by Jackie Ivie
Linna lost her battle for restraint and collapsed to her haunches with laughter. Cord stirred at the sound, causing the man called Simons to glare at her.
“See there? You’re upsetting him with your howling. Get me some fresh water! Not the scum-filled stuff from the common room, I’m going to need rainwater! And make it quick!” Simons reached to lift the quilt covering Cord. “This boy needs to be bathed. That’s what he does.”
“Bathed?” Linna lost her amusement as she watched the expression on Simons face as he looked at Cord’s nakedness.
“To relieve the heat. Tiens! Women are supposed to know these things! You bathe the skin with cool water when the body spirals into the fever, and you must pile on blankets for a sweat. Where were you raised? In a field?”
“I didn’t know,” she replied.
“You didn’t know,” he repeated tonelessly, before becoming animated again. “That’s a great comfort to him in his hour of need, I’m certain.”
Cord grumbled something, and Simons knelt closer to his mouth.
“Well!” Simons fluffed the quilt back into place.
“Was he awake? What did he say?” Linna asked, despite herself.
“None of your affair, missy. None at all.”
He didn’t like whatever it had been, if the way he was snapping the quilt to Cord’s chin was any indication. Linna’s eyes widened. She didn’t dislike the man, but all her instincts were warning her. Then again, she reminded herself. Cord means nothing to me. If Cord is waited on by a man that others shun, what is it to me?
“You poor boy. Simons has just the thing. And you! Are you still here? I sent you for water. It’s not going to materialize by itself.”
“I can’t go looking for water, Mister Simons.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I can’t.”
“And why not, I ask?”
“Well, I don’t know where it is, I’m half-dressed...” she paused for effect and smiled slyly at him, “...and my place is right here. Beside my husband.” As soon as she said it, she asked herself why. She didn’t care how many freaks Cord kept around him. And with this Simons fellow, Cord would obviously be well-tended. Furthermore, it would mean she wouldn’t have to stay in such close proximity to the man.
“Your—your...what?” the small man questioned with a shriek on the last word.
“Husband,” she said, calmly.
Simons stared at her for a moment, then moved his glance to Cord’s prostrate form, then back to her. “You...and my Cord? Married?”
“I’m afraid so,” Linna mumbled in an apologetic tone, waggling her left hand at him.
“But Cord is—. He’s—”
“He’s wed. That’s what Cordean Raoul Larket is,” Linna continued.
“You know his full name?”
“Of course. It was part of the wedding ceremony.”
“Non. I refuse to believe it! He has no room in his life for a wife! None. I should know.”
Linna’s eyebrows lifted, and she barely kept the snort from sounding.
“Although you do look most familiar...oh no! You? No! No, it can’t be! You—-you’re the Daniels girl! From the—ouch!”
She knew Cord was at least semi-conscious then, as he lunged for Simon’s throat with a hand, stopping any further words.
“Monsieur...Cord!” Simons croaked as Cord’s grip quickly loosened and his arm fell back to his side. “You’re awake! Saints be praised! And no thanks to this hussy here. She tried to convince me that you had wed her. I know the truth of that. You wouldn’t wed and replace Simons so easily.”
“Christ,” Cord ground out.
“Uh...if you gentlemen want to be left alone, I’ll be more than happy to oblige you,” Linna said sweetly. “I’ll just need a few items from my trunk, there. If you’d be so kind? Simons, is it?”
“Linna...don’t leave! I—! My head!” Cord had tried to sit up, then collapsed back onto the floor, making a loud thump as he hit the bare planks.
“There. You see what you’ve done!” the little Frenchman cried dramatically, as he bent back over Cord.
“What’s going on down here?”
Linna’s head swung up to the door frame and her eyes widened further. She only wished she could sink right into the panel behind her and join Cord’s shirts, as the man she’d visited with the previous day spoke, looking even more dapper in gentlemen’s attire than his captain’s uniform.
“Well? Simons?”
The little man sighed, released Cord’s hand and stood, looking rather pale to Linna’s eyes.
“Well...you see, it’s like this, Rex. I was just trying to assist our Cord here with his illness, when she—.” He stopped and pointed to Linna for theatrical purposes, “thwarted me!”
“Oh. I’ll bet she did.”
He just answered to the name Rex. Goosebumps broke out on her skin and her mind went completely blank. No. That didn’t mean anything. No. The little man started gesturing again.
“She won’t fetch broth or even water! All she can do is put her fancy little nose in the air and tell me she’s wed to him. Cord? Tied to a woman! I refuse to believe it.”
Linna’s eyebrows rose further at the insulting emphasis he put on her gender. She’d heard of men like Simons although she’d never thought to meet up with one. It amazed her that Cord had one as a servant.
“So...Larket did wed you. Good. That’s very good.”
Linna nodded. Rex? It could mean anything. There are other people in the hemisphere that answer to that name, she told herself.
There was the strangest smile playing about his lips. It looked like he stifled it with difficulty before he answered. “Well.” He stopped to clear his throat. “Can’t say I blame him. Come along, Simons. Get supplies for the girl and leave Cord alone.”
“But—.”
“I don’t think he’ll mind exchanging your ministrations for hers. In fact, I’m certain of it.”
“I don’t think—.”
“Have you seen him angered, Simons?”
“Yes,” the little man answered.
“And you wish a repeat? Fetch the girl what she needs, then get back to the galley where you belong. I have a fancy for turtle soup tonight.”
“Of all the....”
“Move!”
Linna slid up the wall, holding the quilt as closely about her as possible. The thin man raked a glance over her, before smiling sardonically.
“What’s wrong with him?” he asked, tipping his head toward where Cord lay.
“Fever,” she answered.
“Nausea?”
She shook her head.
“That’s a relief. There’s a typhus outbreak on the island. Do you know anything about fever?”
“Of course.” She tossed her head. “Bathe a fever, blanket a sweat,” she repeated.
He nodded. “I’ll see you’ve everything fetched. If Simons gives you any further trouble, report it to me. You know where to find me?”
She nodded.
“Then, good day to you, Madame Larket. Heal him for me. I need him. Even he doesn’t know how important he is to me.”
Linna looked from the thin man to her husband and back.
“I wouldn’t want him apprised of this conversation either. Do we understand each other?”
Linna was very aware of the unspoken threat. As it was made in such a low tone, it shouldn’t have been frightening, and yet it was. Despite her best intentions, she paled as she gripped the quilt tighter to her neck. Then, she nodded.
He tipped his head, holding to the brim of his hat before leaving. Linna reached out and pulled the door shut. There was a bit of hemp attached to the door. She looped it over a nail in the wall, securing it. She’d open it when the little man returned, but not to anyone else. She reached for her skirt.
Simons shot her a look of pure malice when he brought a tureen of clam broth and two baskets of biscuits. There was even a fluffy omelet. He wasn’t happy to be
serving her, but she didn’t care, as long as he left.
“Hussy!” he called it through his teeth, as he pushed the door open to leave. “I’ll be returning with linens.”
“Cord is getting linens now? Really? That’s interesting.”
“When he sweats, you have to replace them. Honestly, girl, where did you learn your bedside manner, a stable?”
“We can’t afford linens. I’ll make do.”
“I’m under orders, but even if I weren’t, I’d bring the linens from my own bed for him.”
“Oh. I’ll just bet you would,” Linna answered, noncommittally.
“You don’t know what you have there.”
“Perhaps...but I do know one thing,” she answered. “I have it. You don’t.”
He slammed her door at that. Then, he opened it and slammed it again. Linna was hard put not to laugh the second time.
She dropped to the man at her feet. “All this activity for a common sailor? Strange.” She muttered to herself as she wadded a petticoat into a semblance of a pillow for him.
“Perhaps they think I’m...an uncommon...one,” he mumbled.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked.
“Since you claimed me. That was nice.”
Linna flushed. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“You have to swallow some broth. I’ve got to get you well. I don’t know why.”
“So I can...bed you.”
“I don’t think that’s the reason,” she answered, rising to get his broth, “although Simons might be easier than me. I doubt he’s made you bargain not to touch him, has he? He’d probably be delighted.”
“Keep him away from me.”
“Why would I want to do that when he tells me of your undying devotion to each other?”
“Linna,” he said her name weakly, and she was beside him instantly.
“I’m here.”
“The man’s not...normal. He’s attracted...to other men.”
“No!” Linna said, in her most scandalized tone. Then she grinned and had to push him back down when he tried to sit. There was a crazed look in the depths of those gray-green eyes. Linna’s own widened as he gripped her hand.
“Keep him...away from me!”
“I’ll protect you, Cord. Never you fear.” She said it in jest and was amazed when his features calmed.
“I’ve never...been ill, Linna.”
“Never?”
“Ill men...get ambushed.”
“Ambushed?” she repeated, surprise staining the word. She had to lean close to hear his response, although it was several deep breaths later before it came.
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“You must have had a strange childhood, Cord Larket.”
“Not childhood...,” he murmured, just before his head fell to one side.
And I didn’t even get any broth down him, she told herself.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Linna had never worked harder in her life. She was beginning to think she wasn’t capable when she had to get damp linens out from beneath Cord for the sixth time. She wouldn’t ask for help, though, especially from Simons. He wouldn’t be offering anyway. Not now that he knew of the baby.
She’d enjoyed telling the little Frenchman that tidbit of news. He’d spent too much time looking over Cord’s prostrate form. Linna’s eyes had narrowed. Her lips thinned, although it was hours since the telling. The sun was setting, and the ship was no longer pitching and rolling from the storm. One thing was certain, too. She didn’t get seasick.
She’d been finishing yet another bath and sliding the damp cloth over one of Cord’s lower calves when Simons had stepped in. Linna hadn’t heard him enter. She hadn’t replaced the linen over her patient yet either. The coolness of the air actually seemed to help, although Cord groaned and moaned about it.
“Merde! But he’s glorious!” The Frenchman said it in strangled tones from right behind her.
Linna twitched the sheet over Cord before turning her head to the intruder. The look on his face made her feel cold all over. Now she knew what Cord was talking about. “I’ll thank you to leave,” she’d said stiffly.
“Why would I do that? Surely you’re tiring. I can relieve you. I don’t think Monsieur Cord will mind so much.”
“Oh, I’m certain he would.” Linna quickly finished with an ankle, then flicked the linen over it, too. It was stupid, but she didn’t want the man behind her looking at one inch of Cord. And then she wondered why it bothered her.
“He’d not even know, and my touch wouldn’t be so different from yours, cherie.”
Cord grunted, drawing her attention. His torso was taut and gleaming with sweat, although she’d barely finished drying him. She rolled her eyes and sighed lightly. It was time to ply the blankets on and her back ached.
“Let me assist, missy. I promise not to hurt him. He’s so magnifique, it would be a travesty. He’ll not notice the difference, I swear. I’m very good with my hands, I am.”
Linna swallowed her disgust. She hoped it didn’t sound in her voice. “I’m sorry, but he’d know. He calms when I’m near, he frets when you are. Look at him.”
The moment she said that, she wished it unsaid. Cord had shoved the linen to his waist, and the ropes of muscles, bunching and bulging throughout his upper torso were amplified by his sheen of moisture. It was a jaw-dropping sight. She only hoped Simons didn’t notice that she had to close hers.
Cord was also covered with goose bumps. She knew what that meant. Linna rose on cramped legs to get the blankets.
“Here, let me.”
Simons had one unfolded and on Cord before Linna managed to stand. He had another unrolled as she put a hand to her back and forced herself upright. She almost thanked him.
“You’ve been running yourself ragged. Here, sit a spell and let Simons get you a cup of tea or something.”
Despite her every intention, Linna felt the tears prick the back of her eyes. It would be so nice to just lie down herself and....
“Linna love?”
Cord’s voice was hoarse and weak, but Linna heard it. Simons did, too.
“I’m here, darling.” She was amazed when the endearment went past her lips without protest. Cord smiled when he heard it. She felt like a fool. She only hoped Simons wouldn’t spot her blush, but knew he was too sharp-eyed with his next words.
“So...you think to fool Simons with such lover-like talk? I know better. I know he was paid to bed you. He may even have liked it, but that is nothing to him. He likes it often and with many, Mademoiselle. He’s quite a man, non?”
Linna sucked in the reaction. She knew her eyes were wide. She fought it. Not only was Simons translating what she’d read, but he was also inferring that Cord and he...that they were...?
Her thoughts stalled before she could finish the thought.
She almost gagged. It burned to swallow. “Oh. I think you’d better leave now,” she replied in a stilted tone that sounded strange even to her own ears, “and it’s Madame. As in, Madame Larket. Madame Cordean Raoul Larket. It would be best if you remember that.”
Simons lifted his eyebrows but didn’t look like he was leaving. Linna got enough control over her eyes to narrow them. She was just about to lower her chin and glare at him when his lips twitched with amusement.
“You think to best me? Pierre de Gaul Saint Simons? You? A mere novice? What do you have to offer? Nothing.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I have everything. You see, I’m a woman,” she paused, “...and he likes women. I should think that much is obvious. Even to you.” Linna had her jaw locked when she finished and was giving him every bit of her disgust and anger with every second that passed. She’d seen hired men quail under such a look. Rhea would have been sobbing. She just wondered why it wasn’t working with this cretin.
He tossed a hand in the air. “Minor detail. Besides the rudimentary equipment of every woman, what have you to offer? I know things, mis
sy. I know how best to pleasure a man. Do you?”
“If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to shove you out. It will be pleasant, I think.”
He glared at her and made no move to leave.
“Go. Lick your wounds of defeat somewhere away from me. And you can take your words to those who wish to hear them. I understand sailors are a lonely bunch. Find one that has leanings such as you. Leave Cord alone. I’m warning you. Get out.”
So Simons had left, and for the next several hours she grew more and more exhausted as she tended to Cord. She’d done everything she could think of and still Cord languished somewhere between unconsciousness and a strange sort of slit-eyed silence. Her lower back ached with a fire that flared out until it encompassed her hips. Yet even that couldn’t keep her thoughts from a more painful subject.
She knew the truth now.
He’d been paid to ruin her.
She’d been afraid that was what that particular paper meant. Linna hung her head. Why did he come back for me, then? He already had the ruination that Fletcher had hired him for.
She stepped out of her skirt and hung it from the hook his hat was on. Then she undid the blouse, although she had to do it by feel. She told herself she wasn’t crying. She was simply so tired, her eyes were watering and didn’t seem to want to stop.
Linna sniffed. Hard. She wasn’t crying. She never cried. She’d vowed it. Tears were for the weak, the ineffectual, the fragile and lost. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t ineffectual. She was hard-hearted.
Period.
She hung the blouse. The pantaloons followed. She decided to sleep in her chemise again. It was dark to see, Cord was taking up most of the floor, and she wasn’t about to fumble through her trunk. Why…with her luck, she’d find the remnants of her wedding finery.
Sobs tore through her chest. Linna sucked in on them. She wasn’t crying! She was the emotionless one. She’d been the stoic one while Rhea had sobbed non-stop at their mother’s funeral. Linna hadn’t shed a tear. She was too hard. Cold. Emotionless. It was her motto. She was known by it. Whispered about. She didn’t care. She was hard-hearted to the core. Because that’s how she wanted it.