Chapter Eleven

T here was a storm on the horizon. Delilah looked at the gathering clouds across the sea and knew, by nightfall, the island would be pelted by the first tropical storm of the season. It was glorious. The wind plucked at her open hair, and even though the grass was warm under her feet, later it would be soaked. She was lucky to live on the hills by the sea, but there would be others near the surf line that would be in danger if the storm became worse than they thought.

One of the local science experts who studied the weather in Barbados mentioned the island was placed right outside the chain of islands like a pendant. They were mostly just clipped by storms, but this one was predicted to hit head-on. Like other areas on the island, the local church, which was set more inland, would house those who lived close to the beach. Delilah didn't want anyone hurt, so she turned and went back into her home to grab her shoes and tie her hair back.

She would go down to the houses and help residents pack what they could to store away from the water. A good storm surge could take out the foundation of any home, so people took their prized home possessions with them. This was with the knowledge that if they went back to a damaged or destroyed home, they could at least rebuild with things they loved.

Delilah looked back to her home. The shutters would keep the wind from breaking the glass, and it was built on limestone rock. She took the path to the houses that sat on the border where grass met sand, where the mango trees had taken root, drawing their water from deep in the earth to nourish its ripe, sweet blooms. The winds would take many of the mangoes down to the sand, but nothing would be wasted. Even the ones that weren't ripe would be cut and preserved. Why was she surprised that Julian was already there, helping people get their things loaded into carts to go up to the church?

"How did you get here before I did?" she teased.

He kissed her gently, making the children around them giggle. "I am a man of many talents. Junior is here as well, and we have others from the distillery helping to get people inland."

"I hope they all have homes to come back to." Delilah looked around worriedly.

"I've been looking at the houses. They are sturdy. Let's just hope the waves don't take away the sand dunes," Julian replied. "If you look over there, along where the houses are, there is a trench being built, and other men are filling flour bags with sand. My hope is that the trench keeps the storm surge away from the houses, and if it doesn't, the sand-filled bags will be a secondary defense."

Delilah looked on in wonder before turning to her husband. "You are simply amazing. You've been here only a short time, but you have made the island your home and care about its people."

"You thought I wouldn't?" He seemed a bit wounded by her words.

"I don't know," she admitted honestly and lifted his hand in hers before pressing a kiss in the center of his palm. "But I'm learning each day, and each new surprise is more pleasant than the last."

"Let's get this work done and everyone safe before we all face this storm," he said before looking out to sea. "Our ship is on the way with Cameron at the helm. By late evening he should be in port, but coming through this storm...I hope he makes it before the height of the storm."

"He can stay anchored by one of the smaller islands, out of the path of the wind and rains, before coming into dock." Delilah squeezed his shoulder, looking at the worried expression on his face. "Cameron has a good head on his shoulders and his wits about him. He will make the right decision."

"I believe he will," Julian replied, but his face showed no less concern.

The rest of the day was spent doing hard work, getting women and children settled in the church. When that small space became too crowded, Delilah opened up the warehouse of the distillery for use, ensuring that the doors to the rum store were padlocked. While she was offering safety, she knew that given the opportunity, some might not approach her charity as goodness of heart and still try to steal. A few of her distillery workers were in the group and vowed to ensure no one tried to break the lock or commit any thievery in the midst of the storm.

Finally, as dusk began to settle in and the first bands of rain came to shore, Julian maneuvered the carriage home, where they would sit out the storm.

"Junior refuses to come from the port," Delilah complained. " The Sun Catcher is secured, but he insists on staying."

"He waits for The Wraith ," Julian answered and held the reins tight as a swath of lightning cut through the sky and startled the horses. "If Cameron manages to dock, Junior will help him, and the men get settled until the storm is over."

She frowned. "Neither of you told me anything—I won't be left out of conversations like a simpering woman with no intelligence in her head."

"That was not our intent. There was a rush to get everyone to safety, so we took the initiative," he replied. "It was not meant as a way to circumvent you in the least."

"Junior is my trusted friend as Cameron is yours. I'll ask to be included from now on," she said through stiff lips. "I'm not at all contented with the fact that he stayed in the path of danger because of your ship."

"Ah yes, you trust Junior above all else, even me." Julian's words had a bite to them, and she glanced his way in shock. "Here you are worried about his safety and losing his trust, but I still cannot hear from your lips any profession of love for me."

"The two are not the same," Delilah protested. "Junior was there when you were not. I've known and trusted him much longer. That does not equate to saying, ‘I love you.'"

"You questioned my intent and care for the people of this island just this afternoon," he pointed out. "Pray tell me, would Junior be asked the same?"

"You cannot be serious. Again, I have known him from the time of my attack, and we have had years of friendship since then," Delilah replied in exasperation. "I have only known you since my journey to London. For all I know, you could've been at the party that very same night and not cared what those bastards did to me."

Julian jerked the carriage to a stop outside of their home, and after helping her from the carriage, he walked away. When he went inside without even looking in her direction, he didn't have to voice the words for Delilah know he was simmering with anger. With her heart racing in fear, she followed him inside not knowing what might happen next. He was nowhere to be found until she reached their bedchamber. Julian was throwing clothes into a large bag.

"Where are you going?" Delilah asked.

"To the port." His tone was stiff. "I'll send Junior back to stay with you since you trust him more than I."

"That is not true!"

Julian turned and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Do you think if I was at your birthday gala and I knew of what those two—those two fucking bastards—had done, they would be alive today? I would've sent them to hell in your godmother's gardens without hesitation. Be damned to anyone who would think I was in the wrong. The fact that you thought this of me—I cannot be here with someone I love above all creation in this world who does not see me as their love in return or who questions my honor."

He moved her aside with firm but gentle hands to gather more of his things from the armoire. Delilah's heart broke at his words and the thought of him leaving, and she took his hand to stop his forward movement.

"Please don't go," she implored.

Julian shook his head sadly. "I have to. I will care for you and do all I promised, but I cannot lie in that bed every night knowing that you feel nothing for me."

"I care." She cupped his cheek and stood on the tips of her toes to press frantic kisses on his lips and face.

"Then say the words," he demanded and pulled her against his chest. "I'm a patient man, and I thought I could wait, but I crave your love like a drowning man needs air. But if it's not for me, I can't—I just can't."

"It is for you, I promise." Delilah looked into Julian's tormented gaze. "I cherish you-—I offer you my plea for you to stay with me because I cannot sleep without being in your arms."

Julian searched her face for any untruth before he kissed her hungrily before leaning his forehead against hers. "To me that is worth more than gold, more than any jewel found in this world. You are my light, my sun catcher, and without you, this world is a cold place."

"Oh Julian," she whispered.

Their lips met in a kiss that she felt down to her core, and her desire—her hunger—burst to life as it always did at the feel of his lips on hers and his hands molding her body to his. They began to work frantically at each other's clothing, when they heard Ruby call from downstairs.

"Come eat dinner before this storm gets any worse! Julian, the shutters all need to be closed on both houses."

"Later." He kissed her again.

"Delilah, Julian," Ruby called again.

"Soon. Let's eat very fast." Delilah leaned her head against the expanse of his chest. "I swear she knows when we're going to be intimate."

"We're coming down," Julian called before chuckling. "When Cameron and Juno are married, her attention will be elsewhere."

"One would think, but she can multitask like a general in Her Majesty's army," Delilah sighed.

It was another hour and a half before the shutters were closed and they ate a quick dinner, their eyes never leaving each other for too long. His gaze felt like a caress. Ruby explained that she had left them fresh bread, cheeses, and other foods in the event the weather lasted into the day and she couldn't get back to the house. They both thanked her profusely while hurrying her to the door.

"Why does it seem you both are rushing me away?" Ruby asked as she wiped her hands on her apron and moved toward the back door.

"It's becoming worse out there," Delilah answered. "I worry that the winds may cause something to hit you."

"I can see the lights of our home from here," Ruby insisted.

"Let me help you get home," Julian offered. "I can protect you from anything the wind whips up."

"Stay right here. I will be fine," Ruby replied.

"Well at least wave from the verandah so I know you're there," Delilah told her.

Ruby patted each of their cheeks gently. "You two are like mother hens. You'll make wonderful parents."

Her words made Delilah wonder what it would be like to be a mother as they watched Ruby move quickly through the steady rain. She had never considered she would have the chance, mentally settling for spinsterhood. However, now she had a husband. Would Julian want children in the future? Could she even be carrying children? The thoughts rolled through her head as she stared out into the evening reminiscent of nightfall because of the thick clouds that rolled in across the sea.

The silhouettes of coconut and other fruit trees waved against a tumultuous sky as the winds picked up. Delilah was never afraid of storms. She felt like each one was a part of her, a kindred spirit that needed to be released. A surge of excitement ran though her at the first roll of thunder, and a crack of lightning crossed the sky. Delilah turned into Julian's arms, and their kiss became fevered, both desperate to taste and feel more. He swept her up in his arms and carried her back up the short stairwell.

IT AMAZED DELILAH, the desire that rose up within her from his greedy kisses. Maybe she was still naive, sweet, and innocent to the way men saw the women they were with. But this—what she shared Julian—was beyond just lust. The connection between them was palpable. It was love. Delilah understood that, but why wouldn't her brain allow her to voice the word? Was she still afraid that it would give him control?

Was she afraid to love a man only to lose him?

She would try to think of it logically, but not now. She wanted to immerse herself in the sensations coursing through her body. Julian's dark eyes pinned her as Delilah let her housecoat and nightgown drop to the floor.

"Your breasts are always my undoing," he said huskily. "The dark plum areolas with the thick nipples in the center, so voluptuous they fill my hands to overflowing. Might I taste them, beloved?"

She moved toward him and lifted her breasts. "They were always meant for you, my love."

"Your love?" His eyes widened.

"Yes," she answered simply.

"I have longed to know that I'm in your heart." He pressed his face against the mounds of her breasts.

"I haven't said the actual words yet," she pointed out.

He put a finger over her left breast. "I am here, and that is all that matters. The words will come."

Delilah closed her eyes and gasped in delight as his lips searched and found the hard peaks. Somehow, she and Julian navigated to the bed, and they fell onto the mattress, a mass of tangled arms and legs, while they shared passionate kisses, intimate words, and soft laughter.

"Touch me," he commanded gently as they lay together.

Delilah ran her hand down his body, enticed by the feel of him, and watched his eyes close with pleasure at her touch. She ran her hands over his lower torso, and when she initiated a kiss, she reveled in the shudder that rolled through him. She tasted his lips, slipped her tongue into his mouth, and Julian groaned, taking control of the kiss that became wild with passion.

It was her turn to explore. She pressed her lips against his neck and chest, and with each nip or openmouthed lick of his skin, he shifted restlessly. While she might have been innocent at their initial forays into intimacy, between what she'd learned from him and books, Delilah had become brazen. Emboldened, she moved down his thighs and hesitated before she ran her hands over the thick length of his cock.

"Sweet mercy..." Julian's words ended on a hiss, and then a moan escaped him.

"I find the most seductive thing for me is to touch you like this," she murmured, smoothing her hand over his hard, erect cock.

"Delilah."

Julian was unable to hold back the agonized groan of her name, and he shifted his hips, hoping to relieve the restlessness within him. She went one step further in her bodacious exploration, bending down to swirl her tongue around the smooth head of his cock. The roll of the thunder outside and the sound of the storm wind seemed to fuel her ardor, and she used her tongue on the tip of his shaft.

"Delilah, don't—fuck!"

His words were never completed. She slipped her mouth down the length of his cock, and a grunt was the next thing that escaped his lips. Julian's hand clenched the fabric beneath them as Delilah used her mouth to please him.

"Enough," he muttered and took her by the shoulders and pinned her to the bed. "Do you know what you're doing to me?"

"Show me," Delilah begged.

Julian made her writhe by reaching between their bodies to tease her clit while he sank into her deeply. Delilah cried out in pleasure. Their rhythm matched the weather outside, and Julian seemed to be as wild as the storm. Lips met, bodies moved in unison, and for each breath or cry of passion that escaped her, he matched it as their need took them higher and higher.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, feeling the muscles bunch and move beneath his warm skin. Delilah moved sensually beneath him, and Julian moved suddenly to take her from behind. Feeling his thighs touch hers each time he pumped into her was an anchor lest the sensations that made gooseflesh break out over her skin pulled her away to merge with the wind, untethered.

"Yes, love, your soft moans drive me to madness," he said against her lips.

Julian pressed his face onto her back, and the sound of his harsh breathing was filled the room. Each new thrust brought Delilah more pleasure with his repeated action until her thighs trembled and she smothered her cries in the pillow.

"No, love, let the storm hear your cries rival theirs." His moves were as furious as the gusts lashing the house from outside. He pressed his hand against her back as they moved, and a carnal sound escaped him.

"Julian, now," she moaned.

"Yes, oh—God," Julian answered.

She was so close to climaxing. It became a gnawing ache that needed to be quenched. Delilah took the leap from the edge of sanity into the bliss of her release.

"Beloved." Was it a plea, a cry for reprieve, that fell from his lips?

Julian followed her into his bliss with a harsh groan. The muscles of his thighs were taut, and she felt his body jerk from the power of his release. His last hard thrust seemed to suspend them in the midst of their pleasure before they both fell to the bed.

"I don't think I want to move." Delilah's breathing slowed.

"You stay right there, my love. I will get it all sorted out—in a minute or two." A huge sigh escaped his lips. "Bloody marvelous."

"What is?" She was flat on her back with her eyes closed.

"Everything."

They lay with their fingers laced for more than a few minutes before he was true to his word and got them both cleaned and comfortable in bed.

"I love you." He kissed her lips as they lay almost nose to nose.

"My love," Delilah answered as sleep started to claim her.

LYING COMPLETELY PLIANT and satisfied in his arms, Delilah had fallen asleep with the storm raging outside and the warmth of her bed as her cocoon. But just as suddenly as she fell into slumber, she was awoken by rough hands pulling her from the bed.

"Got you."

The hot breath of Ian Saur was on her face, and she began to scream. She'd opened her eyes to Julian being pummeled into the ground. The rage in his snarl was palpable as he got up more than once to fight harder while she struggled against the strong grip of her captor.

"Take your fucking hands from touching my wife," Julian raged. "I will take them both off at the wrist."

"I'd like to see you try," Ian Saur replied before snarling to one of the men. "Kill him."

"You paid me to get you in the house and to beat him up, not kill him," the unknown assailant snapped. "Take him with you to the caves and drop him in the deep, but I won't be in Glendairy Prison waiting for my noose."

Delilah watched as Julian's hand crept under the mattress while the men quarreled.

"You're always worried about the hangman and that prison," one of his counterparts laughed. "I hear that multiple—"

His words broke off in a cry of pain as Julian reared up and stabbed the man in his groin. He sliced upward, and blood poured from the wound. The assailant slipped to the ground, his eyes panicked as he tried to staunch the blood, but it was too late. His face paled under the ebony of his skin, and soon the eyes that stared back were lifeless.

Julian leapt to his feet again, fighting for their lives, now with a weapon he was proficient with. He sank the blade into the shoulder of another only to pull it out before pivoting on his heels and swinging his arm in a wide arc. He sliced open the shirt of one of the four assailants, but then another knocked the blade from his hand with a wooden club.

"Fuck, why won't you just stay down?" It was a question laced with frustration as he and Julian circled each other.

Julian flashed a deadly grin. "I'll stay down when I'm dead, and you should pray I don't come out of this alive."

"He's going to kill all of you," Delilah stated bluntly. "He'll save you for last, Saur."

"We will be long gone before that ever occurs," Saur laughed.

His attention wavered enough that Delilah could bite his hand and then turn to score his face with her nails. Satisfaction at seeing blood rise from the thin marks was short-lived, though. Pain bloomed on her face as he slapped her and dragged her back against him. Julian fought like a man possessed to reach her. His face was bloody, but still he got to his feet to stagger toward one of their captors.

"You're going to pay for that, pet—on your knees," Saur's voice was pure evil.

Delilah lifted her head in defiance. "You'll have to throw me into the sea, because I will bite your manhood off and spit it in the sand."

"You'll not touch her!" Julian roared. Their gazes met and clung in desperation as if it was the last time they would see each other—maybe it was.

One of the men hit him with a short wooden club, and this time Julian stayed down as she was dragged away screaming his name.

"Julian! Julian, I love you! JULIAN!"

Her last word was a loud wail akin to the howling winds outside. The rain pelted them, soaking her to the skin in less than a minute because of her sheer nightgown.

"Mmmm, it seems the winds brought me a gift." Ian Saur leered at her. "It offers me a look at all I will have in my hands."

Delilah shivered from the cold but also from fear. She would never scream, not again, nor would she cower away. She would fight until the bitter end, just like her husband did. This was her island, and wherever they took her, Delilah would find the means to escape, even if it was drowning in the sea. They would never get the satisfaction of ruining her flesh, of taking what was her husband's.

Julian—Julian—Julian. His name was like her heartbeat, and she wondered if he was dead on their bedroom floor. An agonized moan escaped her lips as the image of him lying on the floor of their chamber flashed through her mind. It worse than any physical pain.

"You'll moan alright, maybe pleasure, maybe pain." Ian Saur smiled in the dim carriage. "It's a pity I vowed to Gibson we'd share you together."

"Never pleasure and not for you," she whispered. "My husband has shown me what good men can do to a woman's body to make it hum with energy—with passion and love. The both of you are like rutting dogs. Something has been broken in each of you since birth."

Ian grabbed her by the throat before hissing angrily, "Shut the fuck up."

Heartbreak and anger loosened her lips, and Delilah would speak the truth. "They all saw the darkness in you both. Your mothers saw and refused to suckle your sickness at her breast. Your fathers saw it too and refused to teach you as a son. Yet there was kismet when Lord Gibson came into your world. You're both depraved rabid dogs that circle each other in the squalor of your perversions. So no, I won't moan, or mourn, for either of you, but this island and its secrets will surely act for me."

Ian Saur's cruel grip now put painful pressure on her jaws while doubt played across his face. "What do you mean?"

They might have her captured, but she was no longer a little girl, naive and afraid. A plan formed in her head. She would become all they accused her of being in London.

Even as her face ached from the tightening of his fingers, Delilah managed to smile. "You'll see—pet—this storm is not common, and I have been here for a very long time. You'll see. This island protects its people, and you are not of its people."

He shoved her away against the side of the carriage as he sat back, shadows of fear making his lips a thin line on his disgusting face. Delilah twirled one finger in slow, lazy circles that his eyes watched warily. Lightning cut through the night as if on cue, and she let a laugh escape her chest as Ian Saur's eyes darted to the outside nervously. Men like him and Gibson always feared what they didn't understand. It would buy her time for Julian to find her—if he was alive.

The caves, that was where Ian Saur had the carriage stop. They stepped back out into the rain, and the carriage left in the dark night, a flash of lightning showing it moving away from their position like a wraith. A sense of calm settled over her. Delilah knew she wasn't meant to leave those caves, or the two men had another way to escape. Either way, her chances looked bleak as Ian Saur pulled her along barefoot over rocks, and she knew the only thing that might save her was her wits alone.

Delilah knew these caves. When she was finally allowed to return to Barbados, she'd explored the island from her home, moving outward to other parishes. Knowing every path, where each blade of grass grew, was out of necessity at first because of her fear that someone might come and take her away. Delilah wanted somewhere to hide.

It had slowly changed from fear to adventure, being taught which plants could be used as medicine and those that were edible. Some of these caves were good for high tide, when it came in and left fish in the rock pools that could not escape until the next high tide. Coral grew out of the wet rocks and pulled themselves inward when the tides were too high or coral poachers came to the caves.

Ian lit a torch stored near the entrance before he shoved her along in front of him. This cave was higher along the cliff edge. The spray of the water came in from the tumultuous sea crashing against jagged rocks. There was also a secret in this cave, one that—if she could get them close to it—could be their demise.

Be smart, girl. This will not be your end. I shall not have it. Aunt Bibbie's voice echoed in her head as if her godmother could sense her trouble and was there in spirit.

"I will be," she murmured.

"Hmm, did you say something?" Saur asked.

"Not to you," Delilah answered. "The island calls for sacrifice this very night."

Ian's laugh was caustic, but his voice held wariness. "Does it know you're about to die?"

"No, the ancestors said it will be you."

Delilah smiled even though trepidation filled her. She couldn't let them see her fear or show any weakness. If she did, they would feed on it like vultures on carrion. No, she had to take that away and fill them with doubt. Her laugh reverberated against the rocks as they stepped into the larger room of the cave.

The mouth of the entrance that faced the water held rocks that looked like jagged teeth. The sea spray came in only a few feet, leaving the rest of the cave dry. Dim light came from a small fire, and Delilah could see the hollow, the one that could be her salvation, but she would need to play the role for as long as she could.

"I see you have procured our prize," Lord Gibson said casually.

Delilah flicked a cold look at him. "Hiding in caves like rats, not surprising."

"We had proper accommodations," Lord Gibson said casually.

Ian pushed her to sit by the fire, and while she was grateful for the warmth against her skin, Delilah said nothing. By her hands was a small pool, and she dipped them inside. Life! She passed her fingers over the moving spines of a sea urchin, rarely fatal, but it would give enough of sting. She slipped her hand beneath it, stayed very still so it did not see her as an enemy, and waited patiently . I'm sorry, little friend.

"For this, we needed privacy." Lord Gibson's face had the look of the cat that ate the cream. "Your face is well recognized within the parishes, couldn't have someone going to find your husband before we were done with you."

"You'll not touch me. This storm and island won't let you," Delilah said calmly. "You all called me a witch in London, on my first return to visit my godmother with a hull full of rum, leaving with wealth. Each and every one of you expected me to come here and live in poverty, but the island takes care of its people, as she does for me now."

"I-I think she's correct." Saur looked worried. "She made the lightning come without a word, just the twirl of her fingers."

"Utter nonsense," Lord Gibson snapped. "I don't believe in the supernatural."

"Maybe you should," Ian replied. "I've seen some things in America—New Orleans, Charleston, and other places where slaves come from the African nations and the Caribbean. These women can destroy a man from the inside out."

"Like how your cocks shrivel as we speak," Delilah's voice was cold. "Touch me and feel her wrath. You want me? You want to take my body and destroy it with your perversion? What's held in your trousers will not work tonight, or any other night, because I have cursed you both, and the island wants your blood to water her soil."

The sky lit up with flash after flash of lightning, and the storm grew in intensity. The men looked at each other, then at her, when the thunder seemed to shake the cave walls. All too suddenly there was silence, no wind, no rain, as the eye of the storm began to cross the island.

"What's happening?" Ian asked.

Money does not buy intelligence , Delilah thought, but it was another tool to use in her cache of weapons. European storms were nothing like this, and she would use this knowledge to her advantage.

"She waits for her offering, the blood she seeks." Delilah made her voice ominous. "Not quenched, the storm will return even more powerful, and even this cave will be filled with salt water. We shall all drown."

"Then you'll drown with us," Lord Gibson pointed out.

She met his gaze and didn't even blink. "No, I won't. I will be placed on an island close by. You will be pulled to the depths by those who were damned to drown as their ships shattered on these rocks. Trapped in chains with no way to survive, they will find their vengeance taking men like yourself."

"Nonsense," Lord Gibson muttered.

"Then try to touch me then, either of you," she dared them. "Come on, you've got me right where you want me."

Lord Gibson loomed over her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her against him, and she wrapped her fingers around the urchin, taking sand with it as she brought it from the pool. Delilah stared at him defiantly before she pressed her hand against his chest, pretending to struggle while he laughed. He didn't notice that as she gripped his shirt, she pulled it away from his body so her other hand could drop her little friend inside. He was titillated by the struggle, so much so that he didn't seem to feel the urchin fall down his shirt.

"If you are protected, why do you struggle so?" Lord Gibson asked and threw his head back to laugh.

Ian looked at his cohort, and a hesitant chuckle escaped him until Lord Gibson began to scream and grab at his shirt. Ian stepped away, a scream escaping his own lips, while the urchin continued to sting the soft flesh of Lord Gibson's stomach. Finally he was able to get it loose, and it fell to the rocks, where he crushed it with his boots. When he stripped off his dingy white shirt, Delilah could see the red marks from where he was stung, the skin swelling into welts and blisters. She felt no sympathy knowing that the sea urchin stings would be unbearable without proper care. If the spines were still in his skin, well, that was entirely another type of pain. She moved back toward the wall of the cave, laughing in pure wicked delight.

"Shall you take your turn now, sir?" Delilah asked Ian Saur. "I'm sure the urchin was just a warning, as they cannot live outside the sea, a warning from the goddess herself. I'm sure she can be more inventive with her painful reminders."

"She speaks the truth. She is one of the Caribbean sorceresses. The ones who were brought to our shores have done nothing but destroy our souls." Ian backed away from her, eyes wide with fear. "Even lying between their legs, they curse you to follow them like a puppet, give them all your riches, and slowly waste away while yearning for a taste of their essence once more. I'll not die like that—I will not!"

Even Lord Gibson looked fearful before anger turned his face cold. "Then if we can't have her, we should kill her and leave her body for the good duke to find."

She had no more aces up her sleeves. If they attacked her right now, Delilah knew her death would be at their hands.

"Come then, be brave about it," she snapped, hoping her angry ruse would allow her to survive for just a bit longer.

"I will tear you open and let your husband see what your entrails look like." Lord Gibson made a move to step forward.

"I would love to see you try."

His voice made her heart leap in joy.

"Julian!" She turned to where he, Junior, and Cameron stood, the rain from the storm dripping from their leathers.

"Let's get this done before the weather starts up again," Julian said and pulled a machete from his coat. "I promised someone they'd lose their hands tonight, and I like to keep my word."

Delilah laughed. Seeing him alive was the most precious gift she could have been given. She would not let him fight alone. As Lord Gibson lunged for his pack, she got to it first and kicked it away.

"Go fight and die like a man," she said sweetly before folding her fist and striking him in the face.