Chapter Twenty-Five
Lisle’s version of hell lasted four days, although she lost track of time after the second day, and definitely after the second night.
The only constant was Langston. He was always there, wiping at her face, assisting her to and from the privy closet, helping her take the sweat-soaked nightgowns off, and putting clean ones on, although he did that with a black look to his eyes and a set line to his jaw.
His were the hands sponging off her body and forcing broth down her throat, when he knew it wouldn’t stay.
On the fifth day, she opened her eyes to a room filled with waning sunlight, a snoring Monteith, who was sleeping on his belly and taking up way too much of the bed, and not a ripple of movement happening anywhere to tilt her belly and make it decide to destroy her again.
Lisle slid to the side of the bed, walked over to a window, and pressed her face against the glass, fully expecting to see the city of Paris, or a port of some kind, and totally mystified that there was nothing but water and two ships to look at.
She crossed the cabin to the other side and did the exact same thing, although she had to push the draperies aside in order to see.
Water. There was nothing but smooth-looking water, and the other three ships.
There wasn’t any sign of land anywhere. She went back to the bed, got back up on the mattress, and started shoving at the sleeping male that was behind all her agony.
“Langston?”
His snore interrupted midbreath, and then she got an eye opened to regard her. “Aye?” he asked.
“We’re na’ moving.”
His lips tipped. “You woke me to tell me that?”
“And ’tis eve.”
That got her a groan of a reply. There didn’t seem to be any words to it.
“And nae man should be sleeping away the day.”
“A man exhausted by taking care of his wife would be. Why, such a man has to get his sleep when he can.”
“Good,” she replied.
“Good?” he asked, lifting his head to look at her.
“Aye. ’Tis your own fault, remember?”
That had him turning on his side toward her, showing that he wasn’t wearing much, and the covers weren’t keeping that tale to themselves as they followed him to the extent they could.
Lisle was holding down a portion of them, and that was making the material twist about him. She forced herself not to look.
“Seems to me we were at a decided dispute over that particular phrasing when last we were discussing it, but I could be wrong.”
“You still wish to argue with me?” she asked.
“Argue? Nae. Negotiate? Definitely.”
“What are you negotiating with?”
“The ship.”
Lisle stared. “You’d give me your ship?”
“I doona’ need to gift you with it, Lisle. ’Tis already yours. I vowed as much in my wedding words. At least, I recall saying as much. Since I was na’ paying attention to much at the time, I could have vowed to anything. Enlighten me.”
“You twist words.”
That got her a smile. “True. That’s one of the things I do. I happen to be very good at it.”
“What are the others?”
“Other what?”
“Things that you do?”
“Oh.”
He sat, the covers slid to his belly, and Lisle had to force herself not to look. She could tell it wasn’t working as her face heated up, and telling herself she was being ridiculous didn’t help.
“I twist all kinds of other things as well.”
“You wish me to note the way you’ve twisted the covers now?” she asked. Her face was flaming.
“Are you?”
At that question he rolled completely onto his back, making the traitorous coverlet cling to every hidden portion of that frame, and then he was raising a thigh to keep her guessing at the rest.
“I’m actually starved,” she replied.
“Is it near eight?” he asked.
“How am I to tell?”
“They ring bells. On the hour. What was the last one you heard?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Twelve,” she replied.
He blew the sigh, lifting hair that only thought to curtain any part of his forehead. “I believe it’s nearer eight. That’s good.”
“Why?”
“Because I ordered certain things to happen at eight.”
“What certain things?”
“What are you willing to give to find out?” he asked and folded his arms.
Lisle regarded him. Then, she smiled. “Na’ much,” she admitted finally.
“Why na’?”
“Because whatever you have ordered will happen at eight, whether I ken what it is or na’. My guess is, it’s fairly near eight. I will na’ have much time with which to puzzle it out. Why would I give anything for that?”
“What would it take to get that nightgown from you?”
Lisle’s eyes went wide. “You’re na’ serious.”
“Of course I’m serious. Does it look like I’m na’ serious?”
Lisle put a hand to the little ribbon tie at her throat. “But…why?”
“Because I’m on my honeymoon, and doing my damnedest to pretend it’s been everything I dreamed it would be.”
“You did that?”
“Are you na’ grateful?”
“Where are we, Langston?”
“In my bed, that’s in my cabin, aboard the Adventurer, although to be truthful, you’re on the bed, na’ in it.”
“I mean, where are we?”
“Oh. On the ocean. The North Sea.”
“I mean, where are we?”
“You want exact locations? Na’ possible, love. I did a bit of navigating while I was out and about as a lad. There’s nae such thing as exact out here.”
“Langston.”
“What? You wish to hear of my navigating? Very well. I did a bit with a sextant, learned to follow the stars, look for the winds, follow charts, that sort of thing.”
“That’s na’ what I meant.”
“Well, I had to do something when I was sailing. ’Tis a long voyage to Persia. Bores an enterprising lad who has to learn everything he can in the smallest amount of time possible.”
“Why?”
“Why was I a lad? Why did I have to learn everything quickly? Why was I bored? Which one?”
“I have to admit it, Langston. You are very good at this word twisting you do.”
That got her a wide grin. Then he sobered. “You’re a quick student. I like that. What did you wish to know, again?”
“Why are we na’ moving?”
“Are you willing to part with that nightgown for the information?”
“I will part with the ribbon tie,” she replied.
He looked away, as if considering that. Lisle watched him do it. Then he looked back at her and held out his hand.
“You’re jesting,” she said.
His eyebrows rose, but the hand stayed where it was, although he waved with his fingers.
Lisle pulled the bow apart and tugged on one end until the entire blue ribbon came out. Since it wasn’t holding her nightgown close to her throat any more, the neckline gapped to her shoulders as it opened.
The look on his face was unreadable. Lisle wound the ribbon about her fingers into a little swirl of it, and placed it on his palm, which closed immediately.
Then he was pulling his crazed mane of hair into a queue and tying it with her ribbon.
Everything was moving and rippling on him while he did so.
Lisle ordered her eyes not to watch. They weren’t obeying.
When he was finished, he folded his arms again, and answered her.
“We’re na’ moving because I ordered it so. ”
“Now wait a moment. That’s na’ an answer.”
“’Tis exactly what you asked and paid to know.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Negotiations are na’ fair, Lisle. They never were. They’re meant to find a compromise. Do you ken what that is?”
She shook her head.
“’Tis a deal that both sides can agree to abide by. Nae one wins, nae one loses. Both sides have less than they wanted, but more than they started with.”
“Teach me how.” She sat, cross-legged, pulled her nightgown over her toes, and watched the corresponding shift as it dropped off her shoulders and met the resistance of her increasing bosom. She watched him look there.
“Oh. You have the skills already, love.”
“I do?”
He licked his lips to wet them, slid his glance to the shadow she was making between her breasts, and then back to her face. “Aye,” he answered finally.
“Good.”
“A negotiation can only take place if both sides want something the other side has. Take us, for instance.”
“What about us?”
“You want information. I want you. More specifically, I want you naked. Warm. Willing. In my bed. Passionate. Christ. I have to stop while I’m ahead.”
He had both legs bowed at the knees now and was running his hands over the covered tops of his thighs. Lisle watched him.
“Why?”
“Why must I stop? Why do I want you? Naked? Willing? Why should we negotiate? What?”
“Why are we na’ moving?”
His lips twisted, but he didn’t smile. He regarded her solemnly until his eyes lightened again. “You’re a very stubborn woman, Lisle Monteith.”
“So I’ve been told. Why, please? I paid, and I want to know.”
“You paid for information. You got it.”
“I could have figured that out for myself!”
“What more do you wish to know, then?”
“Why did you order the ships to stop moving?”
“Oh. What are you willing to pay for that information?”
Lisle moved her elbows, making her breasts brush against each other and create an indentation in the front of her nightgown.
She watched him look there. She slid her toes from beneath the fabric to impart more softness to it, more cling.
She watched the reaction as he trembled, although he had it under control almost immediately.
He didn’t have the same control over his breathing, for his lips opened slightly to allow the increase in it.
“Well?” she asked.
“Well…what?”
“Why did you order the ships to stop moving?”
“Oh. My wife is a terrible sailor.”
“You stopped six ships for that?”
Langston lifted a finger and wagged it back and forth. Lisle narrowed her eyes.
“You want to know what more I’m willing to part with for that information?”
He nodded.
“That depends. What am I wearing?”
He thought about that. “That nightgown. A chemise thing. Drawers. Stocking…long stockings. Midthigh.”
“You put all that on me?”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
“Because someone had to.”
“What? Why?”
“Your maids were na’ up to that sort of movement at present.”
“They suffer the mal de mer, too?”
He nodded.
“There’s more, is there na’?”
“You are a very quick learner, wife.”
“What is it, now?”