A Risk Worth Taking (21 page)

T
he storm tossed the ship over the water like a little toy boat. Each angry wave smashed against the hull like a battering ram. Water came at him from every direction, and with each assault, Griff felt a fear unlike any he’d ever known before. He’d been in his share of storms, but this was by far the worst.

He made his way to the wheelhouse, hanging on to anything fastened down. One violent wave after another slammed against him, threatening to throw him into the watery brine.

“Blackmoor! Is that you?” the captain’s voice bellowed through the roaring winds.

Griff grabbed on to the railing and made his way across the slippery deck to where Captain Morton struggled with the wheel. “Yes, Captain. It’s me.”

“I need your help. I’ve given the order to abandon ship. Alert all the cabins in your section and bring your wife and son on deck. We’re putting the passengers in lifeboats.”

“Is it that bad? I thought the winds showed signs of letting up.”

The captain paused. “They are, but we’re taking on water. A huge hole, starboard side.”

Griff took a deep breath. The ship was going down. His thoughts raced to Julia. He had to get to her and Andrew. It was his fault they were here. He’d forced her to come with him even though she was terrified of sailing.

“How
much time do we have?”

“My guess is about an hour. We’ll wait as long as we can to lower the boats and hope the wind dies down even more.”

Griff nodded his understanding, then hugged the railing as he made his way back to the hatch that would take him below. Unrelenting rain pummeled his face and body, stinging his flesh. He stumbled down the stairs, then pounded on each door to order the passengers to go topside.

When he reached the cabin across from his own, he pounded on the Dowager Countess of Marchon’s door and warned her and her maid to gather their wraps and go on deck. Then he stumbled across the hall to his own cabin and threw open the door.

The sight of his wife huddled in the corner, clutching little Andrew so tightly the lad could barely breathe, tore his heart from his chest. Wide-eyed terror flashed from her beautiful blue eyes. Her purple lips trembled violently and her whole body shuddered with near uncontrollable fright.

“Julia. Come here. We have to go on top.”

“No!” She clutched Andrew closer and burrowed farther into the corner.

Griff staggered over to them and pulled his wife’s stiff arms from around their son. “Everything will be all right, sweetheart. We just need to go up on deck. The captain has another boat for us.”

“No! I won’t go up there. We’ll be washed overboard.”

“No, we won’t. I’ll be with you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“No!”

Griff didn’t give her time to argue. He threw a blanket over two-year-old Andrew to protect him, then wrapped an arm around his wife. He forced her across the room and out the door.

She fought him every step of the way, but finally they made their way to where the crewmen were lining passengers to board the lifeboats.

“Is everyone up from your area, Mr. Blackmoor?” the captain yelled.

Griff looked around and saw everyone from their section of the ship except the dowager countess and her maid.

“No! The dowager countess.”

“I can’t spare anyone to get her,” the captain shouted. “The men are busy with the lifeboats.”

Griff had no choice. “I’ll go.”

“No!” Julia screamed, digging her fingers into his flesh. “Don’t leave me, Griff. You promised.”

“I’ll be right back, Julia. I have to get the countess. She can barely walk.”

“Griff! Don’t leave me!”

Griff placed Julia over by the railing where one of the stewards was lining up passengers. “Stay right here, Julia!” he ordered, kissing little Andrew then handing him to her.

“I’m afraid, Griff! I want to go home.”

“I know.” He held her and Andrew close for a moment. “We’ll be home soon.”

She was terrified. He saw the panic in her eyes, heard it in her voice. She had an irrational fear of the water. The whole trip had been agony for her. He swore when they reached England, he would never ask her to step foot on another ship again.

“Don’t leave this spot, Julia. I’m going to get the countess and I’ll be right back.”

“No, Griff! Don’t leave me!”

“I’ll just be gone a minute. Stay right here. You’ll be safe.” He took a step away then turned back to her. “I love you, Julia. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Griff found the dowager countess and her maid halfway up the narrow stairs.

The moment they stepped on deck, a loud explosion shattered the air. The ship shuddered, and splinters of wood rained down on them. They were going under!

With renewed determination, he led the dowager and her maid to where the last of the passengers were loading. He handed them over to the captain, then turned to get Julia and Andrew. The spot where he’d left them was empty.

“Where’s my wife and son?” Griff yelled at the captain.

“I don’t know, sir. I haven’t seen them since you left.”

Griff bolted for the passageway that would take him below. He knew she’d gone back to hide.

“Julia!” he screamed.

Griff tried to make his way to the stairs, but with the ship tilting at such an angle he couldn’t make any headway. They were going under!

“Julia! Come here!”

“Griff! Help me!”

“Julia! Come here!”

“Help me,” she cried again, but it wasn’t Julia’s voice he heard. It was Anne’s.

“Help me, Griff!”

“Anne!”

Griff heard another loud boom, then looked up as a huge section of one of the yardarms crashed down on him and everything went black.

Griff woke with a start and bolted from the bed. His legs trembled beneath him and he grabbed onto the poster at the foot of the bed to keep from falling.

He couldn’t breathe. He gasped for air but still felt the panicky suffocation of Anne’s cries while the water rushed in around them. He swiped his hand over his face, then reached for a towel and wiped away the chilling sweat that covered every inch of his body.

It was a nightmare. The same nightmare as before, only this time it wasn’t Julia, but Anne who was drowning. And he couldn’t save her.

Griff pitched the towel angrily to the floor, then walked to the other side of the room. He threw open the window and stood in the darkness to let the cool night air wash over him.

When would the nightmares end? How long would he be tormented by Julia’s death? By Andrew’s?

Griff tried to come to grips with the turn his life had taken. He tried to tell himself that he wouldn’t be responsible for another person’s death, but he nearly had been. Anne had nearly been run down because of her association with him.

Griff reached for a glass of water to wash away the bitter taste of fear. He threw the liquid down his throat, then smashed the glass in the lifeless fireplace. He wanted a drink. He wanted to find a bottle of brandy and lose himself in the fiery liquid.

He looked at the decanter of cool, clear water. Water couldn’t drown out Julia’s and Andrew’s last cries for help. Water wouldn’t give him the courage to say the vows that would make Anne his wife. Water couldn’t make him pretend that marrying him wouldn’t put Anne in danger.

He didn’t want a wife. He couldn’t protect a wife. With Anne, the risk was even greater. Someone had already tried
to harm her and they would try again. And again. Until they succeeded.

He dragged his hand over the day-old stubble on his jaw. He knew what Anne expected from a marriage, what every new bride expected. He couldn’t give it to her. He couldn’t be a loving husband to her until he was sure she was out of danger. He couldn’t give her a child until he knew he could keep it safe.

He clenched his hands until his fingers ached. She would be his to protect, watch over, and keep safe. His to make sure she came to no harm from whoever wanted him dead. But he couldn’t keep her safe. Just like he hadn’t been able to keep Julia and Andrew safe.

Gnarled fingers of dread clamped around his heart and squeezed until he wanted to cry out in pain. He couldn’t live with the death of one more person he loved.

He walked back to the open window and let the cool air wash over him. He stared into the darkness and prayed he’d see an answer to the problems he faced, an easing of the fears that plagued him. What he saw, however, was something more frightening.

His gaze focused on a movement in the shadows across the street. Someone was there. Someone was watching his house, waiting for him.

He would end this here. Now!

He grabbed the clothes that lay across the chair and dressed as quickly as he could. He pulled on his boots and grabbed the pistol he kept in the drawer in the table by his bed, then raced out the door.

Griff walked down the street at a slow, steady pace. He kept his body in plain sight so he would be an easy target.

With each footstep his litany was that the man following him was the killer, and that he would finish this game he was playing before Anne was hurt—or worse.

Griff wasn’t sure how long he’d walked, but he knew it had been an hour or more. The sun was beginning its ascent. The golden orb blended muted shades of pinks and purples and blues and oranges together in unequaled perfection. The hour was perfect for an assassination. It was light enough now for the killer to see him clearly. Light enough for Griff to recognize the killer and finally know who wanted him dead.

Suddenly the hair on the back of Griff’s neck stood out in warning. He was close. Griff could feel him. Something moved to his left.

Griff ran after him. He caught a glimpse once, then nothing. He raced faster but had to stop when he lost him.

Griff stood still, listening. He concentrated on the quiet sounds around him. He heard nothing but the soft clopping of his own boots against the cobblestoned streets. But the killer was still there. Watching. Griff could feel him.

Do it. Dear God, let it be over.

He continued his way down the street. His heart thundered in his chest. His mind raced like a wild man’s. He knew to any passing stranger he’d appear a demented creature, but he didn’t care. He only wanted it over.

Do it!

He neared Adam’s town house. How he’d gotten there he didn’t know, but the tree- and shrub-lined walk came closer. Only a few more feet and he would no longer be in the open. Only a few more feet and the killer would not have a clear shot. Griff slowed, then stopped.

Do
it!

Nothing happened. No gunshot exploded in the air. No bullet slammed into his body.

Griff uttered a vile curse, then braced his hands against the shiny, black iron gate that surrounded Adam’s town house. After several minutes, he lifted his gaze.

A curtain at the front window moved. He’d been spotted, but he didn’t want to go in. He would wake the household, and this was hardly the hour to cause a scene. Everyone was most likely resting for what promised to be a very long, exhausting day.

Today was the day he and Anne would marry.

Griff turned, then followed the path that would take him back to his town house. His feet moved as if his boots were lined with lead. Yet he was desperate to distance himself from her. He needed time to convince himself that he could do this.

He needed a drink.

He made his way down the street, past a row of fancy town houses, then through the working section of London. Past a milliner and a boot maker, then a bakery, and finally an ale house. He stopped. Just one drink. He only needed one.

He tried the door. It was locked.

He pounded until the proprietor appeared.

All he wanted was a bottle. Just one.

T
here was a great commotion at the front of the house, and Griff looked up. The sound of Adam’s thunderous voice echoed in the foyer. His heavy boots thudded across the marble floor as he marched toward the study. Adam threw open the door, then stopped short when he saw him.

Griff looked down at the full glass of brandy cradled in his hands.

“Not today, Griff,” Adam whispered. “It’s her wedding day. Give her at least today.”

Griff took in his brother’s disheveled appearance. “You look like hell,” he said. “Hardly the customary look for a member of the
ton
.” Adam’s clothes were askew, his hair uncombed, and his boots did not match. He looked so out of character, so unlike the earl, that Griff wanted to laugh.

“I dressed in a hurry.”

Griff smiled. “I saw Fenwick at the window and knew he would go for you.”

“He waited for you to knock.” Adam walked across the room and sat in the chair opposite Griff. “He said you left without coming up the walk. He thought perhaps whatever got you out at such an hour might have been important.”