Even In Darkness (Between) (6 page)

Chapter 7

A
downy pillow cradled my head. I twisted and sunk my face into it, trying to block out the vivid dream I’d had. No, it wasn’t a dream; it was a nightmare. Just to reassure myself, I reached for Aiden, needing to feel his warmth next to me. My hand fell on a scratchy blanket. Where had he gone? Had I slept too long? My mother would be furious with me. She hated when we were guests at someone’s house and I was the last to get up. “It’s rude, Lindsey Marie!” she would say, making me that much more eager to go back to bed and bury my head under the covers.

Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I waited for the outline of the MacKinnons’ guest room to come into focus.
But instead of tall windows lined with drapes, I saw an antique oil lamp secured to the wall. An oil lamp? Who even uses those anymore? My eyes flickered around the rest of the dimly lit room: dark wood-paneled walls, a chair bolted to the floor, and a heavy glass decanter sunk into the top of a cabinet. A broad-shouldered man sat at a writing desk, scribbling away with a feather pen. Snug beige pants outlined the muscles in his legs. Black, wavy hair teased the collar of his white shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal tan forearms lightly dusted with dark hair. Strangely, his profile looked just like—

“No,” I whimpered and closed my eyes.

His chair scraped against the floor as he stood up. “Ah, she lives,
la belle au boit dormant
. I wondered if Sleeping Beauty would ever awaken.”

“This isn’t happening. This isn’
t happening.” I shook my head with my hands covering my face.

He
sat next to me on the bed and gently pulled my wrists down. “
Au contraire, ma chérie
. You are very real.” His fingertip trailed down my arm from my shoulder to my elbow. “And very lovely.”

“Don’t. Don’t speak to me in French.
” Aiden often spoke to me in French, one of the three languages he was fluent in, and it was a special bond between us. I wouldn’t have this abomination take that away from me. My gaze fell on where his hand rested on my arm. My dress had been replaced by a linen shirt, just like he was wearing.

“Where are my clothes?” I nearly shrieked, scooting as far away from him as I could.
He stood to pour himself a drink and said nothing, merely gesturing with his chin to an ornately carved chest against the far wall.

“You…you undressed me?”

He raised the glass to his lips and paused, his dark eyes shining in challenge. “I did.”

“You sick
son of a—”

“Your corset was cutting off the air supply to your lungs. You
nearly expired at my feet. What would you have had me do?” Before I could sputter out a response, he said, “At least I had the forethought to bring you to the privacy of my quarters, rather than disrobing you in front of my men. Or would you have preferred that?” He turned toward the door. “I’m sure they’d be all too happy to join us for a re-enactment.”

“No!” I didn’t know how real the threat was, but the thought made me shudder.

“I didn’t think so,” he said, then sat at the desk again and picked up his quill.

“What are you writing?”

“Captain’s log, the official record of our victory over the Jacobite rebels.”

“You’re the captain?”

“Yes, I’m Captain Eagan Masterson and this is my ship. And you—” The corner of his mouth curled up in a satisfied smirk as his eyes lingered on my chest. “You are my prisoner.” As those horrible words sunk in, he continued. “All three of you, as a matter of fact.”

The mention of Aiden made me sit up straight
er. “Where is he? Where is Aiden? And Willie? What have you done with them?”

“Your husband,” he spat the words at me like they left a vile taste in his mouth, “
is in the cargo hold with the livestock where he belongs. The lad is on deck with my men. He’s young yet, but he may be useful.” He shrugged. “If he cannot prove his worth before we get to England, he will hang with his brother.”

Self-righteous anger stole away my fear.
“You can’t put Aiden down there! He was injured. He needs medical attention! You have to let me see him.” I whipped the covers off and jumped from the bed, but the captain was on me with the speed of a striking cobra. I squeaked in surprise as he jerked me up against the wall. My feet dangled helplessly off the ground. Viselike fingers clamped around my shoulders, digging into the flesh. My face was eye level with his. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the look of controlled fury in his eyes.

“Let me make one thing very clear
.” The powerful heat in his voice singed my skin. “I do not
have
to do anything. I am the captain of this ship and I give the orders here. Your husband is a traitor. He betrayed his country and put his own political agenda before the safety of his family. If I decide to allow you to nurse him, it will only be to keep him alive long enough so that he may justly suffer for his sins.” He squeezed my arms tighter for emphasis. “Do you understand?”

Apparently my attempt at a nod was enough because
he dropped me to the ground and strode away, fists clenched at his sides. I hugged my arms tight across my chest and sucked in great, hiccupping breaths. Tears stung my eyes but I refused to let them fall. Instead, I glared daggers at the demon in front of me. At the doorway, he stopped and turned to face me. We stared at each other, unblinking, for several seconds before he finally broke the contact.

“Fine.
You may go to him. Briefly. Now get dressed and meet me outside.” With that, he grabbed his red coat off the chair and slammed the door behind him.

I scrambled across
the floor, feeling the sway of the boat beneath my feet. We were on an eighteenth century warship, headed to England where they were going to kill Aiden for treason. My head tried to tell me that we were already dead, that there was no actual danger, that none of this was real, but the smooth wood under my hands and the loud creak of the chest when I opened it begged to differ. None of the rules of the Between realm seemed to apply here, so I couldn’t say for sure what was possible. All I knew was that Aiden was injured and bleeding the last time I’d seen him. And that was enough.

Pawing through the voluminous skirts, I attempted to make sense of the wardrobe I’d been supplied with. My hands closed over the stiff edges of a corset, and I figured I’d have to start there. I’d never dressed myself—Aiden had always cast me in the
period clothing before—so I had no idea how to put the damned thing on. Did it go underneath the thin underdress called a shift? Or on top? For some reason, I knew if I screwed this up, the captain was going to laugh at me. The thought pissed me off to no end.

Decision made, I yanked the linen shirt off over my head and dropped it on the floor. I pulled the corset around my chest and wrestled with the ties in the back. My arms twisted painfully as I tried to pull the ties tight enough to keep it from slipping down under my breasts, but it was no use. I remembered seeing a movie once where a lady’s maid put one foot on the bed
post in order to get enough leverage to pull the corset strings tight. Well, I doubted I’d find a lady’s maid on a warship and I sure as hell wasn’t going to go out there and ask the captain to do it for me.

“Dammit!” I flung the freaking corset across the room. I didn’t have time for this crap. Aiden needed me. Finding the shift, I pulled it on and then covered it with the
heavy overdress. My breasts were supposed to be pushed up and squashed by the corset, but instead, they filled the front of the dress in soft pouches. I knew it looked indecent, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances.

Trying not to think about it, I
left the room and climbed the stairs to the upper deck, looking for the captain. I would have preferred to go directly to Aiden, but I had no idea how to find him. The sun stung my eyes as I emerged into the bright glare of daylight. Bearded, scruffy men littered the ship’s deck, pulling on ropes that made the enormous sails billow out. Captain Masterson stood along the railing, talking with a tall, lanky man. The sailor had blond hair on top but a strikingly red beard underneath. Making a beeline over to them, I started to interrupt, then thought better of it. The captain was facing away from me, giving orders to his crewman, but he must have noticed that the man’s eyes had grown wide, locked onto my chest. He turned, swept his eyes over my body, and swore.

“That will be all, Stanton,” he said curtly, not looking at
Red Beard, who nodded and lumbered off to do his bidding. “Are you trying to inflame my men, coming out here like that?”

My face heated at his accusation. “I couldn’
t put the stupid corset on by myself,” I hissed. The look on his face told me what he was going to say. I cut him off. “And no, I do not want your help. Where is Aiden?”

His eyes
darkened to sharp obsidian at the mention of Aiden’s name. He shrugged off his thick wool coat and draped it over my shoulders. It held the warmth of his body. Disconcerted by the intimate gesture, I started to protest, but he put a finger to my lips.

“For your protection…” He paused,
the unyielding strength of his gaze as powerful as if he’d been gripping me tightly. “And mine.”

Grabbing my hand, he hauled me across the ship and down the back stairs. I tried to pull my hand out of his grip, but he tightened it painfully, so I gave up. He was not letting go and that was that. When we passed the entrance to the kitchen, an old man in dirty clothes leered at me, his tongue darting between rotted teeth. All of a sudden, I was glad for the captain’s hand and his jacket that marked me as under his protection.

As we moved further into the belly of the ship, the scent of animal dung grew stronger, as did the cacophony of squawking chickens. This was where they’d thrown Aiden? In a cesspool where his wounds would no doubt get infected? The thought made me strain forward, pressing against the captain to go faster.

The interminable hallway finally ended at a heavy, wooden door. A fat sailor sat on a rickety chair in front of the door,
industriously picking his nose. He extricated something and looked like he was considering eating it as we approached. Seeing us, he jerked to his feet and wiped his hands on his pants. His stomach jutted out like a filthy melon as he stood at attention.

“And how is our prisoner
faring, Callison?” The captain’s voice was smooth and genial, but held a note of warning that I could detect but not understand.

Callison
looked from the captain to me and back again. “Well, cap’n, he carried on a fair bit when we first threw ‘im in there, but he’s settled down now. Ain’t heard a peep from ‘im in a while. Guess he wore himself out.”

The captain nodded like this was good news. Taking a step toward the door, he drew a key from a ring at his belt. Addressing the soldier, who had
moved out of the way, he said, “This gentle lady wishes to visit our prisoner. See that no one goes in or out. Fetch me when she is finished.”

Callison’s eyes slid over me like a greasy touch while the captain was turned
toward the door, but his head snapped back to reply. “Yes, sir. She’s safe wi’ me.”

“Yeah, right,” I said under my breath
as I squeezed past the disgusting man’s round belly, trying not to touch him. Once I stepped across the threshold, the door closed behind me. The acrid scent of chicken feces stung my sinuses while their screeching beat at my ears. I didn’t know what to cover first, but instinct won as my hand flew over my nose and mouth. Fighting back the bile that had begun to rise in my throat, I stood in the entryway, blinking furiously to adjust my eyes to the darkness of the room.

The tip of a blade pressed under my chin.

“One move and I’ll kill ye, thieving bitch.” The voice beside me had scraped through a gravel pathway of pain to reach my ears, but it was one I would recognize anywhere. My heart thudded erratically in my chest.

“Aiden,
it’s m—” As I turned to face him, he grabbed my hair and yanked it back, digging the tip of the knife into my skin. A warm stream of blood trickled down my neck. Fear washed over me in a tight, hot wave. “Wha.. What are you doing? It’s me, Lindsey! I came to help you. Please, Aiden.” My voice cracked with pleading on his name. He hesitated beside me, then removed the weapon from my throat. As I glanced down, I recognized the dagger that his brother had threatened me with earlier.

“How did you get the dirk back from Willie?” I asked, wiping away my blood with the back of one hand. In a flash, he grabbed me again, this time around the neck. I yelped in surprise before he cut off my airflow.

“What have ye done with my brother? Where is he?”

My fingernails dug into his
hand, trying to pry him off my throat. Our eyes met and held. There was no recognition there at all. He had no idea who I was. Panic congealed in my veins.

Aiden, please.
I reached out to him in my mind, but nothing indicated that he’d heard.

Spots started appearing before my eyes. My lungs burned with the desperate need to breathe. This
is it, I thought. This is the end. How many times can I die? And where will I wake up next time?