by Misty Burke
“But sire—” The Sargent hated to grovel.
“Enough. I’m going to behead her in Kingstown square. Arrest her when she docks.”
Chapter Six
The sun faded when their wagon pulled up into a line of various other mechanically drawn carriages. Men and women—all dressed in prim and proper attire—made their way into a large cave opening. Emma glanced at her companion and watched with amusement as curiosity crept over his otherwise handsome face. “Maybe I should have mentioned the steamboat is underground?”
Tripp was just about to comment when the farmer pointed to an official looking gentlemen who headed their way. “Madame, I believe he’s checking for tickets.”
“We will go ahead and leave you here.” Emma stood and placed a gentle hand on the old man’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you to get in any trouble on our account.”
“Save our beloved Westland,” he whispered as Tripp and Emma got out of the wagon. “Godspeed.”
They watched him turn around and drive off just as the gentleman approached and held out a gloved hand. “Your invitation to the Queen Penelope?”
Emma laced her arm through Tripp’s and acted as if the man before them was only a nuisance. “Dear, please show him our coin. Guests of the king shouldn’t be harassed in this manner.”
Tripp looked down at her with a moment of confusion and then took out his silver coin. “I’m sure this man is only doing is job … darling.”
The gentleman snapped to attention when he spotted the coin. “My apologizes. Please, I will escort you to the front of the line myself.” They followed him around the growing masses of people and directly into the mouth of the cave.
The walls were lit with well-placed lanterns and rusty pipes snaked along the rock ceiling. It was cool and damp. Tripp removed his dress coat and draped it over her shoulders. “So I’m guessing there is an underground river somewhere?”
Their guide took a passageway off to the left and promptly answered before Emma had a chance. “Of course, sir.” The gentleman used his arm to usher them farther along one of the cave paths. “Down this corridor there will be the registration table for his majesty’s special guests.”
“Thank you.” Emma tilted her head in acknowledgement. “We can continue on our own then.”
“As you wish.” He bowed slightly and wasted no time in leaving.
“Emma.” Tripp turned her toward him and whispered, “When were you going to tell me our ticket on the gambling boat was for some kind of royalty? Don’t you think this is a little dangerous? You’re a traitor to the king, not his honored guest.”
“Actually, I’m his daughter…and a traitor.” She pulled herself free from his hold and walked down the corridor.
“What?” Irritation could be heard in his voice as he jogged up next to her. “Oh hell no. This isn’t some spoiled-daughter-wants–to-ruin-her-daddy scenario is it? ‘Cause I’m not going to be a part of that game.”
Emma let the anger roll through her. She had heard all of this before. “I really don’t care what you think. And if you aren’t going to help, then I’ll find someone else to read the tinker’s plans. This is much too important.”
They reached the registration table in silence. A prim and proper woman took their coin and explained they would be lowered through a hole in the cave floor. The Queen Penelope steamboat waited on the level below.
“We’re not done talking about this,” he whispered as Emma stepped forward.
Handing him back his dress coat and locking herself into the makeshift swing, she gave him a cold stare. “There’s nothing more to say.” She pulled on the lever and the swing took her down.
The royal steamboat was a beautiful sight. It sat majestically on a wide river in an expansive cavern. Twinkling lights were everywhere and fun dance music echoed off the walls. Guests took turns climbing the planks to their all-night evening of gambling and alcohol. All compliments of their king.
People are starving and my greedy father only wants to conquer more land, so he can fund more of these rich events … for his select. The thought ate at her like a cold chill.
She waited for Tripp. He was her ticket in, whether she liked it or not. “If you’ll slip me the plans once we’re aboard, we can go our separate way.”
“I don’t think so.” He took her elbow and moved her onto the plank beside him. “Madame of Gravestone, you’re hot and amazing in bed. I’ll admit you had me believing your every word.” His accusations made her sick. “But now I’m wondering what part of this plan is for the good of the people or—”
“Shut up.” They stepped onto the boat and she slapped him across the face. “You have no idea what I’ve lived through. You have no concept of what is good for the people of Westland—”
“That’s right, I don’t. And the problem is you’re happy with leaving me in the dark.” He stared into her eyes and she could almost feel the emotion in his words. “Emma, if I’m going to be a part of this, then you’re going to have to let me in on a few of the bigger things … like the fact that you’re the king’s daughter.
“I thought you said I didn’t have to tell you anything until I trusted you.”
Tripp paused. Emma watched as her words took effect. She had hurt him. How dare he think one night of sex means I have to trust him completely? She was about to say more when a rogue from her past came bursting out of the crowd.
“Is that my Emma?”
“George.” She was swept into his arms and twirled around in reckless abandon. “George, put me down.”
The man dropped her to her feet and offered Tripp his hand. “Well, hello there. Are you her escort for the evening?”
“It does look that way.” Tripp once again took his place beside Emma and the three of them went into a large poker hall.
“Why don’t you go and play a round of cards?” Emma motioned toward the tables and hoped Tripp would take the hint.
“Wonderful idea.” George tossed a poker chip in Tripp’s direction. “I’ll take the lady dancing while you go play.”
Chapter Seven
Tripp watched as George and Emma melted away into a bustling group of dancing couples. He hadn’t felt this jealous and hurt since his college days. I’m losing it, he thought as he sat at one of the card tables. This one has really done a number on me.
It wasn’t until a few good rounds of cards had passed through his hands and a stack of chips was in front of him, that he began to relax. “Women,” he mumbled aloud. “Can’t live with them—”
“Can’t live without them.” Professor Greggor’s voice rang in his ears. The man in his staple safari gear handed the dealer a few chips. “Cash my friend out, please.”
“Shit. Is that really you?”
“Take your money, son. You can buy me a drink at the bar.”
The two men got their liquor and found two empty stools in the corner of the large room. It was a good place to talk privately, but still watch everything going on. “Can I assume you came back for me?”
“You sound disappointed.” The professor chuckled. “Does it have anything to do with the lovely princess? I couldn’t help but notice you arrived with her.”
Tripp shook his head in frustration. “Am I the only one who didn’t know the Madame of Gravestone was also the king’s daughter?”
The professor gave him a quizzical look. “If it makes you feel any better, I know nothing of the Gravestone part. When I arrived here the first time, I landed right in the middle of the palace gardens. I met the royal family then.”
“Apparently a lot has happened since.” Tripp tipped back his drink and emptied his glass.
“That’s true. From the gossip I’ve already heard, there is a group of traitors trying to sabotage this monarchy. It seems the king has gotten a little arrogant and greedy with his poorer citizens.”
Tripp removed his top hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Princess Emma is leading that group of traitors and I’m deep in the m
iddle of it.”
“I see.” Professor Greggor finished off his drink and stared at the glass bottom. “You in love with her too?”
Ignoring the last question, Tripp scanned the room. It had filled considerably since their arrival. Westland’s upper class were happily gambling, dancing or drinking. “Professor, did you happen to see where my date has run off to?”
The boat whistled its departure as both men walked around the main room. Tripp watched the dancers with growing anxiety while the professor scanned the gambling tables. “Isn’t that the fellow she was dancing with?”
Tripp turned to see George leaning against a wall chatting playfully with a group of young women. None of them were Emma. “I believe it is.”
He pushed through the crowd and joined the little sideshow. Tripp watched as George made a coin appear behind a woman’s ear.
The impromptu magician gave him a curt nod. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Excuse us, ladies.” Tripp stepped up into George’s face and spotted Emma’s necklace dangling around his neck. “If you’re so good at magic tricks, make Emma appear.”
“That I can’t do.” George laughed nervously and stepped back a pace. “We danced and then went our separate way. She’s a grown woman, you know.”
Tripp grabbed Emma’s chain and broke it free. “Then why do you have this?”
“Gentlemen.” The professor arrived with a man in uniform. “This is one of the king’s constables.
“Thank god.” It was clear George was relieved. “Officer, this man just assaulted me.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Tripp pocketed the necklace and punched George square in the face. “Now I’ve assaulted you.”
Professor Greggor grabbed Tripp and pretended to hold him at bay. “They’re going to arrest him,” he whispered as the constable moved past them and took hold of George’s arm.
“We have witnesses that say you have a girl hostage in your room.” The officer motioned toward the door and two other men assisted him in escorting George out. “This will not be tolerated on the Queen Penelope.”
Tripp wasted no time finding George’s room. And with the help of his skeleton key, he was inside shortly after that. Unfortunately though, Emma was nowhere to be seen. Tripp felt anger and worry rising in his chest as he focused on the few pieces of furniture within the small cabin space. There was only a bed, a reading chair and an antique wardrobe.
“Emma?” He gave a quick look under the bed before his attention moved to the wardrobe’s padlocked doors. “I swear, woman.” He rattled the doors before giving it a hard kick with his boot. In one quick snap, the padlock broke and the wardrobe doors splintered open. The Madame of Gravestone sat tied and gagged in the empty closet. “How many times am I going to have to save you?” He pulled the cloth out of her mouth and picked her up. “I think it’s high time you start trusting me.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears and he couldn’t resist kissing her quivering lips. There was so much more to her than the hardened woman she pretended to be. Tripp laid her on the bed and untied her. “Thank you,” she whispered as their eyes met. “George was going to turn me in for the bounty on my head …”
“Shhh. There is something I need to say.” Tripp kissed her again. “I’m sorry about before. Tell me what you want, when you want. All that really matters to me is … you.”
She reached out and stroked the stubble on his cheek. Her hands slipped his suspenders off his shoulders and then worked the buttons on his shirt. “No more secrets, I promise.”
“Then tell me,” he stood and stripped for her, “tell me your deepest, darkest desire.”
Tripp watched as she unlatched her gown as it fell in a puddle around her. “Secretly?” She reached for his hand and pulled him toward her. “I want to let my guard down. I want to let you love me. Completely. Tonight.”
He kissed her hand and turned her around on the bed. Emma’s red curls fell down her back as the sexy corset conformed to her hourglass figure, and opened back up to her hips and luscious heart-shaped ass. He cupped both of her nude cheeks with his hands and chuckled softly. “I’m so glad I tore your under things last night.”
She turned her head and they kissed with a slow, building passion. Then he used the palm of his hand to gently push her down on all fours. Emma moaned in anticipation as he leaned over and kissed the small of her back. The edge of the corset stopped him from going higher. “Take it off,” she whispered.
“I plan to.” With one hand on the string of her corset, the other roamed down between her legs and found the already wet folds of her sex. Two fingers dipped inside and Emma shook with pleasure. “That’s it.” The hand on her corset pulled the string out of a few loops. “More,” he commanded, as his agile fingers moved within her.
“Oh god.”
Tripp felt her muscles tighten and knew she had climaxed again. He undid a few more loops and licked the exposed skin on her back. Her arms gave way and she found support on her elbows, giving him an even greater view of her round ass. “Mmm.” His hard cock tapped her leg. “More,” he growled. His fingers found her sweet spot and tormented it relentlessly. The corset fell off moments later.
He turned her around and pinned her on the bed. Moving between her legs, but not placing himself inside her, he kissed, bit, and sucked a path from one breast to the other. Her mountains of soft skin only made his erection hurt more. The pounding in his cock wanted release as it hovered only inches above her already dripping wet opening.
“Tripp.” Her voice was heavenly.
He looked into her liquid blue eyes and kissed her again on the mouth. A wave of molten lava surged through him as her hands ran up and down his back. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her hips lifted into his.
His dick slid into her hard and fast. It filled her full with their first joining and rattled them both. The lovemaking took over and all boundaries were lost as the pair moved with an ever increasing beat. It swept them away until ecstasy and exhaustion ended the night.
Chapter Eight
Emma sat in the cabin’s reading chair and stared at the man sleeping in front of her. The bed sheets were wrapped around his muscled torso while his head rested on the pillow they had shared. Tripp Monroe, you’ve stolen my heart and that scares me. She snuggled into his shirt and curled her legs underneath her.
A knock on the door startled both of them. Tripp grabbed his pants and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Just a second,” he said loudly as he looked out the peephole. Shaking his head, he let the Sheriff of Gravestone inside. “Honey, I believe your muscle has arrived.”
“Beatrice.” Emma ran over and gave her a hug.
“Ma’am.” Sheriff Bea handed her a bag and seemed uncertain how to act given the present circumstance. “There’s something we need to talk about in private,” nodding at Tripp in defiance, “without the snitch present.”
“It’s okay. Tripp has offered me his services …” She blushed. “Um, what I meant to say was …”
“I can read the self-destruct plans.” He gave Emma a wink and sat on the end of the bed. “Apparently that’s an important quality.”
Beatrice looked back and forth between the two. “If that’s your decision,” she hesitated before continuing, “but I’m here to tell you the king’s henchman is waiting for you at the docks. Word has it he’s here to finish what he started. The guillotine has your name on it, ma’am.”
Emma dropped the bag on the bed next to Tripp and opened it in silence. A disguise, along with weapons were inside. She slowly took out a gray newsboy outfit. There were knickers, suspenders, a wrinkled shirt, knee high socks, a news hat and goggles. “Really?”
Beatrice shrugged. “It’s all we could find on short notice. Sneaking you off this boat is going to be difficult enough as is.”
Emma motioned for the sheriff and Tripp to turn around as she dressed. “Bea, I’d like you to consider this a direct order.”
“Ma’am?�
�
“You’re to help Tripp get off this rig and finish the mission. I’ll need to stay and deal with the Sargent.”
“No,” Beatrice and Tripp said in unison. They both turned back around as Emma pinned up her hair into the news hat.
“We’re out of options. The clockwork army has to be stopped and I need to make certain that the king’s buffoon doesn’t get in the way.”
Tripp walked over to her. “We can all escape together.”
“Not this time.” Emma stood on her tiptoes and placed a tender kiss on his lips. “If you care for me at all, please, go with Beatrice.”
“I’m not going to leave you. I can’t do that.” He pulled her close. “I’m falling in love with you, Emma.”
“And because you love her, you’ll do exactly what she says.” The click of Beatrice’s gun got their attention.
“Sorry.” Emma looked into his eyes and hoped he understood. Then she slid the goggles into place and walked out the cabin door.
It took her no time to get to the top deck. The guests of the Queen Penelope allowed the petite newsboy to move through the crowds with little to no trouble. And, once she secured a spot on the rail, Emma saw the large cave opening. The steamboat would be outside in the polluted Kingstown air soon and she prayed Tripp could do the impossible.
* * *
The Sargent felt his muscles twitching where human skin collided with metal, and he could still remember the surgeries that had made him this way. Half of his body was now a jumble of mechanical parts, thanks to a mining accident during Westland’s gold rush days. The king had been greedy then, just like he was now. But, none of that mattered. Sargent Baxley Duncan had another job to do.
He stood on the docks and waited for the little traitorous princess to arrive. Her actions had made him look worse than any of the hateful nicknames he tolerated from his superiors and for that he would show no mercy. Word had been sent from the Queen Penelope that an arrest had been made. So, all he needed to do was make sure she got to Kingstown square by noon. If his men were a little rough with her along the way, so be it.