Carried Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book Two)

by Kamery Solomon

  Tristan was still with Bevard, laughing with a drink in his hand. He appeared so happy and peaceful.

  And then he saw me.

  It was like watching a storm overtake his features. I didn’t know what I looked like, but whatever it was, he instantly switched from his calm, personable member of court appearance to that of the man who had killed the Adelina’s captain in a duel on the beach of Madagascar. This was the man who worked in a secret trade, slept among pirates, and knew what dangers the world truly possessed.

  Striding through the crowd that easily parted for him, some of the courtiers gawping at him in surprise, he reached me within seconds, taking me by the arm and leading me away.

  “What happened?” he asked tightly, surveying Abella once as well.

  “They’re here,” I spoke breathlessly. “The Black Knights. We heard them talking, going over plans that they had.”

  “Oh, Monsieur O’Rourke,” Abella gulped fearfully, her eyes showing signs of overflowing with tears. “You are in terrible danger.”

  “I’m not the one in danger, believe me,” he reassured her. “Tell me everything ye heard.”

  We relayed the conversation to him the best we could, glossing over the part where they’d been talking about his murder, as he led us back to our rooms in the palace.

  “And ye didn’t see either of the scoundrels?” he inquired again, locking the door behind us.

  “Not even once.” I was as apologetic as possible, but it didn’t feel like enough. Why hadn’t I jumped through the hedge and confronted them? Why hadn’t I at least tried to look somehow? I’d had no weapon and no way to do anything to help and it made me so angry I could have slapped myself.

  He paced the room for a moment and then turned abruptly, going to the door. “Stay here,” he ordered us. “Do not open the door for anyone but me. I’m going for Bevard. Who knows how many of the villains are here at Court tonight. We can’t wait to make a plan.”

  The door closed hard behind him and we both flinched, my own heart still racing. “Black Knights at Court,” I whispered. “This is bad—really, really bad. How high up could it have gone?”

  Balking, I remembered Tristan’s earlier warning. The Grand Master had joined the Black Knights. Kings had been part of the secret before. Was the Sun King a Black Knight in disguise? Did he know of the secret pacts that existed right under his nose? Did he facilitate them himself?

  “Black Knights,” Abella replied, breathing slow and deep. “I don’t understand. Who are they?”

  “Bad people,” I answered shortly. “That’s all I can tell you, right now.”

  She regarded me with a cautious expression she’d never aimed at me before and then nodded, seeming to accept it for now. Something told me she may have understood a little more than she was letting on, but I pushed that thought aside.

  England was close. If the Order could get there and intercept Randall, this fight would be over before it really got the chance to start. I wouldn’t be able to go, not when I could be pregnant, but Tristan would be back in no time at all.

  Randall may have been making talk about killing my husband, but we all knew at the end of the day Tristan was the better fighter. Thomas would need God on his side to beat Tristan, and I didn’t think the Lord was one to help the scum of the earth.

  We didn’t talk much after that, huddled together as we waited for Tristan to return. The longer it took, the more I began to relax. If we were in real danger, he would be here in an instant to take us away. I highly doubted he’d opened fire on anyone and accused them of being evil, so the only other alternative was that he was helping to sort things out.

  Several hours passed before there was a light knocking at the door. Tristan stood on the other side, tired and angry, but whole. Silently, I let a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding loose.

  “Ye should have gone to bed,” he said upon seeing me. “It’s nearly dawn.”

  “You knew I’d wait for you.”

  Nodding, he smiled at Abella, who had regained some of her formality and composure after being scared by the both of us.

  “Aye. Methinks it will be best to sleep through the day, anyway. Come to bed with me, lass?” He took my hand, helping me stand from the seat I’d been resting in, and then turned back to Abella. “All is well,” he assured her. “It’s taken care of. Ye need to rest as well. Thank ye for staying with her.”

  She curtsied, slipping away to her own room in a flash.

  With a sigh, I went into our room with him, watching as he locked the door and leaned against it.

  “The scouts are on their way to England,” he said roughly, with a note of impatience. “They will wait to see if Randall makes landfall. When he does, we will leave to get him.”

  “You don’t like this plan.” It wasn’t a question; the feelings were all right there on his face.

  “No, damn it, I don’t! We shouldn’t be waiting and wringing our hands like old maids! Who knows how long he’ll be there? He could be gone before word even reaches us that he’s arrived. Where will we be then? He’ll have more men to his name and we’ll have lost the trail.” He slammed his fist against the door, making me jump some, and then ran his fingers through his hair, shoving away from the entrance and going toward the bed.

  “I understand what you’re saying, what you’re feeling,” I assured him. “But I understand why the Grand Master wants to be careful. Thomas is a dangerous man. It’s best to think things through before acting.”

  “I know,” he mumbled, undoing the buttons on his vest. “But I don’t have to like it, savvy?”

  Motioning me over, he began releasing all of my numerous laces, helping me out of my dress without saying anything else. Only when he saw me standing before him in nothing but my shift did he truly seem to relax, his eyes suddenly drooping in exhaustion.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t with ye, Sam,” he said quietly. “That ye had to hear men talking about me like that. I know if I’d heard anyone say those things about ye—”

  “It’s okay,” I interrupted, pulling him to me in a strong embrace. “I’m okay. You’re okay. Everything is fine. I’ve heard much worse than two men babbling together.”

  My bravado and smile didn’t do anything to cheer him. He simply continued to hold me, his fingers pressing into my back, his face buried in the crook of my neck as he breathed heavily. After a few moments, he let me go and continued to undress, climbing up onto the bed and collapsing against the pillows.

  “Tristan?” My heart had started pounding again as I laid down beside him and I closed my eyes tight, trying to work up the courage to tell him what he needed to know.

  “Hmmm?”

  “I don’t think I can go with you to get him.”

  His lazy breathing stopped, his form becoming more alert, and he rolled over, reaching out to touch my face with care.

  “Why not? Is something wrong? Do ye not want me to go?” The questions poured out of him so quickly that I suddenly realized he’d been worried about going after the Black Knights as well. While I’d been afraid to be without him, he’d feared me not being at his side.

  “It’s not that,” I said quickly. “I mean, I don’t really want you to go, but I understand you need to. I want to go with you. I just . . . can’t.” The ending was lame, my mouth feeling like it was getting drier by the second, my words getting tongue-tied.

  “What is it?”

  His eyes were so startling green and full of love, and his hand warm on my cheek, which suddenly made me feel like crying again. He wouldn’t be mad. Oh no, he would be happier than I’d ever seen him.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  The words hung in the air between us, having caught him completely off guard, and his face went blank, his body freezing. After a few seconds, he seemed to come around, staring down at my stomach, the hand on my face traveling down to rest on the flat surface.

  “Truly?” he whispered, wonder in his voice. His fingers traced my skin throu
gh the fabric of my shift, his eyes never leaving my midriff.

  “I think so,” I answered unevenly. “I was going to wait a few more weeks to be sure before I told you, but with everything going on I thought now was the time.”

  He gazed at me then, and one of the largest smiles I’d ever seen him wear covered his face. With a loud whoop and a laugh, he smashed his lips against mine, holding me to him tightly. “I’m going to be a father.” He broke away, suddenly. “I’m going to be a father!” Sitting up, he put both hands on my stomach and leaned over, kissing it. “Hello in there,” he said softly. “Child of mine.”

  His happiness was overflowing, the laughter, exclamations of surprise, and joy, made me feel like I could float away on a cloud of happiness.

  “You aren’t upset?” I asked, laughing as he kissed my stomach again.

  “Why would I be?” He seemed appalled at the very thought. “My wife, the woman I love more than anything else in the world, has just told me I’m to be a father!” Lying down, he pulled me into his embrace, kissing the top of my head. “A child—a real child. That ye and I made! Our child. Our baby.”

  “Our baby,” I repeated, tearing up a little. “I thought you would be mad that it happened before we were ready.”

  “I was ready from the day I married ye,” he answered energetically. “I’ve been ready to be a father since the day I left home and joined the Order. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, to settle down with ye and have our own little Tristan or Samantha. I would never be mad at ye, lass.” Kissing me on the mouth again, he brushed his hand over my stomach once more, laughing against me. “Is that why ye’ve been so sick? I was worried ye’d caught something on the ship!”

  “I guess,” I replied, smiling. “I didn’t think it was that obvious.”

  “Lass, ye would hardly eat sometimes. It doesn’t take long to know that’s not normal for ye.”

  Playfully slapping him on the shoulder, I finally allowed myself to feel the warm, fuzzy thoughts about having a child that I’d been shoving aside since I first discovered what was going on.

  A baby. Our baby. Tears of happiness rolled down my face and I cuddled closer to Tristan, wanting to feel his heat all around me once more.

  “Monsieur O’Rourke!”

  The yell came from the front door, followed by incessant pounding as whoever was outside continued to shout. Startled, the two of us practically fell out of the bed.

  “Wait here,” Tristan ordered quietly, grabbing a lit candle and going into the sitting room.

  Frowning, I nodded, upset that our time together to bask in this moment was being cut short. He didn’t seem too excited about it either, but there was only one reason someone would come banging on our door just before sunrise.

  “What is it?” I heard him grouchily ask once the door was open.

  “A scout returned from England—one who was already assigned there. Thomas Randall has been spotted in London.”

  “What about you, Madame O’Rourke?”

  Drawn out of my nervous musings, I looked across the room, to the woman who had grabbed my attention. She sat on the edge of her chair, every bit the proper lady, a teacup and saucer held delicately in her fingers. The dress she wore made her look like some kind of angel, the golden brown fabric layered exactly perfect for her skinny form. Lace brushed her elbows and neckline, the high collar a change from what I’d seen most women wearing lately. A matching hat graced her blonde curls, pinned expertly against her head in a way that simply made her entire appearance scream royalty.

  Lady Chastity, the duchess of some place or another situated some distance from the palace, stared at me expectantly, her glass held just below her lips, as if she were waiting for me to answer before sipping.

  “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what it is you’re asking.” Smiling tightly, I lowered my head, carefully tasting the hot liquid I grasped in my own hands.

  Everything was too fancy here. All of the chairs were hand carved and painted, the seats covered in beautiful works of art sewn into the fabric. Pink walls with gold inlay surrounded us, mirrors reflecting the scene, tall statues stood guard at every corner. Enormous bouquets of flowers cascaded over their vases on end tables, and a harpsichord, set right in front of the window overlooking the gardens, gleamed in the sunlight. This was a place for the visiting members of court to relax and spend their time, but it felt more like an overly decorated prison cell while occupied by our present company.

  “Oh, come now,” the older woman replied, laughing as she glanced at the other ladies in the room. “Surely, someone born and raised in the colonies would know whether or not their loyalty remains with England. You’ve traveled extensively with your husband, as well. Do you really claim to know nothing of the state of your homeland?”

  “I think what Samantha means is that she’s not been privy to the political leanings and desires of her representatives.” Abella responded coldly, coming to my aid yet again. “Why would she be? She grew up on farmland. Her travels with Monsieur O’Rourke have been that of a merchant captain’s wife.”

  “Why are you here?” Chastity asked, her voice snapping like a whip. “You should be with the other maids.”

  Feeling like she might as well have slapped us both across the face, my mouth popped open in surprise. “Abella is my friend, not a servant.” Sitting up straight, I stared at the duchess, finding my voice at last. We’d been listening to her belittle and condone every other person in attendance for the past two hours, and I’d had enough. “She’s here because I asked her to stay with me. His Majesty has invited us to stay after the ball has ended, as his guests. You stay because your husband wants more time with his mistress.”

  The royal stared at me in astonishment, apparently having never been spoken to like that before. Those in the room whispered behind fans and hands, watching me with wide eyes.

  “Samantha!” Abella scolded me, giving me the same horrified appraisal.

  “Everyone knows it’s true,” I replied defensively. “We all saw him with her.”

  “Oui, just as everyone saw you spirited away by your husband on the first night.” Lady Chastity’s cup clattered as she set it on the table, picking up her fan furiously and practically throwing it open. “Tell us, what startled you so?”

  “It must have been my lack of political knowledge and power,” I replied smoothly, setting my tea down and standing up. “Now, if you will excuse me, I do believe I have somewhere I need to be.”

  Turning, I ignored the further gasps that followed behind me; if I’d been proper, I should have at least asked for her permission to leave, since she was a higher class than I. However, I also shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but there really wasn’t any coming back from what I’d done now. It didn’t matter in the long run. If the women hadn’t been happily putting others down, they had been dragging England through the mud, directing many of their insults to me—the only English person in the room, or so they thought.

  “Well, I never!”

  Lady Chastity’s voice carried after me as I brushed past the servant at the door, Abella right behind me. As soon as I was in the hall, I felt as if I could breathe again, sighing as my shoulders slumped. Facing her, I smiled sheepishly.

  “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have said it, but I couldn’t stand listening to her any longer. Who is she to make everyone else feel like garbage, intruding into their lives without so much as an excuse me?”

  Abella closed her eyes as if she were trying to calm herself, lips pressing into a thin line. “She is a duchess, Sam,” she muttered. “It doesn’t matter what you think, what you did back there was very inappropriate. What’s worse, it will spread like wildfire to everyone in attendance.”

  “Only because I said what everyone else was thinking!” Giving her a pleading look, I shrugged my shoulders. “How bad could it be?”

  “That depends on what she wants done about it.” Breathing heavily again, she took my arm in hers, the two of us
walking slowly down the empty hall. “Lady Chastity is one of the King’s cousins. If she were to ask him for something, she would most likely receive it. It could be nothing, or we could find ourselves thrown out of the palace before the ball is even over this evening.”

  “This stupid ball,” I grumbled, feeling my earlier anxiousness fill my mind once more. “How are we supposed to go around, acting like nothing is wrong? Thomas Randall is so close we can almost touch him, and everyone is just sitting here, twiddling their thumbs while they wait until it’s socially acceptable to leave.”

  “You know that’s not what’s happening,” she replied, her voice taking a type of mothering tone. Despite being the older of the two of us, I found great comfort in her presence and suggestions. She had a way of making the situation sound better than it was, which I desperately needed right now, because she was right.

  At this very moment, Tristan was with the other members of the Order that were here, meeting somewhere in secret. They were making a plan of action, sending messages back to the Temple, working to get a crew together that would depart in the morning. In truth, it was the earliest they could get the men and resources together. It was the last night of the ball, as well; there was no reason for them to have to stay any longer than tonight. Their presence here gave the illusion that we didn’t know what was going on, which I assumed was imperative to the plan.

  “They will catch them. Monsieur O’Rourke will return in no time, a few weeks at the most. Surely, you don’t doubt his ability to catch these Black Knights?” Abella was trying to convince me again, noticing the signs of distress I’d been exhibiting since we overheard the conversation in the garden.

  “Of course I know he can do it.” Quietly, I continued on, not wanting any prying ears to overhear, should they be listening just out of sight. “It’s only . . . I’ve never sent him off to fight alone. We’ve always gone together. Now, because of the baby, I have to stay and wait. How do I sit around and not know what’s happening? If he’s alive or dead? It doesn’t even seem possible to me, knowing that while he’s out at battle, I’ll be here, pretending nothing is wrong.”