by Leah Ross
He knelt beside her chair. “Are ye ill?”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t love me.”
“Come now, lass, ye ken that’s no’ true.”
“It is true!” she sobbed. “He can’t wait to dump me back at school so I can be a good girl and earn my license and run back so he can exploit my skill for his own gain! I’m nothing but his whore and future lackey!”
Declan sat in a chair next to her and brushed her hair from her face. “Laria, where on earth would ye get an idea like that?”
“I asked him about leaving school to stay with him. He told me he wouldn’t let me because he needs me to get my license and be his mage.”
Declan pushed her chair back and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “Laria, listen to me. Guinn loves ye. He wants to marry ye. He wants what’s best for ye an’ yer future together. He canna help that he doesna ken how to show ye he cares—he’s just no’ built wi’ that capacity.”
She sniffed. “He doesn’t even listen to me anymore. He can’t be bothered to pay attention to me.”
“Give him time to get o’er the novelty an’ excitement o’ achievin’ his dream, lass. He’ll need yer steady support.”
She looked deeply into his eyes. “What about what I need?”
“Declan!” Guinn bellowed from the main deck.
Declan grimaced and stood quickly. He squeezed her shoulder again. “Have faith, Laria. I’m sure ye’ll find what ye’re lookin’ for.”
“Mr. Maclairish, get your lazy arse to the main deck at once!”
Declan shot her an apologetic smile and left the room. She stayed in her chair, thinking about what Declan had said. Once again, she was struck by the difference between him and Guinn. She got from Declan everything she craved from Guinn. Perhaps she already had found what she was looking for.
~*~
“You have all of your things?”
She nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks.
Guinn gathered Laria into his arms and kissed her. “I’ll come see you when we’re in port.”
She smiled. “You better!”
“I love you, Laria,” he said gently. “I’ll write and tell you everything.”
Declan stepped up and interrupted. “Who are ye kiddin’, Captain? Miss Laria, I’ll write, an’ I’ll tell ye as much as I can.”
Laria smiled at Declan warmly. “Take care of him, Declan.”
“I’ll do me best, lass.” He bowed slightly to her.
She turned back to Guinn. “I love you, Guinn. Be safe.”
He kissed her. “When have you ever known me to be otherwise?” He embraced her one more time, then clapped Declan on the shoulder and turned to the ship. “Shall we stretch her legs, Declan?”
“Aye, Captain!” Declan hesitated for a moment as Guinn strode back aboard the Grimoire. He lifted Laria’s slender fingers to his lips and gazed into her eyes. “Be safe, Laria.”
“And you, Declan.” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”
Declan stepped back, and turned to the waiting ship. They both waited until the very last moment before allowing the air to part their clasped fingers. Laria gave him a little wave as he jogged up the gangplank. As the vessel pulled away from the dock, the crew bustled about the deck, Guinn commanded the helm with his gaze out to sea, and Declan leaned over the rail, his eyes only on Laria until distance alone made her vanish from his sight.
Chapter Twelve
Two years later
A constant whirlwind of activity ushered in the day preceding Guinn and Laria’s wedding before anyone believed possible. After an exhausting day of last minute preparations, they were all finally able to reconnect at the rowdy celebration and banquet Guinn was generously hosting for their guests.
Their favorite Terracovan pub, The Sailor’s Flask, was theirs for the evening. In an ostentatious show of the hard-earned status and newfound wealth gained from the success of his fledgling pirate career, Guinn had rented out the entire building for the occasion, including every one of the grand rooms above the tavern. The bar was open, the spirits flowing freely, and he didn’t want their guests to have to stumble back to rooms elsewhere when he could just have them dragged upstairs to sleep it off.
Laria mingled and made polite conversation, but her mind was far away. People kept handing her drinks, and she consumed them absently, grateful for something that didn’t require her attention. Even though they were in the same room, she felt very separate from Guinn, and her familiarity with the feeling was dragging her into depression. She certainly felt like anything but a bride on the eve of her wedding. She looked up and across the room, sensing the weight of a concerned gaze on her. Meeting William’s eyes, he lifted an inquiring brow at her and began to make his way to her. She sent him a small smile and shook her head. He lifted a hand in acquiescence and returned to his conversation.
By nightfall, the place was so crowded that the party spilled out into the square outside. It seemed the whole city wanted to congratulate the couple on their nuptials. Guinn worked the room like a master, greeting everyone personally and making sure his guests were happy. He carried a full glass of ale around with him, but he was careful to only take the occasional sip. Appearances were everything, and he was still painstakingly cultivating his reputation—he needed to remain in control of himself.
A few hours into the celebration, after he’d personally made contact with everyone at the party who mattered, he slowly and deliberately threaded his way through the crowd to the back of the room. He stood there for a few minutes, watching the room. The band struck up a lively tune and the room erupted in cheers and applause. Guinn chose that moment to silently slip out the back door into the black night. No one even knew he was gone.
~*~
Victoria Reese pulled the hood of her cloak tighter around her face to ward off the chilly fog seeping into every open crevice. She moved swiftly along the dark and dirty street, sneaking through alleys and pausing every so often to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Finally, she stopped on the step of an insignificant doorway that was lit only by the anemic flickering light of a single dim lantern. She knocked a few times on the door and stepped inside when it was opened, casting one more glance over her shoulder.
“This way, miss,” a hunched, wrinkled man croaked, pointing the way with a shaky finger. They crept down a narrow hall with only the wavering light of the man’s filthy lantern breaking through the gloom. He stopped in front of one of the many unmarked doors and rapped twice with his gnarled knuckle. The door opened on a pitch black room and Victoria walked in alone, the door closing behind her.
“Does anyone know you’re here?” a voice came from the darkness.
“No,” she said, “As you requested, I’ve come under the utmost secrecy.”
A small, dingy lamp flickered slowly into life in the center of the room. A well-dressed man sat at the table, looking very out of place in the dank room. His dark hair was short and neatly clipped, as was his carefully groomed moustache and goatee. His clothes were very fine, and his boots gleamed almost as brightly as the long sword attached to his handcrafted leather belt. His face was a mask of calm nonchalance, and it was clear that he did not intend to extend her any courtesies.
Victoria removed her cloak, revealing the well-worn velvet gown underneath. It was her best garment, and yet she still looked like a peasant who was trying too hard in the company of such an obviously wealthy man. Smoothing her long black hair, she sat in the only other chair in the room and waited as her nerves calmed and she composed herself.
“Thank you for seeing me,” she said at last, her large, violet eyes meeting his hard grey ones.
“You made it nigh impossible to refuse, threatening my reputation as you did,” he said with no small measure of contempt in his voice, “You’re just lucky the men were due some leave. What do you want, Victoria?”
“I apologize for the urgency and for the threat,” she said, casting her eyes downward with guilt, “I
couldn’t take the chance that you’d refuse to meet me.”
“Well, I’m here,” he said brusquely, “What’s so bloody urgent?”
“Well... um...” Why did he have to be so hard to talk to? He was certainly intimidating, in all the ways a man can intimidate, but she hadn’t had any trouble talking to him before. Perhaps it was the circumstances. Besides, she found him so irresistibly handsome that she got flustered just being in his presence. She forced herself to continue.
“Guinn, you have a child,” she blurted, deciding to just tell him directly.
“Oh?” he said, raising one eyebrow, but showing no other sign of emotion.
“Yes. A girl. Her name is Esmeralda. She’s eight years old now,” Victoria babbled, trying to tell him as quickly as possible.
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and stared her down with his stormy grey eyes. “How can you be sure the child is mine?”
“I’m certain, Guinn,” she said, “You were the only man I was with at the time.”
“I find it quite hard to believe that a woman in your particular ‘profession’ could be so sure of the fathering of her bastard child,” he scoffed.
“You paid me well to be exclusive, Captain,” she countered.
Guinn slammed his fist down on the table, nearly toppling it. “Bloody hell,” he fumed, “Supposing the child is mine, what would you have me do? I marry in the morning, and I will not have this hanging over my head.”
“Congratulations, Captain,” Victoria said without a trace of warmth in her voice, “May you and your wife have many happy years together. As for me, well, times are tough, especially for a lone woman and her small child.”
“So you do intend to threaten my reputation and blackmail me for money, then?”
“Blackmail is such an ugly word,” she said, “How heartbreaking for your lovely little bride to find out she won’t bear her husband’s first child.”
Guinn narrowed his eyes. “Take heed, Victoria, you are treading very dangerous waters here. You are in no position to be making demands of me.”
“Oh, I think you realize that I’m in the perfect position to make demands,” she said menacingly, “I want a monthly stipend, so that Esmeralda and I may maintain the quality of life that we would like to enjoy. I want a nice house, an obedient staff, and I want you to publicly recognize your daughter so that she may enjoy the respect that your reputation commands.”
“No.”
“To which?”
“To any of your ridiculous demands!” he yelled.
“You won’t recognize your own flesh and blood?” she asked incredulously.
“Never,” he seethed, “I will never acknowledge that illegitimate mistake.”
“Then I’ll tell the world!” she screamed at him, her voice rising to a hysterical screech, “Everyone will know that Guinn McCabe is a dog who can’t finish what he starts! I’ll ruin you so fast that the name McCabe will die in the dust where it belongs!”
“Tell whomever you want. It’s your word against mine, and I daresay my word is worth a hell of a lot more than yours! Besides, I would rather rebuild my reputation from the dust than be saddled with your presumptuous greed!” He stood and glared at her, his eyes flashing.
“To hell with you!” she screamed and ran at him, fists flailing in rage.
Guinn deftly sidestepped her rush, sending her crashing into his chair. She toppled over it, landing on the hard floor in a heap. He grabbed his cloak with every intention of leaving at that moment, but when Victoria did not rise again, he decided to check on her. He lifted her hair off her face and was shocked to see her dull, lifeless eyes staring back at him. He looked again and saw her neck bent at a very strange angle.
“Hellfire and damnation,” he said quietly. She must have broken her neck and died instantly. He gently closed Victoria’s eyes, wrapped his long, dark cloak around his body, doused the lamp, and slipped noiselessly back out into the night without being seen.
~*~
Laria’s head was swimming. Hours of lively music, innumerable congratulatory embraces, and a little too much alcohol was making her dizzy. She pushed her way outside and leaned against the cool brick of the building, gulping fresh air into her lungs. She waved as a few well wishes were shouted to her and then stepped around the corner into the alley for a moment of solitude. She slumped against the wall and slid down it to the ground, covering her face with her hands and not caring in the least about getting her long, silky lavender gown dirty.
The overwhelming feeling of impropriety just wouldn’t leave her. She felt like she was trapped in someone else’s life, helplessly watching it all go wrong, powerless in stopping the onrushing of inevitability. She knew what she should be doing, but the emotions warring within her only encouraged her indecision. This was not the way a bride acted or felt just before her wedding. She groaned as a wave of dread crashed upon her, and she huddled beneath its crushing weight.
“Laria? Are ye all right?”
She smiled to herself. She knew it wouldn’t be long before Declan came looking for her. She looked up into his concerned face. “I’m fine, Declan. I just needed some air.”
He crouched beside her. “I saw ye stumble outside. I was worried.”
“You’re not the one who’s supposed to worry about me,” she said with a sad laugh. “Where is Guinn?”
“I saw him minglin’ jus’ a while ago, but I havena seen him in the last few minutes.”
She sighed. “There’s always something more important.”
“Than what, lass?”
“Than me.”
The hurt he saw in her eyes made his heart ache. He pulled her up and led her to the back entrance to the guest rooms. “Come wi’ me.”
“But Declan, the party...”
“No one will miss us.”
He took her up the stairs to his room. Shutting the door behind them, he locked and bolted it. She sat heavily on the bed, feeling sorry for herself. Declan offered her a cup of tea, which she refused. He sat next to her and put a reassuring arm around her shoulders.
“Ye’re gettin’ married tomorrow. Ye should be happy.”
“I know.”
“Then why the sadness, lass?”
The smile that broke across her face also broke her resolve and the tears that she’d been holding back spilled down her cheeks. Declan knew her so well, better even than Guinn did, she suspected. She sat and just cried into Declan’s shoulder for a few minutes. He stroked her hair, remaining silent while she poured out her frustration, until her sobs subsided.
She sniffed. “Why is it that when I need comfort the most, I can always find you nearby, ready to offer it to me unconditionally?”
“That’s my job—”
“No! It’s not your job! It’s Guinn’s job! He should be here, assuaging my doubt, telling me my fears are unfounded. But he’s not. He’s somewhere taking care of the one thing he cares most about—himself! I’m nothing but another rung on the ladder of his success. Why does he treat me like just another member of his crew, while you treat me—”
“The way a man should treat the woman he loves.”
He’d spoken so softly that she nearly dismissed it in her frustrated rant as a product of her hopeful imagination. She looked up at Declan, saw the earnestness in his eyes, and knew she truly had heard him confess his love to her. She bit her lip as her cheeks blazed and her heart pounded. “You can’t say things like that.”
Now Declan’s frustration surfaced and his accent deepened with the intensity of it. “Why? Why can I no’ tell ye how I feel? Guinn has no damn idea how lucky he is! He takes ye for granted, lass, and ye deserve so much more than that. Every day I see him disappoint ye, and every time I see him cause that heartbreakin’ frown tae cross yer face, I want tae take him by his arrogant neck an’ shake some sense inta his thick head! Every day I wish ye were mine an’ I could treat ye the way ye should be treated. I love ye, Laria. An’ it kills me tae leave ye in the inc
apable arms o’ a selfish man.”
“No, Declan, please!” Tears streamed down her face. Another man’s life was being thrust into her hands, and she could do nothing to safeguard it. She felt helpless against the tide of destruction she sensed looming on the horizon. All for love. She didn’t want to destroy Declan, but she craved his love all the same. “Please don’t tell me these things! Please don’t tell me you love me!”
He cupped her face in his hands and stroked her tears away with his thumbs. “I have to, lass. I simply canna let ye go to the altar tomorrow wi’out tellin’ ye how I feel. I should have done it when first I kent it, but this is my last chance. Tell me from yer heart, dear Laria, even if yer answer breaks mine, do ye harbor any feelin’s for me?”
Her lip trembled. This was her way out. This was the way to save Declan. She could tell him that very moment that she did not return his feelings and perhaps he could be spared. It’s what she needed to say. Even if it was an ugly, hurtful, blatant lie.
She threw her arms around his neck. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to walk down the aisle to Guinn when I’m in love with another man,” she whispered in his ear.
She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t obliterate Declan’s heart. The gods might damn her straight to hell for it, but she wanted Declan more than anything.
He hugged her tightly and then held her at arm’s length to read the truth on her face. His smile lit the room. “Marry me, Laria!”
She shook her head. “No, Declan.”
His smile faded instantly. The wounded look in his eyes was more than Laria could bear. He’d expected her to accept his offer and run off with him. But things were more complicated than that. She looked down at her lap. “I won’t put you in danger,” she said softly. “Guinn is a proud man who is very concerned with his reputation. There’s no telling what he might do after such a public humiliation. For certain your career would be over, and both of our lives may be forfeit.”