Dawson Bride (Wolf Brides Book 3)

by T. S. Joyce

  I let my hand hang there in midair. It wasn’t uncommon for gentlemen to kiss the back of my hand in greeting, but this was different. This moment that came and passed in the blink of an eye was the most intimate of my life. Even more so than when he raked his eyes over my bare skin minutes ago. Tiny needles rose and fell on the skin where his lips touched it. I ran a fingertip over the smoothness there and clutched it to my chest.

  Ralston had been murderously vengeful when I angered him. It was a base instinct that came from the most primal parts of his hardened soul. If something angered him, he snuffed that imperfection right out of his life by bleeding it. It was awful and sickening what he’d taken away from me in a gentleman’s temper tantrum, but it was black and white. Cut and clear.

  With Gable, I didn’t understand his reactions. He was overly honest with some things and shared nothing of other parts of his life for reasons I couldn’t fathom. I ran a thumb absently over and over the palm of my hand.

  If this was his reaction when he was put off by something I’d done, I would really have to try and irritate him more often.

  Chapter Six

  Lucianna

  The sounds of the streets outside were what woke me up just as the first lights of morning graced the tops of the cluttered rows of buildings. The streets were narrow and cobbled, and the clatter of horses upon them and men fighting and yelling for space to steer their carts, was enough to wake the dead.

  Gable lay tensed and twitching on the floor beside me and when I leaned over and tried to wake him from his bad dream, he shot up and grabbed my wrist in a move so fast, I didn’t see it. One moment he was sleeping beneath me and the next, he was crushing the frail bones in my arm with the most terrifying look in his eyes.

  “You’re hurting me,” I breathed.

  “Luc?” He blinked and scanned the room. His hand released its iron grip and I rubbed my wrist like it would make the ache better somehow. “I thought…I thought I was somewhere else.”

  “Where?”

  He frowned at the leg of the bed. “The woods. Get dressed.”

  He didn’t seem to be much of a morning person. I’d always liked to get up with the dawn and start my day, but some people didn’t feel the same. From the way he grumbled as he splashed water over his face, I thought Gable Dawson was one of those people.

  The shift I wore was soft against my skin, but the entirety of my body itched and was covered in little raised bumps. “I’ve been bitten!”

  He slid a glance to me and nodded at the bed. “You probably slept with a hundred critters in there last night.”

  “Ahh!” I yelped unbecomingly. I flew from the bed and wiped my skin off as best I could. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I thought you saw them. They were crawling all over the covers when we came in last night.”

  “Oh. I guess I was too tired to notice.” I squinted at the covers. In fact, I still couldn’t see them.

  Gable leaned against the washbasin table and the muscles in his arms flexed as he gripped the side. “Woman, if you don’t put your dadburned dress on, I’m breaking two of your three rules in about thirty seconds.”

  My shift really was too thin to wear in front of Gable. Or anyone really, including small mammals. I snatched the hideous dress and slipped into it. Gable dried his face and gave me a lovely profile of his bare torso. Steel rippled just below his skin and ridges of muscle bunched over his ribs and stomach as he dried his face. I sat on the squeaky bed and ogled him while absently pulling my shoes on. Was his stomach as hard as it looked?

  “Lucianna?” he said in an irritated voice to match his disapproving frown.

  “Hmmm?”

  He stared, dark eyebrow cocked. “The bugs.”

  “Oh!” I slid from the bed and dusted my bottom. “Right. Very well then. I’m ready whenever you are. To be on our way, that is.”

  He twisted toward me and dried his hands, and the towel hid just enough to make me patiently wait for a glimpse of more. When I lifted my gaze to his, the corner of his mouth had turned up in a crooked smile under his full beard.

  I lifted my chin primly and spun around. When he was finished dressing I hobbled behind him outside to the post where the horse was tied. Barney hadn’t, in fact, died during the night of old age and instead had waited patiently for our return.

  “You keep lookin’ at him like that, you’re going to hurt his feelings,” Gable said as he tucked the nearly empty canvas sack into one of the saddle bags. “Here.” In his outstretched hand was a sloshing canteen of water.

  I drank deeply and handed it back. After he’d hoisted me split-legged into the saddle, he untied Barney and led us down the narrow stone road to the edge of town. From time to time, I’d been known to overthink things slightly, and now was no different. What did it mean that he didn’t want to ride on the horse behind me? Or that he didn’t talk for the entire trip to Liverpool? Perhaps I’d made him mad last night after all. But then why did he smile at me anytime he caught me staring?

  The man was an enigma.

  The ride took longer than the few promised hours because Gable let Barney snatch a mouth full of grass from the side of the road whenever he got the urge. My imaginings of Gable as being a demon the night he’d saved me were almost laughable. A horse wouldn’t show such devotion to an evil man.

  I hadn’t been to Liverpool since I was a child on a trip with my parents. It had changed drastically from my schoolgirl memories. New buildings had sprung up on nearly every street and as we walked the sloping roads through rows of brown brick buildings and quaint homes, it struck me that I was leaving home for a country I’d vowed never to live or even visit. Would this be my last time on English soil? A deep sadness washed through me as a darkness filled the rest of the pieces of me that hadn’t been hurt in the attack. The pieces of me that had stood strong and given me a voice in the face of such a trying time. I was losing myself. My family was all gone and now my country would be too. I’d turn into something I didn’t recognize. Nothing was left of my old life, and the loss was a solid weight against my shoulders.

  The air was filled with salt and sea and as we drew closer to the shopping district, I could almost make out the sound of the ocean. A chill remained in the air, but Gable had been right. I became used to it somewhere on the road between Doc’s quiet home and here. The hustle and bustle of masses of people became denser the closer to port we traveled. Markets selling wares and food, and men hauling carts of goods behind great, barrel-chested horses filled the streets. Everywhere I turned, men carried huge sacks to be delivered to the ships that waited silently at port for their next sea adventure. My boat, the Anna Gale, was probably waiting out there in the lapping Atlantic waters right now.

  At a small stable, Gable pulled my waist and lifted me slowly until I could bear weight on the bad hip. He leaned forward until my cheek was against his chest and pulled the gnarled cane from the saddle bags.

  “You buy horses?” he asked a filthy stable boy.

  “Yes, sir.” He jerked his head toward the sloped road that led to port. “Make a good business on selling to the immigrants who get off the ships.”

  “How much?” Gable asked.

  The boy ran a hand over the shoulders and withers of Barney and pulled his lips away from dirty teeth. While they negotiated, I braved a gentle pet to the horse’s neck. “Thanks for getting us here safely, old chum. And for not biting me.”

  His soft brown eyes studied me seriously before the stable boy led him to a tie post filled with other horses.

  “Did we have to sell him?” I asked as Gable led me through the cluttered street.

  “Yes. He wouldn’t last the boat ride. The Anna Gale isn’t set up for carrying livestock.”

  “How do you know so much about the ship?”

  “It was the same one I came over the Atlantic on. And with a little luck, she’s still run by the same captain.”

  “You don’t know for certain who will be taking me acro
ss the ocean?” All right, I was starting to panic a little.

  “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

  We weaved in and out of the rushing crowd until we came to an ale house. A stacked row of fat, white chickens clucked away in wooden cages out front, and a dog sat tied to a lantern post. It growled and snarled viciously, and I pulled away with a ready scream. Gable threw the animal a narrow-eyed glare and said something deep in his throat that didn’t quite reach my ears. The aggression left the dog immediately, and his tail tucked between his legs.

  “Come on,” he said.

  “I’m not going in there. It says men only on the sign.”

  He arched an eyebrow significantly at a whore who bustled past us and into the fine establishment.

  “Well, I’m not some saloon girl,” I grumbled, but let him pull me anyway.

  Inside, the mass of bodies was overwhelming. Every table was taken up with drinking, stinking, cursing men and cigar smoke clung to the air like a fog. I held the back of my hand delicately over my nose to try and chase away the stench of unwashed man as Gable scanned the ruffian crowd. His gaze settled on a dark-haired man in the corner. His hair was long and straight and he wore some kind of printed cloth around his head. His beard had been shaved into a curious curving pattern and his dark eyes danced merrily across the bosoms of the women who hung all over him.

  Gable slammed his hand against the table in front of him and everyone within earshot froze. The man seemed startled into stillness for a moment before a genuine grin spread across the entirety of his face. Gable was smiling too and the man jumped up and clapped him on the back.

  The man’s accent was thick and from a language I hadn’t a guess at. “My friend, I thought I’d never see the likes of you again. What are you doing here?”

  Gable leaned forward. “Need a word in private, if you don’t mind.”

  “Come.” He led us to a storage room in back stacked with casks of cheap whiskey.

  “Kelley,” Gable said. “This is my woman.” He gestured to me. “This is Captain Kelley.”

  Kelley’s dark eyes hardened. “Does your woman have a name?”

  “No.”

  “I see. You need a favor then.”

  “Same favor as last time but she needs to make it to Boston Harbor, too.”

  The exotic looking man frowned and crossed his arms. “How’d you know I’d be in port today, Mr. Dawson?”

  “You were always my backup plan for escape, Kelley. You’re the best.”

  “Mmm.” He said it carefully, but his eyes twinkled with the compliment. He ran a glance over me like he was sizing up livestock. “The Anna Gale isn’t set up to transport people and especially not ladies. It would be quite an inconvenience on my part to keep her safe, if you get my meaning.”

  “Give him the ring,” Gable said.

  “The ring? But I thought you said not until we get to Boston.”

  “The ring,” he repeated. After I handed it to him, he told Kelley, “You can’t sell this on British soil, my friend. It’ll bring harm to everyone it touches.”

  He held the glistening diamond up to the dusty light and nodded. “Is it cursed?”

  “You know I don’t know nothin’ about curses. It’ll just lead a bad man to her. And he’ll plow right through anyone in his way, you catch my drift?”

  “That I can deal with. Fine. I’ll ship your goods safely to Boston Harbor. We take on cargo at dark in the same place we dropped you off the first time. Now, go put a good meal in your woman. It’s hard tack from here on out,” he sang as he left the room.

  I hadn’t any idea what hard tack was but it sounded inedible. My hands shook more with every hour that passed and brought me closer to separation from Gable. I hadn’t known him long, and we hadn’t spent much time together while I was healing at Doc’s house, but I felt a connection I couldn’t explain. Maybe it was that he called me his woman with such confidence, or perhaps it was because he was working so hard to keep me safe. Maybe it was this innate instinct that told me he was the kind of honorable man who’d throw himself in front of a bullet to spare me more pain. Whatever it was, I didn’t look forward to boarding the boat without him. My clinging attachment to the near stranger was unsettling, to say the least.

  The streets had only become busier with our short absence and the crowd pressed in all around us until I’d surely suffocate. Gable led me to a row of canvas covered tents that housed patrons selling small wares. The store at the end sold a variety of breads, pastries, and meats to the passersby. He ordered enough to fill a small sack and pointed me toward a stone ledge overlooking the port and out of the way of foot traffic.

  The air was thick with the smell of fish and brine and the moist wind lifted a lock of my hair that had fallen from its pins. I fastened it under the bonnet and glanced around to see if anyone had seen the fair tress. Would I ever get over the paranoia of being watched and hunted? Gable patted my leg and I settled. The only place I had a chance of it would be in his town in the country, an ocean away from everything I’d ever known.

  It was so peaceful here on the wall with my feet dangling lazily in the breeze. The clatter of human activity hummed behind us, and the sound of waves and sea birds sounded in front—two great forces colliding over the weather-beaten shore. The boats that lined the imposing docks were enormous and I scanned the names to try and find the Anna Gale. None were my boat.

  Wooden planks attached the boats to land and swayed with the waves while sea men clambered aboard carrying supplies and cargo. One man was carrying a woman over his shoulder like a sack of beans. I frowned. “Why wasn’t Captain Kelley helping load his ship? If we’re meant to sail tonight, what is he doing in a whore house?” I asked.

  “The Anna Gale isn’t a merchant ship. She doesn’t take as long to load.”

  “Oh.” I bit into my braided pesto bread. It was easily the best thing I’d eaten in as long as I could remember.

  Passengers lined up to board a ship and signed their names to a ledger on the dock. A man in glasses and a funny black hat smiled and talked to them as they added their names to ship’s rosters. Children, wild with excitement ran up and down the planks and harried mothers and fathers reprimanded them. Their antics lightened the weight on my heart. If children could make the journey, then so could I.

  Crumbs flew from the fabric of my dress as I fluffed it, and filled to the brim, I handed Gable my last wooden skewer of pork, which he ate void of hesitation. He wore a thin red shirt under a threadbare vest with a black hat that boasted a small brim. Even bearded and in a pauper’s clothes he was alluring. His height and breadth of shoulder said he hadn’t missed a meal in his life. I’d seen how people looked at him. Some crossed the thin streets to escape his path, while others openly stared. Whatever the reaction, the man undeniably drew people’s attention.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked.

  His brows drew down in confusion. “Because you’re my woman.”

  “Yes but what benefit does that give you? You’ll never marry me. You don’t have an intimate relationship with me. Why risk your life on a woman you barely know?”

  He was quiet for a long time. So long that I thought he wouldn’t answer. I leaned back on my locked arms and lost myself in the deep blue of the sea.

  “If something happened to you, it would hurt.” He placed his hand over his chest and inhaled deeply. Honesty crept into every syllable. “I don’t care about that other stuff right now as long as you exist.” He leaned forward on hands that gripped the edge of the wall and looked away.

  My insides churned. I knew what he meant. If something happened to him, I’d break too. I didn’t know him very well but that didn’t matter. Even in his confusing way of explaining feelings, I understood. I saw him.

  “Swear to me you’ll be careful,” I said. If he was getting to America by means that weren’t safe for me, I wasn’t at all confident he wouldn’t get hurt in his travels, or worse.

  “You w
orried about me?”

  I stood and brushed sand and dust from my skirts. “No, but it would be terribly awkward if I showed up to your parents’ house without you.”

  He offered his arm and we strolled slowly toward the make-shift shopping district near port. Offered at the market were any and all supplies one could need for any length of journey. Gable assured me food would be taken care of, but he bought enough breads, cakes, and smoked meats to last until they started to rot. Enough food to binge for a week and a half. He pressed the food gently into a large canvas sack and hefted it over his shoulder. Next he paid for a small looking glass I’d taken a fancy to, a sewing kit, a bar of rose soap, and a large knife tucked into an animal hide sheath. The last one bothered me, but I suppose it was a wise idea for me to carry some sort of defensive weapon on a ship full of sailors. The handle lay limply in my hand and he pulled me to the side of the street and gave me a quick lesson on the finer points of stabbing someone. I imagined Ralston at the end of my blade.

  Gable pressed a small coin purse of money into the palm of my hand. “Use this to get you to the address I gave you when you get to Boston Harbor. Don’t wait for me at port. I’ll meet you at the house.”

  I pushed the small cache into my hidden pocket with shaking fingers. The rest of my trinkets along with the knife fit into one of my big pockets. Admittedly, the comforting weight of the blade did make me feel safer.

  Two small boys begged coins from Gable and he leaned down and pulled a shilling from behind one’s ear like magic. He grinned at me when they asked him to do it again and handed the coin back. I laughed and continued looking at the tables of offered goods.

  “Lucianna?” a woman asked.

  Automatically from a habit of answering to my name since birth, I looked up to find Mrs. Tabernathy, lifelong friend to Mother, waving frantically to me. Gable was nowhere to be found and my heart pounded as I searched for an escape. I backed up and into the considerable weight of Mr. Tabernathy.

  “It is you,” he said. “Sarah swore up and down it was you but I told her she was seeing ghosts again.” He grabbed my escaping shoulder. “My dear, everyone thinks you’re dead.”