by Hilly Mason
“Jack?”
“Hullo, Isla,” he murmured, and then began to snore softly.
She closed her eyes and tried to remember. What came to her mind were the familiar brown eyes of the child named Taylor, a chubby boy who was his older brother’s shadow. But she and Taylor had been friends, if only for a little while. They would play out by the apple tree, and stick their feet in the river as they tried to catch fish. But then there was Matthew. Matthew would follow Isla from place to place, teasing her about her hair color, and her gawky, boyish body that seemed to constantly outgrow the dresses the nuns at the orphanage would give her.
Does Bunny wanna carrot? Matthew would tease her, while pulling at her red braids. She would scream for him to stop and burst into tears, aware that Taylor would watch in the background, not doing a damn thing to stop the bullying. They used to be friends. Why did he turn from her? Why was he nasty like his brother?
One day, she couldn’t take it anymore. She took a kitchen knife and went for Matthew. But his brother jumped out in front of him at the last minute and the knife went through Taylor’s shoulder instead of his brother’s heart.
Isla stared at Jack, her body trembling.
Taylor, is that really you?
If so, why hadn’t Jack told her the truth that he knew who she was?
Slowly, she slipped away from him and walked over to the table to pour herself a cup of water, wishing it was something stronger. She downed it in about three gulps and closed her eyes.
It’s not like what we did together meant anything, she decided. It was a onetime thing, as she had told him. That meant there were no emotions at play, no commitments involved. Nothing.
But Lord, she was furious.
Instead of joining Jack back in her bed, she curled up on the ground in the blankets that Jack always slept in, hoping to wake up the next day and have all of this be a terrible dream. She breathed in deeply, inhaling his familiar scent. It was both comforting and heartbreaking.
Chapter Ten
Isla woke up abruptly sometime in the early morning. Her body still tingled and her lips were sore where Jack had ravished her the night before. She stirred, wincing at her discomfort, and soon remembered that she had been sleeping on the floor. She turned her head slightly to see Jack still asleep in her bed, just a few feet away from her. He was on his stomach, his head turned towards the wall. His back rose and fell with each deep breath he took.
Jack had been lying to her this entire time.
Isla shot up in bed, suddenly needing fresh air. She pushed the blankets away and her feet found her slippers as she opened the door.
The sun was just barely shining on the horizon. Golden grunted and lifted her head up in question. “Good girl,” Isla told her softly. “I’m just going for a walk. Do you want to join me?” The lion let out a soft growl and got up onto her feet. Isla put her hand on the back of the cat’s neck as they walked side-by-side to the hull of the ship. With the storm blown away, the sky was clear, with a few remaining stars twinkling above her. She wouldn’t miss being on the ship, but she would miss the still tranquility of the mornings on the ocean, being so removed from the constant busyness of life in London.
She thought of Patrick and was surprised by the lack of guilt she felt for sleeping with Jack. Maybe Sophia was right that you do move on in life, despite the grief.
And besides, would Patrick really want her to remain sorrowful forever?
If things had been different between her and Jack, she might have found happiness.
The ship was quiet, save for the gentle creaking of the wooden structure, and the shuffling feet of a drunken sailor on his way to his cabin. Isla sat down on the floor, and Golden settled in beside her. The air wasn’t so cold that she needed a cloak, and Golden’s warm body was enough of a heat source to make her comfortable for the rest of the morning. She curled against the lion’s body and closed her eyes, letting Golden’s strong and steady heartbeat lull her back to sleep.
She woke up to someone shaking her shoulder. She blinked her eyes open and looked around. A pair of legs stood in front of her. Her eyes slowly traveled up those legs to meet Jack’s gaze.
“You slept outside.”
She turned her head to see Golden behind her, serving her as a pillow. The lion was still asleep, her whiskers twitching slightly as she dreamt about chasing her prey. “So I did.”
“Trouble in your marriage?” A sailor called out to him as he was sweeping the decks.
“Ye wish,” Isla retorted. She shifted her head side-to-side and winced at the stiffness in her joints. “I’m getting too auld to be sleeping on the ground.”
“Then what made you come out here? You could have told me to sleep on the floor.”
“Why did ye lie to me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid with me, Jack—or should I say, Taylor?”
Jack’s face turned the color of his white, linen shirt.
“And your brother Milton called himself Matthew, aye? Why didn’t ye just tell me that ye kent who I was?”
The man turned away, and shrugged.
“Tell me!” she pulled hard at his sleeve. “Don’t just close yourself off like ye usually do. It’s not going to work for me this time.”
His shoulders sagged, and for a moment his eyes looked years older. “I was going to tell you soon. And then all of that happened. It wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to kiss me.”
Her eyes widened. “Don’t you dare put the blame on me, Jackson Craig.”
“I’m not,” he ran his fingers through his hair. “Isla, I’m not very good with words…”
“Well, then try to be. Why didn’t ye tell me?”
Jack let out a slow stream of breath. “I thought I was just protecting my brother by not saying anything. But really, I was ashamed.”
“Ashamed?” Isla scoffed.
“Yes, ashamed,” he repeated, his voice unusually stern. “When I first saw you at the Tower of London Menagerie, all I felt was shame for what I did to you at the orphanage.”
Isla threw her arms up in exasperation. “Ye couldn’t just apologize to me?”
“I was also afraid that you wouldn’t come with me to America.”
Isla nodded, smiling bitterly. “If I didn’t come, ye wouldn’t be able to save your beloved brother. Is that it?”
“Milton has changed.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Isla said sarcastically. Her heart twisted painfully as memories of her childhood rose bitterly to the surface. “It seems like you’re still doing whatever he wants ye to do, always depending on ye to get him outta trouble.”
“This is different.”
“How? You’re still not able to understand how your actions affect other people.”
“Isla…”
She pointed a finger at him. “I will say this again: last night was a one-time thing. And a terrible mistake at that.”
Jack extended his arms beside him, palms up, and looked like he was about to say something before he was interrupted.
“Land ho!” A sailor suddenly called out. Isla turned around and shaded her eyes as a small sliver of land appeared in the distance.
“America!” she gasped.
“The one and only,” Jack replied sullenly.
Isla put her hands on her hips. “Well good. The sooner I don’t have to see your face anymore the better.”
“This is just New York. We still need to go to Philadelphia.”
Isla clenched her fists, scrunched up her face, and struggled not to slap the man. Instead she stuck her tongue out.
Jack seemed surprised at first, and, damn him, somewhat amused. He shrugged and turned around. “I’ll sleep in the sailors’ quarters, then.”
“Ye damn well better!” she called after him, stamping her foot.
The sailors overheard their disagreement and laughed. Isla glared at them and immediately they turned around and continued with their
work like they hadn’t seen a thing. She growled to herself and stomped back to the cabin, resisting the urge to let Golden loose on all aboard the ship.
Once the ship reached the port city of New York, they stopped for the night so the sailors could unload their cargo (and the prisoners, good riddance) and then load new crates on the ship for Philadelphia.
Isla wanted flee the ship and explore the city, but she didn’t want to leave Golden alone and knew that she wouldn’t be allowed to walk the cat down the streets without getting arrested. She watched from the ship’s deck the endless stream of people passing by, vowing to come back some day to check out the sights of New York.
Very soon, she would meet her family. Now that she was finally in America, the reality of the situation finally hit her. And for the first time in a long, long time, she was beginning to feel frightened by the unknown.
Golden was a comforting presence, and her soft, solid body was the only thing to stop her from feeling utterly alone.
He never wanted it to end this way. He never meant to sleep with Isla. He was the type of person to think things through before he acted. Or he thought so, at least. But with Isla things were different. He often found his mind muddled, as though he was constantly inebriated. No other person had had such an effect on him. And he didn’t know what to do about it.
Well, he knew that he had to apologize to her.
He didn’t expect much, especially after what he did, but he would not be able to rest until he told her he was sorry. He found her later that day, still watching the city as nightfall approached.
“Miss Isla?” she didn’t turn around to face him but he knew she had heard him. “I didn’t get a chance to properly apologize earlier today. I should have told you who I was, even if it meant you refused to come to America. Even if it meant my brother would stay in jail. I was ashamed as well as selfish.”
“Hmm,” was all that she said.
He really did know how to mess things up. It kind of ran in the family, now that he thought about it. His mother ruined her marriage to his father by running off with her lover and never to be seen again. His father ruined his relationship with his two sons by never being there for them during their most formative years.
He didn’t go on the journey to fall in love with a woman. Still, he knew that he would never meet another woman like Isla gain, and that no one would satisfy him the way she had.
He never deserved her.
Yet now, with the limited time they had together, he would savor every moment, even though she now despised him. Out of the corner of his eye she watched her, her golden red hair dazzling in the sun like it was an extension of the fiery star. Her cheeks were flushed from the wind, the tip of her slightly crooked nose rosy pink from the evening chill.
He knew it would be better when they went their separate ways in Philadelphia, but deep down he wished that they would keep sailing forever, so that she would always be near to him.
He never knew he could be so selfish.
She glanced up at him, feeling his gaze on her, and just for that brief moment he saw the same gentle expression he had witness the night they had made love. Yet it was quickly shielded by a cold and penetrating stare.
“Are ye really a baron, then?” she suddenly asked him.
Jack nodded. “Yes, that’s not a lie. My full name is Lord Jackson Taylor Craig of Berkshire, son of Frederick Craig.”
“Then why the devil were you at Cameron?”
“My brother and I were… rebellious. We ran away from our life of luxury for what we thought would be adventure. We lied and said that we were orphans when we stumbled upon Cameron, and they took us in. After you escaped from the orphanage, our father soon found us. We were basically imprisoned at Berkshire until we came of age. My father died, my mother ran off with some other man. My father’s lands were split between Milton and me in his will.”
“But you ran away to America,” Isla observed coolly.
“Somethin’ like that.”
Isla then let out a long sigh.
“We used to be good friends.”
“Yes, we did.”
“What happened?”
“Isla, I was only twelve. I’m not saying I’m not an idiot now, but I was definitely an idiot back then.”
Isla opened and closed her mouth as though searching for words. Her voice was strained when she finally spoke. “D-do you know if the Murrays are actually my parents, then? Or were you lying about that too?” Her voice sounded vulnerable, and lacked the confidence that he was used to.
“I only know what they told me. And they said that they were.”
“Are they trustworthy people?”
No, he thought. He wasn’t going to lie to her any more.
“They were the people who ordered my brother’s arrest.”
She relaxed and gave him a one-shoulder shrug. “Well, that seems just, considering what he did.”
He clenched his fist and pounded them on the wooden railing, making Isla jump.
“Jack?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, well. I’m a bit biased in my opinion of them. It would be best if you see what they’re like for yourself.”
The ship set sail for Philadelphia the next day, going down the coast before turning westward into the Delaware Bay. The bay narrowed into the Delaware River, and soon Isla was surrounded by rich forestland, reminding her wistfully of the uncharted lands in her homeland of Northern Scotland.
She began to reminisce about her time in the Highlands. Some days, if Lisabeth had scolded her and she was feeling particularly moody, Isla would escape the forest near Alban Castle to be on her own. Well, she was never quite on her own. The fairies lived in the forest surrounding Ciarach. It took her a while before she could actually see the spirits of the earth, but she had always been able to sense them, and to talk to them.
Sometimes they talked back.
Tears prickled Isla’s eyes as she thought of her childhood after she had ran away from the orphanage. She recalled her first time seeing a fairy when she was with Diana MacNevin. Oh, she had been secretly jealous that the English highborn lady had seen the fairy too, but she was also quite pleased. Not everyone could see fairies, and the fact that she did made her feel very special.
Yet, when she traveled to England to attend Lady Sophia’s boarding school, she pushed the fairies out of her life. Talking about such things would cause all the other girls to ridicule her, and she did not want a repeat of what happened at the orphanage in Scotland. Her uncanny way with animals was a constant thing, but the fairies’ voices grew quieter, until she couldn’t hear them at all.
Isla blinked away the tears, suddenly feeling guilty. She looked at the tall, green trees, similar, yet completely foreign to her. She wondered if this country had its own fairies, and if they would be willing to talk to her if she tried.
I’m so far from home now, she thought. She listened to the unfamiliar sounds of wildlife. She felt both trapped and free at the same time, being in such a foreign place. She had the urge to both the vast land, and to take the next ship to England. She turned her gaze to Jack, who was talking to one of the sailors. Soon she and Jack would go their separate ways. He had told her that once he took her to the Murrays, he would find different work, or go with his brother back to England.
Would she ever see him again?
Isla was surprised by the disappointment she felt at the thought. Aye, despite her lingering anger towards him she had reluctantly grown to like the large man.
But not everyone you meet will stay in your life forever. Patrick had taught her that lesson already.
Besides, the hurt from her childhood at the orphanage was still too raw. How could she even think of being with him after what he did to her? If he had told her who he was at the beginning, it might not have turned into such a mess between them.
“Idiot,” she whispered.
It was a Sunday morning when they arrived in Philadelphia. The harbor was quiet save
for a flock of seagulls, and in the distance Isla could hear the ringing of church bells, calling the citizens to mass. As the ship prepared to dock, she packed up her belongings in her cabin and walked with Golden up to the deck to wait to disembark.
“Now, you’ll need to be put back into your cage, Golden,” Isla told the cat. “But only for this little bit. The people here in Philadelphia won’t be used to seeing a big cat like yourself. But I hear ye will have a large pen once we arrive at my parents’ estate, so ye have that to look forward to, aye?”
A flicker of understanding crossed the animal’s eyes as Isla led the cat down to the cargo hold. Once Golden was safely inside her cage, Isla pressed one hand against the bars before turning around to leave.
Chapter Eleven
Philadelphia very much reminded Isla of London, with the smelly harbor and dingy streets, but London never had this oppressive, humid heat that made her body damp without even moving.
Jack had been quiet towards her ever since their argument. Yet, he still trailed after her like a shadow.
He’s stubborn, like me, she thought somewhat bemusedly, as the large presence by her side wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief. She had in her hand a paper fan that she had found in her cabin, perhaps from the last lady who endured the journey across the Atlantic. It served as a bit of respite from the horrible heat.
After they disembarked from the ship, Isla took a step onto solid ground and breathed a long sigh of relief. “It feels strange, doesn’t it?” she remarked. The entire world was still swaying, like she was still on the ship.
“It takes a few days to recover,” Jack told her. His face was as unreadable as ever, and his jaw was set firmly.
What did that night mean to him? she wondered. The night that we made love? He had said that they never should have kissed. So, why did he let that happen?