A Wedding By Dawn. Alison DeLaine

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ were footsteps behind him, and Jaxbury’s voice cut through the night. “India said you threatened to shoot her. Threaten her with your pistol again, and you’ll find your own way back to England.”

      Nick didn’t bother to turn. “Now that we’re aboard, there won’t be a need to threaten her.”

      “Believe that, and you are a damned fool.” Jaxbury laughed and crossed his arms, joining Nick at the railing.

      “We’ll be underway in the morning, soon as I find the rest of my crew.”

      “Can’t make England come quickly enough to suit me,” Nick muttered, and contemplated taking a longboat to shore for half a night’s rest.

      “Then you’d better hope the roads through France are passable.”

      Nick’s gaze shot to Jaxbury. “What are you talking about?”

      “Change of plans,” Jaxbury said.

      Now Nick straightened. “Devil there are. You’ll return us to England as you promised.”

      “Happy to, if you’d like to wait a few years.”

      “Now listen here, Jaxbury.” Nick advanced on him. “The agreement was you would help me find her and return us to England along with that ship you were hunting. Immediately.”

      Now Jaxbury’s expression hardened. “Helped you find her, and I don’t care to do anything more. Damned unpleasant business, Warre. Ought to leave you here to find your own way, but I’ve got to get those two away from the Possession. After that—” He shrugged. “Got a mind to stay here awhile and do a bit of trading.”

      “That was not the agreement!”

      “Ought to be plenty of priests in Marseille to do your job for you.”

      France was absolutely, positively out of the question. “You know bloody well a trip through France will present a thousand opportunities for her to run off and get into God knows what kind of trouble.” And would require passage through Paris.

      “Not my problem, Warre.”

      He’d spent fourteen years avoiding Paris and the man who lived there—a man he never cared to meet. Whose existence he tried to forget, but couldn’t.

      “What about Miss Germain?”

      “Miss Germain is my problem. Not yours. We require passage directly to England,” he bit out, knowing there wasn’t a damned thing he could do if Jaxbury refused. “As agreed.”

      “Then I suggest you return to shore and find another ship.”

      Jaxbury knew bloody well that wasn’t an option. On Jaxbury’s ship Lady India was safely locked away; if he arranged for passage aboard a different ship, he would have to try to control her without being noticed. He couldn’t hold a pistol on her from the folds of his greatcoat for an entire voyage—especially not when he would likely be bedridden the entire time.

      It would be no different in France, riding in jolting coaches from one inn to the next while those devious blue eyes plotted death and destruction at every stop, where she would have plenty of opportunity to beg, cajole, win support...even divest herself of her virtue.

      Hell.

      * * *

      IT WAS WILLIAM who brought their breakfast the next morning. And William again, an hour later, who came with other news.

      “Warre is sick. Had to set sail without my surgeon, thanks to you two, and I need you—” he pointed at Millie “—to tend to him.”

      “Is he going to die?” India asked hopefully from the hammock.

      “Not going to die.” William looked at her pointedly. “Not by your hand, either.”

      That remained to be seen. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” She pushed the hammock idly with her toe. “The thought of killing someone never crossed my mind. I’m quite content. I can’t think when I’ve enjoyed a voyage more, if you must know—”

      “Devil that,” Millie said irritably, facing William with her hands clenched. “If Lord Taggart’s ailment isn’t life-threatening, then he can tend to himself.”

      “I could tend to him,” India offered.

      William barked a laugh. “You will stay as far away from Warre as the ship allows. And you—” he pointed at Millie again “—will tend to Warre, or you’ll not leave this cabin. You’ll find what you need in the infirmary.”

      There was a small commotion in the passageway, and two sailors wrestled India’s and Millie’s trunks into the cabin and dropped them on the floor with a thud.

      “Don’t get any ideas,” William warned when they left. “Been all through those trunks. Nothing more dangerous in there than—well, might have said a petticoat, but neither of you own one. Best put on something warm,” he said to India. “I’m sending you up the yards.”

      “You are?” The promise of freedom got the better of her, and India jumped off the hammock.

      “In a merciful mood. And we’re a man short. My boatswain is under strict orders that you’re not to have a moment’s rest.”

      India narrowed her eyes at him. “I can’t believe Nicholas Warre approves your releasing us from this cabin.” She studied his expression for any hint that there had been a falling-out, that William might have become an ally.

      “Not Warre’s ship,” he said flatly. “You’ll not throw yourselves overboard without somebody seeing it, and if you try, you’ll not see the outside of this cabin until we reach France.”

      “France,” Millie said sharply.

      “We’re not sailing for England?” India asked. New hope flooded through her so fast she felt light-headed.

      “Marseille,” William said. “And once you go ashore, you’ll be Warre’s problem and not mine.”

      “You’re going to leave me with him? In France?”

      “Aye. Now hurry up—Warre’s green with mal de mer, a stiff breeze is coming up and we’re about to go full sail.”

       CHAPTER SIX

      MAL DE MER. They expected her to spend her life tied to a man who suffered from mal de mer? For the next two days, India watched Nicholas Warre emerge from the cabin for short reprieves on the upper deck, where he would stand with his hands curled around the railing and his elbows locked, staring at the horizon, braced against the ship’s motion—the glorious, magnificent roll and sway that made the wood and ropes creak and splashed sea spray into the air to mist her face.

      From the lower deck India watched him emerge again, making his way up the stairs wearing no wig, no hat, no turban. His dark hair ruffled in the breeze and glistened in the sunshine. Without СКАЧАТЬ