Love in Neverland: Book 2 in The Neverland Trilogy (5 page)

Before she could make a decision one way or the other, Edward called, “Land ho!”

Chapter 5

Two more weeks passed in much the same way.  Remy started to talk to herself as a way to keep herself entertained, and she worried she was going mental.  Pam had proven a fascinating person and while she had made headway with her, Pam was still somewhat reserved.  She had read more Shakespeare than she had ever intended in her entire life, and indulged in some scandalous gothic novels with sexuality oozing out of the pages.  It would seem Captain James Hook tastes were more eclectic than she would have expected.

In fact, Remy wanted to turn her focus to her captor, James Hook.  He was Scandinavian, she was certain.  A Viking.  He was tall – taller, even, than Nick, and Nick was already extremely tall, with broad shoulders and long legs.  He had a face like a Greek god, with crystal blue eyes and short blond hair slicked back from his clean-shaven face.  He always wore pristine clothing, with fitted boots so clean she could probably eat off of.  In truth, he reminded her of the sun – she could not stop staring at him though it was bad for her to.

She wanted to learn more about this man.  This man who was so ugly he was beautiful, so flawless he was flawed.  No one aboard his ship would say much about him, save for the fact that he had been a Viking whilst alive.  No one would tell her if he was a king or a ruler back on earth, if he had a wife or a woman who waited on him.  No one would tell her if he was a good man, one deserving of respect and admiration.  He ruled over what she knew as Hell – The Other World – where fire was supposed to be a norm and torture daily for every occupant residing there.  But James Hook was unlike any devil she had met, and she found herself drawn to him, much like a moth to a flame.  Except she would not stop flying and he would incinerate her without blinking, she was sure of it.

By the time Pam got to her door, she was in the middle of a very important part of a symphony she was pretending to play at her desk.  She did not even beckon her maid in so she could finish the last verse.

Remy nearly fell off her stool when a decidedly male voice cleared his throat.

“Mozart?” James asked with a raised brow.  His perfect face looked amused, and while she wanted nothing more than to scowl in return, her face turned too red to do so.

Instead, she whipped around to her mirror and pretended to make grand gestures out of the air with her hair.  “I have no idea what you are referring to,” she told him and was thankful her tone came out as nonchalant.  “I’ve been trying to comb the knots out of my hair the past hour because your excuse of a brush is not doing its sole job.”

“Okay.”  He offered her a small smile, which completely lit up his face, and caused Remy to forget how to breathe temporarily.  “We shall go with your explanation.”

Remy did not hear him.  She was too busy staring.  She knew he was beautiful; there was no denying it, and when they met before, the statement rang true then just the same as it did now.  However, there was something different about that beauty.  Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was here in her bedroom alone with him, with the door shut.  Perhaps his beauty was too intimate for her level of comfort.

“Do I paralyze you?” 

James cocked his head to the side, and though Remy wanted to tear her eyes away from him and not give him that satisfaction, she found she could not look away from him, no matter how hard she tried.  Instead, she swallowed and tried to study him in the same way he was clearly studying her.  She wanted to make him feel this odd, bubbly, heavy feeling she was currently experiencing.

The more she looked at him, the more she realized he seemed genuinely surprised by her reaction to him, which seemed odd.  A man with such power, such beauty, typically had the arrogance to match.  She had seen his arrogance in action.  Why would he doubt her inability to function around him if he knew the effect he caused on women?

“I only ask because Captain Grey seems taken with you, which says a lot for a pirate.”  He tilted his head to the opposite side and took a step toward her, invading her personal space.  She should back away, she should deny it, but he was correct; she was paralyzed by him, and she could not pretend otherwise.

Then his words hit her like a body hitting the surface of water, and she blinked.

Nick.

How could she forget about Nick?

Remy knew he felt something for her.  Originally, she believed those feelings were little more than lust, attraction, and friendship.  However, there was a possibility that he could feel more…  Which was what she wanted, was it not?  She felt something for him, didn’t she?

She swallowed and finally did step away from him though every fiber of her being screamed at her not to do so.  She had to think about Nick.  Nick, the man who saved her life.  Nick, with his warm brown eyes and lopsided smile and his rough hands and big heart.

Nick, Nick, Nick, Nick.

James’s lips quirked into a smirk, and she hated that he was amused by her inner turmoil.  She hated herself even more because somewhere, deep inside of her, knew he was right, and her stomach churned over with guilt.

Wait a minute
, her mother's voice said.
Did you not have a plan laid out where you would use your feminine wiles to woo him? This is the perfect opportunity for you to do so. Do not cower away - I did not raise you to be afraid. Put that pirate out of your head for now. Your feelings for him are conflicted at best. You can sort through that mess later, at a more appropriate time. This is more pressing. Also, he is quite handsome and supremely wealthy. He is the perfect specimen to practice on.

Remy blushed, and was surprised her mother's internal pep talk worked, but it did. She could feel adrenaline coursing through her body and her mind working into overdrive, trying to figure out how to get control of the situation. She wished she was wearing one of her own dresses made specifically to her body type. If Beatrice was here as well, she would paint Remy into a masterpiece. Instead, she had on a purple dress that was right on her bust and pinched at her waist. Her breasts being pressed together and pushed upward would most certainly help distract James but the dress was not made for her. It was made for someone smaller, more petite. Someone like Magdalena.

The thought of Magdalena made her pause. Where was she? Her lack of presence had yet to be explained to her, and it was odd that someone James so clearly trusted was not at his side. She wondered if there was anything more between them, anything romantic. Remy remembered the look of pure distrust on Magdalena's face as he welcomed both her and Nick into his home. Magdalena did not trust Remy, and Remy could not blame her. But was it because Remy was a Breather, an outsider, or a woman?

Either way, even if there was something between them, James still looked at her with something in his eyes. She was not sure if he looked at her so openly on purpose it if it was not something he could help. Remy did not want to flatter herself that he was attracted to her when he might simply be manipulating her the way she was going to attempt to manipulate him.

"You do," she found herself saying. She tilted her head to the side, exposing the long column of her throat. She was grateful she thought to pin up her hair today. Her mother always stressed innocent exposure of skin was nearly as tempting as exposing cleavage or an ankle. The neck was feminine and sweet; Charlie always stared at it whenever her hair was up. There was a chance James would be taken with it as well. "I don't know what you want with me. It's been weeks, and while my every need is tended to, while I am fed and bathed and protected by the walls of your home, my days pass slowly. I have no idea what you intend to do with me. You seem friendly enough, the rare moments I see you at all. But I do not find I trust you very much though that seems to be what you want. There is a reason why I'm here, after all, and the fact that I still do not know why forces me to be on my guard. So yes, you do paralyze me. I am cautious when you are around. I have no other choice."

She watched as his eyes lingered on her neck, and she smiled inwardly.

“I have come to tell you that we are a night away from The Other World,” he said, his eyes still focused on the length of her neck.  There was a hungry look in his blue eyes, and for a moment, Remy believed that he would stalk over to her and claim it with her mouth.  The thought caused Remy to swallow; she had never thought about something like that before.  “In your time with Captain Grey, did he mention what The Other World is?”

“Only that it is another name for Hell,” Remy said.  “That people are sent there for restitution and punishment.  Their lives are filled with daily torture until their penance has been paid.”

James nodded once.  “That’s an accurate description,” he said.  “Although, there is more to it.  Certain people are here who were not punished based on their actions on earth. Sometimes, they choose to be here because they are not ready to move on but cannot gain employment in The Neverland.  Sometimes, they simply do not want to be there.  It is at my discretion who I allow to reside in my realm.”

“I don’t understand,” Remy said, furrowing her brow.  “Why would a person – a soul, I apologize – choose life in Hell than life in Neverland?”

“The Other World is not Hell,” James corrected, but gently.  His eyes were soft, not sharp and calculating as they usually were.  “For some, it is.  It is the worst thing imaginable.  But not to everyone.  The Other World is
my
realm, which means the souls that dwell here answer to me.  It also means there is one law, one ruler, and everyone knows what is expected of them.  The Neverland, on the other hand, is one land with no rules.  Well, actually, no.  Each port has its own rules.  Which means rules change constantly at each governor’s whim.  It’s an unruly place, with criminals running amuck.  Some souls prefer order, and that is why they are here.”

“Why not The Paradise?” Remy asked, quirking a brow.

“The Paradise is for a select few,” James explained.  “Only the ruler can permit entrance.”

“Wait, I do not understand,” Remy said.  “If no one rules The Neverland, then who is The Magistrate?”

“She regulates affairs,” James said, and his eyes darkened to a midnight blue.  His voice got tight and he clenched his jaw so it popped. 

“You do not like her very much, I take it?”

“I have no opinion of her whatsoever,” James said, “and if I did, it would not be worth sharing.  In fact, she has summoned me to a meeting in a week’s time.”

“Why?”

Now, it was James who shrugged.  Somehow, he was able to make it look fluid and graceful, much like a feline.

“I do not waste my time trying to decipher the intricacies of her mind,” James said, and though Remy was certain he did not intend to, his tone was clipped and short.

“Do you think your meeting has anything to do with me?” Remy asked, and her finger found a strand of her hair and she started to twirl it mindlessly.  Except, it was not mindless.  She knew men tended to like mindless tics on women because it went into the notion that they, themselves, were mindless.  If James underestimated her as simply another pretty face, there was a good chance he would be more forthcoming with information.

James grinned at her question.  “Do you think everything now has to do with your presence here?” he returned.

“Here, or in The Neverland in general?” Remy asked.  “You said so yourself I am an important tool to get whatever it is you’ve wanted for a very long time.  If this thing you want is something more than just you can achieve, certainly more people might be after me.  Perhaps The Magistrate wants to meet with you about me.”

“Perhaps,” he allowed.  He leaned toward her, closing in on her personal space.  It was as though he sucked up all the air by doing so because she found she could not breathe.  “You are much more than a high society girl with a pretty face and perfectly chosen words, are you not?”

“I assure you, Captain Hook, my words are not perfect,” she said.  Flirting with Hook was easy, it would seem, and she found she was actually enjoying herself.

His lip flicked up again.  “Yes, but the way you say them makes them so,” he murmured, and his breath touched her skin and invaded her senses, causing her mind to cloud over.  “Actually” – he took a step back, his arms behind his back – “I wanted to tell you there would be a ball thrown here in honor of your presence.  Everyone in The Neverland is invited to attend.  It will be the first time the gates of The Other World will open to the public, where souls are permitted to come and go as they please.”