His Seafaring Siren (Caledonia's Captives) (8 page)

“I know.” He walked to her and threaded her hair through his fingers. Lifting her mouth to his, he kissed her with a fire that made her knees quiver. “Mowriyah, I can’t imagine my life without you. When we get through this, when we get home...”

Her heart jumped with anticipation as she hung on his every word. “Yes?”

“When we get home, will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes!” She pounced on him and kissed him there in the empty open streets. “I love you, Septimus.”

“And I love you.”

“Mowriyah, we have to go!” Phaedra whispered loudly at her.

Septimus kissed her once more, then released her. “Go, get your sister. Then we can all go home and be together.”

She was exhilarated by his proposal. Her future suddenly seemed much brighter. She would have her sisters, a husband, and a new niece or nephew soon. “I will see you soon.” She turned on her heel and ran to Trivian and Phaedra. The horrid mood that had plagued her since the morning was suddenly gone. “Let’s go.”

***

Septimus had finished preparing the ship, and now sat in the darkness for what felt like hours. There was no sign of Mowriyah or the others. Worry started to creep into his mind.
What if something went wrong? What if they were captured?
His head throbbed at the morose thoughts and he rubbed his temples in an attempt to relieve the pressure.

The pier had quieted considerably since he had first boarded the ship. Most workers had left a while ago, leaving Septimus alone and surrounded by silence. Visions of Mowriyah tied up and lashed haunted his mind and he tried to think of home and his soon-to-be-bride in a beautiful gown with his brothers surrounding him.

He forced himself to focus on his tasks once more and went over the checklist in his mind. He had already loosened the sails. It should only take a few moments to raise them to full mast. He had also taken in two of the three mooring lines. The ship was as ready as he could make it. As he paced the deck, clouds gathered overhead and dotted out the light from the moon. Pure darkness had set in, along with an eerie feeling that he had lost something.

Septimus scanned the horizon and couldn’t tell where the water stopped and the heavens began. There was only darkness. He set his eyes to the pier and the city that lay in front of him. Flickering lights from candles lit in a few windows danced like fireflies in the night sky, but there was no other light, no moon to help guide their path, only shadows—shadows that bounced off the buildings.

He squinted into the darkness, trying to peer through the black that engulfed him. His gaze focused on a group of shadows that were moving his way.
It’s them!
He jumped to the railing and lowered the rope ladder, then waited for their arrival. “Mowriyah!”

“Septimus,” she shouted. “Hurry!”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. There were a lot of shadows. “Run!”

He watched helplessly as she ran toward him with a band of guards close on her heels. Mowriyah reached the boat and grappled up the ladder, her sister close behind her. Running to the aft of the ship, he yanked the last mooring line and pulled it on board. Phaedra and Trivian had also made it aboard and were hauling up the last rope while Leihla pulled up the ladder, securing their escape.

Mowriyah dashed to the mast and scaled it quickly. Trivian and Septimus heaved on the sail line and raised it. The guards had reached the edge of the pier and were now grabbing at the railing just over their heads, trying to clamber aboard, or banging against the ship with their swords. Septimus drew a sword from the trunk, and ran to the railing, trying to stave off the intruders.

Small gusts of wind whirled around them, and the ship began to shift away from the dock. A guard flung himself to the boat, clutched his fist around one of the railing posts, and swung his sword madly with his free hand.

Septimus ran to him and swung out with his sword. A searing pain stretched from Septimus’s hand up his arm before he dropped the sword and fell to the floor. From the corner of his eye, he saw Leihla step forward and pick up his sword. She studied it, raised it in the air, and sliced through the wind with ease. She moved forward to the guard, who was still flailing with one arm. She raised it again and looked back at him only once. A loud whoosh rang in Septimus’s ears and it was done. The guard screamed in terrible agony as his body fell from the ship, his severed hand following him into the sea.

Some guards on the dock were running back down the street, while the others jumped in the water in pursuit. They swam hard, but weren’t able to keep up with the ship, which was now fully underway with the blessings of Neptune, who had filled their sails to the max.

Clutching his hand, Septimus paused for a moment and looked around at his crew. Trivian and Phaedra stood clutching one another beneath the mast. Leihla knelt crying only meters from him, and Mowriyah...

“Sail is at full mast and rudder is hard right, Captain!” she barked through the night air.

Mowriyah was in command and running his ship. “Very well, first mate. Head out to sea and follow the stars.”

“Captain, please take care of Leihla!”

He nodded. Trivian and Phaedra joined him by the railing, kneeling to better assess his injury.

Phaedra ripped a piece of her gown. “Let me see that.” She fussed with his hand. “We are going to have to clean this out before anything serious can be done. Do you have alcohol?”

“Below deck in the sleeping quarters.”

Trivian stood. “I’ll get it.”

Septimus glanced at Leihla, who sat a few feet from him and remained quiet. “Is she all right?”

“She will be,” Phaedra replied, dabbing lightly at his wound.

“What happened? What went wrong?”

“Getting back into the palace was easy enough. We arrived during their guard change. But we were too late to see when they had started. There are only a matter of minutes that the side gate is unmanned. We did not know how long we really had. We hurried and found Leihla in the slaves’ room. Hadrian had summoned her and the other slaves were helping her to prepare.” Phaedra retrieved a small scrap of paper from her robes and held it in her hand.

Septimus unfolded it and the soft light from the rising moon helped him see the fine powder folded in its creases. “What is this? A drug?”

“Yes. The alchemist made all the women slaves a drug that would help them with their time with Hadrian. They would be conscious and moving, but have little to no memory and no feeling of the experience at all. All the women seemed to have some. Leihla used her drug on the women helping her prepare. Then she waited for us.”

“But then what happened? How were you found out?”

“We hadn’t gotten there quick enough. Hadrian had sent guards to fetch Leihla because she had not yet come to him and as we were making our escape, the guards saw us. They started yelling through the palace, which alerted the other guards.”

“How did you escape?”

“Mowriyah.”

“Mowriyah?” Septimus looked to his soon-to-be-bride. She stood at the rudder stick with her head tossed back into the wind, her hair flying around her face, and the moonlight catching the wide smile that once again spread across her face.

Trivian returned and knelt beside him. He opened the bottle and then took a small swig. “Ready, brother?” Septimus grabbed the flask and pulled a large gulp into him. He nodded. Trivian took the bottle and poured it generously over the deep cut. The searing pain returned and Septimus gripped Trivian’s hand. “It looks like we may have to stitch this up a bit.”

He rolled his eyes. The thought of more pain was not exactly exciting to him. Phaedra took the rag she had torn from her dress and wrapped his wound tightly. “Hold it here with lots of pressure to calm the bleeding. I’ll go see what I can find for stitching.”

Trivian offered him another taste of the rough alcohol. “You’ve got an amazing woman there, Septimus. She saved us all. If Mowriyah hadn’t escaped before, we would have never been able to find our way out this time. She’s smart too. Mowriyah was leading us through the passageway when we were faced with a guard. She stopped in her tracks and cowered in front of him, ranting about attackers in the palace. The other women and I all followed her lead. The guard passed us by without another glance.”

“She does have a way with deception. She’s almost as good as Phaedra.”

Trivian turned serious. “I know you and Phaedra share a rough past. However, I hope she has proved herself to you. I love her, and plan to marry her. My wish is that my brother and my wife would be able to make amends.”

“Your wife?” Phaedra had returned, a surprised look on her face.

“Well, I had planned on waiting until we arrived at our new home in Caledonia. But, since you were standing right there... Phaedra? Would you—”

She fell on top of him, kissing his face, and squealing. “Yes! Of course!”

Septimus got up and left the couple rolling on the deck floor together. He walked over to Leihla, who had not moved since leaving Rome behind. “Are you okay?”

She looked up at him and her guarded eyes gripped him. “Are we going home now?” she inquired, her voice barely audible.

“Yes.”

“Will Abagail be there?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s not talk about the past. The future holds many wonderful things.”

He left her to think about her new possibilities in life and walked to Mowriyah. She was exquisite. The salty air blowing through her hair, and the power in her legs to stand undaunted by the swells of the ocean made his heart swell. He could no longer see himself with any other woman. She was his match: powerful, smart, exhilarated by life at sea. “Mowriyah?”

“Yes, Captain?” She kept her eyes steady on the horizon.

“I love you.”

She blinked and refocused her attention on him. “I know.”

“Let’s get home. We have a lot to do for a double wedding.”

“Double wedding?”

Septimus pointed to Phaedra and Trivian, who were still rolling around the deck. “Maybe I should tell them to go down below?”

Mowriyah’s eyes sparkled with the shimmer from the stars. “Maybe you could teach them how to handle the ship and
we
could go below?”

“I like the way you think.” Septimus laughed.

Mowriyah moved in closer to his ear and whispered a string of seductions that filled his mind with sensual thoughts.

Septimus’s eyes widened and he was instantly aroused. He turned his face toward her and grabbed her waist with his undamaged hand. Pulling himself to her, he held her tightly and allowed the gentle rocking of the ship to move their bodies in unison. He flicked his tongue against her top lip multiple times, then gave a coy smirk.

“Do you plan to tease me all night?”

“Oh, my love, it is not a tease. It is a taste of what is to come.”

Biography

Lisa A. Adams writes from a little plot of country, tucked away in the North Carolina Sandhills. Having been an avid reader and a history major in college, writing historical fiction seemed to be the next step in her career. As a multi-published author, she has learned that completing mundane, everyday tasks can spark ideas for her next story. In fact, she was assisting in a science project for one of her children, when the idea for
His Seafaring Siren
came to her. When she’s not writing, Lisa can be found in her sewing room or watching The History Channel and jotting down notes for her next project. Hundreds of stories have been sketched out and are simply awaiting their place in line. Look for the next book in the “Caledonia’s Captives” series to be coming soon.

When asked about her family, Lisa will be the first to tell you that they are the backbone of not only of her writing career, but anything she chooses to pursue as well. She has been married to her husband for ten years and has five wonderful children, a loveable mop dog, and two very spoiled cats.

You can connect with Lisa on twitter @LisaAdamsWriter or on her blog at http://pen-the-dream.blogspot.com