The Lost Knight of Arabia

by Barbara Baldwin

  “You are the devil’s daughter,” his harsh whisper tickled her ear as his lips grazed her cheek.

  Unable to help herself, she leaned into him. The sharp hiss of his breath told her he was just as affected as she was. She turned her face to his. His green eyes sparked with gold, the intensity of his gaze holding her hostage.

  And then there were no more glances; no more shivering. Hot lips covered hers. Strong arms wrapped around her. As his lips moved against hers, one hand slid down her back. She wouldn’t have thought they could get any closer; until he slid a hand past the curve of her waist to her derriere and tugged her snug against him.

  She groaned, tilting her head back to gasp for breath. He didn’t stop, but nibbled down her chin to her throat. Everywhere he touched, the heat rose by leaps and bounds. He captured her lips again, taking the breath from her body and replacing it with liquid fire.

  The towel provided little protection against his growing desire, and Bri was helpless to stop his advances. His hand slid down her bottom and touched the bare skin of her thigh. His hips jerked and he groaned; she bit his bottom lip in reflex.

  As quickly as their desire had ignited, he squelched it. Taking her by the shoulders, he pushed her away.

  “No.” The single word from deep in his throat spoke volumes. His hands dropped to his sides. He avoided her gaze as he turned and walked to the door.

  Bri didn’t want him to leave, but didn’t know how to keep him there. How could he just walk away and leave her aching for his touch? Confused emotions had her lashing out in frustration. “So that is what I must pay to continue to sleep in this bed?”

  He stopped with his hand on the doorknob and slowly shook his head. “I would never ask that. If you come to my bed, it will be of free will and mutual pleasure.”

  “You can ensure that pleasure?”

  He gave her a slow, sexy smile. “I may be inadequate at many things, but that is not one of them.”

  Chapter 7

  He’s hiding something; I’m sure of it. I’ve ransacked the stateroom and found nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, I’ve found nothing at all that indicates a real person lives here, and that is what’s so strange. Even if the stateroom isn’t a real home; even if everyone aboard is in transit, people still have things; artifacts that if left behind, signify they have been here. That’s why excavating the Arabia was so important. They were trying to understand the people of the 1800’s. From what I’ve gathered, Jake has no home other than aboard the steamer, and no personal effects other than some clothes and the pocket watch I’ve seen, which hardly define a man.

  Bri had never considered herself claustrophobic but the cabin was small and she wasn’t used to inactivity. She reached for the water pitcher then eyed the privacy screen that hid the chamber pot. Her intake of liquids had dropped dramatically. The harsh reality of life in 1856 was not at all like the romantically written novels she had read in her teens. She was still not comfortable using a chamber pot, especially when she had to bunch a long dress and three petticoats up around her hips.

  She sighed, turning to pace the confined space between the small window and the bed. The aforementioned clothing tangled around her legs with her long stride. She seriously contemplated taking off the petticoats and dress and putting on her old pants and sweater. But she was afraid Jake would return in the midst of changing. He had seen her naked one too many times and it couldn’t happen again. The sparks flew between them whenever he was in close proximity and she didn’t want him to think she was interested.

  Even though she was interested. There was a physical attraction that she couldn’t deny. His dark good looks were one thing, and the way he filled out his coat with broad shoulders and a wide, solid chest had her heart thumping. But something more pulled at her. He claimed a disinterest in the human race. He was sullen, withdrawn, and mysterious and she couldn’t help but wonder at his secrets.

  At the moment, though, it wasn’t his secrets that got to her. It was the kiss they had shared. There had been nothing reluctant about that kiss. It had seared her lips and sizzled her blood clear down to her toes and it hadn’t been one sided. He had taken and she had freely given. But when she had wanted to take the next step; indeed had brazenly moved closer, he had been the one to step away. She should be content that he had been smarter than she. After all, she had told herself not to get involved, not to fit into life in 1856 for it wasn’t her place.

  Her daydream was interrupted by the sudden silence. It was funny how the lack of sound could be deafening. The huge boilers that created steam to turn the paddlewheel had gradually quieted as the steamboat slowed. All she could hear was the pounding rain. Earlier that morning they had still been cautiously maneuvering upstream but as the rain became a deluge, she had felt the movement of the boat slow.

  Jake opened the door and stood just inside, as though afraid to come too close. Even at a distance she could feel a sizzle between them, but Bri pushed that aside as she took a good look at him. Water dripped from his hair and the caped shoulders of his coat. As she watched, he ran his fingers through is hair, leaving it sticking on end. There were deep lines around his eyes, his mouth and a dark shadow along his jaw. She wondered if he had slept at all, since she hadn’t seen him in almost a day—ever since that kiss.

  “I have only returned long enough to tell you the Captain has ordered the Arabia tied to the banks of the river to ride out the storm. Even with watchers at forward points of the boat poking long poles at floating debris, wickedly sharp and twisted tree branches can create dangerous hazards, especially when visibility is next to zero.”

  Having delivered his speech, he adjusted his coat and ran a hand through his hair yet again, which did nothing to smooth the wayward locks. Bri though he looked adorably sexy until he spoke again.

  “Stay put,” he admonished as he left, but for once she didn’t hear the key turn in the lock.

  Bri could almost laugh, knowing what she did about the future of the Arabia. She knew the time wasn’t right and the Arabia would be safe, for now; at least according to history. Actually the delay could be a very good thing. If the Arabia stopped more than it should, it wouldn’t keep to its schedule. That meant it wouldn’t be in Parkville on September 5th, and therefore wouldn’t strike a snag and sink.

  She slapped a hand to her forehead with a groan. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” She had no way of knowing what happened days prior to the sinking. If this was a new delay and not part of the original history; if the Arabia didn’t cross paths with the tree snag and sink, she wouldn’t have been excavating it and wouldn’t have traveled through time. Or would she? Could something else have caused the experience? Her head hurt from going in circles, trying to sort through the what ifs of her situation.

  She paused in her pacing at the window to see the rain had dissipated somewhat, so she grabbed a shawl to venture outside. She could stay relatively dry if she huddled close to the wall of the promenade and felt that would be considered staying put. At least the hurricane deck had an overhang. The sky was as gray as she felt; the air heavy and oppressive. Without a watch she had last track of time, but thought it to be toward dusk. Because of the rain, they wouldn’t make a town port tonight and would be stuck at the side of the river in the middle of nowhere. She laughed at the incongruity of her thought, as she had felt in the middle of nowhere since she first popped up on the Arabia.

  Noise from the decks below pulled her from her thoughts to peek over the railing. With the steamboat built somewhat like a wedding cake with each tier slightly smaller than the one below, she could see past the boiler deck to the main deck, where the passengers had been herded on like so much cattle. The little space not crammed full of cargo now held bodies huddled under scraps of tarp at best, and most times nothing. Politeness was forgotten on days like this and it was every man – or woman or child – for himself.

  Bri felt sorry for the families she saw trying to find shelter against the rain. She seriously thoug
ht about bringing the ones with small children up to the stateroom, providing a temporary haven, then recalled Jake’s anger when she had offered Maggie and the children breakfast. He hadn’t actually kicked the poor woman out, much to Bri’s relief, but the incident had led to an argument and he had stormed out of the cabin for more than a day.

  She had started to panic, not knowing where he was or if he would return. Like it or not, she needed him. And then he had returned and kissed her, and she discovered she needed him in an entirely different way. She couldn’t say for sure if that was better or worse.

  She looked toward the shore, barely visible through the haze of rain. The captain wasn’t about to let his crew sit by idly as the rain came down. A gangplank of sorts had been laid from the main deck to the shore. Several men were hauling logs aboard that would be burned for steam.

  The boat lurched suddenly. Bri grabbed the railing to keep from being flung over. Rain pelted her face as the wind changed direction, blowing the water at her in a stinging spray. The walkway dropped out from under her as the boat dipped and pitched. She clung to the railing for dear life. A bell clanged from above, followed quickly be others sounding from the front and rear of the boat.

  Deck hands scurried past her without stopping. She grabbed one young man by the arm.

  “What’s going on?”

  “She’s loose from her moorings,” he shouted above the wind as he hurried on.

  What did that mean? Bri wondered but when the boat pitched forward again and people below began screaming, she didn’t need more of a definition. They were rapidly moving downstream with the current, and without the boilers at full steam, the paddlewheel was useless. Hanging tightly to the railing, she made her way, hand over hand, to the stairs.

  “Dammed skirts,” she mumbled as she grabbed a handful of sodden fabric, hiking it to her knees as she stumbled down the stairs. Had there really been a bad storm back in 1856 before that fateful day in September? Or was history being rewritten because her presence disrupted the original order of things? She had no way of knowing. If the steamer kept to its original course, she would sink in the middle of the river at Parkville. If it crashed against the bank here, she would probably drown. Neither prospect was appealing.

  When she rounded the last set of stairs onto the main deck, chaos reigned. The passengers here had no railing to keep the waves from washing over the side. Only a loosely tied rope from pillar to pillar kept the sliding cargo from tumbling into the river. Though Bri tried to stay close to the inside wall, so many people huddled there she finally had to grab the rough hemp rope to keep herself balanced. She could hear the engines now and the steamboat didn’t feel as though it pitched quite as much, but she knew it would take more to stabilize it.

  “Help me, please. Someone help.”

  Bri squinted through the rain to where she saw a woman crouched beside a small boy. She scanned the sea of faces on the deck but everyone was holding tight to pillars and their belongings, looking everywhere but at the woman who needed help. So she grabbed hold of people who held on to the posts and cautiously made her way to the little boy.

  “Ow, mama, it hurts.”

  Bri squatted by the little boy, whose arm was wedged between the wall and a large barrel. She brushed his hair back from huge brown eyes, liquid with tears.

  “Hi, my name is Brianna. What’s yours?”

  He sniffled, wiping his nose with his free arm. “Ben,” he whispered, his chin quivering. “Are you an angel?”

  She smiled. “No, but maybe I can help you anyway.” She gave the mother a questioning look.

  “We were trying to hold on and the barrel shifted.”

  Bri nodded and stood, balancing herself with one hand on the barrel and the other on the wall. It took a minute to realize the boat wasn’t swaying as crazily as before, although it was by no means stationery. There was a pile of fuel timber on the opposite side of the barrel so she knew she couldn’t get it to roll that way.

  “I’m going to pull from the front,” she said to the mother, “and you tug him out when his arm gets loose.” Without waiting, Bri grabbed the indented rim of the barrel and tugged. It didn’t budge. It was too large to get her arms around so she moved to the side and tried to push it without success.

  She needed leverage. The mother clearly wouldn’t be much help as she just sat beside her son, awkwardly patting his leg.

  “Ben, can you scoot forward, just a little, and put your other arm around the barrel like you’re hugging it?” The only way she could move it was to get behind it, put her back against the wall and push but it didn’t budge. She squeezed her eyes tight and pushed with all her might. This time, the barrel moved so quickly she lost her balance and dropped to her knees. She whipped her drenched hair back from her face, and then shook her stinging hand. Small splinters from the rough wood barrel had punctured her palm. Strong hands grabbed her at the elbows and roughly pulled her up.

  “Are you crazy?” Jake’s angry green gaze heated the air between them into steam.

  She had to lay her hands on his chest to steady herself. Even through his coat, she could feel his heart pounding.

  “Did you move the barrel?” She asked. “Did you help?”

  His answer was to deepen his scowl.

  She gave him a watery smile. “Of course, you did.”

  “Why are you out here?” He shook her but what Bri felt was the quiver in his touch.

  “People needed help.” It was the only answer she could give.

  “So? You put your own life in jeopardy to help people you don’t even know?” He sounded so aggravated. She couldn’t understand his lack of acknowledgement of the concerns of others; of family. She had always gravitated towards children. Perhaps it was because she wanted a family of her own. Even though she forced him into helping at times, he certainly didn’t appear to care about these people. In fact, he didn’t seem to give a damn about anyone. Sometimes, she thought, even about himself. That notion made her shiver.

  “You’re cold.” He shrugged out of his coat.

  “No, it’s okay.” She backed away from him.

  “Brianna, don’t be so stubborn.”

  She gasped when his warm hands grazed her neck as he pulled the coat snug. His gaze caught hers and she glimpsed something indefinable and dangerous in the sea green depths. Regardless of the rain, which had slowed to a drizzle but continued to drench them, a warm fuzzy feeling uncurled in her stomach again.

  He lifted a hand and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered, his thumb brushing her trembling lips. Her shivering stopped instantly to be replaced by a fluttering of an entirely different kind.

  “What have you done to me?” There was confusion in his voice; in his gaze, just before his lips met hers. The kiss was brief, a tender touch of the lips that left Bri hungry for more. His hand tightened on her neck, just as something yanked at her skirts.

  She looked down to see Ben standing close, his arm cradled against his chest. “It hurts, Miss Brianna.”

  So much for the moment, Bri thought, as she knelt beside the little boy. There was a bump and she wondered if the arm was broken. She looked up at where Jake stood, the perpetual scowl on his face. “We must help him,” she begged.

  “I’m no doctor,” he growled in reply.

  Bri’s eyes widened at his gruffness. What was it, she wondered, that always had him reacting in anger, especially around children? Although the rain had lessened, they were still getting wet and she was fed up with it, and his attitude.

  “Fine, I’ll do it myself.” She stooped and tried to lift Ben but he was too heavy. “Jump,” she said helpfully as she grabbed him under the arms. He tried but then started crying as he held his arm again.

  “For the love of God.” Jake sighed as he moved her out of the way and effortlessly picked the child up. He headed for the stairs, then stopped and kicked at a loose piece of wood on the deck. “Pick that up.” Without looking to see if she complied, he con
tinued up the stairs, walking swiftly. He didn’t want to be doing this, so the quicker it was over the better.

  The mother followed Brianna into the cabin and shut the door behind her. Ignoring the boy’s wet attire Jake laid him on the bed. He shrugged out of his sodden coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

  “Get out one of your dry petticoats and tear some strips,” he ordered as he poured water into the basin. “It’s not as if you don’t have enough of them,” he muttered as he washed his hands.

  “I heard that.”

  “Break that board in half.” He decided now wasn’t the time for commentary. Don’t think, he told himself, just get it done.

  He heard a grunt and a soft curse as she tried to break the board. He knew before he turned that she hadn’t accomplished it.

  Shaking his head, he took it from her and quickly popped it over his knee. He then snapped off a few jagged edges and held it to the boy’s arm to check the length. Jake slid his large hand along the child’s skinny little arm, but he didn’t utter a sound.

  Brianna and the mother managed to tear her petticoat ruffle into long strips. Jake took one strip and wrapped it around the board, which he had scrubbed down and dried off.

  “All right, little boy, we’re going to fix your arm.” He sat on the edge of the bed.

  “His name is Ben,” Brianna said quietly.

  Of course she would know his name. She probably knew everyone on board by now.

  He wanted to ignore her, but when he looked into the boy’s eyes, wide as saucers, something forgotten welled up in his chest.

  “Ben,” he repeated. “Your mother and Miss Brianna are going to sit with you and hold you because this is going to hurt for just a few minutes. Do you understand?”

  Ben nodded solemnly.

  Jake looked from the mother to Brianna and they both climbed onto the bed, wet clothes and all. Ben’s mother put his head in her lap, brushing the hair from his brow. Bri looked to Jake for guidance, and he took her hand and placed it on Ben’s arm. As quietly as he could, he spoke to her.