a bunch of overprotective ninnies,” she told them.

  “What exactly is a ninnie?” Grayson asked.

  “A type of goat?” Jimmy offered.

  “I think that’s a nanny,” Grayson said. “But perhaps it’s a dialect thing.”

  “How long have you lived in this country?” Jimmy asked as the pair helped her down the ladder.

  “About three years, but I spent most of that time on the east coast.”

  Briar managed not to fall down the ladder and let them guide her to the cook’s bunk. It was roomier than the narrow space that served as her room. Besides, she preferred to keep her space private.

  “Are you still with me?” Grayson asked, squatting beside the bunk.

  Had he asked something and she hadn’t replied? “Yes.”

  “I’m going to need you to remove the waistcoat and pull your shirt off your shoulder.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that.

  “Or you could go put on that green gown you were wearing when we first met. As I recall, it left your shoulders bare.”

  “I’d rather not,” she said.

  “I’ll turn my back, Captain,” Jimmy said, doing just that.

  “As will I.” Grayson held her gaze for one long moment, then rose to his feet and gave her his back. “But if you fall over, please try not to hit your head on the wall.”

  “I’m not going to fall over,” she complained. She started undoing the buttons on her waistcoat, suddenly self-conscious—which was silly. As Grayson had pointed out, she had worn dresses that were more revealing. Except she wore a corset under her dresses. In her boatman’s attire, the fitted waistcoat served that purpose.

  Gritting her teeth, she managed to work the waistcoat off her shoulders and down her arms. The right shoulder of the garment was bloodstained and split where the knife had penetrated the fabric. She’d have to wash and mend it later.

  Undoing the top three buttons of her shirt, she was able to slip it off her shoulder, revealing the oozing wound just below her collarbone.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  Grayson turned to face her, and after the briefest of glances, moved the pillow to the opposite end of the bed and encouraged her to lie down. “With the injury closer to me, you’ll get prettier stitches,” he said.

  “I was so concerned.” She didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm.

 
; “I wouldn’t want to deter you from wearing another off-the-shoulder gown.”

  “Mr. Grayson?” Jimmy cut in, a hint of a reprimand in his tone.

  “Just a little harmless banter to put her at ease,” Grayson answered. He picked up the folded blanket from the foot of the bed and pulled it over her.

  She lifted a brow. “Do you fear I’ll take a chill?” The rain hadn’t been that soaking.

  “It’s not for you.” He gave her a wink.

  Her cheeks heated, but he got to his feet before she was required to comment. Walking over to Jimmy, he began to discuss what he needed to play doctor.

  She pulled the blanket a little higher. Oddly, the comment warmed her rather than pissed her off. The blow to the head must have messed her up more than she realized.

  Grayson returned a few minutes later, carrying a bowl of water and a wet cloth. He sat down on the side of the bed and began dabbing the wound.

  She gritted her teeth until he stopped. “How bad is it?”

  “It’s not as deep as I feared, but stitching it will help it heal cleaner.”

  She grunted, not looking forward to that.

  “This man Darby. He’s the one who damaged your boat?”

  “Yes. We’ve never gotten along, but when he flat refused to yield the right of way on our arrival in Portsmouth, it came to blows.”

  “Ah.” He rinsed the rag, then began wiping away the blood around the wound—which wasn’t as painful. “Is that when you first fought his daughter?”

  “No, that was years ago. She thought I was trying to court some man she wanted.”

  A smile curled Grayson’s lips, though he didn’t look up from what he was doing. “Were you?”

  “No.” Briar frowned. “I have no patience for that foolishness.”

  “Fighting over a man or just courting in general?”

  “I already have my cousin trying to rule my life. I don’t need another man helping him.”

  Grayson looked up. “Do you mean to say that you’ve never been courted?”

  “Men have tried. I don’t entertain them.”

  “Many a man has tried,” Jimmy joined the conversation, carrying over a pair of towels. “But no man can tame our Briar Rose.” He gave her a smile.

  “Maybe I don’t want to be tamed, Jimmy O’Shea.”

  “It’s not so bad.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Ignore him,” she told Grayson. “He’s newly married.”

  “Congratulations,” Grayson told him. “Your wife doesn’t travel with you?”

  “We set up housekeeping in Portsmouth, and since we only run the Scioto River Valley—the stretch from Columbus to Portsmouth,” he added for Grayson’s benefit, “I usually get in every week, and most of the winter.”

  “What an interesting life all of you lead,” Grayson said.

  “None better,” Briar agreed.

  The teapot whistled and Jimmy returned to the stove.

  “You seem to move around a lot,” she said to Grayson.

  “Not by choice.” He picked up his bowl and rag. “You have the right of it, Miss Rose. Don’t let any man—or woman—take away your freedom. It’s a precious thing.”

  “You sound like you envy us.”

  “I do.”

  “You envy this barbaric means of travel where you can’t expect an educated conversation?”

  He smiled and she had no doubt that he realized that she’d overheard his conversation with the Englishwoman. “This mode of travel has grown on me, and I happen to enjoy our conversations.”

  She frowned.

  “I was playing a role,” he said.

  “You seemed pleased when you told Jimmy you got her address.”

  He lifted his brows.

  “Another role to play,” she concluded.

  He dipped his chin. “I told you: it’s my ability to adapt that’s kept me alive.”

  “Then how do I know you’re not playing a role now?”

  “You don’t.” He gave her a smile that was almost sad. “There are only two other people in this world who know more about me than you do.”

  “I know nothing about you.”

  “So I’ve led you to believe.” He gave her a wink, then walked over to join Jimmy at the stove.

  Briar frowned at his back, not sure what to make of that conversation. He was a man who envied her freedom, yet moved around the world at will. And if she was one of the few who really knew him—well, that was just sad.

  The stitching process was a miserable, grueling procedure that left her jaws aching from clenching her teeth. Grayson had been as gentle as he could, but no degree of gentleness could alleviate the pain of having a needle poked through torn flesh.

  Once he finished, her relief was so great that she instantly fell into a dreamless slumber.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t wake feeling all that rested. Her head thumped with a morning-after headache. It didn’t help that her shoulder and chin were sore from her fight with Hester Darby.

  Briar blinked her eyes, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling until she remembered that she’d fallen asleep in the cook’s bunk.

  Speaking of sleeping…loud snores echoed through the cabin. She hadn’t heard such noise since she shared the cabin with her uncle and cousin.

  “No, you can’t move like that,” Grayson’s accented voice was soft, but the answering whirr of gears wasn’t.

  Briar turned her head and saw Grayson sitting at her table. Before him was her uncle’s chess set.

  “Knight takes bishop,” Grayson said.

  Another indignant metallic squawk drew her attention to Lock, who to her amazement, sat on the table across the board from Grayson.

  “It does too move like that. Pay attention. The knight moves two spaces forward, then one to the right or left. The bishop moves diagonally.”

  An angry whirr came from the little dragon, his tail whipping in agitation.

  “You knock the pieces off the board again, and I’m making you into a fruit press.”

  Lock snapped his jaws.

  “Try me.”

  “Are you teaching him to play chess?” Briar asked.

  Grayson spun to face her, the motion so fast that she knew he hadn’t known she was awake.

  Abruptly, he smiled. “You have already corrupted it, so I thought I could put it to good use. I was wrong.”

  Lock snapped his jaws again.

  Briar smiled at the little dragon’s spunk, then sat up. She couldn’t quite subvert the groan.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  She rubbed her temple. “I’m swearing off alcohol.”

  He chuckled and got to his feet. Stepping over where Jimmy still snored on a blanket on the floor, he walked to the stove and poured a cup of steaming liquid from the teapot. She didn’t smell coffee.

  “What’s that?” she asked when he brought her the cup. She held it to her nose and inhaled the pungent scent.

  “Willow bark tea,” Grayson answered.

  She brought the cup to her lips and took a tentative sip.

  “I added some honey and—”

  “Ugh.” She pulled the cup from her mouth. “Does the nasty taste scare away the headache?”

  “Drink it down. Don’t be such a baby.”

  She made a face at him, but did as he instructed, holding her breath to avoid the taste. It still lingered when she finished, and she coughed.

  “Disgusting,” she breathed.

  “A necessary evil.” He took the cup back and set it on the table.

  Lock moved closer to poke at it just as Jimmy rolled over, releasing another loud snore. Lock morphed into the pocket watch.

  “I see why Jimmy’s wife doesn’t join him on the boat,” Grayson said. “It’s her only chance to get a good night’s sleep.”

  “Is that what kept you awake?”

  “No.” He didn’t elaborate, sitting down on the side of her bunk. “May I see?”

  She glanced down and realized that he
r shirt was no longer off her shoulder, but the top buttons were still undone to the center of her breastbone. Fortunately, it hadn’t gapped open too much.

  “All right.” She tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks. She was curious about the injury herself. She hadn’t gotten a chance to examine it after he finished.

  Working the shirt back off her shoulder, she glanced down at the neatly stitched wound. It was close to four inches long, starting just beneath her collarbone and stretching across the front of her shoulder.

  “Not bad,” he said. “I prepared a poultice. Let me warm it.” He returned to the stove, stepping over Jimmy’s sleeping form again.

  The tea warmed her belly, and she swore her aches and pains had lessened. She leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes, listening to the oddly soothing sounds of Grayson working at the stove.

  Her bunk shifted, and she realized he had sat back down beside her.

  “That was quick,” she said, noting how the words were slightly slurred.

  “I think you dozed off.”

  She blinked her eyes to look up at him, but he was studying the wound. “What else was in that tea?”

  “Honey and rum.”

  “Great. Rum knocks me on my ass.”

  He smiled, but didn’t look up from what he was doing.

  She pulled in a breath as he smeared a warm dollop of his poultice on her wound.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “S’all right.”

  Another smile curled his lips, drawing her eyes to his mouth. He had a nice mouth—which was an odd thing to notice. She didn’t recall ever noticing such a thing on a man.

  “I think I’m drunk,” she told him. “So much for swearing off alcohol.”

  “Sorry about that, too.” He kept his eyes on his work, his long dark lashes brushing his cheeks when he looked down.

  “You’ll thank me in the morning,” he said.

  She realized that she believed him. “Why do I trust you?”

  He looked up, his slate-blue eyes more gray than blue in the low light.

  “I don’t know you,” she insisted. “And you don’t know me, yet you’ve put yourself in harm’s way twice to save me—or at least, my physical form.” She wasn’t so certain that her life had actually been in danger.