Chapter Seven

F our days later, the carriage went along the paved road leaving her godmother's London mansion to the destination of Duke Blackshire's home. Guards riding on horseback accompanied Delilah to the Blackshire castle in Kent, two from Aunt Bibbie's guards and three trusted men from Julian himself that met them along the road. This would be their first dinner alone at his home, well, her home as well since they would be married.

She didn't want to think about it because her biggest fear was, after the marriage, he would say she couldn't go home. That would break her, and she felt the panic rise thinking about a life in London. To marry, she would lose all her freedom, and while Julian promised it would not be so, she didn't know if his words would ring true when the time came. It wasn't just her, it was Juno, and this was the first time that Delilah ever felt coming back to London was a mistake.

The castle came into view as the carriage made the turn off the road and started up the long driveway. The sun was setting behind the stone, where ivy crawled up on the east side that she knew would face the sunrise. If Delilah thought her godmother's gardens were extravagant, these would rival even those of the royal castle. The gas lanterns were already lit by the doors, and two housemen stood outside. The carriage slowed and came to a halt.

A houseman opened the door of the carriage and took her hand to help her down, and Julian stepped out of the home. He was dashingly handsome in his tapered coat and dark slacks, his boots polished to a shine. A warm smile crossed his face as she moved toward him, abating some of her fears as he took her hand.

"Delilah, you look ravishing," he said and kissed her knuckles. "I trust the travel wasn't too uncomfortable on you."

"It's the countryside. It's no different than the cobblestones coming from the docks," she replied.

"And the fact that I find you ravishing?" Julian asked lightly.

"Pretty words are not needed. You already have acceptance of your proposal."

"But not you? You were much more amenable to me before the announcement of our engagement."

She glanced at him. "That was before I feared not seeing my home again."

"I promised you that we would live on your island," Julian pointed out as he led her to the dining room.

It was a massive area with a large, polished table sitting in the center with eight chairs around it. There were also smaller tables, each with two chairs for more discreet conversations in larger dinner parties. Fresh flowers stood on white pedestals, and large windows overlooked the gardens. Sculptured busts of the line of Blackshire men were in different areas of the room. Julian's face was easy to find because his hair was longer than any of his ancestors'. They even had his decadent lips carved to perfection. It was as if Delilah could still feel them as he languidly kissed her.

"Shall we sit?" Julian asked, pulling out a chair at the table. "Dinner will be served in a matter of minutes. Then we can share a sherry in the sitting room."

"Sounds lovely." Delilah sat and made sure the skirts of her midnight-blue dress fell neatly around her.

"You are being very quiet." Julian sat at the head of the table, while she was in the seat to the right of him.

"Isn't that how a wife is supposed to be, quiet, unassuming, and submissive?" she replied.

He frowned. "Not for me, I will have you exactly how you were when we first met. Brave, wild, free, barefoot at your own engagement party. You don't have to change one thing about you."

"Don't I?" She murmured the question.

He took her hand and held it until she looked at him. "No, then you wouldn't be the woman that captured my heart."

"You say things like I captured your heart, when there is so much fear in mine," she admitted honestly. "When I become your wife, what does the future hold?"

"Happiness, children, evening walks on the beach barefoot with your husband," Julian replied with a smile.

Delilah said nothing else as the first course of the meal was delivered, fresh poached fish in a creamy broth. She took her first sip and found it the usual for English dining, lightly salted with no real flavor. She missed the cooking of Juno's mother, who never created a meal that wasn't simply magnificent, using herbs and spices to enhance the taste of the meats.

"Not to your liking?" Julian asked as he took a spoonful of his own soup.

"It's palatable," Delilah answered as her wine was poured. "I am accustomed to more bold flavors, but this is London, and many things I take for granted are not easily accessible here."

"Sugar, salt, spices?" Julian asked.

She nodded. "It always amazes me that taxes on these things are so high in the British Commonwealth when they own practically every country that creates these goods. And apparently, learning how to use such spices or incorporate them into meals is less important than selling them for profit."

Julian's laugher was rich. "A wonderfully perceptive assessment. In my travels, I have encountered the same things."

"And where have your travels taken you?" Delilah asked while she used her spoon to break the rolled ball of fish.

"Africa, the Middle East, Asian countries, and America surprisingly," he answered easily.

"And which was more interesting?"

He thought for a moment. "The Americas, the land is wild and free, beautiful. I saw from the cities to the West, where cowboys roam."

"And people my color are enslaved while their indigenous people are killed off." Delilah offered her assessment bluntly. "I've read the horrors, and Ian Saur has threatened to take me there, where he can destroy me with no repercussions."

"We'll not sour the mood of our time together with his name," Julian said with finality in his voice. "God forbid he had actually gotten you to that country. I would burn it to the ground to find you."

Delilah took another delicate sip of her soup. "A thoughtful response, but in the wilds of that country, I would surely be dead from the ship. Throwing myself into the sea is preferable to being touched or manhandled by him or anyone."

"Then I would fight the heavens to bring you back as well." Julian's voice was husky, and when she looked into his gaze, she saw that he meant every word he said.

Their dishes were cleared away for the second course, stuffed pork with an assortment of vegetables, including potatoes and peas. As she cut into the meat with her fork, Delilah asked a question that plagued her mind.

"And our wedding night, will I be forced to submit to your sexual advances? That way I can prepare and not cry or be afraid."

Julian cleared his throat at her direct question. "I will never do anything that would cause you fear or harm. You choose how our wedding night, and every other night, goes. I will never force my intentions on any woman. I'm a patient man and want to see you writhe in pleasure, not shiver in fear."

"I've never taken a lover to my bed. You would be the first," Delilah informed him in a practical manner. "But I have read many various ways to please a man with my body, hands, and mouth."

His utensils clattered on the plate as he coughed around a bite of food. He took a long sip of wine before he could speak. "My God, woman, are you trying to kill me?"

She looked at him curiously. "I would think you would be more excited to know that I have read such things to bring you pleasure."

"We will bring each other pleasure, my darling Delilah," Julian answered. "But when you say things like that, one can only think about touching your bare skin and feeling it next to mine. Then my desire becomes a flame, and I don't want to make you afraid of me."

"I understand now. Such things should be spoken of in a more intimate setting." Delilah nodded. "Very well, we'll speak of it on our wedding night."

"Which cannot come soon enough for me." Julian's voice took on a sensual timbre. "Just to sleep with you in my arms will be gratifying enough, if you so choose, on our wedding night."

"That's not what I've been told about men," she admitted and looked down at her food, her thoughts making her appetite decrease. "It's not all you men—people. I was not treated well here as I grew up. I went from being an annoying child to something people want to hurt and destroy. My governess used to lock me in a chest in my room. She would laugh as I screamed. Enclosed spaces and the dark—"

"I am so sorry that happened to you," Julian told her gently and took her hand. "There are no words that can offer comfort for what evil people do."

"All because of the color of my skin." Delilah lifted her eyes to look at his face. "I can't be captured again. To me, London is just like that dark box, with little air, except inside it is men who think my body is theirs to destroy and people who look down on me."

"That's not going to happen," he promised. "In a few weeks, we will be on your ship heading home."

"I hope you speak the truth," she said bluntly. "Because just like throwing myself in the ocean, I will find my escape from this place to be free of it."

Julian took her hand and squeezed. "I would expect nothing else from you, but it won't be the case."

Delilah nodded. "Very well, tell me more about your plans, about what you expect to do while you're in Barbados."

He chewed slowly. "In all honesty, there is corruption there. Some of the men of industry have been reported as not giving the Crown its fair share. Your governor general sent notification to the Queen, and she, in turn, asked me to investigate and put things to rights."

"Was this before or after your plan to marry me?" she asked.

"A little of both," he replied. "I needed permission to marry you, and Her Majesty was quite pleased to agree to the union. It serves two purposes. It gets her someone on the island to ensure their fair share. It also gives more validity to those of your color within the monarchy, not just a titleship with no real strength behind it."

"I seem to merit more for others than they do for me." Delilah's laugh was hollow. "Isn't that always the truth of it for women in general?"

Dinner continued with Julian picking lighter conversation pieces in an effort to make her relax and enjoy the evening. After a few tense minutes, Delilah found that she laughed at some of the levity provided by childhood stories and adventures that might not have gone as well as he thought they should.

After dinner, he led her to the sitting room. The fire was lit, and she could see why—the rain began to come down in earnest outside. In Barbados, while the air would still be warm when it rained, Europe tended to have a chill, and the damp settled into your bones quickly. Even though she wasn't outside, Delilah rubbed her arms and shivered.

"Here, sit," Julian encouraged and placed a soft wool blanket around her shoulders. "The fire will warm you, and so will this."

He handed her a small glass of sherry, and she took a sip and grimaced. "I should've brought some of the rum. Sherry is so sweet."

"I hear that Bronwyn holds tight the crates you bring her," Julian teased. "Would you actually be able to get one?"

Delilah laughed. "This is true, but I brought her three crates of ten this time, one spiced and two of the regular. Still, she does ensure they are secure for her use only."

"And by next year, you do hope to increase the number of barrels." Julian sat beside her.

She nodded. "Yes, with your distribution help, I can increase production and build another warehouse, plus add additional space to the distillery with the money that Bronwyn has put into my accounts. A pre-wedding gift, she said."

"You'll be married to a very wealthy man. I could give you the funds," he pointed out.

"Business and pleasure do not do well when mixed." Delilah spoked pointedly.

Julian took the empty sherry glass from her hand and placed it on the table next to them before bringing her gently into his embrace.

"I plan for our business and pleasure to work together quite well." He kissed the corner of her lips. "You have to place your trust in me sometime, Delilah. Haven't I proven that I am your protector and ally? Enough for you to trust me as your husband to do you no harm?"

"I want to, but in a place where I've known only harm, I find it hard to believe anything," she admitted with a sigh. "Here I feel fractured, raw, unable to hold myself together, but I have to. I can't show weakness, lest I be eaten alive by the wolves in the shadows."

Julian caressed the soft skin of her cheek, and she closed her eyes and pressed her face into his palm. "Then we should leave now—go to Barbados—so you can be happy and see me for who I am."

A smile curved her lips. "I think Aunt Bibbie would hunt us both down for taking away her wedding plans."

Julian laughed. "She would get on a ship for that without hesitation."

"That or grandchildren," Delilah added.

"Yes, please, I'd like at least seven."

"Sir, I don't think my body is built for that many of your offspring," she gasped.

"We'll have to just see what fate brings us," Julian replied just before he settled his lips on hers for another kiss.

This time he didn't stop. Instead he supped at her lips until she wrenched her mouth away to take a gasping breath. Julian took the opportunity to kiss his way down her neck to the rise of her breasts, where he pressed his lips to each mound almost reverently.

"Just a little taste, my darling." He looked up at her as he opened the blue lace on the front of her dress with deft fingers. "Let me show you what my lips can do."

She shivered but nodded.

"Trust."

Julian whispered the simple word. As their lips met, the intensity increased. Heat coursed over her body, not from the warmth of the fireplace but from what Julian created. He freed her breasts from the confines of fabric and kissed his way down to the soft mounds.

He groaned. "Your scent, the feel of your skin intoxicates me."

Delilah opened her mouth to answer, but what could she say? How could she explain the feelings assaulting her body? Instead, she let her fingers slip into the hair at his nape and held her head to him as his mouth teased the soft peak of one breast, then the other. He muttered her name, a hungry sound, before he pulled her nipple deep into his mouth. A soft cry escaped her, and while the feelings were something new and exhilarating, they also caused fear to rise within Delilah.

"Stop," she gasped. "Please, Julian, stop."

He pulled away reluctantly and helped set her bodice to rights. "I didn't mean to scare you. I shall restrain my desires."

"It pleased me—but it's all so...should my body feel like this when you touch me?" Delilah looked up at him with a question in her eyes.

"Yes." He cupped her cheeks and kissed her quickly. "It means your attraction burns for me as mine does for you. But as I promised, we shall take this as slow as need be. And with that, I think it's time I escort you home."

"But the guards are with me, and the coach ride wasn't long compared to others," Delilah protested. "You needn't go out into the rain."

"The roads are dark and wet. Anyone from highwaymen to those who would harm you could lay in wait," Julian replied and held his hand out to help her rise. "I will be on my horse to follow you home."

"Very well, I thank you for an interesting evening," she sighed.

"Enjoyable?" he prodded.

A laugh rose quickly to her lips. "Very much so."

After a soft kiss, in a matter of minutes, she was bundled into the carriage with the guards and Julian around her for protection. At the grand duchess's mansion, he inclined his head as a goodbye, before he and his men rode off and were lost in the darkness. She longed for home, but also now, it felt like she longed to be in Julian's arms.

Delilah was scared to trust, but he made her feel safe, not just by words but by action alone. They were to marry, and she was becoming accustomed to the thought of being his wife. Everything else was uncertain. But she would have to take the daring step to believe in him, a step that could lead to happiness or her downfall.

THE SMELL OF HER WAREHOUSE was fresh and clean as she went through the books meticulously kept by Junior. The barrels were packed high to the ceiling, and neat rows of crates filled with bottles were there as well. Nestled within was the rum featuring her label, and a sense of pride filled her. The warehouse was already half empty, with distribution going out to all who had purchased from this offering she brought from the island.

The spiced rum was gone, and most of the brown, and now the white and the bottles were left. They had made a tidy profit from what she saw in the books. The money, Junior always secured on The Sun Catcher in the dead of night so that even the crew didn't know where she hid the safe. She trusted everyone on her crew—they were handpicked by her—but money could always change a man's heart. Delilah had no naive notions of loyalty past each journey. She was fair, but greed was an unknown viper that struck when it was least expected.

Junior had gone for some errand this morning, leaving her working on the books. He would answer any questions she had when he returned, and they would go to her ship to take his pay from the safe. It was how they worked together. Junior wouldn't deduct anything from the warehouse profits until she was there. That was how loyal he was. His pay was enough to keep him comfortable until she returned to London, and he still worked for her godmother as well.

Delilah couldn't help but wonder what meeting he had gone to. Junior was not someone you could call a people person. He was blunt and to the point, assessing each motivation and action before he truly let people in. He was such a stalwart, upstanding, and honest man, and she trusted him like no other. With the expansion of her space with Julian as a backer and her husband, she wanted to ask Junior if he would consider returning back to Barbados with her. She needed a good person there at her back, and he always hinted about wanting to sail across the seas to the Caribbean. This could be a good time for the move to take place.

Of course, Delilah wasn't at the warehouse alone. Two of Julian's guards were outside the door, so when she smelled smoke, she thought nothing of it. Maybe the blacksmiths had set some straw on fire since those sparks could go anywhere.

But she began to cough and opened the door of the office at the top of the stairs in a little loft area. The smoke was thicker down below, and she rushed down the stairs, seeing flames in the far corner of the warehouse. If they reached the rest of the rum, the barrels would crack, and the alcohol would make the fire burn even hotter.

Delilah made her way to the door and banged on the solid wood. "Hello? Hello? Please help me!"

There was no sound from outside. Where were Julian's guards? She kept banging as the acrid smoke made her cough, and she could feel the heat coming closer.

Delilah rushed back up the short set of stairs to the office and went in, closing the door. She'd seen men cover themselves with damp cloth to get their animals away from a fire in the cane fields. There was a water pitcher filled to the brim, and she used that to douse her hair and clothing as much as she could. She ripped the bottom of her skirt enough so she could shove the fabric under the door to keep the smoke and flames out. The fire made a savage sound as it ate the wood of the warehouse, and she heard the first explosion of a cask of rum, making her cry out in fear. Delilah used the heavy paperweight from the desk to break one of the panes in the window.

After sucking in some clean air, she screamed outside, "Help me! Fire! I'm trapped! Please help!"

A woman stopped and looked up in alarm. "Miss! I'll get the fire brigade!"

She ran off screaming "Fire!" until men came with buckets and began a line to try to douse the flames. If Delilah's warehouse went up, it would take many others with it.

The smoke began to overtake her. She didn't know how long she would last. Even the air outside seemed thick with smoke. Delilah couldn't breathe, and she felt her vision blur. She slipped to the ground slowly, her face pressing against the warming wood as her consciousness became fuzzy and gray. Her last thought before the darkness took over was that she would burn, and Julian would find her charred remains, unrecognizable, because evil people wanted her dead.

JULIAN RACED FROM HIS offices to the warehouses on the dock with Junior Carver on his heels. One of the boys found Junior to let him know that the warehouse was on fire and his mistress was trapped within. As they rushed outside, he could see the thick black smoke rising into the air.

"We still have rum stores left," Junior called out to them. "If the fire gets to them, nothing will be left, not even Miss Le Croix."

"These fucking bastards," Julian snarled as they ran.

Where were the guards he'd left? He didn't want her alone while he and Junior met. If they had betrayed him, the two men better hope they could find a hiding place in this world that he couldn't reach them.

Both he and Junior skidded to a stop when they saw the flames rising from the Le Croix Distillery warehouse. His heart dropped. The back end was engulfed, and he could see the window cracked. People and the fire brigade threw buckets of water on the flames, trying to knock them down, but Julian knew that before he got inside to get his future wife, she would be dead.

"We've got to get in there," Julian told Junior. He was already taking off his coat and dunking it into the blacksmith's water trough. "Saddle blankets, now! Soak as many as you can!"

The magistrate put a hand on his shoulder to try to stop him from going inside. "Your Grace, the fire is much too large. I can't let you go in there."

"It's a wonder you can't let me go in, yet none of you raised a hand to get my fiancée out," Julian grated out. "Trust me when I say this matter will be looked into, and before the sun rises tomorrow, you will be looking for another position."

"She's just another darkie putting on airs," the magistrate spat out.

Julian hit the man so hard his mouth bled profusely. "She is niece to the grand duchess, and my fiancée. She is also favored by the Queen herself. I'll be in your office tomorrow, and you better be there."

With that, Julian and Junior, covered in soaked blankets, rushed inside the warehouse. The flames were already in the rafters, and without looking at the rum stores, they ran up the steps that were beginning to burn. Junior put a boot to the door, and even though the smoke made his eyes water, Julian could see Delilah lying on the floor. He pulled her up easily as he heard fire eating the wood down to nothing and the beams beginning to fall.

Junior threw a soaked blanket over her face. "We have to go! It's coming down around us!"

The steps were engulfed now, yet they braved the flames and then jumped past the last step down to the floor. Julian dashed across the expanse to the open door with Junior on his heels. They barely made it out before the roof collapsed inward and the structure began to fall.

Julian moved away, Delilah lay unmoving in his arms. The crew of her ship was there, faces etched with worry and anger, and he knelt on the ground and cast off the damp blankets from around himself and her face.

"Delilah...love, answer me," he begged and tapped her face.

Junior came back. "I have the doctor from the clinic with me."

"You have to lay her out, Your Grace," the doctor said.

"She'll not be lying on the fucking ground outside a burning warehouse," Julian snarled.

"Her lungs need clean air. I can explain how you do it while you hold her," the doctor said gently. "Tilt her head back. While pinching her nose, you take a deep breath and seal your lips around hers. Give her your life breath."

Julian did as the doctor explained and then looked up at him when nothing happened.

"Do it again, and again, until she coughs and begins breathing," the doctor said.

Julian kept trying and trying until Delilah gave a soft cough. Her breathing was slow, and she didn't open her eyes.

"We need to get her to my clinic so she can be treated," the doctor said, standing up.

"She is safe nowhere. You can follow us to the grand duchess's mansion and treat her there." Julian's voice held no room for argument.

"Her Grace has her own doctors," the man pointed out.

"But I want you," Julian said firmly as he stood. "I know you, Dr. Michael Delaney. You treat those who have no way to pay, who are considered the dregs of society, and you treat them all fairly. You'll follow us to her godmother's, and there you will treat her."

"Very well, sir," Dr. Delaney agreed.

"Send word to the grand duchess that we are on the way and to have her room prepared," Julian ordered. "Bring a carriage around immediately."

A messenger ran off after Junior put a few coins in his hand.

Junior looked at her crew. "How do I handle the men and women of The Sun Catcher ?"

Julian turned to those who stood close by to see their mistress. "I will send word as soon as we know she will be well. Till then, half of you return to the ship and to your duties. The other half, these streets are yours. Find who did this by any means necessary. No harm or actions will come against you. Decide among yourselves who does what. When they are found, bring them to me."

With that, Julian got Delilah into the carriage, and it was a race to the grand duchess's mansion. By the time they turned into the courtyard, Bronwyn was there wringing her hands in distress while Juno stood beside her openly crying. When he lifted Delilah from the seat, a cry escaped her lips, and Juno began to cry harder.

"Take her upstairs to the left. Those are her rooms, and they have been prepared," Bronwyn said urgently. "Juno will help get her out of these soiled clothes."

"This is Dr. Michael Delaney. He will see to her," Julian told her godmother.

"I have my own doctors..." the grand duchess began.

Julian took her hand. "Bronwyn, I put two men to protect her at the warehouse, and we can't find them. The magistrate and his constables sat outside and watched the warehouse burn. He called her a darkie, and I made him bleed for the insult. Your doctors may have the same view of Delilah and her station in society. I do not trust anyone at this moment. Dr. Delaney runs a small clinic and takes it upon himself to help those who live in the Acres. I've known of his reputation as a good man and doctor, even going against the constables for his patients. He will see to her."

Bronwyn firmed her lips and nodded. "If they want war when it comes to my Delilah, they now have one. Find anyone involved. I'll see them hanged before she sails once more."

"My vengeance will start with the magistrate and constables who did nothing." Julian's voice was deadly. "Until then, we wait for news from Dr. Delaney."

Junior spoke up. "Sir, if I may, I would rather be out searching for those who tried to do her harm. I will have names before the night is through, including the guards who were at the door when I left for our meeting. If I had only stayed..."

"No one expects the evil in the minds of men," Julian replied. "Go find Cameron Hershel and tell him what has happened. He will work with you. Also get word to James Bergin to meet me at the magistrate's tomorrow morning, and to bring several trusted men."

"Yes, sir." Junior nodded.

If there had been any doubt about Junior Carver in his mind, it was long gone. The man had run into a fire with him to ensure Delilah's safety. While they waited, he recalled their conversation in his office. Junior answered each question without blinking an eye, even telling him in no uncertain terms how he enacted his own brand of vengeance that night when he saved Delilah.

"Lord Gibson wears a brand of his own because of what he did to my mistress," Junior told him. "As they ran, I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. I stabbed him—with the very same hot knife they used on her skin—in the upper thigh and left it there while he screamed in pain. I was told later it took additional surgery to remove it. The heat sealed the skin around the blade, and it had to be cut away."

"That deserves a good whisky." Julian poured a glass.

"My goal is to find people we can trust so I can travel with Miss Le Croix. She wanted me to oversee the distillery there at some point," Junior admitted. "It's my hope to be on this journey with her when it's time to go."

"With our contract, I am sure we can set good people in place before we leave." Julian lifted his glass. "To our upcoming journey to the islands."

"And away from this dreg of a place." Junior frowned. "It sickens me sometimes, the disparities, poverty, hate."

"I agree." Julian nodded. "I'm glad that Delilah found an ally in you."

"And a husband in you," Junior said. "I know there were plans to take all she built. I believed I could protect her interests in Barbados if the worst happened."

"With our marriage, this will not be an issue any longer, but still, to have you working at her distillery will put her mind to ease," Julian assured him.

Just after they sipped their drink, they heard about the fire and rushed out, knowing it was Le Croix Distillery. And now they waited. Julian was acutely aware of everything around him, from the soft sniffles of Bronwyn to the way he clenched his hands in anger. He wanted to be like Junior, out destroying the world for his mistress and Julian for his love. Tense seconds ticked by waiting for the doctor to give them news on her health and if she would survive the smoke she inhaled from the fire. They better hope to God she did, because if Delilah were to die, there would be nothing to keep him from tearing London high society apart.

"Well?" Julian said briskly.

"She has inhaled a lot of smoke, and her lungs are not clear. Her breathing is labored," Dr. Delaney replied. "I am trying an inventive new idea I have heard of where an apparatus and mask are used to push air into the lungs and clear away the smoke. The bellows are squeezed, and the air goes into the mask attached, so it pushes good air into her lungs."

"Will this work?" Julian asked.

Dr. Delaney shook his head. "I'm unsure at this point. She was breathing in smoke for an extended period of time. If the constables had gotten in to get her sooner...I would be more positive."

"They didn't go in. None of them did," Julian said grimly. "It was me and Junior who went in while they stood outside and watched knowing she was inside. I dear the men we put to protect her might also be involved."

"Julian, tell me it isn't so, after we paid them so well!?" Bronwyn cried out. "I've helped that bastard of a magistrate, helped secure his position, and they left my poor Delilah in there to die! Now these men took my money and also left my girl to die. I will not have it!"

"Bronwyn, I shall indeed make sure that this is remedied before the sun rises tomorrow." Julian stood. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not from this standpoint. I shall stay and continue to monitor her condition. I am hopeful that her lungs clear," Dr. Delaney said. "I will need help with taking turns using the bellows. Juno is working them now, and when she tires, I'll take over."

Bronwyn held out her hand so she could be helped to her feet. "We shall all help, including the staff." She looked at Montgomery with a stiff nod. "Get anyone and everyone who can assist. I'll not need dinner until I know my Delilah is safe."

"Yes, ma'am." Montgomery turned to do her bidding.

"I will return shortly, I have a promise I need to fulfill," Julian said. "There is a matter that needs to be dealt with. If Junior and Cameron return, tell them to wait for me. I have a meeting at the magistrate's office."

Julian stepped inside the room long enough to see Delilah lying still in her bed, her thick hair framing her face. He took her hand and squeezed it, kissing the soft skin repeatedly and willing her to open her eyes.

"You fight, love. Fight your way back to me," he whispered.

He wanted to rage at the world, bring it all down around their ears, so everyone knew how his retribution would feel because of what happened to Delilah. He strode briskly out of the room and went down the stairs and out to his coach.

"The magistrate's office, Jack," Julian said briskly. "There are scores to settle."