by Cherie Shaw
Olivia washed her face and hands with the cool water she poured into a small bowl, from a china pitcher that had been setting on the white wicker stand next to the divan, then patted her face dry with a white towel she’d found next to the bowl.
She yawned and stretched, thinking of lying on the divan for a moment, but first she noted the doorway leading outside, probably to the alleyway. Deciding to peek outside, only for a moment, maybe see if the fog had lifted any, also wanting to air out the musty, stuffiness of the air in the lounge, Olivia crossed to the door. Unlocking, then lifting the latch, she opened the door, after a couple of tugs, as it was a heavy door, and hard to open. After the second try, it gave way, then she stepped to the opening, and took in a deep breath of the heavy though cool, damp air, then noted the fog hadn’t lifted a bit, was still thick as chowder; she couldn’t see a thing as she tried to peer into the darkness.
But then she did see something, something bulky, dark and huge. Right in front of her! As she started to step quickly back into the room, she heard a groan, then a stumbling and thrashing about, as something grasped and tugged at her heavy woolen skirts. Then a solid thud, as that something crumpled at her feet, still clutching the rough material of her plaid skirt.
Olivia muffled a scream, panicked, then terrified, she froze. “Uncle ...Uncle Claude …here, quick!” She’d tried to shout, to scream, but the words only came out in a muffled choked gasp.
CHAPTER 2
The Silver Princess gave a soft fluid feeling she glided gracefully through the peaceful seas.
The sun shone bright, and they were four days gone. An early morning breakfast was being served in the dining hall, and Olivia sat quietly at the Captain’s table, she on the right of the captain, who sat at the head of the table, and her Uncle Claude at the captain’s left. It was a well-set-up table, and the settings were elegant, truly a luxury liner in every sense of the word, as Lord Beckford had failed to mention to Olivia before embarking on the journey, though she should have known that he would see to her comfort in every way on this trip. She was nevertheless impressed. Her staterooms were comfort themselves, and she was anxious for the meal to end so she could return.
Captain Stuart McBride, a young dark-haired serious young captain, sat at the head of the table looking very distinguished. Two other couples sat at the table, at the captain’s invitation, as was the custom, Mr. and Mrs. Dale Peterson, and the Orville Becks, two older couples who undoubtedly had traveled extensively, as they couldn’t stop telling Olivia of their many trips abroad, and to the Orient. Olivia tried not to yawn, as Mrs. Peterson just finished telling about their latest journey, for the fourth telling since she had met the woman two days before.
As the woman paused to take a breath, Captain McBride, who had been overly attentive to Olivia thus far, turned to her and said, “Tell me, Miss Worthington, are you enjoying your journey so far?”
“Oh yes, indeed, Captain, you are so kind to ask.” She answered.
The captain smiled, while patting his lips carefully with a white linen napkin, “Fine, fine,” he answered, “I wonder if,” he nodded in the direction of Lord Beckford, and continued, “with your uncle’s permission of course, you would care to take an excursion around the deck, so that I can show you the entire ship. It would be most pleasurable to me to show you around.” He leaned back in his chair very proud that he had finally broached the subject of spending some time alone with Olivia.
Olivia was most flattered, and did not want to hurt the captain’s feelings, but needed to tactfully decline, as she was most anxious to return to her suite of rooms below deck. Before she could think of a proper way to refuse the captain’s kind offer, she was saved by her uncle answering for her, “Actually,” Claude began, as he kindly nodded toward McBride, “I was planning to show my niece around ‘my’ ship myself. Although we appreciate your kind offer, I believe I can find my way around after all these years of sailing on ‘her’. I know how ‘busy’ a captain you are sir, and we would certainly not wish to part you from your ‘duties’, though if you feel that you can ‘spare’ the time, maybe the Petersons and the Becks would appreciate a personal tour from such a gracious host as yourself. I’m sure that in ‘all’ of their previous travels they have never been given a personal tour from the captain himself, and how very kind of you indeed to offer.” Ignoring the captain’s flushed and irritated countenance, Lord Beckford stood.
Olivia choked back a snicker, and swallowed, as her uncle quickly excused them from the table. Standing tall then taking Olivia’s arm, he thanked the red-faced captain again for his hospitality, and he escorted her back to her three-room suite off the lower deck.
The sea was calm and peaceful as they walked into the sitting room area. Lord Claude spoke to the chambermaid, who just entered from one of the other rooms, and he asked, “Maria, how is he? Is there any change?”
“No, sir, the gentleman still sleeps, though more peacefully now. A bit of the ranting and raving, talking nonsense as of the last few days, but not as much as when you first brought him. I did get a few mouthfuls of broth down the lad, but not all that much.”
Olivia said, “Why don’t you have a bite of food, Maria, and rest a while. I’ll watch over the patient now, just be sure and be back here by lunchtime, but please bring me a tray. I don’t think I want to sit through another meal in the dining room today. Bring an extra plate too; we need to try to get some nourishing food in him if at all possible.”
Maria, a petite little Spanish lady, answered and nodded, “Si, Señorita. I’ll be sure and do that, and thank you for trusting me this way. I’ll not let you down, my husband, Ricardo, told me of the situation, and you can rest assured that no one else on the ship knows of the young man.” With that Maria picked up a tray stacked with bowls and spoons, and after nodding, left the stateroom.
Lord Claude shook his graying head, “What have I done, Ollie, putting you in the middle of a situation like this? But I just couldn’t live with myself if we’d left the bloke to the street ruffians back there, and then we were due to sail. What more could we have done?”
Olivia smiled and hugged her uncle, “Uncle Claude, you are just an old softie, as I have often told you. Sometimes you put on that stern exterior, but I know you better. You couldn’t have left him there, even if I hadn’t insisted in bringing him with, in spite of your protests. It’s a good thing the men hadn’t loaded my steamer trunks yet, as he did fit nicely in the larger one. That is after unloading all that extra clothing I shouldn’t have packed in the first place. It did work out, now didn’t it?”
“Yes dear, my men wondered why that trunk seemed so much heavier when they toted it back out of the office though. I told them I’d added a few vases and trinkets and statuettes from the Orient, that you’d set your heart on.”
“Well, it was your quick thinking, Uncle, in having your men bring in my trunk in the first place, I hadn’t thought of it. We really did have to do some cramming to get him into it though, didn’t we?”
“Well, whoever the bloke is, let’s hope that he recovers, and starts a new life somewhere, not to be sold into bondage again.” Claude then turned to leave, telling Olivia, “I’ll return in about an hour, let me know if there is any change. I’m sorry that he has to stay in here, but as I said, I don’t have the extra room, also many of the ship’s crew stop by my stateroom for some reason or the other, even our very attentive captain. So it would be risky to have him in there. I have given strict orders that no one but your personal maid, Maria, shall be allowed to bother you in your quarters. Except for Maria’s husband Ricardo. And those orders, of course, are much to our amorous captain’s great sorrow.
“However,” he continued, “with Maria and Ricardo staying the night in the sitting room here; you are perfectly safe should the young man awaken. I’m so sorry, dear niece, you had to leave so much of your clothing in the closet of my office back at the warehouse, so we could make room for a perfect stranger to be ‘stuffed’ i
nto the trunk. Believe me; you shall be outfitted with a whole new wardrobe when we reach the new land.”
“Heavens, Uncle, you act as if I’m some spoiled little debutante! You should know me better than that. I care naught for a lot of frills, only my books, of which I did put a few into my carpetbag then. Well, we couldn’t just let the poor fool be taken back, after I had gotten over my initial shock anyway. It was really a fright having him fall at my feet like that, but when I saw that the poor man was injured, my own fright fled in a hurry. Those bruises have been there awhile, and that awful head injury was recent though. What a pitiful state for any living creature to be in.”
Claude agreed, and then asked, “You are going to watch over him now?”
“Of course, and it really does beat walking the deck with our ‘amorous’ captain.” She laughed.
“Oh yes,” Claude turned back to her, shaking his head, “what to do about our captain. The poor bloke is quite taken with you now isn’t he? Well, just don’t try to keep up with your brother’s record, breaking hearts, my dear.” He laughed.
“Oh mercy, Uncle Claude, perish the thought, and anyway that would be undoubtedly very hard to do, besides I seriously doubt the nice captain is in love with me, probably more with your wealth.”
“No, Ollie, do not underrate your charms and looks. You know you are quite lovely, and one of these days the proper young man will capture your heart.” He chuckled.
“Certainly, Uncle, and pigs fly too.” She laughed.
“Well, Niece, I can see that I got you away from the influence of your maid Amelia just in time. That woman is a terrible influence on your language. That humor of hers will get her in trouble some day.”
Olivia laughed, and waved him away, “Go rest. I’m going to check on our patient.”
Claude left, and Olivia clicked the lock on the door.
They had had the large steamer trunk delivered to Olivia’s suite, as it would be safer there for the poor sick stranger who they’d hoped wouldn’t smother with a few pieces of clothing tucked around him, as he lay stuffed and crammed into the trunk. He was still breathing though, as Claude with the assistance of Ricardo Cortez, a long time employee of the lines, and now working on the Silver Princess, had pulled him out of there and bedded him down on one of the bunks which were attached to a wall in the extra room of Olivia’s suite.
Ricardo was a very trusted employee, and loyal to Lord Beckford. Having worked for him and travel with him for years, Beckford knew that Ricardo and his wife, Maria would be completely trustworthy, and possibly the only ones that they could trust in circumstances like the present one.
The captain now, on the other hand, was a good captain, but an ambitious young man, and very loyal to the government in every way. So keeping the patient hidden was of the utmost importance.
Olivia pulled up a chair alongside the bunk, sat down, and listened to the labored breathing of the patient, while she gazed at the sleeping figure. It was hard to tell whether he was handsome or not, with the sunken cheekbones, and bruises covering him. “Mercy,” she thought to herself, “what am I thinking of his looks for at a time like this. The poor fella may be dying, and here I’m thinking about what he may look like.”
But she couldn’t take her eyes off the fascinating stranger. His hair was long, past his shoulders’ though matted, but black as coal, skin bronzed from either sun or heritage, she couldn’t be sure which, maybe a mixture of both. Massive shoulders and muscular arms, probably from back-breaking labor for many years it seemed, though his face was gaunt and haggard, his stomach flat. “Oh my,” she thought suddenly, “When his health returns, he would be the most magnificent, impressive of creatures, if not downright handsome, well at least greatly proportioned.”
He stirred, mumbled a few unintelligible words, nothing of which she could understand, then loudly rasping, “Chow time, let’s put the feed bag on.” Then he said clear as day, “Rope that calf and get that hot iron over here, brand that maverick ‘fore the critter gets loose.” He’d been thrashing his arms about and Olivia reached around him with both arms, and literally held him down to keep him from falling from the bunk. She needed to call to her uncle, but couldn’t let go of the patient either.
Then all of a sudden he spoke slowly, distinctly, as if in awe, “Well, what do we have here? A wench ready, willing and able. Ah’m a little under the weather right now love, but soon as I get my strength back, I’ll be happy to oblige you with ever’thin’ I got.”
Olivia jumped back startled, and quickly let go of him, as she looked down into two very bloodshot emerald-green eyes, in which danced stars of humor, mixed with pain, and on the sexiest lips, the sappiest, most lazy expression she’d ever seen.
“Oh,” she sputtered, gasping, “I was just trying to save you from falling, you egotistical lout. To think that I’ve been trying to save your worthless life.”
She ran from the room, as she heard weak laughter behind her. “What is the matter with me,” she muttered as she shut the door then breathlessly leaned against it. “It’s obvious the poor man is delirious.”
Olivia stiffened her spine, tilted her small perky little chin, then patted her tight golden blonde bun, tucked a loose strand behind her ear, then took a deep breath. She thought, “Why have I reacted to a very ill person’s mutterings like that? I am usually a very calm and collected person.” And with that thought in mind, she felt to see if her very prim bun was still in place. Satisfied, she once again opened the door then hesitantly stepped inside.
Raspy even breathing told her that the ‘patient’ was once again sleeping, or pretending……or well whatever. She approached the bunk, and lightly put her cool hand to his temple, which she found to be still very hot to the touch.
Feeling that he was feverish, she then moved to a small end table, which was secured to the wall, and which held the pitcher of cool water. Pouring a bit of the cool liquid into a basin, she then took a clean cloth from the stack that Maria had left there for that purpose, and after dipping the cloth into the water, she wrung it out and returned to the patient. Carefully she laid the folded wet cloth onto his forehead.
Her wrist was caught in a steel grip, pulling her hand and cloth away, and in a low, raspy and weak voice, he said, “Throw away the damned rag, sweetheart, just touch me with your cool soft hand again. I’m weak as hell, but your cool touch sure feels like Heaven!” Olivia quickly looked down into his face, and noted his eyes were still closed, but his bruised and battered face was grinning dreamily. “Oh…….you……you’re awake.” She sputtered.
“Just barely, honey.” He whispered, then, “but a sweet kiss would sure wake me up in a hurry, it’s been many a year since.............”
“Oh……” She pulled her hand quickly away from his grip, and breathed, “That’s it! You insufferable lout! You can just lie there and die for all I care.” Her chin tilted straight upward, and her back stiffened as she marched from the room once again, this time slamming the door.
Just as Olivia entered the small parlor of the suite, there was a light tap on the outer door, and she quickly walked over and angrily unlocked, then jerked open the door. Her uncle strode in and smiled, as he said, “I wasn’t that tired, and thought I’d stay with the patient for awhile.” Then noting her agitated expression, and fearing the condition of the patient had worsened, he sobered quickly and asked, “Olivia, what’s wrong? Has he taken a turn for the worse?”
“No! He’s awake, and I’m glad you returned Uncle, because now you can throw the lout overboard.” With that she marched stiffly into her bedroom, and slammed the door.
Lord Beckford stood there staring at the slammed door, then with raised eyebrows, a slow smile suddenly lit up his face.
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The eerie blackness was receding and the pain returning. The blackness had been welcome and the pain more than he could bear. His head was killing him, along with bruised ribs, injured shoulder, and just about every other inch of his body, bu
t otherwise Logan was fine, just a little bit short of dying, that is.
A cool soft touch to his temple had awakened him. Where was he? His head was either spinning, or he was on a moving ship, or both. He wasn’t sure. He tried to turn over, but his shoulder hurt too damn much, his ribs felt bruised, then his stomach growled. Well, that part of his body was working anyway, if nothing else. Suddenly he thought, “Damn, am I back on the ‘Red Dragon’?” Did Devlin’s thugs recapture him, and haul him back? “No!” He relaxed then, realizing he was lying on a bunk. If he was back on the Dragon, he would more than likely be down in the belly of the thing, lying in stinking filthy water, or possibly tied to a mast, and beaten for jumping ship, or hanged and dead by now. But where was he, and who had brought him here? His memory was foggy, but he did remember escaping the Dragon, and staggering through the foggy narrow streets of some town, he thought possibly London.