Full Steam Ahead (28 page)

N
icole gave herself fully to Darius’s kiss, eager to assure him of her love. He groaned his appreciation, his arms tightening around her and bringing her even closer. This man’s love was worth any price. Even the loss of the Lafitte Dagger.

Nicole broke away from the kiss and buried her face in Darius’s shoulder. Her labored breaths rasped loudly in her ears, a product not only of the passion they shared but of the realization that had just rammed into her. If Darius had been the one in Fletcher’s grasp, his life hanging in the balance, she would have handed over the dagger to save him in a heartbeat. No matter how disappointed her father would be over the dagger’s loss, she couldn’t regret setting out on this path. Not when it led her to Darius.

Nestling into the crook of his shoulder, she gloried in the feel of his arms around her, of his cheek pressed against her forehead. This man had saved her. Had nearly given his life for her. Jumping in the river as he did, swimming for who
knew how long to reach her and pull her back from the edge of death. All of this after being shot from his horse—

Nicole sat up abruptly and yanked the flaps of Darius’s coat wide. The red stain glared up at her, the river having spread it to encompass his entire side.

“You’re injured!” she cried. “How could I have forgotten?” She immediately began tugging the shirt from his trousers, intent on assessing the damage, but the rumble of a warm, masculine chuckle stilled her frantic motions.

“I’m fine, Nicole.” His hands covered hers, keeping her from her goal. “The bullet took a chunk out of my flesh, but everything vital is still in good working order. The cold from the river helped stem the bleeding. I’ll be sore for a few days, but I’ll heal.”

“Not if infection sets in. That river is filthy. Just look at all the grime sticking to us.” She scraped the side of her hand against her skirts and collected a disgusting amount of silt. She must look like a half-drowned mud creature. Lovely.

But her appearance was of little consequence. What mattered now was ensuring Darius’s recovery by tending to his injury with all possible haste. Nicole jumped to her feet and grabbed Darius’s hand. She yanked on him until he finally rose to his feet. “We’ve got to get you cleaned up and bandage that wound before it turns septic.”

He stumbled a bit and swayed unsteadily as he worked to plant his feet solidly beneath him. Had a fever already set in? Darius was the strongest man she knew. He could swim for days in that pond of his. No little jaunt in the river to pull her out should have depleted him. She rushed forward and wrapped her arm about his waist. Her own limbs felt as limp as an unstarched crinoline, but she’d gladly loan him what strength she had.

“Here. Lean on me. Let’s find your mount and get back to the road. It shouldn’t be too far.”

Darius raised a brow at her. “It’s at least half a mile.”

“Half a mile?” Nicole straightened and looked around her. Surely he exaggerated. But as she looked around, she saw nothing familiar. The river didn’t even look the same. Cypress roots dangled in the water here, where there had been only grassy banks before.

“You were unconscious for most of the ride.” Darius teased, chucking her under the chin. “Take it from the man who was awake and swimming every inch of the way—we have a bit of a walk ahead of us.”

He held out his hand, and she slipped hers into it. Together they followed the river upstream, staying as close to the banks as they could. The cypress groves lining the water blocked the sun, sending cold shivers through Nicole every time the breeze blew. Her wet skirts dragged on her like iron chains, and it wasn’t long before she had to stop to catch her breath.

“I’ve got to get rid of some of this weight,” she grumbled as she braced an arm against the nearest tree trunk.

“I’m going to duck over here for a moment.” Darius nodded toward a cypress a few yards ahead of where they’d stopped. “Give you some privacy in case you want to . . . make some adjustments.” He waved his hand in a vague manner, then pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before turning his back and hiking to the far side of the tree.

Nicole yanked up her skirt and immediately set to work on her petticoats. She wore three of the wretched things, the top one woven with horsehair for extra stiffness. All it gave her now were extra pounds to carry around. Her cold fingers made slow work of the ties, but eventually all three petticoats fell to the ground in a soggy circle around her feet. She stepped
over the ring, feeling worlds lighter, though without the supporting crinolines her skirt hung several inches too long.

She moved toward the tree where Darius waited, bunching up the extra dress fabric in her hands so she wouldn’t trip. “Do you have a blade with you?” she asked as she rounded the tree. “My skirt needs a trim.”

He pulled a hunting knife from the sheath at his belt and knelt before her like a knight before his lady. With a couple quick slashes, he had the cloth ripping, and soon a long strip several inches wide tore off in his hands.

“Thank you.” She sighed in contentment. Now if only they could get dry.

Darius draped the red fabric over a low-hanging limb, and as it flapped in the wind, he offered her his hand. She reached for him, but the sound of approaching footsteps had Darius shoving her behind him before she could make contact.

“You leaving me a trail to follow, Thornton?”

Holsten
. Thank heavens. She hadn’t even given the freighter a single thought in the midst of all that had happened. A shameful oversight she intended to rectify at once. She immediately offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving for his well-being.

Darius, too, relaxed and stepped aside. The moment he did, Nicole rushed forward. “Mr. Holsten, I’m so sorry for putting you in danger. Please forgive me.”

The man held up his hands and backed away as if afraid she’d try to hug him. “Crazy females, always apologizing for things when there’s no need,” he muttered. When she made no move to wrap her dripping arms around him he finally met her gaze. “I have to admit I don’t like stowaways, but I like men who threaten women even less.” He stroked his beard, his frown bringing lines to his brow. “The danger
don’t bother me none. I just wished I’d been better prepared for them yahoos when they showed up. Instead they caught me unawares. It’s a good thing they left my shotgun behind when they hightailed it, or I’d
really
be sore.”

He lifted his arm to bring the weapon in question into view. “Couldn’t find hide nor hair of your horse, though. The only other thing they left behind was this.” He extended his left hand toward Darius, but Nicole snatched the object from his palm first.

“Jacob’s knife.” A wide grin stretched across her face. “Oh, thank you! I would have felt terrible to have lost it after he so selflessly lent it to me.” Angling her side away from both men, she eased up the remains of her skirt and slid the blade into her garter sheath. A much easier task without all the petticoats in the way.

“Your woman carries a knife in her garter?” The freighter’s shocked question brought a blush to her cheeks.

Nicole shot an apologetic glance to Darius, but he just smiled.

“My woman’s a bit of a pirate.”

My woman
. The way he emphasized the phrase sent a flood of much needed warmth through her. She
was
his. And he was hers. Forever.

“Well, it looks like you both done walked the plank. Come on, then,” the freighter said with a wave of his arm, “I got blankets in the wagon and some spare duds. It ain’t much, but it’ll keep you dry ’til we can get you home. We’ll have to push the team to get to Oakhaven afore dark, but I reckon it’s doable if your man, here, can help me get my team out of the trees without tanglin’ the traces.”

Darius winked at her as he took her hand in his, the love
glowing in his eyes promising that together they could handle whatever the future threw at them. “I think I can manage.”

After extricating the wagon, Holsten untied the tarpaulin and pried the lid open on one of his crates. “Help yourself. The loggers won’t mind if you break in their new duds a bit for them. I’ll grab the blankets.”

Darius reached inside the crate and pulled out an assortment of denim trousers and flannel shirts. He unfolded them all, examined them, and then handed a set to Nicole. “These are the smallest ones of the bunch. You might have to tear off another strip from your dress to use as a belt, but they should keep you plenty warm.”

Nicole accepted the gift without complaint. Propriety paled next to practicality in this instance. She’d wear a strand of fig leaves if it meant getting warm. What she wouldn’t have given for a big tub of steaming water and a comb for her hair. But she’d settle for a drying blanket and a pair of denim britches.

Darius and Holsten turned their backs, and in minutes she’d peeled off what was left of her soggy garments and donned the masculine attire.

The shirt hung nearly to her knees, and she had to roll the trouser legs up to keep from stepping on them, but with a makeshift belt at her waist, the clothes kept her decently covered.

Well,
decent
might be debatable. Maman would probably faint dead away if she knew her daughter was wearing trousers. But since stripping off her clothing and wrapping up in a blanket was the only alternative, she figured her mother wouldn’t hold a pair of trousers against her.

O
nce he got Nicole to finally quit fussing over the flesh wound he’d already cleaned with some water from Holsten’s canteen, Darius handed her up into the wagon. He did his best not to pay attention to the way her borrowed britches accentuated the line of her legs and other . . . parts of her anatomy usually disguised by the bell shape of feminine skirts, but a man’s imagination was a difficult thing to stifle. Especially when the britches and parts in question sat snugly against his side during the entire ride to Oakhaven.

He needed to get his family to Texas so he could take this woman to wife. He’d write the letter tonight.

A smile creased his face as Holsten turned the team up the drive. Darius could just picture the fuss his mother would kick up when she learned of his intention to marry. She’d likely have the entire Thornton household packed and ready to board the first available ship by the end of the day. He might have inherited his father’s love of mechanics and business, but his tenacity came straight from his mother. If a mountain needed to be moved, everyone knew which Thornton to turn
to. If he posted the letter tomorrow, his family could be in Galveston in a matter of weeks.

“What has you smiling so wide, Mr. Thornton?” Nicole asked in a prim voice at odds with the twinkle in her eye.

Darius leaned close, nudging her shoulder with his arm. “I was thinking about how much I’m looking forward to introducing you to my family.”

Some of her lightheartedness dimmed. “Do you think they’ll be angry that I’m forcing you to stay in Texas? They haven’t seen you in nearly two years, and now I’m tying you to an enterprise that will keep you away even longer.”

“First off,” Darius said with a frown just dark enough to let her know how serious he was, “you’re not
forcing
me to stay in Texas. I’m choosing to do so of my own free will. And second”—here he bent close to whisper in her ear so Holsten wouldn’t overhear—“they will love you. It won’t take them long to see what I see—a woman who is loyal, courageous, determined, and in possession of a soul so beautiful and wise she can draw a man out of his nightmares and restore his dreams.”

Her eyes grew misty, shimmering with a joyous light. He wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and kiss her until they both forgot where they were. Unfortunately, their companion remembered well enough for all of them.

“If you two lovebirds are done cooin’ at each other,” Holsten grouched, “you might wanna take a gander at those folks pourin’ out of that fancy house up yonder. I think the boy’s gonna run us down afore I can get to the barn.”

Darius swiveled his head to see Jacob racing across the yard, leaving Wellborn and his wife to approach at a more sedate pace.

“You got her back!” Jacob sprinted up to the wagon, then
gave a happy little half skip as he came alongside the driver’s bench. “I knew you would. Yeehaw!” He slapped his palms together as he kept pace with Holsten’s team.

Darius grinned at the boy, then turned to share a quieter smile with the woman at his side. Such affection and camaraderie radiated from her as their eyes met that his heart gave its own little half skip.
Yeehaw,
indeed.

When Holsten finally brought the wagon to a halt at the barn, Wellborn was there, his controlled demeanor the antithesis of Jacob’s excited energy.

“Good to have you and Miss Nicole home, sir.” A wealth of meaning passed between them as Wellborn dipped his chin. Worry, relief, and myriad questions shone in his eyes, barely restrained by the decorum necessitated by his position.

Darius climbed down from the bench seat and extended a hand to Nicole. “Good to be home, Wellborn. Though we won’t be here for long.” Darius squeezed Nicole’s hand. “Miss Renard and I will leave first thing on the morrow for Galveston. It’s time I asked her father for her hand.” Among other things.

A lovely blush stole over Nicole’s cheeks, but Darius wasn’t given time to enjoy it, for his housekeeper swept in like a mother hen clucking over her chick. She wrapped a wing about Nicole’s shoulders, cooing words like
poor dear
and
trying ordeal,
all while successfully ushering her away from the men with promises of a hot bath and warm tea. Darius didn’t doubt Mrs. Wellborn’s desire to nurture and pamper his fiancée, but neither did he miss the way she tried to swirl her own skirts around Nicole’s legs as they walked, as if trying to hide the fact that her future mistress was wearing trousers.

A chuckle rumbled deep in Darius’s throat as he shook his
head. One would think the woman would be used to people wearing unconventional attire after running his household for so long. Heaven knew
he
hardly ever dressed properly. She’d probably take him to task for corrupting Nicole and letting her run around in men’s britches. But what did he care? As long as his little pirate was alive and well, she could run around in whatever she liked.

“How long will you be gone, sir?” Wellborn asked, breaking Darius away from the lovely image of Nicole romping around Oakhaven in her scandalous britches.

“I doubt we’ll be coming back.”

Jacob, who’d been helping Holsten water his horses, dropped his pail. The spilled water seeped into the hard ground at his feet. “Not c-coming back?”

Cursing his too-blunt tongue, Darius strode to Jacob’s side and hunkered down to face him eye-to-eye. “You’re coming with us, scamp. That is . . . if you want to.” He slid a quick glance back to his butler before continuing. “I’ve got to take Nicole down to see her family right away, but Wellborn will bring you to meet us in Galveston once he and Mrs. Wellborn get the house packed up. If you’re willing, Nicole and I would really like you to stay with us.”

The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed slowly up and down. He crossed his arms over his chest and peered off to the side. “I won’t be takin’ no charity, Mr. Thornton. If you ain’t got work for me, I’ll be movin’ on.”

Now it was Darius’s turn to swallow hard. The kid had become like family to him, to all of them. He wasn’t offering Jacob charity—he was offering him a home. But the boy wasn’t ready for that yet. Maybe he never would be. If a job would keep the kid around, keep him safe and provided for, Darius would see to it that there was always a position open.

“Not got work for you? Have you seen how much stuff I’ve got laying around in that house up there?” Darius jutted a thumb toward Oakhaven. “Wellborn’s going to need every extra hand he can get.”

“Quite correct.” His man nodded stiffly in confirmation.

“And when you get to Galveston, I’m going to need you more than ever. Nicole’s father wants me to take over his shipping company, and I need someone I can trust to help me watch out for Nicole. Jenkins lives in Galveston, too, remember? Even if he has the dagger, he might not be above starting more trouble. How will I know who is safe to have working in my house and who will turn traitor if Jenkins stirs things up again? No, I need you more than ever, Jake. Please say you’ll come with us.”

The boy glanced to the north, a pained look slanting over his features, as if Darius were asking him to sever his right arm in order to follow him to Galveston. But then his jaw firmed and his eyes heated with determination. “All right, Mr. T.” Jacob pivoted to face him squarely. “I’ll go.”

“Excellent.” Darius ruffled the boy’s hair and pushed to a standing position, doing his best not to allow the sigh of relief swelling in his chest to gush forth. He’d have to let Sheriff Davenport know about their move in case anyone came looking for the boy. Though, if no one had shown up by this time, the likelihood was slim that anyone would.

“Wellborn,” he said, turning his attention to his butler. “Pack a bag for me, will you? Miss Renard and I will be leaving for Galveston in the morning.”

His man nodded. “I’ll see to it at once, sir.”

“Oh, and Wellborn?” Darius called as the butler moved to leave. “Once your wife has Miss Renard situated, please ask her to put together a cold supper with plenty of hot coffee
and cookies to go around. I have a rather adventurous tale to share. If anyone would be interested in hearing the details.”

Jacob darted around Darius and grabbed his sleeve. “Can I come, too? ’Cause I want to hear
everything
.”

Darius grinned at him. “Of course, scamp. The whole family’s invited. You, the Wellborns, Nicole. If Mrs. Graham hasn’t already left for home, she can stay, too, though I figure she’ll probably just pry the details out of Mrs. Wellborn tomorrow.”

Darius couldn’t be sure if the boy had caught the reference to family, but judging by the sharpness in Wellborn’s gaze, his butler had. The man’s mouth opened and closed as if he had no idea how to respond to such a radical statement.

Finally his butler managed to push a string of words past his lips. “Would you prefer the dining room or the kitchen, sir?”

The servant’s domain or that of the master? Either had the potential for awkwardness. Darius met his butler’s eye the same way he had on the day of the explosion. Man-to-man, not master-to-servant. “What would
you
prefer, Wellborn?”

“I . . . I believe the kitchen.”

“Then the kitchen it will be. And speaking of kitchens . . .” Darius said, turning back to the freighter, who was watching the exchange with avid interest. “Jacob, why don’t you escort Mr. Holsten up to the house and scrounge up some refreshments for him? He’s traveled quite a distance out of his way to see Miss Renard and me safely home, and I’d like to express my gratitude. I’ll stay and finish tending the horses myself.”

Holsten began to protest, but Jacob grabbed his hand and started tugging him toward the house, chattering about the corn muffins and honey they’d had for breakfast as well as the leftover gingerbread no one had been in the mood to eat at noon. It wasn’t long before the freighter picked up his
pace enough that he was the one dragging Jake as Wellborn traipsed along behind.

When the trio disappeared into the house, Darius ducked into the barn and hefted two sacks of his best oats onto his shoulders. Holsten was too prickly to accept payment for the help he’d offered—he saw it strictly as his neighborly duty—but Darius wasn’t about to let such a good deed go unappreciated. Without Holsten, he might never have found Nicole at all, and even if he had, without a horse or dry clothing for their return to Oakhaven, they both surely would have taken ill.

Darius slipped the sacks under the tarpaulin and pushed them back behind the crates Holsten was carting on to the logging camp. He’d not find the oats until he unloaded tomorrow, when it would be too late to protest. Darius grinned as he straightened the canvas covering and strode back up to the horses’ heads.

He’d successfully navigated Jake’s reluctance, Wellborn’s deference, and even Holsten’s pride. Now all he had to do was find a way to deflect an ambitious man’s disappointment from his daughter onto himself without undermining his own credibility as a worthy heir for the Renard Shipping Company. Only the happiness of the woman he loved, and therefore his own heart, hung in the balance.

Darius groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. Why couldn’t it be something easy like dodging scalding-hot water bursts and barrages of metal shards? At least then he could protect her with his body. But protecting her with words . . . ? He shook his head. God help them both.