Page 54 of Ondine

He exhaled in a vast surge of relief. She lived!

“Get him!”

The whisper sounded from the far corner of the room. Warwick stiffened and, with narrowed eyes, observed that corner.

There were three men: the fat brute he’d come upon in the hallway; a skinny fellow, with teeth so yellow they might have been a jackal’s; and a third, no cleaner, yet not so much like a treacherous varmint in appearance.

“Gents,” he said quietly, “give way. And I tell you, if she is in any way touched—”

“Damn you. Josh, for a coward!” the one with the yellow teeth cried out. “Slay him, man, he’s alone!”

Yellow teeth drew his knife with a growl; Warwick gazed with narrowed eyes from him to Ondine.

She stared at him, as if confused, barely recognizing him, but she seemed aware.

He thought that he must free her first, lest they think to unman him with a threat to her person.

He could not afford to have the threat of harm to her held against him as a lethal weapon.

He stepped into the room, his sword held high, and quickly slashed the bonds that held her.

“Go!” he charged her. “Topside, to Justin!”

She tried to move; she was so dazed and sore that it was a difficult measure at best. The weasel was coming at Warwick then, crouched low, his knife in his hands.

A heavy fellow she hadn’t seen before was taking courage from that action, advancing from the side, near her. Josh was taking the other side.

“Get out of here, Ondine!”

She couldn’t; she was dazed, but she couldn’t leave him to such odds. Glancing around, she saw the filthy water pitcher on the table, and as the men paid her no heed, she reached for it, swerving terribly in her attempt.

The weasel lunged first—apparently he had no notion of Warwick’s talents with his weapon. The sword whistled through the air; the weasel gasped and sank into a pool of his own blood.

The other two were stunned, then panicked. Together they rushed for Warwick, as if innately aware that neither could be hero or coward; survival meant combined strength and action.

Ondine raised her pitcher in a heavy lunge, then gasped in horror, for she struck neither the weasel nor the burly man, but caught her husband square against his temple.

“Oh, God!” she gasped.

He caught his reeling head and barely twisted in time to slice the burly fellow’s arm from wrist to shoulder, reducing him to a heap of groaning helplessness.

Josh backed away to the corner of the room, dropping his weapon.

Warwick, stunned, turned to stare at Ondine.

“Madam, just whose side are you on?”

“I’m sorry! So sorry!”

“I told you to get out of here!”

“I—I couldn’t leave you!”

“Go—now!”

She tried to step; she swayed. He caught her, keeping a wary eye upon the last man as he did so.

“What have you done to her?”

He fell to the floor, hands clenched in prayer. “Spare me, Your Grace, spare me! ’Tis a drug, nothing more! Will wear away in minutes now, I swear it upon my soul!”

Ondine stared into Warwick’s eyes. He returned her glare, but with no tenderness. He touched her face, and the feel of his hand was not cruel, yet he seemed so—harsh.

“I’ll know what happened here!” he told the man.

Josh shook his head in desperation. “We were paid! Paid with coin and well! She was to be taken to a gentleman downriver.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, by God, I don’t know! I’d tell you if I did! Only the captain knew the man—he didn’t want himself known to any.”

And the captain was dead, Warwick thought bitterly.

There was movement behind him. Warwick, with Ondine cradled against him, quickly spun, raising his sword.

“Warwick—’tis me!” Justin warned him quickly. “Just me and Buckingham.”

Warwick thrust Ondine into his arms. “Take her,” he said hoarsely. “Take her—and start back.”

Justin didn’t understand his brother’s raw emotion and stiffness. He sighed with relief and caught Ondine, baffled, for she seemed unharmed, yet she could not stand on her own.

“Wait!” she called. “Warwick, I—”

“Get her out of here! Bring her back to our rooms and order Jake to guard her, to sit on her if need be!”

Ondine gave in. Her head still swam; she had no strength. Justin lifted her into his arms, and she merely closed her eyes with weary relief, clinging to him.

Buckingham stepped into the cabin as Justin left it with his burden. “Some rubbish remains alive,” he told Warwick, staring at their captive.

“Aye,” Warwick murmured, “but I learn nothing.”

“Only the captain knew—” came the plaintive cry of their prisoner, but Buckingham cut him off with a cold and cruel laugh.

“Only the captain knew! Aye, we’ve heard that one. But we’ve ways and means, my fine fellow! Wait till you feel the caress of the Earl of Exeter’s daughter!”

The man paled, for the “Earl of Exeter’s daughter” meant the rack, and no man remained unscathed from such torment.

“I tell you—”

Buckingham turned calmly to Warwick. “It seems we’ve saved not only your bride, Warwick, but a score of beauties kept in the hold! This captain and his crew claimed to trade with Spain; kidnapping young lasses was their real business, bound for the harems of Morocco.”

Warwick arched a brow. He could feel little guilt or pity for so much blood strewn now that he knew the purpose of these men.

But neither could he feel relief, for he believed the mewling wretch before him—this man did not know who had paid the sum to have Ondine delivered to him.

Hardgrave! he thought in fury. Hardgrave and Anne! Yet Anne had almost fallen prey to these pirate slavers herself, and Hardgrave had fought beside him with a determination to equal his own.

“Leave him to the courts of law, Buckingham,” Warwick said, shaking his head. “We’ll get nothing from him.” He turned, disgusted, and strode his way back to the open deck. The stench of the place was enough to rot a man.

He held tight to the rail at the starboard side, gritting his teeth as a convulsion of anguish swept through him.

How he’d quivered to see her alive and well!

How he’d loved her when he’d seen her, dazed and dizzy—striking him, but meaning to be there for him, ready to fight at his side.

Ah, her face, her beautiful face! The expression upon it had been sweetly comical when she’d realized her mistake.

By God, she was his heart, his soul, his every breath of desire.

He wanted with every fiber of his being to reach her, hold her to his chest and cherish her face, her lips, her hair, her form, her very life—her laughter and her warmth, her temper and her spirit.

He winced, for he knew he could not. Today had proved him a wretched protector.

And he had underlined the fact to a shattering degree that she seemed to be safe nowhere, not while she was his wife.

He sighed deeply. In time the king’s guards would arrive to round up the living remainder of this motley crew. He could ride back to the cottage at Newmarket, where they had found such absolute peace and bliss in each other’s arms.

And there, tonight, he must refute her, coldly and cruelly, for he knew her courage and spirit. She would fight him; she believed fiercely that she owed him the debt of her life, and even if she was frightened, she would not willingly leave him until she felt she had paid her debt to him.

She had to leave him! She had to live! Even if he had to play the beast in truth to force her to do so.

* * *

Ondine awaited Warwick with the greatest anxiety. She didn’t understand him, but she knew him well, and in that she knew he had changed once again. He had ridden like the wind to her rescue, yet it seemed that then he directed his anger against her!

Jake was, as ever, good to her, but remained detached. As Warwick had commanded, he all but sat upon her.

She had felt so touched by filth that she had instantly bathed; but then she had felt so lonely that she’d asked Jake to fetch Justin, and though Jake hesitated, he finally did as bidden.

Ondine was irritated to a flaming wrath with both Warwick and Jake. How could anyone suspect Justin of foul deeds?

But when Justin came, Ondine learned that he knew very well his brother held him in suspicion, and though he did not cry out against Warwick, it was apparent that he was very hurt.

He sipped the port that they morosely shared, staring into her eyes, cleared at last of the drug.

“He believes that Genevieve was murdered, I see that now. But that he could think that I—”

He stopped, choking on bile.

Ondine, convinced of his innocence, tried to soothe him. “I think, Justin, that he loved her so very much that he is still crazed by it. He—he did adore her?”

Justin rose and shrugged. “He was always gentle and tender and very good to her. Yet who knows what my brother thinks in truth, for he is capable of great reserve and silence. And today . . . I can’t believe he means you any cruelty, Ondine.

He is merely furious because he was so frightened for you, and because he cannot discover who was behind it all.

” He hesitated a minute, not wishing to distress her further.

“You do know that someone—some man—had paid those knaves a vast sum for your delivery?”

Ondine rose suddenly. “Anne!”

“Anne?” Justin frowned. “Ondine. I saw her myself, wretched and shaken by the snake that almost took her!”

She shook her head furiously. “Justin, I heard her! I heard her telling Hardgrave something about a vial from the king’s laboratory. They stole the drug used upon me! She feigned the attack so that none would notice my disappearance; Hardgrave was then the man who would have had me downriver!”

Justin stared at her strangely, then shook his head and touched her cheek with tender affection. “I don’t doubt that Lyle Hardgrave would pay a pretty sum just to touch you with one finger, my sweet beauty! But Hardgrave rode with us and fought bravely.”

“A sham!”