She bucked again, tried to dislodge the man. She had to run. She had to get help.
She saw his fist coming. She tried to dodge the blow. She was too late for that too.
Her vision swam with tears and the vibrant colours of the roadside trees faded as the pain in her head threatened to overwhelm her. Icy hands reached for her, dragged her down as she rolled and tried to get to her feet. A strange heaviness settled over her as she reached a hand out, as she tried to crawl away.
She was all they had. She had to protect them.
Strength abandoned her at the same time the landscape darkened completely and her arms gave out. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she lay her face against the snowy ground, her head heavy, her eyelids closing.
Her heartbeat was her only companion as she lost consciousness, alone in the dark.
Alone, alone, alone, it beat until she shut it all out and let go.
*
Just like life aboard a pirate ship, or any ship for that matter, the fight would not be determined by numbers on this day. But Darius was torn. He was torn between tearing off after Eliza and finding a solution for Sarah. He couldn’t take her with him but neither could he leave her behind.
“Right,” he said after making an agonising decision. “We’re going to split into two groups. Half are to go on in the carriage and take Sarah, the other half will come with me to get Eliza and those children back.”
As he’d suspected would happen, all the men moved to his side leaving only Tarquin holding the squirming infant.
Darius shook his head. “You can’t all come with me. I’ll need men to ready the ship and apprise Marcus of the situation once you get there.” He reeled off a dozen names and told those men to go. Now. “Don’t stop for anyone or anything. If we don’t meet up with the ship by dawn on the fourth day, you are to leave. Set sail and don’t come back with that baby on board.”
Tarquin had genuine fear in his eyes as he approached. “We aren’t leaving without you, Captain. Get your lady and get your arse back on your ship.”
He smiled and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I’ll do my best.” Peering down at Sarah, a little smile on her chubby face, her tiny fingers waving around, Darius bent and kissed the soft skin of her forehead. She was his blood. The only real family he could lay claim to and if he botched it all up with Eliza, or he was indeed too late, he had to have Sarah to return to.
He’d never needed a family, children, or even a pet dog in his life. He had his friends and his crew and his life aboard ship. Not until the day he’d met Eliza had he known how much he had been missing. Now that he finally realised it, his family had been taken away from him and he had been about to let them all go. It would be the single biggest mistake of his life to date.
Sarah gurgled and wrapped a hand around his fingers. There was a part of his soul that screamed at him to throw it all at saving Eliza and her siblings, to only stop if he was dead. It was how he had always dealt with a battle. He’d survived many a time by sheer recklessness. But now there was also a part of him hissing caution. Sarah would need him more than ever once they reached America’s shores. He had a feeling he needed her just as much. “Guard her with your life, my friend.”
“To my very last breath if need be,” Tarquin promised.
Once the details were sorted and the horses readied, Darius gave the command to move out. The carriage would leave a little while after the riders so as not to draw any further attention. His first order of business this day was to locate his brother and get some answers.
Then he was going to do what he should have done from the very beginning. He was going to kill the man who had sired him, the man who continuously destroyed any chances he’d ever had or was ever going to get at being accepted, of being happy, of being whole.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Harold Meddington, next in line to an earldom, rake about town and loved by women everywhere, fidgeted restlessly against the bonds that held him. His nose ached and each time he moved his lips, he felt the bones just below his eyes crunch against each other. He had a cut that ran from his jaw all the way down his chest and he thought perhaps the fingers on one of his hands were broken into a thousand pieces—such was the agony if he so much as twitched.
This was what he expected of Mr Smith and his men. He would have expected Tobias and Jackson to pummel him to a bloody pulp and then leave him for dead.
He had not expected it of his father.
After the scene in the marketplace the day before, Wickham had demanded a full reporting of his actions. Harold had been forced to hand over the documents pertaining to the Penfolds and to account for every second since.
Then his father had knocked him down. Wickham had kicked him and punched him until all he could do was cover his face and try to deflect some of the blows. He hadn’t even got one bruising hit in for himself. Tobias and Jackson had arrived but they hadn’t helped
