Part 23 (2/2)
”Lock!” She shoved him and bolted toward the house, glancing once over her shoulder. He followed at a slow jog, waving to her and smiling.
Brat! He's such a brat! Sparrow thought, torn between irritation and good humor. She quickened her pace, planning to lock him out when she reached the house, but seconds later she shrieked as he lifted her and half-tossed her in the air. Lock ran to the house, Sparrow snug in his arms.
”Sometimes I really hate you!” She giggled against his lips as he kissed her, placing her on her feet. She leaned against the door, her arms around his neck.
Suddenly the door opened and they both stumbled in, catching themselves before they fell on the rug.
”Would you look at the both of you!” Shea-Ann snapped. ”Acting like that in front of the house! At least have the decency to go in the barn!”
”Where are you going?” Sparrow glanced at the leather bag slung over her friend's shoulder.
”I'm spending the night in the village. With a couple of those women ready to deliver at any time, I'm better off sleeping there than having to ride off in the middle of the night.”
”Do you need help?” Lock asked.
”No. You've been up almost every night helping me, but tonight get a good rest so you'll win tomorrow. Good luck, yak.”
”Thank you, hag.”
”Sparrow,” Shea-Ann hugged her, ”everything will be fine.”
”I know it will.”
”Come on,” Lock said to Shea-Ann. ”I'll saddle your horse for you.”
Shea-Ann's eyebrow lifted and she watched Lock walk across the gra.s.s. ”If I didn't know better, I'd say the pirate's taken a liking to me.”
”I think you like him a bit yourself.”
Shea-Ann winked at Sparrow and said, ”But don't let him know about it. See you when you get back. And don't worry. You'll be married before you know.”
Sparrow drew a deep breath and released it as her friend joined Lock in the barn. Shea-Ann was right. The Empress was already attracted to Lock, and with his seductive performance, he was certain to win. When he did, he'd ask for his freedom and they could truly get on with their lives.
The s.h.i.+p lurched in violent water. Waves drenched the deck, stinging Lock's eyes as he bellowed for Sparrow.
He heard her shriek and pushed his way past sailors who did their best to keep their footing on the slippery deck. An enormous wave washed over the s.h.i.+p. Lock grasped the wooden rail, managing to keep his footing while others tumbled overboard and disappeared into the dark, churning water.
”Sparrow!” he hollered, his throat aching.
Behind a fallen mast, he saw her pinned beneath a hulking male body. Her hand grasped a loose slab of wood, and she struck it across her attacker's face. He dropped to one side, but as she crawled across the slippery deck he caught her ankle and hauled her roughly into his embrace.
Lock dove, catching the mast as the s.h.i.+p tilted, and leapt at the dark figure, pain flaring across his ribs...
”Lock!” Sparrow's hands shook him, and he leapt awake, his heart pounding so violently his chest ached.
His vision cleared. The farmhouse. There was no s.h.i.+p. Not yet. Nor would there be.
”G.o.ds,” he murmured, wiping sweat from his eyes.
”Must have been a horrible nightmare. Are you all right?” She rubbed his back.
”Nightmare.” More like a vision. By now he knew the difference. He lay back down, wrapping his arms around her as she settled against his chest. He uttered a shaky laugh. ”You don't get sea sick, do you, girl?”
”I don't know. I told you I've never been to sea. I suppose we'll find out when you take me.”
”I changed my mind about that.”
”Why?”
”It's no place for you. You'd hate it.”
”But you told me I'd love it.”
”I've been away from it for a time, so I've glorified it. Unless you're used to it, the rocking of the s.h.i.+p makes most people vomit. And it reeks. Stinks like salt and fish.”
”Lock!” She giggled sleepily. ”You love the sea.”
”Did I ever tell you what happens when you run aground? Sometimes you get stuck on an island with cannibals.”
”Cannibals?”
”Happened to me once. They d.a.m.n near skewered my b.a.l.l.s.”
”Not much of a meal.”
”Hey!” He lifted his head, staring at her.
”Just teasing, but at least it got you back to reality.” She giggled and kissed him. ”Go back to sleep, Lock. It was just a bad dream.”
He hoped she was right, but his stomach tightened. He already knew his dreams were cursed.
Chapter Seventeen.
Lock broke the surface of the warm pool and hoisted himself to the edge, wiping rivulets of water from his eyes. He glanced around the bathing chamber in the lower levels of the palace of Begonia. Slaves washed in the snake-shaped pool filled by a natural hot spring. Others slept on the smooth rock floor scattered with soft rope carpets. Most prepared for the contest, each hoping to win his freedom. Many of the slaves belonged to the Empress, but a few-like Lock-had been given permission from other mistresses to enter. Sparrow was the only mistress-and the only female-in the chamber. Lock glanced over his shoulder to where she stood by a stone table preparing body paint and smoothing creases from his costume.
He approached, and she looked at him, her face tense.
He smiled as he stepped into the tight loincloth sewn with long strips of leather that hung to his knees and exposed almost every inch of him when he moved. ”By the look on your face, you'd think you were the one competing.”
”Aren't you nervous at all?”
”What for?”
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