Honeymoon from Hell IV (Honeymoon from Hell 4)

Two of the most precious moments of her life were gone forever and there was nothing that she could do about it except stand there and let them go.

*-*-*-*

“Son of a bitch,” he moaned miserably, closing his eyes as he willed the damn cramping to stop sending shooting pain throughout his stomach when he saw the look on his wife’s face when she reached down to run her fingers over the silver case that she carried everywhere only to end up curling her fingers into a fist and releasing a small whimper when she realized that the portrait case that matched his own was gone.

He couldn’t allow that to happen, he couldn’t allow her to lose something that brought her peace and made her smile every time she brushed her fingers over the smooth metal case that their families had commissioned as a belated wedding gift for them. It was the one thing in the world that she cherished and couldn’t seem to go five minutes without touching. It was something that he found sweet and endearing and he’d be damned if he was going to lose seeing that every day.

“Shit,” he groaned, pressing his hand tightly to his stomach as he rolled over and forced his trembling legs to work as he clumsily pushed himself up onto his feet and stumbled past Elizabeth, who stood there looking absolutely devastated.

“Robert?” she asked, her voice breaking as she absently reached up with a shaky hand and wiped away the tears rolling down her face, trying to pretend that her heart wasn’t breaking and making him more determined than ever to do this.

“I’m fine,” he ground out, pressing his hand firmly against his stomach and threatening to feed it only chicken broth for the rest of his life if it didn’t calm down long enough so that he could go hunt that coach down and get the small portrait of the boys that Elizabeth loved so much back for his wife.

With his free hand, he absently reached into the matching metal case that he carried everywhere with him, needing the comfort that it normally gave him when he thought he was too tired or sore to keep going. The metal case held everything dear to him in this world and he’d be damned if he gave that up without a fight. Desperation and fear that they would lose the precious trinkets forever, he gritted his teeth, pressed his hand against his stomach harder and-

Promptly passed out.

Chapter 6

Several hours, a twisted ankle, sprained wrist, countless number of bruises and abrasions and an incredibly sore back later…

“If he makes it through the night send someone to get me in the morning,” the pudgy man that had been passed out in the corner of the tavern when they’d arrived earlier, said with a slur as he reached for the mug of ale that he’d demanded as payment before he would give her his professional opinion.

The three shots of whiskey that she had to buy only covered dragging poor Robert up the stairs, dumping him on the ratty old mattress after making sure that he wasn’t already dead so that they wouldn’t have to waste their time or risk throwing out their backs for a corpse. Then again, that was only after she had to swear up and down that Robert wasn’t contagious, which of course she did as soon as she’d managed to stumble into town, chased off a group of boys who were ransacking through their things since the coach driver and the passengers had apparently decided to dump their belongings in the middle of the busy yard where several coaches, and at least one or two horses, had trampled their things into the mud and… other things that she really didn’t want to think about, along with word that they were carrying the plague.

After the warm welcome that they’d received, which involved threats to get the law if they didn’t keep going and a few rocks being thrown in their direction, she’d had about as much nonsense as she could take. So, once she’d rationally explained that Robert had food poisoning and that neither one of them were a danger to the town and had accidentally bloodied the lip of the constable, who’d foolishly grabbed her by the arm and tried to force her out of town, she’d grabbed their things, salvaged what she could and managed to find enough money to pay for a room for the night and booze to make up for splitting the constable’s lip and of course the town’s doctor’s fee, they’d been shown to a room, Robert had been examined by the man who smelled like he slept with the pigs and had been declared to be alive.

For the moment at least, but he didn’t hold out much hope that Robert would survive the night.

Well, that was the town drunk’s opinion and since Robert’s color was looking better, he’d stopped trembling and was now curled up on his side, lightly snoring and snuggling with a stained, lumpy pillow, probably thinking it was her and sighing with satisfaction and mumbling about her biscuits and jam, which of course led her to believe that he was going to be just fine.

She wasn’t exactly sure that she could say the same about herself…

The dress that she was wearing was ruined and the dresses that she’d packed probably were too, except the two dresses the boys had managed to run off with those along with her other pair of walking shoes, her best pair of stockings and of course her purse. Most of Robert’s things had been ruined, but he still had one complete suit, one of the small sketchpads that he liked to carry with him so that he could draw designs before he forgot them, walking shoes, a couple of pencil stubs and the money that he always kept hidden in a secret compartment of his bag for emergencies.

Everything else was gone, her purse, his money clip and most importantly, the miniature portraits their parents had commissioned of the boys and of them. One of the boys or maybe even one of the men having one too many drinks downstairs in the tavern had taken them, probably hoping to get something for the silver cases. She could care less about the cases. They could have them just as long as they gave her back the portraits and the locks of hair that they’d taken from the boys.

Well, that and the man currently mumbling about apple turnovers as he hugged the old pillow tighter. At least he was fine for the moment, she told herself, deciding that was enough for right now. She’d focus on taking care of him and making him feel better and then…then she’d try to find a way to pay to have two more miniatures made. It wouldn’t be cheap, but she’d find a way to have them done.

She’d take in extra sewing, work down at the tavern, the bakery, she’d give up her pin money for sweets, make her dresses last a little longer, anything so that she could re-capture those precious moments before they were lost forever.

But first…

She sighed heavily as she looked at her husband who was now murmuring sweet nothings into his pillow as he snuggled it closer, and she would swear on this to her dying day, giggled in his sleep a few seconds before the color once again leeched from his face and he-

Rolled over and proved that his stomach really was a bottomless pit.

*-*-*-*

“Oh…God…,” Robert groaned manfully as he rolled over and cracked one eye open to confirm that yes, yes he was in fact laying on a cold wood floor.

Fully opening his eyes, he rolled over onto his back with a pained grunt and tried to figure out why he was sleeping on the floor instead of on a bed. He also wondered why he was starving, sore and felt like every inch of his body had been scrubbed raw. Then of course came the question of why he was naked with only a sheet wrapped around his waist and a very angry middle-aged woman standing over him with her arms crossed over her flat chest as she tapped her foot impatiently on the floor, by his head.

“Get out,” she snapped, that damn foot of her never ceasing in its tapping.

And he would love nothing more than to get the hell out of there, but there were just a few things stopping him at the time, like…

“Where’s my wife?” he asked pleasantly even as he shot her a look that told her exactly what would happen if something had happened to Elizabeth. He grabbed hold of the sheet covering his manhood to make sure that the rather angry looking didn’t get a clear shot at it as he stood up, absently looking around the small plain room that looked like it had recently been scrubbed cleaned. The room was still dingy, but at least now it smelled like fre

sh lemons and wax.