by Wendy Vella
Cam, who was also watching the scene, nodded. “I believe we do, Dev. Not entirely sure I know why I like him, but strangely I do. Although considering what he has on his back, perhaps it’s respect for his survival.”
Essie remembered the feel of those scars lacing Max’s back, each welt deep and formed many years ago. They had been inflicted in rage, she had no doubt.
“What does he have on his back?”
“Welts,” Cam hissed. “Hundreds of them, and Essie believes he received them as a child.”
The men were moving in on Max, Essie could feel her fear escalate. “I taste danger.”
“I can smell it in the air,” Cam said softly.
“Damn,” Dev whispered. “You,” he pointed at Essie, “don’t move!”
She watched as Dev and Cam ran down the gangway and along the dock. Lifting her skirts, Essie pulled out her pistol and followed.
“Where is he, Hoyt? I know he’s here, because I had word last night. I also know you beat him almost senseless when he was too ill to work.”
“I own the boy, Huntington, so get off my ship!”
Big, with a bloated belly, Captain Hoyt was a man who wielded authority with a fist. Word had come from another cabin boy that a lad named Tiny was on board and in a bad way. Max had come to collect him as soon as he could.
“I’ll pay you for him.”
Greed was a currency men like Hoyt understood.
“Take your do-gooding ass off my ship, Huntington, I have no need of your interference. The boys understand the order of things on board, and Tiny is no different.”
Max looked to the sailors at Captain Hoyt’s back. They would do as their master directed because they wanted to keep their positions. But he was sure a few of them had received the same treatment as Tiny at some stage.
“I’m not leaving without him.”
Max braced his legs and tensed, readying himself for what was to come. His pistol was tucked in his boot, and if he’d been thinking clearly, he’d have it in his hand by now. But bending to get it would signal his intent. They would likely beat him senseless, as he was outnumbered, but he’d inflict a few bruises himself first. He’d been foolish to come without his men. The problem was, he’d slept badly, thinking about Essie, dreaming of her lying beside him, on top of him, and every other scenario that had him hard, and as a consequence, he hadn’t been thinking clearly. Something else he rarely did. That woman was messing with the order of things. Max didn’t get distracted; his life was on a set course, and he wanted no deviation.
“Then we’ll be throwing your body off when we’re done with it.”
Captain Hoyt bared his teeth. Max wasn’t worried; he’d taken beatings before. What concerned him most was that below the decks was a boy who lay suffering somewhere, and no one but he cared if Tiny lived or died.
“I’ll be leaving with the boy, Hoyt.” Max deliberately left out the word captain to infuriate the man.
“Captain Hoyt!”
Max braced himself as the burly seamen began to advance.
“Need a hand, Huntington?”
He turned, and saw the Sinclair brothers had arrived on deck.
“This is no place for the likes of soft noblemen,” Max said as he once again looked at the sailors. He did not want Essie’s brothers injured because of him. She had enough to hate him for already, without adding to the tally.
“I’m not entirely sure I like what you are inferring, Huntington.”
Max didn’t turn at Lord Sinclair’s words. The fight was about to begin, and he was more than ready.
“No indeed. Nothing soft about either of us, brother.”
Max only had time to grunt at Cambridge Sinclair’s words, as the first sailor was swinging a fist at him.
The fight was dirty, and he could spare no time to look at the brothers, but when he did catch a glimpse from the corner of his eyes, they were acquitting themselves well, using their feet and fists. They fought dirty like him, much to his surprise.
“You’ll all stop now!”
Max ducked a fist, then turned to see Essie standing on a crate.
“Get off this boat, woman!”
Ignoring him, she aimed the pistol in her hand at the captain, who had not entered the fray, but stood to one side watching.
“Stop them now or I shoot, and I assure you I am accurate.”
“Stop!”
Max hauled in a breath as the man he was fighting backed away. He then stalked to where Essie stood.
“What the bloody hell did you think you were doing, boarding his ship! Anything could have happened to you, Essex. These men do not have the same code of honor your precious, soft-bellied nobles do!”
He reached up and grabbed her around the waist, then lowered her to the ground. Taking the pistol from her hands, he shoved it into his pocket.
“Give that back,” she demanded.
“I had no idea you were still carrying that about.” Lord Sinclair moved to Max’s side to scowl down at his sister.
“Of course I carry it. When I visit sick people in less desirable areas, I take it with me.”
Max pulled out his pistol, happy that her brother was taking Essie to task for her reckless behavior.
“What undesirable areas are you frequenting alone?”
Max heard Essie curse, and thought any of these sailors would be happy with that word in their vocabulary. Shaking his head, he moved to where Captain Hoyt still stood and pointed the gun at his head.
“You and your men stand over there.” He pointed to the bow.
“Mr. Sinclair, do you have a gun?”
“I do, and must object to being called soft-bellied, Huntington, when we just saved you from a severe beating.”
Max looked at the man’s torn shirt and jacket. He bore several marks from the mill they had just participated in. His smile suggested he had enjoyed it.
“Apologies, I stand corrected, and will add that not all noblemen are soft-bellied as I had once believed. Forgive me also for speaking to your sister thus.”
“Think nothing of it.” The eldest Sinclair joined his brother. “She deserved it, but the problem is, Huntington, I’ve delivered her such lectures multiple times with very little success, so you really were just wasting your breath.”
Max didn’t have time to discuss the matter further, nor the cavalier way Essie’s brothers were dismissing her behavior. He had a boy to rescue.
“I would be grateful if you would hold off the men while I retrieve someone, then we shall leave.”
“Of course.” Lord Sinclair pulled a pistol from his waistband.
“Do all Sinclairs wear arms?” Max had to ask.
“I had not realized my sister felt a need to until today.” Lord Sinclair threw a scowl over his shoulder. “But I will address that matter at a more convenient time.”
Max heard Essie mumble something that sounded like, “Oh no, you will not.”
“Tell me where the boy is, Hoyt.” Max moved to stand before the captain, and pressed his pistol into his soft belly. “Now,” he said softly.
“He is below,” Devonshire Sinclair said.
Looking into Lord Sinclair’s eyes, Max saw his pupils had dilated.
“How do you know that?”
“Go now, the boy is in a bad way,” Sinclair urged Max.
“His injuries were self-inflicted,” Captain Hoyt said.
“I doubt that.” Max punched him in the stomach. “That one is for Tiny.” He started for the door that would take him below.
“I’ll come.”
“No.” Max did not look at Essie.
“If the boy is hurt, then he may need tending before you bring him up.”
“You are not coming, and there will be nothing further said on the matter,” Max growled with more force than he should to a lady, even if she had shown no fear and pointed a pistol at a group of sailors. Max refused to be proud of her behavior.
He knew ships, as he’d grown up on them, k
new the layout, as he’d walked every inch of several, and then his own. The memories washed through him as he opened the door and started to descend the narrow steps. Some good, others bad, and some too dark to allow himself to remember.
“It is so narrow.”
Closing his eyes briefly, Max braced a hand on the wall as he reached the bottom. He turned to see Essie behind him.
“I told you to stay on the deck.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I’ve never been very good at following orders.”
He wanted to snarl and look mean, just to show her how angry he was, but instead he found himself smiling. He moved to the last step as she reached a few above. Her bonnet was lavender velvet, as was her spencer today, and she looked so bloody sweet he couldn’t stop himself leaning in and inhaling her scent.
“You need to go back up those stairs, Essex.”
“I am not here for you, but that boy.” She glared down at him.
“Don’t be foolish. This is no place for you. Now leave at once.” Max ran his eyes over her delicate features, the line of her nose, and soft upper lip.
“We are wasting time.”
“So be it, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I think we’ve established I am no lady, Mr. Huntington.”
He had turned away, but her words had him swinging back again. “You think what happened between us makes you less of a lady?”
She dropped her eyes. “It matters not. Please lead the way.”
There were so many words he should have said right then. Like, I am in the wrong and a coward, and God you’re beautiful, and I want to lay you down and lose myself in your lush body, but all he managed was. “You will always be a lady, Essex Sinclair.”
Max then took her hand in his, because he needed to keep her tethered to his side in case she did another foolish thing, but really it was to feel her small fingers in his larger ones.
“This won’t be pleasant.”
“I know, but then I’ve seen a great deal of unpleasant in my life.”
“What have you seen?”
She waved his words away in favor of her own.
“Were you a cabin boy, Mr. Huntington?”
“Yes.” The word was pulled from him. The memories, however, he blocked.
“Are the memories painful?”
They were descending again, Max in front, in case she fell. Thankfully she could not see his face.
“No.”
Her hand rested on his shoulder, and in that simple gesture he found solace, if only briefly, from the darkness inside him.
“Brace yourself,” Max said as he opened a door.
Hammocks hung everywhere, and the scent of sweat and other body odors was strong as he entered with Essie behind him. He felt her pressing close to his back, but she said nothing. Here were more memories, of nights spent praying that daylight would not bring another thrashing.
Max found Tiny huddled in his hammock, curled in on himself, no doubt to try and fight the agony he was suffering. His breathing was ragged.
“Tiny.” Max leaned over him. “You’re safe now, boy.”
Essie moved to the other side to look at him.
“I’m taking you away from here.”
The boy lifted his head, and pain was etched in his face as he tried to focus through bruised and swollen eyelids.
“Tiny, my name is Essie. Will you let me look at you, dear?”
Her voice softened, as it always did when she treated children. Max called it her soothing voice. She’d used it on him that night her lovely body had warmed him.
“You’ve had a horrid time of things, Tiny, but that is about to change.” She continued talking as her hands travelled over the boy’s broken and beaten body. “This man is going to give you a bright new future, Tiny. So you have nothing to fear now.”
If he hadn’t decided to do so already, if he hadn’t bought several houses to save these boys, he would do so for her. Such was the power, he was beginning to realize, she had over him.
“Can you find something to splint his leg?”
Max did as she asked, and returned with two pieces of wood. She untied her bonnet and held it out to him.
“Tear off the ribbons, please.”
He did as she asked again.
She tied the wood on either side of Tiny’s leg and bound it with the ribbons.
“It will have to do for now. Pick him up gently, Max.”
The boy was insensible with pain and fever. Max was sure he had no idea what was happening, as he slid his hands under the painfully thin body.
“Lead the way, Essie.”
She did, and he carried Tiny, who winced with every jolt. They arrived up on deck to find the Sinclair brothers standing where they’d left them, and the crew and captain looking enraged.
“Take the bag of coins from my pocket, Miss Sinclair.”
She hurried to do as Max asked of her.
“Throw them at Captain Hoyt’s boots.” She did, and the weight of coins made a loud clinking sound as the bag collided with the wooden deck.
“That is payment for the boy. From this day forth, he is under my protection. And if I hear you have mistreated any more cabin boys, I will return, Hoyt, and this time I will pull the trigger.”
He nodded to the brothers.
“You first, Huntington. Essie, you follow.”
He did as Lord Sinclair asked, and soon they were off the ship and standing on the dock.
“Where is your carriage?” Devonshire Sinclair said.
“Not far. Please allow me to thank you for your intervention. I should have taken men with me. Also for your help, Miss Sinclair, however misguided.”
“I will come with you in the carriage. The boy needs tending.”
“Cam, go with them, and I shall follow,” the eldest Sinclair directed with the ease of someone who was used to having his orders obeyed.
“There is no need—”
“Lead on, Huntington,” Cambridge Sinclair said. “The boy needs my sister’s attentions.”
He was used to taking the lead in all things, not following the orders of others, but these Sinclairs had a way of wresting the reins from his grasp.
Chapter Sixteen
Essie felt every bump as the little boy moaned in pain. She sat with his head on her lap, and Max and Cam sat opposite.
“We should have just shot that bastard!” Cam snarled.
“Even noblemen cannot simply shoot people, Mr. Sinclair.”
Max’s words were calm in the face of Cam’s fury, but she knew better. She saw the fist clenched on his lap, and the banked rage in his tawny eyes.
“You don’t have a very flattering opinion of noblemen, do you, Huntington?”
“No.”
Just the one word. Her brother snorted.
“I acknowledge that you and your brother may be different, however.”
“How kind of you.”
Essie did not want to feel anything for Max Huntington but anger at his treatment of her. But in just a few days she had seen so many differing things in connection with the man. The warehouse filled with boys like Silver and Peter, the man dressed elegantly and conversing with a duke at her aunt and uncle’s ball, and now this, the avenging Mr. Huntington who was on that boat to save Tiny.
“Not long now, Tiny, and I shall have you feeling better, I promise.”
The boy sighed and turned his head into her skirts.
“You smell good.”
“It’s a special blend I have made,” Essie said. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I wish more women took your advice in the matter,” Cam said.
Essie brushed Tiny’s matted hair and stroked a cheek, and the boy shuddered. Her heart ached for his pain. She could not bear to see her little brother and sisters with so much as a sore throat, and here lay this stoic boy who had suffered through so much alone.
“We are here.”
Max took the boy from her and stepped from the carriage
. Cam and Essie followed. They were outside a large red-brick building. On the left and right were businesses, one belching smoke, the other steam. Max did not stop, he simply walked up to the front door and opened it.
“How the hell does anyone sleep with all that noise going on?” Cam said, placing a hand at her spine.
“Where are we?” Essie asked her brother.
“Somewhere in the East End, I believe.”
They followed Max’s tall form. The building looked like a shop front, with mullioned windows on both sides of the steps up to the entrance. The inside did not dispel that notion. A large counter ran the length of the room. Max had lifted one end, walked through, and opened a door when they arrived.
“The children would love this place,” Cam muttered, urging her to follow. “They’d play at being shopkeepers all day.”
The next room was a large storage room. Here they found supplies stacked neatly on shelves. At the rear of the room was a set of narrow stairs.
“Come,” Max said, beginning to climb.
“Not a man to use two words when one will do, then,” Cam said.
“Unlike every member of our family,” Essie added, following Max. The sound of children’s voices grew as they reached the next floor. Walking down a long hallway, they passed a room filled with boys seated around a long table.
“Do those boys all live here?”
Max nodded as he turned into another room. This one held beds lining both sides. He moved to the one nearest the door and pulled back the bedcovers, then gently lowered Tiny onto it.
“Do you have a nightshirt that we can put him in?” Essie said. “I need warm water, soap, and something to wash him with also. What medical supplies do you have here?”
“I shall speak with Mrs. Wand and find out.”
Max left, and Essie removed Tiny’s shoes and shirt. The boy had his eyes closed now; the trip had obviously taken the last of his strength.
“Oh dearie me!”
A short, thin woman came bustling in with a basket over her arm. Behind her came a short, and if possible, thinner man, carrying a pail of steaming water. Dev was last through the door.
“I’m Mrs. Wand, and this is Mr. Wand.”
“Hello, I’m Miss Sinclair, and this is my brother Mr. Sinclair.”