by Anne Renwick
Chapter Twenty-Five
ISA HAD BEEN CERTAIN she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but she could scarce remember past the point her cheek touched the pillow. Alec had insisted she rest. Between recent revelations, worries about her sister and the complications of bringing a Scot directly to her mother’s doorstep, she hadn’t been thinking clearly. Even now, with so many thoughts whirling inside her skull, it took her a moment to realize that her boat no longer sailed on the open water, but was tied alongside the quay. In Stornoway.
Less than two weeks ago, she’d attended her sister’s wedding. What had Nina ever done to deserve such treatment from their uncle? She’d married a Finn fisherman, celebrated her vows upon the beach and moved into a small, nearby cottage. How long had her uncle plotted against Nina and her husband? Had he stood beside them at their wedding, contemplating their abduction even as his daughter was dedicated to the sea? The smoldering coals of hate Isa forever carried in her chest burned hotter. Stopping her uncle—permanently—was the only thing that would ever extinguish them.
And Maren. What was her place in all of this? Maren had excitedly pushed Isa to accept Anton’s proposal. “It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed.” But the ink wasn’t dry on her marriage certificate before Maren announced her own engagement to Isa’s uncle and refused to answer any of her messages. Now her own brother had disappeared, leaving Isa to wonder what kind of understanding the two shared.
She rubbed at a pain in her stiff jaw, then climbed down from her bunk to dress. Much as she might wish to parade through the streets in a brilliant emerald dress, her bright hair loose and flowing, she needed to hold on to every scrap of respectability left to her. To that end, she donned her usual island uniform of dull gray wool and bound her hair into a tight knot at the base of her neck. Fixing her cape about her shoulders and drawing the hood over her hair, she stepped out onto the deck holding her medical bag.
Once the ever-present ocean winds would have blown her distress away, but today they merely plucked at her ankle-length skirts, snatched at her hood and screeched in her ear as if in league with Mrs. Carr, howling even louder when Alec turned to face her.
He took in her attire with a frown. “Necessary, I assume, to appease the elders?”
“It also helps stem the flow of marriage offers.” A flash of color—indicating a complete end to her mourning—would have the matchmakers and their male clients descending upon her and her family like midges on a warm body.
“In which case, I approve. I prefer to be the only man wondering about the color of your corset.” He stepped closer, catching her by the waist, and leaned close. He smelled of leather and salt and soap, a toe-curling combination. His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Might it be blue with a swirl of embroidery?”
“It might.” With a faint smile she rocked onto her toes, his gentle tease buoying her despite the tension threatening to turn her every muscle into stone.
“Come.” He climbed from the boat onto the quay and held out a hand to help her ashore. “Time to scandalize your mother.”
They left the harbor and turned onto a street that led past The Dragon and the Flea. Too early for it to be open, but she needed to restock her supplies. Today if possible. “How long has it been since we arrived?” Given the events surrounding her last visit, news of her boat at the quay would spread quickly, and she did not wish to be drawn into the local drama, particularly as it was the Carr’s son—Maren’s brother—who was missing.
“Perhaps thirty minutes.”
An entire half hour. “We’ll be expected, then.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Biscuits? Butter?”
She could almost hear the growl of his hopeful stomach over the wind. Their last few meals resembled soldier’s rations, confined to crusty bread resembling hardtack and the few tinned items—mutton, apricots and condensed milk—that Aron had not consumed while piloting her boat back to Glasgow. “Sausage and black pudding,” she promised with a smile. “But only if you can manage to convince my mother that I’m not your mistress. We need her to focus on the situation, not our relationship.” Nor could they afford to burn any bridges.
“Understood.”
Was it her imagination, or did his voice hold a regretful note?
Soon their booted feet crunched over the gravel of the path that led to her mother’s home, a squat, thatched blackhouse on a hillside beside the sea. A curl of peat smoke rose from its chimney, one that was quickly snatched away by the ever-present wind.
Before she could knock, the door flew open. “Isa!” Her mother’s relieved smile turned stiff and starchy—held in place by sheer will—when her eyes fell on the man who stood beside her daughter. Easy to tell from Alec’s height that he was anything but Finn. “And who is this… gentleman you’ve brought with you?” Her mother’s voice rose to a piercing pitch as she struggled with civility. As always, her focus was on the man, on controlling her daughter’s “future” as a wife and mother.
Isa quickly performed introductions. “Dr. McCullough and I are colleagues. He graciously agreed to accompany me to see what can be done to help Nina.”
“Colleagues.” The word was spoken with extreme doubt as her mother crossed her arms and glowered. A firm believer in the Finn tradition of arranged marriages, she’d long ago dismissed any contributions Isa might make to society as a woman of medicine, and Isa had long ago stopped trying to convince her otherwise. “Would this be same doctor who assisted you with your examination of Larsa?”
Hands balled at her sides, Isa stepped forward so quickly her mother had no choice but to step backward into her cottage. “Yes.” The word exited between clenched teeth. “And he’s trying to help, no thanks to Mr. or Mrs. Carr.” She dragged in a breath. “Nina’s husband—their missing son—might be the next to wash up on shore. Dr. McCullough is here to help. Me. Her. You.”
“No need.” Her mother lifted her chin.
Isa bit her tongue so hard it nearly bled. It took her far longer than it once had to unlock her jaw and reply in a civil manner. “I’m told Nina is asking for me. I came to see her. Now.”
“Well, of course,” her mother huffed. “You are her sister.”
Her mother turned on her heel and led Isa through the blackhouse—past the peat fire and a dresser laden with crockery and through the narrow door that led into the bedroom. A single candle burned upon a low chest that was pushed beside the box bed. Her sister lay on the straw mattress with a foot propped up on a pillow, eyes closed and face sallow. Alec followed.
“They found her like this.” Her mother dipped a rag in a bucket of cold water, wringing it out before draping it over Nina’s forehead. “She’s been delirious for two days. Mostly she sleeps. But when she wakes she’s raving about your uncle and Jona and a giant shark. And you.” The last two words were grudgingly spoken. “Your brother is out with the men looking for Jona.”
“What happened?” Isa focused on drawing forth the facts. Worry needed to wait.
“They took Jona’s boat and were on their way to Glasgow, to visit family. A day later, Mr. Wilson spotted Nina on the beach.” Her mother peeled back the sleeve of Nina’s nightgown, and Isa gasped, reaching out to touch the hot, swollen flesh. “Her skin is scraped and bruised all over, like she was tossed against the cliffs.”
Alec’s gaze caught hers briefly, but he said nothing as he shifted silently in the corner, his black wool coat buttoned to his chin.
Her mother frowned. “Nina needs her sister, not a stranger. You’d best come with me. I suppose you’ll want something to eat.”
“That would be lovely, Mrs. Guthrie.” His voice low yet firm. “But I’ll stay for now.”
“Hrmph.” Her mother turned and left.
“Nina?” Isa sat on the edge of the bed beside her sister and smoothed long, brown strands of hair from her face while Alec stayed hidden in the shadows. “It’s me, Isa. I’ve come.”
>
“Isa?” Her sister’s gray eyes slitted open, her voice fogged with fever as she struggled to speak. “No one would believe… you were right… all that time… our uncle not to be trusted… or Maren… only you understand.”
She did. “Can you tell me what happened, Nina?”
“Hates me. Hates you. Hated Da.”
Their father? What had this to do with anything? A few years ago, her father hadn’t returned from the harbor. His body had been found nearby, badly beaten. His pockets had been turned out, every last shilling gone. His murderer was never caught.
After that, everything had changed. With her brother Danel already in Glasgow with a wife and infant, he’d willingly handed the reins to Uncle Gregor after the funeral. In her grief, her mother had been grateful to let her brother take control, an abdication of responsibility that had ended in Isa’s arranged marriage.
Mother of Pearl. Was their uncle that Machiavellian? Had he murdered their father? Her blood ran cold.
Nina lifted a hand and spread her fingers wide. “Maren tested my blood. Said scars are lies. Not Finn enough. Never was a good swimmer.” Her eyes closed again. “Uncle is fixing. Wants pure blood only.”
Her sister not Finn enough? Utter nonsense. But if her uncle—and Maren—were screening members of their community for factor Q, they would uncover outliers, men and women who possessed the physical characteristics of Finn, but did not express the glycoprotein in their blood. Alas, blood levels of factor Q did determine a Finn’s ability to dive. And her uncle’s obsession with attaching a biomech octopus meant that blood levels of factor Q would prejudice his opinion as to what traits defined a Finn.
“Nina, wake up.” She patted her sister’s burning cheek. “Please, try to focus. You were on a boat…”
“A shark… yellow, glowing eyes.” Nina reached out and latched onto Isa’s wrist. “We were attacked. Carried into its belly. I woke up on a ledge inside a sea cave.”
“Where?”
“Not certain.” She rocked her head back and forth on the pillow. “North of Traigh Ghearadha.”
“How did you manage to escape?”
“A woman chained to the rock pushed me back into the water. Told me to go, that they were distracted. That I needed to swim for help. That the octopus would kill my husband if I didn’t hurry.” Nina struggled onto her elbows, but fell back, weeping. “I have to go back for Jona.”
She blotted the tears from her sister’s eyes. “We’re going to bring Jona home as soon as we can, as soon as we can find the cave.” A promise she would keep. Or die trying. A decided possibility. “Is there anything more you can tell me?”
“The cliffs were tall and the opening to the cave was under the water.”
Isa wanted to scream in frustration. If the opening to the sea cave wasn’t visible, how were they to find it?
“How long were you in the water?” Alec prompted from his dark corner.
“Who’s there?” Nina’s eyes flew wide open, recoiling and drawing breath as if to scream.
“A friend,” Isa said hastily. “A doctor who’s here to help. Please, Nina, how long did you swim down the coastline?”
“An hour? Maybe two.” Nina’s fingers worried the edge of her blanket, her voice tight with anguish and uncertainty. “I’m not sure.”
“It’s something,” Alec said. “If we take that information, account for weather, currents and tides—”
“We can narrow the location of cave,” Isa finished. “But finding the opening…” Impossible to search that stretch of the coastline by swimming underwater along its length.
“Recall that my brother found the castle all but empty. I overheard plans to consolidate their work in the sea cave. Though your mother sent for your uncle, he will first wish to unload cargo and his associates. To move them into the cave, the megalodon will need to surface.” He straightened. “Sea caves tend to form in specific locations. Do you have any topographical or nautical charts?”
“We have both.”
After calming Nina and tucking her beneath the covers, Isa led Alec back into the main room—where the smell of breakfast frying in a pan made her own stomach growl—and pulled a number of rolled maps from a drawer. Together they stretched them out upon the table while her mother watched with pursed lips. “This is where they found Nina,” she said, pointing.
“If you’ll mix the bannocks,” her mother from beside the fire, “we can feed our guest.”
It wasn’t a request. A woman’s place was in the kitchen, beside her mother, where words could be exchanged under one’s breath in relative privacy.
Which was why Isa hastened to wind the clockwork mixer. But though its grinding sounds discouraged conversation, it didn’t stop her mother from dropping a daguerreotype onto the counter. Metallic and monochromatic, one Mr. Reid stared up at her without so much as a smile.
“No,” Isa said, skipping the usual preliminaries and cutting straight to the quick. She measured and poured oat and barley flour, butter and milk into the mixer’s bowl, then stood watching the paddles beat the dough into submission. Satisfied with the ratio, she brushed flour from hands and turned toward the fire to check the heat of the griddle that hung above it.
“Mr. Reid is most keen,” her mother said. “And he doesn’t mind small imperfections.”
Meaning her red hair or her presumed infertility. Hers. Even dead, Anton’s masculinity would not be called into question.
“Because he has three children under the age of five. He does not wish for a wife, he wishes for a housekeeper and a nanny but has no means to hire one.” No doubt he also wished to find someone to hold still while he eased his male needs upon her body as well, but she kept that thought to herself. She turned away, flipping the switch to turn off the clockwork mixer. She ripped pieces of dough free, shaping them and dropping them onto the griddle.
“Enough!” her mother hissed. “It’s time to put aside your unconventional, unfeminine lifestyle and marry. Already the village matchmaker warns me that her network buzzes with speculation and rumors about your suitability. You are a widow, no longer fresh and untouched.”
“I’m only twenty-five!”
Her mother crossed her arms. “Old. I had three children by that age. Mr. Reid owns five fishing boats. He has employees. He is an unqualified catch. You say you want to help our people. Marry him. Help him and, yes, his three children. I’m only looking out for you, Isa.”
Alec cleared his throat. “As a surgeon, Mrs. McQuiston’s profession touches many lives—”
Isa’s mother stiffened. “My daughter is no such thing.”
“Not officially, no. But she trained at Dr. McQuiston’s side for years. Longer than some surgeons who touch scalpel to skin. Tethering her to a hearth with apron strings would deprive far too many people of her help.”
“Alec.” Isa tugged at his sleeve. No one ever won this battle.
“Her uncle was wrong to marry her to a Glasgow physician, but at least her husband kept his promise.” Her mother planted her hands on her hips. “And who does she bring home? Another doctor. You’re only encouraging her delusions. She risks her future, traveling about with you—unchaperoned—a man who is not even a Finn.”
“Promise?” Dread trickled down her spine. “What promise did Anton make you?”
“That he would keep you out of medical school and in the home. Where a woman belongs.”
Isa staggered backward from the blow of her mother’s words. There was a faint scent of something burning. The memories of her marriage turning to ash. Her mother cried out and pushed past her, rushing to the hearth.
Her entire marriage had been one lie after the other. Could any man in her life be trusted? Alec. Not only did he treat her as an equal, he didn’t shield her from difficult or unpleasant truths. Impossible for the matchmakers to ever unearth a man who could compare.
Chapter Twenty-Six
ALEC
FOLLOWED ISA OUTSIDE and down to the rocky shore. The wind spit water at them, and dark clouds collecting overhead promised a more thorough soaking in the near future. When he’d met her, he’d assumed that a widow of independent means would be free to enjoy his attentions. Instead, he’d learned she faced an intense pressure to remarry on nearly all fronts.
Uncertain what to say, he stood beside her, silent.
“My mother is right about one thing,” she said, wrapping her arms about herself. “If the University of Glasgow once again denies my application, my choices are limited. Apply further abroad. Pursue my current life as an itinerant healer. Or marry.”
They’d promised each other an affair, but his presence here, working with her as a physician negatively impacted her reputation within the Finn community. A continued association would cause potential patients to turn her away, possibly ending her career among the Finn. He wasn’t even certain marrying her would help.
Marriage had never been something he’d seriously considered, tainted as his view was by his parents’ bad example. If he were being brutally honest, he had to admit there was a certain appeal to the idea of marrying a woman with a strong mind, one driven to pursue interests that overlapped with his own. He would miss Isa when their lives pulled them in opposite directions, for he was rather enjoying their liaison, both in and out of bed.
Chair.
Alec grinned. Then sobered. Had he actually just considered proposing? His heart gave a great thud. Marriage wasn’t what she wanted. Nor him. Not now.
But maybe he could peel back a cloud?
“There are always alternatives,” he said. There had to be. “We will catch two madmen and put an end to whatever nefarious plan they have in mind, thereby preventing further deaths of British citizens. The Queen will be indebted. With a wave of her royal scepter, she will offer to grant you one wish. And you will say…”