“His majesty will have gone below. He doesn’t like the cold. And even if my crew hears you, they won’t help.”
Georgiana didn’t doubt that. But Blade could threaten all he liked. This cowardly bastard wouldn’t shoot her. He wouldn’t dare, not when he’d have to explain it to Southampton.
Shaking with anger, too sickened to look at him, she resolutely faced the water again. “This isn’t the job your employer gave you, Mr. Blade. Now back away from me.”
“My job, missus, was to end when Lord Pinchpenny collected his gold. And that was to be four days ago, when we caught up to that old ship. But now collecting the gold is taking longer, and his majesty isn’t extending the pay, saying this is all one job. Not one of my crew is happy about it—and I’m looking for my bonus.”
And she was supposed to pay it? Seething, Georgiana cranked. “Then go ask Southampton for a hand and leave me be.”
After a short pause, Blade stepped back. Relief touched her for a brief second, then crumbled to horror. He’d moved away from her—and now stood next to the coil of Thom’s air hose, the toe of his boot resting on the line.
“Don’t you dare! I’ll kill you if you do!”
Blade regarded her with hard amusement. “It seems to me that your husband’s diving deeper than most men can. That he even told his lordship the dive was impossible. An accident wouldn’t be no surprise. And then there won’t be questions if you’re dead next. There’s no use for you if your man’s not alive, and if I didn’t do it here, his lordship would do it himself when we went back above. So give me your free hand, missus.”
The filthy disgusting coward. Georgiana glanced around her. There was nothing to protect herself with. And she didn’t dare leave the pump.
“Give me your hand, missus.”
Setting her jaw, she looked down at the water. No bubbles in sight yet. No Thom coming back up.
Blade’s boot pressed down, flattening the hose against the platform boards. The pump wheezed, jolting terror through her heart.
He would murder Thom.
Sick with rage and fear, Georgiana lifted her hand. Blade stepped off the hose, coming around behind her shoulder again. Hard fingers circling her wrist, he pressed the back of her gloved fist to the front of his trousers. Not demanding bare skin or her participation. He hadn’t wanted her touch. He’d just wanted to force her—and to win.
But only for now. Georgiana stared ahead, briefly imagining turning her hand around and crushing Blade’s organ through his trousers. She didn’t dare risk it, though, when he’d likely shoot her and step on the hose again or knock over the pump in his agony. It had to be decisive. She couldn’t allow him the opportunity to use his gun or react. So she watched the water, sending air to her husband and killing Blade a thousand times over in her head.
As she would in truth.
The moment he’d stepped on Thom’s air hose and forced her hand, Blade’s days had ended. In Skagen, or in any civilized land, she’d have had another recourse. Law and authority would have punished Blade for this. But not on the seas. Here, there would be no justice except what she took.
Blade believed she was helpless. That was the only reason a coward like him would have ever dared this. But Georgiana was just delaying her response until her husband was safe.
And she needed a weapon. Thom had knives in his arms, he’d said. But to prevent the other mercenaries and Southampton from assuming Blade’s death was an attack on the ship, it had to be done before the platform reached the top, and Thom would have to rip through his canvas suit to access the blades.
He needed that suit to dive for the submersible tonight, and a patched one wouldn’t be as safe. A knife also ran the danger of spilling blood into the water.
Something blunt, instead.
Would she need to fear Southampton’s retaliation? Probably not. He’d said himself that any of the other mercenaries could have fulfilled Blade’s duties. Southampton wouldn’t do anything to risk losing the gold. He’d kill her and Thom if they jeopardized its recovery—and he’d kill them after he received the coins. But for Blade? Georgiana didn’t think so.
Beside her, Blade grunted. Georgiana yanked her hand away. Abandoning the pump for the space of a second, she ripped off her glove and tossed it into the water.
Laughing, Blade stooped to her ear. “That was good, missus. Now if your husband doesn’t bring up the gold this time, he’ll be going down again. And if you want him to suck on a hose when he does, then you’ll suck on mine.”
Sour revulsion burned in her throat. Her face froze into a mask of hate, darker and colder than any she’d ever known. She did not wonder anymore at what Thom had feared in himself when the tower had come down. It must have been like the rage she felt now—all-consuming, such fury that only love and Thom’s very life prevented her from rising up and destroying the man behind her, without fear of his gun or her own death or any other pain.
But this was not an animal’s rage. It was a rightful rage, and purely human.
It filled her to the brim, a furnace that pistoned her aching arm around and around, that fired hotter with each bellowing breath she took. She waited, kneeling and stiff, her body like iron, her eyes fixed on the water.
An hour passed. Bubbles popped on the surface. Then movement under the sea. Relief and joy broke through at the same time Thom did, water streaming around the brass dome. He hauled himself up the tether cable and over the platform, the air hose in a giant coil at his side—he must have been gathering it during his slow ascent. He dropped from the tether, landing with a heavy thud that rocked the platform and rattled the chains.
Georgiana flew to him, her fingers working at the thumbnuts that fastened the dome to the suit. His glass plate had already fogged again. She helped him lift the heavy helmet and at her first sight of his face, fear made her cry out.
“Thom!” Bloodshot, his eyes had more red than white. His skin was pale, and sweat plastered his thick hair to his head. “Oh, dear God. How are you feeling?”
“All right. Only a few rough minutes.” Tiredly, he shook his head. “But I think it’ll get worse before it gets better.”
Heart thumping, she nodded. That was how the divers’ disease came on—worse after he was out of the water. “We’ll get you to bed. Mr. Blade! We’re ready to go up.”
Blade turned to clank the platform chain with the barrel of his gun, shouting up to the airship. A moment later, the platform jerked beneath them and they began to rise.
When she glanced back at him, Thom’s gaze was searching her face. A frown darkened his expression. “Are you all right, Georgie?”
“I will be. Excuse me, please. I have something to do.”
Over the rattling and the noise, he didn’t hear her come. Blade was just turning away from the chain when Georgiana swung the diving dome with all of her strength. The heavy brass helmet rang dully against his skull. Jarring pain shot through her fingers and wrists. Her palms went numb.
Blade dropped in a heap. His gun clattered to the boards. She left it there.
She turned back, but Thom was already at her side, his arms coming around her.
“Georgie?”
“Oh, Thom.” Fighting back sudden, hot tears, she pressed her forehead to the cold brass plate over his chest.
“I’m glad I never pissed you off that much.” His arms tightened before he drew back. “What was it?”
She closed her eyes, hating the tears slipping down her cheeks, but now that it was done, something broke, and she was cold and shaking.
But not feeling an ounce of regret. “He stepped on your hose.”
“Not by accident, I guess.” His voice hardened. “Are you all right?”