Author: Megan Shepherd

“You’re all staying in here together, eh?” The captain leered. Blood rose to my cheeks.

“My man and I will sleep above deck, if the weather holds,” Montgomery answered, a hint of red at his cheeks, too. An unwed young man and woman sharing a room together only meant one thing to the sailors.

The captain smirked and left.

Montgomery set the bags on the bed. “We should have free rein of the ship, except the crew quarters and the boatswain’s hold. Just the same, I’d rather you stay here. It’s safer. Passengers have been rumored to disappear under Captain Claggan’s watch.” He hesitated, and I wondered if he might try to talk me out of coming one last time. It was so strange to see him like this, almost grown, capable beyond his years. He couldn’t have had much of a childhood. So much strength had to hide some sort of vulnerability. But then he brushed past me to the door before I could finish my thought. “I’ll be back once we’ve left port.”

I closed the door behind him. My stomach was rolling. I let myself fall onto the bed. By the time I awoke, we were already at sea.

Seven

MONTGOMERY WAS RIGHT—IT TOOK time to grow accustomed to the ship’s movement. For the first few days I could barely sit up in bed. Montgomery lashed a lantern to the desk and left a bucket by the bed, though he quickly learned to lash that down, too. Balthasar brought me food from the galley, but I couldn’t stomach the rock-hard dried meat and slimy canned vegetables. At last Montgomery brought up a tin of Worthington’s biscuits from Father’s cargo. It was the only thing besides water I could keep down, and the water turned rancid after two weeks. From then on, it was bitter beer.

After over a month in the dark, cramped cabin, I started going above deck once a day for fresh air and sunlight, but the smell of turpentine and piss usually drove me back even before the sailors started leering. Montgomery came down sometimes, but the ship was shorthanded and the captain kept him and Balthasar busy above deck, never mind that they were paying passengers. Montgomery did the work without complaint. The dogs barked incessantly. I thought I’d gotten used to the ship’s rocking, and even believed we’d make it to the island with no incidents—until the storm hit.

The waves sent the ship tossing and made sleep impossible. Every lurch had me clutching the sides of the bed to keep from falling, and my stomach felt flipped upside down. I couldn’t imagine what was happening above deck. The animals must be going wild, or else terrified and huddled in the corners of their cages. Not so different from how I felt.

Someone pounded at the door. I stumbled across the dark room to let in Montgomery and Balthasar, who were drenched to the core. I lit a match for the lantern, but the ship lurched and the flame wavered and sputtered before catching. Montgomery bolted the door against water creeping in. He pulled off his shirt, cursing and shivering.

As the weeks passed, I’d spent more time above deck, and it wasn’t uncommon for the sailors to go shirtless. But this wasn’t some stranger. This was Montgomery. It was hard to keep my eyes from trailing back to steal glances at his bare chest.

He wrung out his shirt and hung it over the back of the wooden chair to dry. “It’s a squall,” he said. “Captain’s ordered all but a handful below. Damn drunkard. We lost a trunk over the side before he thought to batten everything down.”

I sank onto the bed and pulled a blanket around my chemise. It didn’t cover my ankles, which I tucked underneath me. Montgomery might be accustomed to showing his bare skin, but I wasn’t.

Balthasar slunk to the floor and rested his head against the wall. He didn’t seem to care that he was drenched. His trousers and white shirt were now just one dull shade of dirty gray.

Montgomery pulled out the desk chair. His skin glowed in the lantern light. The first time I’d seen him in London, I’d noticed how tanned his skin was for a gentleman in winter. He looked considerably less like a gentleman now. Sunburned shoulders. Salt ringing the hem of his trousers. Hair tangled and loose, and an edge in his handsome blue eyes. No wonder he bristled at the idea of staying in London—he was as wild as the caged animals.

We sat in silence, listening to the storm rage. I recalled an old song Lucy used to sing about a fisherman lost in a squall who returned to his beloved as a ghost. I didn’t realize I was humming the tune until Montgomery leaned back and closed his eyes.

“That’s nice,” he said.

“It’s just an old song.”

“Well, don’t stop. Please.”

But I was too embarrassed to continue. Montgomery toyed with the lantern’s latch, raising the flame to a blaze and then back to a whisper of light. When we were children, I could tell what he was thinking even without words. Now his thoughts were a puzzle to me.

“Do you still play piano?” he said at last.

It took me by surprise. “It’s been a few years.”

“We have one on the island. It’s probably out of tune. I never had an ear for music like you.”

My cheeks warmed at the thought of him remembering that I played. “How did you manage to bring a piano to an island?”

“It wasn’t easy. I hadn’t a clue what I was doing, but I wasn’t going to tell the merchants that. I’d chipped three keys and broken a leg by the time we reached the island.” He paused, and I blushed as I realized he was staring at my bare ankles, which had drifted free of the blanket. I tucked them under me.

“The piano’s limb, I should say,” he said curtly, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the presence of a lady.”

I smiled. There was a time when the word leg wasn’t mentioned in polite company, even when referring to inanimate objects. My mother had tried to train Montgomery in etiquette. Apparently a few things had stuck.

“You’ve been gone from London too long,” I said. “No one gets upset over mention of a leg these days.” My neck felt increasingly warm. “Besides, you forget that I’m not a lady anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jul—Miss Moreau.”

“If you haven’t noticed, Mr. James, I’m alone in my nightdress with two men, after being thrown out into the streets.” I lightly ran my fingertips over my dry lips. My nails had grown so jagged and unkempt that Lucy would have called them claws. “What else does he have you bring?” I asked.

He laughed, almost a bark. “Four cases of butterscotches. The full collection of Shakespeare, the same edition as from his library on Belgrave Square; you remember the ones? I had a devil of a time tracking those down. And once he asked for a copper bathing tub. It fell from the crate and sank while we were loading it.”

“What peculiar things.”

“Yes, well, he can be very peculiar.” His jaw clenched. “I’m sure you recall.”

I drew the blanket tighter around my shoulders. A peculiar disposition didn’t make a madman.

Not that alone.

“Montgomery, what do you . . .” I paused. The words were an experiment, and they came out stilted and half formed. “About the accusations . . .” My throat closed up. I felt his intense gaze but couldn’t bring myself to ask. If I’d still been ten years old, I wouldn’t have hesitated. But there were years between us now.

“Is it only you and him on the island?” I asked quickly, instead.

“And the islanders,” he said. Balthasar shifted in the corner. I had almost forgotten he was there. He had a way of settling into the shadows.

“Don’t you get lonely?”

“The doctor, he doesn’t mind. Sometimes I think even I’m too much company for him. And he certainly can’t abide their presence.” He glanced at Balthasar, making me wonder who exactly “they” were. “It will be different with you there. At times he can get so distracted that he forgets years are passing.” He lowered the light to the barest hint of a flame. “We’re getting close. Another week or two.”

I hesitated. “Do you think he’ll be pleased I’ve come?”

Montgomery brushed back his hair. “Of course he will be.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the smile I remembered as meaning he was lying. I pulled the blanket tighter against the sting.

The heel of Montgomery’s boot tapped nervously against the floor, as if he knew he was a bad liar. “I can’t say how he’ll take the news at first. He can be unpredictable, but in the end he’ll be glad you came.” He leaned forward, his blue eyes simmering. His boot tapped faster. “I’m glad you came.”

His words set every inch of my skin sizzling, and I nearly dropped the blanket in surprise. I’d always idolized him, but I’d been a little girl. The crush I’d had on him then seemed silly now that I knew how the world worked. Servant boys didn’t grow up and marry their mistresses. Instead, women fell from privilege and sold themselves on the streets. Men could be cruel, men like Dr. Hastings. As much as I believed in Montgomery, the fairy tale was gone.

I sneaked a glance at him. Wondered what his life must have been like, alone on a remote island with only my father and the natives for company. Perhaps he was as hungry as I was to feel that connection we once shared, to get back a little of that fairy tale. I felt myself drifting closer to him as the blanket slipped from my fingers.

The ship jerked suddenly, and I flew backward. My head struck the wall. Montgomery tumbled out of his chair and would have fallen on top of me if he hadn’t braced himself against the wall with quick instincts. I clung to his arms as if I were falling, but we weren’t going anywhere. My fingers tightened. He was a finger’s distance from me. Closer. Close enough to feel the brush of his loose hair on my face, to feel the heat from his sunburned skin. If it hadn’t been for the thin fabric of my chemise, we’d have been skin against skin, his hard muscle against my soft limbs. My jagged fingernails curled into the bare skin of his biceps. His lips parted. He drew in a sharp breath. Being so close to a half-naked man—to Montgomery—made me breathless.

He winced. I was hurting him, I realized.

I let go. Blood and reason flooded back to my head. I hadn’t meant to grab him. Instinct had made me do it. And now he would think . . . what would he think?

The ship righted, and Montgomery sat up, his lips still parted. A line of red half circles marked his arms from my fingernails. His eyes were wide.

“Blasted storm,” he said, a little gruffly. He was breathing as heavily as I was. “How’s your head?”

I touched the back of my skull absently, still dazed from being so close to him. “Just a bang.”

He pulled his damp shirt back on, hiding my nail marks. A bloom of pink spread over his neck. “I should probably check on the animals.” He seemed suddenly unable to look me in the eyes. “Try to sleep if you can.”

He disappeared into the forecastle hatch, leaving me alone with Balthasar. The big man stared into space, then gave a shudder that sent seawater spraying like a dog. He smelled of wet tweed and turpentine. I doubted I smelled much better.

I realized I knew almost nothing about this man who hung at Montgomery’s heels like a shadow. It was impossible not to be intimidated by his size and looks, despite how gentle he was with the animals.

“You’re a native of the island, aren’t you?” I asked. He seemed surprised that I addressed him and remained mute through the next lurch of the ship.

“Aye, miss,” he grunted at last.

“So you know my father, the doctor? Henri Moreau?”

Balthasar pulled his legs into his chest. His eyes darted nervously. “Thou shalt obey the Creator,” he said.

“Creator? God, you mean?”

“Thou shalt not crawl in the dirt. Thou shalt not roam at night.” He rocked slightly.