Conspiring with a Rogue (41 page)

Death.

The thought struck a loud chord that vibrated through him. He wasn’t ready to die. Not before telling Whitney one last time how much he loved her.

He fumbled with his boots, at last managing to yank them off. They dropped away like a lead weight. Summoning all the energy he had left, he kicked his legs and swung his arms wide through the water, wincing at the pain that slithered from his right shoulder to his abdomen. Surging toward what he prayed was the surface, he cried out with relief when his head broke the smooth plane of water and stale air flooded into his lungs.

God, he’d never been so happy to smell garbage in his life. He took greedy gulps of the stinking air, until he no longer thought he might pass out. “Whitney!” he yelled, turning toward the left and then the right.
Curse the endless darkness
.

“
Whitney!” he yelled again, fighting against the fear trying to strangle him and leave him unable to talk. Voices answered his call from the embankment, but not hers. None of them were hers. Why didn’t they shut the hell up?

“
Shut up!” he yelled savagely, swimming around in circles, unsure which way to look. He could not lose her. “Whitney!” His voice broke on the guttural cry that tore from his throat and sent shards of pain exploding in his head and ripping a path through his insides.

Up ahead, a sliver of light caught on something floating in the water and he surged toward it with a powerful kick. Was that Whitney? He squinted into the darkness, almost afraid his mind was playing tricks on him. Swimming closer, he saw her, the little hellion who’d taken him to heaven, hell and back again to heaven.

“
Drake,” Whitney called. “Drake!”

“
I’m coming.” His throat worked violently to contain his emotions. In five long strokes he was before her, an intense tremor of relief making it hard for him to maintain his tread above water. He put a hand on the log she was grasping, and with the other, he crushed her to him, wincing at the pain in his shoulder.

For a moment, he held still, not talking, just holding her and assuring himself she was alive. She trembled in his arms as he frantically delved his hands into her hair, over her face, and finally skimming each arm. “Are you hurt?”

“
No, just stunned from the fall and the cold.”

“
I love you.” He swiped at the suddenly hot water on his face.

She rubbed a hand over his cheek. “I love you, too.”

He buried his head against her wet hair and slick neck. He inhaled deeply, the trembling of his jaw finally subsiding. “Then everything’s going to be all right.” When she didn’t agree, he nudged her under her chin, determined to make a start at setting straight whatever had driven her from him in the first place. “Trust me. Whatever it is, we can get through it.”

“
By helping each other?” Her voice held such longing, desire strummed through his loins.

“
I’ll help
you,
Kitten, and you can help me by kicking toward the shore.”

“
Do not ever call me Kitten again.” Her teeth chattered in time with their kicking. She was probably cold and scared to death. He wrapped one arm around her small body, while his other arm held fast to the log. He kicked his legs wide to propel them toward the bank.

“
Consider yourself fiercer than a kitten, do you?” he joked, hoping to take her mind off the cold.

“
Lord C―C—Cadogan called me Kitten,” she blurted, shuddering violently beside him.

“
Say no more,” Drake soothed, though his blood boiled with fury. As soon as he reached land, he was going to kill Cadogan if Rutherford had not already done the deed. Up ahead, Rutherford’s face appeared outlined above a flaming torch. Anger seared through Drake.
Damned Rutherford
. His rashness in shooting Cadogan had almost cost Whitney her life.

What if Drake had found her dead? What if she had never regained the surface after her fall and drowned? What if she had hit a rock or this log? His fury rose with each question. When his feet squished into the slimy bottom of the embankment, he released the log and scooped Whitney up into his arms.

Water sluiced over them both, and they shivered as one, holding each other as he walked with difficulty toward the shore. He held her close, his progress slowed by the river mud sucking at his legs with each step. Although his strength was deserting him at an alarming rate, he was afraid to ever let her go again. His heart hammered wildly as he stumbled toward the edge of the water. His legs shook, his head roared. He could have lost her. He pressed a hand over her head, wincing at the snaking pain in his shoulder as he moved it.

Rutherford came rushing toward them. Saint Augustine, Lillian, and several sailors trailed behind the man. “Let me help you.” Rutherford splashed through the water and reached out to take Whitney.

Drake twisted his body away, his fear of releasing Whitney ricocheting through him. “I don’t need your help,” he said, but even as the words left his lips his body swayed, and his head reeled with a pounding so intense that nausea gripped him. He took a step, stumbled to one knee, and barely maintained his hold on Whitney. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his injured arm, sending sparks of white-hot pain throughout the limb. He hissed in air between his clenched teeth.

“
Drake.” Her appalled whisper reached his ears. “Release me. You’re injured and need help.”

“
I don’t need anyone’s help,” he growled at the concerned faces coming toward him. The faces surrounding him reminded him all too much of the pitying faces of the people who used to pass him and his father as they begged for handouts on the streets day after day. He shuddered violently at the memory.

“
I don’t need help now or ever.” He raised his heavy arm and tugged at his collar. The air lay over him like a thick, hot blanket. No one seemed to hear him. Whitney stood above him and her body rocked gently back and forth. When had he released her? Drake blinked his eyes but could not seem to clear the blurriness. Rutherford leaned over him and said something Drake couldn’t understand. Rough hands came under his arms and pulled at him.

He cursed his weakness as the weight of his own body became too much to maintain upright.

Whitney couldn’t breathe properly as Drake’s carriage raced down the dark streets of London toward his home. His head lay in her lap, his eyes closed. “He’s dying,” she whispered, fear beating a rapid drum in her ears.

“
He can’t die,” Lillian argued from across the carriage. “He loves you too much. He’s going to live, and the minute he opens his eyes you have to tell him the truth of why you ran away.”

“
Lil, please.” Whitney cut her gaze at Sin, who sat beside her. She didn’t want to be too harsh with Lillian after everything she had been through, but she didn’t want Lillian to blurt the truth for Sin to hear either.

“
Don’t ‘please’ me,” Lillian snapped, her eyes flashing.

Sin slipped off the seat beside her and moved to Lillian’s side. “Tell me everything, Lillian.”

“
Lillian.” Whitney kept her voice low in case Drake could hear things in his sleep. “Don’t you dare.”

Lillian crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s past time you saw reason, and it may just take a firm hand to guide you there.”

Sin nodded. “I’ve a firm hand.”

“
If you say a word, Lillian, I’ll never speak to you again.” Whitney’s heart hammered so hard she was having trouble speaking without her voice shaking.

Sin, the scoundrel, turned Lillian’s face to his. “Ignore her threats, Lillian. Her anger never lasts. You know that.”

Lillian smiled dreamily into Sin’s eyes. “I do.” She threw Whitney an apologetic smile. “Whitney ran away because Mrs. Blightson threatened to financially ruin Drake, so Whitney offered a bargain to stop her.”

Whitney groaned and sat back. There was no stopping this disaster now. The best she could hope for was that Sin would miraculously not interfere in her life. As Lillian told Sin everything about the threat and Whitney’s offer to Mrs. Blightson, Whitney stared down at Drake and prayed he would be all right. Sin had assured her Drake’s wound was superficial, though how her cousin knew so much about bullet wounds escaped her. If Drake’s wound was superficial, why was he drifting in and out of consciousness?

She ran her finger over his square jawline, the stubble from his whiskers tickling her skin. She inhaled a shaky breath. She burned to tell Drake the truth, had decided to, but how could she, knowing he would rather die than accept help from anyone? What was she going to do?

Her mind raced over the possibilities. She discarded them as rapidly as she thought of them. The desire to cry turned the ache in her throat into a fierce throbbing. Afraid she was about to lose control, she dug her nails into her palm to keep from whimpering and concentrated on the rapid clopping of the horses’ hooves against the street.

Drake moaned in his sleep, and she bent over him and pressed a kiss to his hot forehead. When she sat up, Sin’s gaze was narrowed on her. “You should’ve told me about Mrs. Blightson. I could’ve helped you and saved you and Sutherland from all the misery your actions have caused both of you.”

Whitney opened her mouth to protest, but Sin held up his hand. He stared at her, as if he was trying to decide what to say. He tapped on his leg, then suddenly stopped. In a flash, he was sitting beside her once again. “I met a woman when I was in Paris named Gwyneth,” he said in a low voice.

Whitney stared curiously at her normally emotionless cousin. He had gone to Paris a warm, loving man and returned distant, detached and unreachable. As far as she could recall, he hadn’t truly participated in life with any gusto since his return a year ago. “Go on,” she encouraged.

“
I thought I was protecting Gwyneth from me, from what loving me would do to her.”

“
I don’t understand.”

Sin waved a hand in the air. “The details aren’t important,” he said so quietly she had to strain to hear. “Suffice it to say, I thought she was better off without me, that loving me would hurt her. I was purposely cruel to push her away.” He gripped his knees, bunching the material of his trousers. “I pushed her, all right. I pushed her so hard that she killed herself after I left.” He breathed out a hard puff of air and swallowed audibly. Whitney had never heard her cousin sound so bleak. “She threw herself off a bridge,” he whispered.

Whitney drew in a sympathetic breath, and Lillian gasped across the carriage. Surely, Sin did not think—Whitney clutched at his hand. “Oh, Sin, I’m so sorry, but Drake—Drake would never do that.”

“
Not literally, but without you, he’ll think he might as well be dead.”

“
You don’t understand.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

“
I do understand, damn you. You think you’re a burden, and you are. You think the only way to save that obstinate man is for you to run again, but it’s not the only solution.” Sin grabbed her by the chin. “Open your eyes.”

She did, blinking back tears, her gaze wandering to Drake’s pale face. His eyes moved rapidly behind his lids, his eyelashes fluttered. She glanced up at her cousin, desperate to quiet him before Drake awoke. “Sin, please, let’s discuss this later.”

Sin scowled at her. “Quit lying to him. You’re a burden because you’re unwilling to trust in Drake’s love. He’ll be more unhappy without you than he could ever be with you. God help him.”

“
It’s not that simple,” she hissed. “If Drake stays with me, he’ll lose everything he’s worked for, all of his money, his business.”

Sin’s lips compressed with obvious impatience. “Wouldn’t you stay with him even if it meant you would lose every possession you owned?”

“
I’d stay with him even if I had to sleep under the stars on the dirt. I love him desperately. Nothing, absolutely nothing, will ever make me stop wanting—” She stopped abruptly, understanding what Sin was trying to say.

“
Give him the chance to make the choice,” Sin urged. “He will choose you, Whitty. He’s not like your mother.”

She recoiled at Sin’s words. “Stop it,” she hissed, not wanting to think on her mother. Miraculously, Sin was quiet, but her own thoughts tumbled forth as if they were water released by a busted dam. She was helpless to stop the onslaught of memories. Her mother could have chosen to spirit away her two daughters with her, but she planned to leave them behind. A sharp pain of loss twisted through her. Reflexively, she curled her fingers around Drake’s solid arm, and he stirred.