Race to World's End (Rowan and Ella Book 3)

by Kiernan-Lewis, Susan

  “Does he even know what the lighter is?”

  “That’s just it. There’s something about the guy that makes me think he might be, you know, a traveler like us.”

  “Really? Do you think he knows about you?”

  “I don’t know. If he did, he wasn’t interested in swapping stories. He had me flayed alive about three months ago—”

  “Rowan!”

  “And he gave the order to lop off my left hand.”

  Ella grabbed for his hand and pressed it to her breast. Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of all that he had endured.

  “A command, which, as you can see, was changed at the last minute in the light of the increased amount of work he could get out of me if he kept me able-bodied. And while I’m glad to have my hand, I’ll never forget those three minutes as they strapped my arm down when I expected to lose it. Oh, and did I mention he sold me into slavery?”

  “He’s a monster,” Ella whispered as she pulled Rowan back down to the bed. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. He smelled like lemons and soap. Even in a filthy backwater loft with stained linens and a privy bucket in the corner of the room, the scent of his body—male and so familiar—filled her with love and longing for him. She reveled in the nearness of him again and to feel him, real and whole in her arms after so many weeks of fear and separation.

  She knew what he had lived through on the pirate ship had changed him. She could see that. She knew he had experienced unimaginable tortures during an elongated stretch of helplessness that was foreign to whom he was fundamentally.

  She also knew without a doubt his main intention was not just to retrieve his lighter, but to put a bullet in Sully’s brain.

  ***

  Adele put her French book down and watched the clouds fill and luff through her window and then scuttle away. Ella had been gone for over six hours now and Adele was sure she wasn’t dressed for the change in weather. The poor thing didn’t even have a bonnet on as far as Adele knew, let alone protection against the coming storm.

  “Where the blazes could she have gone?”

  She directed her attention back to where Lawrence sat in her father’s favorite wingback chair next to the cold fireplace. He was gnawing on his fingers, something she had to say she didn’t find at all attractive. His own textbook lay unopened in his lap.

  Lessons had suffered this morning as a result of Ella Pierce’s selfish and unladylike behavior.

  “She’ll come home soon,” Adele said for what she was sure was the hundredth time. “There’s no place for her to go.”

  “What if she is accosted? She has absolutely no sense, you know.”

  Adele did indeed know. Ella acted as mad and irrational as she was now convinced she was. She had no trouble believing at all that the silly cow had gone to the wharfs or any place else a sane, normal person would never dream of going.

  “This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t followed your advice.”

  She looked at him with surprise. He had never spoken to her sharply. He was looking at her now and she realized that the enforced sitting under the circumstances were not doing him any good. While his leg was crossed, a foot jiggled frenetically as if involuntary.

  “My advice?”

  “Yes! You said to go through her things and ‘clip her wings,’ I believe your words were. I wish you could have seen her face when she caught me in her room! She looked as if I’d…I’d…” He looked out the window too, as if searching for his words outside.

  His profile was classically beautiful, Adele thought. Like the ancient Romans or perhaps a Greek god. Up until last week, she had believed that his lips, though thin and sharp, were the font of all that was glorious and perfect in the world. The thought of them on her own mouth was enough to drench her undergarments within seconds.

  Yet it was, in fact, those selfsame lips that had spoken the words to her—in this very room—that served to destroy her world and any hope she had of happiness when he told her he was engaged to be married.

  She watched him now as he flipped peevishly through the book on his lap.

  “I know you’re upset, Lawrence—”

  “Upset? Yes, I’m upset! My fiancée is wandering the streets of Thompson Island with a tropical hurricane bearing down on us.” He jumped up and moved to the window, abandoning all pretense of the lesson or calm.

  Adele decided this wasn’t the moment to remind him that Ella was no longer his intended. Yet it was becoming increasingly tiresome to have to reassure him about the woman’s safety. “I’m sure she will return soon,” she said soothingly. “She’ll be hungry and want her dinner. I promise you—”

  “This is where your promises have gotten me. I should be out there right now looking for her. Or going to fetch the constabulary.” He stomped back to his chair and slumped into it, looking at Adele with all the petulance of a cranky child. “My precious girl might be lying under a wagon wheel or in a ditch this very minute. And we are doing French verbs!”

  It was clear he was only going to get worse if she didn’t stop it.

  Adele put her book down and stood, straightening the kirtle of her dress. He watched her approach him, and as she had been careful never to touch him before, he could have no hint or idea of what she might be about to do. She dropped to her knees before him and, without breaking eye contact, pulled her blouse apart, baring her small breasts. He gasped and jerked upright.

  But not away.

  When she reached for the front buttons on his trousers and pried his member, stiff and hard, from his pants she gripped it tightly in her hand and beheld the wonder in his glazed eyes.

  “My dear girl…” he whispered and licked his lips.

  It was then she knew she had him.

  Lawrence would not be thinking of runaway fiancées this afternoon.

  Daisy stepped away from the hinge of the door that led to the library. The image of her bare-breasted mistress kneeling before her tutor was emblazoned across Daisy’s mind.

  The craven slut. No better than a hoor from the docks.

  Not that she was much surprised. No, it would be fitting whatever the pirates had in mind for her. That was the plain truth. And if Daisy and Georgie were to benefit from what happened to her, well, that was just fine then.

  Daisy crept silently into the dining room and beyond into the kitchen so the witch wouldn’t know she’d seen what she had.

  Besides, the best laid plans were always them that came as a surprise.

  ***

  Ella looked up from the plate of crab cakes and conch fritters Rowan had fetched from the tavern below. She literally could not get her fill of gazing at her husband and marveling that she had really found him once more across time.

  I did it, Tater, she thought. I’m bringing your daddy home to you.

  Rowan drank deeply from one of the two tankards of ale he had brought upstairs.

  “Don’t get hooked on that stuff,” Ella said, teasingly. “You know you can’t get it back in 1925. At least I hope you can’t.”

  He grimaced over the rim of his mug. “I’d kill for a Coke.” He looked out the window. “I hope that’s an exaggeration but I’m not really sure any more.”

  Ella knew he was worried about how they were going to get back. They needed a plan. And so far they had nothing.

  “Is there a way you could buy the lighter back from Sully?”

  Rowan made a face. “Maybe. Although I was kind of getting attached to the idea of putting a gun to his head and just taking it.”

  “Let’s work with the buying-it-back approach, shall we? The problem is, I’m broke. Do you have anything to trade that he might want?”

  “No. But I might be able to get my hands on something.”

  “Something that doesn’t belong to you?”

  Rowan gave her a wide-eyed look.

  “Rowan. You do remember you’re a US Marshal in another life, right?”

  “Don’t worry. I’d just
be stealing something that was stolen in the first place.”

  “Do I want to hear this?”

  “When they grabbed me, they already had a prisoner in their hold—”

  “The Dutchman?”

  Rowan grinned. “You really were hot on my trail, weren’t you? Yeah, his name was Jan. He tried to buy his freedom by saying he’d give ‘em a treasure he had in Casablanca.”

  “I actually heard this part. Did they let him go?”

  “At first I thought they did but I’ve since had information to the contrary. Besides, you’re here and you never got a letter from me, did you?”

  “A letter? You sent me a letter?” Ella’s brow puckered in a frown.

  “Exactly. Well, it doesn’t matter now. But it does kinda confirm that Jan didn’t live long enough to mail it.”

  “I’m sorry, Rowan. Sounds like you liked him.”

  “He was a good guy, just trying to make his family proud of him and make a life for himself.”

  “Did he really have a treasure?”

  “That is the million dollar question, isn’t it? Sully said no, but you won’t be surprised to learn that pirates aren’t really a trusting bunch and most of the crew thinks he pocketed the treasure for himself.”

  “Based on what?”

  “Based on the fact we dropped anchor in the Dry Tortugas and he went ashore alone. General consensus is he went there to bury his bling. If I can find it, I’m pretty sure he’ll trade the lighter to get it back.”

  “Rowan, you can’t be serious. Isn’t Dry Tortugas crawling with every manner of degenerate cutthroat—each of whom is probably intent on finding the same buried treasure?”

  “Probably.”

  Ella felt the euphoria of the last several hours begin to wane. Her bottom lip trembled. “You don’t think just hanging onto me would do the trick?” she said.

  He shook his head sadly and put a reassuring hand on her knee to soften his words. “Olna said we need a talisman. That lighter is the only thing I have in this timeline. If I don’t get it back, I can’t leave.”

  22

  The pure joy of awaking and seeing Rowan lying next to her filled Ella until she thought she would weep with the pleasure of it. He was too tan, too thin and there was a hardened look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, but it was still him.

  The first several times that they had made love had been rushed—nearly violent. It was as if he needed to prove to himself that she was real and wouldn’t disappear, that she really was in his arms. But there was something else too. He was rougher and more insistent as he claimed her, almost as if he were angry with her. Or maybe himself? She wouldn’t try to understand it.

  Sometime deep in the middle of the night he’d awakened and reached for her and he’d made love to her as tenderly and gently as if he’d never left and he’d never experienced any of the horrible things she now knew he had.

  It will take awhile, she thought as she grazed a light hand down his cheek, watching his thick dark lashes flutter open sleepily. Before the good morning was out of her mouth, he was pulling her to him, his hand dropping between her legs, his fingers probing her slickness there.

  “Well, I guess that’s one way to wake up,” she said, pulling herself on top of him. He reached for her breasts, kneading the nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and then in a rushed movement took his cock and slipped it hard into her. She gasped at how he filled her so completely and the first thrust ignited an immediate orgasm that made her cry out.

  “There ya go, baby,” she heard him say as the waves of intense pleasure wracked her core and left her quivering. “Almost there, almost there.” She felt his hands on her hips as he encouraged her to move up and down on him. When she did, he groaned and then flipped them both over, pinning her beneath him. He drove into her over and over again, his noises animal and raw until he roared his own release.

  When he fell from her onto his side of the bed, her heart was pounding with the exertion, the pleasure and even the fear.

  “You know we can’t carry on like this back in our real life,” she said to him. She watched him open one eye and a grin played across his full lips.

  “Just making up for all that I missed,” he said.

  “I don’t think it works like that.”

  “Well, that’s how it’s gonna work at least for a while,” he said, yawning.

  “Wow, you certainly got bossy in the last five months,” she said, kissing his lips. “I was so worried, Rowan. So afraid.”

  He opened his eyes and drew her into his arms. The feel of his strength and hardness gave her a rush of pleasure even more intense than her orgasm.

  “I know, babe,” he whispered. “Although I always knew I’d somehow get back to you.”

  “Same here,” she said. “It was the how part of the equation that made me afraid.”

  “Yeah.”

  He kissed her gently and pulled a strand of hair from her face. “Why did you cut your hair?”

  “I kind of played a role when I was in 1825 Casablanca to try to find you.”

  “Do I want to know about it?”

  “I’m almost sure not,” she said. “But I’ll tell you one day. Besides, it all worked out. And the hair will grow back.”

  He ran a hand down her back. “I hate to take my hands off you,” he said. “I definitely don’t want to let you out of this bed, and you can forget ever leaving this room.”

  Ella laughed.

  “But I guess we do need to get things set up for living here?”

  Ella sat up and saw how Rowan watched her naked breasts as she spoke.

  Dear God, would he ever get enough?

  “I need to run a very quick errand,” she said, “and pick up a few things so we can move to a place without bedbugs or rats in the walls.”

  He grinned. “You didn’t used to be so picky.” He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “But you’re right. And I’ve got a little something I need to do, too. I hate to leave you…” He reached out and cupped one of her breasts.

  “There is no way you’re ready to go again, Rowan Pierce, and I’m so sore I’m going to be walking bowlegged for a week so just cool your jets, me bucko. Plenty of time for that when we meet back up at the hotel. If there is one in this one-horse berg.”

  “You always were the sensible one.”

  “I guess you’re being funny now?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. Everyone knows you’re impetuous and foolhardy.” He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

  Ella slipped into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder. “I love you, too, Rowan,” she said. “No more separations ever again.”

  ***

  Daisy felt her grip on the feather duster slick with her own perspiration. She stood near Adele as the young woman gazed at herself in the salon mirror that faced Main Street. The heat was even more oppressive today than usual. A rivulet of sweat drove down the crease between Daisy’s breasts.

  “Get that thing away from me,” Adele snarled, without looking at Daisy. “I’m allergic to dust. And go start my bath. Why do you make me ask you twice for everything?”

  Daisy licked her lips. She couldn’t just give up. She couldn’t just let it all collapse like this.

  “Miss,” she said. “You are to visit the seamstress today to finish the final alteration of your gown at the—”

  Adele whirled around and snatched the duster from Daisy’s slippery fingers and flung it into her face. “I said get it away from me!” An explosion of dust erupted across the front of Daisy’s starched apron and she staggered backward at the assault, covering her mouth to contain the cough she couldn’t help.

  “Yes, Miss,” she said. “It’s just that you so loved this frock when you had them start it and I know you’ll want to have it ready in time for the Planter’s Ball next month.”

  She has to go to the seamstress today! The men are waiting for her at precisely two o�
��clock on the corner!

  “I have plenty of time for that. I don’t feel like going out today. It’s too hot. Which is why…” Adele turned slowly away from the mirror, her face gnarled into a scowl that distorted her normally pretty features. “…I want my bath now.”

  Not waiting for the slap that would punctuate the command, Daisy bobbed a quick curtsey and, snatching up the duster from the floor, fled the room. As she hurried up the stairs, her heart was pounding. Would they kill Georgie today? When Daisy didn’t show with Miss Adele, would they give her a chance to explain?

  Georgie had been very clear. Daisy was to have Miss Adele at the corner of Whitehead and Fleming Streets at as near to two o’clock as possible. When Daisy saw two men approach she was to feign dropping her bag so that, when questioned later, she could honestly say she had not seen their faces.

  And now it was all ruined!

  She stopped on the landing to catch her breath and tried to force herself to calm down and think clearly.

  Was there any way at all it could still work?

  Before she reached Adele’s bedroom, she heard the sound of the doorbell below. She knew Adele wouldn’t answer it—and their major domo was sick with yellow fever, likely not to recover. Daisy caught a quick glimpse of herself in Adele’s vanity mirror and tucked a few errant strands of hair into her bun. She quickly untied her apron and placed it on the bed. She would be back in plenty of time to remove it before Adele came up for her bath. She ran downstairs in time to hear the sounds of the swish of a heavy skirt as it disappeared into the library.

  Daisy hurried to the door and opened it.

  “Oh!” she said with surprise. “Miss Pierce.”

  “Hello, Daisy,” Ella said. “May I come in? Is Miss Morton at home?”

  “Yes, of course, Miss,” Daisy said, opening the door for her. “If you’ll just wait in the salon, I’ll tell her you’re here.”

  “Sure. Thanks.” Ella entered the sunny foyer and followed the maid into the salon.

  After Ella seated herself, Daisy walked to the library, where she found Adele flipping through a book on the divan.