Wherever You Are (28 page)

He lowered his lids and when he raised them again there was determination in his eyes. “I had to do what I could.”

Against her will, she understood. Barun was an evil man, using a combination of brute force, fear and mental manipulation to get people to do what he wanted. They were effective weapons, but Barun didn’t corner the market on mental manipulation. Juliana learned at the knee of an expert. Her mother.

She smoothed her skirts and squared her shoulders then nodded to John.

When she stepped across the threshold, a strange combination of anticipation and apprehension settled in her stomach.

Barun waved her forward. “Sit down, please.” He pulled a chair out for her and she sat, eyeing him skeptically as she folded her hands in her lap.

Barun paced behind the desk, chuckling to himself every once in a while. He waved his hand in the air,
a la
Vanna White, indicating an old sword lying across his desk.

The Holy Lance. A piece of history that promised great things to those who owned it. It wasn’t shiny like Morgan’s beloved cutlass. It had no engraved hilt or fancy scrollwork.

“I wanted you to see what my slave took such a severe beating for.” Barun rested his hip on the front of his desk. “I also wanted you to see that no one, not even the revered Morgan, can hold out against me when I want something.” Barun leaned forward until she could smell the rum on his breath and the heavy cologne seeping from his pores.

“I want you, Juliana. I want you by my side when I take my rightful place as ruler of the Indian Ocean. As I conquer new lands, I want you with me.”

Tears of frustration burned the back of her throat.
Crying, Juliana?
Her mother’s words mocked her, echoing through centuries, giving her the strength she needed.

You have your own weapon, Juliana. Use it.

She stared at the lance, hating it. Hating that a piece of metal held her life in the balance.

Barun watched her, as if trying to read her inner thoughts, dig into her brain and discover her secrets. If this man knew her secrets, discovered when and where she was born and lived her entire life he would tumble into a void far beyond the insanity he now lived.

He paced around her chair, tightening the circle with each rotation. She felt cornered, stalked.
Exactly what he wants you to feel.

She knew what she had to do. Saying the words, however, proved difficult. “Why do you want me by your side?”

“Because,
sanam
, you are different from the women of my country. Your beauty far surpasses any I have encountered.”

“What about Morgan?”

“What about him?”

“I’m married to him. I carry his name.”
I may even be carrying his child.
The shocking thought came from nowhere and instinctively her hand covered her abdomen in an age-old protective fashion. Her mind raced with new questions and she began counting back, but the dates were all jumbled in her head. She definitely hadn’t had her period while in the eighteenth century, but did the dates line up with the twenty-first?

What if she were carrying Morgan’s child?

Barun was watching her closely and she schooled her features, hiding the shock she was feeling inside. This changed everything if she were. Suddenly everything took on new meaning and a much greater urgency because deep down she knew she was carrying Morgan’s child. She’d been here well over a month and they’d made love enough times to conceive. With difficulty she pulled her attention back to the conversation.

“You can’t ignore our marriage,” she said.

“Morgan is a slave now. Your marriage is no longer valid.”

She stomped down on her anger. No longer valid? Of course it was still valid. He wasn’t God. He didn’t have the authority to annul a marriage. She pretended to consider that logic, then gave him what she hoped was a sly look. “What kind of riches will you give me?”

Barun paused. She’d changed tactics too soon, hadn’t pretended to think about it long enough. An error on her part.

“Anything. Everything,” he said.

“Everything?” She laughed, but the sound was too shrill and she quickly cut it off before he recognized her anxiety. “What if I wanted the moon?”

He stepped up to her and took her chin in his hand. It took every bit of willpower not to jerk away, to look deep into the bottomless cavern of his soulless black eyes. “I will give you the moon,
sanam
.”

She closed her eyes briefly and let the tears she’d been holding back leak out. “I’m tired,” she whispered. “So tired, Sanjit. I just want this all to stop.” That wasn’t a lie.

He drew in a breath when she spoke his given name and his hand on her chin trembled. “I can stop it, Juliana. I can make it all go away. Let me help you. Let me take care of you.”

She almost believed him. Almost succumbed to his smooth words and the determination and truth in his eyes. He would make it all go away. He truly believed that with him, her life would be complete.

She looked up at him knowing the tears made her eyes appear greener, more luminous, hoping it would work on him. “Will you? Will you really take care of me?”

His expression softened and for the first time there was real emotion there. A possessiveness that made her want to shudder in revulsion. She would be his, but she would always be a prisoner. Never free. “Always, Juliana.”

She hated the sound of her name coming from his lips. “May I ask one thing of you, then?”

The possessiveness was met with triumph. She felt the trap closing and wondered who was being trapped.

“You have but to name it and it is yours.”

She took a deep breath. “I would like to treat Morgan’s wounds. I want clean water, clean rags, bedding and decent food.”

Barun’s hand tightened on her chin until she feared her jaw would crack under the pressure. She pressed her lips together to keep from crying out but tears of pain sprang to her eyes. He let go and walked around his desk to sit in his chair. He studied her for a long time, his fingers steepled under his chin.

“Why do you ask such things for a slave?” He spit the word out and his features twisted into such revulsion she was taken aback. What had Morgan ever done to this man to inspire such hatred?

“What good is he injured and dying?” She stood and walked around the room, feeling his gaze bore into her. She’d learned the art of lying as a child and she’d become an expert at it. She hadn’t had to lie in a long time and hoped she wasn’t too rusty.

“He’s a strong man, a strong back to row your ships.” She turned, leaned against a small table and crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

She was playing with fire. Knew it the moment she saw his gaze drop to her breasts nearly spilling out of her gown and he balled his hands into fists. She took a deep breath, the action pushing her breasts higher. Barun swallowed.

“Give me five days alone with him and he will be good as new. He will be a useful slave after that.”

“In those five days you will meet with me every day,” he said, his gaze still trained on her breasts.

She hesitated. “Meet with you how?” Not to have sex, please God, not to have sex.

He shrugged and raised his gaze to hers. He wasn’t nearly as taken with her breasts as she thought because there was calculation in his eyes and a smile across his face.

On the way back to the hold, Juliana leaned over the side of the ship and threw up.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Five days. Five days to heal Morgan. Five days to be his wife. Five days before she had to give herself to Barun. That was the bargain she struck. Five days for her body. She tried not to think about it but it was a constant loop in her head.
Five days, five days, five days.

In return, Barun sent clean rags, clean water, bedding and decent food.

Juliana wrung the water out of the cloth. Morgan’s face was a roadmap of cuts and dried blood. What did the rest of his body look like?

Somehow in the little time they had together, she’d have to make him better and find a way to escape the Bhaya. The thought alone was daunting and damn near impossible considering there was nowhere to go in the middle of the ocean. And what about the baby? Should she tell Morgan what she suspected? She shook her head, as if she were answering herself. No. He didn’t need that pressure right now. Not when he needed all his strength to heal. He would worry and push himself to get better. It was best if she told him later. When they were free.

But what if they never got free? What if, after five days, she still hadn’t thought of a way to get them out of this? What if she was forced to meet her end of the bargain?

What if Barun discovered she was pregnant?

Cold terror slithered up her spine and she shuddered, closing her mind to all possibilities except one. Escape.

It was up to her to save them all. The burden was heavy on her shoulders but she would bear it. For Morgan. And for their child.

He moaned periodically and she began to talk, mostly from nerves but also to calm Morgan when he became too restless or when she hurt him too much while cleaning him up.

His ribcage was black and blue and swollen. She ripped strips from her underskirt and wrapped them tightly around his ribs, hoping they were merely bruised. The worst damage had been done to his right knee. She had to swallow a few times to keep from throwing up again. His knee was swollen to twice its size and every time she moved it he moaned. If by some twist of fate she found a way to escape, how was Morgan going to climb the stairs or swim if he couldn’t even bend his knee?

She sat back on her heels and dropped the bloodied, wet rag in the pink-tinged water. Her back ached but she still wasn’t finished.

She spread the bedding out on the floor, making pillows out of the extra blankets. She should have asked for clean clothes, but was frankly stunned she received what she had. Never in a million years had she expected Barun to agree to her demands. Even the five days were four more than she’d hoped for. Something in the back of her mind told her Barun had given in too easily. Something was up but at the moment she didn’t have the energy to explore what.

Morgan woke when she tried to move him to his new bed. Against her objections, he stood, his legs unsteady. Juliana grabbed him around the waist to help him balance. He leaned heavily on her, giving testimony to how much pain he was in. The fury boiling just below her surface bubbled to the top. She’d been thinking about escape these last hours but she hadn’t discounted the notion of killing Barun. The thought was still foremost in her mind and right now, seeing how much pain Morgan was in, the need to kill Barun was almost overpowering.

“Sit down before you fall down,” she said.

Morgan managed to sit and closed his eyes in exhaustion. How was she to get him whole again in five measly days when he needed weeks and far better medical attention than she had at her disposal?

He opened his eyes and looked at her in defeat and pain. She took his hand in hers and tried to hide her fear. He didn’t know about her bargain and she planned to keep it from him.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

He chuckled, then grimaced. “Where doesn’t it hurt?”

“Is anything broken?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Ribs?”

He took a careful, deep breath. “Just bruised.” Morgan looked around the room, at the small lamp in the corner, the blankets spread on the floor. “Where did you get all this?”

“Barun sent it.”

He raised an eyebrow and looked at her skeptically. “Barun?”

She nodded, her eyes sliding away.

“Juliana?” He waited until she looked at him again. “Why would Barun do this?”

She shrugged, unable to meet his gaze. Saying she was going to keep her secret from him was a whole lot different than actually doing it.

“Juliana, what have you done?” he whispered.

“Nothing.” She flipped her wrist to look at her watch, before she remembered she didn’t have a watch. Barun said he would send for her after dinner and she wanted Morgan fast asleep before then.

She needn’t have worried about Morgan. After standing for a few moments, walking to his makeshift bed and eating a good portion of dinner, he fell into a deep sleep.

She hated to see her beloved warrior so defeated. It was up to her to save them and that’s what she was doing with this plan. Maybe. Truth be told, she had no clue what she was doing. Flying by the seat of her pants would be a better definition.

John came to collect her minutes after Morgan fell asleep, as if he’d been waiting for his ex-captain to nod off before opening the door. Like last time John stared at Morgan. Guilt rode heavy on him and she had no problem playing on his guilt for her own purposes.

“I’m doing all I can, John, but I need help,” she said quietly so as not to wake Morgan. “We need weapons—”

“I can’t.” He was clearly horrified at the thought of helping them. It was a knee-jerk reaction to his fear of Barun. Juliana understood, but it wasn’t any easier to accept and she refused to let it defeat her.

“Please, John. I know you feel bad for what you’ve done to him. You can atone for that by helping us now.”

His gaze darted around the room as if he feared Barun was lurking in the corners, listening. It wouldn’t surprise her if he was but it didn’t stop her either.

She checked on Morgan one last time before exiting their prison and prayed he wouldn’t wake up while she was gone.

John took her to the room she’d been kept in the other day, the luxuriously appointed gilded cage. She stopped before entering, her feet unwilling to take her all the way inside. What was this about? He promised her five days but she was well aware he didn’t have to keep his promise.

“Why are we here?”

“He wants you to change.” John nodded to a gown spread over the opulent bed. Made of a deep maroon silk with intricate gold stitching, it was by far the most gorgeous piece of clothing she’d ever seen.

She spun around to walk away. She would not do it. She would not wear that dress. Slowly Barun was making her into what he wanted her to be and she was losing part of herself each time. She refused to give up pieces of herself to that madman.