Kiss of the Spindle

by Nancy Campbell Allen

  “This took some doing, my dear, I do not mind telling you. We worried for a moment we wouldn’t have a cake at all.”

  “We worried for a moment we wouldn’t have a ship at all,” Crowe muttered to Daniel’s left, and when Daniel glanced at the man, he saw a reluctant smile twitch.

  Lewis removed the dome, and Daniel stepped around the table to place the small candles on the top tier. “Mr. Quince, you have birthday candle history to share?” He took a box of matches from Lewis and began lighting the three candles.

  Quince cleared his throat. “Yes. A tradition believed to have started with the ancient Romans but brought into the current day by eighteenth-century Germany, the candles represent the glowing moon, and the smoke represents your wishes and prayers ascending to the gods.” He patted Isla’s hand. “If anyone deserves wishes and prayers to be answered, it is you.”

  “Oh, mercy, you are going to have me crying again.” Isla closed her eyes. “Making a wish,” she whispered, and then opened her eyes.

  Daniel held her gaze as she softly blew out the candles. The others clapped and cheered, and he winked at her.

  “Presents!” Quince shouted. “And then we can eat the cake. Bonadea’s present is becoming especially restless.”

  Daniel looked at Bonadea, who was near the tree line, whispering to someone. Or something. “What does he have over there?” Daniel muttered to Lewis, who shrugged. “Blast it all, Lewis, he is supposed to be the practical one.”

  Lewis glanced at him. “I thought I was the practical one.”

  “No, wait,” Bonadea called out as something darted toward the group.

  Isla turned and gasped. She dropped down to the sand and extended her arms, and a small monkey jumped into them as would a child. “Who are you?” she crooned to the little creature. “Mr. Bonadea, where did he come from?”

  Her delight was clear, and the monkey seemed equally besotted. He patted her cheeks and kept turning her face toward his. She palmed his head and held him close as she stood, swaying and stroking his little back.

  Bonadea, looking abashed, joined the group, shaking his head. “He found me earlier this afternoon when I hiked to the third waterfall. He is the only of his species I’ve noticed, although he shares the same genus as many of the others. His kind is often adopted as exotic pets; perhaps you’ve seen some in street shows with organ grinders.”

  She laughed when the monkey rubbed his cheek along hers. “I have indeed. Quite smart, are they not?”

  Bonadea nodded. “Smartest of the lot, near as science can tell.”

  “He must have been quite taken with you to have followed you all day,” she observed, turning the monkey’s face this way and that, examining its markings.

  “Indeed. I’ve studied the species; I speak his language, if you will. I hoped he would linger so that I might gift him to you as a charming, albeit temporary, gift.”

  She leaned toward him. “Thank you ever so much. He is lovely, and I shall enjoy his company as long as possible. No family that you noticed? No mother?”

  “No, which leads me to believe that either whatever family he did have here was killed by a rival group or perhaps another ship passed this way and this little one was left behind.”

  She frowned and tickled the monkey’s chin. “Little fellow, left behind without so much as a by-your-leave.”

  “Why do women always do that?” Lewis said in an undertone to Daniel. “Show them a small furry animal and they ogle all over it like a child.”

  Daniel glanced at him, brow raised. “I don’t know what kind of women keep your company. Most I know would have run screeching for the ship if something had darted at them like that.”

  “I think I like my women better than yours.”

  “The bulk of my social circle would never be seen in anything less than perfection. Not a hair out of place, not an outfit older than a Season. Plenty of money in the family bank account.” He looked at Isla, the monkey in her arms and his head on her shoulder. “And definitely no affection for small, wild animals.”

  Lewis looked at him. “Well, then, it seems that this woman fits much more into my social circle than yours.”

  “Are you baiting me?” Daniel tried to smile.

  “Mmm, testing the waters, perhaps. I may have been mistaken in my earlier observations about soul mates and all that. May I inquire as to your intentions?”

  He looked at Lewis. “My intentions are to marry her and buy her an island.”

  Lewis smiled. “All I needed to know.”

  Daniel looked back at Isla and realized every word was true. He wanted to marry her, wanted to be with her always, to have her in his bed at night and know she was safe by his side. He wanted to know her world, to see her at work, to learn how her brain worked, how she’d formed her business and how she managed it. He wanted all of her so much it spread like an ache in his chest.

  She’d said she wasn’t interested in marriage, that a husband had no place in her life. He’d grown to love her in a matter of weeks, something his cynical self scoffed at, yet it was true. But he did not know if she returned that deep affection. She was attracted to him—but then many women were; he could admit it practically and without guile—but he did not know if she loved him. According to Samson, she didn’t need his money. What she didn’t have in her mother’s empire she’d earned on her own. There was nothing unique he could offer her but himself, and he didn’t know if she wanted him.

  She laughed at something Bonadea said and made her way to Daniel’s side, still holding the monkey. When the monkey reached up with his hand, she held his wrist, and he wrapped his little fingers around her thumb. “I should name him, don’t you think?”

  Daniel smiled, but narrowed his eyes, trying to be stern so he wouldn’t fall on his knees and beg her to marry him right then. “That thing is not boarding my ship.”

  “No, that’s much too long. He needs a shorter name.” She grinned. “Of course he isn’t coming back to the ship. He’s staying here with his other monkey friends.”

  “According to Bonadea, he doesn’t have any other monkey friends.”

  “I shall introduce him to some.”

  “More presents!” Quince called from the fire ring.

  She glanced at Quince. “He is the party king, is he not? His grandchildren must have the most splendid celebrations with him.” Her smile faltered. “Will he ever see them again, do you suppose?”

  “I hope so. Bonadea’s wife and children have a flight booked eight weeks from now to Port Lucy.”

  She nodded, her brow creased. “I know.” She motioned with her head, and he walked slowly with her toward the others. “But that’s different than a man’s grandchildren, isn’t it? They won’t move here, as their parents have lives in England. Will you bring them to visit him?”

  Isla and the monkey looked up at him, and he would have promised her the moon. He nodded, his heart in his throat. “Of course I will.”

  Something roared and split the night behind him, a shell shooting into the sky and setting his pulse racing along with it. Without thought, he wrapped both arms around Isla and took her to the ground, monkey and all, and shielded them with his body.

  Chaos sounded around him, concerned voices, cursing, muttered questions. The monkey screeched, and he felt something scratch at his face. The noise and confusion sounded far away, as though he were in a bubble, and all he could hear clearly was the furious beating of his own heart and his harsh breathing. He gulped for air that wouldn’t fill his lungs quickly enough. They would die. He would see Isla shredded and lifeless before his eyes.

  “Daniel.” Her soft voice penetrated the bubble. “Daniel, look at me.”

  One side of his face was on fire, the other cradled in her palm.

  “Look at me, Daniel. Shh, monkey, stop.”

  He felt her thumb smooth his b
row, and mercifully, the sharp pain on his other cheek subsided. “Breathe with me. In, and out. Good, slow down. Inhale, and exhale.” She kept pace with him at first, slowing by degrees until he breathed with her. He thought of nothing but pulling air in and letting it back out.

  The tunnel of muted noise receded in a rush, and he was suddenly present again. He became aware of people crowding around them, of his arms wrapped tightly around Isla and buried in the sand, of an angry little primate who had stopped clawing his face only because of the influence of a strong empath.

  He shuddered, and a low sob escaped, eclipsing his humiliation. He registered the rawness of his throat, the taut ache of every muscle, the ghost pain in a shredded shoulder he no longer had. How could he live his life this way? He couldn’t control himself. What if he hurt someone? What if he hurt her? He touched his forehead to hers. His eyes burned, and he felt the hot sting of tears that escaped his lashes and fell onto hers.

  Isla’s hand curled around the back of his neck and nestled in his hair. “You’re safe,” she whispered. “We are safe.”

  He swallowed. “I am so sorry,” he managed on a shuddering breath. “Isla, I am so sorry.”

  “Shh. We are fine, Daniel. You’ve no need to apologize. You reacted to what you remember as danger, and you saved me.”

  He pried his eyes open enough to see tears on her face. He didn’t know which of them they belonged to.

  “So, thank you.” She rubbed her thumb along his cheek. “Thank you for saving me.”

  He shook his head and told himself to open his arms, but they wouldn’t move. “I didn’t save you. I nearly crushed you. What if we had been near the waterfall? All those rocks . . . you might have hit your head.”

  “No. Look at where your hand is.”

  He realized his right hand cradled her head, his fingers burrowed deeply into her hair.

  “See?” She smiled, and this time he knew the sheen of tears was hers. “Rocks or no rocks, I was safe.”

  He closed his eyes briefly and released a long, slow breath. “Was it one of the fireworks?”

  She nodded and bit her lip. “I believe so.”

  The monkey squawked, and he realized Isla’s empathic hold on the creature would probably expire soon. “Sorry,” he muttered to the hissing bundle of fur and slowly lifted himself, helping Isla sit up.

  “Apologies,” he said to the group and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand.

  “An accident, sir,” Samson said. The ’ton hovered nearby, the whirring of his gears evident as he was likely sorting through the combined biorhythms, seeking out Daniel’s first, as he’d been programmed to do. “I sense your alarm. Robert was cleaning the dinner remains and placing items into the crates. The fireworks were on the bottom of one, and I believe the matches must have slipped, made contact. I’ve yet to gather all the information.”

  “I understand, Samson.” He cleared his throat. “Was anyone harmed?”

  “Only Robert, sir.”

  Daniel looked across the sand at his chef. Robert’s head was missing, wires protruding garishly from his neck. He grimaced, grateful it was wires and not blood. Bonadea and Quince hovered nearby, and Lewis sat on one of the logs at the fire, his head in his hands, elbows braced on his knees. His friend’s trembling was visible from where Daniel sat.

  Nigel sat near Lewis, his brow drawn in concern, but he didn’t seem to know what to say.

  “Oh, monkey,” Isla murmured. She fumbled in her pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and held it to Daniel’s face. “I’m afraid he scratched you quite fiercely.”

  Bonadea inched closer to examine Daniel’s face. “Luckily this species doesn’t have claws.”

  “There’s looking at the bright side,” Lewis remarked, his head still down. “I hear there always is one.”

  Isla laughed, and some of the tension eased. Daniel stood and helped her to her feet. The monkey glared at him and put his head back on her shoulder. She dusted off her skirt and blouse and smiled gently at him.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, embarrassed beyond words.

  She shook her head. “We all have something we battle. Nobody escapes this life unscathed.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I should clean up, take things back to the ship.”

  She took his hand. “We will clean up soon. Please sit with me. I have more presents to receive, after all.” Without waiting for a response, she pulled on his hand and led him over to the fire circle. She and the monkey sat beside Lewis, and she pulled Daniel down next to her.

  She threaded her arm through Lewis’s. “Doing better?”

  He sat up straight and offered her a half smile. “I’ll be well soon enough. Just takes some time.”

  Daniel nodded.

  “Has this happened to you often? Perhaps since your return from India?”

  Lewis lifted a shoulder. “A handful of times. Mostly around family. I never know what to say, and nobody wants to discuss it, which is fine with me.”

  “Perhaps finding someone to discuss it with would help. I know you don’t want to air all of the details with friends and family, but keeping it all locked inside isn’t good.” She shrugged. “My own opinion, of course. Many would disagree with me.”

  Lewis rubbed his eyes. “I’ll consider it. I would rather just forget it.”

  Daniel completely understood. What he wouldn’t give to forget.

  Isla was proud of the fact that she controlled her tremors. She sat between Daniel and Lewis, occasionally shifting the monkey around to hide the fact that she was still shaking after nearly thirty minutes. Daniel’s distress rolled off him in waves, and Lewis was almost as intense, but he fought harder to tamp it down. He laughed and joked with the others, even traded a couple of comments with Nigel, who seemed as rattled as everyone else at the reaction the rogue firework had caused.

  She ached for Daniel. Her feelings eclipsed her professional concern for Lewis by a landslide. She wanted to protect him from the terror that clearly still lurked beneath the surface. She’d heard of soldiers experiencing mirror reactions to their time spent in battle, often triggered by a sound or a smell. Most hid it, for fear they would be locked away, fit for only Bedlam. They were not lunatics, though, and Isla had just seen her theory proven firsthand by two men who were the antithesis of lunacy. She doubted there were two more practical, lucid men on earth than Daniel or Lewis.

  It would bear further study, and she added it to her mental list of things to pursue when she returned home. How ironic that she’d told her mother she was leaving England for research purposes, and she was experiencing far more work-related issues than she’d imagined.

  She oohed and aahed over the large bouquet of exotic flowers Mr. Quince handed her when they returned their attention to the birthday party. She realized he must have gone inland a fair way to find some of them. “It’s absolutely beautiful. I wish I could keep them alive forever.”

  He nodded. “Put them in water for now, and then hang them upside down in a dark, cool place. They will not be nearly as vibrant when dried, but even dried flowers are beautiful.”

  “I love them.” She set them across her knees.

  To her surprise, Nigel extended a folded parchment to her. She leaned over Daniel to take it, but when she moved to open it, Nigel stopped her. “It is only a small birthday wish. You can save it for later.”

  “That’s kind of you, Nigel, thank you.” She smiled, and it was genuine. The man had made an effort, even with his complex feelings toward her, and that meant something.

  A quiet settled over the group, accompanied by the Victrola which played in the background.

  Isla worried that Daniel would feel he’d spoiled the evening. “I thought someone mentioned dancing?” She was exhausted and feared she could do little more than sway back and forth.

  Nigel withdrew his po
cket watch and clicked it open. “It will be midnight in fifteen minutes,” he quietly observed. He looked at her, his expression unreadable, and then at Lewis and the others.

  Bonadea looked stunned, and Lewis cursed under his breath.

  “Right!” Quince stood and moved toward the tables. “We should, we must—”

  “Leave everything,” Daniel ordered. “We’ll clean it in the morning before we depart for Port Lucy.”

  “The bad weather has cleared, I take it?” Nigel asked him.

  Again, Isla tried to read his expression and failed. His body language gave nothing away, other than tension.

  Daniel nodded. “Smooth sailing, as it were.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “Quite.”

  Isla had assumed her exhaustion had been because she’d been swimming, and then her sunburn had left her feeling rather ill. She’d not realized it was so close to midnight. She fought a stab of alarm as she looked from where she sat to the ship. It wasn’t far, but it was dark. Sitting by the fire had enveloped her in a cocoon of safety. The inky, black void stretched outward, and she took in a deep, shaky breath.

  “Samson, leave it for now,” Daniel called and stood, making his way across the sand.

  “Miss Cooper,” Nigel said, and cleared his throat. “Isla, you seem quite tired.”

  Lewis placed a hand on her elbow, but his attention was on Nigel. “He’s right, Isla. You should return to the ship immediately.”

  “I imagine you will want to wait with the others, help them do . . . whatever . . . needs to be done,” Nigel said to Lewis. “Isla, I can take you to the ship in the dinghy.”

  Isla nodded. He knew the others were shifters, of course he knew, but he didn’t seem inclined to catch them in the act. If anything, he was making every effort to get her away from them, whether for her safety or theirs, she didn’t know.

  Daniel barked another order at Samson, who grabbed the stern of the dinghy, and Daniel jogged back to the fire circle. “Come.” He extended his hand to Isla, but she apparently wasn’t moving quickly enough to satisfy him. He picked her up, monkey and all, and quickly made his way through the sand to the water.