We heard footsteps approaching the door and I looked up at Lady Alistair and bit my lip.
However the girl had returned alone. “He says he is detained and that you may start without him.”
Lady Alistair seemed surprised, then schooled her features and dismissed the girl. She looked at me.
And I looked at her and swallowed.
She nodded. “Go on,” she urged. “You know what you must do.”
*** *** ***
A dance.
Love is a dance.
I climbed the stairs one by one, holding my long skirt in numb fingers. I moved slowly and deliberately … one by one. Mallory’s face filled my mind. The treasure was gone. I had to have him.
I reached the room I was assured was his. I stood at his door and raised my hand to knock.
“Yes? What is it?” The words were brusque.
“Captain? It’s me. May I come in?”
The door opened.
There was nowhere to hide.
I took a breath.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Notes: Hallowed be thy name ….
“What is it? Wha —”
The words were curt, and he’d opened the door only a fraction. But he seemed to falter as his eyes widened, registering my extraordinary attire. He opened the door a little wider so he could get a better look at me.
I cleared my throat. “Lady Alistair was wondering ….”
“Lady Alistair?” His eyes were still roving over me.
I flushed under his absorbed scrutiny. “Well … I was wondering why you hadn’t come to supper.”
He looked at me now, his eyes darkening, his lips hardening. “I have too much to do. Are you well again, then?”
“Oh, me? I’m fine now.”
His eyes softened. “Rachel, gold or no gold, your name is known now. There will still be opportunities for you.”
“Not without the treasure,” I muttered.
“Yes there are. We will find a way.”
“You know that’s not true. I have no negotiating power now.” I fingered my dress and glimpsed at him. I took a breath and cleared the sudden lump in my throat. “And … I’m not sure I care anyway ….”
He shifted his weight to lean against the door jam and laughed. “I find that hard to believe. You’ve spent every waking moment with that gold since we got it. You’ve hardly done anything else. You just say that now because the treasure is lost. You’ll recover over time and want to resume your work again.”
I was silent, staring at him with uncertainty. “Why aren’t you coming down?”
“I told you, I’m busy.”
“Please come down.”
He took a step back. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I said I’m not coming down.”
I paused at his tone. “Then let me come in,” I ventured.
“Into my chamber? It would be indecent.”
“We practically slept together on your ship.”
“Hush!” He quickly looked down the empty hallway and then glared at me. “Don’t be a fool. This isn’t the ship anymore, Rachel.”
I took a step back, injured at his tone. “Of course. I’m sorry.” I turned my back to him. All I wanted was to escape and crawl into a dark corner somewhere.
“Rachel.”
I stopped.
He sighed. Then wordlessly he held the door open for me.
His room was much like mine, rich and tastefully decorated but totally devoid of any personal touches. I wondered if it was the room he’d used when he lived here all those years ago, when he tried his hand at life on land.
I turned and saw him standing before me, and I caught my breath.
“Captain!” I gasped, looking at him.
He was in a rich, crimson jacket and dark breeches that hugged his hard muscular legs. I recognized the jacket. He’d worn it before during that lovely dinner so long ago on his ship. But I didn’t remember it having this affect on me then.
He strode around me, stripping off the jacket and tossing it onto the bed. “I know,” he growled. “The jacket’s a mess. I forgot to take it to the tailor to get it repaired.”
He went to a desk standing in the corner and began to shuffle through some papers. “I’m not going to supper. So don’t ask it. I’m too busy.”
I said evenly, “But you’re already dressed.”
“I have too much to do. I have to talk to my backers. I have to secure another ship.”
“But if you got dressed you must have planned on joining us.”
“I’m not coming!” Violently, he kicked the chair beside him and it broke with a loud snap.
Quietly I asked, “What changed your mind?”
He controlled himself with difficulty. “Rachel, try to understand. You can’t afford another embarrassment. Not after what happened today.”
“Another embarrassment?”
“We’ve lost the gold. You still have to secure your position.”
“What do you mean ‘another embarrassment’?”
“You can establish yourself on your own. I cannot help you anymore.”
I gritted my teeth and said distinctly, “But that isn’t what you said. You said ‘another embarrassment.’ To what were you referring?”
“Would you stop it, Rachel?” He turned on me suddenly, his face hard, his nostrils flared. “Stop analyzing me. You and your questions. I’m sick of them.”
I gasped.
Without a word he turned to the window and looked out stoically.
Suddenly all pretense was gone, and I covered my face with my hands and began to weep.
There was startled silence, then the stride of footsteps and his arms went around me.
“Don’t,” I sobbed. “All I want is to d-die.”
“But why?” he asked, astonished.
“B-because I’m all alone,” I wailed.
“I told you before,” he exclaimed in anguished tones, almost shaking me. “You’re simply upset because of the loss of the treasure. In time, it won’t seem so daunting. You’ll recover and want to resume your life. In time you’ll forget all about me.”
I shook my head and felt my body curl up in pain. “Oh, don’t repeat what I said! Those meaningless words. I was wrong about everything. I was so blind. It was right before me, and I didn’t see it. All I saw was the gold. And now it’s too late. What do I do now? P-perhaps one day I may heal, logic dictates a heart must heal. But now … oh, how it hurts. It’s agony. Love is agony,” I cried, literally bowling over in the anguish.
Mallory became very still. “What did you say?” he asked quietly.
I didn’t answer him. I just sobbed and sobbed.
After a moment, his arms cradled me, much like one would a wounded child. I rested in the crook of his arm, my head on his chest, and my sobbing quieted.
He pressed his lips to my forehead. My eyes opened but I dared not move in fear of causing him to stop.
Then his lips touched my brow, I looked up at him and our eyes met. I knew that he was no longer trying to comfort me. He lowered his head and kissed my nose. I swallowed and waited. He drew away and looked at me. When I would have pulled away in embarrassment, I remembered Lady Alistair’s words: “Love is a dance.” Deliberately I stayed where I was and waited, watching him, letting him see my heart, my desire, my love. In answer, he bent and pressed his lips fully on mine.
I wound my arms around his neck and I almost exclaimed out loud, “At last! At last!” His arms tightened and crushed me to him, and I eagerly responded, my passion all the stronger for the weeks it had been kept in check. Like a flood spilling forth from a dam, I rushed to meet him.
He broke free to explore my face and neck. “I love you,” I told him. “I love you so much, Mallory.”
“Darling, is it true?” he muttered huskily into my ear.
“Yes!”
“I never thought … I didn’t dare hope ….”
“But why not?”
> “Because you’re brilliant and sophisticated and somehow impenetrable.”
“And you’re courageous and strong and noble. And so ….” I touched his face appreciatively. “So handsome.”
He looked down at me adoringly. “Is that what you think?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Since forever. For weeks and weeks and weeks. Perhaps even when I first saw you, though I was still asleep then and didn’t realize it.”
He looked amazed. “But the way you responded when I kissed you before …?”
“Yes?” I asked, leaning forward and brushing my lips against his rough cheek, and then the thick scar at his neck that had been beckoning me for so long.
He closed his eyes and allowed it, though I think he was valiantly trying to concentrate. “You changed.”
“Did I?”
“You were quiet, hardly looked me in the eye. And you didn’t come to me like you usually did. I waited for you. And you never came. I thought you were afraid of me … didn’t want me to touch you again.”
“I was embarrassed. I was waiting for you.”
He kissed me fully on the mouth again, and then we drew apart. He looked down at me, an expression on his face I cannot begin to describe. It was a mixture of love and relief, mingled with amused pride and affection. “You were embarrassed?” he asked with mocking disbelief.
“Yes! Why not?”
“You? Who didn’t care a ship load of men wanted to ravish you?”
I blushed. “Well, that sounds worse than it really was ….”
“You, who had no problem sharing chambers with a strange man, taking it as course, inviting me in wearing only a nightshirt.”
I grimaced.
“And had a hand in instigating mutiny.”
“Yes, I see.”
“And attempted to convince a law abiding and honest mariner to attack a pirate ship and go treasure seeking.”
“Alright! You’ve made your point!”
He laughed, and then slowly sobered as he searched my face as though taking in every detail. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we, Rachel?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“And you love me?”
“Yes, Captain,” I said humbly, well aware he still had not said the words himself. “Very much.”
With his eyes scanning my face, he reached out and lightly brushed my cheek with the back of a finger. “You reached out to me. Do you remember?”
“What?”
“The first time I saw you, looking so beautiful and tragic with the black ropes strung across you like an ungodly monster. You reached out to me as they carried you away. Your hand brushed mine.”
I was thoughtful. “Oh, yes.”
“And then you were lying there in the bed … on my bed, that wonderful hair falling across my pillow. I wondered if I was dreaming. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
I smiled slowly. “You couldn’t?”
“I never thought … didn’t dare to dream then that ….”
He stopped, his hand on my cheek, I smiled up at him with confidence.
“Right, then.” Suddenly he released me and sprang to life, pacing the room with pent up, exuberant energy. Gone was the unhappy, almost sulky man from moments ago. Now Mallory was at ease, confident, and even cock-sure, almost as if he thought to himself, Of course she loves me. Who wouldn’t?
“I’ll arrange for a license,” he said as he paced. “No need to wait for the calling of banns. Then, of course, there’s the question of a suitable house. Shouldn’t be too difficult, but it might take some time. Lady Alistair, I’m sure, will tolerate us in the meantime ….”
I paled. “Mallory! What do you mean?”
He rubbed his chin. “I’ll speak with Justin Miller. He might know of a post for me.”
“You mean you’ll stay ashore?”
“It’ll take time, but I’ll work my way up.”
“But it’s impossible! You said … you said it was impossible. The sea was all you knew.”
“Who knows? Perhaps Parliament one day.”
“You said you had money saved and that it won’t take you long to secure another vessel, that there was nothing ashore for you.”
He looked at me. “So?”
“So what’s changed?”
He strode to me and pulled me to a stand, holding me in a grip that hurt. “You. You impossible, infuriating, disaster! Strange and sweet and my safest harbor. I didn’t think it was possible. I thought I was beyond all hope. But I have you now. And I can do anything.”
He kissed me and continued to make his plans. I was called on to do little. He strode around the room, and I watched dazed and awed, a small smile touching my lips.
“The discovery of the treasure is helpful, despite the subsequent loss,” he told me.
“What treasure?” I murmured.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Notes: Title: Prologue. Five Years Later. Year: 1719
Although there is no chance these memoirs will ever be read, and no possibility that they will lead to my fame and acclaim, there is something deep inside of me rebelling against the idea that they aren’t finished. Every story deserves an ending. And so I will end it.
Mallory and I married in a small, intimate ceremony, though, without our knowledge, Lady Alistair organized a dinner party that night with the town’s elite. Despite our initial chagrin, the gathering turned out to be incredibly advantageous. There, Mallory secured connections that would lead to his rise in city government.
His first post wasn’t lofty or prestigious, but it introduced him into politics, and it turned out to be just what was needed to start the resurrection of the town. He cut spending, making a lot of enemies, and strong-armed the council to reduce corruption, relieving the burden on the poor, making more enemies. But Mallory was hardly concerned. None of these men carried knives and guns. They weren’t criminals and trained killers. Angry stares are nothing, he often tells me, well aware those were my words from years ago.
There he slowly made his way up the political ladder, thanks to his unyielding strength, singleness of purpose and an adoring public. His triumph over the famed, villainous Duke of Norfolk, and his willingness to lawfully return the treasure, had given him recognition in high places and aided in his ascent. As he predicted, the subsequent loss of the gold did not obliterate the rest. He is affectionately known as “The Captain,” not a little due to the fact that it is how I, almost exclusively, refer to him.
His fevers still come, but rarely. Better sanitation, a more stable and secure lifestyle, and quite frankly, blissful happiness and an exceptional woman at the helm, are all due to this.
We live in a small but lovely home in an adequate district and have two children: John who is four, and William who is two. The fact that our eldest isn’t named after his father has nothing to do with me. I begged for a Mallory, Jr., but his father utterly refused. I think his first name had given him more trouble than even I realized. So we compromised by giving our first born the name of the man to whom we both owe everything. They are precocious, maddening, dark-headed children who I constantly chase after and scold, but fiercely and infinitely adore. We are expecting our third in two months, and nothing, simply nothing, supersedes raising and teaching and loving them. My children will never be called to suffer what I suffered as long as I am breathing.
It is easy to forget that life was not always like this. It sometimes comes as a surprise to me when I remember that this is not my original home, that these loved ones who surround me and know me best are quite new to me and know nothing of the life I lived not all that long ago.
And sometimes I cannot help but marvel at the woman I have become, who gave up the pursuit of fame for love and family. At first I tried to return to my work, but it was impossible with so much to do for Mallory, his career and our home, and especially once our first child came and needed me so. There was no time for it. So, tenderly, I put it all away.
I thought women like me were weak. But it takes all my strength and courage to put my children and husband before myself. I know I won’t be read about in textbooks and newspapers. I know I will live and die in general obscurity. Mallory will be read about perhaps, but not me. My children might become famed and acclaimed, but not me. They will be the ones the world sees and acknowledges, to alter policies, to experiment and invent and be given the credit for changing history. And the record keepers may never know my name or how I worked or what I sacrificed or what is my due.
But without me, these, my loved ones, would be lost. Somehow I am the adhesive that binds us together as one, and I have often pondered in awe of my power. My words are their words, my kindness or cruelty, theirs. Their voices seem to be the echo of my own.
So why should I care if strangers don’t know my name or what I’ve done? God knows. And I am everything to those who love me. I can raise my loved ones above the stars or crush them utterly. So I ask you, knowing this, how can I turn away from them when they call for me? For the sake of indifferent strangers? I stand proudly in my chosen place and make no apology for what I have become.
And, perhaps most importantly of all, as much as John gave his life so that I may live, I do the same for my loved ones every day. As John said, those things that defy reason matter most: that to lose your life is to save it. So that one day, I may hope to keep my promise to John and see him again at the gates. I still wear his cross.
These revelations came to me slowly, one by one as I lived my life and wondered at it. And just recently was the fullness of my epiphany.
A short time ago I went in search of these, my notes and records, and found them buried in a trunk under toys and winter clothes. With them were the leather pads I had collected from the pharaoh’s treasure just before it was lost.
I had forgotten them, and I pulled the pads onto my lap. There was a question that had never been answered, and I touched the leather pads reverently.
The Dreamer (The Fall Series) Page 22