My Savage Lord (Hidden Identity) by Colleen French

Author:Colleen French [French, Colleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Evan Marshall Agency
Published: 2018-09-29T16:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

That night in the crate, on the deck of the Kelsey Marie, was the longest Jillian had ever spent. She slipped in and out of sleep due to sheer exhaustion, but was plagued with nightmares. She dreamed Duncan wouldn't take her back. She dreamed he set her afloat on a raft in the ocean. She dreamed her baby was born, a boy, with his father's bear claw tattoo on his cheek.

Dawn's light was just beginning to seep through the cracks in the crate when the gentle roll of the ship began to change. Within minutes, all three occupants were fully awake and clinging to the sides of the crate to keep from sliding to and fro with the movement of the ship.

Will said they were hitting rougher water, that it wasn't unusual. Jillian hung onto Beatrice, huddling under the wool blanket for warmth, and prayed she had not made a mistake in coming after Duncan.

By the dull morning light, Jillian could make out her sister's face. She was as green as one of Daphne's houseplants.

Jillian reached under the blanket to take Beatrice's hand. "Bea?"

"Oh, sweet heaven, Jilly, I feel so sick," she muttered.

"Are you going to be ill?"

"I—I don't know." She panted, pressing her hand to her stomach. "I haven't eaten since yesterday noon."

Jillian dug through the closest carpetbag and pulled out a bundle of bread wrapped in a linen napkin. "I've sweet muffins and water. Would that make you feel better?"

At that moment, Beatrice turned her head and delicately wretched into the corner of the crate.

Will groaned.

"Hush," Jillian hissed, stuffing the muffins back into her bag. "It's rough. She can't help it if she's sick!" She got up on her knees, trying to comfort poor Bea.

"I told you this would be no picnic at Banstead Downs, Jillian," Will said from his corner. "I told you to think twice about bringing her."

Jillian hugged her sister, smoothing her damp hair. Beatrice was sweating profusely. "It's all right, sweetheart. I'll take care of you."

Beatrice moaned and pressed her face into Jillian's shoulder.

"We've got to get her into a bed," Jillian whispered to Will.

"No. It's too soon. If they find us now, Duncan will just order the ship back to the dock. I told you when we agreed to try this, a full twenty-four hours in the box is required. And even then, I can't guarantee the captain won't turn back. It depends on how hefty a bag of coins the good Earl of Cleaves offers him, I suppose."

Beatrice lifted her hand weakly. "I'm fine. Really. Just let me sleep. I don't want to ruin this for you. I won't."

Holding Beatrice with one arm, Jillian retrieved a bottle of fresh water from her bag. "Will, have you a knife?"

"Yes, why?"

"Give it to me. I want to make a compress."

Will crossed the short distance between them at a crawl. "Want me to help?"

"No." She took the knife, speaking coolly. She was annoyed that Will didn't have more compassion. "I can do it myself."

Will retreated to his corner.

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