He was weary and cold…so bleeding cold…but something in him wouldn’t give up. Pain burned, yet he resisted yielding to oblivion. He struggled on through searing flame and bone-cracking chill. For an infinity, he fought gravity’s pull, striving for the surface. For survival.
Sink or swim, sink or swim, not going to sink…
Just as the last of his strength was leaving him and he knew he could fight no more, he saw a glimmer…a shaft of light piercing the darkness…
“What’ve you found, Mr. Garrity?” Even distorted by water, the girl’s voice was bubbly and sweet, like lemonade mixed with champagne. “Is it a treasure?”
“Ne’er know what gifts the Mother Thames will bring,” a man’s voice replied. “Whate’er it is, it’s heavy, that’s for certain.”
Adam felt a jerk as he was pulled upward. The depths grew lighter and lighter, voices clearer and clearer…
“Bloody ’ell! ’Tis a lad.”
“Is ’e dead?” came the girl’s trembly voice.
“Give us some room, dove, and we’ll see.”
Weight descended on Adam’s chest, the pressure on his broken ribs forcing a cry from his lips.
“That’s right, boy. Cough it up,” the man said. “Swallowed ’alf the Thames, you did.”
He choked, brine spewing from his mouth and nose. He vomited and vomited until his throat was raw. When he was empty, he tried to open his eyes, the lids crusted together with the salt of the river and his own tears. His lashes came unstuck, and he blinked as he saw the face of an angel. A girl with blonde ringlets haloed by light.
“You ain’t dead,” she said in that sparkling sweet voice.
“Wh-where am I?” he croaked.
“On a lighter wif me and Mr. Garrity. We were scavenging for goods but found you instead.” She tilted her head. “I’m Jessabelle. Who’re you?”
“Jessabelle,” he murmured. “I…I’m…”
His teeth chattered. Cold and heat flashed through him simultaneously, his limbs shaking. Darkness replaced the images and voices, a whirlpool of nothingness beckoning. He felt a gentle hand upon his forehead, calming him as oblivion claimed him once more.
Gabby jerked her fingers from her husband’s brow. His skin was hot; as Dr. Abernathy had predicted, a fever had set in. For the past three days and nights, she’d kept vigil, dozing in fits by Adam’s side, waking to his incoherent moans. Although Mrs. Page and Nell had offered to keep watch so that Gabby could get some rest, Gabby had refused to leave him.
She’d replaced one cool compress after another as each became steamy with his feverish heat. Using a spoon, she’d painstakingly fed him water and soothed his chapped lips with salve.
Mostly she’d prayed and prayed and prayed.
But what made her pull away now wasn’t the burning flame of Adam’s skin. Shaking, she rose from her chair and went to rinse a compress at the washbasin, another worry joining all the rest.
Who is Jessabelle? Why is my husband calling this woman’s name?
Adam had never mentioned a Jessabelle before. Gabby would know, wouldn’t she, if her husband had a female acquaintance…one with whom he was apparently so familiar that he would utter her name in the throes of delirium? And if Gabby didn’t know this woman, why would Adam keep the knowledge from her? Unless…unless…
No, stop it. He promised he would be faithful to you…and Adam is a man of his word. He’s never lied to you.
“Jessabelle…don’t go…” This time, Adam’s voice had a raw, guttural,tormentedquality to it.
Virulent heat built inside Gabby as if she’d caught her own fever, one born of suspicion and doubt. She couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to a few months ago. To that time when she’d found Adam thoroughly foxed in his study. It was the one and only time she’d ever seen her husband drunk…and free of his usual restraint.
Shocked, she’d asked him if something was the matter.
And he’d slurred, “Someone important died. In a workplace fire.”
When she’d tried to ask him more, he’d put a stop to her questioning by kissing her. By doing unspeakably intimate things that made her blush and quiver just to think of them. Afterward, he’d passed out, and the next day he’d recalled nothing of what transpired between them that night…which was probably just as well. She still didn’t know what to make of that dark, animalistic side of her husband.
Or of her own shamefully wanton response.
