The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance (40 page)

Nicholas blew out a frustrated breath. Phin was right. This was his opportunity to return the king’s gold and get in his good graces. And the only reason he wanted to be in the king’s good graces was so that he could clear Emmaline’s name, once and for all. To put to rest Lady
Anne.

For only then could Emmaline be a free woman, no longer shackled by her pirating past. And that, he would gladly do for her.

If only it didn’t mean leaving her when she needed him the most.

“I can’t leave her.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat.

Phin’s expression softened and Nicholas wanted to plant his fist in the man’s face. He didn’t want pity or sorrow. He wanted Emmaline back. The gold be damned. The king be damned.

“To save her, you must. The other men and I will take care of her. Dr. Harper will be here. As soon as you’re finished, you can return here. It’s only a few days’ ride.” Phin stood and clapped Nicholas on the shoulder. “You know what you need to do.”

He looked down on Emmaline. So peaceful. Wherever her mind was, no demons followed. He lowered himself to sit on the side of the bed and took her warm hand.

“Ah, Emmaline. What would you want me to do?”

Her goal hadn’t been the gold, or to uncover a traitor to the crown. She’d merely wanted revenge. But at what cost? She’d once told him that if she lost her life in the fight but her revenge was complete, she’d die a happy woman. Was that still the case? Did their love mean more to her than revenge?

And now that it was over, what came next? Had she thought that far ahead? Would she want a “normal” life? One in which she could do all those things she’d scorned weeks ago? Rides in Hyde Park? Tea with other ladies? The ability to walk down the street without fear of discovery?

If she didn’t want those things, he would gladly, happily go wherever she wanted, do whatever she wanted. But in order to make that choice, she had to
have
that choice, and right now, she didn’t. By telling the king that Emmaline uncovered a traitor, Nicholas could return her life back to her.

But he had to leave her in order to do so, and the thought made him sick. Like it had done
a thousand times already, his mind turned to that last fight between father and daughter. He should have known Blackwell was going to attack. He should have anticipated, prepared, defended his wife better. If he had, she would be awake right now, and together they could take the gold to the king.

But she wasn’t awake. Instead she was fighting a far deadlier battle. One which he couldn’t help her with or defend against. Whatever was going on inside her, it was up to her to fight. Like it had been her entire life.

Damn it, for once, he wanted her to need his help. For once, he wanted to help her. But that wasn’t Emmaline. Emmaline fought her own battles on her own terms, and he wouldn’t love her so fiercely if it were any other way.

Never before had he a met a stronger woman. Months ago, he would have insisted such a woman didn’t exist. How wrong he’d been, and how glad he was he’d been so wrong. Emmaline was everything he’d never imagined, everything he’d always wanted in a woman, but never knew.

It stung his manly pride that she didn’t lean on him as other women would have, and yet it also made him proud that she found an inner fortitude, and didn’t have to rely on a man.

He raised her hand and brushed her lifeless fingers against his cheek. The tears he’d been fighting broke through and dripped upon her hand. He had to believe she would return to him. He had to have faith in her will to live and her fighting spirit. He had to trust in their love for each other.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek, tucking her hand beneath the covers. “I love you, sweet Emmaline.”

The outside world returned to Emmaline painfully, one piece at a time. She opened her eyes only to close them against the bright sun streaming in through her windows. She moved her arms, testing her injuries. Her mind was foggy, bits and pieces of the battle coming to her, then slowly
drifting away. There had been gold pieces. And her father. A traitor to his country and his king.

She moved her legs, wincing when her side pulled. Gently, she touched her stitches, feeling the length and breadth of them. She remembered Nicholas rushing Blackwell, and a fight, but that was all.

Her lids fluttered and she forced them open, her eyes watering at the unexpected light. She was in a bedchamber, that much she could see. Pushing against the bed, she levered herself to a sitting position, resting against the headboard.

Where was everyone? How long had she been unconscious?

She closed her eyes, her head tilted toward the window, soaking up the warmth of the sun’s rays. Images flitted through her mind. The waterfall where she and Nicholas made love. The ball where she and Nicholas married. Her fingers curled into the blanket and she bunched it in her hand. So many memories.

Then her father’s words came back to her, as clear as if he were standing in front of her.
I admire you
.

The last thing she wanted was his admiration. That’s not why she became a pirate, and not what she wanted her life to be. She wasn’t seeking her father’s approval, but rather, his downfall. He hadn’t understood, couldn’t have understood, how someone like her couldn’t be like him. All those years and he didn’t get it.

She opened her eyes, tears spilling out of them from the pain of the light, the pain in her side and the pain in her heart. She’d wasted all those years on a revenge that in the end meant nothing, because it destroyed her more than it destroyed her father.

A traitor’s blood ran through her veins, tainting her more than ever. Nicholas would never bring her to his family, could never publicly acknowledge her. Not with her father’s deeds staining her. Not now that she knew she was bastard-born.

The door creaked open and she turned her head, holding her breath. What could she possibly say to Nicholas now that these revelations were out in the open? Besides goodbye.

But it wasn’t Nicholas who entered. It was a younger-looking man with a wide smile and
tousled, sun-bleached hair. “You’re awake.”

“Who are you?” Her voice was rough from disuse and she had to clear her throat.

“I’m Jacob Harper, the physician who’s been taking care of you.”

Her gaze shot to the door. “Where’s Nicholas?”

Harper hesitated and Emmaline slumped back into the pillows. “He left.” It wasn’t a question and Harper didn’t answer. Instead he settled into the chair beside her bed, looking her over critically. “Any pain?”

Oh, yes, there was pain, but she didn’t think he was speaking of that.
He left
. “Some. Not much.”

“Stomach cramps?”

She frowned. “No.”

“Lady Addison.” He leaned forward, his expression serious for such a young face. Earnest and … caring. “I’m sorry to tell you that you lost the child you were carrying.”

“I wasn’t carrying a child.” Was she? Oh, Lord.
Was she?
Automatically, her hand went to her stomach and her mind went back to the last sailing, when seasickness seemed to plague her, as it never had before. Had she been with child?

Heat washed through her. Heat and horror and guilt and grief. Did she kill their child by going into battle?

The doctor took the hand that had bunched the blanket, and uncurled her fingers. “You must not think what you’re thinking.”

“And, pray tell, what am I thinking?” She wanted him to leave. She wanted to curl into a ball and cry until there were no more tears left. She’d lost everything. Nicholas and a child she hadn’t even known she was carrying. She didn’t even have her revenge to carry her through anymore, because Blackwell was dead and labeled a traitor. She should have found some relief in that, but there was none. Just an inky blackness inside her. A gaping hole that continued to grow until it swallowed her up.

“You’re thinking this was your fault, but it wasn’t.”

“And how do you know?” She yanked her hand away.

“You were fighting a fever. Your body simply couldn’t fight for your life and your child’s.” He patted her hand. “There will be others. You’re a strong woman. Healthy, thanks to me.” His smile wasn’t full of arrogance, but rather mischief, and despite her overpowering emotions, she found herself liking him.

“Thank you, Mr. Harper.” Except there wouldn’t be any more children, because she was married to a man who couldn’t claim her as his wife.

“Where is my husband?” She asked again because she needed to hear once and for all that he’d left her.

Jacob Harper rose. “He sailed to London two nights ago.” He left, closing the door behind him and sealing her into her grief. So Nicholas was gone and their child was gone. She finally let the tears loose and found that she’d been wrong. She couldn’t cry until there were no more tears because her tears were endless.

Emmaline huddled into her blanket, the warm breeze coming off the ocean, but chilling her to the bone. Everything had changed. She wasn’t even on her own porch, in her own home. Instead she’d been taken to—hidden in—someone else’s home in a different country. The chasm of darkness inside her ate her whole.

After she awoke two days ago, Phin told her Daniel Blackwell was dead at Nicholas’s hand. She felt bad about that. She didn’t want the blood of her father on Nicholas, but she’d been in no condition to do it herself. According to Phin, Blackwell would have finished her off, if Nicholas hadn’t intervened. Some days she wished Blackwell
had
finished her off.

Phin told her of the days after her injury, of rushing to England because it was closer than Barbados, of Nicholas not leaving her side. At least until he set sail for London. Phin firmly believed Nicholas was doing what was best, but Emmaline knew the real story. Nicholas was cutting all ties with her.

She didn’t blame him.

Daniel Blackwell’s bloodline contaminated her and any children they would have. And the one child they’d created was now gone because her revenge had meant more to her than anything else. If she’d known, if she’d only known she was with child, she wouldn’t have gone.

A lone tear escaped and traveled down her cheek to plop onto the blanket. So many tears. She never realized a body was able to produce that many. Endless, endless tears that wracked her body with sobs that threatened to tear her apart.

Phin appeared from inside the house and sat beside her. “Have you walked today?”

She shook her head. Phin, Clarence and Shamus took Dr. Harper’s advice to heart. He recommended she walk daily to keep the stiffness at bay and to encourage healing, but she had no desire to walk. She had no desire to do anything.

“The remaining ships are repaired,” he said, apparently deciding not to nag her in regards to her exercise this time.

“Thank you.” But what did it matter anymore? Could she sail again? Did she even want to? There were times when she wanted nothing more than to board a ship and head toward the horizon, to lose herself in the anonymity of the endless, unforgiving sea. But mostly the thought of boarding a ship was too overwhelming, and so she sat there, looking at the waves, hating them and yearning for them at the same time.

“I’m setting sail tomorrow,” Phin said. “I’d hoped you would go with me.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Sail? I can hardly walk.”

“You can hardly walk because you refuse to walk. You refuse to do anything but sit there and feel sorry for yourself.”

“I don’t feel sorry for myself.”

“You sit here day in and day out, wrapped in your blanket, staring at the sea. This isn’t the Emmaline I know. The Emmaline I know would have boarded her ship and sailed after what she wanted. She would have gone after Nicholas and given him a piece of her mind. She wouldn’t sit here like a … a … lump.”

“Lump?” She’d never seen Phin like this before. He never yelled at her. “I’m not a lump.”

“What happened to the woman who commanded her own life? The one who set her own course? Who made a plan and carried it out?”

Gone, she wanted to say. Her father not only took her history from her, but her future as well, and with it her very essence.

“Nicholas Addison did not abandon you like your father.”