Chapter 16 #2
“So you choose to live a life of servitude?”
Hurt darkened her eyes. “Regardless of how I might wish to be with you, my vow has been given. ’Tis too late.”
“Nae!” He held up his hand when she made to speak. “You have a choice. You can settle and be unhappy or live the life you choose. Think about your choices. ’Tis all I ask. ”
Marie remained silent.
However much he despised the thought of her marrying a man she didn’t love, how could he intervene if he wasna ready to ask for her hand?
Frustrated, Colyne paced the room. As he turned toward her, a new and troubling thought came to mind.
“With the king’s guard protecting you, how was anyone able to abduct you? ”
Worried eyes met his. “ ’Tis a question I have asked myself many times since I was taken. My conclusions were few and unsettling.”
“What happened?”
“A young girl came to my home in the middle of the night. She begged for my aid, explaining that her mother was in pain and that her baby was coming. When I explained she needed to seek the healer, she said she had tried and was told she was away helping another.” Marie shook her head, her eyes foggy with memories.
“I accompanied the child to her home under the escort of my guards. When I entered, several men grabbed me.”
“And your guards?”
Her gaze grew troubled. “I am unsure.”
“What do you mean, you are unsure?”
“I heard no sounds of a struggle outside.”
With a sickening twist he understood. “You believe the knights assigned to you were Renard’s men and the girl’s story was designed to lure you to where they waited?”
“Oui,” she replied, anger sliding through her voice. “Which means someone within my father’s trusted circle is a traitor.”
Two days later, the ship groaned as storm-fed waves tossed the vessel higher before plunging it into the oncoming trough.
Water crashed over the bow with violent force. The solid mast severed the blackened sea rushing past. On the next swell, the craft was again hurled up.
Colyne braced his knees and clung to the line as another surge of seawater rushed past. “The rope is secure on this end,” he shouted to a man tying a knot on the opposite side of a crate.
The man gave a final tug on the knot. “Secure here as well.”
Another wave crashed over the bow. Water flooded the deck.
In an effort to keep from being swept overboard, sailors gripped the sides of the hull and braced their feet.
After the swell washed overboard, Colyne used the line and worked his way toward the stern.
“Is the cargo secured?” Logan braced himself as the ship angled downward and plunged.
Another huge wave swamped the deck and then poured over the side to join the churning water below. On a shudder, the ship again angled up.
“Aye,” Colyne replied, but even preoccupied by ensuring everything was tied down, he couldna help worrying about Marie. Since the onset of the storm two days past, she’d become seasick. With each passing hour, she’d grown worse until now she couldna leave her bed.
He damned every second he spent away from her. The day before, she’d been unable to keep down what little she’d attempted to eat. With her body continuing to purge itself, she couldna tolerate much more.
Once the crates were anchored, Logan shouted for less essential men to get themselves out of harm’s way, and then made his way to Colyne. “The sea is in a foul mood,” he said with a nod at the towering swell rolling toward them.
“Aye,” he agreed. “After two days I had expected we would have sailed out of the storm or at least left the worst of it behind.”
Logan tightened his grip on the rope as the ship hurtled down the next trough.
“There is nay telling with a spring storm. They can rush in all wind and fury and leave you within an hour. Or”—he scowled at the swirl of angry clouds—“it can stall and last for several days. We have wound up with a stubborn one.”
Colyne scanned the turbulent sky. Until the storm broke, they couldna take their bearings and learn how far they’d been thrown off course.
The captain grimaced toward where several of his men worked to keep the rudder tight and the ship facing into the wind. “Hold her fast!”
“Aye, Captain,” one of the sailors shouted back.
Colyne glanced toward Logan’s cabin. “I need to check on Alesia.” In deference to Marie, he’d kept her identity secret.
“I will go with you.” Logan followed him. “I canna believe we saved those crates. When that last wave swept over the deck, I thought we had lost them.”
“Or a piece of the ship if the cargo had ripped the rest of the way loose and slammed into the side.”
The captain gave a grim nod. “Indeed.” He opened the door to his cabin, keeping a tight hold. They entered, and he quickly shut it against the lash of rain outside.
As his vision slowly adjusted to the dim interior, Colyne crossed to Marie.
At their approach, she groaned.
Colyne met Logan’s worried gaze.
“She is having a rough go of it,” his friend whispered.
“Aye,” he agreed, frustrated he’d exhausted nae only his knowledge on seasickness remedies but every other sailors’ onboard. None of the herbs or potions had brought her more than a token of relief.
He’d witnessed untried sailors on their first cruise caught in the dregs of this malady.
Each person’s reaction was different. Some experienced a mild case of nausea while others grew so sick they couldna eat, drink, or stand.
Any attempt to move agitated their already extreme condition.
Upon the first port, the afflicted sailors disembarked, never to return to the sea.
“Colyne?” she murmured.
He knelt beside her and pressed a kiss on her brow. “I am here.” A fine sheen of sweat coated her skin. She’d told him of her queasy stomach on her forced sail to Scotland. He surmised the storm raging outside had weakened her already fragile resistance.
Honey lashes flicked open. She stared at him with a groggy frown. “Y—you were gone.”
“Aye, all hands were needed above.” He would give anything to relieve her of this misery. He hated the helplessness, unsure whether the storm would end this day or thrive for several more.
Logan lifted her cup, frowned. “She is nae drinking enough water.”
Holding back a curse, Colyne stroked her hair. “She will try to drink more.” They both were worried by her weakening condition. That his friend had come to check on her with the ship needing his guidance underscored the depth of his concern.
Marie’s lids drooped, as if the act of keeping them open were a feat unto itself.
The brutal crash of another wave reverberated against the hull.
Logan grimaced as he glanced up. “I must return to the helm.” Ebony eyes met Colyne’s with intention. “Take care of the lass.”
“I will.”
After his friend left, Colyne helped her sit. The ship groaned against the battering swells as he held the cup of water to her lips. “Here.”
She shook her head. “I cannot.”
Her weak reply stoked his worry. “A sip. Please try.”
Marie struggled to take a drink, but when she tried to swallow, she ended up coughing instead.
With a silent curse, he set the water aside. He drew her against his chest, feeling her every tremble, how fragile she felt in his arms. Please, God, help her.
As if mocking his helplessness, another wave buffeted the hull.
Colyne cradled her as the ship plunged into the next trough, and he prayed for the storm to pass. Hand trembling, he lifted the cup to her mouth. “A bit more.”
With dull acceptance, she choked down a swallow. “Enough.”
“For now.” But he’d nae give up. He stroked her hair with slow, gentle sweeps, thankful when she succumbed to an exhausted sleep. But with each passing hour, as she grew more listless, fear clawed through him that even if the winds calmed, ’twould be too late.
Seized by her unending struggle against nausea, Marie lost track of time. Days hazed together, each laden with the stench of salt, the stale odor of wood, and the scream of the wind as the storm howled its outrage.
Bits and pieces of the past several days fragmented through her mind; the captain’s concerned face, Colyne’s urging her to drink and, at times, to eat.
As she’d lain on the bed shaking and exhausted, she’d wanted to do neither, but for Colyne she’d tried.
And through it all, as much as possible, he’d remained steadfast by her side.
“Are you awake?”
At Colyne’s worried voice, she opened her eyes. A shaft of sunshine streaming through the window had her closing them. Then she realized the ship no longer was assaulted by the waves but rocked gently beneath her.
Slowly, this time prepared for the bright light, she gazed up at him. Though tired, the smile on his face warmed her soul.
He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “You have been asleep for a long time.”
Marie frowned as she noted the sun’s angle. ’Twas beginning to set. “How many days have passed since we left port?”
“Eight; we were thrown far off course.”
Streaks of pink-orange rays cut through the blue sky, announcing the oncoming night. “They are all a blur.”
“You have been very ill.”
His fear for her roughened his voice, strains of exhaustion creased his face, and shadows haunted his eyes. A testimony to his own sacrifice. “You need sleep,” she said, moved that he’d jeopardized his own health by remaining awake to tend to her.
“I needed you more.”
Marie’s hand trembled as she reached out for him.
Colyne entwined his fingers with hers and drew her to him, his kiss as soft as dew upon heather in the first morning light.
Overwhelmed by this amazing man, she poured out her love for him in their kiss. How would she ever be able to face life without him, to wake up each day and not find him at her side?
Colyne’s words haunted her. You can settle and be unhappy or live the life you choose. Could she ask her father to end her betrothal?