Hidden Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book Three)

by Kamery Solomon

  She tucked a hair behind Sammy’s ear, and smiled, her expression encouraging. The gesture didn’t have its intended effect, though, and Sam moved away, shaking her head.

  “I can’t do it, Abella,” Sam said sadly, another tear rolling down her face. Her hands went to her stomach this time, though, and I instantly felt the pain she still suffered with over Rachel. “I can’t lose them both.”

  “Ye aren’t losing me, Sam,” Tristan rushed to say, moving close to her once more. “Never, ever. I’ll only be gone a few months at most. I’ll send word whenever I can. I’ll have Mark with me, to make sure I stay away from trouble.”

  She glanced at me again, lip trembling. Slowly, she nodded, taking several deep breaths. “You’ll take care of him?”

  “With my life,” I promised.

  Abella sighed in relief, stepping away from the pair of them, hovering by the door and the growing pile of their belongings.

  Tristan, laughing slightly, wiped the tears from her face. “I don’t think I need anyone’s protection, love. But, if it will make ye feel better, I promise to do nothing without consulting Mark on the matter first.”

  “You’d better,” she said, bossily. “I know you Tristan O’Rourke. You are not a man to wait to do anything, if you can help it.”

  Chuckling again, he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. Only then did he let the worry and sadness cover his own features, his eyes closing as he held her close. “We have five days,” he whispered to her. “Five whole days.”

  Feeling like I was intruding, I turned, heading down the hall. When the cold, fresh air of the courtyard touched my face, I sighed in relief, feeling my own overwhelmed emotions swirling inside me. Stepping into the dirt and dried mud, I slowly ambled along, thinking.

  It was a cruel trick of fate, to have Samantha show up in my life, only to be just out of reach. Now, she would be even further; an ocean would be between us. Even worse, I would still be forced to think of her every day when I saw her husband.

  One could only hope that the distance would aid me in shutting those feelings off, the hard work of a ship taking up all my time and thought.

  “You are troubled as well.”

  Glancing behind me, I spied Abella, standing in the doorway, her hair blowing gently around her face. She looked as if she’d been helping in the packing, a light sheen of sweat on her neck and chest. Wiping her hands on her apron, she peered at the sky, as if trying to judge the clouds overhead. After a moment, she stared at me, silently judging me as well.

  “Would you go for a walk with me?”

  The question was abrupt, catching me off guard, and I simply stared, not knowing what to say. I’d been trying to distance myself from her, after all, but it seemed cruel to turn her down now, just before I was to leave on the Isobel.

  “Don’t look so conflicted.” She laughed. “It’s only a walk. We’ll be back before the carriage arrives to take them away.”

  Blushing slightly, I nodded, clearing my throat as I pulled my jacket around me tighter.

  Reaching back through the doorway, she grabbed her cloak off the hook there, sliding it around her shoulders, and strode out into the muck of the courtyard. Her yellow dress seemed to be the only bright and happy thing in the space, save her face.

  As we trekked down the alley and onto the street, she smiled at the people around us, offering salutations to a few of them. “I find that exercise does a busy mind good,” she stated to me, her pace quick and direct. We passed houses alongside us, and people hurrying through the streets, a carriage rolling by every now and then.

  “I suppose it does,” I agreed.

  “Well, why don’t you tell me about yourself, Mark Bell. The most I’ve ever heard of you was when we met at the Temple and you shared your story with the group.”

  Surprised, I laughed, having not expected the conversation to move in this direction. “What do you want to know?”

  She remained silent, thinking, and then smiled, glancing over at me. “Where were you born?”

  “In the colonies.”

  Stopping in the road, she raised an eyebrow at me, not pleased with my answer. “Half-truths are not going to work today.”

  Snorting, I motioned for her to keep going, coming to stand closer to her as I spoke. “Maryland,” I said softly, peering around to see if anyone was listening. “I was born in Maryland, on a military base called Fort Detrick.”

  “Your father was a military man?”

  Smiling, amused, I shook my head. “My mother. She was a doctor, working in the cancer research department.” Seeing that she didn’t quite understand, but that she got most of my meaning, I laughed again at her surprise.

  “She was part of the militia?”

  “The army,” I corrected her. “And, yes. Women can enlist in my time. The government paid for her to go to medical school and then stationed her at Fort Detrick, where she could best use her degree.”

  Wonder filled her features and she stared across the street, her pace slowing some. “Samantha has often told me that women are more privileged in your era,” she confessed. “But I don’t think I ever realized what exactly that meant. I mean, being part of the military, going to medical school, working as a doctor—those are all things only afforded to men, now. I can’t even imagine what I would do with so many options for my life.”

  “Whatever you want?” Chuckling, I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness at her reaction. Abella would never have the opportunity to go to medical school, even though she had an affinity for the practice. She would never own land, vote, or have a major say in the running of her country, all because she’d been born in a century that didn’t truly value what a woman could provide.

  I’d always thought that it made sense, the way women had been treated in the past. It was a more violent time, full of dangers and hardships. Women were the only option for our species to continue growing. Of course, the men would protect them. They would keep them at home, where they could care for the young and stay safe. It was a biological instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

  Now, though, I realized I’d had an asinine view of the past. Women were just as influential and important in this year as they were in my own. Abella had stood among men and defended herself just fine. She was smart, self-sufficient, and brave. She didn’t need anyone to protect her, let alone a man. If there was biology involved, it was her own instinct protecting her and nothing else.

  “Tell me about University,” she persuaded, interrupting my thoughts. “What is it like in your time?”

  “To be a student or a professor?”

  “Both. And what is it like to live in the history that you studied so thoroughly?”

  With each answer I gave her, she had another question, keeping our minds occupied as our feet traveled the roads of Paris without a care. The sun slowly set, and the lamps lining the avenues were lit by men carrying torches. Our laughter echoed off the cobblestone streets, our arms entwined as we continued over the river and through old city walls. Before I knew it, hours had passed, and still we walked, visiting with each other.

  Gradually, the clouds overhead opened, dumping their icy wetness on us. Snickering together, we ducked inside the closest establishment. It was an inn, crowded with people eating and drinking before the fire.

  “I’m starving,” I confessed, smelling the delicious feast that had been prepared for those willing to pay. “What about you?”

  “Food sounds delightful.” Removing her cape, she shook the water droplets off it, folding the fabric and pressing in against her midriff.

  Squeezing ourselves into a corner far from the warmth of the hearth, we flagged down one of the mistresses wading through the crowd and ordered two plates from her. She left us with a couple glasses of rum and a promise to return soon.

  Watching the dining hall, Abella smiled, her face flushed from our adventure together. “Look at them,” she said, nodding to the group. “They are all so
happy. Not a care in the world. They have all they need for the night. Food, drink, a warm bed to sleep in, and a companion to share their thoughts with.”

  Nodding in agreement, I took a long drink of the rum, licking my lips when I’d finished. “This is the type of place Sammy would love. Not a hoop skirt in sight.”

  Shocked, I stared at Abella with wide eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked, alarmed.

  “Sam,” I said slowly. “I’ve not thought of her for some hours now. That hasn’t happened since . . . I don’t know when.”

  “Oh.” Breathing a sigh of relief, she laughed again. “I thought something was wrong.” Pausing, she seemed to consider something. “I hope they aren’t worried about us. We vanished on them. I didn’t mean to stay out so long, but I was having such a good time talking with you.”

  “Me, too,” I agreed. “It was . . . relaxing.” Smiling at her, I felt the strange flip of my heart, a sensation that had normally been reserved for Sam. Suddenly, I felt very sad to be leaving her behind, wishing that we had more than just five days to talk like we had tonight.

  At the same moment, I was acutely aware of how old Abella was. I would never be able to forget how much of a gap there was between us—twenty-eight years. It may have been normal for couples in this era to be so far apart, but I didn’t know if I could get past that.

  And I was still in love with Samantha.

  What would it be like, though, I wondered, to love someone else? Would they feel they were my second choice? Would I feel that way about them? But, how wondrous our life would together would be! For, if I were to love someone else, it would have to be a love to eclipse what I felt for Sammy. I loved her more than the moon and the stars. To feel more than that for someone else would mean that I’d left my entire self behind, that I’d found a love as bright as the sun. It would have to warm my entire body, steal my thoughts from me, and make me unable to exist without the woman who caused such strength of conviction and adoration.

  I didn’t know if such a love existed.

  “What are you thinking about?” Abella asked, bringing my attention to the moment at hand. Her eyes shone as she smiled at me, her dark hair untied and hanging around her face. It was a beautiful look on her, her pale skin glowing in the dim firelight.

  Seized upon by an urge to ask questions I shouldn’t, I grinned, leaning forward. “What would you do if you loved someone who’s heart belonged to another? What would you say to them?” I asked slowly, curious to hear her answer.

  Pursing her lips, she considered me for a moment, eyes searching my own. “It would depend,” she finally said.

  “On what?”

  “On whether the person I loved truly belonged to another person. If so, I would say nothing. It’s not my place to disrupt the lives of others to satisfy my own selfish needs.”

  Feeling slightly chastised, as if she’d been directly referring to my affection for Samantha, I picked up my cup, taking another long drink.

  “If they did not, though,” she said quietly. “If they did not belong to another, if their heart was their own to give freely, to remove from the affection for someone else, then I would say—” She paused, looking down at her hands in her lap. After a moment, she laughed slightly, shaking her head, and rose from her chair, leaning across the table.

  Before I realized what was happening, her lips were on mine, soft and warm. It was a simple kiss, one that wouldn’t incite songs or retellings of the moment, but it made my heart stop, my body freezing as her hand touched the side of my face. I didn’t even know if I was kissing her in return, so surprised was I by the sudden movement, my breath caught in my chest.

  Pulling away, she studied me evenly, searching my eyes. “Pick me. Choose me. I know I am not—them—but I love you so. And I am here. I will always be here. Choose me.”

  She sat, clearing her throat, a deep blush spreading across her face as she looked down at her lap again.

  Leaning back in my chair, I regarded her with surprise and confusion. “I don’t think we’re talking about a rhetorical situation anymore,” I stated, my mouth dry.

  Snorting, she shook her head. “Were we when you asked me to begin with?” She stared at me pointedly, lifting her glass to her lips. Her hand shook slightly as she grasped it, an underlying nervousness to her entire being.

  “No, I guess we weren’t.” I felt acutely aware of her, sitting there on the other side of the table. Her breath was quick, eyes anxious for me to say more. The tantalizing flush of her skin made me feel even more thirsty and I gulped down another drink, not knowing what to say.

  Silence stretched between us, lasting past when the mistress returned with our food and refilled our cups. Inside, I was screaming at myself to say something, but I couldn’t seem to get my mouth to work. Halfway through the meal, I finally set my silverware down and sighed, looking at her apologetically.

  “I shouldn’t have asked,” I said, awkward and unsure. “I apologize. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you.” She blushed again and then kept going. “You were thinking about Samantha and how you feel for her,” she said, compassionately, working to cut the small piece of meat she’d been given. “You love her. I know that.”

  “I do.” I said it quietly, afraid of hurting her, but was surprised to see her shrug and look at me the same she always had.

  “I don’t expect you to change anything for me, Mark. You are your own person. You’ve loved Sam for as long as I’ve known you. At this point, I don’t even know if you are capable of untangling your heart from her. As it stands, you are destined to be unhappy as you watch her love someone else.”

  “Aren’t you doing the same to yourself?” I pointed out. “If you truly feel that way about me?”

  She shook her head, smiling at me. “The difference between us is I choose happiness, Mark. My romantic life does not dictate the joy I feel in other parts of my existence. I can face unrequited love and still smile through the day. Maybe, someday you’ll realize that you have that same choice, as well.”

  “The choice of happiness with you, you mean.”

  “No. Being in a romantic relationship does not guarantee happiness. But choosing it for yourself? That is true joy. You have that choice. Happiness for just you.”

  The house was quiet and dark when we returned, the carriage I’d hired to bring us back making the only noise in the night as it pulled away from the front door. Rain still pattered lightly, making the road slick and slippery and the air that much colder. Where the conversation with Abella had somehow managed to keep me warm earlier in the day, her silence now made me feel all the more alone.

  Walking down the street to the alley, we looped our way around the house and into the courtyard. Each step I took, I felt as if I’d made some grave error in not returning her affections. What could I say to her, though? Both of us had laid our feelings in front of each other and there had been no resolution to the situation.

  Opening the back door, Abella went inside first, disappearing into the black of the kitchen without a word. Sighing, I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to decide if it was worth it to wake the carriage driver and have him take me home. Sam and Tristan wouldn’t mind if I stayed the night, but I didn’t know if Abella wanted me around.

  Suddenly, she screamed, the sound muffled by something, and I barreled through the doorway, searching every direction for her. When I finally caught sight of her in the darkness, her form barely visible in the light from the coals of the fire, a thousand thoughts passed through my mind.

  She was being held, a hand pressed over her mouth, the man who had grabbed her doing his best to keep her from fighting. Despite his best efforts, though she was putting up quite the struggle.

  At first, I thought Randall and his men had come again, breaking into the house and seizing her. Then, when I realized the man wasn’t trying to kill her, I thought he was a thief, who had gotten it in his mind to rape one of the ser
vants. Several other scenarios raced through my mind as I rammed myself toward him, a growl on my lips, fists raised to strike.

  “About time ye show up.”

  Spinning around, I looked at Captain MacDonald in surprise as he lit the lamp on the table beside him, throwing the situation into clearer light.

  “Valentine, let the poor girl go,” he said to the man who’d grabbed Abella. “We dinna have the time to be playin’ cat and mouse.” Rising, he straightened his kilt and motioned to another man who had appeared in the doorway behind me.

  “O’Rourke will be down in a moment,” the man said, leaning against the molding, the dark leather of his outfit blending into the night around him. He held a knife in his hands, turning the blade over and over, playing with it like a seasoned professional.

  “Thank ye, Dagger. See to it that the carriage is ready, would ye?”

  “What’s going on?” I asked, watching as Abella shoved away from the gangly man called Valentine.

  “We’re shipping out tonight,” the Scotsman replied. “Seeing as how Davies saw fit to give ye and O’Rourke to me, I thought it best ye be on board.”

  “Tonight?” Confused, I glanced at Abella and then to the captain. “Why?”

  “Davies is a sneaky rat, that’s why.” Watching me with a grim expression, he sighed. “We have to leave before he can assign anyone else to the crew to spy for him. I’ll not be having my treasure compromised, not if I can help it.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Tristan shoved his way into the kitchen, Samantha close behind. “Why do you come into our home in such a manner?”

  “It’s not yer home any longer.” MacDonald snorted. “The only reason yer still here is these two—” He motioned to Abella and I. “Off gallivanting through the city, causing ye to have to wait for them to return.”

  Dagger appeared in the doorway again. “Carriage is ready.”

  “Very well. Let’s get on our way then.” MacDonald motioned to his men and they all headed to leave. “Ye two say yer goodbyes. Ye’ll not see yer womenfolk for some months to come.”