Thread: Au-delà du Temps: Beyond Time (LeatrixSage x SacrlettRose)

You, a dark voice cut through the fog that was closing in on Addie to make her stop and look up from her feet. Shed wrapped her arms around herself to hug her waist, and she forced her arms down as she found herself face to face with a bearded giant. She vaguely recalled that he had helped carry Wessex onto the ship, and when he indicated she should go with him, she went along quietly enough. Addie simply didnt know what else to do. As the man marched up to the carriage, he told her that Wessex was asking for her. Adelaide snorted, of course he was. His prisoner couldnt be allowed to get away after all. God, what would have happened had she kept walking? Wessex hadnt hurt her, not really, but this man she had a feeling he could break her in half with those massive hands of his. He tore into the seats and dragged out the package with the pink ribbon and little note. She hadnt noticed what it said before, but after he dumped it into her arms, it caught her attention. It must be for the little girl that she had picked fabric out for. She wondered for the first time if the girl was one of Wessexs bastards, or maybe a niece he hadnt mentioned? No one had said anything about it one way or the other, and she was left to wonder futilely. When the giant picked up dueling pistol, Addie frowned. She really should have kept that, but now hed pocketed it and it was far beyond her reach. Seemingly satisfied with what he had found, he motioned for her to follow, and she quietly fell in line. Around them, men we shouting in French and a language she didnt recognize. It made her uneasy, a sensation that deepened profoundly when the damnedable man lifted her like a doll onto the boat. She wasnt afraid of him, exactly, but she firmly believed that was because she was in shock and she couldnt feel anything. She followed him into the belly of the ship to the dark, cramped spaces that made her feel claustrophobic. She couldnt imagine how the brawny man could move with such ease when she felt as if there was barely any space to breath. There was a sickly-sweet smell on the air as they walked into the cabin where Roarke was laid. She hadnt noticed it in the coach, but in the confined space, it absolutely reeked. He did have an infection, one that had grown over the hours they had road to finally reach Calais. Addies eyes went from the dark stranger to Wessex as he slurred, glassy eyes examining her face before he smiled like a besotted fool. Addie sat carefully near him so that he could see her better, and she breathed a little more easily when he said her name. She reached out to touch his forehead, finding his skin hot and clammy, and her hand shook as she brushed his hair back from his face. He was sliding in and out between French and English as he spoke, but Addie couldnt drag forward anything to say back to him. She shouldnt care if he died or not. He was already a dead man to her anyway. My sharp tongued harpy. My wife to be. Her heart constricted, her eyes burned, and Addie looked away as Wessex grinned at her. A moment later and he cried out in pain as the demon of a man poured boiling water right through the Marquees side. She blanched as she looked away, her stomach threatening a mutiny if she didnt get away from the smells and sounds of a man dying. Sitting under the strangers appraisal just made it all that much worse. He will die, the brute spoke low and sure, and for reasons Addie had no explanation for, she looked up at the beast of man with a sense of rage. How dare he say that out loud? Va te faire foutre, she hissed at the man, a phrase as close to a fuck you that she could think of as she snatched a clean cloth from the boiling water to clean Roarkes wounds. She hissed as the hot water turned her hand bright red, but she made no further complaint. The pain, and her flash of anger, helped to clear her head. And she was like a dog with a bone, chewing at everything that had pissed her off in the last two days to keep her mind busy and distracted from the smell and the yellow fluid that mixed with Roarkes blood as she cleaned the wound. Even the way Wessex told his friend to take care of her made her angry. At him, at herself, at whatever twisted fate had landed her in his lap in this place. She raged against it all, but outwardly she was quiet and calm. The only outward display of her emotions was the way her eyes reddened as they burned. When the stranger came back he brushed her aside, taking her place while he maneuvered Wessex as if he weighed little more than a child. He stripped his clothes away, and Addie found herself looking away, only to glance back when Roarke groaned from his discomfort. She barely noticed the tattoo on his arm, other than to note that it was there, she couldnt take her eyes away from his face. That roguish, lively man that she had taken so much pleasure in pestering and prodding looked so frail and weak, that he barely looked himself anymore. What are you giving him? Addie snapped in a clipped, hard tone, her French perhaps the cleanest it had ever been as she hovered over the big stranger. He ignored her as he worked, and then gestured for Addie to take his place. She glowered at him, but she followed as he bid her, allowing him to rest Wessexs head in her lap and telling her to use a cold compress to keep him cool. The idiot, he didnt need a cold compress, he needed a metal tub filled with water, salt, and ice to bring his temperature down before his brain cooked but they didnt have any of that, and Addie blamed the beast of a man because she needed someone to blame. Dieu merci, Penicillin, she sighed when he carried in the molded bread. It wasnt as effective as she would like, but it would make a difference. The man did a far better job bandaging Roarke than Adelaide had, and her resentment toward him slipped only a little. He was the help they had needed, she shouldnt be angry at him, but she was. When he asked if it was true, if she was the future wife of Roarke, Adelaide sighed and shook her head. The man kept speaking French when he talked to her, and after recent events, she assumed it would be wise to keep it quiet that she spoke anything other than that. Non, she spoke carefully as the compress that was supposed to be cold warmed in her hand far too quickly. She passed it to the man to have him dunk it in cold water again, and then used it to squeeze the water into Roarkes hair. They needed to keep his head cold, more than anything else, to lessen the chance of lasting damage to his brain from the high fever. At least, the ass has not asked me to marry him. His eyes had stayed closed for some time now, but his breathes still came easily, and his pulse was strong beneath her fingers. He was asleep. Perhaps that was for the best. Im sorry, who are you to Roarke? she asked, mostly because talking was calming, and much more healthy than fostering malice against the man that had likely just done a lot more to help Wessex than she had. His men followed you, so I assume they know you, but he didnt tell me well, much of anything. I know we are off to Mary-old-England, but thats the long and short of it. I dont even know who attacked us. I think Roarke did, though. Someone shouted something about Murat, does that mean anything to you? Adelaide paused as a tension seemed to shiver in the air, her eyes coming up to study the dark man that was watching her. Ah, so it does, she sighed, and then turned her attention back to Roarke. In that case, you know more than I do, Monsieur.