When the Duke Returns(111)

Isidore almost screamed, but stopped herself. Simeon didn’t deign to say a word in response to the blow. He just looked deliberately from face to face, studying the five men clustered around him.

“Here, what you doing then?” one of the prisoners said, obviously uncomfortable that Simeon didn’t make a sound.

“Memorizing your faces,” he said. The rage so potent in his voice made Isidore shiver.

“I’ll just give him two black eyes, why don’t I?” the man snarled. “That’ll stop him.”

Isidore’s stomach lurched. She couldn’t stay here, hidden, while they beat Simeon. She had to startle them enough so that they would drop his arms, because then he could knock them all out with his kick. Soundlessly, she crept back down the stairs. She needed a weapon. Unfortunately, the king’s yacht didn’t seem to have any weapons. She couldn’t even find a heavy candlestick.

Suddenly, she had an idea, and flew back into the ladies’ salon, retrieving her diamond slippers. These should get their attention. She ran up the stairs again, breathing hard, and found that not much had changed.

The same two ruffians were clutching Simeon’s arms, though thankfully he didn’t seem to have taken any more blows. From what she could understand, they were going to bargain his life for their freedom.

She waited for the right moment, eased open the door, and tossed out the diamond shoe.

It somersaulted in the light of the torches illuminating the deck and landed just in front of the group. For a moment they all stared at it, as if a bird of paradise had landed on the deck. The shoe glistened with jewels.

Then, with a muffled shout, all five men dove for it.

Simeon kicked the man closest to him so hard that the convict flew back against the wall of the yacht. In a swift, swirling circle he sent the other four spinning to the deck, one after another. Isidore wrenched open the door and flew at Simeon. His muscled arms closed around her and he threw himself backward, overboard.

They struck the water with such force that Simeon’s arms spun away from Isidore’s waist. Icy water closed over her face and her heavy skirts pulled her down into the acid-tasting water as effectively as if she had stones in her pockets.

Something brushed her face and she thought of waterlogged corpses rescued by the Dead Watch. Frantically, she beat her arms, trying to rise to the surface, but she couldn’t counteract the plummeting weight of all those diamonds.

Then, like a benediction, like a prayer, Simeon’s strong arms closed around her and he pulled her upward with a strong, smooth stroke. Isidore broke the surface, choking and gasping for breath.

“Easy,” he said, holding her up. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

“I—I thought—”

He gave her a hard, swift kiss. “I want you out of the river.” And without another word he began towing her through the water as if she were no heavier than a babe. Isidore had just enough time to be confusedly grateful for Simeon’s passion for running and the strength it gave him. (Turquoise Coat would have left her to sink or, rather, he would have plummeted down right next to her.)

Then they were at the shore, where a hundred helping hands reached out to them. Simeon was up in a flash, turning around to pull Isidore up the bank. Her skirts seemed ten times heavier than they had been, and the weight of water and jewels made the silk of her overskirts stretch past her feet, tripping her. Finally Simeon just bent down, picked her up in his arms and walked up the slope.

Everyone on the bank was screaming and howling “Hurrah!” The noise was deafening. Isidore felt a sudden breeze, took one appalled glance down, and realized that the diamond-encrusted cloth of her bodice had given up its battle with gravity and had fallen below her nipples. She looked up, horrified, and met Simeon’s eyes. He was laughing.

A second later they were on the bankside, and Simeon wrapped a coat tightly around her. “I can’t let all of London know what they’re missing,” he said into her ear.

“Oh, Simeon,” she said, hiccupping, half-crying. “He struck you, Simeon. He struck you and I couldn’t do anything to stop him.”

“You did stop him,” Simeon said. “I might have died, but for you.”

“And then we were in the water,” Isidore said with another hiccup, “and I was going down, and all I could think of was the Dead Watch and how they would gloat when they were sent to find my body.”

“Never,” he said, his arms tightening around her. “I would never allow that to happen.”

“Don’t ever let them be the ones to rescue my body, Simeon,” she said. “Promise me.”