Page 85 of The Wayward Duke
When the icy water reached her lips, Caroline closed her burning eyes. She thought of Julian. Of eight years without him. Of all the words she hadn’t yet said.
The cold seared her lungs. Paralysis crept inward from her limbs, her thoughts growing sluggish and remote. Before the black water closed over her face, she gave one last push against the lock, clicking the final number in place, and it yielded.
She shoved upwards. But despite the hatch being open, she scrambled for purchase. She couldn’t pull herself up, not with her wrists bound.
Above her, the square of pale light beckoned, impossibly far. Her bound wrists thrashed, the cuffs tearing her abraded flesh anew. She could glimpse the grey sky overhead, but the rising river pinned her down, just out of reach. Already, the frigid seawater reached up to her collarbone.
This was an elegant torture, engineered to torment the prisoner with hope before the inevitable end. Even now, she strained upwards, desperate to prolong each agonising moment above the surface.
“Linnie!”
The hoarse shout fractured the stillness. She must be dreaming, her fevered brain conjuring ghosts in these last moments. And yet – there – a face eclipsed the light above.
“Julian.” His name tore from her raw throat, ripped free by the savage riptide.
“Hold on, my duchess.”
The reply echoed against the iron walls. Not a fantasy. He was real. Caroline wrenched her bound wrists upward with the last dregs of her strength.
“Julian,” she choked again as the dark tide swallowed her. His blurred silhouette loomed against the square of light before everything vanished.
Hands plunged into the box. Strong arms encircled Caroline’s body, heaving her towards sunlight and breath – through the open hatch into the chill air.
Then, she was held tight to a broad chest. Gasps sawed her lungs as the roaring in her ears slowly resolved into shouts somewhere nearby. She heard the strike of oars on the water. She sagged against Julian as the box receded below them.
“You’re all right. I have you. Just breathe,” he rasped against her temple.
She felt him fumbling at the rope binding her mangled wrists, freeing her.
Caroline’s lips shaped his name, no sound escaping her burning throat. There was only this – Julian’s heart hammering against hers, the warmth of his skin chasing away the chill.
37
Julian bent his head against the chill as he carried Caroline’s limp body from the warehouse, her sodden gown wetting his coat. She remained still in his arms save for small puffs of breath that ghosted from her parted lips.
“I’ll have you home,” he urged, quickening his pace towards the waiting carriage. “I know you must be freezing.”
The driver flinched at their bedraggled state but wisely held his tongue as Julian bundled Caroline inside. As soon as he had tucked his coat around her shivering frame, Julian rapped sharply on the roof overhead. The carriage jolted forward, wheels sloshing through abandoned puddles.
“Linnie?” When her dazed eyes found his, Julian risked a faint smile. “There’s my ferocious wife. Back from the brink and itching for a fight, I’ve no doubt.”
“After this…” she mumbled into his chest.
“Yes?”
“I’m not leaving bed for a month.” She burrowed closer against him, soaking his shirt. “And I want chocolate. As much as you can get me.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “As you command, my duchess. A month in bed and all the chocolate you can drink.”
The carriage rumbled through fog-smothered streets. Julian cradled Caroline tighter, wrapping both arms around her trembling body.
Julian bowed his head, pressing his cheek to her tangled blonde curls. Salt and rust clung to the silken strands. His throat constricted at the memory of the iron tomb swaying in the current. The black water already lapping at her chin when he’d plunged his hand through the hatch. She’d managed to get it open. If he hadn’t been there in time to pull her up—
You survived this,he silently told her.So you can survive what comes next.
What came next. The thought chilled Julian more than the icy rain pelting the carriage windows. He had left her once already. Left his wife broken because duty demanded it.
He stared down at her face, searching for answers in the smudged hollows beneath her eyes.
