Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (82 page)

“How is it she is cold? The temperature is warm.”

“I do not know. I have heard of such sickness, but I do not know the whys of it.” He raked a shaking hand down his face. “My mother always used willow in warm water to halt our fevers when we were children. I remember once when Desma was a mite, Mother would not allow us to see her. The servants prepared willow for her. My father's sadness was mournful. His joy overflowed when Desma recovered. 'Tis why my father was beside himself when she was taken.”

“Nicolaus, you cannot take blame. Your father was sending her to Knosis and would have never seen her again.”

“He was doing as he thought best. It is our way. You know this. Knosis is one of the wealthiest men. He would have provided well for her.”

“With a nice tomb, no doubt.”

“Xandros, please. I know you are correct. It is of little use to argue since Desma is no longer with us.” He brushed his hand over Ada's damp brow. The heat of her skin was worrisome. He stood and glanced out the window. Although only half a day, there was still many leagues between them and the next port. However, if they turned around— He faced Xandros. “I would have a healer for her. We should return to Joppa.”

“You risk running into Knosis.”

“Captain!”

Nicolaus leaned out the door at his brother's urgent call and followed the line of his pointing finger. “How many?”

“Three, maybe more,” Brison replied.

Nicolaus muttered a few curses beneath his breath and paced toward Ada, his arms crossed over his chest as Xandros poked his head out the door.

“It seems we're about to meet with him now,” Nicolaus said.

“Ay, that it does, Captain.”

Chapter Twelve

H
e was in a raging squall if there ever was one. Brison had not lied when he said there were three ships. All of which were heavily armed and surrounding his own vessel. His fingers itched to draw his sword, but such an act would be certain death. Not only for him, but for his entire crew.

“What is it you think he wants?” Xandros asked.

“He most assuredly wishes to search my vessel in hopes of finding a bride.” Nicolaus narrowed his eyes as Knosis prepared to board them. “Do not draw your weapons. No matter what Knosis demands.”

Xandros looked at him out the corner of his eye with a slight smile turning his mouth upward. “Even if he threatens to take Ada.”

Nicolaus pressed his lips together. Did his second-in-command miss the thrill of skirmishes? Nicolaus had to admit to a bit of excitement thrumming through his blood. If it had not been for Ada on board he would have welcomed a fight. “If he threatens such I will see to him myself, no matter the consequences. She is not his to take, nor is she my father's to give.”

Xandros nodded toward the white-haired man maneuvering the plank boards between their ships. The man may be older than the sea itself but he was agile. “He may not see things that way, and it seems, given the vessels accompanying him, he has the law on his side.”

Knosis stepped down onto the deck and eyed Nicolaus from head to toe. “So you're the one who lost my bride.”

Nicolaus flinched but kept his tongue from spewing venom. No doubt the ruthless brute stole his sister himself and cried mishap for the loss.

“You've the look of your father. Strong chin and nose. A tall muscular build. How is it you allowed anyone to board your ship?”

The muscles Knosis spoke of twitched. The scars he bore from his time in captivity burned with rage at this man for his daring. “I allowed you on my ship.”

Knosis rested his chin against his fist. “So you have.”

“What is it you require, Knosis? I have little time for visits.”

“I've heard about your father's challenge. He always did like his games. Did he tell you how I came to be your sister's betrothed?”

Nicolaus fought the urge to clench his fists. If Knosis thought to tempt him to anger with his insinuations, it was working. However, he could not allow it to show lest he end up in manacles.

“I see he hasn't.” Knosis folded his hands behind his back and paced, his long white tunic dragging across the planks. “He wasn't much younger than you are now when we accepted the challenge of a merchant from Joppa. To Alexandria and back, much like I hear you and your brother are doing now. Whoever brought back the most merchandise won.” Knosis folded his hands together. “The prize, your mother.”

“My father is a fine sailor.”

“I do not contest his abilities. However, your mother was a prize to be had. Enough for an Ionian to break tradition and marry a Dorian.”

Nicolaus knew well the traditions of their people marrying only within their tribe. It had also been the source of many conflicts over the ages. Dorian women seemed to attract Ionian men.

“I suspected your father had somehow cheated, stealing your mother from me.”

Nicolaus flinched at the accusation. No greater man of honor than his father could be found in all of Greece.

“It was not until after your birth that I discovered from one of your father's former crew exactly how he'd cheated. I gave your father the choice of prison—” Knosis halted in front of Nicolaus and looked him in the eye “—or his firstborn daughter as my bride.”

“My father would do no such thing.” Nicolaus gripped the hilt of the knife tucked in his belt. How dare this man disparage his father's honor.

“Yet, he sent you to deliver her to me.”

All the air rushed out of his lungs. His hands fell to his sides. If Knosis told the truth—and for what other reason would his father have agreed to marry Desma to this relic—his anger was misplaced. How could his father have done such a thing? “He did.”

“I kept my promise and did not have your father arrested. I can still do so. I have my doubts as to whether or not you were set upon by thieves. I cannot believe your sister, something precious to you, could have been stolen from the great Dragon.”

“Doubts? You have doubts?” Nicolaus shook with anger. Whether at Knosis or his father, he did not know. One thing was for sure—because of their history he'd spent months chained to a wall and whipped daily to break his will, and his sister was nowhere to be found. Who knew what terror she was living at the moment. If the man wanted proof of his innocence he'd give it to him. Drawing in a deep breath, he gripped his tunic at the neck and rent it down the middle to bare his chest. He showed Knosis his back, and then turned back around. “Do you still have your doubts?”

Hesitation flickered through Knosis's eyes, and then they hardened. “Your scars do not prove anything, Nicolaus. The fact remains, your father owes me a bride and I mean to see that I receive one.”

“You will not find her here.”

“No?” Knosis smiled as he motioned for a few of his armed men to come forward. “We will see. I had wondered why you didn't make port at Joppa. I heard rumors of your mishap. I asked myself why a captain would avoid making port when he had need of repairs. Endangering your men is not a responsible action for a captain of your repute, Nicolaus.”

Nicolaus narrowed his eyes. What did this man know of his reputation?

“I've no doubt your man here—” he pointed at Xandros “—told you I wished to speak with you. Then I hear tell this very morn that you've a slave woman on board. One that rightly belongs to me.”

“That is not so.”

“Is it not?” Knosis leaned in, piercing Nicolaus with his aged eyes. “You are either a coward or you are hiding something you wish me not to find. Which is it?”

“Perhaps it is neither.”

“I intend to find out.” He motioned his guards forward.

A sickening cough filtered from his quarters and echoed onto the deck. Knosis halted his soldiers with his hand, pulled back and glanced toward the upper room, his eyes wide with concern. “So there is a woman on board?”

“Ay, however I purchased her with my own coin and none of my father's. She belongs to me, not him.”

“Are you not your father's son? His debts are yours, are they not?”

A sickening cough caused the hair on Nicolaus's nape to rise. She was worsening, but her illness may save them. “She has taken ill, Knosis. We did not make port for fear of infecting the whole of Joppa.”

Of course, Nicolaus had no idea she'd been sick until after they'd left, but if it saved her from Knosis then he was fine with the lie he told.

“Leave me be,” Ada hollered. Nicolaus's gut constricted and then released when heard Brison trying to soothe her.

“Ada, get back here.”

Nicolaus glanced at the door to his quarters. Ada stood at the opening, her hands clenched to the posts, one foot dangling from the portal. Nicolaus's heart stopped, fearful that she'd fall until he saw his brother holding on to her. Her tunic clung to her curves. Her hair, soaked from fever, looked as if it hadn't been brushed in ages. However, what concerned him more than anything was the way her eyes darted from one place to another as if she were mad in the head. She kicked and screamed, clawing at Brison as he dragged her back inside.

Knosis cleared his throat, pulling Nicolaus's attention back to him. All the color had drained from the man's face. Knosis stepped away as if he, too, were afraid she was contagious. “I would speak to her, but I can see with my own eyes she is near death.”

Something gripped hold of Nicolaus's innards at his fear being spoken aloud. He'd seen men rage with fevers while held captive. They lay where they fell until the fever passed, or they died. More often than he cared to recount it was the latter. He did not wish the same fate for Ada. She had too much spark, too much fire burning in her blood to be doused so soon.

“Ay,” Nicolaus said, fearing what Knosis said was true. “It is my hope to get her home before it is too late.” The last thing Nicolaus expected to see in his eyes before the old man traversed the planks back to his ship was sympathy, but it was there. Perhaps Nicolaus had misjudged him.

“I leave my vessel in your hands.” Nicolaus began to run toward his quarters but was halted by Xandros. Bristling at the delay, Nicolaus crossed his arms over his chest. He needed to see her, to do all he could to calm her, to make sure she didn't bring harm to herself in her fevered fit. To make sure she didn't expire while on his ship. He would not lose another female under his protection. He couldn't.

“Would you have us sail back to Joppa or on to Paphos?”

Nicolaus clenched his teeth together as he glared at Knosis. The man had nearly fallen into the water as he raced across the planks. He couldn't get off Nicolaus's vessel fast enough after seeing Ada's ill-well, yet for some reason he had yet to command his men to leave. He lifted a silent prayer that Knosis headed away from Joppa as it was the closer port to find a healer. However, Knosis was the greater of evils if he were to get his hands on Ada. “Wait until the ships have sailed, and then make haste in the opposite direction. Tell the men I'll pay thrice their wage for their hard work.”

A tormented scream emitted from his quarters. Nicolaus felt the blood drain from his face and he started to leave again.

“Nicolaus, I've never seen the like, but she very well may have saved herself and you from Knosis. She will be fine. You must believe it. Do what you can to break the fever and give her sips of water. I will see us safe until she is well.”

He prayed his friend was right because he didn't know what he'd do if he wasn't.

Chapter Thirteen

B
right light filtered through Ada's heavy eyelids. A roar filled her ears, sounding as if the skies were in a constant rumble. It was much as if they were in the middle of another storm, except the boat wasn't being tossed from here to there with each crashing wave. Truth be told, she was not moving at all. She flung her eyes open. Pale gray stones created a canopy above her.

Was she no longer on the boat? She tossed the blankets to the side and sat up. The room whirled, blurring her sight. Closing her eyes, she drew in a few slow breaths to halt the dizziness in her head before opening them again. Wooden slats crossed over the windows and colorful pottery with scenes of life painted on them sat on a tiny table. There was little else to decorate the spacious room.

Footsteps shuffled outside the room and halted outside the door. Ada tossed herself back down to the thick cushion and closed her eyes just as the wooden door creaked opened. She kept her eyelids relaxed and her breathing steady trying to pretend she was asleep. However, it did her no good when bony fingers peeled her lids open.

“Ay, I see you're finally awake.” The gnarled hand smacked against Ada's brow, causing both her eyes to open. “Your fever's gone. Your eyes are clear. That's good. The captain was beside himself with worry, fearing you'd die.”

“I've taken ill?”

The old woman ignored her and leaned in close, pressing her ear to Ada's chest. Was the woman mad? Ada sank deeper into the mattress.

“What are you doing?”

“Hold still. I'm checking your breaths.”

“It is obvious I am alive.”

“That you are.” The old woman chuckled, straightened to her full height, which wasn't much more than a child, and shuffled toward the small table. She scooped some liquid from one of the pieces of pottery with a ladle and turned back to Ada. “They call me Dorca. I am a healer. Sit up.”

“How long have I been here?” Ada propped onto her elbows and waited for the room to stop spinning again. Easing a little more, she realized slow movements lessened the whirlwind. Once she was sitting she grasped the wooden ladle and sipped. She grimaced. “That is foul. What is it?”

“Herbs to renew your strength. Your captain says you suffer from the sea.”

Ada's stomach soured at the mention of the sea.

“No matter, it is quite common when one is not used to it. I've lived many years and have yet to leave this island. I'll die here, too.”

Answers obviously weren't something Dorca liked to give, so Ada just smiled and took another sip.

“However, I do not think that is what caused your fever and cough.”

She recalled the shivers and the heat, her unsteady feet, which she believed to be the lack of foundation. She recalled the spasms that had racked her body and then nothing more. The corner of her lip twitched as an image of Nicolaus hovered over her. The warmth of him as he carried her. The feeling of security as if he'd make all well. His soft murmured promises she dare not trust. Those were not memories she should recall, if they were even real. She was a slave, not a woman to be loved and cherished above all others. She drew the ladle to her lips. Better to taste the bitter herbs in the cup this woman offered than to long for what could never be.

“You've been here five days.”

“Five days?” The wooden spoon shook as her hand trembled. Liquid spilled onto the cobblestones. Had Nicolaus left her here? Wherever here was. No doubt he had. Winning his father's challenge was important. It was why he sailed into the storm, risking all of their lives. She rose from the mattress and took a step toward the window, needing to know what was beyond the gray walls. What if he had left her? What was she to do then? Ada reached up to open the wooden slats.

“We had another storm, so I kept them closed to keep the breeze from further sickening you.”

Ada bit the inside of her lip.

“He'll be back.” The old woman pounded her hand against the mattress.

“When?” As if it mattered. It was better for her to never see him again. Especially since she seemed drawn to him in a way a slave shouldn't be drawn to her master. She crossed her arms over her stomach as if to keep herself from falling apart.

“Soon.”

“Are we at Nicolaus's home, then?”

The old woman laughed. “No, child.”

Ada nodded. Soon could be days. Weeks. Never. She had no idea what was worse, being close to him knowing he could never take her for a bride, or never seeing him again. Why couldn't Nicolaus have been one of the men visiting her father's house to trade, vying for her attentions? Things might have been different then. She drew in a shuddering breath. Of course they wouldn't have been. Her blood was impure. She was neither Hebrew nor Philistine, and she most assuredly was not Greek. What man wanted a woman without pure blood?

“Since he did not wish me to leave your side, I sent him to the market. You'll need sustenance soon.”

Ada turned and glanced at the old woman. “You sent him where?”

Dorca reached her hand out and brushed it against Ada's brow. The corners of the old woman's eyes crinkled in concern. She nudged Ada toward the bed. “You must rest. Your fever—”

“I'm well.” Ada waved her away and rushed to the door. Just as she was about the pull it open, it swung wide. Nicolaus ducked his head beneath the post and halted when he spied her, his broad shoulders angled in the entrance. One foot in, one out. The doorway wasn't made for so large a man.

“Ada, you are well?” With a smile curving his mouth, he thrust the basket at the healer and grabbed hold of Ada's arms. His dark hair, kissed by the sun, hung down into his eyes begging her fingers to brush it back into place. “You are truly well.”

She pulled from him, hugging her arms around herself, and stared out the door to the lush greenery dividing Dorca's home from the sea. In the distance, fishing boats bobbed on the whitecaps as they rolled toward the island. Waves battered, pushing against the shore with a whispered roar. Over and over, again and again. Relentless in their soothing destruction, much like Nicolaus in her thoughts, and now in her presence. The vast sea and the man who sought to tame it fascinated her, captivating her thoughts, her soul and worst of all her heart.

Little by little, the breezes smoothing across her cheeks filled her with a sense of longing.
Of belonging.
As if this was truly her home. The call of the birds piercing through the air, the distinct sound of the waves...the man who loomed behind her, they were stealing everything that she ever was, making her forget her past—her mother's—they were giving her hope for a future. What happened to the days when her greatest worry was what trickery her sisters would play? How was she to fight the lure of him, the temptation to fall in love with him when her heart fluttered and took flight like a butterfly whenever he was around?

She hugged herself tighter and clenched her fingers in her tunic. “What are you doing here, Nicolaus?”

“I'll be outside only a moment,” Dorca said as she slipped out of sight.

“What do you mean, Ada?” The soft cadence of his voice tugged her heartstrings, and then he laid his hand on her shoulder, his fingers gently squeezing. A longing deep within wanted to accept the comfort he offered, to spin herself around and fling herself into his arms, but she knew there could never be anything between them outside of master and slave. She wouldn't allow it. Even if it meant her death for her disobedience.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Life would have been much more endurable if he'd left and she'd never seen him again. She knew that now. Knew it the moment he smiled when he caught sight of her, knew it when she wanted to comb her fingers through his ruffled hair, but more than that, because of her illness he'd lose his father's challenge. She did not want to be the cause of their failures. Enough blame had been placed on her head where her sisters had been concerned and look where that had gotten her, on some island in the middle of the Great Sea, falling for a man who could never be hers. “Do you not have a race to win?”

His lips pressed together into a firm line. His jaw ticked. “I do not understand. Who told you—”

She shook her head. “I heard pieces of conversations among your crew. It was easy to gather the truth. Your ambition is admirable. My father would appreciate your tenacity. Not many would sail through a fierce storm, risking the lives of their men just to win a game.”

His nostrils flared, and his muscles seemed to expand, making the spacious room grow small. The air around them crackled. She fought the urge to take a step back.

“And what of his daughter?” His frigid tone chilled her like the cool desert night. Had she angered him, pushed him too far? Just as well. Perhaps, his anger would distant him.

Lifting her chin, she looked him straight in the eye, sharing all of her built-up emotions over the past few days. Her confusion, her longing and most of all her anger at never having what her heart desired. A husband, children. Him. “His daughter is nothing more than a slave with no opinion of her own.”

They stared at each other for several long seconds. His jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. Her heartbeat thumped against her chest as she sought to steady her breaths. Somehow the space between them had closed. If she reached her hand up, she could touch his cheek and soothe the anger burning in his eyes. But if she did, like she very much wanted to, her world would no doubt turn into a raging fire. Never to be doused.

“That small detail has not stopped you thus far, Ada. However, I grant you the freedom to speak as you wish.” His words vibrated through her, and she dropped her gaze to the intricately designed cobblestones at their feet. “Without consequence.”

She walked to the window to place distance between them and opened the slats. The endless, blue field made her feel small, of little importance on this earth, and yet this man she'd grown to care for dared to tame its wildness. She drew in a deep breath of salty air in hopes of drowning the scent of him. Unfortunately for her, Nicolaus and the sea smelled much the same. “I do not pretend to know what it is like to be a man, to have to provide for his family. However—” not wanting him to think she was a coward, even though her insides quaked, she faced him “—from all I've witnessed, the hunger for wealth produces greed, greed eats the soul until the heart is hardened. Hardened enough that there is no care for anything beyond gaining more wealth, even at the cost of other people's lives.”

Had not her own mother been a victim to such greed? Her father chased riches, leaving his slaves in the care of his wife, leaving her mother to suffer her cruelty.

Nicolaus's heart was far from stone, she knew that. She'd seen his care for mere strangers, herself included. He had even provided a wet nurse for the babe. If Nicolaus hadn't been out in the storm those people would have perished. So why did her mind insist on comparing him to her father and finding them of similar thought?

“There are things you do not know, nor are they of any concern to you. The merchandise aboard that vessel means nothing to me as it was purchased with my father's coin. The ship is my chance at freedom, my chance to do as I please without my father's games.” He moved closer, stalking her like a lion its prey. “You've no idea what it is I risk by tarrying here waiting for you to get well. It is much more than a few pieces of cloth and earthenware jars of honey and oil. It is much more than a simple vessel owned by my father, which I designed and helped build with my own two hands. Furthermore,
slave
, as you so often remind me of your status, I had no real
care
to win my father's game until I reached Ashkelon. Until I purchased
you
with my own coin.”

* * *

That full bottom lip of hers fell open and then snapped shut. Her lashes fluttered, fanning against her cheeks. But he'd seen the amber of her eyes swirl to warm honey, the same color they'd turned right before he'd tried to kiss her only days before. She shifted forward, her hand hovering between them.

He gripped her wrist, the warmth of her skin, the beat of her pulse... Squeezing his eyes shut, he swallowed past the thick knot forming in his throat and then shoved her hand away. He yanked open the door and stalked from the cottage. The woman drove him to the brink of madness.

“Nicolaus.” His grandmother stepped in front of him.

He rolled the tension from his shoulders.

“Not now, Yaya.” He kept his gaze above his grandmother's head lest she see the turmoil in his soul. His vessel bobbed with each of the waves. His men had worked for days to repair the mast and from the looks of the unfurled sail, he'd say they succeeded. Now they could go home. “How soon before Ada can sail?”

“You intend to leave?”

He shifted his gaze to his grandmother's. Although the years weighed heavy on her face, disguising the beauty she'd once been, her eyes remained vibrant. “I must.”

“Nicky,” she said as she laid her hand on his forearm. His gaze flicked to hers. She hadn't called him that since he was but a boy. “You care for this woman?”

“It's not so easy as that.” He cared more than he should, more than any sane man would given the way she made him want to kiss her and strangle her in one breath.

“No.” She smiled. “Matters of the heart never are, but she has yet to regain her strength.”

Nicolaus clenched his jaw. “My heart has nothing to do with how I care about this woman.” He blew out a breath of air. “I am sorry, Yaya. She irritates me more than Jasen and Brison did when we were no more than boys.”

His grandmother chuckled and patted his forearm as if to soothe him. “I can see that, Nicky.”

“I give her the night to rest. We must leave on the morrow. It's fortunate for us home is half a day's sail.” He leaned down and kissed her weathered cheek. “I am going for a walk, but will return before the sun disappears.”