Linna : Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 5)

by Jackie Ivie

  Linna sighed and wiped a hand across her lashes. She wasn’t crying. Not again. People who didn’t cry at their own mother’s funeral simply didn’t cry. They were cold and heartless. She needed to get back to that state. She squared her shoulders, straightened her back, and stood up. She wasn’t going to lean dejectedly against the bulkhead while she waited for her husband to come for her. She had more fortitude than that.

  She just wished she could find it.

  She was hot, she was thirsty, she was tired, and she was heart-sore. So heart-sore that the entire area beneath her breast bone felt like one huge ache. Linna shook with the effort at holding the emotions back. She wasn’t going to be sobbing when he came for her. If he came for her. She wasn’t going to ask one person for assistance, either, not one. Especially if her only option continued to be Simons. Linna held her fingers to her eyes and waited for the streams of shivers to go away.

  “Madame, you are ready?”

  Her lack of luck was continual.

  It was Simons.

  Linna took a deep breath, wiped at her eyes, and turned to him. She wasn’t prepared, but that couldn’t be helped. “Ready for what?” she retorted in a tart fashion.

  “Your escort from the ship. Don’t look at me that way. I don’t want to do it either.”

  “You?”

  “Of course me. You see anyone else forced to come to your aid?”

  “Go away.” Linna turned her back on him and faced the other direction. She saw a few small, quaint houses, teetering to the brink of the shelf of land. Beyond that, open ocean. It was picturesque, and she concentrated on that.

  “I’m not fond of the chore, either, Madame.”

  “I do not ask for, nor do I require your assistance, Monsieur Simons. You may leave.”

  “Tell that to your husband.”

  “Have him fetched and I will.”

  “He’s working. He has better things to do with his morning than to see to the likes of you. Why do you think he entrusted you to my care?”

  Linna swiveled, pierced him with a cold look and wrinkled her nose as if detecting something unsavory. “Are you still here?” she asked.

  “You shouldn’t spend so much of your time with him fighting. There’s much better things to do with a man like that.”

  “If you’re speaking to me, you’re wasting your breath. We don’t fight.”

  “He got another mark, fresh on his neck, and you’ve got another bruise yourself. Right on the tip of your chin. I never thought him the type to hit a lady. You must not be one.”

  “If anyone gives a class on intelligence, would you be a sport and take it?” Linna asked sweetly and watched his lips thin further. She exulted in his narrowed eyes and the way his nostrils flared. She hadn’t had this much entertainment since last year, when she’d been presented and been the belle of every party, every fete, and every gathering. In that past life, civilization had reigned and verbal sparring was the weapon of choice. That had been back before everything had turned ugly.

  And stayed that way.

  “No answer? For shame.” She clicked her tongue and turned back to the far view. They really should put up some sort of support under the farthest house, she decided, squinting to look at it. It looked like the next wind might knock it from its perch and right into the sea.

  “Fight him all you wish, Madame Larket. It’s what chases him away.”

  Linna looked over her shoulder at him, like she hadn’t a care. “Chases him away?” she asked, in mock horror. “Good heavens, Monsieur, if I don’t get a moment from him, I’m going to collapse at the exhaustion. He’s a very virile man. I’m rather lucky he had other things to do this morning.”

  “Mon Dieu!”

  He tossed his hands up and stalked off. Linna released her breath. She was glad to see him go. Even if she had to walk the gangway, she wasn’t going to do it with Simons at her side. One did not request the enemy to witness their weaknesses. Linna turned back to the docks, shifting her skirt and pulling the blouse from her skin so her outfit would make the movement with her. It was hot and sweaty in the black wool, she was queasy with the heat and lack of nourishment, and things didn’t look any different than the last time she’d looked this direction.

  A coil of rope hit the deck beside her, making her jump. It was immediately followed by Cord, sliding to hang above the decking by a good three feet. And he just stayed there, swaying. Linna would have looked up to see what he was attached to, but she didn’t dare move her eyes from where his thighs were entwined with the rope. She only hoped he hadn’t heard any of the exchange.

  “That was stupid,” he commented, finally. “He had orders. I gave them to him.”

  “I don’t care,” she replied.

  “That much…is obvious. See yourself off the ship. There should be a carriage waiting. Belongs to Plantation Larroque. Adieu.”

  He put one hand above the other one and pushed with his legs. Linna told her eyes to look away, but they didn’t obey. She watched as he maneuvered back up the rope and onto a wooden cross beam. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until he was there. She also didn’t realize how dizzy it would make her to look up. She barely caught the fall as she stumbled back into the bulkhead.

  His laughter stiffened her spine. She may be terrified of heights, but another moment in any of their company was worse, she told herself. She set her jaw and moved toward the gangway. It looked just as high, just as narrow, and just as dangerous as it had when she’d first come aboard. Linna hung onto the post at the top and watched as the strip of intertwined rope and wood swayed, creaking slightly with each movement. Nobody was impeding her. Nobody was watching. Most of the other passengers had departed already. She’d watched them.

  Terror had a name now and a face. It was that little gangway bordered by rope and stretching into a strange kind of black fog toward the end. Stop it, Linna! She blinked, but the view didn’t change. The fog actually got closer. Linna shut her eyes.

  This was ridiculous. People walked across this every day. The workers had even stood on one like it, to work. She’d watched them from the safety of the bulkhead. It wasn’t but a brief walk along what was basically a wooden path. She knew. She’d timed it earlier as she watched others traverse it.

  If they could do it, she could do it.

  Linna opened her eyes and looked down again, taking in a smaller view. There were little wood pieces Cord had described, put there for a heel hold. Linna looked at them with trepidation. She ran her eyes across to where they seemed to disappear again. There appeared to be twenty of them, maybe more. She would have to slide to twenty of them.

  Twenty.

  Her mind heard the number and rejected it. Linna called herself a fool. She didn’t have to know how many! Twenty? She’d never make it. There might as well have been a hundred!

  “Buck up, Linna, they’re probably watching.”

  Her voice sounded strange as it wavered, but it was better than nothing. Twenty wasn’t so many. It was nothing. She’d just get to the first, then she’d only have nineteen left.

  Linna tried laughing at the absurdity of her own thought process, but her voice had dried up in her throat. It wouldn’t work anyway. She knew that much instinctively. She was terrified of heights, facing her own personal hell, and nobody was going to assist her.

  Why should they? Everyone who tries to help, you chase off.

  Linna moved a hand onto the stretch of rope that stood-in for a hand-rail. There was still an amazing amount of movement happening all about her, but she couldn’t see anything except the little cross-piece of wood. She slid both hands down the rope, burning her palms with how tightly she clenched it, and then she forced her right foot forward.

  Cotton-thick air cloyed in her lungs, the rope was slick with sweat, and her heart was beating so hard it felt like it was trying to lunge from her breast. Linna kept the cry inside as her toe caught and held the cross piece, twisting her foot sideways as the side o
f her boot came to rest against it. The rope in her hands moved. First down, then up, then down again. She clung to it the entire time. It felt like hemp was embedded in her palms, and her knees were wobbly, but she forced herself to remain upright. She wasn’t going to fail. She wasn’t going to give anyone the satisfaction.

  She moved her left foot tentatively, utilizing her new position to bring the other leg down. It didn’t work. She was losing her footing and everything was going dark with the fog. There were a torturous few seconds as she slid. Linna knew then what dying must feel like. Like the blackness. Like absolute agony. She didn’t even hear her heartbeat anymore. She couldn’t hear it above the sound of her own breath leaving her body. Her ears were full of it.

  She felt her foot missing the little cross piece. She hadn’t any breath left to cry out about it. Then the rope was biting into her stomach, curving her over it. She was going to fall headlong into the blackness and nobody would even care.

  “Maddening little twit.”

  It was Cord. He pulled her against him. Linna didn’t question how or why. She was beyond it. She loved him. Desperately. To the point she couldn’t fight it much longer. And when she’d needed him the most, he’d come. She didn’t care that he’d called her names. He was there! He was holding her...rescuing her, protecting her. She clung to him and tried to make her shuddering form disappear into his strength.

  ~ ~ ~

  Cord stopped the instant response he got from feeing her in his arms. She probably didn’t even know it was him. She had a haunted look in her eyes. He’d seen it before. Besides, he told himself, you don’t like her brand of loving. It’s full of hate and smacks of rejection. He’d been counseling himself all night. He hadn’t slept, he hadn’t talked to anyone. He hadn’t looked at anyone. He didn’t need one other soul on the face of the earth, and he sure as hell didn’t need her. He’d told himself that he wasn’t going to come to her aid, not even if she fell into the water.

  But then he’d watched her and the swiftness with which he’d swung down had several interested observers shaking their heads. They were still watching as she climbed onto him and stayed there. Cord held her close and waited for her shaking to calm and tried to tell himself it didn’t mean a thing.

  “Linna?” he whispered against her ear, detesting himself not only for the softness of his voice but the betrayal of his own body as he tightened his arms, hugging her closer to him.

  “You came,” she replied, lifting her face to settle it into his shoulder. “You came for me. I needed you…and you came.”

  Cord stiffened against the sensation of her breath on his face, the sight of sunlight on her features, and the feel of her weight in his arms.

  “You almost hurt my heir, Madame,” he said, in as gruff a tone as he could manage.

  “I’m sorry,” she replied, blinking rapidly, while a sheen of moisture coated her eyes.

  He hadn’t noticed that before. “Sorry?” he began, “Oh. I haven’t shown you sorry yet, lady.”

  “You—you’re not going to put me down, are you?”

  “It would serve you right if I did.”

  His heart wasn’t in the threat. It sounded it. Cord looked over her head at the other end of the gangway. They had an audience there, as well. It was his fault. He’d come swinging in from the air and plucked her to him like a hero from a stage-play. No wonder they were watching.

  “You’re causing quite a scene,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” she answered again.

  “You should be. You’re too noticeable and I hate notice. I probably remarked on it before. You should have listened.”

  Cord started walking down the gangway, holding the rope with one hand and her to him with the other. It wasn’t necessary. She felt glued in place, her legs and arms wrapped so tightly to him, he doubted he’d be able to unlatch her when they reached shore. That thought had its merits, he decided, rolling his hips against her as he walked.

  They guffawed behind him, and Cord huffed out the amusement.

  “You...aren’t going to put me down when we get to shore, are you?”

  “Why? You have a fear of streets now?” He had to pull his head back to ask it.

  “Uh...no.”

  She colored. Cord watched it and decided that even if he didn’t need her brand of rejection, she was still the loveliest thing he’d ever seen. The mouth that came with her was a shame though. He should have kept it busy with his kisses last night. He should have used the time to drive her insane, instead of losing his wits the moment she touched him.

  He couldn’t stop wanting her either. He was proving it again, and he’d had only the length of a walkway to experience it.

  “Every...one will know,” she whispered.

  “Know what?” he asked.

  “Your, uh...state.”

  Cord sucked in both cheeks and watched her redden further. “Would that bother you, sweet?” He swiveled his hips and watched her eyes widen.

  “Cord!”

  “What?” he asked, innocently.

  “You stop that immediately.”

  “You want me to put you down? Now?”

  They’d reached the end of the walkway, then the dock, and he’d taken a giant step to reach the board sidewalk so she wouldn’t suspect it. They had quite an audience, too. Cord felt the nerve twitching in his cheek as he ignored them. Most of those about had better things to do than watch an amorous-looking couple march down the street to the only whorehouse, anyway.

  He slammed a shoulder against the door and it flung open. Women of every shape, size, and state of undress went running. Out.

  Linna lifted her head. “Where...are we?” she asked.

  “Dominique!” Cord barked and waited for the thin beauty to descend the steps. She looked just as calm, composed, and cool as always. He grinned.

  “Monsieur Raoul, for shame. Importing yet another of your women to my establishment. I have too many already. Have you no conscience?”

  “This is my wife, Dominique.”

  “You? A wife? I don’t believe it.” The woman looked incredulous at the words. Cord lifted his eyebrows.

  “I know. It’s a surprise.”

  “A surprise? Non. It’s a tragedy. A...a calamity. My ladies will be overcome with the grief. How could you, mon cher?”

  “Excuse me, but I’d like to be set down now,” Linna said, a bit too loudly for her position beside his ear, he decided.

  “My wife needs a cool place to lie down, Dominique.”

  “But of course. I have apartments downstairs. Is she lying alone, or...?”

  She let her sentence drift to an endless state and his grin faded. “No time. I’ve a ship still to unload, baggage to claim, and a wagon ride to secure. See to her, s’il vous plait?”

  “For you? Anything. Follow me. Do you wish her made comfortable, too?”

  “That depends on what you mean by comfortable,” he replied.

  “Tish! A small favor for ones already rendered. She needs a change of clothing and a tepid bath wouldn’t go unappreciated either, if I’m not mistaken. Why on earth did you dress her in wool, Raoul? In this heat? You are a brute.”

  “Excuse me, but I have a voice,” Linna said.

  She was trying to move away from him as she said it, but he didn’t let her. The steps weren’t wide enough, they weren’t swaying like the gangway had, and he was holding her exactly where he wanted – against him.

  “My wife is a stubborn woman, Dominique.”

  “That I can tell for myself.”

  He followed her into a dimmer corridor, well beneath the streets. It was much cooler. He hoped Linna would appreciate it.

  “If you don’t stop ignoring me this instant—”

  “You’ll start acting like a wife and obey me, or you’ll not like the consequences. Understand?”

  “I will not be held hostage in a—a house of ill repute!”

  “You know what one is?”

  “Of course I do! I
wasn’t born this morning.”

  “This isn’t just a house of ill repute, love. This is the best one on four islands. Don’t go bashing the accommodations until you see them.”

  “As I’ve never been in a whorehouse, how will I make that determination?”

  Dominique turned her elegant back and smiled coolly at them. “You married a prude, mon ami? With all the choices about you? Goodness...why?”

  “Wait until you see her. You won’t have to question it. She’s not much to look at in this black, shapeless–”

  “I’m not taking off one article of clothing, Cord. Not one. You can just take that and fly with it. I’ll not have one thing to do with this! Or with your—your...well, a lady from your past.”

  Dominique’s back stiffened. Cord arched his shoulders in apology. “Well, she did call you a lady.”

  “Which is more than I should expect from one with ill manners. What am I to do with her again?”

  “Room and board. I’ll be back.”

  They entered a room that felt suspiciously like a cell. Cord looked about and shook off the fancy. The silk-lined walls, brass bed, and elegant gas globes had as much resemblance to his past as the ship’s cabin did to Plantation Larroque’s spaciousness.

  “I wouldn’t like anything untoward to happen, Dominique.”

  He turned, stifled Linna’s struggling with both arms, to look steadily at the blond.

  “Oh please, Monsieur Raoul. You know me better than that. Besides, I have too many women already. I have no need of more. Grant me that much.”

  “Stop it, Linna,” he hissed.

  “Don’t leave me here, please?”

  “Linna—” he began.

  “I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll sit on the wagon, and I’ll wait for you, and I won’t say a word. Not one.”

  “You’ll be safe here. Stop that!” She had tightened her legs about his hips, pushing against him. Cord lowered his mouth to hers and knew that’s what she’d been asking for.

  “Please?” Her whisper made it out before she captured his lips, and he let her. He forgot time, place, and the old whore watching them. He forgot everything except how wonderful his own wife felt in his arms. He groaned and lifted his head. Damn her!