After Hogan nodded to the council member acting as scribe, Richard crossed the room to Marina. “Gather your friends so we can leave.”
“But there are others,” she said softly.
“I know. We’ll return tomorrow and see what can be done.” Despite the crowd watching, he laid a hand upon her cheek. “I want you out of here.”
* * *
Marina was torn. There was nothing more she wanted than to leave with him, but there were so many others, and her life wasn’t hers to do as she pleased and hadn’t been for a long time. But his palm was so warm and gentle upon her cheek. The argument happening inside her caused a tear to fall from her eye.
He brushed it aside. “You’ll do more good on the outside than you will on the inside.” Glancing over her shoulder, he said, “If you don’t leave, they can’t.”
He was right. The idea of any of them returning to the dungeon was appalling, more so with him touching her.
“Please don’t deny my request, Marina. Not again.”
The burning of her throat prevented her from refusing, even if she’d wanted to. She shook her head, then nodded, not exactly sure which was correct.
His smile was soft and understanding. “Let’s gather your friends,” he whispered.
Pride filled her as she walked beside him to the wall. The other women immediately started thanking him and continued to do so as he withdrew the knife from his boot and started cutting away the ropes securing their hands behind their backs. The women rushed to hug her as soon as they were free.
“It’s a miracle, Marina,” Mrs. Pullman whispered. “Your captain is a miracle.”
Marina had never witnessed a miracle before but was in agreement that one was happening right now. They would all be headed for the gallows in the morning if not for Richard.
He squeezed her arm before he turned to the council. “Are those receipts ready?”
“Not quite, sir,” the scribe answered, dribbling sand over the paper on his desk with a shaky hand. “But almost.”
A short time later, Richard had the receipts in hand, and Marina said to the others, “Come. Stay close, and follow us.”
The women took a hold of each other’s hands, and when Richard clasped hers, Marina’s breath caught at the happiness that erupted inside her. She pinched her lips, but her smile was too strong to contain.
Richard grinned at her briefly before his expression turned stone hard as his gaze went to the council and then to the onlookers. The crowd parted peacefully, leaving a wide-open path to the door. Marina didn’t have to think about keeping her chin up. The pride of walking beside Richard filled her too completely.
The sunlight that met them on the steps may have been the brightest, the most spectacular that ever shone upon the earth. Oscar Pullman was the first to greet them when they parted from the crowd.
Stopping directly before them, although his gaze went past Richard to his wife, the man said, “I owe ye all I have, Captain. All I have.”
“No,” Richard said, letting go of her hand to pick through the receipts. Pulling one out, he said, “We are now even.”
“But Captain—” Oscar started.
“Say no more, my friend,” Richard said, patting Oscar’s shoulder. “Take your wife home. She’s tired.”
With tears streaming from his eyes, Oscar quickly skirted around them. The reunion of husband and wife added to the joy filling Marina.
More people gathered close, family members of the other women. Richard passed out receipts, saying no repayment was necessary. All of the reunions were heartfelt, and no one lingered. The women who’d had a hard time walking to the courthouse were now scurrying along beside their families, leaving Salem Towne as if it was on fire.
Richard wasted no time, either. Marina wasn’t sure how his horse had appeared before them, but he’d swung into the saddle and hoisted her onto his lap before she had a chance to blink, let alone protest. As if she would. Her dream had come true.
The horse started forward, past people moving away from the courthouse. Both her legs hung over one side, and having nothing else to hang on to, she wrapped her hands around Richard’s arm stretching around her to hold the reins.
Cheers greeted them as they passed people on the road. The Pullmans along with others. Her cheeks burned at such show, but understanding how they felt about Richard saving their family members, she waved.
Twisting, she asked, “Where’s Gracie? And Uncle William? And John. How is he? How are his eyes and—”
Richard laughed. “You have to stop asking if you want me to answer.”
She giggled. “Of course.”
“Gracie is fine. She has a nursemaid and—”
Her spine stiffened. “A nursemaid? Who? Are they trustworthy? Do they understand—”
“Mrs. Reynolds is a wonderful woman. I questioned her thoroughly and am very confident in her abilities. In fact, William is very taken with her. They are rather close in age.”
“She’s as old as Uncle William? She’ll never be able to keep up with—”
“Whoa, there,” he said. “Although William may have appeared to have one foot in the grave while living here, being on the ocean has brought back his youth. He practically skips across the deck.”
“The deck?” she questioned. “So they are on your ship?” Satisfied knowing that, she asked, “And John? Is he on your ship, too?”
“John is healing nicely. Mrs. Reynolds is seeing to his care, too. His eyes are as good as ever. However, his ankle was broken and will take longer to heal.”
“Broken. Oh, goodness. I feared he had broken bones.”
“I did, too,” he said. “Hold on.”
She was already holding on, but her hold on his arm tightened when the horse started trotting. The ride turned smooth a moment later as the animal entered an even and swift gallop. Her skirt started flapping around her ankles. The hem was wet and covered with grime and, to her shame, her hands were almost as filthy. She closed her eyes in an attempt to ignore the filth and focused her thoughts on Gracie, William and John. Her belief that Richard would see to their welfare had never left her, but knowing it had happened renewed her spirit so fully her chest puffed from the happiness.
A great satisfaction overtook her, and she leaned her head against Richard. He was so solid, so powerful, so utterly wonderful. All she’d ever dreamed of.
Marina didn’t sleep but did enter a peaceful place so wonderful she could easily have stayed there for a much longer time. The horse had stopped, so she opened her eyes. Uncle William’s house stood before her. She’d figured this was where they were going, but was surprised it looked exactly as it had when she’d walked away from him. Hickman hadn’t burned it to the ground as she’d assumed.
“Can you stand?”
“Of course,” she answered.
“Then down you go,” he said, grasping her waist and lifting her off his lap.
Her legs wobbled as her toes touched the ground. She noted it wasn’t from pain but the separation from Richard. An odd thing, yet nonetheless real.
He was off the horse a split second later. “Come, it’s inside with you.”
Marina took a deep breath. “Strange,” she said, “but this no longer feels like home.”
“Well, it is home for the night,” he said.
Exactly what he meant eluded her and she truly didn’t have the ability to think that hard. Not right now. They entered through the back door. She took a long look around before determining the house was exactly as she’d left it. Nothing was out of place. Richard had moved from her side, and the sight of him bent over the hearth, placing kindling to be lit, sent her heart tumbling.
Her throat locked up and a knot formed in her stomach. Not an ordinary knot, this one heated her stomach in a way that penetrated her soul. The loneliness that had ached until she hurt from head to toe had disappeared the moment he walked into the courtroom. Her hopelessness had disappeared then, too. Whatever rippled through her was
n’t shock. She’d done a fair share of thinking about him during their separation. Continuously. Every decision she’d made, he’d been a part of it. He’d been a part of every regret she’d had, too.
He turned, looking up at her with those dark eyes she’d seen in her dreams. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I’ll fetch water for you.”
His voice barely penetrated the beats of her heart resounding in her ears. “Water?”
He stood. “Yes. Plenty of it so you can bathe.”
Catching herself before her tongue stumbled over itself, she dropped her gaze to her hands, her dress. The once-white cuffs of her blouse were as black as her cape had been. She’d long ago lost her cloak, given it to a nameless woman who’d had nothing but two rags tied across her body.
“I know you’re tired,” he said, while adding logs to the fire. “But you’ll feel better clean. I’ll find something for you to eat, too.”
A bit of her resolve returned. “I am tired, but I’m not injured. You see to your horse. I’ll see to the fire and water and then prepare us something to eat.”
He bit his bottom lip as she’d seen him do before when holding back a comment or protest. It was a protest. She was fully aware of that. His gaze slipped off her face and wandered down her dress, all the way to her toes.
When his gaze met hers again, her insides fluttered. “I’ll take a bath first,” she said softly.
His eyes never left hers as he crossed the room. Stopping directly before her, he placed a single finger beneath her chin, making the skin tingle.
“You are a strong and beautiful woman, Marina Lindqvist. One any man would be proud to stand beside. Clean or dirty.”
Heat flushed her cheeks.
Chuckling, he said, “I’ll carry in the washtub.”
Marina spun about but said nothing as he walked out the door. It would take more than a basin of water to wash away the grime of the dungeon, which meant she would need the washtub.
It wasn’t long before she was standing in the washtub, soaking feet that hadn’t been dry for the past week. Built beside the river, the dungeon had flooded this spring, and the water still hadn’t all seeped away. She’d set her wet shoes near the fire and had carried down the soft slippers Nessa had made for her, along with her other bathing necessities and clean clothes.
The tub wasn’t very large, but after scrubbing her feet until they tingled, she managed to sit down. With her legs hanging over the edges, she scrubbed the rest of her body. The stench of the dungeon renewed itself when she dumped water over her hair. She scrubbed and scrubbed until all she could smell was soap and then used fresh water to rinse from head to toe.
Richard had said he’d stay outside until she was finished, but now that water wasn’t sloshing, she could hear voices. She stepped out of the tub and quickly dried off. In her haste to get dressed, she fumbled with each garment. The voices weren’t harsh or argumentative, but it had to be the council. Who else could it be?
Her scrubbing had left her hair a tangled mass. Lack of time had her twisting it and tucking it inside the white cap she tugged on. Leaving it untied, and forgoing stockings and the soft slippers, she rushed across the room.
She pulled open the door and paused in the threshold. Richard was the only one in the yard.
“Do you feel better?” he asked.
Turning her gaze from the empty road and letting it linger on him for a moment, Marina wasn’t sure if she felt more relief or confusion. “Who were you talking to?”
“Which time?” He picked a basket off the ground and another off the edge of the well. “Every family of the women released with you has come and gone.”
She stepped back into the kitchen in order for him to enter. “Why?”
Tilting one of the baskets, he said, “With food and cider. They must have cleaned their coffers in order to thank you. I’ll carry out the tub and get the rest.”
In her haste, the kitchen had been left a mess, and she scurried to gather her discarded clothing, which she promptly carried outside, right behind Richard carting out the tub full of water as if it weighed no more than it did when empty.
She tidied the area while he carried in more baskets. Marina fought her eyes, forcing them to remain on what she was doing. Each time she looked at Richard, a powerful tug happened inside her. It made her heart beat faster, and spirals of heat filled her belly. All her dreams about him were twisting in her head, making it hard to remember what was real and what had been illusions. What could be and what couldn’t be.
“Your hair is getting your hat wet.”
Marina pulled the cap from her head and used her fingers to untangle the mass as much as possible before picking up the brush she’d brought downstairs earlier. She pulled her hair over one shoulder and started to brush the ends. “I thought the council—”
The weight of his hands on her shoulders was light but made her breath catch and legs tremble.
He turned her around. “They won’t come after you again. Ever. I promise.”
Her fingers trembled, forcing her to stop brushing her hair. “What if—”
“Ever.”
There was such fortitude in his voice the brush slipped from her fingers. He caught it before it fell. Marina understood the risk of meeting his gaze, but had no choice with the way he used a knuckle to lift her chin.
“I can’t promise it’s over for those still in prison, but you have nothing to fear. That I swear.”
Marina closed her eyes. His voice, his gaze, his closeness—it was all too much to fight. It wasn’t over. Couldn’t be. What would that mean for her?
“Here,” he said quietly. “Turn around. I’ll brush your hair.”
She twisted about and tried, but air wouldn’t fill her lungs. No one had brushed her hair for a very long time, and she quickly discovered the dangers of Richard doing so. A warm and powerful wave spread through her insides, making her more aware of specific parts of her body than she’d ever been.
“Amazing what a little water can do, isn’t it?” he asked while drawing the brush down her hair. “I sorely needed a good scraping and scrubbing when I was released.”
A tingle zipped up her neck. “Released from where?”
“Boston jail. That’s why I wasn’t here sooner.”
Instantly concerned, she spun around. “Boston jail? Why?”
He grinned and laid the brush on the table before saying, “Nothing they had proof of. It took a couple of days to get it squared away.” He took her hand. “Don’t worry. Grace, William and John all were well cared for by a friend of mine.”
A hint of guilt flashed in her stomach for not having thought of the others.
“Your neighbors have provided quite a feast,” he said, gesturing toward the baskets on the table. “I’m hungry. I haven’t had a decent meal since I left here.”
A jolt shot through her. She’d never questioned why he hadn’t arrived earlier, because she hadn’t expected him to. Yet he had vowed to that night, and she should have known he would. He always did what he said he would.
She slipped her hand out of his and walked to the shelf containing plates and tankards. “How long were you in jail?”
“I got out yesterday and met with the governor last evening, but had to wait until this morning for his official note to the council.”
Separated from him, even just a few feet, allowed her to think more clearly. She wanted to tell him he shouldn’t have come back, but if not for him, she and the others would be heading to the gallows in the morning. That had been her destiny, and she’d been prepared for it. What would happen now? She may have been released, but the desires inside confirmed she was still a witch.
* * *
Richard pulled out a chair and directed her to sit as soon as she set the plates, spoons and tankards on the table. The cravings he was fighting were becoming insurmountable. Brushing Marina’s long locks had heightened things to painful peaks. He told himself she was exhausted and needed to eat a
nd sleep, but it did little to quell what he wanted.
The generosity of her neighbors was a blessing, for cooking eluded him and she sincerely needed to eat. Her beauty had been restored by her bath, but she still needed nourishment. He’d felt her trembling while brushing her hair and had fought the desire to hold her close. Just to offer her his strength, if nothing more.
Richard piled her plate with items from the basket. He barely took note of the food, until the smell of roasted meat filled his nose and made his stomach growl. “This is from Oscar. His daughter had prepared it for them to eat upon returning from the trial.” He was speaking just to keep his mind off other things. Looking at her defied the abilities he’d once prided himself on. All the things he’d believed about himself no longer lay true.
The sleeping giant that had once occupied his inner being had disappeared but had left something far more powerful in its place. Richard would never have known what that giant had been covering up if not for Marina.
“Anna would have known her father would need sustenance when he returned today,” Marina said. “If not for you, Mrs. Pullman would be scheduled to hang tomorrow morning.”
Richard took a drink of ale to swallow the food in his mouth before replying, “If not for you, she may have died in the dungeon before today. His wife told Oscar about how you forced the guards to bring straw for them to get off the wet floor, water for them to drink, and how you lifted their spirits enough to believe a miracle could happen.”
She shook her head. “I requested straw and water, but never promised a miracle.”
“You didn’t need to promise one. You were it.” When she shook her head again, he simply said, “Eat.”
She did, but only a small amount compared to what he devoured. Laying her spoon beside her plate, she asked, “What happens now?”
What he wanted to happen couldn’t. Richard emptied his tankard and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not sure,” he said honestly. “But I believe Governor Phillips will put an end to the accusations, the trials. He’s arriving tomorrow. We’ll know more then.”
Saving Marina Page 22
