“As usual, he was deep in his cups and angry at the world. He began arguing with my mother about what”—he shook his head—“I don’t remember. All I remember is the rage I felt as he started slapping her without mercy.”
Emeline could not imagine such a thing. The men in her family, the fathers, brothers, and uncles, were kind, loving, and gentle with every woman.
Blake glanced at her, and the unfathomable agony and sorrow in that one look nearly tore her heart from her chest. “I dashed for him, pulled his blade from his scabbard and leveled it at him, demanding he leave her be.” Frowning, he shook his head. “After the shock wore off at seeing his son behave like a man, my father began taunting me, calling me names no father should call a son. He charged me, swiping at the sword as if it were naught but air.”
Blake rubbed his temples. His breathing grew heavy. Emeline placed a hand on his arm. The fever remained. “Please, Blake, lie down. You are still sick. There’s no need to tell me these things.”
“Aye, there is. I need to.” He swallowed hard.
She nodded, waiting, her heart growing far too heavy.
“The blade trembled in my hand. My mother screamed for me to drop it and leave him be. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. He continued barreling toward me. I swept the blade down in an effort to keep it from his grip….at the last minute he swerved to the left and the sword plunged into his belly.”
Emeline flung a hand to her mouth.
“He died in agony.” Blake’s words carried no sorrow, no pity, no remorse.
Emeline remained quiet, moisture filling her eyes.
“She cried for him.” Blake’s tone was incredulous as he snapped his gaze to her, shock and horror written on his tight expression. “Not merely cried, but she ran and fell on him, sobbing in horror.” He growled. “I saved her, and she cried for him.”
“He was her husband, Blake.”
“And I was her son,” he spat back, fury screaming from his face. “She threw me to the wind. Tossed me from the house that very night and told me never to return.”
Emeline could only stare at him. Only then did this man’s pain, this man’s need for control, for power, begin to make sense.
“No boy should have to suffer as you did,” she finally said. “What did you do?”
He shrugged. “I survived.” He grabbed his other necklace, the emblem of the lion, the sun, and the dove. “Imorethan survived. Found work down at the docks.”
“Where did you get that from?” Emeline gestured toward the amulet she’d always assumed had been stolen from some conquered merchant.
“An aged captain gave it to me. I was mopping the floors of a punch house in the wee hours of the morning, one of my many jobs. All the patrons had left except one old sailor who sat at a table in the corner staring at me. I thought he was drunk, but when I came close, he called me over.” Blake held the pendant up to the lantern light. “Said he saw something in me. Said I would do great things. Then he pulled this over his head and handed it to me.” Blake dropped the amulet, sending it banging against his chest.
“What else did he say?” Emeline asked.
He gave her a skeptical look. “Only that I was chosen.”
Precisely. She couldn’t help but smile. She’d heard countless tales from countless people of similar encounters with beings who pronounced a special destiny, achosendestiny on their lives.Angels. The man who spoke to Blake must have been an angel. Dare she tell him that or would he think her mad? “What do you think he meant?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps chosen to rule the Caribbean.” A sardonic gleam crossed his green eyes, and she knew he must be feeling well again.
“You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.” He smiled, and in his gaze she saw a burning, a longing, and an affection that both elated and terrified her. Lifting a hand, he gently caressed her cheek as was his way.
Clutching it, she lowered it back to his knee before the effect of his touch caused all reason to abandon her. “You are feeling better. I should leave.” She glanced out the window where the faintest glow of light announced a new day. “You need to rest.” Emeline rose.
“Stay.” From the look in his eyes, ’twas more a request than an order.
“No need. The demons are gone, are they not?” For she no longer felt the oppression in the room.
Instantly, his gaze dropped to his finger, then up to the chest of drawers. Pushing from his bed, he leapt to his feet, teetered for a second, then marched to the place where he’d left the lockbox, rage fisting his hands. “Where is my Ring?”
Chapter 27
D
