Enthralled

by Lora Leigh

  Which would have been better than what they’d done. But he couldn’t go back and change it now. He couldn’t change any of it. The long years he’d been gone. Her parents dying and Georgie being alone. The messages he’d never sent and the nothing he’d brought home. Everything that had led to her agreeing to a separation. None of it had changed. And when they returned home, she’d have no real reason to change her mind about the separation.

  His throat an aching knot, Thom nodded—though he couldn’t even remember what he was responding to.

  “But that was then.” Georgie’s gaze returned to the brass guards, and she gave a heavy sigh. “Now I’m just glad that I can help you.”

  Gruffly, he said, “I’m glad of it, too.”

  Standing again, he helped her position the guards that would protect his back and chest. Against a full-sized shark, his entire body wouldn’t even be a mouthful. But the brass plates might prevent a bite from any smaller predators in the sea—or stop Thom from gouging himself on splintered wood and twisted iron when he found Oriana. Anything to keep blood out of the water.

  When Georgiana picked up the brass bracers for his arms, Thom shook his head. With a faint smile, she bent to buckle a pair of long guards around his thighs.

  Standing at the rail, Southampton watched with interest—and a growing frown. “You’ll be able to swim back up carrying all that weight and the gold?”

  Thom could, if necessary. But it wasn’t. “I won’t swim. I’ll haul myself up along the tether. Did your men mark off the distance along the cable?”

  “A flag every twenty feet, just as you asked. Why is it necessary?”

  “So that Thom knows how quickly he’s ascending,” Georgie said, fastening more brass around his lower leg. “If he comes up slowly, the divers’ disease might not affect him as badly.”

  “Yes, but why?”

  Thom shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know it’s true.”

  “Fair enough.” Southampton glanced as a bundled-up mercenary joined them at the gangway. “You’ve both met Mr. Blade, my chief crewman. He’ll be watching over Mrs. Thomas on the platform.”

  The prick who’d prodded Thom’s back with his pistol—and apparently the leader of this mercenary band. At his feet, he saw Georgie’s mouth tighten and her tug on the strap between his shin and calf guards was a little sharper than the one before. She hadn’t liked Blade any better than Thom had. None of the mercenaries had been friendly, and he wouldn’t expect them to be. They were doing their job. But none of the others had gone out of their way to poke at him, either.

  “That all right with you, Georgie?”

  She huffed out a breath. “Does it matter?”

  “Not really, no,” Southampton said easily. “Mr. Blade will have the same instructions that I would give to any of my crew, which is to eliminate all obstacles that might prevent us from recovering my gold and to ensure that nothing unexpected returns from your ship with you.”

  Blade opened his coat, exposing the pistol at his waist. There could be no mistaking Southampton’s meaning. If Thom brought up weapons from Oriana, Blade was under orders to kill them both.

  But Thom didn’t intend to bring anything up. Not yet. And he already had his weapons with him.

  Finished with the brass guards, Georgie rose. Anger brightened her eyes and flattened her mouth, but she only walked onto the platform. His body weighed down by brass, every step that Thom took after her felt like wading through a current.

  Blade joined them, standing in the one corner of the platform not taken up by equipment. Thom hooked the airship’s tether to his belt, then pulled to make certain the cable unspooled easily. He glanced at Southampton and nodded.

  With a clank and rattle, they began to descend to the water. But there was still more to do before he went in. Holding the brass helmet under his arm, Thom connected the air hose to the back of the dome. The pump sat near the front edge of the platform. Kneeling beside it, Georgie cranked the handle, testing the flow, then glanced up at him.

  She spoke over the loud rattling of chains. “This fast?”

  “You can go a little slower. And when you get tired, just switch over with Blade.” When she began shaking her head, Thom said, “A missed second or two won’t kill me, Georgie. Just speed it up a bit after the switch, so the flow in and out is equal again.”

  “I’ll do it myself for as long as it takes.” Her tone said there’d be no arguing it, and Thom wasn’t a fool. But the frown pulling her brows together told him that he hadn’t quite escaped. “The past two years, you didn’t have a crew on Oriana. How did you do it alone?”

  “The first time we met, Ivy gave me a pump she’d made, powered by three small automatons. I just had to wind them up, and they’d crank for two hours.”

  Her frown darkened. “With no backup?”

  “No.”

  “Thom.”

  Sweet blue, there was nothing like an admonishment from Georgie. He loved it every time, the way she only had to say his name and her voice would be full of shock or outrage or exasperation or anger, but also told him so much more: that she liked his teasing. That he made her laugh. That she cared enough to yell at him.

  But he didn’t want to worry her. “I’m not alone now, Georgie.”

  Not alone at all. And he couldn’t change anything of the past, but that was something different from before—neither one of them was alone now. When they returned home, maybe she’d still want to separate. But for now, they were in this together.

  “You’re absolutely not alone,” she said, then reached up and pulled his mouth to hers.

  And even if there’d been no threat, no gold, nothing else between them, this would have been reason enough to return, simply to feel her lips pressing sweetly against his again—to feel Georgiana kissing him as if she believed he was the man he’d wanted to be.

  The platform jolted to a halt, stopping two feet above the rolling water. Reluctantly, Thom lifted his head.

  “Be careful,” she whispered. “And please come back to me.”

  “I will.”

  He lifted the dome over his head, muffling the squawks of the seagulls. Each of his breaths was loud in his ears and fogged his view of Georgie’s face. Then she disappeared, and he felt her fingers at his back, tightening the thumbnuts that fastened the helmet to the suit. She went over each one twice, then moved around front again, her expression focused as she concentrated on each bolt. Finally, she seemed satisfied and looked up at him through the fogged glass plate, her eyes glistening.

  With a gloved hand, Thom cupped her face. His thumb swept across her cheek.

  No tears.

  Setting her jaw, Georgiana nodded. She moved to the pump and knelt beside it. A few seconds later, cool air flowed into the helmet, filling his ears with a loud, persistent hiss. The glass began to clear. Turning in the stiff suit, he found the short rope ladder dangling off the edge of the platform and into the water.

  And with a few steps, lowered himself into the cold, swirling dark.

  * * *

  Georgiana barely breathed as water closed over the top of the brass dome. Beneath the surface, Thom stopped, hanging on to the bottom rung of the rope ladder. Bubbles from the exhaust valve trickled up through the rolling water. After a full minute, he lifted his hand, letting her know that he was getting enough air.

  With her free hand, she gestured for him to go. The longer Thom was down, the more dangerous the dive would be. He released the ladder.

  A few seconds later he was gone, with only bubbles to mark where he’d been. Beside her, the air hose slowly uncoiled, slipping easily over the edge. The tether cable angled down from overhead, and she measured Thom’s descent with the flags as they went under the surface. Twenty feet. Forty. Sixty. Eighty.

  Only a little farther—though if Thom had to walk any distance along the bottom, he would need more line.

  Another flag. Then another and another. All of them were going under at the same rate as the o
nes before. That couldn’t be right. Unless Thom was sprinting along the bottom somehow, he wouldn’t be moving so quickly. The terrifying thought that he’d been snagged by a shark that was speeding away like a fish caught on a line sent her blood draining from her head and spots swimming in front of her eyes, until she forced herself to breathe deep and think sensibly. The tether wasn’t being dragged in one direction or another. Judging by the angle of the cable, it still looked as if he were going straight down.

  She glanced back at Mr. Blade, and found the mercenary standing closer to her than she’d realized. He must have come nearer to the edge to watch the descent—or to make certain that she didn’t pull any sort of trick.

  Though Georgiana didn’t even want to look at him, let alone speak with him, she had to know. “How deep is he going, Mr. Blade?”

  “I don’t know, missus. How deep do you let him get?”

  Disbelief dropped her mouth open. Had he meant . . . ? But he did. Because he was leering again. Of course he was. Her husband was gone. The coward could feel brave now.

  Disgusting man. Coldly, she said, “Did you measure the distance to the seafloor, sir?”

  Her anger seemed to please him. A smile slid across his mouth like oil. “We did. It’s sixty-five fathoms.”

  Almost four hundred feet. Overwhelmed by sudden panic, Georgiana turned away to stare into the water, cranking the pump. But there was nothing to do. Hauling Thom back up on the tether might kill him—if Blade or Southampton didn’t do it first. No doubt they’d kill her. Georgiana’s reluctance and fear would be an obstacle to eliminate.

  Another flag disappeared into the deep. How many was that now? She’d lost count while talking to the horrible bastard behind her. However many, it was too many.

  Four hundred feet. Oh, dear God.

  Thom had lied to her. He’d known the depth. He’d known the danger. He must have feared what might happen, maybe even expected it, telling her what to do if he had to unhook his tether and air hose. Yet he’d gone anyway, to save her life.

  And she wouldn’t lose him to panic.

  Yet it still held her in its grip as she cranked and cranked and cranked, her panic easing only a little when the flags stopped moving so steadily and a hundred feet or so of hose remained in the coil beside her.

  Slowly, more hose paid out. Oh, that was Thom. Moving somewhere on the seafloor.

  The danger wasn’t over yet. Coming up would take longer. Anything could happen between now and then. But he was down there and moving around. Hope began to replace her fear.

  Her arm began to tire and her knees began to ache but she didn’t slow. She stared at the water, watching the hose, the cable, anything that offered some indication of how Thom was doing. Dimly, she was aware that Blade had moved closer—and that another noise had joined the gentle roll of the waves, the creaking of the airship, and the gulping rhythm of the pump.

  She glanced over. Shock almost made her hand slip from the crank. Directly behind her shoulder, Blade had opened his coat—was rubbing himself through his trousers.

  Revulsion and anger slapped furious heat into her cheeks. “Back away from me, sir! This moment!”

  “I don’t think so.” His oily smile returned, but as slick as that was, his eyes were hard and mean. He held his pistol at his thigh. “You’re doing a fine job there. But you’ve got a free hand, so you’re going to give me a good pumping, too.”

  Rage stole every single word. Incensed, Georgiana craned her neck back and looked to the airship. No one stood at the rail. Even if they had, Blade’s open coat would have blocked his disgusting actions from their sight.

  “His majesty will have gone below. He doesn’t like the cold. And even if my crew hears you, they won’t help.”

  Georgiana didn’t doubt that. But Blade could threaten all he liked. This cowardly bastard wouldn’t shoot her. He wouldn’t dare, not when he’d have to explain it to Southampton.

  Shaking with anger, too sickened to look at him, she resolutely faced the water again. “This isn’t the job your employer gave you, Mr. Blade. Now back away from me.”

  “My job, missus, was to end when Lord Pinchpenny collected his gold. And that was to be four days ago, when we caught up to that old ship. But now collecting the gold is taking longer, and his majesty isn’t extending the pay, saying this is all one job. Not one of my crew is happy about it—and I’m looking for my bonus.”

  And she was supposed to pay it? Seething, Georgiana cranked. “Then go ask Southampton for a hand and leave me be.”

  After a short pause, Blade stepped back. Relief touched her for a brief second, then crumbled to horror. He’d moved away from her—and now stood next to the coil of Thom’s air hose, the toe of his boot resting on the line.

  “Don’t you dare! I’ll kill you if you do!”

  Blade regarded her with hard amusement. “It seems to me that your husband’s diving deeper than most men can. That he even told his lordship the dive was impossible. An accident wouldn’t be no surprise. And then there won’t be questions if you’re dead next. There’s no use for you if your man’s not alive, and if I didn’t do it here, his lordship would do it himself when we went back above. So give me your free hand, missus.”

  The filthy disgusting coward. Georgiana glanced around her. There was nothing to protect herself with. And she didn’t dare leave the pump.

  “Give me your hand, missus.”

  Setting her jaw, she looked down at the water. No bubbles in sight yet. No Thom coming back up.

  Blade’s boot pressed down, flattening the hose against the platform boards. The pump wheezed, jolting terror through her heart.

  He would murder Thom.

  Sick with rage and fear, Georgiana lifted her hand. Blade stepped off the hose, coming around behind her shoulder again. Hard fingers circling her wrist, he pressed the back of her gloved fist to the front of his trousers. Not demanding bare skin or her participation. He hadn’t wanted her touch. He’d just wanted to force her—and to win.

  But only for now. Georgiana stared ahead, briefly imagining turning her hand around and crushing Blade’s organ through his trousers. She didn’t dare risk it, though, when he’d likely shoot her and step on the hose again or knock over the pump in his agony. It had to be decisive. She couldn’t allow him the opportunity to use his gun or react. So she watched the water, sending air to her husband and killing Blade a thousand times over in her head.

  As she would in truth.

  The moment he’d stepped on Thom’s air hose and forced her hand, Blade’s days had ended. In Skagen, or in any civilized land, she’d have had another recourse. Law and authority would have punished Blade for this. But not on the seas. Here, there would be no justice except what she took.

  Blade believed she was helpless. That was the only reason a coward like him would have ever dared this. But Georgiana was just delaying her response until her husband was safe.

  And she needed a weapon. Thom had knives in his arms, he’d said. But to prevent the other mercenaries and Southampton from assuming Blade’s death was an attack on the ship, it had to be done before the platform reached the top, and Thom would have to rip through his canvas suit to access the blades.

  He needed that suit to dive for the submersible tonight, and a patched one wouldn’t be as safe. A knife also ran the danger of spilling blood into the water.

  Something blunt, instead.

  Would she need to fear Southampton’s retaliation? Probably not. He’d said himself that any of the other mercenaries could have fulfilled Blade’s duties. Southampton wouldn’t do anything to risk losing the gold. He’d kill her and Thom if they jeopardized its recovery—and he’d kill them after he received the coins. But for Blade? Georgiana didn’t think so.

  Beside her, Blade grunted. Georgiana yanked her hand away. Abandoning the pump for the space of a second, she ripped off her glove and tossed it into the water.

  Laughing, Blade stooped to her ear. “That was good, missus. No
w if your husband doesn’t bring up the gold this time, he’ll be going down again. And if you want him to suck on a hose when he does, then you’ll suck on mine.”

  Sour revulsion burned in her throat. Her face froze into a mask of hate, darker and colder than any she’d ever known. She did not wonder anymore at what Thom had feared in himself when the tower had come down. It must have been like the rage she felt now—all-consuming, such fury that only love and Thom’s very life prevented her from rising up and destroying the man behind her, without fear of his gun or her own death or any other pain.

  But this was not an animal’s rage. It was a rightful rage, and purely human.

  It filled her to the brim, a furnace that pistoned her aching arm around and around, that fired hotter with each bellowing breath she took. She waited, kneeling and stiff, her body like iron, her eyes fixed on the water.

  An hour passed. Bubbles popped on the surface. Then movement under the sea. Relief and joy broke through at the same time Thom did, water streaming around the brass dome. He hauled himself up the tether cable and over the platform, the air hose in a giant coil at his side—he must have been gathering it during his slow ascent. He dropped from the tether, landing with a heavy thud that rocked the platform and rattled the chains.

  Georgiana flew to him, her fingers working at the thumbnuts that fastened the dome to the suit. His glass plate had already fogged again. She helped him lift the heavy helmet and at her first sight of his face, fear made her cry out.

  “Thom!” Bloodshot, his eyes had more red than white. His skin was pale, and sweat plastered his thick hair to his head. “Oh, dear God. How are you feeling?”

  “All right. Only a few rough minutes.” Tiredly, he shook his head. “But I think it’ll get worse before it gets better.”

  Heart thumping, she nodded. That was how the divers’ disease came on—worse after he was out of the water. “We’ll get you to bed. Mr. Blade! We’re ready to go up.”

  Blade turned to clank the platform chain with the barrel of his gun, shouting up to the airship. A moment later, the platform jerked beneath them and they began to rise.