Isolated Hearts (Legends of Love Book 2)

by Avril Borthiry

  It took all her effort to close the door behind her. Fearful of being blown overboard, she reached for the ship’s side-rail and grabbed hold of some rigging. Around her, it seemed, the world had gone mad. Shouts of crewmen carried on the wind. Beneath her feet, the ship’s hull creaked and shuddered. As Giselle surveyed the saturated decks, peered up at the straining sails, and squinted across the wild, untamed waves, a thought slid into her mind.

  Perhaps I should have stayed inside.

  She heard a shout nearby, its meaning unintelligible. Giselle turned to see a crewman further along the rail, staring at her with unsettling contempt. She clutched at her mantle, pulling it closed at her chest.

  “I’m looking for Luc de Warenne,” she said, raising her voice over the wail of the wind. “Do you know where I might find him?”

  The man glared at her, crossed himself, and shouted several words in a language foreign to Giselle. She understood the connotation, however. She was, as her guardian had so eloquently stated, trouble.

  “What, in God’s name, are you doing out here?” Luc de Warenne’s voice, so close to her ear, made her jump. A large hand folded around her elbow. “Have you lost your mind? This is no place for a woman.”

  Giselle tugged her elbow free and blinked up at eyes as gray as the surrounding sea. Eyes that glinted with no small measure of irritation.

  “I must agree with you, Sir Luc.” She lifted a wet strand of hair from her face and raised her chin. “Only a man would be stupid enough to cross these godforsaken waters voluntarily. I had no part in choosing this unfortunate method of transport.”

  “Neither did I, my lady.” The knight’s smile held no warmth. “But, since I have the good fortune of being charged with your safekeeping, I must insist you return to your cabin and stay there until I deem it safe for you to do otherwise.”

  Giselle bristled at the contempt in his voice. “Rest assured, sir, I had no say in the decision regarding your good fortune either.” The ship gave a sudden lurch and she stumbled against him. His arms folded around her as she grabbed at his tunic.

  “I have you.” The warmth of his breath brushed across her forehead. “You should not be out here, my lady.”

  Silently cursing the flush of heat in her cheeks, Giselle pushed herself upright and met his gaze. “I would merely like to know when we might expect to feel land beneath our feet. Not such an unreasonable demand, is it? My poor maid is about to expire from seasickness.”

  The tightness around his eyes softened, as did his voice. “Unlike yourself,” he said. “I’m sure the touch of green around your gills is quite normal.”

  Giselle frowned. Did she truly look green? The mere thought of it brought about a fresh twinge of nausea. “Perhaps I am also a little… unsettled.” She reached for the rigging again as the ship’s bow crashed against the waves. “God’s teeth. Is it any wonder? It feels like this vessel is about to fall apart.”

  “Yet another reason why it’s unsafe for you out here.” De Warenne’s hand closed around her upper arm and he steered her back to the doorway. “I was on my way to inform you we should make port sometime during the night, assuming the storm eases. For now, return to your cabin and stay there until I tell you otherwise.”

  Giselle fought an urge to resist him, one born of simple stubbornness, she acknowledged, rather than common sense. In truth, the cramped cabin was preferable to this hellish maelstrom… for now, at least.

  “So, ’tis merely a matter of hours then, till we arrive?”

  “So I’m told.” A good measure of certainty edged his voice, but did not fully reflect in his expression. In truth, Luc de Warenne looked worried as he released his hold on her. “Bar your cabin door, my lady, and open it only to me.”

  With a final glance at the angry waves, Giselle stumbled back to the cabin, muttering words under her breath that would have impressed the most hardened sailor.

  She opened the door and cringed at the sour stench of vomit and piss.

  “Thanks be! I was worried.” Anna, whose nose had, no doubt, reconciled itself to the unpleasant atmosphere, half-rose from her bunk. “Did you learn anything at all?”

  “A few more hours till we reach our port.” Giselle settled the locking bar into its cradle, tossed her wet cloak aside and stumbled onto her bunk. “My irritable escort has ordered us to stay here until we have his permission to leave.”

  “You know I believe your irritable escort to be well chosen.” Anna fell back on her pillow. “Although he is rather stiff at times, I must admit.”

  “The man has an iron rod stuck up his arse.”

  “My lady!”

  Giselle’s laugh turned into a yawn. “I cannot get off this damnable vessel quickly enough. After that, it’s less than a day’s ride to Glenross.” As she pondered, a question arose in her mind for the hundredth time. A twinge tightened her stomach, caused by nerves rather than nausea. “I wonder what he’s like, Anna.”

  The response came in the form of a quiet snore.

  Chapter 5

  From somewhere above the depths of troubled sleep, Giselle heard her name being called. A man’s voice, loud. Angry? No, not angry. Frantic. Followed by several solid thuds, like a fist against oak. Then Anna’s voice, edged with fear.

  “My lady?” A hand landed on her shoulder and gave her a shake. Giselle moved her tongue across the dry roof of her mouth, and drew air through her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose. She smelled… smoke? Was she dreaming?

  “My lady, wake up. Sir Luc is banging on the door. I think something’s wrong.”

  Giselle opened her eyes to darkness, gasping as she realized the smell of smoke was no dream. “Christ have mercy,” she said, stumbling to her feet. “What’s happening?”

  There came three more thuds. Then the locking bar splintered and the door crashed open. Anna squealed as Luc de Warenne’s large, dark silhouette filled the frame, a lantern in his hand. He looked like a man possessed, chest heaving and a wild look on his face. “Both of you, out of here, now,” he said, gesturing with his head. “Hurry. There’s no time to waste.”

  “Oh, dear God.” Giselle’s hand flew to her mouth. “Is the ship on fire?”

  “The cargo hold, aye, which is right below this cabin.” He gestured again. “Did you not hear what I said? There’s no time to waste. Move.”

  Saints, the man was curt. Indignation set Giselle’s blood coursing, yet something in his voice compelled her to obey.

  “But what of our things?” Anna asked, her eyes wide with obvious fear.

  “Leave them.” Luc ushered the maid through the door. “Your lives are the only things of value.”

  “But, surely there’s little danger?” Giselle searched the knight’s face as she pushed by him. His expression, while serious, told her little. “How did it start? The crew have it under control, do they not?”

  “A lantern fell from its bracket and splashed burning oil everywhere.” A muscle flexed in de Warenne’s jaw. “They’re fighting it as best they can.”

  The noncommittal reply did not go unnoticed. With Anna following behind, Giselle staggered out onto the deck. Only then did she realize the ship’s violent rolling had ceased. The rain had stopped and the wind had subsided to little more than a spirited breeze. Even so, the sea appeared as a dark, forbidding mass, like a reflection of the ominous, night sky. Giselle shivered and hugged herself. In her hurry, she’d forgotten her mantle.

  A moment later, a blanket settled about her shoulders and Anna’s, too.

  “My thanks,” Giselle said, teeth chattering. De Warenne nodded and steered both women to a sheltered spot behind the aftcastle stairs.

  “Listen to me and obey,” he said. “You must both stay here out of sight. Do not move and do not speak to anyone. Understand? From now on, I need to know exactly where to find you. Do you swear?”

  Giselle eyed the vast stretches of water surrounding them and, for the first time, felt a deep and genuine twinge of fear. She nodded and blinked up
at him. “Where are you going?”

  De Warenne gave a somber smile as he turned away. “I have to check on something. I’ll be back in a few moments.”

  “With good news, I hope.” Giselle’s light retort masked her true apprehension. She tucked her arm through Anna’s. “It appears we need a crisis for our ill-tempered knight to show some true chivalry.”

  “Oh, I have never doubted his chivalry,” her maid replied. “Luc de Warenne is a man who guards his heart, but he is not without compassion. And his courage is steadfast. I believe your uncle chose well. When it comes to doing his duty, Luc de Warenne will not fail you.”

  “You apparently see things in him I do not.” Giselle frowned as a sense of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Anna’s words seemed fatalistic, somehow. “I’m sure he’s simply being precautionary by bringing us out here. I’m sure they’ll soon have things under control.”

  Yet even as she spoke, the smell of smoke intensified, as did the frantic shouts of the crew. Giselle’s throat tightened. If the flames triumphed, only one option remained. She eyed the blackness surrounding the ship. Surely no one could survive out there for long. As the smoke thickened, her sense of hope thinned, and the world around her continued its plunge into mayhem.

  The ship’s decks were still slick with water. Giselle wondered how a vessel so saturated could burn at all, finding the answer a moment later in the acrid smell of the smoke. Of course, she realized, her blood chilling. Pitch was commonly used as a sealant on ships. And pitch burned, wet or dry.

  Panic curdled the air. Frenzied cries of horses joined those of the crewmen. The ship now appeared to be drifting, meeting the swells sideways on. The sails no longer billowed full and white, but sagged like pieces of loose, gray skin. Smoke, heavier than before, lifted up and over the ship’s rails before being snatched away by the breeze. Giselle felt a fresh stab of fear. Was the entire lower section aflame?

  The answer came a moment later as a man emerged from a deck hatch, coughing and spitting, his face blackened. As he staggered past, he glanced at the women and crossed himself.

  “Is the ship sinking?” Anna’s question echoed Giselle’s terrible suspicion. “I don’t know how to swim, my lady.”

  Giselle opened her mouth to console the maid, but halted, her attention drawn by Luc de Warenne’s somewhat spectacular return. His black stallion now pranced at his side. Giselle felt a twinge of guilt. Not once had she considered the welfare of de Warenne’s horse. Nostrils flaring, the stallion snorted and tossed his mighty head. Obviously, he sensed the danger. De Warenne gave Giselle a brief, cheerless glance, and looped the horse’s lead rein over the stair-rail.

  Giselle swallowed against the dryness in her throat and stepped forward. “Sir Luc,” she said, speaking with more poise than she felt, “may we know what is happening? Do they have control of the fire?”

  He gave an odd little smile and placed his hand on the stallion’s neck. “Minstrel has been with me a long time, my lady,” he said, after a pause. “Given a choice, I’d rather he drowned than be burned. As would I, given a choice.”

  “Christ have mercy.” Giselle shivered and crossed herself. “So, there’s no hope?”

  She heard Anna groan.

  “Little of it, I fear.” De Warenne’s eyes narrowed. “Still…” he added.

  Giselle blinked. “Still?”

  “While the Scottish coast is not far, it may as well be as distant as the moon. But this entire area is littered with islands, some inhabited, some barren.” De Warenne’s gaze searched the waters around them. “There’s a good chance, then, we’re close to some kind of land. God willing, a few souls might yet survive this night. I don’t suppose you can swim?”

  “Yes, but have not done so since I was a child.” She eyed the lonely waves. God help us. “You can’t seriously believe we’ll survive out there.”

  “I don’t believe we should surrender without a fight.” He regarded her with a grim expression. “But to have any chance at all, you must do exactly as I say. No arguments. Is that clear?”

  “Yes. But, how can we possibly—?”

  He squeezed her arm. “Wait here,” he said, and disappeared into the smoke.

  Giselle pressed her back to the aftcastle wall and pulled Anna to her side.

  “What is he going to do?” Anna asked, shivering. “I’ll not go in the water, my lady. I can’t.”

  Giselle wrapped the blanket tighter around them. “We may not have a choice, Anna,” she replied, eyes watering as smoke swirled around them. “You said yourself, Luc de Warenne is well chosen. He’s our only hope. We have to trust him.”

  A shout rang out. Then another. Enraged voices of men filtered out of the murk. Giselle heard de Warenne’s raised voice. He shouted something unintelligible, followed a moment later by a heavy splash. A chill of fear coiled around Giselle’s throat. She shrugged off her share of the blanket, stumbled to the railing, and peered over.

  An object drifted by. An upturned boat? She heard a splash. And another. Then several more. To Giselle’s horror, she realized the splashes were caused by men jumping overboard. She watched them struggling in the waves, shouting, panicked eyes wide and limbs flailing as they tried to reach the upturned boat.

  But where was de Warenne?

  Dear God. Surely, he hasn’t—

  “My lady.”

  Relief surged through her at the sound of his familiar voice. She turned, gasping at the sight of blood trickling from a split in his lip.

  “Oh, Sir Luc. Praise be. What happened?”

  “There was only one boat on board. A small vessel.” Expression solemn, he drew his sword. “I regret I failed to secure you a place aboard it.”

  “You were vastly outnumbered, sir. I saw the men jumping overboard.” Giselle coughed as the smoke hit her lungs. “The small vessel has capsized and is, I fear, now sunk.”

  “As are they.” His jaw tightened. “And we don’t have much time.”

  She eyed his weapon. “What are you going to do with that?”

  He pulled the door open. “Cut us another boat. A raft of sorts. It should support you, at least.”

  Giselle’s eyes widened as she took a step back. “The door? Are you mad? You don’t really believe anyone could survive on such a makeshift vessel. Besides,” she added, lowering her voice, “I won’t leave Anna.”

  De Warenne growled and grabbed her upper arm, fingers digging into her flesh.

  “Christ, woman, listen to me. This ship is about to become a funeral pyre, so unless you prefer to roast, you’re going in the water whether you want to or not. ’Tis good you can swim, but it will still be necessary to have something to cling to. And no, in truth, I don’t seriously believe we’ll survive this night, but we may as well give ourselves the best chance. Now, stand aside.”

  Trembling, Giselle blinked back tears. “But what about Anna?” She glanced toward the maid, who stood in pale silence, watching them. “She is too frail and cannot swim.”

  De Warenne released a sigh. “Anna is not my priority. You are. If a choice has to be made, I will make it in your favor. Without hesitation.”

  A sickening rush of disgust turned Giselle stomach anew. “’Tis a cold-hearted bastard you are, to speak with such cruelty.”

  A muscle ticked beneath his eye. “’Tis a cruel night, mistress, one that demands cold-hearted decisions.” He bent his head to hers, his breath warm against her face. “I have a sworn duty to protect you. No matter the odds, I’ll not let you die without a fight.”

  …when it comes to doing his duty, Luc de Warenne will not fail you.

  Anna’s avowal, Giselle thought, seemingly borne out.

  “Please understand.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Anna has been as a second mother to me. I could not live beyond this night knowing I put my life before hers. Therefore, Sir Luc, I release you from any and all vows you made before embarking on this doomed voyage. You no longer have any obligation to me or my uncle. Save yours
elf.” She reached up and touched the stallion’s nose. “And him, if you can.”

  De Warenne regarded her with something akin to amazement. “Christ, protect me from the folly of women,” he muttered, raising his blade. “Stand aside, lady. We have but moments left.”

  “My lady.” Anna’s voice cut into the smoky air between them. Giselle turned to see her maid approaching. “My fate is sealed, yours is not. Go with your knight and give yourself a chance.”

  Giselle shook her head and tucked the blanket more tightly around Anna’s shoulders. “Absolutely not. I won’t leave without you, Anna. I’ll help you to hold on.”

  “I cannot bear the thought of such a struggle,” the maid replied, her lip trembling. “Your life has just begun. Mine has already been long and full. Besides, you’ll not sacrifice your life because of me. That thought is yet more terrible for me to contemplate. I’ll face death easier knowing you might yet triumph against it.”

  “Anna—”

  “She’s always been an obstinate child, Sir Luc.” Anna gave the knight a bold smile. “Headstrong. Proud. Foolish, at times. But her heart is kind, her spirit honest. I pray you will both—”

  Like a beast emerging from Hell, a tongue of fire leapt up from the below and curled around the mast. A man screamed as his burning form burst from the flames and hurled itself overboard.

  Giselle felt her bladder constrict. “Christ have mercy.”

  De Warenne let out a deep-throated roar and hacked the door from its hinges. As it clattered to the deck, he turned and pulled the bridle from the stallion’s head. The horse nudged his master and nickered softly. “You’re on your own, my friend.” De Warenne pushed the horse’s nose aside and shifting his gaze to Giselle. “Come here, my lady.”

  “I told you, I will not leave—” Giselle gasped as she looked to where Anna had stood moments earlier. She spun around, seeing only a dark, empty corner. “Anna?”

  Where…?

  De Warenne sheathed his sword. “Come here, I said.”

  Shock numbed her core. “But where’s Anna?” Coughing, she stumbled to the ship’s rail. “Sweet Mother of Christ, please say she didn’t—”