Page 5 of Once Upon a Reckless Rogue

The smile on her face made him smile, too. Elena was proud of her achievement, as well she should be. “I’m sorry but that was bloody amazing. How did you know to do that?”

Frowning, she said, “Why do the English always apologize for everything, but never mean it?”

He chuckled, but even that hurt his ribs. “I don’t really know, to be honest.”

Gathering the blanket, she sat next to him. “I grew up playing in this fort. I know every inch of this place.” She wiped her hands on her apron and then went to her basket. Pulled out a flask. “Drink.”

“No. I’ve had enough sleep.”

“Not poppy, wine.”

She put the flask in his hand and motioned for him to drink, her beautiful sea-green eyes watching his every move. Thomas nearly choked on the dry red wine. He had met many pretty women, but there was something different about Elena Diaz. Was it the confidence she exuded? The way she demonstrated her intelligence in every measured action? The fact that she had saved his life? He wasn’t sure; he hadn’t been awake for more than a few hours in her presence, but she had a familiarity about her that made him comfortable around her. Hell, she’d seen him in the nude altogether. Taking another sip from the flask, he handed it back. She took a few sips, put the stopper back in, and grabbed the basket.

“We must keep moving. We are not safe yet.” She helped him to his feet and gave him a walking stick. So much for resting. This woman had thought of everything. How long had she planned this? He hobbled with the stick in one hand and his other arm over her shoulder. “We will go slow,” she assured him.

Through a crumbling doorway, down some steps out into the open air for a few steps, where he paused to look at the dark sky above. Filled to capacity with stars, it was like the fine silk he had bought for his mother in India, black shot through with silver in tiny star patterns.

Thomas filled his lungs with the sea air, not sure how long it would be before he would be free to do so again. She waited for him, somehow knowing he needed this time, before encouraging him down more stairs.

It was slow going, but they made their way along a corridor filled with empty barrels and boxes and up some steps. Shifting the heavy door open, she walked in. Thomas reached the door and held on to it for support. He needed to catch his breath. Pain ripped through him, but he knew he was so close to being able to rest he just had to muster up a little more courage to make it through the doorway.

Within the large room, there were two straw pallets with blankets on them and an old table with one leg propped up by some flat stones. He collapsed onto one of the pallets. She came and kneeled near him, examining his arm and hand in particular.

Perhaps it was the grimace on his face that made her ask, “Are you in much pain?”

He chuckled. “I have never felt better.”

She lifted his broken arm, and he hissed in a breath. “You must not lie to me, señor captain.”

“Thomas. Just call me Thomas. And I will not lie to you. It hurts like the devil.”

“The devil doesn’t care about us mere mortals. Tomas, I have given you much milk of the poppy in the last few weeks. You will have a craving for it now. So, while we are here, I will wean you off it.”

“Milk of the poppy?” Did she mean opium like in the Chinese den houses in London?

“How long have I been here? At the fort?”

“About a month.”

“A month?” How could that be?

“You will not feel good as the poppy leaves your body. You will be angry at me for not giving it to you. I warn you now I will gag and tie you up for your own health if necessary.”

He’d be buggered if he would let anyone tie him up. “How long will it take?”

“A few days, maybe a week. I will reduce the dose gradually so that you do not feel like your insides are on the outside.”

“Why?”

“So you will not die.”

“I mean why did you help me? Bring me here and hide me? Surely you are in danger for doing so.”

Elena lay down on her own pallet but turned to face him. “My father. He was a doctor. I was his assistant. He taught me everything I know about the body. How it works. I learned from him how to make medicine. A doctor never gives up on a patient. So, I never give up on you.”

“Your father must be very worried about you.”

Her green eyes were serious. “He is not worried. He is dead. You wear my dead brother’s pants and shirt as well. Everyone is dead, but not you.”