Honeymoon from Hell IV (6 page)

“She stays,” Noah said firmly as though
his word was law.

Shaun seconded it with a firm nod that
earned them both a subtle shake and a reminder of who they were
dealing with. He might love his children more than his own life and
do whatever it took to keep them safe and happy, but not at their
mother’s expense and they knew it. She needed a break from this
chaos and he was going to make sure that she got it.

“Fine!”
Noah growled even as he reached over, grabbed onto his
mother’s shoulders, used his hold on her so that he could kiss her
cheek. With that done, his brother followed suit, Robert placed
them both on their feet, ruffled their hair and just because he had
a soft spot for his boys, he slipped them each a penny to buy
sweets while they were gone.

“We’ll be back in a week,” he told the
boys as his eyes locked on his beautiful wife, who was already
starting to fret over leaving the boys.

“Yeah, see you in a week!” Noah yelled
excitedly as he raced for the door, his brother hot on his heels,
apparently forgetting all about them as they raced towards the
sounds of Mrs. Brown in the kitchen, whom they would probably
pester until she gave in, stopped what she was doing and brought
them to town so that they could buy their fill of
sweets.

As he watched his boys, who were
technically still babies, run out of the room to hunt down Mrs.
Brown, he shoved the terror aside and told himself that the fact
that they looked closer to three years old and acted like they were
ten years old didn’t frighten him.

Nope, not at all.

“They’re fine,” Elizabeth said with a
reassuring smile, no doubt reading the worry on his face and
knowing exactly what was bothering him.

“I know,” he said, smiling fondly down
at his wife, deciding that it was easier to believe that everything
was going to be okay than to worry that there was something wrong
with his sons.

“According to your mother, you were a
big boy, too,” Elizabeth reminded him with a teasing smile, the
same one that had the power to instantly soothe the panic that
threatened to take over and knock him on his ass. “They’re fine,”
she reassured him with a smile as she reached up and ran her
fingers through his hair, gently cupping the back of his head and
she leaned up and kissed him. “They’re fine,” she repeated, knowing
exactly what he needed to hear.

Less than a year old and they could eat
almost as much as him. Thank God he’d managed to put extra food
away this winter and as well as some extra money otherwise they
would have been in a lot of trouble. Next year he was going to have
to double the amount of food he-

Elizabeth ran her fingers through his
hair as she smiled against his lips. “We’ll be fine. Stop worrying
so much.”

“It’s my job to worry,” he reminded her
with a wink as he cupped her face in his hand and brushed his lips
against hers one last time, so temped to say the hell with Boston
and spend the next week in bed, finding new and interesting ways to
make her moan his name.

“No,” she said, brushing her lips
against his, “it’s not.”

It was, but he wasn’t going to stand
here, wasting time arguing about something that didn’t matter. She
was his responsibility, his heart, his soul and he would be
absolutely lost without her.

“We’re going to miss the coach,” he
said, trying to pretend that it didn’t kill him that he couldn’t
afford to bring his wife up to Boston in a private coach and do
this the right way, the way that she deserved, but they couldn’t
take the poor excuse that they had for a coach, not when Mrs. Brown
and the boys might need it while they were out of town.

He’d make this up to her, he decided as
he allowed himself one last kiss.

“Are you sure that we should be going?”
she asked hesitantly, but he didn’t miss the excited quiver in her
voice or point out the fact that she’d clearly hit exhaustion
yesterday and needed to get out of the house almost as badly as he
needed to show her that she hadn’t made a mistake in choosing
him.

“Absolutely,” he said firmly, eager to
show her that she may not have married a rich man, but she had
married the right one.

Chapter 5

“Robert, are you okay?” she foolishly
asked when it was clear that he wasn’t.

He opened his mouth, thought better of
it, continued to squeeze his eyes shut and nodded his head as the
back of his knuckles turned pale white from the grip that he had on
the rickety old bench that seemed to be going out of its way to
jostle poor Robert every other second as the stage coach slowed as
it made its way north.

“Are you sure?” she asked quietly as
she laid one of her hands over his, nearly yanking it back seconds
later when she realized how hot it was.

He felt like he was on fire and judging
by the pained expression on his face and the fact that his normally
handsome tan face had leeched of color, she didn’t think that it
would be too long before the other passengers cowering in the
corners away from him would figure out that he was sick
and-

“He’s sick! Pull over!” John, a large
beefy farmer who’d been staring at her cleavage for the past hour
suddenly screeched, emphasizing his panic by pounding one meaty
fist against the wall of the coach until the coachman finally had
enough and pulled the coach to a stop.

The coach had barely had a chance to
come to a complete stop when the five other passengers leapt from
the carriage in a desperate attempt to get away from Robert and
whatever disease they feared he carried. She opened her mouth to
chastise them and tell them that they were acting foolish when
Robert mumbled, “Oh, no,” shoved the small door on his side of the
carriage open and stumbled out of the carriage where he soon fell
to his hands and knees and lost the blueberry turnovers that he’d
bought at the Inn while they’d waited for the coach to
arrive.

Not knowing what else to do, she
followed after Robert and knelt down by his side while he continued
to cough and his large body trembled. She put her hand on his back
to offer his some comfort and nearly swore when she realized that
his jacket was soaked through with sweat and that he was trembling.
So, when the coach unceremoniously continued its journey to Boston,
she didn’t say anything, because she knew there was nothing that
she could say to any of them that would change their minds so she
didn’t. She simply knelt by her husband, rubbing his sweat soaked
back while the carriage pulled away, rocking noisily while she
knelt there, trying to figure out what they should do.

“Kill. Me,” Robert groaned, apparently
deciding on a course of action as he shoved himself away from what
had once been his breakfast and curled up on the rock infested dirt
road, closed his eyes and waited for death to come for
him.

Ignoring his plea for a quick death,
she contemplated their options as she asked, “What did she make
you?”

“Beef stew and some brown bread,” he
muttered with a pathetic groan as he curled up into a tighter ball,
squeezed his eyes shut tightly as his handsome face took on a
rather frightening shade of gray.

“Beef stew?” she asked hollowly,
because if there was one thing that everyone in town knew about
Mrs. Kinnley, besides the fact that she couldn’t cook to save her
life, it was that the only thing that she cooked was mutton and
that was only if she could get a good price for it, which meant
that she usually waited to buy her meat when it was mere minutes
from being thrown away.

“Yeah,” Robert groaned in agreement as
he rolled over onto his side with a grunt, dug his fingers into the
packed dirt marked by coach wheels, hooves and…

Well, she really didn’t want to think
about what else the horses had left behind since her husband was
now rolling around in it. Rubbing her hands roughly down her face
as she tried not to think of a lot of things, but there was just
one thing that she couldn’t let go.

“Robert?” she said, trying to figure
out the best way to ask this without getting an answer that would
terrify her.

“Hmm?” he managed to ask as he rolled
over, groaning loudly and making a big show out of
dying.

“You do realize that Mrs. Kinnely only
cooks mutton, right?”

A groan.

“And you know that she only cooks one
pot of mutton stew, usually the first of the month and she keeps it
until it’s gone,” she slowly reminded him, something that he really
should have remembered this morning before he did the
unthinkable.

Another groan.

“It’s the twenty-fifth,” she pointed
out slowly, waiting for comprehension to hit and when it did,
Robert swore, rolled over and-

Made her wince as he finished getting
sick and ridding his body of the rest of the “stew” that he’d eaten
this morning. Well, at least that explained the green, fuzzy stuff,
she thought, turning her head as she felt her stomach threaten to
lurch.

“Shit
,” he grumbled as he rolled back over, a safe distance away
from the mess he’d just made and commenced with mumbling for God to
spare him so that his children wouldn’t have to grow up without him
and that his wife wouldn’t be forced to go on without him, probably
never finding a man half as wonderful as him. She missed most of
it, but what she did catch had her rolling her eyes and taking
another look around, trying to figure out what she was going to do
with him.

Since trying to bring him to Boston was
probably pointless now, that only left her with one option. She
needed to find a way to drag her incredibly heavy husband back the
way they came and she needed to figure out a way to do it without
any money, she realized as she slowly turned around and watched the
mail coach finally disappear down the long lane and through the
woods along with their bags, her purse and Robert’s coat where he
always kept his billfold.

At least she wouldn’t have to figure
out how they were going to afford to feed Robert on the trip home,
she told herself, trying to find the bright side of things, but of
course that was the moment when Robert chose to roll over once
again and leave another puddle of-

Well, it wasn’t important what was
coming out of him just as long as it was coming out, she decided as
she waited for him to stop dry heaving. Pulling her bottom lip
between her teeth, she reached down to run her fingers over the
familiar metal case that she carried everywhere only to remember
that she’d left her reticle in the coach, the same coach that was
even now trying to put as much distance between them before
nightfall as fast as their team of horses could take
them.

“Oh, God,” she mumbled, swallowing hard
as she felt her heart sink.

She started to take a step towards the
coach, unable to help herself when the pained groan stopped her.
Biting back the tears, she clenched her jaw shut tightly,
struggling not to cry as she forced herself to stay there when all
she wanted to do was grab her skirts and run after that coach
before it was too late and the most precious thing in the world to
her was gone forever.

But, she knew that no matter how fast
she ran, how loud she screamed, that the coach was never going to
stop for her.

It was gone.

Two of the most precious moments of her
life were gone forever and there was nothing that she could do
about it except stand there and let them go.

*-*-*-*

“Son of a bitch,” he moaned miserably,
closing his eyes as he willed the damn cramping to stop sending
shooting pain throughout his stomach when he saw the look on his
wife’s face when she reached down to run her fingers over the
silver case that she carried everywhere only to end up curling her
fingers into a fist and releasing a small whimper when she realized
that the portrait case that matched his own was gone.

He couldn’t allow that to happen, he
couldn’t allow her to lose something that brought her peace and
made her smile every time she brushed her fingers over the smooth
metal case that their families had commissioned as a belated
wedding gift for them. It was the one thing in the world that she
cherished and couldn’t seem to go five minutes without touching. It
was something that he found sweet and endearing and he’d be damned
if he was going to lose seeing that every day.

“Shit
,” he groaned, pressing his hand tightly to his stomach as he
rolled over and forced his trembling legs to work as he clumsily
pushed himself up onto his feet and stumbled past Elizabeth, who
stood there looking absolutely devastated.

“Robert?” she asked, her voice breaking
as she absently reached up with a shaky hand and wiped away the
tears rolling down her face, trying to pretend that her heart
wasn’t breaking and making him more determined than ever to do
this.

“I’m fine,” he ground out, pressing his
hand firmly against his stomach and threatening to feed it only
chicken broth for the rest of his life if it didn’t calm down long
enough so that he could go hunt that coach down and get the small
portrait of the boys that Elizabeth loved so much back for his
wife.

With his free hand, he absently reached
into the matching metal case that he carried everywhere with him,
needing the comfort that it normally gave him when he thought he
was too tired or sore to keep going. The metal case held everything
dear to him in this world and he’d be damned if he gave that up
without a fight. Desperation and fear that they would lose the
precious trinkets forever, he gritted his teeth, pressed his hand
against his stomach harder and-