Read Online The Elusive Bride by Stephanie Laurens - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephanie Laurens
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from the mass, slipping around the grappling, wrestling men. His gaze fixed on Gareth’s back, the cultist wove silently nearer.
A quick glance showed Gareth was fully occupied with the enemies before him. The cultist ignored her, his attention locked on the more dangerous opponent as he slipped into the shadows beneath the edge of the cabin’s roof.
He’d be up in a second.
Her heart in her throat, Emily glanced about—and saw a metal pail hooked to the jib arm. With her free hand she grabbed it, realized from the weight that it was half full of sand.
Just as a dark hand, followed by a dark arm and shoulder, came over the edge of the cabin roof.
She didn’t stop to think, just swung the pail the opposite way, then, as the cultist’s head cleared the roof’s edge, swung the pail back with all her might.
The solid thunk of the pail sent the cultist reeling. He tumbled back off the roof. Two sailors saw him and pounced.
Emily teetered, almost lost her balance and joined the bloody melee below; her hold on Gareth’s robes pulled her back.
He’d glanced around at the first tug, seen, grabbed his robes, and pulled. His gaze met hers. Then he turned back to hacking at the desperate cultists.
And desperate they were. They wouldn’t retreat. Wouldn’t give up.
In the end, they were all slain and their bodies tipped overboard.
Gareth didn’t stand down until the last body splashed into the water. Even then, he waited until Bister checked, with Mullins doing one last circuit of the deck before signaling that all was clear.
He straightened, easing the fingers cramped about the hilt of his saber. His and Mooktu’s new robes were liberally bloodied. A quick check confirmed none of it was theirs.
Only then, with the grip of battle fading, did he look at Emily.
She was still standing on the roof alongside him, watching the activity on the deck below. Her arms were tightly folded, hands gripping her elbows as if she were cold. Shock, yes, but not hysterics, for which small mercy he was grateful.
For the much greater mercy that she was still alive, he metaphorically went down on his knees and gave thanks.
He’d known she was up on deck. He’d heard her footsteps. He’d started circling, on the opposite side as she, avoiding her as he had whenever possible over the last days.
Her scream had put paid to that.
It had ripped through the night, and ripped through him. His heart had stopped, then started pounding so hard he’d been sure the cultists would hear and see him as he climbed up and over the roof.
But she was still alive; she didn’t appear to have taken any wound.
And she’d very effectively covered his back, which was the last thing he’d expected.
He was sincerely grateful for that, too.
The deck below was clearing. Mooktu grunted, then dropped down off the roof and strode away to reassure Arnia, who had appeared at the stern.
With his free hand, Gareth touched Emily’s slender back. “Come. I’ll lift you down.”
He dropped down to the less bloodied side of the deck,then, setting aside his saber, turned to her, reached up, set his hands about her waist and gripped.
And swung her down.
Felt his heart pound just a little harder as he set her on her feet before him. As he looked into the face that haunted his dreams. Chest swelling, he had to force his hands to ease their grip and let go.
Bister unwittingly helped, coming up to take his saber to clean it.
He’d just handed it over when Captain Ayabad turned from giving orders to have the decks sluiced and swabbed.
Gareth spoke before the captain could. “I’ll have four of my men help scour the decks tomorrow.”
Ayabad inclined his head. “And while they are doing that, I think, Major, that you and I will have a talk. There are things I don’t know that it appears I need to know.”
Gareth nodded curtly. “In the morning, we’ll talk.”
“Bon .” Ayabad, tall, dark, of similar age to Gareth, again inclined his head, then
A quick glance showed Gareth was fully occupied with the enemies before him. The cultist ignored her, his attention locked on the more dangerous opponent as he slipped into the shadows beneath the edge of the cabin’s roof.
He’d be up in a second.
Her heart in her throat, Emily glanced about—and saw a metal pail hooked to the jib arm. With her free hand she grabbed it, realized from the weight that it was half full of sand.
Just as a dark hand, followed by a dark arm and shoulder, came over the edge of the cabin roof.
She didn’t stop to think, just swung the pail the opposite way, then, as the cultist’s head cleared the roof’s edge, swung the pail back with all her might.
The solid thunk of the pail sent the cultist reeling. He tumbled back off the roof. Two sailors saw him and pounced.
Emily teetered, almost lost her balance and joined the bloody melee below; her hold on Gareth’s robes pulled her back.
He’d glanced around at the first tug, seen, grabbed his robes, and pulled. His gaze met hers. Then he turned back to hacking at the desperate cultists.
And desperate they were. They wouldn’t retreat. Wouldn’t give up.
In the end, they were all slain and their bodies tipped overboard.
Gareth didn’t stand down until the last body splashed into the water. Even then, he waited until Bister checked, with Mullins doing one last circuit of the deck before signaling that all was clear.
He straightened, easing the fingers cramped about the hilt of his saber. His and Mooktu’s new robes were liberally bloodied. A quick check confirmed none of it was theirs.
Only then, with the grip of battle fading, did he look at Emily.
She was still standing on the roof alongside him, watching the activity on the deck below. Her arms were tightly folded, hands gripping her elbows as if she were cold. Shock, yes, but not hysterics, for which small mercy he was grateful.
For the much greater mercy that she was still alive, he metaphorically went down on his knees and gave thanks.
He’d known she was up on deck. He’d heard her footsteps. He’d started circling, on the opposite side as she, avoiding her as he had whenever possible over the last days.
Her scream had put paid to that.
It had ripped through the night, and ripped through him. His heart had stopped, then started pounding so hard he’d been sure the cultists would hear and see him as he climbed up and over the roof.
But she was still alive; she didn’t appear to have taken any wound.
And she’d very effectively covered his back, which was the last thing he’d expected.
He was sincerely grateful for that, too.
The deck below was clearing. Mooktu grunted, then dropped down off the roof and strode away to reassure Arnia, who had appeared at the stern.
With his free hand, Gareth touched Emily’s slender back. “Come. I’ll lift you down.”
He dropped down to the less bloodied side of the deck,then, setting aside his saber, turned to her, reached up, set his hands about her waist and gripped.
And swung her down.
Felt his heart pound just a little harder as he set her on her feet before him. As he looked into the face that haunted his dreams. Chest swelling, he had to force his hands to ease their grip and let go.
Bister unwittingly helped, coming up to take his saber to clean it.
He’d just handed it over when Captain Ayabad turned from giving orders to have the decks sluiced and swabbed.
Gareth spoke before the captain could. “I’ll have four of my men help scour the decks tomorrow.”
Ayabad inclined his head. “And while they are doing that, I think, Major, that you and I will have a talk. There are things I don’t know that it appears I need to know.”
Gareth nodded curtly. “In the morning, we’ll talk.”
“Bon .” Ayabad, tall, dark, of similar age to Gareth, again inclined his head, then
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