The Blackened Soul

by Candace Osmond

  She pushed on the cart, but I stood in front of it. “Why is it such a touchy subject for you? Has Gus… did he do something?”

  Lottie’s face twisted in offense. “Goodness, no.”

  “Then what is it? Why won’t you guys just be together?”

  “I’ve tried,” she replied. “He won’t.”

  Confused, I asked, “What? You mean–” I shook my head, “sorry, I thought Gus was into you.”

  “He is.”

  Now I was beyond confused. “Lottie, you gotta give me more information than that.”

  I could sense her irritation with me, but she never said anything about it. My friend was a quiet and private person, that much I knew long ago. But I told her everything. She knew all about Henry’s dark secret and the struggle I was going through.

  “Augustus is a wonderful man,” she began. “I’m quite fond of him. He’s sweet, kind, and handsome.” The hem of her apron fiddled in her fingertips. “But I…”

  “What? You want more?”

  “No, on the contrary,” she informed me. “It’s he who wants more from me.” Lottie’s pale cheeks flushed pink once again as she seemed to recall a memory. “I kissed him one day.”

  My eyebrows raised, and I smiled. “Really? And he wanted to go further?”

  “Yes, but not in the sense that you think,” she spoke uncomfortably. “Before we go any further, Augustus wishes to be married.” The last word carried with it a heavy sense of distaste.

  I laughed. “God, Gus is so old-fashioned.” Then I remembered that he really wasn’t. Not for that time. “But that’s really sweet. Is that, um, not what you want?”

  “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I never gave much thought to the possibility. I’m a pirate, through and through.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be married.”

  She shrugged. “I suppose not.”

  “Look, just keep doing what you’re doing. You like each other, that much is obvious. Spend more time getting to know one another and if it leads to marriage, then so be it.”

  “Will you and Henry ever wed?”

  A hard lump formed in my throat at the mention of marrying Henry. I told myself a while ago that if he ever asked me again, I’d say yes. But he hadn’t brought it up since I returned to the past and I began to worry if it were off the table.

  “Maybe,” I told my friend and forced a smile, “someday.”

  Just then, someone pushed on the swinging door and it whacked me in the back.

  “Christ, when are we goin’ to eat?” Finn bellowed from behind me. “We’re wastin’ away out here.”

  I turned and rolled my eyes. “Yes, I’m sure you’re whittling away to nothing since lunch.”

  His face scrunched into a grin. “The boys be wantin’ to play cards after we eat.” He sniffed the air and waggled his eyebrows. “And I be wantin’ them buns of yers.”

  I looked at Lottie. “Wheel this out and start serving, I’ll get the buns from the oven in a few minutes.”

  The two of them left and I walked over to the cooking area to grab thick towels we used to grab hot things. As I bent down to check the buns, I heard the doors swing open again.

  “Sorry, Finn, they’re going to be a few more minutes,” I spoke.

  “I’m not here for the baked goods,” the person replied, a deep and raspy voice that tickled my heart. I turned to find Henry, clad in his black leather outfit, blonde hair loose around his shoulders. “I’m just here to check on you.”

  “Check on me?” I asked.

  He came toward me slowly, carefully. I wished he didn’t feel the need to be that way. I wanted him to just take me in his arms, like the rough and tough pirate king I fell in love with. But there was something to be said about a man who didn’t trust himself.

  “I just worry when you’re gone,” he told me. “When you’re not with me.”

  My heart hurt at the sight of his pain and I opened my arms. “Come here.”

  The relief that washed over his body was hard to ignore as he slid into my embrace. I nestled my face in his hard chest and Henry’s hands held me tightly. I relished in the moment. One free of anger and fear.

  Our faces pulled away, so we could bring our foreheads together. My eyes stared at the softness of his pink lips under the blonde facial hair he now sported, and I brought my hands up to caress the velvety hairs before placing a kiss on his mouth.

  “I love you, you know that, right?” I told the man.

  “That I do,” he replied with a grin. “And I you. I may doubt a lot of things, but our love is not one of them.”

  “Remember that thing you asked me back at that tavern?” I dared to say, swallowing hard against my nervousness. He pulled away to get a better look at my face and I could see the confusion on his. “The, uh, the big question? Before I told you about my time travelling secret?”

  Henry’s face washed with realization and he nodded. “Yes, I recall asking you to be my wife.”

  “Is that… is that still on the table?”

  To my surprise, Henry let out a heavy laugh. It was a sound I hadn’t heard come from his body in months and it startled a yelp from me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes crinkling with the wide smile that’d found its way to his face. “I adore you when you’re nervous.”

  I pushed at his chest and turned to check on the buns again. They were ready, so I grabbed the towels and pulled the tray from the cast iron oven. “I’m not nervous,” I began, “just curious.”

  I dumped the buns onto a wooden board as Henry’s hands slipped around my hips from behind. My skin scoured with goosebumps as his scruffy face nuzzled my ear. “Are you asking me to marry you, Time Traveller?”

  I dropped the towels and spun in his arms. Grinning wildly, I replied, “Maybe.”

  “I have every intent on making you my wife, Dianna.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Of course,” he affirmed. “When the time is right.”

  “How will we know when the time is right?” I asked, trying to hide the sarcasm in my voice. We were having a baby, for Christ’s sake.

  “There are some things I’d like to take care of first.”

  I slid my hands inside his leather coat and trailed my fingers up the bumps of his spine. “Like what?”

  “Well, I’d like to have my mother’s ring, for one.” He paused thoughtfully. “But, seeing as it was aboard The Devil’s Heart, I’d like to find or fashion a special ring for you.”

  “I don’t need a fancy ring,” I told him, my hands now caressing the expanse of his back. “I just need you.”

  Henry’s body pushed mine against the edge of the wooden countertop, and I could feel his arousal growing at our nearness. His voice low and raspy, he replied, “I’m yours. As long as you’ll have me.”

  His hungry mouth found mine and engulfed me in a slow but passionate kiss. When he withdrew, his hands reached for the collar of my white blouse and pulled it loose, so he could trail warm kisses down across my shoulder.

  “But I won’t have my wife without a ring. One that means something.” More kisses on my skin. I threw my head back in ecstasy. “And I won’t have my child born a bastard.”

  I snapped to attention. “But that means–”

  “That we’re on a deadline,” Henry finished for me. “Once we reach England, I’ll search for the perfect ring and then we’ll be wed.” He grabbed my thigh and brought my leg up to his waist as he pressed himself against me. “That is if you don’t mind not having a wedding in Newfoundland.”

  I pushed back as he hoisted my rear end up onto the counter, allowing my other leg to secure a grip all the way around his hips. “I don’t care if we’re married in the North Pole. As long as I’m with you.”

  This was the most Henry had been intimate with me in the span of a day. Ever since we set out on our journey. It was only a matter of two days before the nightmares began. Then the violent tossing and turning started which
led to the incident, the breaking point, just a mere two weeks in.

  Ever since then, Henry had refused to relax around me, to touch me sensually. I knew his fear. I felt it, too. But it was nothing compared to the desire I harbored for the man before me. His fingers scrambled with my thick leather belt and the button on my slacks.

  “Curse these Jesus garments,” he mumbled through heated kisses. “Why don’t you just wear a dress like a normal woman? It’d be much easier.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “For whom?” I took over and successfully undid my buttons in half a second. “I hate dresses. I’m not a lady or a normal woman. I’m a pirate.”

  Henry’s mouth widened at my words. “Yes, my pirate queen. That you are.”

  I lifted my bottom, so he could yank my pants off and then grabbed his face. “And you’re my king,” locking in a hard gaze, I added, “never forget that.”

  The kitchen was ours as we hastily removed parts of our clothing, clawing at one another like animals in heat. Pots and pans strewed about as they fell from the counter. Surely, everyone could hear the commotion from the next room, but no one dared come and check.

  Truthfully, I was so lost in the moment with Henry that I wasn’t sure I’d even notice someone entered the room. When I was with him nothing else mattered. The world could have been on fire and I’d never know. The man entranced my soul and I happily handed it over, trusting him to keep it safe and warm.

  I just hoped he trusted me with his.

  ***

  After an evening playing cards with the crew and Finn constantly teasing about the noises he’d heard from the kitchen, I threw down my winning hand and laughed. A few weeks back, I’d taught everyone how to play poker and once they caught on, it quickly became a regular pastime. Back home, I used to join in on John’s poker nights with the guys. We’d play for loonies. There on The Queen, however, we played for jewels.

  The table before us was covered in cards, mugs of rum, and colored gems of all sorts. Rubies, emeralds, sapphires, strings of pearls. We’d split the Shellbed Isle treasure evenly. I insisted on it. We were kings and queens on the sea, waiting to reach land and spend our riches. But there on The Queen, our spoils were nothing more than playthings used to pass the time.

  “Yer cheatin’!” Finn accused for the third time and threw his cards down on the table.

  “I assure you I’m not,” I told him and pushed my winnings back to the center. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to keep any of it. I was just playing for fun.”

  “Oh, no,” he replied and pushed the pile of treasure back to me. “Ye won fair‘n square. I dinnae need yer pity treasure.”

  Gus’s eyes rolled at his friend’s display of childishness. “Christ, Finnigan, just work on your body language,” he suggested. “You’re a dead giveaway. Even I knew when you had favorable hand and when you did not.”

  Gus was right. The Scot vibrated proudly each time he had a decent hand of cards and grinned maliciously around the table like the villain from a kid’s TV show. Likewise, he groaned and grunted like a child each time he had bad cards. I played him every time.

  “Keep the treasure,” I told him. “And if I win it next time, I’ll keep it. Deal?”

  Finn muttered Scottish curse words under his breath and he scooped the pile into a leather satchel. Lottie stood and began to clear the table of dirty dishes. I was about to get up and help her when a hand gently tugged at my arm. It was Charlie.

  “Hey,” I said with a smile.

  He returned the expression and began to jot something down on his notepad. His voice returned but the sound always came out in a strained gurgle of choppy words. I glanced down at the paper.

  Baby?

  I smiled. “It’s good.”

  The young man beamed and nodded before jotting something else down. Something longer. Finally, he turned the paper to me.

  Get to England. See my Mother?

  My heart tinged that he even thought to ask. I threw my arm around his shoulders and inched closer to him on the wooden bench. “Charlie, you don’t have to ask to go see your mother. Once we get there, we could be facing all sorts of dangerous things. Or we could be sitting around like waiting ducks, hoping Maria will just appear. You’re better off at home with your mom. I’ll make sure you get there, okay?”

  Charlie’s eyes twinkled with wetness and he rested his head in the crook of my arm. I knew he was almost a man, just a couple years away, but he’d always feel like the sweet boy I came to know and love. He risked so much for me that night in the woods and it nearly cost him his life. I would forever be in his debt. Besides, saying goodbye to a dying parent is something every child should have the chance to do. That’s a regret I’d take to my own grave.

  Henry sat at my other side on the bench, calm and content with just being near me. He leaned back and crossed his arms as the others gathered their things and helped Lottie clean up before we all turned in for the night. I cuddled Charlie close as the evening grew quiet and the crew retreated to their bunks, one by one. Soon, all that remained were the three of us, and Charlie was fast asleep on my shoulder.

  Henry helped me get him to his bunk and then we both retired to our quarters. I was full of warmth and glee. It filled my belly like the hot soup and I couldn’t wipe the smear of a smile that graced my expression as we undressed for bed.

  “You seem happy,” Henry noted as he slid in next to me under the quilts.

  I threw my arm over his chest and snuggled up. “I am. Things are finally looking good. We’re nearly there. Charlie gets to say goodbye to his mother. And I have a wonderful man to share my bed.”

  “Is that all I am, then?” Henry quipped and rolled to his side, facing me. “A body to warm your sheets?”

  I laughed and inched closer, soaking him in. “The only body I want.” I flicked the tip of my tongue out and slowly caressed the curve of his upper lip, driving out that deep groan I often fished for.

  “You’re a glorious creature, you know that right?” he spoke as he swiftly moved on top of me.

  Grinning at the pirate, I rolled my hips upwards and answered cheekily, “I know.”

  “You’ll be the death of me, woman.”

  I grabbed onto Henry’s hips and pulled him against me. Hard and forceful. “Then let us die together.” Hungrily, I took his mouth in mine, as he so often did to me. Then I pulled away, leaving him breathless, and moved my lips across his as I spoke, “Just for tonight.”

  Chapter Three

  Nothing good ever lasts. That much I know to be true. I was a fool to think Henry’s night terrors would end just because he’d agreed to open up to me. I awoke to the violent jostling of the bed and opened my eyes to find him tossing and turning, muttering incoherently. The cool, pale glow of the moon shone in through the window and cast a ghostly silver sheet over the room, highlighting his twisted expression in a frightening way.

  “Henry,” I whispered and gently pushed against his shoulder. But it only seemed to set fire to his nightmare. “Henry, it’s okay. Wake up.”

  Like a light switch being flicked on, he bolted upright in a feverish panic, but I knew he was still asleep. The nightmare radiated from his body, the tense and fearful emotions hovering like a dark aura around his frame.

  Shakily, I reached out to touch him. His skin drenched in sweat. “Hen–”

  “Don’t touch me!” he shouted and clawed at his chest.

  He could barely catch his breath and it killed me to watch the scene play out before me. The man I loved, trapped in a horrific nightmare. But it was a reality to him. He lived whatever was going on in that mind of his. I pulled the covers all the way down and brought myself up on my knees to hold his face in my hands in an attempt to at least calm him.

  That was a mistake.

  Henry let out a fierce and guttural scream as his massive hands grabbed my arms, shaking viciously. “I said don’t touch me, you witch!”

  I couldn’t help but succumb to his blind st
rength as he pushed me down onto the bed, holding me in place with his desperate grip.

  “Henry, please!”

  He growled in anger and pushed down harder, the force on my bones almost too much to stand. My blood ran cold as his face dipped to mine and his mouth pressed against my ear. “I told you I’d cut your head off if you ever laid a hand on me again,” his words were laced with malice as they spit against my face, “Perhaps I should start with your hands then. Teach you to live without your instruments of torture.” His cold words disturbed me, and I wiggled in his grasp. “The world would be a better place without Maria Cobham.”

  My veins turned to ice. I remained in place as my eyes widened in stone cold fear. He thought I was Maria. I began to hyperventilate but I would not bend. I would not let this man crack me. He was the one broken and I’d vowed to fix it. But his unexpected words opened up a whole new world of pain. It confirmed some of my worries and I hadn’t the faintest idea how to feel about it.

  With a gusty kick, I pushed Henry from my body and he fell to the floor next to the bed with a loud thud. But, still, he would not wake. He jumped to his feet with a roar and I could see the milky flutter of his sleeping eyes. Panic coursed through my cold veins as I witnessed him pull his sword from its sheath that hung next to where we slept, and I flew from the bed. He never swung, just held it out and kept retreating further and further away from me.

  “Henry, please, my God,” I begged with my hands out in a show of surrender. “Wake up! You’re having a nightmare.”

  The man didn’t respond, just continued to back away into a corner filled with his own grunts and wails.

  I took a chance and stepped forward, hand outstretched for him. Palm upturned. “Take my hand. It’s okay. It’s me, Dianna.”

  The sound of my name ignited the rage-fire again and Henry’s sword lifted as he moved swiftly in my direction. “How dare you speak her name!” He swung wildly and blindly as I scrambled backward, searching for my own sword. “I should cut the black tongue right from the gaping hole in your face.”